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freebooter4ever · 4 years ago

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Ice Cream And An Apology

Eugene drags his bff Snafu on a vacation to Los Angeles six years after Snafu left him on that train. They end up on Santa Monica beach where they finally admit they might be in love, and it might've been brewing for a long while, and wow are they clueless sometimes. Ace Eugene and Snaf, written for @skelesocks who makes the best Ace Eugene content around, thank you! And who was sad that I made Eugene cry, so here is me making him feel better through Snafu. (their vacation date includes a tiki hut, ice cream, swing dancing, secret cliffside hotels)(I took all the parts I do like about living in LA and put them here)(the ballroom existed but it's torn down now, the hotel is a real place I stumbled on while hiking way too far down the beach but it's actually a 1930's pool building called Palos Verdes Athletic Club)(with bonus historical photos cause I'm a fucking nerd)

Two years into grad school Eugene decides he needs a proper vacation. The only reason Snafu knows this is because Eugene also decides Snafu is the person he's gonna vacation with. And apparently Snafu has no say in this decision.

A very curt letter arrives one spring afternoon with a time, a date, and the address of the New Orleans railroad station, as if Snafu needed to be told where that is. Granted, Snafu's track record in being responsive and easy to reach is perhaps not the best, but Gene's known that for years. Snafu doesn't know what's changed with this particular meet up.

He's also a little resentful of the fact that Eugene thinks he can snap his fingers and Snafu will drop everything on a dime and come running. Mostly Snafu resents this on account of how true it is. Six years after the war and Snafu still can't let go.

So Snafu shows up at the train station, right on time, with his duffel packed tight, and his hat a little jaunty.

Eugene steps off the train with his ticket book in hand. He looks right and left, like he can't see Snafu standing a mere three feet in front of him. It must be the hat.

"You lost, Sledgehammer?" Snafu asks.

Eugene's eyes finally find his. Snafu's heart drops out of his chest, and he suddenly remembers why he made his original vow years ago to walk away and never see anybody again.

"Shelton?" Eugene asks, like he can't quite believe his eyes, and the formality stings.

"Miss me?" Snafu smirks.

Eugene doesn't answer. He simply walks up to Snafu, shoulder's Snafu's bag, and climbs back onto the train.

Snafu follows - like fucking always.

Eugene shoves Snafu's duffel into the luggage racks already almost stacked full, and guides Snafu to a private compartment.

Snafu glances admiringly at the plush seats and curtained windows, and whistles, "Adjunct professors must make quite a bit of money these days."

"I'm paying both your way and my way on this trip, so...yes," Eugene says, and Snafu knows it's non negotiable. No matter how many times Snafu offers, Eugene never accepts repayment.

"The truth is…" Eugene says that night after they've converted their plush seats into a bed, "...not making much money doesn't matter so much when you don't use it. I don't go out, I don't do anything, my parents pay my rent. What else am I going to spend it on?"

Snafu shrugs. A lot of things pop into his mind, but it's true Eugene never goes out so Snafu doesn't want to discourage this change. Eugene is the most boring college student ever. Snafu knows because he makes the drive from New Orleans to Auburn every weekend. And every weekend is the same, they spend most of the time lying around Sledge's dorm - Eugene studying and Snafu reading his latest murder mystery novel.

He supposes the sacrifice of Eugene's social life might have been worth it, though, if it meant being able to pay for the sleeper car. Because that night on the train when Eugene wakes Snafu with a yell, there are no prying eyes to judge them. Snafu wraps his arms around Eugene's shoulders in the privacy of their bunk and holds him till he calms down.

Sometimes Snafu wonders who does this for Eugene during the week, on the nights Snafu's not there.

"I just don't sleep those nights," Eugene whispers in the dark, his voice barely audible over the clacking of the train tracks.

Snafu squeezes him tighter. Eugene's back is pressed against Snafu's chest, and Snafu's nose is in Eugene's hair. And sometimes Snafu worries he might be crazy, but he also swears that the smell of Eugene's neck is the only thing capable of stopping Snafu's own nerves from jumping out of his skin. He'll never admit to Eugene how selfish he is. That Snafu doesn't keep dropping everything to run to his side out of some altruistic need to please. No.

Snafu's fucking addicted to the boy in his arms and he can't let go. No matter how much it hurts.

Plus they aren't boys anymore. Eugene is twenty eight, and Snafu is thirty, and he keeps waiting and waiting for Eugene to grow up and leave him behind but it hasn't happened yet.

It takes four days for the train to reach Los Angeles. It's hot - so fucking hot, Snafu wonders why Eugene picked summer of all times to vacation here, but the dry wind and brilliant blue sky is still a relief compared to the sticky humidity of home. He can kinda see why people come out here, even if the baking sun also makes him feel a little like a raisin.

Eugene rents a car. An unnecessary expense in Snafu's mind. The car even has a swamp cooler, which at first Snafu decries as the most absurd waste of cash. But then he presses his face to the passenger window to watch the rocket-like thing work. And sure, he can't feel the wind on his face anymore, but damn if the air in the car doesn't become more bearable faster.

Eugene watches Snafu and just smiles.

The outside heat cools off the closer they get to the coast. Snafu has no idea where Eugene is taking them. Perhaps that's why Eugene invites him everywhere, because he never asks questions. Honestly Eugene could take him anywhere in the world and it'd still be something, simply because it's with Eugene. Except caves. Snafu doesn't mess with caves.

They park in a giant lot, and when Snafu opens the car door he hears the familiar sound of gulls and the ocean. All around his head, though, are two story buildings - not a horizon line in sight. They must still be in the city. But then they turn a corner, walk two blocks down the street, and there it is: the Santa Monica pier.

The hippodrome catches the eye first. Then Snafu sees the long line stretching down a checkerboard walkway. The crowd of people ends at the mirrored doors and box office of the Aragon Ballroom. Something must be happening for it to be so busy in the middle of a random saturday. The crowd is young too, mostly teenagers. Snafu feels old, looking at them.

Snafu stares at the ballroom for a minute and then leers at Eugene. "You taking me dancing?" He asks.

"No," Eugene says, "I don't dance." He turns away from the gigantic world famous dancehall hanging over the ocean on spindly legs, and starts walking down the boardwalk.

Snafu hurries to catch up.

They clamber down tall wooden steps to get to the beach. Snafu touches one and ends up with a splinter in his hand, naturally. He's too busy trying to pick the damn thing out of his finger to notice when Eugene stops. Snafu collides with his back.

Eugene balances precariously at the edge of the bottom step, leaving only a little room for Snafu to squish in behind him. Snafu leans his chin on Eugene's shoulder and tries to figure out what is on the ground that Eugene's so intently marveling at.

"Gene?" Snafu slips his arm underneath Eugene's elbow and wiggles his hand in front of Eugene's face, "Your pa's the doctor."

"What?" Eugene asks in confusion as if brought out of a trance.

"Splinter," Snafu explains.

Eugene very carefully pries the long skinny splinter out of Snafu's finger. And then he goes back to staring down at his feet.

"What are we waiting for?" Snafu asks. He places his hands on either side of Eugene's hips and tries to remain patient.

"An engraved invitation," Eugene intones. He bends over to untie his Chuck Taylors and pull them off.

"That's just asking for splinters," Snafu points out when Eugene's socks come off next.

Eugene leaves his socks neatly tucked into his shoes on the wooden plank and steps into the sand.

Snafu, being more familiar with thievery, hastily threads the shoelaces through his own belt loop and then ties Eugene's two shoes together to hang off his hip. His own shoes stay on as he traipses after Eugene. Snafu's had enough sand between his toes to last him a lifetime.

It doesn't take long to catch up to Eugene. When Snafu reaches him, Eugene is breathing shallowly and clenching his fists, staring at the rolling ocean waves and the handful of beachgoers. To the casual observer, Eugene would appear to be enjoying the view, but Snafu sees the tension. Snafu sidles up to Eugene and leans against his shoulder.

"I thought it would feel different," Eugene says. His voice is calm, he looks calm, but he's anything but. Snafu knows the feeling all too well.

"C'mon," Snafu slips his hand into Eugene's and tugs him away from the shore, "Let's get off the sand."

They make it back to the boardwalk and Snafu gives Eugene back his shoes.

Eugene smiles at him gratefully, and that grin with those eyes is precisely the reason Snafu's always here. And in this case 'here' means 'by Eugene's side come hell or high water.'

Eugene smiles, and Snafu shrugs it off, and lets Eugene use his shoulder to steady himself while he puts his shoes back on one-handed. Those smiles make Snafu want to kiss them off Eugene's face to get rid of them. They're altogether too kind, altogether too caring, and it just worsens the already deep hole Snafu's dug himself.

They walk down the boardwalk for a short distance, eyeing the push carts, and the souvenir stalls, and the hot dog stands that look suspiciously crusty.

"Those aren't for you," Snafu says, pushing Eugene along by the small of his back when the boy lingers a little too long in front of a cheesy sign with a cartoon corn dog dancing on a stick. The dog has eyes, and looks way too happy about being eaten.

"What, why not?" Eugene asks.

"They're un-hi-Gene-ic," Snafu drawls.

"Oh god," Eugene casts his eyes to the sky.

"It's in the name, no Gene's allowed," Snafu adds.

"I got the joke, Snafu," Eugene says.

The next food stand they come to is a tiki hut. There's no other way to describe it. It's the tackiest thing Snafu's ever seen. Snafu hears about the 'tiki' craze sweeping the nation after all the boys came home from the south pacific. He sees advertisements using the motifs in the magazines at the mechanic shop he works for.

The tiki design is always heavily stylized, and completely fake, and so fucking ugly it makes Snafu's eyes hurt.

He turns to Eugene, and their eyes meet. There's a rush of shared knowing between them, it sends Snafu tingling down to his toes, and a genuine smile breaks out onto his face, and before he knows it they're both laughing. They lean against each other, giggling helplessly at this silly simulacrum of the islands they were trapped on for so long.

"Four nights on a train for this, Gene?" Snafu teases.

Eugene slings an arm around Snafu's waist to steady him and, still laughing, they wobble over to peer at the menu tacked against the entrance to the hut.

"Coconut ice cream," Snafu reads with exaggerated admiration.

Eugene shudders violently, and Snafu can feel it through his body. "I can't stand the smell of coconut," Eugene whines, "All those coconuts on Pavuvu, buried in the sand, rotting with that inescapable stench."

Snafu shakes his head, "You're missing out."

"Nope," Eugene insists and breaks away from Snafu, "We're not eating here. I would rather eat the No-Gene's-Allowed dancing corn dog."

"I bet by the end of this trip I'll get you eating coconut ice cream," Snafu calls.

"Not happening," Eugene calls back, making his point by already walking away.

Snafu eyes the coconut tiki shack, eyes Gene, and starts plotting.

Blissfully ignorant, and completely confident in his ability to talk Snafu into or out of anything, Eugene continues down the boardwalk.

Meanwhile, Snafu's attention is captured next by the neat row of bicycles at the very end of the small line of makeshift booths. The bicycles are clean, and shiny, with pastel baskets and sparkling handlebar bells, and colorful seats with clean, bright stitching. The kind of bicycles Snafu dreamed of when he was a kid. He slows to a crawl as they pass by and eventually stops, unable to resist going over and putting his hands on one.

Snafu rings the bell and chuckles.

He glances up and Eugene is smiling at him again in that overly fond way that says Snafu could probably get away with practically anything right now.

So, they end up renting two bikes. Snafu's is a mint blue with a grey basket. He pulls his shoes off and drops them into said basket to ride barefoot. The spikey plastic pedals feel hot and firm underneath Snafu's feet. Eugene's bike is a reddish salmon color with a burnt orange basket that when combined with the sun glinting off Eugene's red hair, makes him strike a truly imposing figure.

Snafu laughs about this for at least five minutes straight before they get on their way. He wishes he brought a camera. There's one slung around Eugene's neck, but Eugene blushes and refuses Snafu's request to use it.

"If I can't take embarrassing photos of you with it, what's the point of even having it?" Snafu demands.

Eugene still refuses.

Snafu sticks his tongue out at Eugene and takes the lead on the bicycles. It's incredibly easy to ride along the flat beach. The path isn't paved, and is a little rough, but half the time Snafu is standing on his pedals as he rides, so he hardly notices. Occasionally he looks back to make sure Gene is keeping up.

The only time he loses track of Eugene is when they're pedaling through a dilapidated old pier. Snafu banks a slight curve and notices Eugene isn't appearing around the shops and buildings behind him. He circles back around to find Eugene stopped and straddling his bicycle, looking towards the ocean.

Snafu pulls up alongside him and eyes him quizzically.

"It's two men…" Eugene nods at a couple making out on a beach blanket in the distance, "I saw them walking out there. The one with long hair isn't a girl, he's a guy."

Snafu looks at the couple passionately embracing, and then at Eugene's expression. "Shocking," Snafu says sarcastically, "Scandalous."

"You don't seem surprised," Eugene says.

"I live in New Orleans," Snafu replies, "Not all of us spent most our lives in hicktown Alabama."

"Mobile is not a hicktown," Eugene scowls.

"Stop staring at them, Gene," Snafu warns and nods at the couple, "They might give you a show." He rides off, this time determined to leave Eugene in the dust.

Snafu keeps going on his bicycle for a few hours. They're forced to make a brief detour around a marina, but they end up back on an oceanfront path, and continue on pedaling until suddenly the beach abruptly ends. The sand narrows off into rocks, and rising high above them are towering cliffs.

Eugene coasts to a stop next to Snafu and puts his foot down to rest. He's breathing hard. All that studying and not enough manual labor.

"Guess we're continuing on foot from here," Snafu suggests casually.

Eugene huffs in disbelief, "You're joking."

"Four nights on a train…" Snafu smirks, "I ain't stopping yet."

They bring the bikes back to the nearest beach facilities and lock them up in a rack, then set off across the rocks. At first it's fairly easy, there is a dirt path running directly beneath the cliff face but slightly above the worst of the jagged rocky beach. They've climbed over much worse during the war.

Eugene is an unenthusiastic hiking partner, however. They pass by a beautiful stucco building nestled into the cliffs with a high wall and flanked by old fashioned lamps. Eugene stares longingly at the NCAA sized swimming pool behind the wall.

"Later," Snafu promises him, and leads him on.

The rocks turn a little more treacherous past the wall, and eventually it gets to the point that even Snafu is carefully picking his way across rock by rock. He climbs hand and foot up to the base of the cliff and expertly assesses the narrow ledge leading across a plunging chut to the next rocky beach. The chute is roughly four feet long and ends in churning water. The waves are coming in, crashing against the rocks and zipping up the chute to lap at the ledge. Snafu puts one shoe on the ledge and wiggles it around to test his grip.

"Snaf," Eugene pleads from the rocks below, "I can't…"

Snafu stares down at him unblinkingly. And then turns and starts to walk carefully across the ledge. He makes it to the other side and leaps over the rocky outcrop.

"Merriell!" Eugene cries.

Snafu can no longer see him. After vaulting the end of the ledge he lands on another rocky beach, and in the distance he sees another point where the rocks give way to cliffs. Snafu clambers on tirelessly, but the path soon becomes all but impassable. He's reached the farthest point he can go. Eventually he gives up and turns around.

He climbs back onto the taller rock sticking out from the ledge and sits down on the top to watch the waves break against the rock's front edge. Below him and across the chasm, Eugene sits huddled on his own rock, intently watching the waves. Eugene ignores Snafu's return.

"Eugene?" Snafu calls softly.

Eugene's head jerks up and he looks at Snafu with a painful mixture of worry and anger. "What the hell, Snafu?" Eugene yells, "You jump over the other side and don't answer me for a half hour? I had no way of knowing if you slipped, or fell, or hit your head, or drowned…" Eugene's voice wavers.

"You could'a followed," Snafu argues.

"I cannot cross that ledge," Eugene snaps back, "Not all of us have your super human climbing abilities. You shouldn't go on alone...what if you ended up in the water?"

"Gene, I'm a good swimmer," Snafu says dismissively.

Eugene shakes his head at him in exasperation. "Fuck you, Shelton," he says, and he clearly means it. He turns back to the waves splashing at his feet and rubs his hand into his eye.

Which is when Snafu notices something odd.

He toes back across the ledge and hops down to the rock next to Eugene's to confirm his suspicions. Snafu tilts his head and scoots as close as Eugene will let him.

"Gene?" Snafu prompts gently, "Are you crying?"

Eugene screws his face up and presses his chin against his knees. He's clearly about to start crying in the way anyone starts to cry when they're feeling on the verge and someone asks them about it.

Snafu hastily stands and closes the last few inches between them. He crouches next to Eugene and puts his arm around Gene's shoulders.

"This was a mistake," Eugene breathes.

"I'm sorry," Snafu says. He leans his head in close to Eugene's and leans his weight against him in hopefully a comforting manner.

Eugene shakes his head and a brief sob chokes his next words, "I can't…." he pauses to catch his breath, "I can't do this anymore."

"Then we'll leave," Snafu suggests, "You've got a car. We'll drive out to the desert. You can draw some cacti."

"No, Snaf," Eugene says quietly, his voice goes almost calm, "I mean I can't do this anymore with you."

Snafu stands when he hears those words.

Eugene shivers and starts crying anew.

"You're gonna leave me stuck here without even a train ticket home?" Snafu's mind immediately jumps to how much bus fare will cost, and whether he's got enough cash on him or if he'll have to pick up some odd jobs before he catches the first train back.

"No!" Eugene exclaims, angry again, "I would never do that to you."

"Then what, Gene?" Snafu asks, his own voice rising.

"You can't keep leaving me like this," Eugene insists.

"I just jumped over a goddamn ledge…"

"You left!" Eugene tilts his face up to Snafu and hurtles the accusation at him, "You left without a goodbye and…"

"I came back!" Snafu interrupts.

"Not for my wedding," Eugene says sullenly.

"Nor for Burgie's," Snafu waves it away with a gesture.

"I'm not Burgie!" Eugene declares.

"I came back for your divorce!" Snafu counters.

Eugene drops his head onto his arms.

"For fuck's sake, Eugene haven't you cried over her enough?" Snafu sighs. He climbs back onto the ledge and scoots across over to the jutting rock to put some space between him and Eugene, "It's been four years. You barely knew each other."

"I'm not crying over Edna," Eugene protests sourly and sniffles snot back into his nose.

"Can't imagine why you two didn't work out," Snafu rolls his eyes and swings his legs over the edge of the rock to dangle above the crashing waves, "With names like Edna and Eugene."

A very slight smile tugs at the corner of Eugene's mouth. "E squared," he says.

"She's probably better off," Snafu offers, "No longer saddled with the terrible mouthful 'Edna Sledge'."

"You're one to talk, Merriell," Eugene points out.

"Merriell Sledge has a nice ring to it," Snafu goads him.

"I like Eugene Shelton better," Eugene jokes back.

"Thought you said you were done with me," Snafu says, unable to prevent his big mouth from opening.

Eugene looks up at him with the meanest glare he's ever seen.

It slowly, slowly starts to dawn on Snafu that he might be the reason Eugene Sledge is crying.

That comes as a shock. Snafu takes a moment to think back on his life and all the times he might've made someone cry. And not because he shoved some bully or asshole into the dirt. It's a very short list. One of his earliest memories is visiting his grandma as a child. She cried when he left, and hugged him for longer than he's ever been hugged in his life. His parents died, but they weren't the crying type anyway. His baby sister stopped crying after their parents' deaths. Even when Snafu enlisted, she didn't shed a tear.

And absolutely none of the men Snafu formed attachments to were the crying type either. Till Eugene, till now.

But Snafu can't imagine why Eugene is crying over him. He answered the extremely self-pitying letter Eugene penned in the weeks after Eugene's divorce, he's spent every weekend with Eugene since to keep him company, he tries to be there for whatever Eugene needs. Eugene's got no fucking reason to cry because of him.

Eugene's crying like Snafu broke his heart, except there's no possible way Eugene could care about him that deeply. This love Snafu's got going is a one way street, and he's careful to keep it that way.

Snafu digs into his pocket and pulls out a rather beat up carton of cigarettes. He calmly lights one and tosses the rest to Eugene. Eugene holds the carton like it's something precious.

"Sledgehammer," Snafu says, "Just tell me what you want."

Eugene takes a deep breath to steady himself. He grips the paper cigarette carton hard till it crinkles. "I think I want what those two guys on the beach have…" Eugene tells the waves. And then looks to Snafu for some sort of validation, "...but with you."

Snafu smokes his cigarette and tries to remember there's a ten foot gulf with choppy waves between them and launching himself across it is not physically possible.

"And this is why I can't keep doing this anymore, Snaf," Eugene says when Snafu doesn't answer his request. Eugene turns back to the rocks below his feet and says with great frustration, "Our friendship means everything to me, but it's killing me."

Those last words weigh heavy on Snafu's conscience. "Okay, Gene," he says, "We'll finish out this vacation, and then I promise you'll never have to see me again."

Eugene swallows hard. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in his arms once more, so he doesn't have to see Snafu right now.

Snafu makes his way over the ledge for the last time and carefully places a hand on Eugene's trembling shoulder. "C'mon," he says kindly, "Let's get back to the bikes."

Eugene twines his hand with Snafu's. Snafu bends down, braces Eugene's arm with his own, and helps him stand. Eugene sways into Snafu's chest and for a minute their faces are too close together for comfort. But neither of them are looking at each other. And Eugene isn't smiling, so it makes it easy for Snafu to deny the kiss and pull away.

Eugene's horribly quiet as they make their way back over the rocky beach. He pauses before they pass the wall with the swimming pool.

Snafu looks back questioningly.

"I'm hungry," Eugene announces, "You made me ride my bike for three hours, then scramble over rocks for two. This place looks nice, it's hygienic, there's no palm fronds or fake tiki statues. We're stopping here."

Snafu eyes the iron gate skeptically. The lock is hanging loose and the gate is ajar, but only because a few people from the private pool are swimming in the ocean nearby.

"You object?" Eugene asks stubbornly, ready and looking for a fight.

"It's too fancy," Snafu says and jerks his chin in the direction of the three story building stacked in layers on the cliff like a cake, "I see white lace curtains in those windows. Fucking clean lace curtains."

"The hot dogs were too poor, this place is too rich," Eugene says, "Make up your mind, Snafu."

Snafu sighs, but concedes Eugene may have a point. He gestures for Eugene to go through the gate first.

Sometimes Eugene's ability to take all of his generational wealth and privilege and put it to use comes in handy. After hours of physical exercise they look bedraggled. Both of them are dusty, the armpits of their shirts are damp, Eugene's collar is creased, Snafu never had a collar to begin with, they have sand pouring out of their shoes, and yet when Eugene walks through that gate he owns the place.

Snafu slinks in on his coat tails and settles in to watch the show from a distance. Some pool boy comes up to stop Gene from going any further, and the set of Eugene's shoulders takes on a stubborn slant. Eugene isn't pretentious. But he knows how to be. Snafu's never seen Eugene use his status, or his upbringing to deliberately belittle anyone beneath him. When he does draw out this intangible skill to demand the kind of respect money offers, it's always in defense of someone who doesn't have it.

And Snafu kinda likes being the beneficiary of that benevolent righteousness. It's entertaining to watch people's attitudes change toward Eugene in the blink of an eye when they realize he's someone of means.

All it takes is a few quick sentences, and the attendant who initially stopped Eugene is suddenly apologizing and taking Eugene's ID. Before the attendant reverently carries the ID back towards the main house, he glances nervously at Snafu.

Snafu tilts his head back against the pool wall and lazily smiles. Snafu knows where he belongs but he doesn't give a shit.

The attendant turns tail and runs.

Snafu watches him go with a bit of hypocritical glee till Eugene quietly returns to Snafu's side.

"We're staying here tonight, huh?" Snafu smirks.

"Yeah," Eugene nods confidently, his hands in his pockets, "It looks comfortable."

Snafu hums and grins at Eugene admiringly.

"You might have to put up with clean lace curtains for longer than expected," Eugene warns.

"Think I can handle that," Snafu replies.

"Swell," Eugene says, only half sarcastic and immediately satisfied with Snafu's agreement. Eugene's eyes start roaming around the pool deck till he spots what he's looking for, "Now that's settled, I see a burger bar with my name on it."

"I believe the name on that sign says 'Hanna's'," Snafu points out drolly.

"Grab that table overlooking the ocean," Eugene says, "I'll bring you a menu."

Snafu climbs a narrow stone staircase built into the cliff face and sits down at one of the three tables hidden in a nook behind a trellis of lavender. He adjusts the tables a little, shoves one closer to the wall at the edge of the cliff, and then sits down.

Eugene comes up a few minutes later and offers Snafu an embossed menu featuring a long list of items and no prices. "I see you removed the lace tablecloth," Eugene notes with a grin.

Snafu briefly glances at the discarded pile of table linens he made on the table next to theirs and scoffs, "Don't need that shit for hamburgers."

Eugene bites his lip and concentrates on reading his own menu.

They both order hamburgers, and Eugene deliberates between a milkshake or a soda before eventually settling on the house rootbeer. Snafu additionally orders three extra sides of french fries. The hamburgers are as large as Snafu's hands and the french fry portions are generous enough that Snafu still has a large stack at the end of the meal. He leans back in his chair, props his feet up on the ocean wall, and snacks on fries while surveying the waves.

Meanwhile Snafu can feel Eugene's eyes on him.

Snafu finishes his fries, and lights a cigarette.

Eugene is still watching him.

Snafu can't bring himself to meet Eugene's gaze. Eugene's eyes are everything good - kindness, vulnerability, trust, smarts...when Snafu looks into them he feels this rush of uncontainable emotion, that drug that makes his nerves calm. And the persistent need in the back of his head to be somewhere doing something quiets down till it goes silent entirely, because he's here, sharing this with Eugene, and somehow that's more than enough.

They're not even doing anything, they're relaxing on the side of a bluff looking out at the ocean and sharing a cigarette. It should be boring as hell, and yet when Snafu does finally get the guts to flick his eyes towards Gene, he's utterly satisfied.

He's going fucking insane, is what it is. All cause of Eugene's eyes. He tries to clumsily explain this to Gene. Snafu feels he owes him that much. It doesn't come out right. None of Snafu's words ever come out right, not like Gene's with his studied elocution and tendency to think long and hard before he speaks.

Except this time, as Snafu speaks, Eugene's face loses his sour expression entirely, and Snafu sees hope there - maybe a little bit of joy.

Eugene places the cigarette back in Snafu's hands and leans his elbows on the table intently. "Snaf," he says very seriously, "how do I explain to you that I feel the exact same way every time I look at you?"

"Not possible," Snafu counters stubbornly.

"Snaf!" Eugene laughs.

"I can't be for you what those guys on the beach are for each other," Snafu says.

"Why not?"

"Just can't."

"Just like I can't fall in love with my asshole gunner during the middle of a war?" Eugene's still grinning like he can't stop now that he's started.

"I'm not enough, Gene."

Eugene sighs. He studies Snafu's profile quietly for a minute, and then switches tactics. "Do you know why mine and Edna's divorce was okay by my parents?"

Snafu shakes his head. He hadn't even given it a thought. Just assumed Eugene's parents knew their son deserved the best, and anyone named Edna was clearly not that.

"We, uh," Eugene coughs, "We never consummated the marriage. I kept putting it off. Easy to do under strict christian values. Till Edna got fed up, realized I wasn't about to give her kids anytime soon or ever. And demanded we split."

"You're still a virgin?" Snafu stares at him in surprise.

"I am," Eugene blushes angrily, "And I'm kinda tired of people shaming me for that."

"No shame," Snafu says fairly, "I remember how you were during the China occupation years. Always thought that was just cause your fear of VD, though."

"Yeah, that was my excuse at the time," Eugene says, "Snaf, you know I love you. Passionately. I want to be able to say that, whenever I feel it, instead of choking it down and trying to hide it. I'd like to kiss you. I very much enjoy holding you. I think we could live together very happily. That's what I want from you, nothing more." Eugene reaches over the table and takes Snafu's hand resting beside the crystal water goblets. "I'll beg you, if that's what it takes to get it through your thick skull."

Snafu smiles a little despite himself.

"Also, we're both gonna have to work on quitting smoking," Eugene concludes his list, "cause I'm going to need you to grow old with me."

Snafu plucks at the bar menu on the table beside his elbow. He casually picks it up and scans the dessert section. "You know...," he says casually, "...they've got coconut ice cream." He flips the menu around so Eugene can read the list.

Eugene reaches with his free hand and grabs the menu to examine it. "If I buy you coconut ice cream will you finally admit you love me back?"

Snafu looks at him and Eugene is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt.

Snafu uses their twined hands to pull Eugene closer over the table and press his lips to Eugene's in answer. He looks deep into Eugene's eyes, his gaze as unwavering and cliche as his devotion, and says, "I love you, Gene. Heart and soul."

Eugene threads his free hand into the back of Snafu's curls and touches their foreheads together. There's a knowing between them that's existed in some form since that first day on Pavuvu. Eugene doesn't need to say a word, Snafu can read it all in his eyes. He leans in and kisses Eugene one final time before pulling away and standing up.

"Now that that's settled," Snafu says with a devil grin, "Let's go see about that coconut ice cream."

Eugene groans, but when Snafu wraps his hand tighter around Gene's to help him stand and leads him back down the cliffside stairs to the pool deck, Eugene willingly follows.

Snafu stands on his tiptoes at the poolside bar to order a double scoop ice cream cone with chocolate drizzle. Eugene stands to the side and fiddles with the condiments while he waits. Snafu tilts his head to bat his eyes saccharinely at Eugene while the bartender is in the back with the scoops. And Eugene's reflexive smile in return is bashful and more than a little endearing.

They take Snafu's prodigious two scoop chocolate drizzle coconut ice cream cone outside the gate and onto the ocean rocks. The evening air is finally cooling, but the setting sun melts the ice cream fast. Snafu keeps having to lick at his hands where the milky cream runs down his fingers. Snafu sucks at the edge where cone meets ice cream, and notices Eugene watching him.

He waggles the cone in front of Eugene's face invitingly.

Eugene hastily grabs Snafu's hand so his wiggling doesn't make the double scoop fall off into Eugene's lap. "Fine," Eugene sighs, as if tasting ice cream is a true hardship. He holds Snafu's hand still and takes a tentative lick.

Snafu grins when he sees Gene's eyes light up. "It's only called 'coconut ice cream'," Snafu announces, "Never said it tasted like coconut."

"How…?" Eugene asks.

"They just make it out of coconut milk, it's flavored with vanilla," Snafu says, proud to have won an argument.

Eugene eases the cone out of Snafu's hand in order to better take another bite of ice cream.

Eugene's hair is blowing wildly in the ocean breeze. Snafu watches strands of hair fall across Eugene's face and Eugene desperately tries to shake it out of his mouth so he can eat. Snafu chuckles and brushes Eugene's hair off his forehead and holds it there to give him easier access.

Eugene crinkles his eyes at Snafu in amusement and mumbles his thanks in between bites of ice cream.

"I think you've had enough," Snafu comments and draws the cone away from Eugene's grasp after two thirds of the ice cream has magically disappeared. But instead of eating more himself, Snafu kisses Gene and sucks on his bottom lip to get the last drops of ice cream. Eugene tastes sweet, and his lips are refreshingly cold. And when Snafu opens his eyes, he can see that Gene is silently laughing at him - or with him, because Snafu is laughing too.

Snafu grins, kisses the tip of Eugene's long nose because there's some ice cream there, and then turns back to his cone. He barely gets his mouth around it before Eugene is tugging the cone out of his hand a second time.

"Hey, you could'a got your own!" Snafu exclaims, trying to keep the ice cream away.

Gene wins. Because of course he does. "I'll buy you a second one," Eugene promises.

Snafu threads his fingers through Eugene's bangs again to hold them back, and chooses to watch Eugene instead of the sunset. Gene's tinted round sunglasses are brilliantly rosy, casting colored shadows on his cheeks and making them even rosier.

"Gene," Snafu says, just to be able to savor his name.

"Mm?" Eugene cuts his eyes to the side and raises an eyebrow at Snafu even as he licks melted ice cream off his hand.

Snafu tilts his chin up and scoots closer till their sides are pressed tight together. "I think this is gonna be the best vacation I ever have," he confesses.

Eugene turns back to his ice cream and comments, "Thought this was the only vacation you've ever had."

"Yeah, but I mean in the future too," Snafu swipes at his collar and unbuttons it a little to give himself more breathing room.

"Naw," Eugene scoffs, "Don't worry, we'll top it." He licks his lips and hands the almost empty ice cream cone back to Snafu, "That's pretty darn good."

Snafu breaks into a wide grin. "I told you. I told you so, Sledgehammer!" he says proudly, "Next time I suggest new food, you better listen!"

Eugene laughs and agrees, "I will." He maneuvers around on the rock till he can lay his head in Snafu's lap. "If you drip any ice cream on me, try to aim for my mouth," he advises.

"Sure thing, Sledgehammer," Snafu says and bites into the last of the cone with a crunch. It's a bit messy and he does end up dripping some on Eugene, but it lands on Eugene's forehead . It's okay though because Snafu bends over to kiss him clean, and Eugene laughs and complains that it tickles.

When the ice cream disappears, and the sun is set, and the last bit of twilight is slowly fading, Eugene and Snafu make their way back across the rocky beach to their bikes. Nothing's changed, yet everything feels different. This time when Eugene miraculously spots a tiny crab species scuttering over a rock, and stops to admire it, Snafu can openly admire Eugene and Eugene's goofy fascination. And when they're chatting as they walk, and Eugene retorts with something particularly sarcastic, instead of just laughing it off, Snafu gets to tug Eugene back by his hand, spin him around, and lay a kiss on him. Just because he wants to.

Of course, when they do finally reach the bikes and rejoin civilization, Snafu has to reign in his urges somewhat, but from time to time he still manages to smile at Eugene in that way that makes Eugene blush, and usually trip over his own feet if he's not being careful.

They drop the bikes off at the booth, and Eugene pays a rather hefty late fee. They're walking back to their car when Snafu grabs onto Eugene's elbow and stops them both.

He draws Eugene in close and whispers, "Look at the pier, all lit up at night. Like fireflies."

The hippodrome is dotted with popcorn lights, it's turrets and arches glamorous behind shadow in a way they aren't during the day.

Eugene stands straight, takes a deep breath, locks Snafu's arm under his elbow, and takes off down the street towards the pier.

"Gene, where are we going?" Snafu asks worriedly, slightly alarmed and keeping a sharp eye out for anyone looking at them askance because of being arm-in-arm.

"I want to dance," Eugene decides. He marches them straight up to box office window of the ballroom and slaps a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Can he and I enter the ballroom as a couple?" Eugene asks challengingly.

Snafu nearly chokes. It's late enough there's not many people around outside. Most everyone is in the ballroom where the band is in full swing. Whenever one of the front doors opens and people exit, a cacophony of talking and loud music escapes with them.

The bored and exhausted woman behind the desk takes in Eugene, lingering on Eugene's Marine Corps ring, and then Snafu, and shrugs, "Sure, whatever."

Eugene nods enthusiastically in relief, "Thank you," and slides the money over. Being pressed up against Eugene's side, Snafu can feel him sweating.

The girl behind the counter gives them two tickets and their change. Eugene gratefully pushes five dollars of it back to her, nods once more, and drags a still-in-shock Snafu over to the doors.

Eugene falters once inside the doorway, suddenly shy. He holds his head up high, but there's tension in his neck when Eugene swallows nervously.

It's up to Snafu to pry his hand out from underneath Eugene's sweaty armpit, and walk them both onto the dance floor.

The first few dances are easy as pie. The songs are familiar, big band numbers both of them recognize from their days during and immediately after the war. Eugene is a horrible dancer, but Snafu more than makes up for it. And with how lively everything is, no one notices two boys in a crowded corner doing the jitterbug with themselves.

Plus Snafu secretly enjoys having to grab Eugene's hips and turn him in the proper direction or place. Even if it also means he nearly trips over Eugene's feet every five minutes. There's a freedom in being able to be naturally affectionate with each other in public.

The only person that bothers them is a short but very handsome man who comes up to compliment Snafu on his dancing.

"How'd you get stuck with this dancing ginger elephant," the guy says to Snafu and sticks his thumb at Eugene, "Why, you're so light on your feet, I bet you could get any girl on the wall in here."

"I'm teaching him how to dance," Snafu says curtly. He shifts his grip on Eugene's hand and swings Gene close into his side protectively.

Meanwhile Eugene is glaring at the newcomer.

"Hey, you're teaching skills must be pretty swell," the guy says admirably, "Can I get a lesson?"

Snafu skids their dance to a stop. There's no way this asshole is going to go away without some kind of placation. Snafu turns around and grins, fully prepared to give this guy a verbal vertical buttstroke to the chin. But Eugene intervenes first.

"You're out of luck, mister," Eugene says. He pushes his way in between the guy and Snafu, "I'm afraid he's all booked up tonight."

"Oh," the guy says affably, completely clueless to Eugene's souring mood, "Well, how about tomorrow?"

"He's busy tomorrow too," Eugene replies.

"But not tomorrow night," Snafu interjects, slipping around Eugene, "Give me your name and number and I'll call you with my lesson schedule."

Once Snafu jots down the guy's information, the man finally goes away satisfied.

"You're not really going to call him?" Eugene asks.

Snafu tries to coax him back into a dance, but Eugene's limbs turn very floppy when he's unenthused. "Of course not," Snafu answers, "But he's gonna leave us alone now. And he won't go complain to someone about the two guys dancing together on the floor."

"True," Eugene sighs.

Snafu spins them around and launches into one of the dance moves Eugene picked up the fastest in order to give Gene something to feel confident about. They link hands and hook opposing arms behind their heads. In one swoop their grips slide down each other's arms till they catch their hands again.

Eugene grins.

Snafu uses their momentum to snap them close together again and they playfully push each other to rotate clockwise.

"Feeling better?" Snafu asks.

"He was smarmy," Eugene states. He switches direction on the beat and touches Snafu's shoulder to follow.

"He was," Snafu agrees, amused.

"He's not your type," Eugene says, turning a second time.

"Definitely not," Snafu agrees again.

"What is your type?" Eugene asks. He sounds slightly worried, as if the thought just occurred to him that Snafu might have a 'type'. And he might not be it.

"I like guys who are smarter than me," Snafu reassures him smarmily.

"Well shit, that rules out at least ninety percent of the population," Eugene declares.

"Yeah," Snafu grins, "Good thing I found you."

"Good thing," Eugene agrees.

Snafu swings out and twists back in till he's tucked neatly under Eugene's arm, and pauses to wink at his dance partner. "Plus, you're no elephant," he reassures him.

Eugene snorts, "Actually he might have been right on that front…"

"No way!" Snafu insists, stepping out and holding their hands at length, "You'll be a great dancer. I think you might be ready for a few aerials."

Eugene furrows his brow and looks concerned, "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope. Don't worry about it, I'm light, you'll toss me around like I'm nothing," he says.

"Snaf," Eugene exclaims, "I'll end up dropping you is what I'll do."

"You won't," Snafu insists. He shim shams into Eugene's space and tilts his head up till they're a breath away from kissing, and smiles disarmingly, "I trust you."

Which, of course, Eugene can never resist so here they are on the dance floor, Snafu explaining the simple physics of launching one body off another to an expert in biology. Hooking their arms together and him rolling over Eugene's back is the easiest so they start there.

For all his nerves, Eugene proves to be a very solid dance partner. He never shies away from a hold, and his feet might be slightly off but they never stumble. The first time Eugene effortlessly swings Snafu over his leg and into a side dip, Snafu's heart is fluttering in his chest and he's gazing up at Eugene in exuberant delight. Eugene sets Snafu down, swings him out, and when they come back together they almost collapse against one another in relieved laughter over their success. Snafu's arms lope around Eugene's neck and they giggle terribly.

Snafu didn't expect this.

He probably should have, Eugene never does anything by half and he always is a quick learner. Eugene picks up the steps so fast, in fact, that by the end of the second hour Snafu has to start shooing wallflower girls away who keep wanting to take Snafu's place.

Eugene, being Eugene, completely fails to notice the girls' interest, which is almost as entertaining as him refusing to take his attention off Snafu all night. A few times Snafu offers to give Eugene a break, and maybe find his own girl to take for a spin in the middle of the dance floor. But Eugene insists he needs no breaks.

When the music finally switches to something slow, Snafu slides to a stop and leans heavily against Eugene's shoulder panting.

"Let's get some water," Eugene suggests, and pats Snafu on the back. He starts off in the direction of the bar but Snafu hangs behind.

"What," Snafu taunts when Eugene glances back at him, "You won't slow dance with me?"

Eugene's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes go wide.

Snafu doesn't give him a chance to overthink things. He takes Eugene's hands, positions them properly for a waltz, and leads him into the dance. At first Eugene is stiff, and he refuses to make eye contact with Snafu, too busy scanning the room.

But after a few steps, after the world doesn't end, Eugene folds in closer to Snafu's body. Their cheeks brush. And Eugene's ear is suddenly right there, in front of Snafu's mouth. So Snafu tightens his embrace, and sings along to the song's romantic lyrics in a whisper meant for Eugene alone.

Snafu can understand Eugene's initial hesitation. After all the years Snafu spent sharing dances with various partners he didn't give a shit about, this feels especially vulnerable, despite the fact that they are one couple among thousands on the floor. There's a part of him that didn't think he'd ever have this moment. That for all the people jumping at the chance to dance with him, Snafu'd never feel the same way about someone else.

Eugene is so fucking gentle, it's easy to mistake him as soft. His hand is light against the small of Snafu's back. It's a little hard to believe not two minutes ago that same hand was gripping Snafu's thigh hard as Eugene spun him into an aerial. But as always, Eugene only uses his strength when necessary.

"When I graduate this year, I'm going to do my PHD in Florida," Eugene says as they slowly sway to the music, "I know I'm asking a lot but...Merriell...would you come with me?"

Snafu remains silent. He hadn't fully considered what loving Eugene might actually mean. That with him came Alabama, the Sledge family, the universities...

"I'll have a stipend, to take the financial pressure off," Eugene hastily elaborates, because Eugene always feels that if he adds more facts into the conversation he'll be more likely to win, "If you can find a job locally, that'd be great, but you wouldn't need to work. I've been budgeting this past year and I've calculated a way for the two of us to live off what I make. Maybe not comfortably, but it wouldn't be for long. When I get my diploma we can go back to New Orleans, or anywhere you want really. There are colleges and universities in almost any city. Snafu, I want you with me. No more pining after you every week and only feeling whole on the weekends…"

"How long've you been thinking about this?" Snafu asks.

Eugene is quiet for a while. "Do you mean how long have I been planning for it, or how long have I wanted it?"

"The second one?" Snafu asks, slightly uncertain.

"That day on the train…" Eugene begins.

"A few days??" Snafu interrupts incredulously, "That's all the thought you've given this, for fucks sake Gene!"

"On the train in 1946!" Eugene corrects sternly.

Which just about shuts Snafu up.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything sooner?" Snafu asks.

"Snaf, if you would just let me finish," Eugene complains, "That day on the train Burgie was talking about marriage, you were asking about jobs, everybody seemed to be thinking about commitments and when you turned to me the only damn certainty I had in my head was you. But then you didn't say goodbye. I thought...I figured…you were done with us in your life...with me."

"If I follow you to Florida will that make up for it?" Snafu asks.

Eugene grins, real slow, like he knows the past four years of Snafu being at Eugene's beck and call is partially Snafu's way of atoning for his abrupt departure. "It just might," Eugene says confidently, "It just might."

One thing about the timeline of everything doesn't add up in Snafu's mind. "So," he says, "I don't say goodbye and six months later you go and get yourself married?"

"I assumed leaving was your hint to me to try to fall back into civilian life. To forget about the war, and war buddies, live normally. And according to everyone, that meant marriage," Eugene sighs.

"Who's everybody?" Snafu smirks.

"Not you, obviously, Mr. Confirmed Bachelor," Eugene smiles back at him slyly, "But my mother, and Sid. Hell, even my brother got on me for still being a virgin."

Snafu laughs and dips his head closer to Eugene as they dance. He rests his cheek on Eugene's shoulder along with most of his weight, relying on Eugene to hold them both upright. "Did you love Edna?" he asks.

"I did, but not in the way she wanted," Eugene says quietly, "She's a lovely person, sometimes I wish I could love her like she deserves, like how I love you. Might've made life easier. But not better, I don't think."

"You saying me walking back into your life after your divorce made things better?" Snafu laughs at the absurdity.

"Yes," Eugene says seriously, "Infinitely better."

Snafu lifts his head from Eugene's shoulder in order to pull away and look into his eyes, to see if he's telling the truth. "Okay," Snafu agrees, "We'll go to Florida together. Till then, I'll see if my boss knows anyone in Auburn who can find me some work up there, and I'll move to Alabama."

Eugene gives Snafu a blank stare, so akin to the ones Snafu usually gives him, that it throws Snafu off and makes him question everything (including the efficacy of his own blank stares, maybe he should try to learn to communicate better).

The song the band is playing comes to an end, and the swing starts up again. The couples around them whirl into motion. But nobody pays attention to the two men standing in the middle of it all with their arms locked around each other.

Till Eugene surges forward and kisses Snafu.

The kiss catches Snafu off guard. Eugene's hand is flat on the small of Snafu's back and is holding Snafu flush against Eugene's body. Good thing too, cause Snafu's knees almost buckle in surprise. Eugene bends him over backwards in his enthusiasm to kiss Snafu harder, and Snafu wraps his arms tight around Eugene's neck and smiles into the kiss.

This is it, this is the 'war-is-over-we-are-going-home-together-in-triumph' kiss Snafu has been waiting for. Not triumph in the form of parades and adulation. But triumph in that against all odds, they survived, they found each other, Eugene fucking loves him, and they're gonna actually, finally...live.

They're about six years late, but Snafu figures that's forgivable when taking into account insecurities and the lingering numbness and fear hanging round their necks.

Eugene breaks the kiss and stares into Snafu's eyes, and Eugene is so pretty - he's so fucking pretty it hurts. Snafu wants to kiss him till all traces of that war weary blankness are gone from his eyes. There's moments - when Eugene comes to life with his sarcasm or sly wit or intellectual curiosity, and Snafu likes to pride himself on being able to bring those moments out. But is it enough?

After a bit Snafu begins to notice that it's not just them gone completely still. The couples around them are stopping and staring, and whispering.

"Shit," Snafu says under his breath to Eugene. He ducks his head and takes his arms off Eugene's shoulders.

"Yeah, we should probably get out of here," Eugene agrees. His hands still grip Snafu's hips.

Snafu laughs, giddy and reckless, and bumps his shoulder playfully into Gene's. If anyone nearby had any doubts after that kiss, all they'd have to do is take one look at Eugene's face and see how damn in love he is.

"Hey!" someone in the crowd calls out and Snafu can see the guy coming at them in the peripheral of his vision.

Snafu grabs Eugene's elbow. "Walk fast, but try to not draw more attention," he whispers and leads Eugene off the dance floor. They make it to the entrance and out the doors. As soon as they get outside, Snafu twines his hand with Eugene's and breaks into a run, their feet hitting the wooden boardwalk with loud hollow thumps. They can hear agitated voices and footsteps behind them, and they don't stop running till they reach the car.

Snafu slams the passenger door shut and turns to Eugene as soon as he gets inside. They're laughing from adrenaline and Snafu's heart is racing. He cups Eugene's cheek and tilts his head for another quick kiss before Eugene starts the engine.

Somehow Eugene knows the drive back to the hotel on the oceanside cliffs. Snafu doesn't pay any attention. He kicks his feet up on the dash and is too busy admiring Gene's long nose and the curve of his jaw backlit by the passing neon lights to give any thought to the car's direction.

The parking lot for the hotel is at the top of the cliff. There's a locked iron gate, nestled between eight foot tall hedges, with the name of the place welded onto it in an arc. The gate is small, and barely noticeable at the edge of the lot. Eugene has a key - it's antique and very decorative - and lets them in. The stairway beyond the gate switchbacks down the cliff, with thick walls protecting people from falling off the path. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of flowers growing abundantly around them.

Snafu pauses under one of the lamps. He folds his elbows over the wall, rests his chin on top, and looks out across the hotel and gardens below, and the ocean beyond. "We stepped into a goddamn fairytale," Snafu says.

Eugene comes up behind him with an embrace and rests his chin on Snafu's head, "Does that make you my prince?"

"No way," Snafu emphatically denies, "If anyone is a prince in this scenario, it's you Gene."

"Impossible," Eugene says with a smile, "Prince Eugene sounds like a pompous ass. Prince Merriell, on the other hand…."

Snafu laughs. "Maybe that's what my ma had in mind when she made up my name."

"Definitely," Eugene agrees, "She knew you'd grow up regal."

"Fuck regal," Snafu rolls his eyes, "Fuck propriety. You willing to give up all that shit for me, Gene? We ain't gonna be accepted into those circles anymore."

"Yes," Eugene says readily.

And Snafu believes him.

Their hotel suite, as expected, has white lace curtains covering each window, holding back the ocean breeze. Snafu's mother hung lace curtains in their home too, but those were already yellowed with age, patched in places, and quickly turned grey with dust. These hotel curtains reach to the floor and yet remain pristine.

Snafu stands on the balcony and smokes before bed. Eugene sits inside and reads. Or at least Snafu thinks Eugene is reading. Snafu turns his gaze away from the ocean only to catch Eugene guiltily ducking his head behind his journal.

"What?" Snafu asks, with a wry smile.

"Nothing," Eugene says, which almost definitely means it's something he's embarrassed about.

Snafu snubs out his cigarette and leans over Eugene's shoulder to investigate.

"Thought you just drew plants?" Snafu asks.

"I'm expanding my range," Eugene says dryly.

"You made me look skinny," Snafu comments.

"You are skinny," Eugene counters. He hooks an arm around Snafu's waist and walks him over to the bed. He sweeps Snafu off his feet in one of the lindy hop holds, and tosses Snafu onto the bed.

"Never should have taught you those aerials," Snafu teases. He stretches out across the pillows and dares Eugene with his eyes to join him.

Eugene says nothing, just grins widely as he climbs onto the bed next to Snafu.

Snafu kisses that self satisfied smile on Eugene's face.

They lie next to each other, their legs entwined, and their noses so close they're almost touching. There's a lightness in Snafu's chest he's never felt before. Happiness he knows, elation he knows - as rare as those things are. But this is new. He knows it can't last. Nightmares will come, they won't just go away, but for now he can lie here and soak up Gene's presence.

"I already knew you loved me," Snafu confesses.

"What do you mean?" Eugene asks.

"Even before you said it today. I think I've known since Okinawa," Snafu says.

"I figured," Eugene replies.

"Were a couple of fucking cowards," Snafu laughs.

"No, the world is cowardly," Eugene counters, "We were just trying too hard to adapt to it."

Snafu bites his bottom lip in consideration. He lifts his chin, thinks about saying something, and then decides words aren't necessary. Gene knows. Gene's always known. Snafu reaches over and gently takes Eugene's hand. Snafu twists around and pulls Eugene's arm across his body till his back is tucked against Eugene's chest.

Eugene folds around him. He's warm, and he's so much in love.

"Snaf," Eugene whispers in his ear before they fall asleep, "Let's get it right this time. Just you and me."

tagging requests: @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar (btw i think you have tagging turned off) (also if I am missing anybody on this list I apologize, pls tell me <3)

#sledgefu #Bad germs

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queensdivas · 5 years ago

Text

Bubbles

This is for my boo boo @bonafiderocketqueen because she’s my best friend and I hope she enjoys it!

Enjoy!

@mexifangorl @leah-halliwell92 @i-live-for-queen @its-funny-til-its-not @brianmydear @painkiller80 @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @mayplantstarrwaters

Masterlist

It had been snowing in non stop since I arrived in England to spend a week with Ben. Dear God it has not stopped since my plane literally touched down on the runway! Yet it hasn’t bothered me except when Ben isn’t around because he’s off reading for another movie. Not that I’m not grateful he’s off getting into more movies for himself and making his career better. Hells yeah for him for wanting to further his career. But when you live across the pond and can only see each other every so often. It kind of bums you out.

Tossing my book down onto the couch as I wrapped myself up in my blanket counting down the minutes till he came home from his read through. Dinner was already made since I wanted tonight to be just relaxing. Homemade chicken and noodles was exactly going to warm us up from all this stupid snow.

His dog Frankie climbed up onto the couch with me as he curled up into the blanket then tucking himself into a large ball. My fingers began scratching the top of his head as I was beginning to fall asleep with his soft breathing and the sound of winter frost blowing outside.

Before I completely passed out on his couch. Ben came bursting through the doorway with a large paper bag in his hand. It scared Frankie and I as we both almost fell off the couch. Frankie ran to him as he jumped all over him as Ben scooped him up in his arms. I shook my head a little so I would wake up and see what he was so excited about.

“Anne you would not believe what just happened!” He was bouncing off the walls with excitement as he placed the paper bag down on the coffee table then sitting next to me. Frankie was still attacking him with kisses then bouncing over to me to give me all kinds of kisses to me!

“I got the role!” He cheered as I put Frankie down on the ground so I wouldn’t hurt him on what was coming next.

“AH BEN!” I jumped on top of him to pecking my lips all over him till we now fell off the couch. Frankie jumped all over us till Ben pulled him into our dog pile laughed as we sat up in front of the couch.

“Told you they would absolutely love you!”

“I knew they would.” He smirked as I scooted closer to him then wrapping myself around him. He had his hands on my hips as his soft lips pressed against mine. Stopping myself to get a hint of his..was he working out?

“Ben why do you smell like a gym?” Dear God he smells like a very sweaty old man! Phew! Dear God he really needs some sort of bath!

“Part of the role was being able to crazy stunts and I ended up climbing up and down ropes. So I got a really great workout today because of it.” God he really stinks!

“Ben dear God you stink! I love you but damn!” Climbing off to walk into the kitchen as he got a grumpy look on his face that quickly turned into a soft smile. Are we having bath time? Dear God his bath is one of the best since it’s got jets across the wall, a small tv that hangs on the wall so we can binge watch Letterkenny while we relax, and enough room for a cheese plate!

“I’ll get the bath ready.” Well I’m hungry so I will be eating while were in the tub. Just not homemade chicken and noodles. For obvious reasons. Getting into the fridge to grab a bunch of cheese slices, grapes, and then the bottle of pink moscato for celebration! We still have two wine glasses from the other night so this is absolutely perfect!

Before I carried the tray into the bathroom. Frankie stood directly under me with his tail wagging waiting for a piece of my cheese! It’s getting close to his dinner time anyhow so I think a little peanut butter will hold him over in the end. Placing the tray down on the counter to grab his small bone from the floor then the peanut butter from the cabinet. Scooping a little of his favorite peanut butter to stuff it in his bone as he began bouncing around in excitement around my feet.

“Ah. Now you sit!” He immediately sat down for me to place his bone right in front of him. He grabbed it to wander off into the living room to start chowing down on his peanut butter bone. Now time for bubble bath!

“SHIT!” Ben yelled as I grabbed the tray of goodies to walk into the bathroom. Oh no what did he do now!? Please tell me we don’t have to buy him another phone! He and Joe once thought it would be a really good fucking idea to go skinny dipping while they were drunk. Problem is that skinny dipping meant just jumping into the closest body of water. So his phone was destroyed.

“What happened?” Asking as I walked into the bathroom to see that the bubbles in the jacuzzi were really getting out of control. Oh my god it looks so beautiful!

“No. I dropped the bubble maker and now the bathtub is going to be extra full. Damn it at this point it’s probably going to flood the entire bathroom.” And? Now our bathroom is going to smell like, what is it honey? Yes honey!

“So? Now instead of nothing, the bathroom is going to be smelling like honey and soap. Is that such a bad thing?” Placing the tray down on top of the sink as I immediately threw off all my clothes on the floor. Ben watched me as I sunk into the bubble covered jacuzzi. The jets were on low as the water was a little hotter than how I usually like it. Ben stripped down until he grabbed the tray of goodies to put right on the large corner.

He climbed down into the water as our feet entwined with each other as he turned up the jets to medium. One of them was hitting my back making me moan a little because god damn these are some wonderful jets. The bubbles kept rising as it hit the bottom of my chin, Jesus how much of the bubble liquid got out? I felt the plastic bottle floating around next to me, lifting it up to Ben as he nodded.

“There it is!” I tossed the bottle out of the tub. Shit he put the tray on his side of the tub! Hope we won't mind if I sneak over to grab some grapes. Moving from my spot in the tub to start moving towards him to we were face to face with each other. Almost about to kiss him as I moved past him to grab a grape and a cheese wedge.

“You’re a brat.” He giggled as he pulled me into his lap as the bubbles bounced around us. Jesus the stupid bubbles are still forming oh my god! Grabbing a bunch to place on the top of his head then snapping it to look like a Hershey’s kiss.

“Wait wait!” I began molding a bubble beard on his face then styling it with a nice mustache. He looked absolutely stunning!

“Ben! Picture perfect!” Looking over the edge to see my phone so I could take a picture of him and all his glory!

“If you think you’re leaving this tub without a beard you’re wrong.” Ben told me before I could even grab my phone. Smirking as I stood still for him to grab a hand full of bubbles. He began placing them all over my face trying to avoid my eyes and lips to form a Santa Claus beard on my face.

“Am I pretty yet?” He shook his head to grab more bubbles from the tub to place on top of my head. Except no Hershey kiss style hair, more like 70s Afro kind of hair.

“Now you’re gorgeous. Wanna watch the office?” I just binged watched season four while he was gone so I’m kind of feeling something a little more stupid. Not saying that the office is stupid because Creed is my spirit animal for as little time he has on screen.

“Letterkenny?” Asking as he grabbed the remote from the corner along with a cheese slice to turn on hulu. Dear God do I love Letterkenny. It’s one of the shows that’s so damn stupid that you have to love. Yes a few of the characters are a little wow but it’s so great.

Turning myself so I could scoot back into him with my back pressing against him so we could cuddle. My hand reached back for a small vine of grapes to chow down on a little. Oh my god it’s the Canadian Goose episodes yes! My absolute favorite episode out of the entire show.

“IF YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH CANADA GOOSES YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME AND I SUGGEST YOU LET THAT MARINATE!” I yelled along with Wayne because dear god I love this show! Ben squeezed me a little to then start kissing the back of my neck which made me giggle.

“Does everyone in Canada feel the same about Canada gooses?”

“Gooses! They’re beautiful majestic birds that must be protected at all cost! Born leaders and heroes!” I think I just watch this show way too much now at this point. Oh well. We went back to start watching the show as he began kissing my neck again then giving me another tight squeeze to make me giggle.

“Anne. You know I love you right?”

“No Ben. I’m naked in a bathtub with you because I consider us friends.” I have very bad sarcasm and I think it gets out of control sometimes.

“Alright smartass. But seriously. I want to ask you something because I know if I don’t I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” I stopped eating my grape to turn around completely ignoring the show now. Please don’t tell me he’s going to propose because we haven’t discussed this part of our lives yet and I’m not sure if I’m ready!

“Anne you’re my world now and I hate the fact that we live so stupidly far apart. Move in with me. Or I can move over to America with you. I don’t like the fact that we only see each other for one of two weeks out of the month. Your the person I wanna wake up in the morning and go to bed with you at night. When you’re gone. Frankie and I are just an absolute mess without you! Ask Gwil because I do nothing but bug the living hell out of him whenever you go back home! Poor Frankie crawls under my bed until you walk into my apartment and you can’t imagine the sad look on his face when you’re not around!” No I’m not crying you’re crying! But sadly I can’t take him serious with the bubbles on top of his head and around his beard! I started laughing a little in this very serious moment.

“Are you making fun of me?” His voice cracked as I placed my hands through his bubble beard to give him a kiss. My lips continuing to peck him till he stopped waiting for my answer.

“Yes Ben. I’ll be your roommate for life. Only for Frankie because poor Frankie shouldn’t be suffering!” Frankie came running into the bathroom as he began trying to get into the tub with us.

“No Frankie that’s weird!” Ben laughed till he jumped into the empty spot of the tub for water and bubbles to go all over the place! He began splashing around in the tub with the bubbles flying all over the place, in the food, and more on Ben and I! I grabbed Frankie to get him out of the tub so we could get back to our bath time. Once out he stayed right next to the tub staring us down.

“Gonna be honest with you Ben, really don’t feel comfortable with Frankie watching us in the tub.” He turned off the jets as I pulled the plug from the drain.

“Fair enough. Besides. We now have all the time in the world for those pleasantries since you’ll be here for now on. Or they. Where exactly are we going to live now?” Good question.

“We’ll figure that out later. Homemade chicken and noodles tonight for dinner with some carrots?”

“Sounds absolutely delicious.”

#Ben Hardy #Ben Hardy x reader #Ben Hardy x OC #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x female reader #Joe Mazzello #Gwilym Lee #Rami Malek #Lucy Boynton #Bohrap #Bohrap Boys

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serendipitouscontaminant · 7 years ago

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@intearsaboutrobots asked oh g o s h, how bout forgetting to eat and ray (he's very busy ! doing science !)

This is for Bad Things Happen Bingo. This is my card.

Bingo square: Forgetting to eat

Content notes for grief and canon character death. Strangely enough, this is 70% comedy.

____

Guess We’ll Never Know

Ray is doing science.

Normal.

Ray is doing science in silence, literally locked in the lab.

Less normal? That's debatable, apparently.

Nate is convinced there’s something fishy going on here. Sara agrees. Zari and Mick both say to just leave Ray to do his thing. He’s a scientist, of course he’s going to lock himself in the lab sometimes, it’s not that weird. Nate and Sara counter that, yeah, that might be a stereotypical scientist thing, but it’s not a Ray thing. Ray loves spending time with other people, and he’s gung ho about living healthy, and when he gets really, possibly unhealthily, into something science-related, he usually at least tries to talk someone’s ear off about it.

He’s not the kind of guy who locks himself in his lab for nearly a week when there’s absolutely nothing even vaguely life-threatening going on, other than the Legends all living on the same ship, which might count.

Zari says that they’re being overbearing and they should just let Ray do what he does best, he can take care of himself and she could swear that she’s seen him in the halls a few times, probably going to get food or something.

This leads to the whole team trading Ray sightings and arguing as to whether they’re actually just making things up, right until Nate points out that they’re acting like Ray’s Bigfoot or something, and once you can switch out a conversation about your teammate with a conversation about a cryptid just by changing a single detail, in this case said teammate’s name, there’s a good reason to worry. He has a point, Constantine, who has no dog in this fight and has been playing both sides for a lark, says.

Mick says that this is all stupid, and walks away. Classic Mick.

However, in spite of Mick’s unceremonious exit, it can comfortably be said that at this point all opinions have been swayed towards ‘we should be worried.’

Well, not Constantine’s, because he cannot emphasize enough how he has no dog in this fight. He saves dogs for people he really cares about, and none of the Legends are there yet other than Sara. He quite likes Sara.

In spite of this doglessness, Constantine is the one to check on Ray, mostly because everyone else is debating on how to best check on Ray even though they could always just ask Gideon how he’s doing or go down there with no fanfare, two options that they have helpfully forgotten—much like how they have forgotten to be reasonable or efficient over what should quite frankly be low-stress decisions for a prolonged length of time—in the name of the continuation of the narrative.

Besides, they’re stir crazy without any actual missions. They’ll argue about anything at this point, and since Ray hasn’t been around (a pressing issue), there’s nobody to, say, arrange a catastrophic game night, which would at least get out everyone’s pent up energy.

…This is mostly because, while Constantine is a surprisingly affable and competent board gamer, he wins every game, and Mick is a terrible loser, Sara is a terrible loser, Zari is easily frustrated and also a terrible loser, Ray has the rules to literally every board game in existence memorized word-for-word and will not budge on them, and Nate, for all his ability to remember every single major fire in the United States since its inception, secretly still doesn’t really know how to play Monopoly, and is not above knocking the entire board to the floor to keep anyone from finding out his dark secret, even though fessing up would possibly spare everyone from having to play Monopoly, which would quite frankly be one of those acts of everyday heroism the Huffington Post is always on about.

(Mick knows about Nate’s Monopoly problem, though. How? Unclear. Mick just knows a lot of things. Why does Mick not tell? A mystery.)

Anyway, Constantine goes to see how Dr. Palmer’s getting on, mostly because he, like everyone else on the game nightless ship, is very bored and has nothing better to do. He is also a bit curious. He also feels a vague sense of doom about the whole situation, though that may just be the vague sense of doom he feels roughly one hundred percent of the time.

When he steps into the lab, he finds papers tossed everywhere, three whiteboards (well, ‘whiteboards’ is a little generous for what are more large plexiglass rectangles covered in scribbles, but that is not an issue at the front of John’s mind), and no less than thirteen empty cans of a drink called ‘Monster’.

He takes a step inside the lab (a can of Monster crunching underfoot), meaning to make his presence known to Ray, who currently has his back to him and is writing some equation on a fourth and comically large high fashion not whiteboard. (Too long, John has better things to do than think all those words over something so stupid.)

John is not sure when exactly this whiteboard was created or whether it did in fact exist before Ray went into this fit, because it really is excessively enormous, given that Ray is standing on a stool to scrawl mumbo jumbo on it, and Ray is six foot three.

“Hello, Dr. Palmer,” John says genially, only not fazed by this situation due to the fact that he consistently deals with different, more life-and-limb-threatening situations that border on the absurd, or catapult over the border and into the wide field of ‘what in the bloody fucking world is even happening, look like you know what you’re doing, John, you fear nothing’. He gauges that to be genuinely fazed, the cans of Monster would have to become actual small monsters.

Ray jumps and yet somehow doesn’t fall from his perch, even when he twists around to look at John, though he does sway dangerously, and John steps forward experimentally, wondering exactly how squished he will get if he tries to catch Dr. Palmer once the man inevitably loses his battle with gravity.

Ray’s hair is mussed and unwashed, his fetching chin is covered in stubble, his clothes are several days old, he’s shaking, and his eyes are full of the pure manic energy of a man who does not consistently drink large amounts of caffeine, and yet has made the unfortunate and currently inexplicable decision to replace half his blood with energy drinks.

“Constantine!” he says, voice both welcoming and edgy. His smile is so wide that John can see just about all of his teeth. The smile, paired with the general mad scientist vibe he’s emitting, makes him look like a serial killer, the kind that dresses his victims in fun outfits and then poses them in a whimsical manner while leading the police on a wild goose chase. He will never be brought to justice. “How’s it going?”

“You’ve been here for nearly a week,” John says. “Your friends are both worried and being utterly inconvenient about it.”

“A week,” Ray says, vibrating. “Wow!”

These are the last words he says before his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he falls to the floor.

John is briefly on high alert, given that eyes rolling into the back of the head is not a good sign in his line of work, but he quickly realizes that the good doctor is lying quite still and is happily unpossessed.

Wow indeed.

John wanders over to him to see if he’s just out cold or dead. He is thankfully just out cold, because even John would feel bad if Ray were dead. His gluten free cupcakes really aren’t so bad, and he very much enjoys winning all the games. He never wins against Gary.

Ray’s pulse is impressively fast. “Gideon, dear,” John says, “I think the others may want to see this.”

“Way ahead of you, Mr. Constantine,” Gideon says.

Of course.

It takes a matter of minutes—more than one, but less than five—for the others to rush in. Well, Mick doesn’t rush in so much as amble, brow furrowed in what might be annoyance and might be concern. (It’s both.)

Ray wakes up in under five minutes, which is good. He’s bleary-eyed and rubbing his head, and he’s discombobulated enough that he doesn’t really protest when Nate and Mick bodily drag him out of the lab, though he does give his enormous whiteboard a sad look, as if saying goodbye and promising to come back soon.

John stays behind, surveying the lab. He suspects that whatever happens in the medbay will involve feelings he’s not particularly interested in, so his work here is done.

In the medbay, Ray has finally found his voice again, and his voice isn’t happy about the saline drip he’s getting. He and his miraculously nonexistent concussion would rather take some laps around the ship.

“Actually, Dr. Palmer, I would suggest you eat,” Gideon says.

“Pish posh!” an actual human being named Ray Palmer says with zero irony. “You keep telling me that!”

“Because it keeps being true,” Gideon replies, dry as the toast that Ray could at least have tried to force down the past several mornings.

It turns out that, much like Bigfoot sightings, the Ray sightings were the product of wishful thinking. He really had not existed outside of the lab for all that time except to go to the bathroom. He even had Gideon make him seven six packs of Monster before going in.

And yet no food or water.

When Nate points out that astonishing oversight after hearing that Ray did prepare himself for his science fit, sort of, Ray shrugs sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“You, Mr. Three Square Meals a Day, just straight up forgot?”

“Yeah. There’s...I don’t have another answer, I really did.”

“Okay, so why did you go full absent-minded professor?”

Ray doesn’t answer the question, though a troubled look does flit across his face for about five point two seconds.

Instead, he decides to go back to the food thing.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Ray says, clearly in a vaguely dreamlike and yet incredibly awake state. “I’ve transcended it.”

There is a beat as the others process the non sequitur and general insanity of that statement, and then chaos as everyone starts talking over each other about how stupid that very thought is, right up until Zari’s voice manages to break through.

“You’ve transcended hunger?” Zari parrots for about the third time. “Ray, take it from someone who knows—you’re just starving.”

“I feel kind of sick, actually,” Ray says in a polite rebuttal. “So there’s that.”

“Raymond, of course you feel sick, you’ve been overworking yourself and living off caffeine,” Nate says, all long-suffering hypocrisy.

“Oh, as if you don’t do the exact same thing, Mr. Do As I Say Not As I Do.”

“Yeah, I’m vetoing that nickname. And seriously, this isn’t really like you.”

“Actually, I was totally like this. I mean, I’ve been totally like this before. I missed work because I was so focused on work.”

“Yeah, but you’ve kind of...grown out of that. Or at least you weren’t like this about it other than when you were all imposter syndrome about your suit. I mean, buddy, I get being obsessed with your work, but you fainted. You’ve been mainlining energy drinks. It’s been six days. Even when you get weird and obsessed, you usually at least interact with...anyone. And energy drinks are like...caffeine and sugar. You somehow think both of those things are bad for you. Also, it’s been six days. This isn’t Ray behavior.”

“Oh, like you really know me,” Ray snaps.

His outburst causes only vague confusion. “...I do really know you, Ray. We all do. We’re on the same ship and the same team. We have literally met you as a child.”

Ray flounders. “Okay, you might have a point. But I’m just...this is important! I’m brushing up on nuclear physics! I mean, not that I’m not good at nuclear physics, I’m possibly amazing—it’s healthy to recognize your own talents—but I’ve really been leaning on the engineering side lately, not so much the theoretical, and now without...” he trails off and swallows hard. “Without Marty, I’m catching up. There are some questions I never got to ask him and now...” his voice breaks, and he runs a shaking hand through his greasy hair, “I have to figure them out myself.”

Silence settles over the room like a shroud, and Sara, without even thinking, looks over at the corner of the room where no one is, half expecting to see a familiar form sighing in a put upon way and pacing back and forth like a ruffled chicken.

Maybe Stein could’ve talked some sense into Ray.

Sara clears her throat and Nate looks down at the floor and Zari looks up at the ceiling in the way people do when they’re trying not to cry and Mick just stares at nothing because he’s staring at memories instead—he and the professor made a weird amount of memories in this medbay—and Ray swipes at his eyes. “If he was still alive, I could just use the temporal communicator to ask him, but he’s not, and I never got to ask him, and I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it all out.”

“He had more...time, Ray,” Sara says, and the words sound so ridiculous (he didn’t get enough time, he didn’t) she wants to laugh until she cries and then probably never stop crying, for Martin and Rip and Leonard and Laurel and even Jax, so far away and with half of him dead and gone. She doesn’t do any of that. She soldiers on. “He had more time to get it all figured out, and when you have...more time, so will you.”

And eventually, she absolutely does not say because no one says it, you’ll have even more time than he did, if everything turns out right.

Ray laughs a little. “That implies that I’ll ever be as good at theoretical nuclear physics as Marty.”

“Maybe you won’t be,” Zari chimes in. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a genius and it doesn’t mean you’ll, what? Let us all down because you’re not him? You’re not him. You’re you.”

“He’s never coming back,” Mick offers in a grumbling undertone from where he’s leaning against the far wall. “You can’t replace dead people, and you suck at trying.”

He meets Ray’s eyes, and Ray remembers that time that they tried. He manages a smile. “I know.”

He sighs heavily and says, “I really went off the rails for a second there, didn’t I?”

Sara shrugs. “Happens to all of us.”

“I should eat,” Ray admits. “I can’t believe I forgot. I mean, I can, but that’s why I have alarms.”

“What happened to those?” Nate asks.

“I think I spilled Monster on my phone.”

“That checks out.” Nate heaves out a sigh. “Okay. Let’s go to the kitchen, big guy. You can go back to bothering us about three square meals again. And water intake.”

Ray agrees, because hydration is very important, no matter what the Ray who’d forgotten that Marty wasn’t actually just a call away seemed to think, and he only sways a little on his feet when he stands up after getting the saline drip out.

Constantine is in the kitchen when the rest of the team traipses in, sprawled on a chair and reading some kind of velvet-bound tome with his feet propped up on one of the other chairs. He looks up at the other Legends and says, “Ah, you’re back, then?”

Ray attempts one of his usual smiles, but it takes more work than usual. “I’m back.”

He wanders to the middle of the kitchen and just kind of stands there while the others wait for him to have a cardiac event or maybe pass out again.

Instead:

“What should I eat?” Ray asks the world at large, waffling. He really is not hungry, and he really does feel kind of sick to his stomach, like one might after drinking eighteen cans of a brand of energy drink he remembered seeing on a billboard in Star City.

“Waffles?” Nate suggests. “It’s breakfast.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, bro. Six days after last time you ate breakfast.”

Ray sighs and murmurs, probably to himself, “I just haven’t been able to figure it out without him.”

Nate and Sara share a look. It’s not a happy look. Trace amounts of the absences on the ship have traveled into every part of it, including the oxygen, and sometimes it hurts just to breathe.

“Grapefruit,” Ray says decisively, distracting everyone from their separate waves of grief for just a moment. “I want grapefruit.”

Very suddenly, everyone realizes that they also kind of want grapefruit, even though none of them can remember the last time they had it. Still, all of them—other than Constantine, who’s feeling a bit odd about the whole vibe in the kitchen right now, from Mick’s surprisingly glossy eyes to the way that Gideon’s already prepared a giant bowl of that infernal fruit even before Zari comes around to ask for it—know exactly where the craving is coming from.

(It’s an attempt to at least calm that empty ache in their stomachs that isn’t hunger, the one for Martin, because grief makes everything revolve around what—who—just isn’t anymore and somehow still is everything, like all of them have become planets orbiting a black hole, only surviving getting sucked in and pulled to pieces by a miracle of metaphorical pseudoscience, or maybe just each other.)

Zari plops the huge bowl of grapefruit halves down on the table, and Ray’s the first to take one. He digs his spoon into the fruit and sighs in pleasure when he takes a bite, clearly coming to the realization that his miraculous lack of hunger paired with queasiness is indeed actually the feeling one gets when starving. He gets through two grapefruits before he slows down at all.

All of them realize, while eating their breakfast, that, objectively, they don’t like grapefruit.

It’s still somehow delicious—though, Mick says critically, his is a little tart.

(They would all be horrified if they knew that somewhere on their Earth lives a woman—one they know and love, even!—who eats her grapefruit with salt, but there’s no one here who can share that particular little anecdote, and so the story goes untold.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898194

#legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow fic #ray palmer #fic tag #badthingshappenbingo #team legends #prompt: forgetting to eat #long post #long post on mobile

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real-fakedoors · 7 years ago

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under leaves so green - CHPT 13 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 13: Coffee Roses, Crepe Gardenias

In which, Adrien goes out in his pajamas, Marinette bruises her knuckles, Ladybug considers a career in plumbing, Chat Noir is basically freaking out, and Chloe is... well, Chloe.

Adrien probably should go back to sleep.

It was early - really early.

It was so early that the sky was still pitched in the tones of forgiving purple and forgotten ebony, the cusp of dawn still weak in the rising daytime.

Sleeping sounded nice, but he lay awake in a dark room with a head full of thoughts.

For the second morning in a row, he had woken up without need of an alarm or the knock of Nathalie at his door, and both nights previous he had gone to bed far later than he should have.

Unlike yesterday, though, Adrien didn’t even have the excuse of early morning sunlight, glaring accusingly across his face.

Rolling over in a his valley of dark sheets, Adrien pulled his phone towards him and checked the time.

“Five o’ one,” he grumbled quietly, head heavy with lost sleep. Still, the lids of his eyes refused to droop with satisfaction, every inch of his mattress suddenly feeling uncomfortable and restrictive. It was too warm in the room, and the blankets felt like a cavern of dreams sacrificed in vain to another morning.

Rolling over, Adrien’s attention was drawn to the windows at the end of the room, where the daubs of black night still streaked the sky, and it looked inviting.

With no sound in the room but the light hum of a sleeping kwami, the teen could just barely hear the workers in the house begin their daily service. It came in waves, a tapping pair of shoes or a closing door, and once, he heard someone sneeze. Birds began to sing, and the quiet distractions added to the steady rise of awareness that woke his brain, creeping up further with each passing minute.

After several minutes of just existing - the bare minimum - Adrien realized his room had grown entirely still.

He shifted his head back on the pillows, gazing up through his fringe. A droopy pair of green eyes shined down at him, blinking slow.

“‘Morning, Plagg,” Adrien yawned as he sat up in bed. A much smaller mewl of sleepiness followed, and the kwami rubbed his eyes.

“Sup,” replied his companion, shifting on the pillows as Adrien stood up and crossed the room, unlocking a few of the windows along the wall. Plagg watched him, and Adrien could feel her curious green eyes follow his movements; it was unusual for them to go out in the morning unless beckoned by the demands of an akuma, but right now, the cool promise of a sleeping Paris seemed a welcome reprieve.

“Plagg?” He called, brows raised. Without complaint, the black presence floated up from the sheets.

“Claws out.”

Immediately, his skin felt lighter, the sweat that dried to the back of his neck caught the morning breeze and his skin erupted into oddly enjoyable gooseflesh beneath supple leather that straddled his skin. It was the feeling of being alive, and lately, he reveled in every minute he had.

Chat Noir took to the rooftops, stopping not far from his home, just high enough that passersby would not notice but near enough that he could watch the city come to life.

Cloudless sun and temperate weather was forecasted for the day ahead, which, especially after yesterday’s unbearable heat, Chat was grateful for. Legs dangling from the roof, he hummed along to the quiet overture of day switching shifts with the night. Early commuters, people on bicycles, dog-walkers following their pooches to-and-fro, and traffic began to buzz with the call of careers, cashing in their early morning dues.

Soon, he guessed, Marinette would join them in the listless symphony of work. Anxious to see her, Chat wondered if he might get to work with her again today; it was a fun partnership, much like that he had with Ladybug. Feeling a bit selfish, the black-suited hero even toyed with the idea of leaping over to her balcony right this moment, but he didn’t want wake her unfairly.

Princesses need sleep, he thought with a wry smile.

So, for the time being, Chat was content to watch the city from the sidelines. That didn’t mean he had to be entirely without company.

Murmuring a few quick words, he dropped his transformation.

“That was fast,” Plagg commented as he fluttered down to Adrien’s knee, perched over the side of the building.

The blond shrugged. “Thought you’d like to join me.”

“We are literally one being as Chat Noir, you know,” his kwami replied in false exasperation. “I see the same things you do.”

“I know that,” Adrien huffed, scratching Plagg on top of a head to calm his morning grumpiness. “But I feel weird talking to myself outloud to talk to you. I thought this seemed less weird.”

Plagg grumbled a small “... whatever,” and curled more comfortably onto Adrien’s pajamas, apparently enjoying the petting too much to come up with a more clever rebuke.

After a few moments, the teen lobbed a question at the kwami. It was heavy, one that had been weighing on his mind for a few days.

“What do you think about telling Marinette I’m Chat Noir?”

Plagg peered up at his charge, thoughtful while he considered his response.

It’s not like he could say he was surprised.

In truth, Plagg wanted Adrien to just admit it to the girl, so he and Tikki could spend their time together more easily, to just get the silly love square they were trapped in over with. A being old as time, though, he knew that was selfish and irresponsible - and that was coming from him, not to mention what Tikki would say. She was the responsible one in their little kwami world.

They had to figure out some choices on their own, but he also wouldn’t outright lie to his charge.

Slowly, he construed an answer. “Hmm… well, I think it’s dumb, and you’re dumb for thinking it.”

Adrien snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. “I was being serious, you know.”

“So was I, but I also wasn’t finished,” his kwami answered with a clipped tone.

“Oh. Well, go on then,” Adrien prompted.

Vaguely, the teen made a note that Plagg’s tail was flickering in an odd pattern, but otherwise, his expression was unreadable.

“I think it’s dumb, but I understand why you might want to tell her. It’s hard to keep secrets from the people you care about. Thinking with that heart of yours instead of your brain, as you do, it’s not a surprise you’d be want to do something dumb. The real problem isn’t what you want, though.”

Adrien already understood the meaning of his kwami’s words. Pressing his lips together, he finished the explanation. “... It’s about her safety.”

“Right.” Plagg frowned and rolled over onto his back, looking much the cat as he did so.

“That sucks,” the blond pointed out.

“Yeah,” his kwami agreed with a small shrug. “So even though you’re stupid, I think you’re just the right amount of stupid that you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Wow, Plagg, thanks. You’re such a big help.”.

Plagg rolled over and yawned. “I know, I’m the best.”

The pair grew quiet for a time, Plagg cozying up into a ball of black fur and lulling into an easy sleep, but Adrien was still feeling very awake. His mind was abuzz like the rising Paris day, still tinted in black from each horizon, but with some tonal shades of color beginning to sprout from the East.

Adrien recovered his phone from the pocket of his pajamas, doing his best not to disturb Plagg. He was intending to use the chance to Google some lore about flora, maybe impress Marinette with a “oh-so-natural” story about some obscure plant in the shop, and she would stare blankly with those pretty blue eyes.

“Wow, Adrien, I’m so impressed. You’re so handsome and intelligent, I’m just so lucky!” She might say. Maybe.

In reply, he might brush it off like she does, each time she impresses him. “Heh, well, it’s just a fact I picked up on the side. Nothing too impressive, really.”

The silly daydream played out for a minute, but Adrien nearly dropped his phone in surprise when he noticed the very same girl’s name on his screen.

Marinette had left him a voicemail, only a few minutes after he turned to Chat Noir; as his alter ego, all of his civilian wares (aside from his ring) were inaccessible.

Frowning, he lifted the device to his ear.

It crackled for a moment, there was a light swishing noise, and then it went out again.

“Hmm,” Adrien frowned at his phone. “Maybe she rolled over her phone in her sleep?”

Eliciting a very non-manly yelp, the phone started ringing again and he nearly thrashed Plagg off his lap in the process.

“AH-HEY! What gives?!” The kwami screeched, rubbing his cheek where Adrien’s knee had made contact with his face.

“S-Sorry! Mari’s calling me…” Scowling, he cleared his throat and accepted the call.

“Hi, Mari. What are you doing up so --”

Again, he was greeted by a loud crackling sound, and Adrien pulled the phone away in irritation.

He tried again. “Marinette? Can you hear me?”

A little distant, Adrien caught what sounded like a conversation. The first voice was forcefully feminine, and oddly pitched. “ --n’t you worry. You can rest easy knowing.... Paris brats ...to your rescue.”

Marinette’s voice was much louder, and much closer. “Planifcateur, you can’t do this! Snatching up local shopkeeps who weren’t able to help you - it’s not right!”

“Please,” said another voice, not quite as clear as Marinette’s, but closer than the first. Adrien thought it seemed familiar, too. “We are all trying our best to meet the needs of your -- ”

“Silence!”

That he heard loud-and-clear.

“If everything was proper, and neat, and ordered… have happened! My job… problem. Now...”

A weird clicking sound punctuated her speech.

Marinette cut in. “Madam Cesair-!”

“Let’s stay on schedule!”

The line went dead.

He blinked a few times, the feeling of cold water splashing his face and leaving him out to hypothermic danger, skin paling with the slow sense of recognition. Plagg’s own eyes had gone wide - apparently, his sensitive hearing made it easy for him to pick up on the message. Staring from the phone to his kwami, then the phone again, he felt confusion and concern course through him in the form of furious adrenaline.

“Hawkmoth,” Plagg said, almost spitting the word.

Ignoring the lump forming in this throat, Adrien did not hesitate. Now was not the time for that.

“Plagg, claws out.”

For a being without wings, Chat Noir flew across the city, leaping in the cool morning air of Paris with more pressure mounting in his chest than he’s ever known. His heart moved at a pace that would put the fastest runner of the Schneider Electric to shame. It was like someone had decided to excavate his chest cavity from the inside, and it only pushed him faster and faster over the rooftops.

He reached for his baton and tried to call Ladybug.

No answer.

Frustrated, he growled and put the device away. He was already upon the roof of Marinette’s terreanial paradise, and the place seemed empty without her. The absence of the life within, fueled by the love of a black-haired Nightingale, sucked the personality and light right from the walls. A lamp run out from oil, the place was vacant in more ways than one.

This wasn’t like the last akuma attack, a stranger with a familiar target. His - her - Marinette was in danger, and Alya’s mother, and possibly others, too.

Glaring at the glass, Chat’s reflection glared right back. The call was a serendipitous clue as to the context of the situation, but it was also terribly stress-inducing. He assumed Marinette must’ve just tried to call anyone she could without putting herself in danger, probably to notify the police.

Luckily, or not, Chat Noir was not the police.

So what did he know? Chat reviewed what little information he had.

Planifcateur, the Planner, had an interest in Marinette and Alya’s Mom. Specifically, using them as hostages to lure out himself and Ladybug. There was some sort of problem with Planifcateur’s job, probably related to her getting akumatized…

A stirring wind ruffled his hair and tickled his ears, and Chat Noir heard a buzzing sound grow nearer and nearer. His attention flickered above, spotting a familiar TVi helicopter.

“Well, that’s helpful,” he half-smirked, but his heart wasn’t really in it. There wasn’t anyone around to hear his comment or offer a witty remark.

Chat set off into the dewy mist, ill met by moonlight. The evanescent glow of a new moon provided little in the way of illumination - not that he needed it with scoptic senses - but the omen of dark skies didn’t help his growing trepidation.

It only took a few blocks of following after the news helicopter to establish a sense of the akuma’s path. Most attacks concentrated around the school, the Eiffel Tower, the television station, City Hall, or Le Grande Paris for one reason or another. Tonight, as Chat leapt closer towards a specific edge of town, he grew increasingly uncomfortable at the sight of a hotel he’d had lunch in just the day previous.

Marinette had mentioned that morning about sending away some “goons” from the store, claiming they worked at Le Grande Paris. Something about being unreasonable, and the encounter ended with her refusing their business. Given the rest of the evidence available - Madam Cesaire worked at the hotel, and the growing volume of sirens over the steady, rhythmic pounding of the city below as he neared the location - it was all likely related.

Wait…

Something about that wasn’t right.

During an akuma attack, depending on how recently the plot began to unravel, Paris was in one of two states: total catastrophic panic, people running and screaming from ground zero, or eerie, bone-chilling silence. The stacco thumping of marching feet on pavement was as unusual as it was troubling.

Chat paused in his pursuit, scowling into one of the main drags that would guide him right to the hotel, and the sight was almost beautiful, but even more, it was disturbing. An otherwordly sea of stars in the sprawling Mâcon countryside, a hundred, no, maybe a thousand? A thousand tiny lights twinkled in the hands of civilians. From apartments, houses, businesses and even stopped cars, people streamed into the roads and sidewalks, meandering in unison. All of them were, in some manner, gripping technology in their hands. By the looks of, mostly cell phones and personal tablets were secured close to each person’s chest, absorbing their attention by way of a crisp white-blue light that reflected eerily back at each person’s face, clouding their eyes.

“I’ve heard of technology addiction, but this…” Chat murmured. Reaching for his baton again, he tried to contact Ladybug (thankfully, the fundamentals of computer engineering didn’t seem apply to magical items, as the light of his baton remained acid green).

Still, no answer, and the thought brought a grimace to his lips. He could only hope she was being delayed and hadn’t happened to be on her cell phone when this mess started.

A quick inhale of night air steadied him, and Chat flashed across the Parisian skyline towards Le Grande Paris with a mixture of fear and purpose driving his sprint.

The black-suited hero had been doing this long enough to know that sometimes, it was best to wait for Ladybug, and others, it was best to gather information on the scene. His partner’s lack of response was not reassuring, and without knowing what Planifcateur had planned for the hostages, he knew there was really only one option. There was no time to waste.

“... Marinette,” he whispered through grit teeth, leaping a bit faster. Within minutes, the lights of the hotel were visible, a beacon through the morning.

His heavy boots thumped against the stone roof, landing across from Le Grande Paris. The place was a portrait of bustling activity, and he scowled at a loud, shrill laugh at the end of the street.

A massive television screen flickered to life, though none of the people mindlessly going to-and-fro so much as glanced at. The image on the screen suggested it wasn’t intended for them anyways.

Wearing a sneer, a biting tone called out across Paris. “Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

Nadja Chamack, wearing a grin he’d seen on models a dozen time - a strained, fake, forced smile - stood on the left side of the screen, and on the right must have been the Planner.

Her body was a swirl of red and crisp, bright white. Draped in a luxurious scarlet pants-suit, her attire was a level of business-professional that would have impressed even his father. Along her nose, an over-exaggerate pair of ruby-red glasses swooped out almost a foot on each side from her temples. From head-to-toe, the woman was decked out in all sorts of technology that shimmered in the darkness. A bluetooth headset, a slim tablet in her hands, some sort of sophisticated, technological watch on her wrist. Electronics under her touch were replaced by LED machinations into glowing monstrosities of power, and Chat could only guess which one might contain the akuma.

“You have an appointment in the basement of Le Grande Paris with me. The only acceptable forms of ID are your Miraculous! I’d suggest you don’t be late…”

She stepped off-screen, and Chat clenched his jaw. Tied up on a large pouf was one Chloe Bourgeois, scowling at the camera.

“I don’t --” she started to say, but Chat didn’t even hear her. Around the room, at least a dozen people marched around stiffly to the tune of the same hypnotism that drew in all the civilians below.

One of those individuals happened to have dark, messy hair.

Marinette was scowling - and damned be if it wasn’t adorable - at a large array of flowers and plants already occupying pots. He couldn’t imagine they were from the flower shop, as the place seemed in pristine (though empty) condition when he left the scene a few minutes earlier. She was one of the only people stationary, sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands ever-busy with the task she’d been set to.

Ah.

Now it clicked.

Everyone was working, and by the looks of it, working hard. Sweeping, cooking, driving, brewing coffee, and, in Marinette’s case, pruning and plucking at petals without any of her usual enthusiasm.

The Planner was putting everyone to work - tireless, back-breaking work. She waved a wicked goodbye into the camera, replacing it with a large digital timer.

5 00

4 49

4 48

4 47

…

“Five minutes?” Chat groaned, rolling his head back. A little more quietly, he glared at his baton. “LB where are you?”

Without back-up, he felt very much a kitten walking into the Canine’s Den, but what choice did he have? The Planner didn’t elaborate on what she intended to do with Chloe or the others, but the threat behind her words needed no explanation. Someone was going to get hurt.

Grumbling, he leapt down to street level, his scowl flickering at the doorman. The man gave Chat a polite smile and gestured for him to continue, but with a conspicuous vacancy in his eyes - replaced by the same radiant white glow of the Planner’’s electronics.

No one made any move to capture him or harass him for his miraculous; indeed, if he didn’t know better, no one even noticed him. Everyone seemed content to be distracted by their work, a bustle of life in the lobby that had no time for his distractions, apparently.

Chat strode to the stairs, forgoing the elevator, and quickly descended to the basement.

The level was designed to split into an octangular set of hallways, each of the eight walls in the central service areas extending to different sections for the staff - cleaning and laundry, deliveries and postal service, etc. A shadow of the glamour of the rest of the hotel, everything was still painfully polished and posh, but without the same level of detail. No velvet furniture or glittering chandelier here.

In the center of the basement atrium that connected the many hallways was a familiar picture - Chloe, being berated by the akumatized victim, tied up and her expression flashing between anger and annoyance. From Chat’s perspective at his little window in the stairwell, he couldn’t see Marinette, but none of the other workers seemed to be harmed. Alya’s mom shuffled past at one point, encumbered by a massive container of vegetables, and her expression suggested she was in pain. Judging by the size of the bin, Chat could only guess the weight was something close to Ivan’s body mass, and she was hauling it across the room and out a set of doors.

A resounding crash erupted off to one-side, drawing the eyes of few - Chat, Chloe, and Planifcateur all turned to the sound.

The Planner marched down one of the hallways, pursuing the sound. “What is this racket? Bringing disorder to my perfect schedule?”

Seizing his chance, Chat swiftly slipped through the door and looked around.

“Chat N--!” Chloe, began, but he silenced her with a succinct “shh!”

Hissing quietly, he opened the doorway to the hotel. “Everyone, listen, I’ll get you out but you have to hurry - whatever you do, don’t look… at…” His voice trailed off when he noticed no one was paying attention to him, bustling around without so much as batting an eye.

Except one person, who was positively beaming.

Chat slinked across the length of the room and almost threw himself into Marinette.

“Mari.” Chat managed to speak her name, a desperate question answered by her hug. She was okay, and her voice was a sigh of sweet relief.

“Hi, Chat,” she whispered back. “Everyone’s been - er, I don’t know exactly. Brainwashed. I think it has something to do with their technology…”

He hardly heard her, just nodding into her shoulder and relishing her perfume and soft arms. A million worries itched his throat in the form of unspoken questions. Are you okay? What happened? How did you get here? Are those your pajamas? Why aren’t you a mindless working-zombie like everyone else? Who cares - hey, I’m Adrien, and I was so worried - did you mean to call me earlier? How did you manage that? Can I kiss you again? Just to make sure you’re really okay?

They hadn’t the time for any of his words, though, as the sound of crisp heels clicked towards them. Flinching, Chat hurriedly helped Marinette to stand. “Okay. I don’t know if I can get them all to follow... but, let me at least get you and Chloe out of here…”

Marinette pulled a face. “Chloe should be plenty to disrupt her plan - she’s the one Planifcateur wants.”

The blonde swung her ponytail around and hmmp’d rather pointedly, but did not disagree. Chat pulled Marinette by the wrist towards the stairs, letting her lead the way while he stopped to scoop up a hampered Chloe. Quiet and quick, they climbed the stairwell to a bustling hotel of hypnotized workers, buzzing around to tend to their duties. It made bounding towards the glittering front doors easy enough - that is, until they reached them.

“Hold on!” A heavy-set man stepped in front of them, clad in a dark uniform that offered his name - Rémy - but his eyes were cast in alabaster by the technological hypnotism.

Chloe barked an order before Chat or Marinette could react. “Rémy, stand aside. You’re to keep unwanted guests from entering or leaving the premise, but I can go as I please, thank-you-very-much.” His gaze flickered over Chat and Chloe, eyes narrowed and nodded, but grabbed Marinette by the wrist and dragged her to one side, and she cried out in his iron grip. “Mme. Bourgeious and Chat Noir may go. But you don’t have a visitation pass.”

A cataclysmic urge bubbled at Chat’s throat, coming out instead as a growl. Struggling to put Chloe down with her bound limbs, he scowled in concern when he heard Marinette speak-up.

The girl cleared her throat, using her free hand to pat her shoulder-strap clutch. “Sir? I do have a pass, it’s in my purse.”

Squinting distrustfully, Rémy reluctantly released his hold but hovered over her, calling her bluff, duty bound to do his job by the akuma’s magic. Marinette whipped her arm back to her chest and massaged her wrist with her other hand. The blonds met eyes, and Chloe shook her head - don’t look at me.

Chat was prepared to intervene - no way Marinette’s claim was true - but something about her confident smirk made the cat swallow his tongue.

Rémy did not leave and inch of personal space as the dark-haired girl fumbled with her purse, opening the clasp and digging around.

“Here we go,” she said evenly, and in a quick flash of pale skin, she brought out her hand, balled into a fist, and made direct contact with the man’s jaw. With a sickening crack of his teeth gnashing together, the doorman collapsed backwards, sprawling on the floor.

Chat’s felt his own jaw go slack, blinking stupidly.

I’m going to marry this girl, I swear.

“W-what did you do to Rémy?!” Chloe squirmed in Chat’s grip, metaphorically floored at how easily Marinette had very literally floored her doorman.

“What I had to,” she stated with a shrug, as if she hadn’t just single-handedly knocked out a man twice her size and her age, turning briskly to head out into the Paris streets.

Chloe’s lip twisted back, curling with displeasure. “Well? Are we going or what?”

“Uhh…” Chat gulped, feeling a little flustered, and sauntered after his unfreakin’ believable girlfriend. “Right…”

Sighing, Marinette rubbed her sore knuckles, spotting Chat and Chloe emerge from the building. She had taken refuge around the corner of the first-floor cafe patio, separated from the street by an ornate metal fence. Really, it didn’t do much in the way of “cover,” but none of the people mulling about seemed interested in her. They were all too consumed with their work.

With a wry smile, she felt like she knew the feeling.

With little time before Planifcateur would noticee Chloe was gone, she waved a hand for them to join her. With his night vision, Chat had no problem spotting her, but even then it was hardly necessary. The square was plenty bright with the slightest peak of daylight starting to creep upon the horizon, enhanced by the many businesses that were open much earlier than appropriate for a Thursday morning.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Chat whispered as he fell into a crouch beside her, still holding Chloe bridal style with bound hands and feet, and his ears were drooping from stress.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth, but she was promptly interrupted.

“I mean, of course I’m fine, that stupid coordinator wouldn’t dare touch a hair on my head.” Chloe pointed her chin forward, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

Chat merely grimaced. “That brings up a good point, but we should get out of the streets. Come on,” he turned around and offered Marinette his back. “Piggy-back?”

“Pfft,” she chuckled but did not protest, awkwardly climbing astride his hips and locking her arms around his neck while doing her best not to touch Chloe at risk of Bourgeois cooties.

Impressively, Chat managed to get to a roof with only a little fumbling, using a few awnings and balconies to help along the way. Considering he was carrying two young women, the cat had kept his balanced impressively well.

“Okay,” he began once he deemed they were high enough and far enough from the hotel. “Tell me as much as you know.”

Marinette frowned when she slid from his back, watching him pull out his baton and try to call Ladybug. She had agreed to flee the streets with him because he would have insisted anyways, but that presented a different problem to her now. How was she supposed to get away from them?

Chloe, naturally, decided it prudent that she speak first. Chat set her down carefully and worked on her bonds while she explained her half the story.

“Well, I needed a status report of my reception orders, so I summoned the staff to give a full rundown in my room.”

“Why so early?” Marinette grumbled, feeling the ache of lost sleep weighing down her bagged eyes.

Chloe scoffed. “If you knew what kind of work went into planning something like this, Marinette, then you’d understand. I’ve been up before 5 AM everyday this week. Someone’s got to keep those oafs in line.”

It took most of her self-control not to laugh at that - like Chloe understood the first thing about real responsibility. Chat seemed to be taking in her explanation seriously, so Marinette did her best to maintain some semblance of composure.

“And the Planner was one of your employees, I take it?” Chat asked, sounding about as exasperated as she felt.

Chloe seemed a little irritated but accepted his hand when he offered to to help her stand.

“Yes. Madam Pomeroy. She’s my coordinator, and I just - I didn’t mean to make her so upset, but I was upset! I’ve got a lot of pressure on me for this to go well, okay?” The blonde crossed her arms and ducked her head, looking predictably petulant in a canary yellow set of sleepwear.

“So what did you do?” Marinette asked, not impolitely. She knew Chloe wasn’t always intentionally hurtful.

“I - well, she said we weren’t going to have enough food or flowers, and those are two of the most important things when trying to make a good impression. Potential donors could be attending the reception - not that you’d know that,” she sneered slightly at Marinette, but Chat stepped between them.

“And?” He prompted.

“And I said if she didn’t get it together, I would fire her by the end of the day,” Chloe finished flatly.

Before either of them could continue the increasingly derivative conversation, Marinette offered her two-cents, partially in an attempt to get away from Chat so she could transform.

“Well, I was on my balcony, because I couldn’t sleep and I was grabbed by her and brought to the hotel. When I got there, Madam Cesaire and the others hadn’t been… uh, hypnotized, I guess? She went on this spiel about how we wronged her, how it was our fault she failed,” Marinette paused to glare at Chloe. “But anyways, I think the whole hypnotized thing has to do with looking at your technology - phone, tablet, whatever. Anything that has a calendar, I think. And she can do it with her own tech, too - if she flashes the screen at you, you’ll become a ‘worker’ too.”

Marinette frowned, recalling when Planifcateur appeared behind her on her balcony, blocking the skylight. By some miracle, she had, by coincidence, brought her purse outside so she hadn’t been separated from Tikki, and when she tried to talk the woman down, Madam Pomeroy pulled out her tablet and tried to ensorcell her into the manacles of her mind-control, but the woman stopped abruptly. She could have sworn Hawkmoth was speaking with the woman for the way she muttered, but it wasn’t clear about what. Marinette used the chance to pretend she had been put under her spell anyways, so she might find out more about the woman’s plans…

It was scary when she got to the hotel, though. Unlike when Mme. Bustier had been akumatized, these wanderers were not exactly mindless - seeking the reprieve of kisses - but everyone was all but turned to robots. No emotion, no register of familiarity when she walked into the basement, nothing. The whole thing had been plain creepy.

Chat pursed his lips, taping his claws along one arm. “Got it. I need to go back, but I want you both to stay safe. Can you stay here?”

His request, she could tell, was mostly intended for her. It was sweet how Chat worried for her, but that wasn’t a promise she’d be able to keep.

“Uhh… sure,” she lied, shuffling her slippers along the gravely rooftop.

Chloe seemed less than enthused. “Ugh, fine, but I’m not staying out here. It’s gross and dirty.”

“Oh my ganache, just go Chat Noir. We’ll go through that door and hide in the building.” She gestured towards the rooftop entrance, presumably opening to a stairwell, while shoving the cat towards the edge of the building. At present, Marinette was thoroughly done wasting time with Chloe’s complaining.

He seemed a little reluctant, and he turned back to her at the ledge. To her surprise, Chat wrapped her in a hug, holding her tightly.

“Please be careful, Mari. Hide. She’ll come looking for you both.”

“I will, now go. Paris needs you, silly cat.” She tried to sound reassuring so he might leave with some confidence, and his ears perked slightly.

In a flash of black, her partner was leaping back to the hotel, so she made quick work of ditching Chloe.

“Let’s go,” she grumbled slightly, marching towards the door, Chloe grimacing but quiet in her compliance.

She indicated Chloe to go first, and promptly slammed the door once the blonde was inside.

“Oh no, there’s tech zombies climbing up the building!” Marinette cried in false fear. “Hide, Chloe, you’re the one they want! I’m sure Ladybug and Chat Noir will save the day…” She let her facade fade out, listening to the door. After a pause, the sound of clipped of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs.

Marinette touched a hand to her heart and breathed a large, heavy sigh of relief.

Before her lungs were emptied, Tikki was out of her bag, and her usually bubbly gaze was hardened by the familiar call of duty.

“Ready?” She said with a stern brow, and Marinette merely nodded.

“Tikki, spots on!”

Greeted by a rush of pink light, red spandex flowed outward from her earrings to her toes, from her heart to her hands, and with a relieved intake of breath, Ladybug stood, looking out over Paris.

Thankfully, Chat hadn’t taken them terribly far away from the scene so the heroine managed to make excellent time, swinging to the hotel in mere minutes.

Screaming welcomed her to the square. Angry, lurid shouting, and the shrieks intensified each time Chat bounced around the street, over cars, off of lamp posts, behind mail dropboxes. It was a little unnerving to see so many civilians milling about during a fight, but they weren’t really paying either party much mind. A mailman stooped over Chat Noir to work on the postal bin, which comically interrupted her partner’s personal space, but otherwise none of the diligent “workers” were involved.

“Where did you take her!?” Planifcateur howled, continually trying to catch Chat Noir’s gaze in the face of her tablet, her voice amplified unnaturally by the bluetooth at her ear like a microphone.

“Ugh.” Ladybug dropped down to the pavement, opting for a bold introduction to give Chat Noir a chance to regain his wits.

“Planifcateur! Stop this madness!”

A little smug, Ladybug noted the adored look Chat shot her when she appeared, but the reception from Planner was less than warming.

Releasing a maddened cackle, she pulled back her tablet and turned it instead on herself.

The device glowed a deep red under her touch, and began to vibrate violently like an alarm clock.

“Aghh,” Ladybug moved to cover her ears, the chime going off all around them, ringing sharply from the electronic devices held by every civilian who had fallen victim to her hypnotism. Chat had just leapt beside her, but he buckled under the sound, probably having it worse for his sensitive feline-hearing.

After a painful ten-seconds of mind-numbing buzzing, reverberations echoing down each Parisian street, all of the civilians halted their industrious tasks. Eyes burnt crimson, they turned in unison towards the pair of heroes across the length of street and began marching, faces wicked and twisted.

“Ahh, LB, I was starting to think you were leaving meow-t to fend for myself,” Chat sighed and stood properly, backing up slightly as the workers began to advance on them.

Ladybug scoffed and shook her head. “Is now really the time for that, Chat?”

“There’s never a bad time to lion the mood,” he said, shimmying his shoulders up against her. They stood back to back, yo-yo and baton ready respectively.

“That wasn’t even good,” she remarked, laughing despite her claim. “Let’s get to higher ground, shall we?”

Without further ado, Ladybug lassoed herself to the nearest awning, at least to free them of the encroaching crowd. Chat touched down beside her only a moment later, and he looked uncharacteristically severe.

“We can’t hurt civilians,” he noted, using his baton to gently nudge some of them down as they started to climb the sides of buildings. “So we should focus on Planifcateur… I think the akuma is in her main tablet, by the way.”

Humming her agreement, Ladybug narrowed her eyes while gazing over the crowded streets.

“Where did she go…?”

It was difficult to tell with the hordes of brainwashed, now hostile, people swarming the streets, but there was no clear sign of the akumatized victim anywhere. Had she gone back to the hotel, to seek cover and let the people of Paris do her dirty work?

Sounds a lot like Hawkmoth, Ladybug thought grimly.

“Marinette!” Chat blanched, looking sickly pale beneath the suit, and Ladybug had much the same reaction.

“W-What?! H-h-how did…” She stuttered, windpipe unable to process his claim. How did he know it was her? What had given her away?

“What?” Chat shook his head, running an anxious hand through his hair and bringing back his baton. “She must have gone after Marinette… er, mostly probably Chloe Bourgeois - uh, civilians, I rescued before you got here. She’s really furious with Chloe for threatening to fire her, and I don’t know, probably wants to throw her from the Eiffel Tower or something. Doesn’t it usually come to that?”

“Bite your tongue, chaton,” Ladybug laughed and nudged him, feeling gravity return to her temporarily suspended reality. He hadn’t been addressing her as Marinette, but rather, answering her question. “If she’s after Chloe, then there’s no time to waste.”

A quick flick of her wrist, and Ladybug had secured her yo-yo around a far away building antenna, propelling herself back the direction she came. Chat swung ahead of her, taking the lead.

Oh right. I’m not supposed to know where ‘Marinette’ is.

Acting a little aloof once they landed, Chat Noir’s ears were perked for any suspicious sounds.

“They’re inside.”

“Thanks, genius,” Ladybug strode over to the blasted open door, smirking.

Chat seemed too on edge to acknowledge her teasing. “How should we do this? Do we just try to corner her in the building, or should we lure her out? There’s at least two non-brainwashed people here, maybe away would be safer?”

“No, this will be the best use of time, I think. The civilians should be okay if they’re hidden, but right now the building should be empty of workers. If we bring her out, more people will inevitably get involved and make things complicated.”

Scrunching his nose, Chat reluctantly agreed and followed her down the stairs, both listening intently for any sounds that would give her away.

It didn’t take very long, only going down two floors when a blood-chilling scream came from a hallway. Chat wrapped his claws around the door handle, ready to leap onto the scene, but Ladybug stilled him with a hand.

“How about we make plan to fight the Planner, first?” She offered, and at that, Chat seemed to relax marginally. He seemed more stressed than usual, Ladybug noted, but assumed that was out of fear for ‘Marinette’. As her civilian self, the two had become good friends, so it was probably a little unnerving to not know if she was safe.

A guilty little pang went off in her stomach, but there wasn’t much to do about that now.

“Lucky Charm!”

Twirling her weapon with familiar intention, Ladybug scowled in concentration while the magic coursed through her fingertips, trailing out through the weapon in a quick flash of pink light.

“Keep Chloe safe, and I’ll...” A red-and-black polka-dotted plunger dropped into her hands. “Uh…”

For the first time all evening, Chat Noir laughed, and it was a sound that brought a smile to her lips. Familiar, reassuring, she didn’t realize how much she needed to hear it until he was covering his mouth to keep quiet, shaking with giggles in the cramped space of the stairwell.

“What in the name of cats are you going to do with that?” He managed through his snickering, and Ladybug felt herself flush a bit.

“I have absolutely no idea. But I’ll figure it out, we should go while we still can,” Ladybug nodded firmly, and Chat threw open the door.

The stairs opened to a long, almost cynical-looking hallway. Vague grey walls and rough charcoal carpeting stretched far and narrow into a series of doorways, lit by ineffective fluorescent bulbs. It was almost reminiscent of a hotel or a dingy apartment building, if not for one door, busted off the hinges and hanging obnoxiously out from the wall. It might have seemed the perfect setting for a horror movie.

That wasn’t exactly reassuring, and it was uncomfortably quiet. Still, with the grounding presence of her partner beside her, Ladybug did not fear.

She led the way down the hall, inanely holding the plunger like a sword, and they turned the corner expectantly.

It was quiet for a moment, a blue-tonal office with modern accents and sleek glass windows stretching across the far wall. One was smashed, with shards littering the floor in the pretty warm reflection of the sunrise. Through it, a breeze carried with it sinister words.

“Now Mme. Bourgeious,” rang a toxic voice from outside. “You will see what it’s like to work hard for once in your life! I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

“Let’s go,” Ladybug said, voice quiet and severe, and carefully stepped over the glass and out the window.

It opened to a very thin terrace that wrapped along the building, and standing on a lift used for window cleaning, the Planner was poised with a shaking blonde gripped by two burly men on each arm. Presumably, they had been the cleaners occupying the lift before it got a little more crowded, and their eyes had the same glazed-over, empty white stare that the civilians had at street-level.

Without hesitating, Ladybug leapt to the lift and stood on the railing, gripping the suspension wires to steady herself. The whole platform began to shake and sway lazily, at least thirteen stories from the streets below, earning another hair-raising shriek from Chloe.

“End of the line, Planifcateur. Let Chloe go!” She declared, fearless despite the uneven footing.

The red-suited woman laughed and thumbed through her tablet, musing. “I’ll see if I can pencil that in - I think I might be able to, if you hand over your miraculous.”

She could feel her partner’s presence on the terrace just behind her, and he mewled an ever-Chat-like response. “While your checking your schedule, think you could work in a quick fight?”

Before her goaded response came, Chat’s baton flickered through the opening at their feet - Ladybug, still perched on the railing of the lift, was untouched - and swept it over four sets of feet, sending them all sprawling.

Seizing her chance, Ladybug dropped down and threw Chloe over her shoulder, not even bothering to check her aim, and she heard the girl plop safely into Chat’s arms.

A hand wrenched her down a moment later, and the Planifcateur was furiously irate, her tablet turned hypnotic white once again. She tried to turn it the heroine’s face, but Ladybug closed her eyes and struggled against the hands of the workers.

While the chaos of too many hands and too many voices struggled in the swinging lift, it was the instability of the whole circus act that had her worried. Even as Ladybug, she nor her three attacks would be much good against a thirteen story drop into cement, and the listless swaying of thin wires, strained by what surely exceeded the weight capacity of the metal lift, was enough to make anyone’s stomach turn ill.

In the chaos, they wrenched the plunger from her hands, and stripped her of her yo-yo. Restrained, Ladybug struggled while another hand moved to her face.

Her earrings beeped.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to live by a routine, sweet Ladybug?” Planifcateur lulled over her, and Ladybug flinched away as someone tried to pry open her eyes. “You would never be late, never disappoint anyone, never step out of line. Imagine how much easier it could be. The weight of the Paris, no longer on your shoulders!”

“Ghhhhh,” she growled, lips pressed together in her struggle. The hand came back again, and seeing no other way, Ladybug promptly bit the fingers that inched nearer to her mask.

“Yaow!” She heard, rather than saw, Planifcateur flinch backwards, followed promptly by a disturbing, squishing, sucking, suctioning sound.

Chat Noir’s voice entered the mix. “Got’cha! Usually LB handles this but…”

Ladybug’s eyes fluttered open in time with the second beep of her earrings, somewhat in surprise but mostly emboldened by the sound of her partner’s confident voice, peering down the length of her body best she could. Chat was perched on his baton, suspended from a notch in the buildings edge, and in his hands he had the plunger, with the Planner’s tablet suctioned to the end of it, and her yo-yo clasped in the other.

Looking much the cat who swallowed the canary, he smacked the tablet into the side of the building, and the front of it shattered with a satisfying crunch.

“No!” Planner screamed, reaching uselessly over the ledge at her broken eletronic. Ladybug felt the hands that gripped her to the floor of the lift loosen, and she watched the men blink away the clouds of white that distorted their vision.

“Heads up!” Chat yelled, tossing her weapon over the lift, and she easily snatched it in her fingers. The moment the weapon was returned to her grasp, a familiar mixture of duty and power rushed through her veins.

Flipping dexterously over Planifcateur’s head, Ladybug landed back on the ledge, grabbed the plunger from Chat’s outstretched hand, and quickly cleansed the akuma before it fluttered off.

“Bye, bye, little butterfly,” she waved with a comfortable sigh. As Madam Pomeroy shook her head in confusion, Ladybug tossed the plunger high into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Sure as the sunrise that finally brightened the Parisian skyline, all returned to normal, workers halted abruptly in their erroneous responsibilities, the lift, the men, and Madam Pomeroy all materialized back inside the building, glass now repaired, and Chat turned to her with an award-winning smile.

“Pound it!” They declared another victory in unison, and Ladybug’s earrings blinked for the second time.

“Ah, gotta bug out,” she said swiftly, preparing to swing off. “Til next time, chaton!”

Quick as the wind, Ladybug bolted from the scene, the air whipping her fringe from her face. Once the hustle-and-bustle of the akuma attack was out of earshot, she found an alley in time with the fourth and final beep before she lost her transformation.

“Tikki, spots off.” Ladybug exhaled with a strained sense of relief. In her place, Marinette leaned against the bricks in the damp alleyway, catching a spent kwami in her cupped hands.

“Great work, Tikki,” she declared with a tired smile, and her kwami returned the gesture.

“If you feel up for it, you might want to head back to that building,” Tikki suggested with a tiny yawn. “Chat Noir might be worried about you-you.”

“Oh, right,” she hastily opened her bag. “Okay, in you go. Sorry I don’t have any cookies, I’ll stop somewhere on the way home.”

“Thank you,” Tikki blinked blearily up at her charge, and Marinette gave her a little nuzzle with her finger before shutting the bag.

At a light jog, Marinette wound around a few blocks and caught sight of the building, now surrounded by the predictable bustle of police cars and emergency vehicles. News cameras were everywhere, the mayor was making a statement with Chloe tucked safely under his arm, and there was no Chat Noir to be seen.

That brought a worried frown to her lips, and Marinette tried to approach the entrance.

“Whoa, whoa, sorry miss,” claimed a familiar security officer. It was Monsieur Raincomprix. “Can’t go in here; it’s a crime scene at the moment.”

She grimaced. “Oh, c’mon, Ladybug fixed everything - there’s no danger in there!”

“Just standard procedure,” he stated with a set jaw. “Please, stand as--”

“Marinette!” The voice came from above, and Monsieur Raincomprix looked up with enough time to shield himself reflexively.

Not that Chat Noir was going to hit the man, necessarily, but the hero certainly did loom a little protectively over her when he landed beside them.

Swiftly, he made to hug her, but spotted the press scurrying over to them immediately. Chat bowed instead.

“It looks like I showed up just in time, we wouldn’t want you knocking out two grown men in one morning, would we?” Chat wore a cheeky smile, but he lowered his voice. “Don’t go scaring me like that, Princess. I was so worried when I couldn’t find you.”

Marinette raised her brows high along her head, biting her tongue to keep from smiling. “I didn’t take you for a scaredy cat.”

He sighed dreamily. “Oh Mari, if you ever tire of that Agreste guy, please, call me.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t hold your breath, minou,” she stuck out her tongue, and they both shared a quick laugh before Chat was entirely engulfed by the cameras. Marinette managed to catch Alya’s Ladyblogger eye and waved, walking off before anyone could question her.

By the time she reoriented herself, Marinette was on the outskirts of the din, near the the medical vehicles. Most victims of Hawkmoth’s cruelty at least suffered from shock, if not some variety of stress-induced anxiety, after being akumatized, so the EMTs usually came prepared with heart monitors and some sort of mouth tube that was supposed to help regulate breathing.

A lone Madam Pomeroy sat in the back of an ambulance, doors open wide and legs dangling over the edge, breathing steadily into the breathing apparatus. One man and one woman in uniforms stood nearby, the former filing some sort of report while the other chatted with Mayor Bourgeois over Chloe’s well-being.

“Hey there,” Marinette greeted, hesitantly smiling at the woman. Her gaze flickered up at her, then away, laden by guilt.

Frowning, the teen moved a little closer, bowing her head. “I just, um… I wanted to apologize. About the other day.”

That decidedly got her attention, and Madam Pomeroy’s eyes went wide behind her glittery glasses. Marinette squinted when they caught the light, but continued.

“I didn’t know how important the flowers were to your plans, and I’m sorry that it caused you so much grief. I was a little unfair because I knew you worked for the hotel and…” She wrinkled her nose, shooting a glance over towards the Bourgeoises. “I guess I wasn’t being a very good business person. So, I’m sorry.”

The woman looked decidedly dumbstruck by Marinette’s self-admonishment, and her breathing regulator seemed even more necessary.

“If you’re still looking for the flowers, though, I’d be happy to try to make it up to you. If you’d still like to do business, that is - I probably can’t do all seventy orders, but I’d be glad to pitch in.”

“I… ” Madam Pomeroy lowered the balloon from her lips, eyes darkened with shame. “You are very kind, Mme. I’m the one who should be sorry; I let me stress get the best of me, and then I just snapped and…”

Marinette held up a hand, wearing her warmest smile. “That’s okay. Anyone could be a villain on their worst days - the important thing is breaking the cycle. So…” she dug in her purse, and Tikki gave her an encouraging little nod. The girl handed Madam Pomeroy a business card, but only after scribbling her personal number on the back.

“Call anytime, or text me. My cell’s on the other side, and we’ll do our best to fulfill the orders. Okay?”

The woman accepted with a quizzical look, but her expressions eventually turned to one of gratitude.

“Well… thank you,” she paused, squinting at her name on the back, written above her mobile number. “Marinette.”

Bowing and starting in the other direction, she bid the woman farewell. “You’re welcome. Take care, and don’t work too hard!”

Turning the corner from the early-morning madness, she released a low sigh and gazed at the blue skies beginning to peak out through the stained sunrise. It was probably already 7, she guessed, and it would probably be a loss to actually stop to get Tikki food rather than just heading home. Her kwami was undoubtedly tired, but the time it would take to find a shop that was up-and-running properly after the confusion of the akuma would take longer than just returning to the comfort of the bakery. Besides, she knew Tikki preferred sugar of the non-processed variety when possible, so Papa’s cookies seemed a better option anyways.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t very near to home. It would be quickest to wait for a bus, if things had totally returned to normal operating procedures, but that was hindered by the same problem that came from the shops along the drag. It wasn’t clear if the buses would run on schedule, so Marinette opted to walk instead, only a tad self-conscious to be strolling down the street in her pajamas; it was like the mayor declared Dress-Down Thursday, for almost everyone was in the same disheveled, bed-headed, bagged-eyed state that she was in.

The worries over her trek back to the bakery turned out to be for naught, interrupted by a voice by the time she reached the end of the block.

“Mari! Wait up!”

She faltered, surprised by the trill that danced up her spine, and spun on the spot.

“Adrien?” Marinette sounded bemused, not as embarrassed as she should have been. It’s not like this was the first time he’d seen her in pajamas, recalling when they were running from Gorillaz. Compared to last time, her hair might not have been brushed, but she also wasn’t wearing a ridiculous disguise, so she was already a leg-up. “What are you -- oh!”

The blond caught up to her and almost knocked her over with the force of his hug, wrapping her so tightly in his arms that it felt like the wind had been forced from her lungs. Then again, Marinette was almost always breathless around him anyways.

“A-Adrien, what’s going on? What are you doing out here?” She squeezed back, reveling in his warmth, partially surprised but mostly overjoyed to see him. Honestly, she should have been more concerned about the fact that they were very publicly embracing in the middle of a Parisian sidewalk in their pajamas, but his pounding heart and haggard, but notably relieved, breathing was more invigorating a way to wake-up than any cup of coffee.

Stepping apart, his hands moved to her face, one brushing a bit of her hair away and the other holding her cheek. Marinette felt her skin redden under his touch.

“Oh, um… yeah, I guess, the same thing as you?” He grinned, wide and silly, gesturing towards his unusually casual clothing. A simple black t-shirt paired with full-length bottoms made of light, breathable cotton, the blue and gray pinstripes only made him look impossibly taller. “I, uh, guess I was ‘working on’ something. Maybe modeling? I don’t know, I just remember ‘coming to’ and the Ladyblog said that you were one of the primary people targeted by the akuma. I can’t believe I managed to find you after all of that, geez, I was so worried,” he shook his head and chuckled, the sound making her knees wobble.

Beaming, Marinette moved her hand to his, still cupping her furiously red face. “Thank you, I’m sorry you worried. I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

His attention moved to her fingers, resting over his own, and he raised a brow.

“What happened here?” Adrien took her hand in his, examining her bruised knuckles with amusement. “Did you hurt yourself during the attack?”

“...Ahh,” Marinette averted her eyes, very aware that he was holding her hand very close to his lips. “Hah, haha, yeah, sort of. I might have… punched someone…?”

At that, his smile was so bright, dimpled and brilliant, Marinette couldn’t help but turn bashful and draw her hand back.

“It’s not like I wanted to! I had to - it was this whole thing with Chloe and Chat Noir… ugh, believe me, it’s not that interesting of a story.” She ran a hand down her face, not particularly proud of the fact that she flattened a grown man in front of them, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice at the time.

“Please, Mari, tell me everything. I’ll walk you home?” He took her arm and began down the sidewalk, hardly giving her time to process before they were on their way. Marinette had half-a-mind to ask if he’d had coffee this morning for how animated he was, but that was impossible given the context.

“W-wait, what about your schedule? Won’t Nathalie be upset?”

At that, Adrien paused and pursed his lips. They were still at the end of the block, and to their immediate left was an obnoxious round sign for the most recent Gabriel line, with his face plastered directly in the center. Beside it, there was a trash can, and Adrien promptly walked over and dropped his phone into it.

Marinette balked, and he just gave a little shrug. “Oops. Guess it was lost during the akuma attack.”

He caught her eye and shot her a silly wink, so she shook her head and fought a smile.

Shyly, she mumbled, “W-well, okay,” and Adrien resumed guiding her home.

Well, he was supposed to be watching where they were going, but he had eyes only for her, laughing along to her story, each chuckle pellucid like a soft soprano. That she had so captivated his attention was making her increasingly bouncy, adding ferverant details to the night’s antics as they went down the sidewalks, talking probably too loud to hear herself over her thundering heartbeat. It seemed so loud, Marinette was certain he could hear it too.

At a comfortable pace, she recounted everything that happened up until shoving Chloe through the door at the top of the building and turning into Ladybug, and Adrien was full of questions the whole way. What did she think of Chat Noir? Why did she think she didn’t get ‘hypnotized’? Where did the woman gather them? Each time, Marinette did her best to be honest and laugh and smile along with him, a little dazed that all of this was happening. The lack of sleep, rush of morning adrenaline from her superhero duties, and final comfortable lull of being walked home by Adrien, Adrien Agreste, Adrien her boyfriend… It was a little too much.

She always imagined the first time she woke up at the crack of dawn with Adrien beside her, both in pajamas, might not have been quite like this. (Her imagination usually included, um, fewer clothes.) Still, having this time to just talk with him early in the morning, both tired and almost slap-happy from a restless night, was better than she could have ever asked for. It was special and strangely intimate, though the streets were still full of confused people trying to return to their normal lives.

As they neared the school, the bakery just coming into view, a few young women and a pair of men stopped them.

“O-oh my god! Are you Adrien Agreste?” A redhead gushed, her friends seeming embarrassed but curious. The men were almost more excited than the the first girl, and Marinette could tell they both were wearing similar pajamas to the boy at her arm - presumably, Gabriel brand.

Adrien chuckled and scratched his neck, stopping so as not to be rude. “Uh, heh, yep.”

“Oh my - wow! Wow, I’m a huge fan,” one of the men said. She suspected he was also of some Asian descent, but his skin tone and eye shape suggested south-eastern Asia - maybe Vietnamese?

“Me, too. This is unreal!” The redhead was almost bouncing, and Marinette did her best not to interrupt. She slipped her arm out of Adrien’s and took a tiny step back, letting his fans have their moment.

“Could we, er, get a selfie with you? Please?! It would mean so much to me!” The girl asked, and at that, her friends no longer seemed ashamed. They all more-or-less layered on the request, with plentiful please’s, sounding just about pitiful.

Frowning, Adrien glanced towards her way. Marinette offered him a timid smile and nodded for him to go ahead.

“Well… sure, yeah. No problem.” Adrien adopted his familiar “model face,” and seeing it now actually made her feel a little sad. It wasn’t the Chesire, goofy grin she’d come to expect from him anymore. It was just small and a little too perfect to be right.

“Agh, there’s too many of us! Justin, back up - ”

“Stop it Danya,” another shoved slightly, and Adrien looked increasingly uncomfortable as the friends argued, trying to all squeeze into frame.

Marinette pursed her lips and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I can take the picture for you.”

The gaggle seemed surprised but certainly pleased, and one of them handed her an iPhone. Adrien smiled gratefully, and Marinette quickly snapped a few photos.

“There,” she passed back the phone, all of them looking over shoulders to get a better view.

“Aw man, my eyes were closed in that one - oh, but that’s good,”

“Thank you again, Monsieur Agreste!”

“Yes, thank you!”

“Take care, Monsieur Adrien,” the redhead said with a rather suggestive wink, and Marinette sucked her teeth a little irritably. The girl reminded her too much of Lila for it not to leave a bitter taste in her mouth, but she tried to remind herself of her own advice to Madam Pomeroy not an hour earlier.

The important thing is breaking the cycle.

Adrien and Marinette quickly sped off after that, neither speaking for a few awkward seconds while they distanced themselves from the group.

“Sorry,” he blurted suddenly, eyes on the pavement. They were passing the school, so the bakery was only a few dozen steps away.

Marinette slowed her pace. “Why are you sorry?”

“That - they, er, I didn’t mean to interrupt your story. And then that girl at the end…” His lips twisted down, and the ebony-haired girl stopped and squeezed his arm.

Feeling unusually gutsy, Marinette cleared her throat and met his gaze seriously. “Don’t say that - they were just excited to see you. I know I would be, if I wasn’t lucky enough to be here with you myself. And...” she touched a finger to his lips, as if silencing him. “You’re too cute to frown. Smile?”

Without telling twice, he did as she bid, and Marinette could feel his breath exhale onto her finger as his lips parted into the smile that she loved.

He interrupted her quiet admiration with a gentle kiss against her finger. “Thanks. You’re pretty cute yourself, especially with bedhead.”

Now it was Marinette’s turn to frown, but it was tough to keep the smirk from returning. “Gee, thanks.”

“I was serious!” He said, falling back into stride towards her house.

The girl could only chuckle and shake her head, though her laughter quickly faded when she spotted her parents in the front window.

“Ah… Maman and Papa were probably worried sick…”

“I don’t blame them,” he admitted, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I was nearly worried sick myself.”

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “I feel bad about all of this.”

Adrien sighed slowly, coming up to the front door and stopping momentarily. “Don’t be. You’re just precious to them, and to me.”

Without a care that her mother and father were watching, not even ten feet away and separated only by glass, he leaned down and brought their lips together, slow and soft, and Marinette felt herself sigh into him, lavishing the warmth that flowed through him. It was brief, a ray of sunshine through the cloudy skies, but she wondered if he could taste the love on her lips, the feelings she tried so desperately to share each time their noses bumped, each inhale of him she was granted like a gift from above.

Breathless, they pulled apart, and Marinette’s body felt strained from his absence. Just a moment of his closeness was enough to addict her to the sensation, and if not for her mother’s staring, she might have just ravaged his lips again right then and there.

Instead, the girl flickered her attention toward the bakery and tried to appear shy for the sake of her mother, but the woman didn’t seemed interested in modesty. Instead, her mother was smiling, nodding, and giving her the largest thumbs-up she’d ever seen.

“Uggggggggggh,” Marinette dropped her head, and Adrien laughed when he realized why. He gave her mother a thumbs-up in return, and Marinette nearly shoved him.

Instead, resigned, she invited him inside.

“G’morning,” Marinette yawned as she pushed open the bakery door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The smell of leavened bread and saccharine sweets soothed her exasperation almost immediately, attuning her senses to feelings of home. More than setting off pangs of hunger in her stomach, she felt the long night catch up to her, and her body begged for sleep.

“Oh honey,” her mother replied, coming to the door to greet them and swiftly wrapping her daughter in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m sorry you got pulled into the chaos too, Adrien. We’re all sort of a mess, aren’t we?”

After giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek, Sabine took a step back and gestured towards her wrap-style pajamas, reminiscent of a cheongsam, covered by one her many aprons.

Adrien smiled politely. “Oh, I’m just glad Marinette’s okay. This is probably the first time I’ve ever been out of the house in my pajamas. It’s sort of fun, isn’t it?”

“Fun isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” Marinette commented quietly, shooting him a good-humored grimace. “But did you want to stay and have breakfast? You’re here in your pajamas, it almost seems necessary.”

“That’s an excellent idea, but” her mother frowned, tapping her chin. “Our whole day is sort of thrown off with this akuma business, so we’re running behind on everything. Maybe you’d rather go out to that cafe around the corner?”

Her mother sent them both a not-so-subtle wink.

“Oh,” Adrien’s fingers fumbled between them, seeking her hand, so she helped him find it with electric fingers. “Well, if you’re sure, I would love that. How about it, Mari? My treat, pun-intended, of course.”

Her father piped up from the back, and Marinette could hear the sound of the oven opening; he must be working on the morning loaves. “Thatta boy! I knew I had a good feeling about this one, Mari!”

Chagrined, Marinette buried her face into Adrien’s arm, twisting to still hold his hand. “Papa…”

Her mother and that stupid head of blond hair seemed amused by her displeasure, sharing a hearty bout of laughter, but all of her irritation vanished when she felt a soft kiss against the top of her head.

Rebooting from her short-circuited system, Marinette quickly bid her parents goodbye (snatching a few day-old cookies and shoving them in her bag for Tikki) and began dragging Adrien down the street, back into the refreshing Paris air.

“They’re unbelievable, I swear. Sorry.” She avoiding his eyes, too embarrassed by the way they acted to do much else.

Adrien gave her fingers a squeeze. “That’s okay. Now you know how I felt yesterday at dinner.”

Scrunching her nose, Marinette couldn’t argue with that, but her pink cheeks did not fade until they made it to the cafe.

“So why’d your parents recommend this place?” He gazed at the sign. “Hang-Over-Easy? Oh my god, it’s a… a pun. This is the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.”

She snorted and led him inside. “Well, they’re a twenty-four hour place, bar by night and breakfast by day. Maman probably figured the akuma wouldn’t mess with their routine.”

Adrien hummed a response, more concerned with his study of the eclectic bar-but-sort-of-cafe. The walls were bright yellow and boldly outlined in black, each surface decorated with varying degrees of egg-themed paraphernalia. It seemed especially funny juxtaposed beside the bar, stocked as it was with plenty of alcohol - after an early morning akuma attack, there were already a few patrons sipping on drinks.

Marinette left him to it for a moment, trying to catch the eye of the hostess.

“Um, a two-person table, please.”

The woman nodded. “Inside or out?”

“Oh,” she frowned, and turned to Adrien. “Do you have a preference?”

Blond locks shook across his forehead, so perfectly messy that it really wasn’t fair.

Swallowing her urge to shower him with a hundred kisses, Marinette sent a strained smile to the hostess. “Outside, please.”

They were led to a table, and it was certainly a treat to see everyone in Paris walking around in their early-morning wares (aside from the occasional person who had bothered to change - Adrien and Marinette agreed that those people were ‘no fun’). It seemed like most citizens were considering a productive day’s work to be a loss, and Marinette was feeling a little indulgent herself. How nice it would be to just skip out on the shop today, to spend the whole day lazing around with Adrien like this…

“Oh, Mari,” he sat up a little excitedly. “What’re these?”

“Hmm?” She blinked, following his gaze to a modest plant in the center of the little table. Bushy like a shrub, she frowned down at the yellow planter.

The flowers were tiny and few, radiant white against the deep green foilage. The small petals crossed over one another, sort of twisted to resemble a miniature vortex.

“I’m… I’m actually not sure. Maybe a Pinwheel Flower? They go by a dozen different names though - East Indian Rosebay, Coffee Rose, Crepe Gardenia... ”

Before Adrien had the chance to comment, their waiter appeared. A large, grizzly man with a kind smile and bushy gray beard, his nameplate read “Jean.”

“How’re you folks doing today?” He greeted warmly, not bothering with a pad and pen.

Adrien flashed a smile, and Marinette was pretty sure her heart stopped beating. “Absolutely great, thank you. I’ll have a coffee, please.”

“T-t-Two.” Marinette stuttered when their attention turned towards her. She felt dimwitted, forgetting herself so easily. Maybe she should have asked the EMTs for one of those breathing apparatuses they had given Madam Pomeroy.

“Cream or sugar?”

“Both please, and do you have crepes?” Adrien asked, and the man nodded. “Let’s get two of those, as well. Whatever flavor you recommend.”

Raising a brow, Marinette licked her dry lips as Jean walked away. “I thought you didn’t drink coffee?”

His cheer was irresistible, and he wore a lopsided smile. “I’ve taken a liking to it lately. And, if this is a Coffee Rose... or ‘Crepe Gardenia’, or whatever,” he pointed at the flower on the table. “I just thought, when are we ever going to get to have breakfast with a flower literally named after breakfast foods? I thought it might just be fate.”

“Fate,” she repeated, testing the word on her tongue before turning a reserved shade of pink. “I guess... it might be.”

Somehow, after years of falling for Adrien, and more than a few times actually falling over Adrien, things were finally, finally falling into place. He seemed almost as giddy around her as she him… just, with better coordination and manners. The curse that had rooted her Summer break to a halt, the job that had sentenced her to hard labor for crimes she didn’t commit, seemed to have been forgiving after all.

Marinette had him, all to herself (to Nino’s chagrin, if yesterday’s texts were any indication).

He and Alya had been instrumental to this, too, and she was abundantly thankful to her friends. Their patience with her and persistence with him had finally made sense of a stupidly confusing puzzle, sorting through the mess to find the corner pieces and wait for them to fill in the middle.

Adrien leaned forward a bit across the table. “Marinette? Are you okay?”

She would never tire of the way her name sounded from his lips. It only made her heart thump harder against her ribs.

“Yep. Just trying to remember the lore to these… I don’t remember much, since Mo never grew them. All I really remember is they’re nocturnal.”

“Nocturnal?” Adrien blinked, brow furrowing over the pot.

“Sort of. That type of flower - apocynaceae - bloom brightest during the night, and they’re supposed to smell really lovely. The sun drains them, and they don’t do super well during those hours. It might be early enough that you can still smell them... I guess it makes sense to have at a 24/7 place,” she mused, looking around the open-style patio that led into the bar.

Adrien, cued by her explanation, leaned forward and inhaled a few inches above the buds.

“Oh wow,” he remarked with a dreamy smile. “These do smell really great. C’mhere.”

Her hand had been resting on the table, and he gently tugged it forward so she would come nearer. The sudden proximity, divided simply by a small flower, made her blush even harder.

She caught his eye, and neither of them seemed at all interest in their conversation anymore.

“You’re pretty,” he said, quiet and sincere. Marinette’s lashes fluttered when his breath danced across her cheeks.

“And you’re silly,” she murmured with a teasing smirk.

Adrien squinted at her, and he looked about to say something when Jean reappeared with their coffee.

“Alright two cups -- whoa, sorry, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything!” He chuckled when they both flew apart, the sound a little uncomfortable.

Marinette, probably three octaves too high, answered. “Nope! Just fine thanks!”

The waiter left them their drinks and swiftly disappeared, the whole time Adrien fighting off waves of laughter.

“What?” She demanded, reaching for the cream.

Green eyes appraising her, he merely shook his head. “I just can’t believe you can go from fearlessly knocking someone out with your bare fist to being so cute and blushy like that. I can’t believe I get to date you.”

Marinette spilled some cream on her lap, startled as she was by his statement, and he didn’t let up while passing her a napkin.

“And not to mention how you are adorably clumsy. Gosh, you’re something, Mari.”

At that moment, she was definitely something reminiscent of a young Parisian woman, having breakfast in her pajamas, melted into a puddle of adoration and nerves. She was something, alright, something totally overcome with how in love she was with this boy.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculers #miraculous #miraculous fanfic #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #marinette dupen-chang #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien x marinette #chat noir x marinette #marichat #adrinette #adrienette kiss #adrienette #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #flowershop au

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ficdirectory · 6 years ago

Text

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 30

(To listen, click here) - 13:42

“He came home when?” Pearl asks, incredulous, sitting on Frank’s porch with Jesus.

“About 4 AM. I heard him come in,” Jesus passed along, looking concerned.

“I hope you weren’t up all night,” she says.

“No, but I’m pretty tuned into when the door opens. Dominique waited up, though. So, he wasn’t alone when he came in.”

“Seriously, Jesus, should I be worried here? Is there something I should know about Levi?”

“Talk to him. If you wanna know, you need to talk to him. You can’t go behind his back.”

“He legitimately has a 3-9:45 shift today,” she shares - a non sequitur.

Jesus spots her shaking hands. She doesn’t bother hiding them anymore. “You don’t like when he works late?”

“No...I mean, I don’t. But that was the same shift I had when…” she ventures. “And it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough. It happened on a Saturday night through Sunday. This year, it falls on a weekend, too, so…” Pearl sips hot tea from her travel mug.

Jesus grimaces. “Hate when it does that.”

“I know,” she nods. “And I know it isn’t rational...but like...rationality doesn’t really matter when it comes to this. I can’t help but imagining the same thing happening to him. And if it did… I could never forgive myself, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I worry about Francesca the same way,” Jesus sympathizes.

“But I think Dominique’s planning to go into town with him when he goes to work. Stick close. You know? Might give you peace of mind.”

“Why would she do that?” Pearl asks.

“I mean...they’re friends. Dominique cares about him. She knows he’s had a hard time. I think she just wants him to know he has a friend nearby. If he needs one.”

Pearl expels a breath. “Yeah, that does help. Confession: my mother has been blowing up my phone, as the kids say.”

Jesus looks sidelong at her. “I don’t think the kids say that anymore…” he jokes. “But...wait. What? I thought you told her to beat it.”

“I did.” Pearl maintains.

“She can’t take a hint, or…” Jesus asks.

“Basically.” Pearl nods. “I haven’t told Levi, because he’s been so stressed. And he’s been over here, so he hasn’t needed to worry about it.”

“What’s she want?” Jesus asks.

“Oh, just to make me feel guilty about my life choices. To make this weekend all about her. Take your pick.”

Jesus grimaces. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. And this weekend is about you. She’s messing with your head. Trust me, I know what that looks like.”

“You think she’s like, manipulating me?” Pearl wonders, surprised.

“Well, I don’t think she’s loving you. I’ll put it like that,” Jesus mutters darkly.

Pearl’s mouth falls open. “Wow. Okay.”

“Sorry. If that was, you know, too harsh or whatever.” Jesus apologizes.

“No, I need Jesus levels of bluntness in my life right now,” Pearl insists.

There’s silence. There’s a squirrel in the yard Dudley really wants to chase. But Cleo scares it away with her goofy bark.

“So, what do you wanna do this weekend? Like, how do you wanna handle it?” Jesus asks. “I get that there’s not a lot of lead time. But it helps me going into days like these to kinda have a plan. To know what I want to happen. What I don’t. What do you usually do?”

“Sleep,” Pearl shares unceremoniously, stroking Cleo. Their time walking the dogs together has to be some of Pearl’s favorite. But this morning they’d saved all the major conversation for afterward.

“Do you wanna sleep this weekend?” Jesus wonders, no judgment.

“No, I wanna hang out with you guys. I just...don’t know how I’ll be… If someone brings it up, or whatever…” Pearl worries.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you thinking we don’t care. Just that...I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t want people in my family to bring it up on hard days. Sometimes I do, but just like, peripherally. I don’t like a big deal made.”

“What are you asking?” Pearl tries.

“Do you think you’ll wanna discuss it? Like, should we check in with you?” Jesus clarifies.

“I have no idea. No one has ever asked me that. No one’s ever been here with me through it, except when it happened, and even then, Mom didn’t know it happened. I didn’t tell her for like a week…”

“Dude…” Jesus breathes.

“Yeah, I know, right? Brutal.” Pearl tells him.

“It is.” Jesus nods.

“I think I’ll want to know people remember it’s a hard weekend?” Pearl ventures. “Check in with me, but not too directly?”

“Like, ‘How you doin’ with that?’” Jesus asks.

“Kind of, I guess.” Pearl makes a face. “Don’t make a massive deal but don’t forget me?”

“Done. Hey, and maybe leave your phone on silent or something?” he asks. “Just so you don’t have your mom bugging?”

“Right,” Pearl nods. “Do you think Levi’s gonna be okay tonight? Like, can I stay close around here so if I need you or Mariana to talk me off a ledge about him, you can?”

“Totally, yeah,” Jesus nods.

“And…” Pearl hesitates. “Can we do Feelings Laundry again? We missed yesterday and...I can tell. I think I need it. Especially this weekend. But if Levi and Dominique are gonna be gone tonight, then I’m not sure how it’ll--”

Cleo’s licking her now. Pearl barely feels it.

“Pause,” Jesus interjects gently. “Get your breath.”

Pearl breathes, albeit shakily. She feels ridiculous. “I should have known, every time I start to ramble, that’s a bad sign. Like, come on, Pearl, gather yourself. This isn’t a big deal, Why are you making it one?”

“Pearl,” Jesus interjects softly.

She meets his gaze. He just stares back, quiet. For a whole minute. When he finally does speak, his words surprise her:

“This is a really big deal. And it makes a lot of sense that you’re struggling right now. I know you mentioned Feelings Laundry…. Hey, are you breathing? Don’t hold your breath. Breathe. Can you?”

“Just in…” Pearl manages.

“You okay if I talk to you about candles?” he asks, throwing her for a loop again.

“What?” she asks.

“I mean, they don’t trigger you or anything, do they?” Jesus persists.

“No. They’re fine,” she says, breathless.

“So, imagine there’s a candle. Or...a cake with lots of candles… Like your birthday cake…”

“Very funny…” Pearl gasps.

“You need a good breath to blow out those candles. So, when you’re ready...just take a deep breath and blow them out. You might need to do it a few times…”

“For Levi, too…” Pearl manages.

“What? Wait, you guys...have the same birthday?” Jesus asks, incredulous.

Pearl nods, finally drawing in a deep breath.

“Okay, so you’ll need some for your candles and some for his, ‘cause he’s still sleeping...and the cake’s invisible,” Jesus coaches.

Pearl highly doubts that pretending to blow out candles on a cake is going to help anything. She tries. It’s harsh. Sudden. Not calm.

“So, long and slow. You gotta get to all the candles and Levi’s cake is back here,” Jesus gestures vaguely.

After forever, it seems like Pearl can breathe again. “Sorry, I’m such a mess.”

Jesus smiles a little. “Messy is okay,” he says. “So, you asked about Feelings Laundry. And including Levi and Dominique. What do you think about asking everybody if they wanna have it after lunch today instead of after dinner? So we all can be there.”

“Yeah,” Pearl nods. “You are pretty incredible,” she tells him.

“Well, I have this pretty amazing role model who I’ve looked up to for years,” Jesus says.

“Oh, please. I’m hideous.”

“You need to change that inner dialogue…” Jesus encourages. “I think you mean, reasonably upset given the circumstances…and an amazing role model.”

“Stop,” she insists, laughing a little.

“Okay.” Just like that, Jesus does. It doesn’t matter that she’s laughing. That she meant it lightly.

Jesus listened.

He always listens.

Francesca wakes up and finds Jesus not in the fort. For a second, she feels like crying. She can’t keep having her friends and her brother just disappearing. She puts her blanket around her and creeps out of the fort. To the window.

Luckily, she sees Jesus out there with Pearl, talking. It makes her feel an inch better. But still. Levi. She went to sleep last night and he wasn’t home. After spending the day with her and then coming home, he was just gone.

It was scary.

Mariana and Dominique’s door is closed. Francesca approaches the big staircase and decides to crawl up it. No one is here to see and make fun of her. And she can always go down on her butt later.

She makes it all the way up, to the loft and then scurries to the far side by the bookshelf, as far away from the stairs as possible. She remembers the rule about bedrooms and is too nervous to knock and see if Levi answers, but she sits in the chair and waits.

She falls asleep waiting.

When the door creaks, Francesca jump-scares herself awake. Levi jumps, too. He looks different.

Francesca gets up and walks to him. Stands in front of him. He bends down and she can’t help it. She throws her arms around him, biting her lip to keep her tears in, but it doesn’t even help and soon she’s sobbing like a baby. (But quietly because people are sleeping, plus Jesus’s trauma doesn’t like loud crying.)

“Whoa. Hey…” he says. His voice sounds scratchy. He rocks back so he’s sitting. She goes, too. She feels like she can never let go of him.

“I thought you were gone,” she gasps.

“You, what?” he asks, quiet. Confused.

“Thought...you were...gone! Like Jesus! I thought...somebody took you!” Francesca sobs. It feels like her heart actually is breaking. It’s the worst feeling.

“Hey… No… Nobody took me,” Levi rubs her back.

Francesca cries a little more before she can start calming down. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, not looking at him.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t know. I won’t do it again.” Levi says seriously.

“When people just go and don’t tell me… It just… I don’t know…” Francesca tries.

“Maybe it reminds you…” Levi asks, his voice still sounding like he’s sick.

“Of Jesus being gone, too,” Francesca nods.

“You’re pretty young. Do you remember that?” he asks.

“No, he came back when I was one and a half,” Francesca wipes her eyes. “But the last time we were here, Moms thought Jesus was gone again. Moms were fighting and checking to see if he fell through the ice outside. Mariana was crying. Jude and Brandon were fighting and Callie kept asking to go look for him but Moms told her ‘We can’t lose you, too.’” He was gone a long time. Then he came back. But I still remember him being gone. The feeling inside.”

“Being unprotected,” Levi offers.

“I think…” Francesca nods. “Like every bad thing could suddenly really happen. Bad guys were real. There was more than just Jesus’s one bad guy. The world, like, became dangerous…So, last night it felt the same, even though you’re not Jesus.” Francesca’s looking at Levi in the eyes. “Did you feel that way? Is that why you left?”

“No,” Levi shakes his head. “I felt guilty. Like I was selfish for wearing you out. And getting you and Dominique followed.”

“You didn’t,” Francesca insists. “I wore myself out. And the peon followed us, not you.”

Levi cracks a smile.

“Next time, can you just ask?” Francesca begs.

“Ask what?” Levi wonders.

“If you’re feeling guilty about stuff. Ask if it’s true. We’ll tell you. Friends don’t lie, you know?” Francesca tells him.

“What if they tell me it is…” Levi worries.

“Friends also don’t hurt each other on purpose. Or at all. So…” she shrugs. “If you’re worried about a lot of stuff just come talk to us about it. We’re like your dad. We’ll protect you.”

“Thank you, Francesca,” he squeezes her again. “Hey, how did you get up here?”

“Crawled.”

“Ah. Need a hand down?”

“Not really,” she hesitates.

“No? Why?”

“What if I wanna stay here? Not in your room, just outside it like this?” Francesca asks.

“Well, I was thinking about...getting some pancakes.” Levi winks.

“We didn’t buy any…” Francesca objects.

“But I did, and I hid them in a secret spot. Wanna come down and find them with me?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Finally, Francesca smiles. She grabs her blanket but then can’t figure out how to bring it with her and go down stairs.

“Here, I have an idea. What about...a cape?” Levi asks, tying the blanket at two corners around Francesca’s neck. “And what about a boost?” he bends down for her to climb on, piggyback style.

She does.

“Just hang on tight,” Levi insists.

“I will. I have strong arms,” Francesca shares, holding on extra tight.

They find the pancakes in the freezer. Levi shows her the best way to eat them: with peanut butter and maple syrup. It really does taste great.

“I’m glad you came home,” Francesca tells him, around a bite of pancake. “I’d miss you tons, otherwise…” She stabs another bite with her fork. “Just so you know? Avoiders? Don’t avoid each other.”

“Wait. I’m an Avoider?” Levi asks.

“Of course.” Francesca nods.

“Why, of course. You barely know me.” Levi says, looking away.

“Well, Jesus didn’t know me at first, but that didn’t mean we weren’t brother and sister,” Francesca shrugs.

“You don’t have to include me in your thing…” Levi hesitates.

“Too late. You’re included,” Francesca smiles. “It’s good. It means you’re wanted.”

Levi wipes his eyes.

Francesca doesn’t make fun of him. She just hands him a napkin for his tears.

#fic: somewhere inside

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anneedmonds · 6 years ago

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Life Update: Watching Paint Dry

Here’s Angelica waiting patiently for her nails to dry (kids’ polish) whilst watching Teletubbies on the iPad. My heart can’t take it, she’s so tiny, yet so grown up – imagine what emotional turmoil I’m going to be in when she hits her teens! She’s only three, so basically I have another ten years of this sort of heartache (wondering on a daily basis where on earth my baby is going) before the real drama starts.

Talking of drama, I’m supposed to be in the final throes of preparing my app for launch (The Night Feed – read all about it here) but I don’t seem to be able to a) focus or b) get a clear day/week/month when I can just lock myself away and sort things out. I always thought that balancing work and family would get easier as the babies grew up, but in actual fact it gets much much harder.

Angelica whenever I go to disappear up-upstairs: “Where are you going Mummy? Into your office again?”

Ted whenever I go to disappear up-upstairs: “Mama! No mama! MAMA! NO MAMA!” Repeat to fade.

Working from a home office seemed like a great idea at the beginning – even this time last year it was working well – but as time goes by, being able to hear normal life going on around me is proving to be less than ideal in terms of productivity. It’s not that I’m tempted to go down and join in with the jumping/dancing/joyous screaming/microphone screeching – I only get two or three days a week to get all of my stuff done, so I’m quite good at being disciplined and staying behind a closed door – it’s more that I get a big twinge of Mum Guilt about the fact that I can’t “do it all”.

To be perfectly honest, though (I’ll regret writing this, I know): I don’t think I could actually survive without my two/three days of non-mumming. The fact that I work through those days like I’m a demented medieval scholar trying to find a solution to Henry VIII’s marriage problem is irrelevant; it’s still time off from being a Mum. Being a Mum is hard work. Wow. Sometimes I spend a good few hours at the start of a work day just staring at things and arranging beauty samples because I feel so fried. Oh, and lying down formulating sentences in my head. That’s a favourite thing to do when I can’t summon up enough energy to sit up and type. They’re always amazing, these sentences – sometimes entire blog posts – but then quite often I fall asleep for twenty minutes and when I wake up the words are gone.

But enough about me, what about the kidlings? Ted (two and two months) has suddenly gone from baby to proper functioning little person. PFLP. He wears corduroy trousers and puts toy cars in his pockets and carries a plastic screwdriver about in case he needs to pretend fix things. He makes me wooden cakes at his wooden kitchen and he tucks plastic dolls into their little blankets.

Ted is also very particular about dressing. There are certain items that he simply refuses to put on (buttoned shirts, slipper socks) and he definitely has a preference for particular tracksuit bottoms or pyjama tops. And he has started to “model” his outfits – when he’s asked to show what he has on he sort of pushes his hands into his pockets and swaggers into a cool standing position. I have no idea where he has learnt this.

Angelica’s favourite outfits are still the princess dresses that we buy from the fancy dress section at Sainsbury’s. I’ve stopped taking her to the supermarket because it was becoming a regular thing, the dress-buying; I reckon she has every incarnation of fairy/princess/angel dress they’ve manufactured. Her favourite, unfortunately, is the Spider Princess monstrosity that I bought at Halloween, which has to be worn with a very specific pair of glitter tights and a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath. Now and then she bolsters out the skirts of her dresses by pulling on a huge net tutu underneath so that the dress pouffes out and upwards. Again, I have no idea where she gets this from; I don’t rock any model poses at home (or at all, as you’ve probably noticed!) and I definitely don’t wear underskirts.

Maybe it could be a new thing for me. Pencil skirts certainly don’t do me any favours at the moment.

I have been pondering the merits of teaching Angelica how to call for help if something dreadful happens – how to dial 999, or to safely shout for a neighbour. After the tree fiasco, when I thought I had double-blinded myself and/or knocked out my own brains, it occurred to me that it might be useful for her to know how to summon outside assistance. But then I do worry that she might use 999 for something that her three year old head considers to be an emergency but most definitely isn’t. Dolly falls out of bed. Dexter the dog eats her hairband. Ted won’t give the remote control back. Thoughts on this one? What’s the right age to start infiltrating little minds with practical bits of knowledge?

Although I’m having to be a bit careful with Ted’s knowledge in case he turns into some sort of (very cuddly, very kind) evil genius. Even though he’s not the chattiest of tiny people (we’re still at the two/three-word sentence stage: “More book Mama”, “THIS book Mama”) he just has this very funny way about him that speaks volumes. Cheeky. When he goes quiet, you know there’s trouble – he’s shredded an entire colouring book and made a bird’s nest to sit in, or he’s emptied the whole of the pan cupboard. If he knew how to use the phone he’d be prank-calling the local pizza shop and ordering bras on QVC.

We’ve had to start safety-pinning him into his sleeping bag, otherwise he waits until we’ve gone downstairs, unzips it, removes his pyjama bottoms, slips off his nappy and wees all over his mattress. Sometimes he lies back down in the wee and then falls asleep in it, and we have no idea that it’s happened, and he wakes up in the night cold and annoyed with his naked bottom poking up in the air.

I say all this like it’s a huge problem; he only did it for a few nights and then stopped. But it was significant enough for us to order childproof safety pins and then start to use them. Mind you, I suppose he can’t get the bloody thing off now so it’s not surprising he’s stopped doing it! Duh.

I must just go and eat a snack-size Flake. I’m trying to be really healthy at the moment but there’s only so much typing a woman can do without adequate sustenance. I’ve been doing Barre and Pilates recently (well, twice – ha!) and so I’m trying to match my diet to my good intentions. I’d like to be able to touch my toes by summer and then by Christmas it would be nice if my belly didn’t rest on my thighs when I did my shoelaces up.

Note: there is nothing wrong with bodies that can/can’t do these things, I just like being able to do them/not do them. I like being able to sprint up stairs two at a time, I like being able to fit into any of my jeans – any! Any of them will do! – and I’m determined to get into some kind of exercise routine that involves moving more than just my fingers on a keyboard. (Laptop keyboard, not musical keyboard – I’m not Ross from Friends.)

I’ve eaten my mini Flake now (total anti-climax, it was tiny) but I’ve just realised I have to sort out some pressing technical admin issues for the app and it has to be done before midnight. Stay tuned for more news on The Night Feed – those who registered their interest to test it out will be getting sent a link to download soon, but I’ll give you a heads up beforehand so that you can keep a lookout for the email.

If you fancy browsing back through my life updates then they are all here – there are pages and pages of them, so pick your month/year and marvel at how life has changed! To be quite honest, it feels as though I wrote the very first one (here) yesterday. I wonder whether I’ll still be doing these updates in another three years or four years?

The post Life Update: Watching Paint Dry appeared first on A Model Recommends.

Life Update: Watching Paint Dry was first posted on April 3, 2019 at 10:08 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at [email protected] Life Update: Watching Paint Dry published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley

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ask-the-swapfell-crew · 8 years ago

Text

a recovered piece of kkhoppangs swapfell script (it is badly translated though)

Swap-based version of the Opel au. Swap Pell [burned] == == Charra away from children. Jumpingthat wearing dresses basic items- Knife / Bandages == == temi!"Hey, I Miya Te" You will not ruin the first place? I'm confused. Here's the really scary. You'll help you get out of here. It's a bullet wound that may cause you. To avoid all this yearfit: - Oh! OK? Sorry. Look, I've lived was too fastfit: - do not did really well! It's really simple pattern. Outside it is much more dangerous and frightening than things always ... uh ... uh ?? He's coming! US'm sorry. I'm gonna get!First (Jumps like a fox disappearing into the ground when you leave) == == Gore Ass Black Goat. Robes wearing that same thing. Use magic "last man jyeotgun down." It's a very human thing away a long time. You will go with me to the castle a few days. The throne is going to be mine. "El Tori" is not 'Aspire Gore's sex'd sounded fuzzy name. To pass here anyway, you have to go past the place where I am. I have work to do, so come take care of you. This does not even go beyond the ruins'll also have a chance not. Oh yeah. Zuma this phone. Hokyeo any haneungun If you did not do because of your weakness receive but your phone to contact if what happened [theruins 1 (* in the shadow of the ruins are kkalrigo dark. Your willingness climb well.) (All Puzzles of the ruins are there crushed) - it has been accurate and original puzzle dizzy, but everything is a mess. You can only learn the way (walls,something between pillars has shattered me.) == == Pile (temi) US'm sorry! I'm not running away had left. I was just too scared ... that's not self-oh. This is all because I am not a coward ... Now! It's no Miya. Gun me some kind words to the pilecharity: - to Um ... what is this also wasnt too bad - conversation: You did well! When you talk in this way, most of the monsters are gonna let you! Oh, what if she were not such a monster? ... That's hadeonga threatened with a knife you're holding ... deonga spend money or send you give ... be careful if bwajun hands as thesethinking ?????? helpwoowoowoo the basement is where I really like that ... leads inevitably going to have to use this method I'm talking about. [2 ruins (temi)I again I have to go look around the ruins side. Asda Gore everbring break came back into ruins everything except'll never risk a monster. Thank you for continuing to believe me ... I really appreciate it! (* Smells dull sound each time you press the shattered remnants of the walls and pillars of the ruins. You this must be one ... that thought fills your will) (monster candy & gold) * note that something is stuck -Hi! Temi's me! I forgot what I did not before! That'll help you! * There are three dogs and candy placed money 400 G. Do you go get it? Yes / No (stone to push), I can not move here. There is always fixed in place so you can have pitfalls released. Who did he? You would knowcurious.) (here and there - even in cluttered ruins with a hole in me Every dog used as much as it is the nerve that your full commitment to the - In the wake continued to weigh down the scriptEvery dog *...? Every dog has something to inside 반짝인다. ==햅스타블룩== ........................................ ............................................... (왜 I'm not going to keep standing) ........................ ... * (ghost cries sit still.) * How omgipni forced to? * this was Happ star Brooke *look *to attract threat * to *praise to praise -you to do our best Happ star Brooke It was a compliment. What? * Happ star Brooke looks like a little feel good. * you Happ star Brooke was praised, saying a good voice, my voice Bout me. [Thanks'll fill this place with this voice *praise Happ gave it seem quite jotahjin star Brooke mood. it seems to want to Happ * star Brooke is showing something. Then I'll have to show something! Now try this. It's a star Brooke. Brooke is there * Star Happ anxiously awaiting your response. Too. Usually yen in ruins because no one gonna come to practice today, though mannatnesomeone that knows my true Oh Yeahvalue.Look at my spirit. Let me out of the way now. Bye, darling. (Grille part of the non-business) * The most popular dishes in the restaurant of the flame. Taste once seeing please find - Fireworks salad G:. 15Salad of flame shape. Go eat something that seems to cheat another example. Maybe even something made by fire? HP 20 Recovery - fireworks wine G: 50flame wine made with flame-shaped flame. Shining beautifully, but looks like will not eat. But something visual to stimulate curiosity. All HP recovery. 1 minute screen Indah lashed (signs) * forget about You've *just now nothing that can affordably enjoy a popular menu of flame restaurants. * Come, please bosigil as fireworks and made with flame taste the lovely food. (* In ruins but let's look heoreum small house somewhere without knowing grandeur becomes your full commitment.) [house of Ass Gore (GoreAss)'RE really well so far. I've eliminated all the pitfalls haetgetji easier. For what I have come to have such a nuisance traps in ruins? Eopji went through me useless. I mean to me I'll die anyway D.Shea, go to the first room. It should look for in El Tori perfectly good condition. * You are (Xconversation downstairs) upstairs. Yet it did not remove the mines. I can put into force. Come on in that first room is (Gore Ass) You hope of human monsters. You jinaeya to me before going to the palace. Can not be exported alone. * You now nagagetda in the ruins had to say ...So I think the four got to the door right away to fight. Until it'll remove the trap in place. There is room to behave. [Ruin door (AASGore) You'd're going to the 'home' to the right. In front of me there is a door out of the ruins. Not only door to go to the underworld. Discard'll break the door. I do not flee alone. If you thought up over the fallinghumans are all celebrated here gruesome fate. Both continue to hit chyeotji ran away again. He fled up the exit die. O foolish man. If you leave now, you ruins. El Tori'll kill you. If you leave with me right'll send a good luck good life here. You can not stop me. ... El Tori I did not win the opponent. You will surely die out unless cartridge down even or you if you really want to get out of here and go through teurigo me downway... [Ars Gore *Asda Gore stood blocking the Should be attacked like undertale Asda Gore mercy become available (Arssat hesitate Gore) ... you haguna stronger than I thought. (At least, at the spring) Did I leave the door [toattack]> Mercy (AASGore) ... you're ... Yeah. So you want to get out the door. You've angetji going through that trap door. Look out against the door. Him to talk to the couch Tori L. Gore Asdain front of the door [the ruins last temi] (temi) You really nobody Yusheng past Asda without harming Gore! Just great ... really ... ... I'mnotOh. Lovable you really proud! The basement has got a bit of a selfish need. Now go out to the ruins'll suffer more cruel and harder than here. If I did not keep ... If you're not trying to burden ... No! I gonna Needless You can always go according attaches to always keep you looking your help. SoDo not die! - the way to go Dean Snow] * ...inside? The camera is hidden * Bush. It smells faintly smell of gunpowder. == == Papyrus is always biting a cigarette. Samsun white socks Three Bar (samdi dozen) has a black right eye is almost nanninggu siphi twine. All the bones except the head is yellow. In selling ttottiah "man. Did not know what to look for someone better to do?" Just Laghouat Take the mouse in my hand Yeoju kkojil kkojil money in your pocket. * Jwiyeo gave the money to someone you ...? What do just this? Today's gongchyeot. Next time holding me a lot to hear that, kids. By the way, you not human? I never thought ... I really come out the papyrus. Bone Papyrus. Originally supposed to be the one to watch humans. The real mean just annoying. Underground me and no matter how the release doegeodeun If the money. But my brother, Sands's really crazy to human hunting. If you're a little dalryeool screaming. What do I know anything bar, but it's not possible that this money if you wait geotjjeum hidden. If you agree withacross.This bridge (very large rock falls on the bridge as soon as you cross the bridge) *felt down the sweat ran down your spine. Oh, yeah played not say. This also'm pitfalls. Probably gonna awful lot. Now, go behind the low post. (sumeum by post) touche Sands. Sands == triforce ThereThis==Zelda homage pattern engraved on the side pupil and clothes left chest. In the top of the left eye elongated hole drilled. Liked the sandwiches. Euhehe said laughing. Use the scythe looks like a bone "Hey! What is papyrus !!!!!!!!" Now you're not looking to bridge collapsed behind me? You're coming across touched?! How stupid thing to give up and not even every day! Check cigarettes all the time waiting or just stiff and peer! You know your bones are turning yellowish! (Papyrus) Oh wow that's true salgetne below! Rani golden bones. Nyehe (Sands),Papi !!! Why do you remind me so annoyed! Even now I'd stand here like a torch had smoked only cigarettes! (Papyrus) Oh, no. While crossing the bridge defendant had'm going to smoke soon go to the post (Sands)clean up the rocks in no time at those mean little check back Haran! What about if human beings are going to come here!?! Even if you miss the gold gajan Oh my reputation! I have always be the best! So it unconditionally! I catch the man! And I, Sands's great! Everyone would go up to where you can see me better than looking up now! More respect ... ... maybe we can finally be recognized Royal Guardsmen! Like me, so I do not put a great alternative to people why! Everyone is always joahryeo me head! I'm afraid! Why not get into modernity even in the Royal Guard! (Papyrus) Well ... you're always thinking that I'd just hit (Sands) What ?! I'm thinking I'd rather you hit papyrus! Ppyeokdagwi're damn! You always know just cigarette smoking in this place !! Yeah, you know what? Only when there is always a smell of cigarettes stricken nandago! (Papyrus) modern Whoa ... Sands We do not have a nose? (Sands) coming !! (papyrus) should straighten impression. It's not that I say wrong? (Sands) Yeah! I could not refute nandago more annoyed! Why are you coming ... why everyone avoids a great man like me? (Papyrus) not a monster or two are injured because of who you getnya I approached the hustle-nine of you. I'm not very scary. To mean bone Series (Sands)coming !!!!!! conversation with you when you honk the bone! (Papyrus) and hagetne That sounds dull indeed. (Sands) damn papyrus !!!!!!!!!!! !!! I'm going into my zone! - End of conversation (papyrus) Hey, kid come out now. Oh right. 'Cause there was a lot of smoke smell would wake even a note of breath? I do not care as using a skeleton. [* You said no because goerowotda moldy sandwich.] Ah, there he forgot again. That would've made this guy Sands. Modern Well sort of ... thing ... that guy made nandago taste as if've stuck with cheese on old socks. There are modern smelly fruit. I imagine that? Always said to bring modernity to eat ur making me every day. How's that going to do even the simplest food? Oh right moment setne in the wrong place. What gave you earlier kkajida effect of money here. If this continues Sands is coming back, and you'll separate the bones and flesh. We go do this, I do not like (goingbeyond the moment map) (papyrus) Well Well one can tell you two sleep areas within'll probably be safe? But when you might not really die in the sands area. Jundamyeon earlier topped more than I'll show you a shortcut that you can comfortably go. What do you think? 150G? Do you pay Yes> No, papyrus and Sands met again after the event when it past the traps must be GAME OVER killed. theYou are my hope. Come'd perked spirit. 150G? I pay > Yes No (papyrus) Good good. Exactly 150 gold. Haejuji leads to a very easy shortcut. Let's See you later. * (Janjanham of the light fills your will.) [Papyrus Sands (Sands)So, I've told you about before seen pieces! ... You! You yiguna humans! Right? Finally ... (papyrus) That, no stone? (Sands) You eotnya snow pea! Where's that looking at a stone's! (Papyrus) Well [Do the right eye almost wound siphi (Sands)... ㅉmy (papyrus)the (Sands)coming fromright!Fuck !!!!! Thefinally human! It's human! Peace Day ...know that Inow! You can really get into the Royal Guard! Can get into it! Human! You can not pass through this area! I, the Great Sands God's gonna kill you! No, but grab captured previously. I know you take to pieces! And ... and ... what'll do anyway!What are the preceding're my area! You're going to die anyway, hanging in my trap! Euhehe! (Disappears) (papyrus) Well, now let's go take a shortcut. customer. △△ |||||||| △ |||||||| △△△ |||||||| ─┘ |||||||| ━┓ |||||||| ┌──── ↑ ┏━ ┗┓[fumesthat way (papyrus)Now, go out to the snow here is the Dean. Good luck, sir ~ [Snow-legged former Dean (Sands)man! How did you come out of my puzzles and traps ?!the same guy !!!! Likedojo!But it get away! Finally you'll be the most painful experience and challenge! Enjoy! The trials of death Shock and Awe! (Naeryeoom trap), I issue the command, everything's going to work! The cannons are fired! Hwinalrigo thorns! The blade sliced throw away! To beat down fiercely swung to everything! Odds are we going to survive the lean! Dwaetnya ready, man! Now! I pressed !!!?... (Papyrus) Well? You're right click? (Sands) Why ... Why is it not working! Why!!! Coming !!! it's annoying!annoying !!!! TheFuck! Human!! After you repair the puzzle so I'm gonna I kill you !!!! (Red) (papyrus) Now, here's the end of my role. If you gave money not just to the degree. Well? What's that look'd chyeojun much if this level. [Snow Dean (*somewhere is shabby houses lined seems that long face sitting on the roadside. Amber light of the bedside in a gloomy atmosphere of the town fills your will. ) == == Asda Riel "are you not human?" Why is this man? How are you ever going to the core ahmuryeom You? Mom ... not to see the Queen, El Tori You suffer stuffing -Snow Dean Traders (Gerson) and come. What hasinga and greeted Come inSnow Dean of the Gentiles not even remember who the last time I saw her group need?...Well geotyiji novelties in this shabby village who come to come from. ? It may mean I do not think that travelers oneof where Do you want to know what you can do insnow Dean -?meopet the selling of food is really delicious but I really need the money calculated exhaustive girl not is piled million old books and dusty places called libraries. there is something to be long since lost in length. Although there is no guarantee do I go about the book states gumeon rather not. Dont stay can go to the next inn. There is a modern bed're too cheap. The waist is sick. I do not know a sister group of the innkeeper went to water polo. Oh, look out snow sits on the Dean skull geya there are also a coach to tell you. Taking careful if deonga money and cut your legs. The two probably sounds like a brother ... all of a sudden, one day, he had started to appear more anxious villagers by threatening behavior. The town've been replaced by a much darker. - history of the town bonde did you hear the lessons at school. Well, an underground school ... you know, really rubbish equal,very long time ago, and now they lived in the ruins of the forest monsters. We've all annoying speak briefly to go into the cave, leaving the ruins did end, but only the strong ... a lot of money go to the end of the monster I became. We're I pushed. And where the cold had settled. It's very cold and dark. Oh, and I think that's gonna be nice to see the ruins side anhaneun. The door was locked quite a long time. . You'll haunted the lanes or by digging caves under the door, broken dreams addition've never heard that thing go to that monster came alive around him -life life? Daily pain is not a series of spooky. Dojil likely this claustrophobic. Fast all day monster wants to get out of the basement. Who would want to live in a place like this? I want to attach a severe gap between rich and poor and Deans murder happens every day, dwitgeorae to those who ... a little place like this, but there is no sign of enchantment is broken. What are you doing ... The Queen replaced? I do not even hope. Nagado probably the only monster out enchantment of the core. We're abandoned. Always mean go out of the village to walk ilgeoda- [Library] * (.. The school report on the funeral of monsters are pretty hejyeo) funeral of a monster, so to speak deoteopda reallydust. it turns into aare a monster, dead At the funeral, he gathered the dust to sprinkle over the man best ahkkyeotdeon soeveryone believes that their lives go integer from those things. Indeed ... let alone fleeting -* Monster whereas most magical human being is made up of mostly water. As human physical body is much more powerful than us joy when the product is launched their barrage created a magic symbol of the human will never know. Really is quite a commercial area -* the body of the monster jyeotgi done by magic, and set to the soul. If you do not want to fight this monster, Armor approximately becomes. The more our enemy poakham more neutered, the wounds of coming to attack us is great. Therefore, if the soul encountered strong presence with a thirst for murder ... *humanhistory, the four -can not withstand more fear of monsters,we left the ruins of the old city was biting cold and It fought with damp and swampy, and flaming heat andarrived at the place we call capital. But we have to fight really was a competition between us monsters, not even the cold heat-? of anger about the subsequent poverty and crime, human caused divisions in society - Love, hope, compassion ... (* random pen I crossed to seem to be written like that does not look right approx.), who is the soul of a monster and jyeotdago done with it, but not known what the absolute essence "of the soul." humans exude I need such a thing for the soul exists that was [theVal mailbox (left)(* stated that the mailbox is "Sands" someone sent notes. it is a letter full. read seemed but crumpled nervously looks even some of the tax notice.) (right) (* this mailbox is clogged with wood plank.) [former Sands (Sands) humans. Thou strong and clever thing that I know very well! I hate to admit ... you've managed to remind me annoyed not only safely pass through my trap! And you said ... I heard him papyrus ate the sandwich? Really? I ate really delicious? [* You are not saying - I guess my cooking skills are not really great, [* Once again you] what I understand. How I wish you had a taste of that old sandwich. You really again.You like a sandwich. Is not it? And you're really strong. Maybe if you give me fun. Here are the other guys forsaken soon soon die! I could always really fun. Haejuji did meet me! But ... you showed up! If you'll give me happy! Do not worry! If you still allowed to kill the first need is hanikka. Aneulge will kill! I, gotta Sands's great, do not you ... No! If you're killing it did not show all my strength! I'm going to test my power to you. Now that you're a strong man! You angetji soon die! And, finally, you'll be able to know until where my strength! till now! Who did not show! My strength! Sands just me! ! As a new member of the Royal Guard stood * Sands blocked the road -look at "euhehe!" Likes to say that. Euhehe! * Sands "euhehe!" And whispered something? Would not fight? So, I'm gonna have to strike first. Look good in there! You're going to be spending a horrible time! Euhehe hee! * It's better seoseul conference Sands shining threatening. Euhehe! Alsodo nawayaji! couldYou How survive? * Sands turning entertain sickle rests on the shoulders themselves. I am I need you in there you well until the write special moves! * Sands deongeol papyrus is ppumeot smoke in his face reminded of the frowning face. coming! You're nabeoryeot boring hanikka think eopneunge futile me! * Sandsare preparing something. it suffices to show that al-pieceYou japahda's the end of everything. * Sands has giggle laugh. Now jugetji put me in the Royal Guard! papyrus is ... I do not know! Says the money guys! * Sands has a nice chuck. Then I come not even write them useless. Everybody suppose to gather around (HP 1) me? ... you're too weak! It got caught so easy! Loosen the guy on my right yirang trap puzzle? So easy to get caught beats fun! I can not believe it! I'll send you home to our warehouse! This time I thought I could write my special moves! [The Doghouse Bro *The note left by Sands. You let me know peace until you take it to be here! Do not think the game so far! * (Unfortunately, it's just a dry food.) * (Doorknob or may malfunction. There are written on a piece of paper next to charge as papyrus.) I'll come too! go back! Get to know the pieces they need till you (HP 1) behave! Yes! Before knowing that very cleverly been able to escape the prison, this time I should not! You only mean lower risk ssadolah danimyeon! You havetheresafest year !! left the noteis* Sands. Haran before you say something mean emerge. Even if you kill the other guy, I do not mean diagnostic peg! * (Which contains the chopped sandwich sandwich? ...) * (That is lightly than a hand like this doorknob. I still broken.) You exit again You came? I've still not fixed doorknob?! I mean, you just keep looking tired forsaken repeatedly filled my special moves! But why do I challenge! Although I know what you are doing so weak You fell even stronger than in the surrounding monsters. I understand. Am not a strong person like me who can not (HP 1) satisfy? No matter how you look meanjust fell too weak!modernity. it* Sands note left by Who says you mean please get stuck there! Papyrus haeteuni me now that I doorknob Insurance How are you'll never get out now! * (Poorly taped to it. I still have trouble. Below the Post-it attached two chapters.) Papyrus! I told you to put a little doorknob Fix! Uh no! Malya is the perfect place Fix! Perfect coming !!! Is that what you You better Locked him! refreshed!'veclose.Night does not open even a moment Forget! damn !!! ppyeokdagwi You'retooputs knocker ... do not fix it !!!!!!!!!!!! You remind me repeatedly annoyed by Whatcha gonna do is. Modestly Laghouat have entered! You mean you keep me bored bonde yireona eopdan give time to play with you! Why not going toWhat about this onebe like am Ibeandalbokdalyou!Eueueu !!!! Sick of it! Place you'd like to keep locked up just walk looking at the human condition seen as perfectly good with me, and I just do not hear the nagging- * (How to fight the Sands?) No ... you ... you kidding me?!?!?!? Eueueu! I had Nago you'll play me like that! I know the pieceslaugh at me- are geureogoseo can notto put me'll Royal Guard ... * (do you say?) And that> come back after the end of the day will you do?Coming back again? I believe in you! ... Well that's right. Anyway, you'll be monitored at least in the basement! WhatI mothaetji remember that? Are ifyou going to run away because there is a place even more than that out in the basement'd go out past the Queen. Oh, then you would surely die ... 'Cause I is not gonna win you multiply El Tori! If a strong man like you, but you can get an enchantment that is not enough yigilgeol the Queen? The Queen is going to break the enchantment kill you! That's why the Queen wants the human soul. That's right! Let your phone number. I'll be sure to call! You saenggimyeon the same old toys to play with and I'm also really fun! In fact, I'm really fun to play with you! There's not much to do so long travertine guy! I come to find a short phrase iteunikka work to do at home! Euhehe! Okay. Now I'm here! So here's my number! I am now busy here and there, gotta go. Later let's human! [Waterfall] *(irregular hear the sound of water that fills your will.) (AAS riel) or you guys. You're going to meet with al-piece? havePut to Al-piece to the Royal Guard and the there's always being rejected. entered the royal Guard Mom would give me recognize... Ahright. Do not go where the story telling. [Post] (papyrus) Oh, what's not dead Sands me? That's great, man? What ya doing here you are not working. It means that the two are making money thing profession called two times. By the way meopet go and I am going to go to that story?>Yeah, I'm busy.So there'll see. - meopet shop (papyrus) Newbie. Then I sat down. Hey, you guys not to look in the eyes that I was like eotdan won the money fair and square. Meopet. Today business is going? * (Meopet this were the large quantities of wheat to the receipt of papyrus.) (Meopet) Yeah,well do not be like I should not fast because of your oesanggap. Oh boy cigarette (papyrus) Is not one I can not help labor 'goal' seconds? (Meopet) ... the fucking pun is geomyeon order hanikka real sick or out of order and fast. (Papyrus) for you. Geonya order? Yes> No, what? If you did not order me to this restaurant is attached to the hip'm not Hurry. I am going to eat the food here to talk and not to come. * (... You have no choice but to order. Do you want to buy what? ) - spider cider 20G - spider alcohol 50G (meopet) There's nothing like a kid out of this is that you can drink. Or drink. * (Meopet put down gently sucks the spider cider.) (Meopet) You have papyrus quickly order. S per order. (Papyrus) ... Well unfortunately I Give My Instead came a little kid you have no money. * (... You should buy an additional reluctantly. Buy what you 하시겠습니까?) -거미 도넛 50G -거미 술 50G

#swapfell

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

Text

[MF] Sunday Scaries

The conversation formatting doesnt hold on reddit copy paste, so its much better read thru link

Linking at Top to not spoil the end - hope thats OK!

https://www.casualblasphemy.com/blog/sundayscaries

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

Jesus Christ and Other Swear words

Volume II: Anxiety Rainbow

A Slower Burn to Fiery Finish. About 10-15 minutes

Chapter 2, 3 or 7, not sure yet.

Chapter III: Sunday Night Scream Into the Void

I lie (awake) to myself

A feeling of impending doom. So many emails. Existential dread and the Sunday Scaries.

I cannot sleep, it is nearly midnight. I have so much to do this week.

I lie awake and try to think of all the embarrassing things other people have done.

I can't think of any, so I go back to remembering my own social failings.

The time I tripped in front of my Crush age 14. My disastrous bangs of just last year. The time I mispronounced Worcheschertshishire in front of my cute coworker. The 23 blocks I walked with toilet paper stuck to my foot and that afternoon tanning in the park with a tampon string dangling from my bikini bottoms. Everyone remembers. I am sure of it. I farted once on a conference call.

Monday is only a few hours away. So many emails and the dishes sit soaking for a third day. I shouldn't have slept in today. I have so much to do tomorrow. I think about every time i've fucked up in my past 30 years.

My anxiety builds and I try again to refocus my attention. I try to remember all the embarrassing things other people have done, but I literally cannot think of any. I sort of remember one of my friends shitting his pants. Was that the day I walked into the sliding glass door. Do you think he remembers? Oh god, was it me that poped my pants? Oh jeez, i said poped, not pooped. Im talking out loud to myself.

Thank god no one is here.

I feel lonely.

----

I eat a CBD chocolate and feel the anxiety of impending doom. So many emails.

I remember. I remember every embarrassing thing I have done in my entire life. I have so much to do this week. So many emails. I have a meeting tomorrow and I don't feel prepared. That time I was left hanging for a high five with my hand in the air. I looked like Hitler with no friends. It is Sunday and life is Scary. So much to do this week. Were they laughing at me? I feel lonely. No one talked to me today. I feel like the Pluto of my friend group.

I decide to crowdsource some self esteem and climb on Tinder.

Left

Right

Match!

Left

Oh damn this guy is hot.

Damn, 5’10

Left

Right

Match!

Left

Right

Match!

Right

Match!

Right

Match!

Every time I swipe right it's a Match. I feel attractive and desirable

Left

Double ew!

Left

Right

Nothing. What!?

I lower my standards

Right

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing

Sunday Feels Scary Again. I have so much to do tomorrow. I don't want to play the game anymore. I fear rejection from strangers. Kinda horny tho. I survey my matches and read messages:

“Hey”

“Wanna Fuck?”

“Nice weather Today”

“Show me your bobs?”

“Nice Feet”

A profile stands out

Blake

6”2’ “Ive never shoed a horse, but I told a Cow to go home once”

I don't really get it, but he's HOT. That fish he caught is HUGE! I climb out of my comfort zone and message first. I've never done this before

“Hey” she wrote with butterflies

….

…….

………..

18 minutes pass. Nothing.

I go back to swiping unenthusiastically

Right

Nothing.

I feel like a Moth in a world of Butterflies. Undesirable.

OH GOD. I research gravity blankets and take a xanax. I think of Cocoons.

I fall asleep lonely horny disappointed anxious and 8% numb. So many emails. Maybe I can do the dishes tomorrow after work, the gym, and picking up my prescriptions. I shouldn't have messaged him. I need groceries. That time I tripped on the bleachers and Becky laughed at me. I run through the grocery list in my head. Eggs, avocados, kombucha, spinach, Shame, paper towels, CBD chocolates. I feel weird.

------

I survive another week with espresso and antidepressants. It was hard. I am so tired. I am so tired all the time. Its sunday night and I feel The Doom coming again. I batten the hatches and prepare to wait out the emotional storm under the weight of my new Gravity Blanket. Its heavy and sweaty and I regret buying it. My anxiety rises to new highs and I feel like an idiot. Thank god no one is here. I feel lonely.

Ping!

Blake: :Me

“Hey ;) still up?”

I think about unmatching to teach him a lesson for not replying to me last week, but digital or not, I really need this distracting attention.

“Maybe ;) whatcha doing?”

Trying not to think about Monday LOL

LOLOL Same Same. Sunday Scaries :o

LOL I KNOW! Just gotta get through this week,

I am getting a puppy on Friday!

Puppy! What kind!?

A Frenchi :) her name is Luna

OMG NEED!

You have any pets?

Nooooo :(

You can come play with mine!

Cats or Dogs?

YES PLZ! I grew up with dogs :)

What was the name of your first pet?

Daisy :) she was so sweet

Awww, where did you grow up?

Seattle, just moved for a new job

It's hard being in a new city!

Well I can show you around!

What is your job?

Never been to Seattle, were you born there?

Born in Suburbia, lol

a little town nearby called Auburn

I work for a company that has meetings

I have a friend from Auburn!

LoL what do you meet about?

No way!

We meet about other meetings

Yea, did you got to Westside Elementary?

Eastside

Oh nice, her mom was a teacher there

Did you have Mrs. Ellison for 1st grade English?

I don't remember a Mrs. Ellison?

I had a Mr. Gardner

Oh lol. U like cars?

Sort of

I just got a new one :)

What was the make and model of your first car?

Wow! You are having quite the year!

Lol 1994 black honda civic. The dream

You sound like a Capricorn

Virgo!

Oh nice, when is your birthday?

August 24th, 1990

Just got a pic of my puppy, wanna see?

OMG YES

206-390-0345

I like Capricorns ;)

Oh god that sounded desperate

Texted you

Didn't get it!

Tried again

Nothing :(

Lol new phone too, I think its fucked tho

Whats your email, I wanna show you my bb pup!

Lol look at you Mr. New

[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])

….

……

……..

Did you send it?

…..

Hello?

Fal Asleep? lol

Ping!

An email arrives to my racing heart. He's so inquisitive! New car and a puppy! I wonder what he does for a living? Such a Gentleman, that was a whole hour of texting and he didn't even ask for nudes. I click the notification but my email won't open.

Please login to continue. I type my password “Daisy123”

Incorrect password/email combination

Please try again

Oh, is it lowercase?

******3

Please Try Again

*****3

Please Try Again

******3

Please Try Again

Ugh im so tired, I can't even type right. I'll leave it for morning

--------

MondayVegan Jessica III sleeps well in dreams of Blake, Frenchi’s and Avocados under the weight of her anti-anxiety gravity blanket. She wakes with a smile and grabs her phone eagerly.

Please Try Again

Vegan Jessica III eats her last free-range Avocado on a piece of whole-wheat gluten-free non-cruelty noGMO carboloaf. Num!

Please Try Again

Fucking Annoying!

I switch over to my work email and begin responding to CC threads as I walk to the train. I meet with my team and we plan our next meeting. We have a great plan to plan.

I get home exhausted. I am so tired. We met for three hours and planned for three more days of planning meetings about meeting plans. I log in to tinder and check my messages. Nothing. I take a xanax and go to sleep. The dishes are molding and i'm out of avocados.

Tuesday

I wake stressed and skip breakfast. I head into work and drink espresso. We meet again to discuss our plan to plan. Everything goes as planned and we adjourn. I get out of work 15 minutes early and swing by CVS Pharmacy for LaCroix and drugs.

Some freak in a fedora oggles my breasts through my oversized sweater. What is he even looking at?

“Hi, yes, prescription pickup for Vegan Jessica III. It should have been called in Monday”

“Sure thing, insurance and ID please. Have a seat, it'll be about 15 minutes”

Pharmacists are just drug baristas, change my mind. I wait 45 minutes for the man in the never-dirtied lab coat to grab a prepackaged bottle of prozac from the wall. I hand him my credit card.

“Im sorry Ma’am, your card was declined, do you have another?”

The word ‘Ma’am’ turns three of my pubic hairs grey. It makes me kind of miss that creep in the fedora surveying my body.

Are you sure? Can you try again

Yes ma’am, the card is declined. Do you have another Ma’am?

Ma’am

Can you try calling them? I left my debit at home and don't have any cash.

I glance at my Fitbit. The time is 6:01pm

Its after 6pm Ma’am, you'll have to wait till tomorrow.

I leave the CVS and the pharmacists spends the next 30 minutes placing the bottle of pills back on the shelf.

----

I go home feeling frustrated. I skip the mailbox, dishes, dustbunnies and head straight for my bed. I pull the gravity blanket over my head like a ghost and feel a little better. I eat a half a pound of CBD chocolate and feel much better.

I log into Tinder. Fucking Blake ghosted. Unmatched. Under my blanket I get scared of ghosts and eat another ¼ pound of CBD chocolate.

Wednesday

I wake feeling like shit. I don't know why. I feel stressed. I call in sick to work and take a xanax and go back to bed. I awake to a phonecall from an unknown number. Fucking spamassrobocalls. I scream FUCK YOU to 1s and 0s. There's a panic rising in my throat.

I haven't checked my personal email in days now and try to log back in. I click password recovery and an email is sent to my old college email | [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected]). Ugh I can't believe I used to eat honey and drink milk with my coffee; I feel ashamed of my former self. It feels like a Sunday, but it's only wednesday.

I try to login to my old college email to recover my password for my post-college email.

I try to remember my old password

Please Try again

I try all my old combinations

Please Try again

Lockout timer 29:59..

29:58….

29:57….

Ugh I hate this shit.

Trying to recover a password to recover a password. Did I type it wrong? Was it capitalized? Am I just not remembering it right? Was the ‘I’ a “!” ?? Was there 123 at the end, or maybe beginning?

I need to set my passwords to things I can never forget. Maybe take a lesson from Sunday. Shame and Trauma seem to make for fantastic passwords.

MyFatherAbandonedOurFamilyIn1997!

That's not something im likely to forget

I spend the next 29 minutes finally doing the dishes and feel a little better.

Please Try again

Lockout timer 59:59

FUCK

I hate this shit. I click the password recovery button on my college email and a third is sent to my very first email address. [[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])

I go to AOL.com and try to login

Please Try again

It feels like im opening those Russian Dolls. Every time I open one, another is there. The Russian Nesting Dolls of Digital Frustration. Please Try Again Later.

Recover the password

to recover the password

Please Try Again

I channel my frustration and hit the gym. Pilates class with Pontious. I stop on the way home and Scream into the Void. I feel a little better.

I check the mailbox before the stairs.

I turn the key and an avalanche spills out. Envelope after envelope, it seems unending. They just keep coming. The cascade flow dries to a dribble and I reach inside to scoop the rest of my mail out.

My arms are full of dead trees and I feel sad. Plus its like super heavy after an hour of cross planking. I ascend the stairs and unlock the door with my keys in my mouth. I push the door open with my forehead and dump the heavy mess of envelopes and magazines on the floor.

A Victoria Secret catalogue catches my eye. I make a mental note of my despise for their company message and start perusing the pages. What kind of image are they putting in the heads of young girls. False standards of beauty. Where are the real women! That bra is like super cute tho. I order three in different colors but my card is declined. The bras never come, its ok tho, they wouldn't have fit me anyway.

When my card is declined I think of Blake’s rejection again. Ghosted. What an asshole. Whatever he's probably just another pig who gets off to Victoria Secret models and supports an impossible standard of beauty. I am now convinced Victoria’s real Secret is mainstream distribution of introductory pornography to young boys in suburbia. That's a big mental leap to take from subquality prethought, but I think it's important to note where some of these idolized false standards of beauty start. They start with aging young Mother’s ordering VS products and catalogs to catch renewed interest from their lazily inattentive husbands and trickledown pornoEconomics recycles the catalogs to prepubescent boys. Hidden and stolen, they are a prime middle-school currency. The image of Desire becomes fixed in pubescent development and the path upscycles again.

I throw the catalog away disgusted and pick up my copy of the much more realistic Vogue. I eat more CBD chocolate and forget to call my credit card company. I fall asleep with fragrant advertisements and two miles of photoshop-smoothed Gigi Hadid legs on my face.

Friday

It's a beautiful morning and i'm feeling rested. I don't know what happened to Thursday. We have a brief meeting about next week's meeting and are dismissed early. Summer Fridays are the best! I meet up with my besties and we dress up to impossible standards of beauty.

Thin pink straps patterned with “VS VS VS” loop my shoulders out of my strapless black dress. Clash is in. I think it looks cute even tho the bra doesn't fit well. I lace up my gladiator platform cork wedges and we head out for a night of dancing.

I dance next to my ugliest friend and bask in double attention.

Buy you a Drink?

Wanna Dance?

Ever Ride a Motorcycle?

All eyes on me. I dance and twirl and snort the night away. This cocaine is fantastic. My credit card still doesn't work so I have boys buy me drinks. I black out a bit and wake up in my Uber home. Its light out and the birds won't shut up about the stupid sun. My heart is beating arhythmically and I feel weird. A feeling of impending doom is brewing and it makes me feel weirder - it's not even Sunday.

I sober up a bit, but can't sleep. I decide to finish the vial of cocaine I took from that boy and do some housekeeping.

I take the trash out and open my computer. I feel inspired to clean and conquer.

I will recover my password!

I see a button for ‘alternate recovery options’ on my ancient @aol email and click

A series of questions challenge my identity

“Date of Birth”

August 24th, 1990

“What was the name of your first Pet?”

Daisy

“What was the name of your 1st grade English Teacher?

Mr. Gardner

“What City Were you Born in?”

Auburn

“What was the Make and Model of your First Car?”

1994 Black Honda Civic

And just like that I'm in! I recover my password and recover my password and recover my password.

The russian dolls reassemble and my anxiety plummets

--------

----

---

Until I open Gmail to a Nightmare

The realization grips me. The Saturday Scaries are Real. I spring to the 4 foot foyer of my apartment where the non-fashion-catalog remainder of my mail avalanche sits piled like rubble.

I rifle through envelopes and cut my finger. It really stings. I suckle a droplet of blood and read the envelopes

Bills. Bills of all kinds. Bills of all shapes and sizes. Bills Not mine, but mine. An acre of rainforest in bills.

My iphone rings and my phone wont open. Panic Panic Panic. Saturday Scaries. I pull my bleeding finger from my mouth and the iphone recognizes my face. I answer the call

“Ma’am i'm calling from TransUnion Credit Reporting, we've seen some unusual activity on your report this week, can you confirm opening the following 227 Credit Cards on Sunday between the hours of 11pm and 4am Monday Morning?”

(This phone call 97% actually happened)

My vision spots and I hit the floor.

___

I awake Sunday. My head is throbbing and my finger hurts. I look at the papercut and it stares back with green eyes. It smells like Almond Butter, but the gross GMO kind. I put CBD oil on it and leave the house.

I head to the hospital, but my credit card is declined. My finger is green to the knuckle and it definitely feels like a Sunday.

I head home and curl up in my bed. With my green arm I pull the gravity blanket over my head and cry. I fall asleep feeling scared and not safe.

I wake to pain. The green has spread throughout my whole body. I feel weak. I need to go to work. So many emails.

I feel The DOOM

I try to lift the gravity blanket, but I am weak and it is too heavy.

The longer I stay, the weaker I become. Days pass and I miss meeting after meeting. I sweat profusely trapped inside a cocoon of anxiety. Unseen emails pile up and add to the weight. My phone is out of battery and I can't reach past the blanket for my charger. I need water. I really need water.

I feel The DOOM

I think of blood poisoning and my plummeting credit scoreThe Chrysalis hardens to reject the outside world

It becomes my Tomb. I feel safe here.

Immune to Anxiety

No emails, no meetings.

The DOOM fades to black and so do I.

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