#this time it took me three days and lots of usb drives and a couple of online storage websites because fucking hell

[disdaidal]

I reinstalled Windows on my laptop and it feels good to start anew.

Just so I can again fill it up with unnecessary junk again and then cry myself to sleep every night lol.

I also removed lots of bloatware and I actually have a sufficient amount of space on my OS (C: drive), which is fucking great because I now can finally play the Sims 4 again. 😭

[valtharr]

I posted this to the alternate history subreddit and got zero responses, maybe Tumblr is more interested in discussing this idea?

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

You ever create an alternate timeline just to indulge in your own nostalgia?

...just me? Okay...

Anyway, for a while now, I've been thinking about an alternate present where present-day sensibilities and everyday life are closer to what they were like pre-2010. Since the biggest influence on modern day life during that time arguably came from the rise of the Internet, social media, and related things, pretty much all of my thoughts center around that.

The point of divergence here is that the Millennium Bug (aka "Y2K") was just as devastating as people feared it would be. Databanks were wiped, machinery failed, there was loads of general unrest as people were falsely classified as deceased, didn't get their paychecks, and other major and minor consequences of their data being either wrong, or gone completely. In some cases, it took years to clean up the mess completely.

This, coupled with the bursting of the dotcom bubble not much later, led to a general wariness and distrust towards anything having to do with the Internet. Businesses might have still been okay with using their homepage as interactive billboards, but it turned out to be almost impossible to find investors or loans if your business directly relied on the Internet. And even those who did get their idea off the ground, failed to find a large enough audience. As such, social media like Facebook and Twitter are barely, if at all, a thing in this world. This is also partly due to smartphones, and therefore smartphone apps, never breaking into the mainstream. Apple could not establish its new iPhone as the lifestyle gimmick of choice, instead going all-in on their iPods, music players that you insert USB drives, and, in modern variants, SD cards into to listen to your favorite tunes. The newest model has three card slots, letting you choose between three different albums on the go!

Streaming, of course, also isn't a thing. No Netflix or iTunes to inspire copycats. Blockbuster partners with Microsoft for their new HD-DVD technology, establishing it as the primary medium to watch videos at home. Sony, meanwhile, focuses its efforts into combining a handheld gaming console and a portable video player. The PSP becomes a huge hit.

But, speaking of video games, online games are an almost negligible market. There's less of a focus on high-end Internet speeds, so playing with friends is an activity mostly relegated to your own home. Microtransactions and subscription services are not a thing.

Some popular websites do establish themselves, but they're far from being as influential and popular as in our world. Youtube stays afloat, but is mostly seen as a place to find new creators, and then follow them onto their own web presence. Very few people manage to make a living off of it, and corporations, TV stations, etc won't be found dead making their own YouTube channels.

Without social media, interactions online are still relegated to message boards and chat rooms, with the accompanying implicit netiquette. Which of course means, everything's still pretty anonymous. Without Facebook introducing the idea of using your real name and photo as part of your online presence (nobody joins a Pokémon fan forum expecting their old classmates to find them there, after all), pseudonyms and avatars rule the day. This, of course, makes it almost impossible for artists to really find an audience, much less make a living off their art. Even if they did find lots of people who enjoy their work, the lack of services like PayPal, Patreon, or Kickstarter, makes it nigh impossible to actually make a profit as an independent online artist. Some find a way, but the concepts of "influencers" and "content creators" never develop.

Amazon fails to establish itself as a major online marketplace. It makes enough for Jeff Bezos to start a chain of brick and mortar bookstores, with the online storefront being more of an afterthought. Most, if not all online shopping is really just individuals selling their old stuff, usually locally.

That's all I really have so far. I'd love to hear some more ideas, maybe things that aren't as tech-centric? Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

[msbarrows]

So yesterday @genginger tagged me in a “three things that you’re proud of in 2023″ thing, and I had to think a lot to come up with things - being long-term unemployed means my days (and weeks, and months) tend to be very sameness-of-a-same.

One thing I got done at the end of the year (but have yet to deploy) is putting together a skills-based resume. Sooooo much anxiety over finally tackling it, as I’ve been unemployed for over a decade now and haven’t job searched in years. Thankfully some online friends did supportive hand-holding while I tackled it. Now I just... need to figure out some applications. Write some cover letters (UGH!!!). Probably make some more versions of the resume, to cover skill sets relevant to specific jobs (DOUBLE UGH!!!).

Been working my way through the big box of old family photos from the basement, plus my personal large file box of photos, and scanning all of them. Have the former finished but am still working through the latter. At some point I need to burn a bunch of them to DVD to send around to my brother and sister’s households (all the family ones, plus some of my personal ones).

One of the biggest projects I tackled in late summer of last year was to finally put together an emergency go-bag for myself (see photo above), inspired in part by katy-l-wood’s Evacuation Prep chart having crossed my dash earlier in the year, plus us here in northern Ontario having had several bad fire summers recently, including the fire by the old ski hill in 2020. Thankfully small, thankfully put out rapidly, but it came right down to the yards of the houses along the base of the ridge. We were on edge for a few hours on whether or not things might go bad and force us to evacuate (not to mention we’ve had bigger fires only a little further away that took 2-3 days to put out), and I’d found myself thinking several times since about what I’d grab if we got that sudden automated phone call or banging on the door. More about the go-bag contents under the cut (it’s long).

Anyone else interested in posting their three things, consider yourself tagged :)

So... go-bag contents! This is still a WIP, I plan to add additional food items to it for one, but at present, from left to right this includes:

couple of foldable water containers. It there’s enough warning before having to leave, those would be filled from the tap and go out to the truck separately, otherwise will be filled at whatever first stop with potable water we* reach.

box of assorted Cliff bars, to be replaced every 6-8 months. I also plan to add a box of assorted fruit bars and/or nut bars and/or sesame snaps. Stable foods with some nutrition and a good energy hit, basically.

the opened out red bag is a first aid molle pouch, it includes EMT shears, bandaids, adhesive mesh, polysporin, and a ton of assorted gauze pads and packing gauze leftover from when I was have a large cyst treated a year or two ago (yay for daily nurse visits to inspect and repack the wound).

the yellow drawstring bag contains a large rain poncho

mess kit, normally stored in the round purse with the raffia flamingo on it (protects it, plus doesn’t hurt to have an extra bag in my bag)

the large black duffle bag that everything fits inside

to the right of that is a dark green electronics storage bag, in front of which are what it normally holds - a solar power bank, my old 7″ android tablet, my old android cell phone (the sim card for which is in my new phone, but it’s still usable for emergency calls and means I have a backup handy if I accidentally break the new phone), red external backup drive, my original bluetooth speaker in its lime green carry case - all of these get their batteries topped up at the start of each month, plus updated (OS, apps, backup files). Also a couple of USB charging bases and cables.

stainless steel thermos

LifeStraw personal water filter (in case the only water source is questionable)

folding umbrella

from in front of that over to right is all small things I store inside a purse organizer, which I have tucked inside a clear vinyl storage bag that some sheets came in, so its protected from collecting dust or lint, plus if anything escapes the organizer it’ll remain in the bag. Contents include: small coin purse holding a small roll of bills, can opener, makeup mirror (as a mirror and for flash signalling), tums, safety razor, comb, hair elastics, USB rechargeable flashlight, soap, tooth floss, toothpaste, toothbrush, ibuprofen, packet of tissues.

the lumpy blue things at back right are compression packing cubes full of tshirts, socks, underwear, a pair of jeans, flannel shirt, light hoodie, plus hiding between them and the clear vinyl bag are a drawstring cloth bag holding pyjamas (so it’s easy to grab just sleepwear), and a zippered pouch of more socks and more underwear. Figure I’ll remove, wash, and repack the clothes on the same 6-8 month rotation as replacing the food in the bag.

Basically it’s aimed mostly at getting to and remaining at an evacuation centre or motel for a couple days sort of goal, but I have also put a bit of consideration into what if we’re unable to reach such a place and end up stuck temporarily outside somewhere, so things like how the poncho can double as a small shelter (which reminds me I should add some paracord or light rope), the LifeStraw can be used to more safely drink from untreated water sources, and I have at least a few days worth of food on hand. Also there’s a sleeping bag stored in the same closet as this kit, so close to hand. And a second, much larger duffle to stuff as many clothes into as possible.

Most of the other small things I’d want to grab, such as ID, keys, and more cash, are in my purse, which is an arm’s length away from where I sit at my computer.

* - I say ‘we’ because I don’t drive, so if there’s an evacuation I’d be going with my brother or waving down a neighbour’s vehicle.

[lindsaystravelblogs3]

Days 16-18 – Saturday-Monday, 10-12 June - End of Tour and On to Sicily

Saturday

It was supposed to be a ‘MyTime’ day today but people were being encouraged to take the train to L’ile Rousse, a pretty village in the hills behind Calvi.  We decided not to go – we needed a quiet day and a chance to catch up a little with our blogs.  In the end, nobody took the train, but most people went on our coach.  It was really just a three-hour trip up and back with time for lunch and a few photos – none of which we felt obliged to enjoy.

We deliberately slept late and did a few puzzles together before going down the brekky.  We have hardly done any puzzles this trip because most mornings, we have had to have breakfast and get on the coach instead of lazing around in bed.

We had to repack everything so we could move on tomorrow – the last day of this tour – but we also wrote a lot for our respective blogs during the day.  We went out for a while around lunchtime because I have mislaid the USB connector for my wireless mouse and we wanted to buy another one.  I am sure it will turn up, but working without a mouse was just getting too frustrating.  We were told to go to the supermarket around the corner where they sell everything – and they really do.  It was a huge place, and I got my new mouse as well as a few extra nibbles to go with our lunch.

A lot of our crowd went into the pool after they returned to the hotel and we have seen them from our window that overlooks the pool – a very pleasant outlook, even without the pool.  We all met in the lobby at 7pm to walk the six minutes to the restaurant where we were all having dinner.  The 'six minutes' was important because our leader had been teased about everything being just ten minutes away.  He had Googled it and Mr Google said it would take six minutes to walk to the restaurant.  After six minutes, I called out ‘Stop – we must be here now’.  Alas, only another seven and a half minutes to go!

The meal was quite good, but they applied a rigorous limit to us of two drinks each – so we bought a bottle and shared it wit those nearest to us.  The table behind us simply walked up to where the wine was stored and took bottle after bottle as a means of topping up their quota.  Some people have no conscience and Aussies bad manners sometimes embarrass the shit out of me.

Sunday

We left the hotel at 8.30 – or would have, except that our leader was late – so make that 8.40am.    A few of our group were either staying on in Calvi for a few more days, or flying out later in the afternoon, but about twenty of us boarded the coach and off we went.  The others stood about and waved us all goodbye. 

It was quite a scenic drive to Bastia where we were to catch our ferry to Livorno. We detoured via the Bastia airport to shed a few more of our group and drove through town to the ferry terminal.  What a schemozzle!  The whole ferry experience was a nightmare.

We were there before 10.30 but the terminal didn’t open until noon – except that it was doing a brisk business before 11.30.  Boarding time was 1pm – except that the Security line didn’t open until 1.15 and absolutely everything had to go through the X-ray machine.  Needless to say, the X-ray picked up our tiny picnic knife, so we had to unpack that whole big bag and show it to the stupid kid who obviously imagined we intended using it to hijack the ship.  Once she saw it – and the scissors and other implements far more dangerous than the little knife – she said everything was OK, and left us to repack our bags.  I think I may have made to odd comment on the absurdity of the security process on a couple of previous occasions – but this one was even worse than the airports.  Others of our group experienced similar frustrations. All the Security staff we encounter seem to belong to a class of their own - Moron Class.

We eventually walked out to a huge asphalt paddock with no signage to indicate how to board the ship, but we found a porter who pointed us to a yellow band painted on the ground and said that was the pedestrian walkway.  We followed that for a couple of hundred metres until we were shouted at to tell us we were on the wrong yellow line – we were supposed to be on the parallel one two metres to our left.  We quickly changed lanes and twenty metres further along, that one merged with the one we had already been on.  Little minds abusing the little bit of power they have to make it as difficult as they can for we poor tourists.

Of course, we are lugging all of our luggage – no trolleys are provided.  Is there a lift, sir?  Just along the side of the bulkhead!  Unfortunately, it was locked, but there are stairs – only seven floors up to Reception!  We eventually found someone else to ask and he arranged for the lift to be unlocked.  A maximum of six people were allowed in the tiny box and with our luggage, there was really no room for our feet so I sat on our cases.  Then the lift wouldn’t work.  It took about ten minutes before another guy told us that one of the bags was blocking a hidden sensor.  Once that was remedied, we were delivered to Reception on Level Seven.  There we were given our reserved seat numbers and told the seats were on the next level up on the left.  Unfortunately, there is no lift!  We lugged our stuff up the stairs but there are no seats anywhere – we were just faced with three ‘do not enter’ doors.  I went back to Reception to be rough-handled by the French crowd and screamed at by the guy at Reception – ‘No English, no English – one stair up and then left – one up, left!!!’  In the meantime, Heather had been guarding our bags on the landing one stair up and discovered that ‘one’ apparently means ‘two’ in French.  We trudged up another flight of steps behind one of the Do Not Enter doors to an area of two hundred seats of which thirteen had been reserved for those of us who had paid for reserved seating.  For most of the trip, twenty-odd blocks of four seats were occupied by snoring sleepers who had not paid extra to be there.  No skin off our nose, but the whole show really was Mickey Mouse stuff.  I washed my hands in the Gents toilet – two of the three cubicles were out of order, as were both the hand-dryers.  When they made the announcement about what to do in the unlikely event of us sinking, I really started to get concerned.  There are no dogs allowed in the reserved seating area, but the noise from the dozens barking two decks below us is loud and incessant.  And people (lots of them) smoke and vape anywhere and everywhere over here and just flick their butts anywhere – it doesn’t really bother me, but it is so different from the very restrictive (some might say, civilised?) requirements in Australia.

The whole experience was awful.  The ship was filthy, there were crowds everywhere, the bar was closed 15 minutes into the trip, nothing worked as it should – maybe that is just Italy in a nutshell, but we were really glad to get off the ship after standing around for an hour, waiting for all the vehicles to be unloaded so the pedestrians could disembark.

We shared a cab with another couple from our group who were staying at the same hotel but when we came to check in, there was no record of our reservation.  They looked under both our surnames and Christian names but found nothing.  We showed him all the paperwork, proving the reservation and that we had paid for it in full.   The concierge was just so helpful and apologetic, and he was very diligent in his searches but the upshot was that, after close to an hour of searching, we had to pay full price again.  At least, there were plenty of rooms and he gave us an upgrade for our troubles.

The other couple from our group were going out as we were making payment and they said that the rooms were microscopic – but ours was more than comfortable with a great outside terrace overlooking the river.  Heather had almost finished an email to our travel agent explaining the situation when the phone rang.  The concierge had found our reservation and payment, and could we please come back to Reception so he could process an immediate refund.  The booking had been made in the name of Heather Wheat - but somewhere along the way, they think a computer translated it to Erica (the botanical genus for heather) Grano (Italian for wheat).  The booking was located under Erica Grano’s name!!  Can you believe that?  I wonder what the computer would have made of Lindsay Doig?

After sorting all of that out, we went to a little openair cafe around the corner.  It was almost 9pm, but a beautiful balmy night, quiet except for the nearby traffic, with a gentle breeze and owner-staff who couldn’t do enough to ensure we had an enjoyable time.  I ordered a seafood crepe and Heather had pasta.  The servings were sensible, an ideal quantity for us, and my crepe was absolutely delicious.   We had a couple of drinks each and when they found that we were Aussies, it was like a family reunion – the owner had visited Brisbane several years ago and welcomed us with great enthusiasm.  We also enjoyed a delicious complementary Limoncello each and sat over our meal for well over an hour.  It was quite delightful and we both loved it.  Then it was bed, deep sleep and numerous night-cramps for both of us.

Monday

Today was really quite enjoyable with somewhat less time pressures and nobody else to consider.   Despite our fatigue after yesterday, we were up around 7am and down to breakfast soon after.  The other couple from our previous tour had an early train to catch so we never saw them.

Our driver for the trip from Livorno to Florence arrived a few minutes early, but we were already sitting outside the door in a shady, flowery portico, so we loaded up and set off for our first stop at the Vespa Museum (more properly, the Piaggio Museum) in Pontedera.  I had no expectations of the museum, and felt that allowing a full hour to look at a few old scooters was overkill, but when we got there, we found that it was closed anyway.   Monday it is closed every week and today is Monday.  The manager saw us at the door and came over to us and explained the situation with many apologies.  We weren’t too fussed, but our driver told him that we had a booked tour and that we had come all the way from Australia just to see it.   ‘Australia! he said, come right in’ - and we were left to our own devices to explore at will - and without paying for tickets.  We did and it was FABULOUS!

They must have close to a thousand items on display, including racing bikes (Vespa’s first foray into road racing was on the day Heather was born!!), artistically decorated bikes, touring bikes - one with an Aussie flag attached and one painted to honour a spell in Townsville - and all sorts of amazing special purpose bikes.   One room was devoted to the first ever motor bikes built by a Mr Gilera in the 1890s, but all the rest were Vespas.  A fire truck, racing bikes, one used in a movie as a bike, helicopter and submarine, one of six hundred used in the desert by the French Foreign Legion (equipped with a rocket launcher and a couple of bundles of rockets), a tram, a mobile bookshop, ornate tuk-tuks - you name it - Vespas have done it – even marine and aircraft engineering.  It was amazing and we really needed at least an extra couple of hours to take it all in.  A few other people saw us in there through the window and wanted us to unlock he place so they could get in, but we tried to hide to avoid anyone else getting cranky when they were locked out while we had the run of the place.   It was a fantastic hour and a huge privilege, and we thanked the manager profusely.

A tram guarding the Museum entrance, a few Vespas in the massive display, and a 'Bike Rack".

Next stop was Lucca, a very old town surrounded by the usual elaborate fortifications and a high wall all around.  The town now spreads out around the fortified area, but we had a couple of hours to wander on our own.  Our driver gave us a map and told us a couple of places to go, one being a large ‘round square’ with lots of shops and restaurants.  

The round 'Square' and a nearby tower featuring both round and square architecture.

We checked it out, but it was crowded, noisy and hot, so we wandered back through the maze of tiny twisting lanes and came upon a church with a photographic display that was pretty special.   One of the photos is a well-known one that has featured on the cover of National Geographic, but they were nearly all great portraits.  We spoke to the photographer who was busy selling prints and it turns out that he was born in Lucca and still lives there.  He wants to photograph in the Amazon but can’t afford the fare.   He was a bit jealous that we had been there so recently.

The famous photo (on the right). The figure on the left might be just as famous to some viewers.

We had a light lunch, very enjoyable with a long cold one, at a shady quiet café, just across the road from where we were to meet our driver, and timing was perfect.  She drove up just as we were crossing the road to meet her.

Then it was on to the Florence airport.  We had a bit of a wait, but we were the third to check in and security was a five-minute breeze - the easiest and best I have encountered for at least the past twenty-five years!  Of course, not everything can go to plan and boarding was delayed by more than an hour.  Not sure quite why, but it seems that they needed to board two people in wheelchairs but could only find one chair.  Despite that, we boarded surprisingly quickly, and take-off was only delayed about thirty minutes.

It was actually quite a fast day for us slow Aussies.  Our driver seemed to be a quite competent driver, zipping in and out of traffic fairly smoothly, if a little faster than altogether necessary.  But then we got out on the Autostrada and her foot went down.  There were short sections where the speed limit was 40, 50, 80 or 110 kph and she sometimes slowed to 140 in those areas.  I could see the digital speed display on the GPS on the dashboard and although I wasn’t watching it all the time, it was displaying 150-plus much of the time and touched at least 166 on several occasions.  Then despite boarding our flight more than an hour late, we were only about ten minutes late landing, so maybe there was some extra speed there, although we were not aware of it.  And then, when we arrived in Palermo, we were met by our hotel transfer driver in a Porsche and our trip to the city had him driving at 150-plus for most of the trip.  We never felt in danger at any time, but people seem completely at ease with much higher speeds here - and even at those speeds, plenty of other cars were passing us.

We checked in at our hotel and did a minimum of organising ourselves before going out for something to eat at 10.45pm.  The hotel told us how to get to a bar a kilometre away because everything else was closed.  Luckily, we found a takeaway place halfway there and bought some hot fried things back to our room for ‘supper’ – more than we could eat and very rich with an oversupply of cheese, as seems common over here.  Then bed at last a bit before 1am!

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fake dating Drabble No. 5

Today with Dave York and 2k (🤡) of being undercover married to him (F) because the neighbors are leaders of a terrorist organization. The leader get a little too handsy at the dinner you had been invited to and Dave does sell the jealous husband very, very well.  Steph’s fake dating Drabble week

Warnings: cursing, inappropriate touching, masturbation, implied sexual content

It wasn’t like you had a choice when the CIA decided that you had to go undercover. It wasn’t the first time and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. But three months in, without having anyone to talk to except your partner, or the neighbors who most likely were the most dangerous people you had ever encountered, it was starting to frustrate you that there was no new information you could provide. But tonight the neighbors had invited you and your partner over for dinner.

Oh yes. You also had to pretend to be married to Dave York, who was your partner for this mission. It didn’t help that you were spending all your time with a man that always seemed to be plotting murder whenever you caught him starring looking at you. These last months were hard. You weren’t used to living with someone, let alone pretending to be in love as soon as you left the walls of the CIA proofed house you were living in with him.

Dave York was a mystery not only to you, but to everyone at the CIA. You always felt a little uncomfortable every time he looked at you and you couldn’t place why. He was nothing but polite towards everyone, but there was something dark surrounding him. Like he knew more than everyone around him. Like he knew all the dirty secrets. Your dirty secrets.

But it also had it’s advantages living with someone. It was nice waking up to the smell of coffee, a mug waiting for you on the counter just as you liked it, while Dave was checking his mails on his laptop. Part of your undercover identity was being the devoted housewife while Dave played the role of the husband who worked as an accountant from home.

You knew he had been married before, but somehow you never felt comfortable to ask him any personal questions. He never asked you either. Every other day you found yourself sitting next to him on the sofa after dinner, his arm on the couch behind you, without touching you, while you watched some netflix together. So people who walked by your house could see that you were a perfectly normal married couple.

He always let you decide what to watch.

“What do you want to watch?” you had asked one evening.

“I don’t really care. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Really? And here I thought you were a couch potato,” you had a glass of wine on that evening and you could have sworn you saw him hide a smile before you started a new episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

“You ready?” he asked through your closed bedroom door. You were occupying the master bedroom, while he slept in the guest room. You decided on a yellow summer dress for the dinner at your neighbors. You felt a little naked with your exposed shoulders and legs, but it was a hot day and it would make zero sense to be wearing something you could sneak your gun in. You knew Dave would be carrying a gun, he always did. And you had no choice but to trust him. Not that he had given you any indication as to not trust him.

You took one last look in the mirror before you walked towards the door and opened it. Dave looked at you, his eyes taking you in for a second before there was this twitch at his lips again. A small smile and this time you were sure of it and you had no idea how to feel about it.

“Come on, we gonna be late,” he said quietly.

He took your hand as soon as he locked the front door, a bottle of wine in his arm.

“If we’re lucky we are finally going to get some intel tonight. These fuckers are a suspicious bunch,” he said as he leaned closer to whisper. You nodded.

“I would be suspicious too if I was running a terrorist organisation from a suburban neighborhood.”

“True,” he chuckled, “You make sure to stay in sight. We don’t know what kind of people these are and I want you to be safe.”

“Aww are you worried about me, hubby?” you teased.

“No. I’m worried about them. I have no doubt that you could take them out if you want to.”

“Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment, Dave,”

“It was, just… Don’t try to be the hero. We knew this would be a longer mission and if we’re lucky tonight might finally be the start of getting things going.”

“I know,” you squeezed his hand and breathed in deep.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded, plastering a fake smile on your lips as he knocked on the door.

Dave really could play the perfect husband. He even remembered what you were allergic to, making sure that no trace of parsley could be found on your plate. At one point he excused himself to the bathroom, giving your leg a squeeze. His hand had been placed on your knee as soon as you had sat down at the dinner table and it almost seemed like he needed some kind of connection to ground himself. You spend enough time with him to know that he was on edge ever since he came back from smoking with the man you knew to be the leader of this whole organisation you were here to get more information from.

His hand went up to your shoulder when he got up and to your surprise he leaned down to kiss your temple before he left the room. You were so surprised by this gesture you almost jumped when you felt someone sit down next to you.

“So… How long have you been married?” he asked. You looked at him, Bill, the man who was responsible for thousands of deaths. You smiled, remembering the story the CIA had manufactured for you.

“Second anniversary is coming up.”

“How did the two of you meet?” he asked and you felt his eyes growing cold. You were now being interrogated.

“That’s a silly story,” you laughed, shaking your head in played embarrassment. Bill only looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“Well we went to College together. We never really had much in common. He’s into numbers, I’m more creative. After college we went our separate ways but years after I needed an accountant for my business and his name popped up.”

“What kind of business?” he asked.

“I used to own a flower shop back in DC. I sold it once Dave got the job offer here.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Not really. Where he goes, I go. And I’m actually looking into opening a new one. Just looked at some properties last week.”

“That’s nice. If you need any help just say the word. I have connections in this city,” Bill nodded, getting closer. It took everything in you not to flinch as his hand came down on your thigh. Much higher than it was appropriate. You gulped.

“I mean it, if you need anything, just say the word,” he was so close now you could feel his nose on your cheek. Closing your eyes you thought about all the ways you could break his wrists within the next 15 minutes when you heard Dave call for you as he walked back into the room.

“Everything okay?” he asked. Bill only looked up at him, giving him a smirk, before he squeezed your leg and let go of you.

“Everything’s fine. We’re just getting to know each other, isn’t that right?” he asked. You nodded with a smile that hopefully didn’t look too pained.

“Great. Well I hate to cut this short, but we got an early morning,” Dave’s hand was on your shoulder and you turned your head to look up at him, your hand coming down on top of his.

“Oh, well. It was nice getting to know you,” Bill said. You got up from your seat and Dave’s arm sneaked around your waist immediately, bringing you closer to him and you let your head fall against his shoulder.

“Likewise,” Dave said, following Bill to the door.

“You’re a beautiful couple. Let’s do this again,” Bill said, his eyes lingering on you. You only nodded, thanking him before you let Dave lead you down the Driveway.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. You only nodded.

“If you would have come into the room 10 seconds later I would have blown our cover. Fuck he’s a creep.”

“He also is involved in way more shit than we originally thought,” he reached into the pocket of his pants, showing you a USB Flash Drive.

“What did you find?” you asked. He shook his head, looking over his shoulder.

“Not here,” he whispered. His arm around you tightened.

“He’s still watching?” you asked. He nodded. “Kiss me,” you whispered. Dave stopped walking and looked at you.

“You just saw someone touching your wife… I think we need to sell this better, I could feel him watching us all night.”

He breathed in deep, closing his eyes before they opened and he pushed you against the tree you just passed.

You couldn’t even take a breath before his lips crashed down on yours, his hand on the back of your hand, so he didn’t hurt you. He towered over you, his body pressed against your and you tried to suppress the moan at the feeling of his lips against yours but failed miserably. He used your surprise to dive his tongue into your mouth and your arms flew up to hold on to him.

“Dave…” you sighed.

“I’m right now playing a very, very fucking jealous husband sweetheart…” he groaned.

“Fuck…” you let your head fall back as his lip wandered down your neck. You felt his thigh between your legs.

“Is he still looking?” he asked, rubbing his thigh over your core.  You looked over his shoulder, seeing no one standing outside.

“No…” you gasped, rolling your hips. Fuck you were wet. He kissed you again, before he whispered against your lips.

“Good, then let’s go home.”

You were more than confused. As soon as you were back in the house, Dave let go of you and went to his room with a mumbled “Good night.”

You on the other hand were still trying to get your brain to slow the fuck down. You were undercover. This was all just an act. Right? Dave York was the best agent around and he knew what he was doing. You had to get your libido under control just because he kissed you once. Groaning to yourself you stripped off your clothes to take a shower. Which should only have taken a couple of minutes, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about Dave. How his lips felt, how his hands felt, how it would feel if he would push you against the wall and fuck you senseless.

“Fuuuck…” you moaned quietly, touching yourself, growing frustrated when you just couldn’t make yourself cum, knowing he was just down the hallway. Shaking your head you got out of the shower, drying yourself off, not bothering to change into your pajamas. You needed to cum. Getting out your vibrator your sighed, wondering how big Dave was when you opened the door and found the man in question sitting on your bed, looking at you with hungry eyes, asking:

“Need any help with that?”

[winterrose527]

but I've never felt this way for no one

for @simple-aphorisms who gave me this delicious prompt. apologies, I went full feral.

I got my driver’s license last week, just like we always talked about…

If he had to guess, he had heard the opening lines to that song roughly 40 bajillion times. Ever since it had come out over the winter, every party he went to devolved into a raucous, off-key chorus no less than three times as everyone stopped what they were doing to sing that song.

He wasn’t going to lie. It was, for lack of a better, less cringey word, a bop. The first weekend it had come out, he’d listened to it a fair bit. The first time he’d ever heard it at a party, was because he had been the one to put it on.

So he got it. Olivia Rodrigo was a talent. Possibly the next Taylor Swift, though that was a debate he never wanted to get into or hear again after the Great War between Sansa and Theon that had lasted for seven days and eight long nights.

That being said, nothing, and he meant nothing – not even the day her full album had come out and he’d come out into the living room to see Jon and Theon crying to Enough for You – had prepared him for this car ride.

He was sitting in the back seat of Myrcella Baratheon’s Range Rover, Grey Wind sprawled out on top of him. His sister Sansa and her best friend Myrcella were in the front seat, where they had been for the last three hours as Myrcella drove them all back to school from Winterfell, where they’d gone for the long weekend.

Of those last three hours… no less than 2 hours and 45 minutes of it had been dedicated to Olivia Rodrigo. The lion’s share of it to this song.

Now he considered himself a patient man. He was possibly alone in this opinion, but nevertheless he did. But on the thousandth rendition of red lights! Stop signs! He’d lost it.

Not his temper, his mind.

Because the thing was. Myrcella Baratheon was singing at the top of her lungs. Putting her little heart into it.

It wasn’t like she had a bad voice or anything. In fact, she had a beautiful voice. The first time he’d ever heard it he’d gotten actual chills.

The trouble was, this was a song about a break up. And he was fairly certain they were still very much together.

He had, after all, woken up in her bed that morning. And what they’d done after that had given him every indication that they were together.

The thing was though, that’s all he had.

An indication. A feeling.

Okay, a lot of feelings. A mess of them.

These were the facts as far as he understood them.

Early on this semester, around the same time this blasted song had come out, he and Myrcella had been at a party. She’d come with some girls from the Art History program, he’d been there with a few guys from his rugby team. Sansa was nowhere to be found, and neither was Jon or Theon.

He’d seen her from across the room, standing with a couple of girls, and crossed over to her.

Myrcella Baratheon was just the sort of girl you had to cross a party for.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, as though she’d been waiting for him all night.

“Where else would I be?” he asked.

“On the dance floor maybe,” she grinned.

“Doesn’t sound like me,” he grinned back.

And then her hand was in his, pulling it gently, her eyebrow raised, “Not even if I asked reeeeally nicely?”

So they’d danced. Things had gotten pretty messy. There was a sloppy dance floor make out, followed by a rather aggressive one up against the side of whatever house they were at. A cold walk back to his. His bedroom. Clothes removed. And then just her.

And ever since then it had sort of just continued on like that. They were always together, since her friends were his, and there were always more dance floors to make out on.

He and Myrcella had been having sex with regularity for the past two months, and as far as he knew, Myrcella didn’t do casual sex. But she was also the only girl in the known universe who didn’t press the what are we? talk.

Not only did she not press it, she seemed unconcerned with it entirely.

It was unnerving.

And now, here she was, singing her pretty little heart out to one of the best break up songs of all time with conviction.

“Sing it, Robby!” Sansa turned around.

“No,” he grunted.

Myrcella’s eye flicked to his briefly in the rearview as she banged on the steering wheel.

Sansa turned back around and pointed to a sign for a rest stop, “Oh can we go in there? I want a coffee.”

The last bars of the song played as Myrcella pulled in, dropping Sansa off in front of the complex.

“I’m going to fill up with gas,” she told Sansa who promptly ran inside and then glanced at him, “Are you going in?”

“So you can leave me here?” he asked.

She bursted out laughing as she drove to the gas pumps, “Well you have been rather grumpy but not enough to justify abandoning you on the side of the road just yet.”

Myrcella parked and turned off the car and he got out and slammed his door shut, undoing the gas cap.

“What are you doing?” she asked him. Suddenly she was next to him.

“You hate pumping gas,” he reminded her.

She was such a priss about things like that. It was so annoying and hot.

“You have a unique ability to be a complete ass and a total gentleman all at the same time,” Myrcella informed him, “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Not lately,” he growled. Watching the numbers go up. Ignoring her fresh face and her golden curls pooling out of the neck of her cream fleece. “Because I am not dating anyone else. Are you?”

“How would I be dating anyone else?” she asked him, “I mean just logistically in your brain how would that work? Do I have a time machine? Oh because if I did have a time machine I would definitely use it for sex reasons. Because I’m Theon. You incredible asshat.”

“What did you just call me?” he asked, angrily closing the gas cap.

“An asshat,” she repeated, “Meaning your head is so far up your ass you are literally wearing it as a hat!”

“Why are you singing the song like that?!” he growled at her.

She bit her lip, “Well, because it’s an incredible song.”

“Are you singing it about someone?” he asked. “You were near to tears on the last one!”

“Well maybe,” she brushed her fingers up his chest, “I was thinking how I’d feel if you ever decided you didn’t want to be with me. Though that was before this conversation.”

His hands went to her waist, pulling her towards him, slipping underneath her fleece and t shirt to her bare, warm skin.

“You called me an asshat,” he told her.

She grinned, her arms looping around his neck, “Well you’re acting like one.” She laughed, “And I must be one too, because even when you’re a total asshat, I’m pretty sure I love you anyway.”

“Baby,” he lifted her up, nuzzling his nose against hers, “I know I’m not perfect, but I’ve never felt this way for no one.”

She laughed. Cackled. Her head thrown back, exposing her creamy neck that he couldn’t help but kiss even at a gas station.

“You do realize you just quoted Olivia Rodrigo, don’t you?” she asked.

He hadn’t realized that. Apparently after 40 bajillion listens it had somehow just come out.

“Well,” he teased, “She is the next Taylor Swift.”

“Oh no!” she wrestled out of his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked as she came to them holding a tray with three coffees in it.

“We’re leaving Robb here,” Myrcella told her, “Say your goodbyes.”

“Myrcella!” he laughed.

“Why don’t you call Theon for a ride you reductive asshat!” Myrcella argued.

With that she started walking around the car and he chased after her, picking her back up and carrying her to the passenger seat.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m driving,” he told her, “You’re too worked up. You’re being a little crazy.” And then he kissed her cheek, “But uh I love you anyway.”

He felt her grin even though she rolled her eyes as she buckled her seat. Sansa got in the back and he went around to the driver’s seat and got in. It took him a few minutes to adjust the seat because his girlfriend was teeny, and he used the time to plug his phone into the USB.

“Do you know what the best thing about being the driver is?” he asked them.

“What’s that?” Sansa asked from the back.

“You get to control the music,” he informed her.

And as he pulled away from the gas station, and the opening bars of Driver’s License came on through his phone, Myrcella Baratheon leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He’d forgotten how much he truly loved this song.

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 7

Chapter title: Exhaustion

Word count: about 3300 words

Author’s Note: Thank you all for being so patient with me during the months this fic was on hiatus...but thankfully, the wait is over! I hope you all enjoy!

No warnings for this chapter, though it is pretty dark.

First | Previous | Next

...

The team had been working nonstop through the past several days, spending hours upon hours at different libraries throughout Westopolis and the surrounding areas. They never used the same one twice, so they couldn’t be traced. Hopefully.

Loading the full video and an explanation onto the three different USB drives they had bought took up most of that time, since it required a lot of formatting and download time and they couldn’t stay in any one place for too long. Rouge was the most talented with technology from her hacking experience, but slow Internet connections were something even she couldn’t work around.

Shadow really wanted to be a major part of the process, but his struggles with the video itself had posed serious issues for his involvement. While he had eventually been able to view the other part of the film, he’d still had a strong reaction and then needed an hour to decompress afterwards, all while feeling frustrated at (in his words) his “lack of self-control”.

Rouge and Omega were strongly opposed to that wording, since it suggested that his trauma- because it was trauma, despite his arguments- was something that he could control.

In the end, Shadow was often forced to take a backseat during much of the work, or else his mental state would be a mess throughout the rest of the day. He still helped out in any way possible, though, even if it was something as simple as going out to buy food to keep Rouge’s strength up.

Today was the final day. Team Dark was fully prepared to make a post on three of their main social media pages, and all three envelopes with the USB drives inside had been mailed out (under the false cover of being simple job application letters). They were headed to three different media organizations, which- while not necessarily mainstream- were at least somewhat reputable and sympathetic to their current cause.

While it was still unlikely that the general public opinion would change after this information release, there would hopefully be enough supporters for this to mean something.

At exactly 12:00 p.m. on Oceanic Standard Time, ten days after Team Dark had stolen their original files and fled capture by G.U.N., the videos were released out into the world for everyone to see.

At 12:01 p.m., OST, as the team watched from a public computer, the Internet basically exploded.

All three of the team’s accounts were flooded within seconds, ablaze with accusations, conspiracy theories, and more. The best were the expressions of sympathy and support, though. Those boosted the general mood in the room while providing the three with enough bravery to actually write back to a few people.

There were a few particularly vocal supporters who the team members recognized right away… it seemed that the members of Team Sonic had grown tired of sitting around while their friends put their lives on the line and were now channeling all of their frustration into their keyboards. The team’s morale only rose higher. (However, considering the depths they had been in before, this mainly meant that they seemed almost normal again.)

Through it all, G.U.N. remained silent.

The team decided not to stay at the computer for long- the organization was always watching and probably had some of their best hackers on the case already. Shadow grabbed a couple of books before they left, but none of them really even had the energy to read at this point. They’d spent so many late nights going over and over the wording of everything they would say and every move that they would make, and the replies they’d given just now were carefully considered by all three of them as well.

As soon as they made it back to the hotel, Omega whipped out his charging cord and shoved it into an outlet, and Shadow fell face-down onto the bed. “Oh chaos. Oh chaos we’re really in it now, aren’t we.”

Rouge sighed, sinking into a chair and massaging her brow. “Yes, we are. It's worth it, though.”

“I know.” Shadow muttered into the bedspread. “It’s just…” he trailed off, uncertain as to how to express his thoughts.

“...exhausting.” Rouge finished his sentence for him. “It’s tiring to work so hard on something, all the time.”

The hedgehog pointed a gloved finger at her briefly, before letting his hand fall back onto the mattress. “That sums it up perfectly.”

They lay there for awhile, just allowing themselves to rest after the frenzy of the past few days.

Eventually, though, Shadow forced himself to sit up. “So what are we doing next?” he asked, a frown set low over his eyes.

Rouge got to her feet, exhaustion weighing down her movements. “I think we should probably take a couple of days before we do anything else, hon. That was a lot of work.”

“I know,” Shadow said quickly, looking down at the mint-green sheets of the bed. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t working hard, I just-”

“I didn’t think you were.” she said gently. “I know you want to stop them as soon as possible, and so do I. But...we’re not in any shape to do much like this- being tired always makes people sloppy.”

Rouge smirked faintly. “I learned that one the hard way.” she mused, recalling a particular heist that she’d tried to pull off after going 48 hours without sleep. It had not ended well, to say the least. 

“I’m gonna head down to that restaurant we looked at earlier. I need food.” the bat muttered quietly. Omega gave her a thumbs-up as she walked out the door.

Rouge wandered through the town, looking around. She saw so many different people, all of them going about their ordinary lives, and reminded herself that soon enough, the world would be just a little bit safer for them to enjoy. This raised her spirits, if only slightly. Just enough that she felt like being a little more friendly to the (likely overworked and underpaid) workers in the restaurant than usual.

In fact, she suspected that recently when she had gone out to eat, she’d come off as almost as sulky as Shadow- constant work and paranoia really took it out of a person. Today, though, her work was temporarily finished, and she could take a deep breath with, if not relaxation, then at least a certain amount of freedom.

Rouge got her food quickly, but with a (perhaps a little too) bright smile and a cheerful wave. 

She left a sizable tip in the glass jar out front, all the while trying to ignore a little voice inside her head that whispered you should give that money to others, you won’t be needing it for much longer…

The bat hated trying to imagine just what G.U.N. was capable of, as well as the potential consequences of their actions. That was exactly why she spent the rest of the day relaxing in her room with Shadow and Omega, mostly reading or playing board games with them. As nice as it was to be able to relax and not obsess over sentences and file formats, they all missed being able to go about their ordinary lives, instead of having to control their every move in order to stay alive. She could feel it in the atmosphere of the room. 

Out of nowhere, Rouge felt the sudden fervent hope that Shadow’s motorbike and Omega’s weapons collection would be okay. She had seen the occasional picture of Club Rouge during her time spent working, and it was all cordoned off and dark and sad...she had made a lot of fond memories there. 

Whether or not some of those memories were of kicking particularly irritating patrons to the curb when their behavior went too far was entirely nobody else’s business.

Rouge hoped for another day or two like this before they had to do any more work- they needed it if they were going to succeed. Shadow had dark rings under his eyes and this was Omega’s first day in over a week where he hadn’t gotten a “power low” warning. If they tried to pull off the kind of heist she had in mind like this, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

The next morning, however, it became clear that Team Dark wouldn’t get that kind of luxury until their work was completely finished.

Allowing herself one quick yawn as she strolled downstairs (given that her fangs could appear quite menacing to those without them), Rouge traced a familiar path to the hotel’s breakfast buffet, planning to fill the gaping void that was currently her stomach.

Her shoes clicked across the tiled floor, irritating her tired ears, and the too-bright lights didn’t do anything to help her overworked senses. She seriously considered just going back upstairs and hiding under the covers for another hour or two, but the smell of pancakes and ripe fruit dragged her over to the long table that held the complementary food from the hotel. 

Filling her paper plate, Rouge began to think again about G.U.N. and the various...unsavory tactics she’d seen them use over the years. Often enough, the soldiers in particular were not above frightening or intimidating those groups of people they saw as ���threats’ while simultaneously politely cooperating with those that didn’t. While she did her best to distance herself from those kinds of people, filing a complaint would only get you a reprimand or even a hint that you might be fired. No real action was ever taken against those who had joined the force to hurt instead of protect.

She had seen, though, that the commander was definitely trying to make the organization a better place- the raid on Space Colony ARK had clearly left an impression- but that didn’t mean he was succeeding. Over fifty years of brutality, violence, machismo and deceit were not so easily rooted out, not even if the person trying to create change was at the very top. The bat had seen a few too many people being beaten mercilessly by a soldier long after they’d shouted their surrender to think that G.U.N. was all good. Indeed, fighting first and asking questions later was ingrained in the very foundation of the organization.

But whenever Rouge’s mind went down these pathways, there was one thought that always rose above the rest…

While she may have seen what they did, Shadow had lived it.

Rouge sighed, trying to control her violent emotions that always appeared regarding that particular event, and took another pancake. The poor hedgehog had dealt with so much already, and now this...she truly felt for him. They were constantly on the run, always trying to stay ahead of the entire military organization, and despite his status as the ‘Ultimate Lifeform’, she knew that he was struggling. Shadow would insist otherwise, of course, trying to carry the world on his shoulders as he so often did.

She knew better, though.

Rouge glanced upwards to get another look out the window, the general paranoia that came with being a spy too deeply ingrained in her body to ever fade. There were plenty of times when it was just a nuisance, if not embarrassing, but right now those reflexes came in handy.

That was when she saw the five G.U.N. agents talking to the receptionist out front.

She took a deep breath, standing very still at the table. Panic would not help her now. Rouge took two very deliberate, very slow steps to the side, obscuring herself behind a helpfully placed tiered food display. 

The bat caught a snippet of conversation. One of the agents was talking to the man at the front desk, asking, “Have you seen someone matching any of these three descriptions?”

The receptionist frowned, leaning in closer to study the photos, and Rouge decided it was about time to get out of there.

She put her plate down slowly, and then walked purposefully but calmly back to the stairs. Once she was sure that they couldn’t see her any longer, she beat her wings and began to fly up the stairwell as quickly as possible.

Once she got into their room, she slammed the door shut, catching Omega’s attention from where he had been constructing a paper-clip chain. Rouge allowed herself two deep breaths before rushing over to the bed and shaking Shadow’s shoulder with surprising gentleness.

“What do you want?” he mumbled, his eyes only half open.

The bat beat down another wave of nostalgia for relaxing weekend mornings (focus, Rouge, your lives depend on it!) and instead gave him a sad smile.

“They’ve found us.” she said, shattering her teammates’ relative peace in an instant.

Shadow practically catapulted himself out of bed. “G.U.N.? What? When?”

“Yes, five agents, and just now.” Rouge said, beginning to pack up their few belongings.

“What shall we do?” Omega asked, an almost staticky tone creeping into his voice. It had the effect of making him sound rather more dangerous than usual, which was probably intentional. “I would be happy to burn this building to the ground. Just say the word,” he said, revving up his flamethrower.

“No burning.” Rouge said, and it was evident just how used to Omega’s antics she was that this statement was delivered in a completely calm tone of voice. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We split up- there’s only so many of them there. We’ll get out of here any way we know how. Meet up at 9:30 outside that waterskiing shop. Got it?”

“Yes.” Omega and Shadow said simultaneously.

“Alright, good. Omega, take the suitcases. Let’s go.”

She threw herself out the window as Shadow teleported the robot down into a nearby alleyway before vanishing again. Her wings folded tightly against her back as she shot down the side of the building, her fingers nearly skimming across the steel and glass. Rouge forced herself to trust in her wings, snapping them out at the absolute last moment before she could hit the ground and hoping that nobody in any of the rooms had seen much more than a red-and-black blur.

She almost laughed to herself- that used to be Shadow.

Laughing wasn’t something any of them did much anymore.

She stalked through a dark alleyway before rushing down a couple of blocks, trying to get as far away from the hotel as she could on foot without being too suspicious. By now, G.U.N. would have realized that the team did not look like they used to, which would make it a lot more difficult to escape their notice.

Rouge spotted Shadow moving quickly several blocks down, and made an immediate left to stay away from him. There was still over an hour until their rendezvous time, and until then it was best to stay away from one another. A hedgehog and a bat together would only draw the organization’s attention. 

Rouge forced her legs to take one step in front of the other- she had to stay moving. The bat was...a little too used to pushing through exhaustion when simple survival was her only goal. Memories of having to hide after heists, constantly walking to nowhere just to stay away from the police surfaced vaguely in the back of her mind. Rouge was still tired from nights of obsessing and writing and rewriting with Shadow and Omega, and this new stressor wasn’t helping at all, forcing her back into the same introspective cloud that always surrounded her whenever important things started happening.

Yet at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to feel afraid of what could happen should she get captured. It was almost as though she wasn’t truly awake. She was worried for the rest of the team, it was true, but they were all already in such deep trouble that it almost felt as though she’d maxed out on stress.

As she walked, Rouge wanted to feel something more, some sense of a higher purpose to keep her inspired…

...but when it got down to the basics, change wasn’t always glamorous court battles or powerful arguments delivered to roaring crowds. Sometimes you just had to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until finally someone took notice and listened to what you had to say. It was tiny steps, day by day, almost like trying to grind down a mountain with a single stone. Despite being part of the catalyst, she couldn’t see any of the effects from here.

Was anything even changing? Rouge didn’t know.

She shook her head, trying once again to bury these thoughts in the back of her mind. This was just like a mission. Do the task, then think about the bigger picture afterwards.

The bat briefly wondered if this mentality was why the organization had gone downhill before forcing herself to focus. Right now, she needed to use her instincts. That was all.

…

After an hour, during which she had to hide behind a dumpster (in other circumstances, she would have laughed and called it cliche) to evade G.U.N. pursuit, she met up with the other two at the waterskiing store. Thankfully, Omega had managed to acquire a new car- their old one would have to be left back at the hotel and become more collateral damage, as much as they all wished otherwise.

They’d really liked that car.

Rouge and Shadow piled in, and the bat could only feel relief that Omega didn’t really get tired like they did, so at least there was low danger of someone falling asleep at the wheel. 

“We’re in the final stages now,” Rouge said encouragingly, trying to keep up morale. “Just this last heist to get more dirt on G.U.N., and then we’re free to do as we please…”

Shadow sighed. “I hope.”

“Perhaps…” Omega said cautiously, “...G.U.N. will get so busy with lawsuits that they will cease pursuing us after that. Their public image is...somewhat important.”

He didn’t sound like he believed his own words, though.

Rouge, feeling tired, had to practically beat her nagging thoughts off with a stick by this point. What if they never stop, the voice whispered. What if they just keep coming and coming until you give up because you’re just so tired of running-

“Rouge.” Shadow said quietly. “Are you doing the overthinking thing again?”

“What, hon?” she asked, feeling underequipped to have any conversation, let alone one about herself.

“The thing.” Omega called from the front seat. “Where you insist upon shouldering all of the burden simply because you’re the self-appointed team leader. That is not allowed in this car. At all.”

The bat smiled faintly. Even after all this work and exhaustion, they were still worrying about her. That kind of thoughtfulness was enough to relax her a little, and she leaned on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Let’s talk about stupid stuff for a little while.” she said firmly. “We should talk about something like, like- when we went to that one restaurant and Shadow ate like three bowls of their five-alarm chili in twenty minutes and won that T-shirt.”

Shadow smirked briefly. “It didn’t hurt at all and Sonic and Knuckles yelled at me for being a cheater. Having specially bioengineered taste buds has its perks.”

They reminisced about the good times, all three trying to keep the mood light and not discuss the elephant in the room (or car, as it were)- which was of course when they might be able to do that sort of fun thing again.

And then they were on the highway, and headed to what was hopefully the last place G.U.N. would ever expect them to be.

Central City.

[varnienne]

Shattered Reality - Year 1, Part 1

A/N: Finally got around to finish editing this. I know I said I'd work on the Pokemon Crossover project (and I am, concept drawings and the outline are a WIP) but I think it's better I have at least a few different projects to focus on at a time.

That being said, I hope you guys enjoy my story.

TW: brief references to PTSD and grief, I think that's it?

Her eyes snapped open.

Heavy breaths echoed in the room as a scream died in her throat. Soft ticking penetrated the haze first. Moonlight glinted off of the four-star ball. Its familiar energy caressed her aura. Avoca focused on that feeling. Took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She absorbed the soothing blues of her bedroom walls as she kept breathing. Training clothes folded on the nightstand. A picture of her family hanging by the clock. Its glowing hands reading three fifty-seven.

She sighed. No point trying to sleep now. Tossed her covers off and swung her feet around. Avoca grabbed her training clothes as she stood. Started changing, completely dressed when her door opened. She glanced one way. Then the other. No one but her was up. Thankfully.

Trudged her way down the hall and out the front door, steps carefully soft. The deep violets of early morning kept her hidden as she walked across the field. She stopped in front of a rounded door.

“Open, please.” Air hissed out as it unlocked. Slowly, it fell open, turning into a ramp. She tapped the close button as she passed the frame. The second the door resealed, Avoca called out to the system. “Gravity on, level 275.”

She moved into stretches as the weight settled on her body. Deep breath in, an arm raised into an overhead block. Deep breath out, it was slowly switched with a punch from her other hand. She glided through every new movement, aura swirling around her like a gentle tide.

“Increase the gravity to level 290. Training bot level 3,” she called out to the room's control system.

[Commencing…]

Her body became heavier and she tensed all her muscles before relaxing again. One foot slid back and the other moved to the side. Her brother’s feet wavered as she stepped next to him. Set a shaky hand on his shoulder. Her arms rose into a loose block as small orbs floated in. Light swirled through their seams alerting her to their activation. Together they fell into a familiar stance. They could do this. They could end it. She formed a ball of red energy in her hand and smirked. Avoca sent her energy at the nearest bot.

“Give me what your daddy couldn’t.” His aura expanded as the blast grew. “Before I send you home to him.*”

She snarled at the creature. “You’re reign ends now.”

Her blast ricocheted from it onto the others, passing her every chance they could. She let her body take over and forced her mind to fall silent. Years of honed instinct kept her movements fluid as she danced around the blast. The snickering monster was distracted with a blast to his back. Avoca noticed. “Now, brother!” She added another ball to the fray. They gritted their teeth, planted their feet, and forced out everything they had. Another command to the system had the gravity strengthening to 310.

As she created a third energy ball, the door opened. “Avoca-nee?”

She jumped and released the ball as she turned, but the bots took advantage and aimed all three blasts at her. Growling, Avoca twirled, tail unwrapping from her waist to bat them into the walls. She commanded the system to shut off and whirled back to her brother.

“Gohan, you know better than to come in here when I’m in the middle of my routine!” The younger Saiyan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Avoca sighed. “Just be careful next time, okay?”

He glanced away and scratched his cheek. Her heart lurched. Gohan looked just like their father doing that. She sighed and asked him why he’d come to get her. “I wanted to make sure you'd have time to get ready for your first day.”

Shit. Had she gotten too caught up in training? It wouldn’t be the first time. “What time is it?”

[The current time is six, twenty-two…] echoed through the room.

“Oh, good. I have time to shower.” The Saiyan girl thanked her brother as she rushed down the hall. Maybe school could keep her memories away for a while.

~oOo~

A week earlier, on the other side of town, a team of teachers were chatting as they waited for the principal. He’d called an impromptu meeting so early some of them were still yawning. One person, in particular, was curious why Nedzu would call him in. He wasn’t even done with his teacher certification yet.

The tired heroes perked up as the being in question finally joined them. In his paws was a red USB that arrested everyone's attention. Its implications sobered them immediately.

Nedzu maneuvered into his seat at the head of the table and smiled. "Good morning everyone! I'm sorry to call a meeting like this on such short notice, but I've been informed that one of our new admittees is… quite powerful."

He paused to plug the drive into the table's display input. The places in front of the staff members lit up with the school logo before showed a fierce young brunette with determined amber eyes. There was a hardened light in her gaze that told of her experience in battle. Her hair was noticeably thick and spiky, much like the furry tail around her waist.

"This is Son Avoca, publicly registered as Midoriya Izumi." The lightness in Nedzu's tone vanished. A conflicted look took over his face. "She is one of the two children responsible for ending Perfect Cell."

Toshinori's heart dropped. She was so young and had already been exposed to such horrors. He'd known the two who'd stopped the creature were a bit young, but he wasn't expecting children. She was barely fourteen.

"From what I understand, young Gohan will also be attending UA in a couple of years." The screen changed to show an even younger boy with black hair just as spiky as his sister's. Though his expression was a bit softer, the same determination reflected in his eyes. "He'll be going to a nearby middle school until then."

Toshinori frowned. If these kids were so powerful�� "How come we hadn't heard of them before the Cell Games?" The abilities they displayed both with and without the aid of their quirks was unbelievable. Most kids their age had nowhere near the amount of training they surely must've had.

"They were living out in the mountains in the southern district. But they have been mentioned in the news before." At this, Nedzu's nose twitched. "Had Miss Son- Miss Midoriya - not mentioned it herself, I doubt even I would've noticed the connection."

The principal pulled up an infamous headline from eight years ago.

Throat dry, Toshinori glanced around at the other teachers and found them just as pale as he felt. He returned his focus to the files. The more he read, the more questions he had, a pit growing in his stomach with each one. The hows and whys swirled in his mind until Nezu spoke again.

“I know you all have questions. I do too.” His smile returned. “I've organized an interview so we may learn more about Miss Midoriya and perhaps find some answers.”

“Wait.” Present Mic frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I don't recognize her. Did she not take the entrance exam?”

Nezu's smile became strained. “The Hero Commission was quite insistent about her attending our school.”

Oh. That explained a lot. It also brought more questions Toshinori wasn’t sure he wanted answers to.

~oOo~

Looking at her reflection, Avoca turned. The skirt was a little short on her with how curvy she was starting to get. At least they were allowed to wear leggings underneath it. The blazer was a nice neutral grey to compliment the greens of the skirt and lapel stripes.

Her gaze caught the papers sitting on her desk and the brunette frowned. All the important papers she needed to verify her "new identity." Any reference to their father or their role in the Cell Games was conveniently left out. But they'd made note that Principal Nezu and her teachers would be aware of who she was.

Ugh, the regulation and hidden identity were like some twisted witness protection program. More like monitoring persons of interest. She shook her head to force those thoughts from her mind.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see her brother in the doorway. His pink checks and twitching tail made her smile reassuringly at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, couldn't tuck it in comfortably…"

Avoca giggled. "I had the same problem when we were younger. Here," pulled the band of skirt down. Lifted and resettled her tail. "Wrap it just under the waistband and don't wear a belt." Watched her brother do as told. Gave him a small smile when he didn't look back up. Patted his shoulder. "It'll be fine, brother. We just have to play by their rules a bit." Gohan merely sighed.

He was dressed in his own uniform. The black slacks and blazer looked good on him. She ruffled his hair and laughed at his protest. He'll make friends easily.

Which reminded her… "You remember the names we've been registered under, right?"

The boy nodded. He didn't like having to hide their identities. She didn't either. They were children of Earth's former protector. Maybe they wouldn't shout it from the rooftops, but it's not like anyone would think to look into their father’s past. It wasn't out of shame, but it felt like they were hiding their father.

"Well, let's get going." Avoca sighed and grabbed her backpack. "We don't wanna be late on our first day."

"Yeah."

She nudged his shoulder. He nudged her back. They joked and played as they walked out. She laughed.

Avoca had hope that whatever adventure lay before them, it would be one full of memories.

~oOo~

*TeamFourStar reference. I believe this is from Episode 60 Part 3?

Buy the writer a Coffee

[fangirlinsweden]

Noticing ~ Part 2

Part 2 ~  Valentines Day and Mission accident (February)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Swearing, frustrating Steve, kind of angsty sometimes.

Wordcount: About 2000 words

Summary:  Y/N is in love with Steve, but she is afraid to tell him. So she tries to show him by using Cheesy Pickup lines. Will he ever notice her?

A/N: This is written for @buckysmischief​  Gab’ s 1k writing challenge.

This takes place after Endgame, But Steve did not leave the future. Nat and Tony are still alive.

Almost all pickup-lines are lines I have found on the internet. Some I have adjusted a bit to fit the storyline more.

It was Valentine's Day and you were feeling kind of blue. You wish you had someone special in your life. Someone to spend the day with. Your friends all had someone, well, Bucky and Steve were single as far as you knew, but you had not dared to ask Steve how he was spending Valentine’s day. What if he had a date? That would have killed you. Bucky, Steve and Sam had been away on a mission since the start of the month, but you knew they had come back the night before. It was early in the morning and you were pretty sure that nobody was awake yet. You walked over to your desk and pulled out the card and small gift you had gotten for Steve. How you wished that you had the guts to hand it to him, but there was too much on the line. You needed this family. Steve was not the kind of person who would be cruel if he turned you down, but you did not know if you could take it. You opened the door into the hallway and looked around. You did not see anybody so you crept down the hallway to Steve’s door and there you lay your Valentine's Day gift for him. When you turned around you saw Nat standing there with a big smirk on her face. Of course, you thought. You put your hand to your lips and walked back to your room. 

A couple of hours later you walked into the kitchen. Wanda was making waffles for breakfast and the whole team was gathered for it. It was her valentines day gift for the team. She had a big goofy smile on her face and when you looked at Sam, he had the same expression. It was nice to see your friend so happy. Steve walks in with blood-red roses. You feel your heart starting to bet faster. Who were the roses for? He walks over to you and hands you a rose. “Happy Valentine's day, Sweetheart,” he smiles at you. You thank him and then he does the same for the entire team, even the boys. It makes your heart plummet. You were like anyone else in the team. Maybe you should stop this hoping and try and get over your feelings for Steve. You were pretty sure that Fury could give you a long mission if you asked him. Someone undercover and away from Steve, until you could get a grip over your feelings. Nat looks at you and she must see your mood because she gives you an encouraging smile. Steve comes around and sits down next to you. He gives you a big happy smile and you can’t help but return the smile. Wanda serves the waffles and everyone is enjoying them and having a nice time. You smile and look around on your family. This was the best Valentines Day you had ever had. 

Steve walked over to Bucky after breakfast.  “Thank you for the artbook,” Steve smiled at Bucky. “I a grateful that you thought about me today.” Bucky looks at him strangely.  “I did not give you anything,” Bucky tilts his head to the side. “Wasn’t there a note?” “No, that was why I thought it was you,” Steve admitted and scratched his neck. “You know for every year I been without a Valentine.”  “Looks like you have a secret admired,” Bucky commented. “Let’s go to the gym and work of Wanda's waffles. Steve nodded absentminded and wondered who could have given him the book. Probably Sam or Tony who wanted to mess with him, is what Steve comes up with. Either way, Steve appreciated the gift and intended to read it soon.

The day goes by fast and in the evening you heard your friends go out on their respective dates and you looked down on yourself. You were dressed for the movie night you were planning to have alone, that meant your short comfortable hot pink shorts, a black tank top with the Disney Castle and the text ‘You don’t like Disney? You Need to bibbity bobbity back the fuck out of my life‘ and a pair of fluffy socks. You did not want to watch romantic movies or a Disney movie, no, you planned on watching horror movies. Anything from you thinking about Steve out with some lucky woman. When you can’t hear any more people around you open the door and walk out in the hallway.  “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you play my ‘Guilty Pleasure Playlist’?” you smile to yourself. You were going to make the best out of being alone. “Of course, Y/N,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered and ‘Your Body Is a Wonderland’ with John Mayer started to play. You danced your way to the kitchen singing along with the song, feeling a lot better now. Still dancing you open the refrigerator and pull out the wine you put in earlier in the day. You take it out and twirl around dancing. You continue to dance to the counter and get down a wine glass for you. The Chorus comes on and you sing loud “Your body is a wonderland, Your body is a wonder (I'll use my hands), Your body is a wonderland.” You put the glass beside the bottle and twirl around. Leaning against the end of the counter was Steve, dressed in a pair of sweats and a tight t-shirt. He had a big smirk on his face and you feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?” He asks tilting his face to the side.  “I am singing about your body,” you say quickly. Steve starts laughing. You turn your back to him to gain your bearings again. You had not meant for that to come out.  “What are you doing home?” he asks when he stopped laughing. You shrug your shoulders.  “Y/N,” Steve squints his eyes at you. Not wanting to tell him that you had turned down a couple of men when they had asked you out, you pointed to the glass of wine.  “I am having a quiet evening with a glass of wine, some popcorn and a couple of movies,” you say and start getting the popcorn ready. “What are you doing home?” “Almost the same as you,” Steve answered, but was holding up a book. It was one you had recommended to him, which made you smile. You did not dare to ask him why he did not have a date. “But since you are watching movies, can I join?”  “Of course,” you get out. Hopefully not too excited or too indifferent. “What are we watching?” he asks and walks over to the fridge to get a beer out.  “Whatever you want,” you say, not really feeling up to watching horror movies anymore.   “I still have a lot of Disney movies on my list,” Steve takes out his phone and so you can see what he has left. It turns out he had not been watching any movies without you. “Why don’t you choose?” “Hmm,” you sound and start thinking about what you want to see. “This is hard.” Steve smiles at you. “Whatever you choose, will be great.” You decide to watch Hercules to start with. Steve seems to think that is a good idea as well. You are sitting on the couch together, kind of close. Steve seems to like the movie and you turn to him. He looks at you. “I'm sorry I didn't get you a box of chocolates for Valentine's Day, but if you want something sweet, I'm right here,” you smile at Steve and he smiles at you.  “Cute,” Steve says and presses a kiss to your forehead. You sigh as he turns his attention back to the popcorn and the movie. Well, at least you get to spend Valentine’s day with him, even if it was just as a friend. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the end of February, the team was on a mission to take down a Hydra base. Nat and you were inside the facility getting information from the computers, while the rest of the team was scattered around fighting Hydra agents. The information was important though it was thought to have the location of more Hydra facilities. Nat and you found the computers and went to work. You inserted the USB-drive that Tony had done to extract all the information from the computers before wiping them. Nat swore under breath and you knew that you would not be alone in the room for long. So you stood up ready for a fight. In came six Hydra agents. Nat took the three on the right and you took the three on the left. You both shot two each at the same time and they fell down on the floor. Your third one shot at you but missed. Your fist connected with his face and you brought your gun out to shoot him when there was a hit to your head from behind. How had you missed the agent? Your vision became blurry, but still, you keep fighting. You shot the agent in front of you and turned around to take care of the agent behind you only to find a knife to his chest. You looked at Nat and she smiled. “Thank you,” you said and sat down in front of the computers and saw that the USB-Drive was finished, so you pulled it out.  “Nat, we are good,” you say and hold up the drive. You put it in the secure pocket in your catsuit and stand up. There is blackness around the edges of your vision and you swear. The hit to your head had been worse than you thought. You run a hand through your hair and feel something sticky at the back of your head. When you pull your hand out of your hair and look at it you see blood. That was not a good sign.  “Y/N,” Nat says at the same time as Steve runs into the room. You take a step forward and everything turns black.  

You wake up and are staring into those blue, blue eyes that you love, but the eyes were not happy and sparkling. They looked serious. You want to make Steve smile so your first thought in your scrambled brain is to flirt with him.  “I must have crossed eyes because I can only focus on you,” you beam up at Steve before you make a grimace of pain.  “I think you might have a concussion,” Steve said and lifted you up.  “You know, my legs work,” you pointed out. Steve just shook his head.  “Not taking any chances,” Steve mutters.  “Y/N, you fainted,” Nat says, taking two guns from Bucky. When did Bucky come into the room? You snort.  “We got your back,” Bucky says as Steve leaves the room. Your mind is not quite grasping what is happening around you and you feel the blackness trying to overtake you again. “Steve,” you mumble and Steve looks down at you as he keeps hurrying out of the Hydra base against the Quinjet.  “Y/N, you need to stay awake,” Steve hurries on his steps even more.  “I am sorry,” you mumble and the blackness overtakes you again. 

Steve feels Y/N get limp in his arms and he is scared.  “Bucky, Nat,” he says and looks at his friends. Together they run to the Quinjet. Nat and Bucky are looking around them so they did not miss any Hydra agents. Sam was flying overhead doing the same. When they come to the Quinjet, Steve lays Y/N down and starts pacing. Nat walks over to him and puts a hand on his arm. “She will be alright. Bruce is looking at her now,” she says softly to him. Steve nodded. Of course, she is going to be alright. “Steve,” he hears Y/N voice say and he turns around. She is sitting up and Bruce is doing something with the back of her head. He walks over to her and sits down next to her. “Hey,” he says. She smiles at him and takes her hand. They sit there together not talking.  “You have a wound in the back of your head,” Bruce say and Steve sees the blood on his fingers. “I will tape it up and then Dr Cho can stitch it up when we get back to the compound.” Y/N nods and looks down on her hands. Steve knew she did not like needles.  “I will be with you the entire time,” Steve Said and kissed her forehead. It made you relax.

~ *~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~

Noticing Taglist: @jessyballet​ 

 Taglist is open

[gra-sonas]

The Soldier and the Alien

Pairing: Malex, Alex Manes/Michael Guerin

Words: 4.2K | Rating: T | On AO3

For @beamirang​ who asked for Fictional Kiss Prompt 12: a hoarse whisper “kiss me” | eternal thanks to @insidious-intent for the beta!

Warning: Mentions of Michael drinking a lot/being drunk in the past. He sought help and is already better when this story takes place, though.

🎖️💚👽

Michael fell sick on a Wednesday. 

It was an ordinary day. There were no threats, no fights, he hadn’t even seen anyone in two days. No one knew why or how it happened, or how it was even possible. He’d been working on the alien spaceship console in his bunker until late the night before, trying to figure out whether a different looking piece of iridescent glass he bought from a contact on the Dark Web was part of it, but when he woke up the next morning, he felt like crap. 

Max came by, but his attempt to heal Michael with his powers turned out to be fruitless. Isobel insisted on calling Kyle, who in turn consulted with Liz. The two were now working in Liz’s lab at the hospital in an attempt to figure out what had caused Michael to catch what seemed to be a common cold. 

He couldn’t breathe because his nose was stuffed, his throat felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper and his entire body hurt. He was lying on his bed in the Airstream, wrapped in three blankets and a sleeping bag because he was so cold. Cold! He’d never been cold in his life. Like Alex had pointed out correctly, Michael does run hot.  

Alex. Thinking of him caused an entirely different kind of pain to flare up deep down in Michael. He sighed. Alex had always been fond of Michael’s human-shaped heating blanket qualities. 

Isobel dabbed at his forehead with a wet cloth and it made him shiver. She didn’t look confident if this was in any way helpful or would speed up Michael’s recovery. 

“Do you feel any better, Michael?” 

Michael’s eyes were closed and his voice was merely a croak. 

“Not since you asked me just five minutes ago. I’ve never felt so terrible in my life. And I’ve been hungover a lot. What is going on with me, Iz?” 

“I don’t know, Michael. Liz is working on your blood samples. I could call her again?” 

Michael blinked his eyes open to looked at her, but even though it was dim inside the trailer, the light made his eyes hurt. 

“Why don’t you drive over and see how far they’ve come? I’ll sleep for a bit.” 

Isobel looked down at him. 

“Are you sure? What if you need something and I’m not here?” 

“I have my phone, Iz. I’ll text you in case I need anything.” 

Isobel got up and reached for her handbag. 

“Okay, but really try and get some sleep, Michael. I’ve heard it helps when people are sick.” 

Michael closed his eyes and nodded, his breathing slowly evening out. 

Isobel took one last look at him before she left the trailer and walked over to her car. Liz better had some results, seeing Michael look sick and small in his bed made Isobel’s heart clench painfully in her chest. 

-- 

Michael had been asleep for a while when he woke up from someone knocking on the door of his trailer. His first impulse was to open it with his mind because he could barely speak, but of course he didn’t. Instead he tried to answer. 

“Come in, door’s open!” 

He was prepared to get up and shuffle over to open the door because there was no way the person standing outside could’ve heard him, but he was spared the effort.  

The door opened and Alex climbed up the steps and entered the Airstream. Michael’s breath caught.

Alex was without his crutch, and he was carrying something that looked like a picnic basket on his right arm. Michael had a hard time keeping his eyes open, but he still took his fill of looking at Alex.  

He was wearing black jeans tight enough to leave very little to the imagination, a forest green v-neck Henley that put his chest hair on display, and a black leather jacket. He was also wearing Ray Bans he took off once he'd closed the door behind himself. He put the basket on the kitchen counter before he stepped closer and squinted at Michael, his eyes only slowly adjusting to the lack of light inside of the Airstream.  

“You look like shit, Guerin.” 

Michael snorted. 

“Thanks, guess my exterior matches how I feel.” 

Alex face softened a little when he heard Michael’s rough voice. 

“Wow, you really are sick. I thought Isobel was joking when she called earlier and asked me to make a sick bed visit.” 

Michael attempted a shrug, but Isobel had wrapped the blankets around him so tight, he had very little room to move. He nodded instead. 

“Yes, I’m really sick. You shouldn’t come any closer, I might be contagious.” 

Alex came closer regardless, until he was right by Michael’s side.  

“I went to war, Guerin. More than once. I can handle a cold.” 

He reached for Michael’s forehead and pressed his flat hand against it. It was cool and although Michael was cold and shivering, it felt heavenly. Alex’s eyebrows drew together in a concerned frown. 

“Seems like you’re running a fever.” 

Michael shook his head. 

“We run hotter than the average human, are you sure it’s a fever? Besides, I’m freezing. I can’t even feel my toes anymore.” 

Alex turned around and rummaged in one of Michael’s drawers. When he returned to the bed, he lifted the blanket pile, reached for Michael’s legs and put woolen socks on his icy cold feet (it was a pair of socks Michael had bought for Alex years ago, after he’d complained how cold it was in the trailer when he visited Michael while he was on leave). Afterwards, Alex was careful to tuck the blankets around Michael’s feet properly and Michael felt a little less cold already. 

“Thank you.” 

Alex smiled at him and walked over to the kitchen area. Michael’s eyes hurt, so he shut them and just listened to Alex taking things out of the basket. He heard the clanking of pots, then the snick of a lighter when Alex turned on the gas stove. 

Michael dosed off for a while. 

-- 

When he woke up from his nap, he forced his eyes open and looked around the Airstream. Alex had made himself comfortable at the table across from the kitchen unit. A laptop was open in front of him and he was scrolling through something on his screen. When he heard Michael shift, he looked up. 

“Hey, how do you feel?” 

“Still like crap but a little better, I think?” 

Michael noticed steam coming from a pot on his stove. 

“Are you trying to burn down my trailer, Private?” 

Alex chuckled, got up and moved over to the stove. He took the lid off the pot and stirred. 

“I’m making soup. It’s my mom’s recipe. She used to make it when we were sick, and we were usually back to normal the next day. Maybe it’ll do the same for you. If not, you’ll at least eat something that will be easy to swallow.” 

Warmth spread through Michael. No one had ever taken care of him like this. Not that there had ever been a reason for it, he’d never been sick after all. But now that he was, Alex was here. Even though they weren’t on the best of terms at the moment.  

Too much happened. First Caulfield and the immeasurable loss of that day, then all the shit that went down with Noah. Followed by Max healing Michael’s hand against his will, and Michael playing guitar for the first time in a decade. Feeling a moment of peace in all the chaos, before the pain of Max’s death had ripped through Michael like a knife. 

He’d been a mess afterwards, and for much longer than it took them to bring Max back. He still doesn’t recall what happened during some of that time because he’d been drunk out of his mind for most of it. Until one day he’d realized he’d have to face his demons and claw his way back into the world of the living. Today, it was over three months since he last had a drink. 

Alex didn’t know about that, though. They’d barely been in touch since the night Max brought Rosa back. That fateful night when Michael went to the Wild Pony and Alex’s best friend let him kiss her. The night Michael had ruined things between him and Alex for good. In his desire to make the pain stop, he’d not only hurt himself worse, he’d also hurt Alex. 

Alex had left Roswell shortly after hearing about him and Maria. According to Liz, the reason he’d left in his car had been to “take care of important Project Shepard business”. It had kept Alex from Roswell for a couple of weeks, according to Liz longer than planned because Jesse Manes had been kidnapped from the hospital and Alex had worried about Flint’s and possibly at least one of his other brothers’ involvement. 

When Michael had heard that Alex left town, he’d ignored the part about Project Shepard, though, and given into the righteous anger bubbling up in him because “leaving’s what Alex Manes does best.” At the same time, it had felt like the most vital part of Michael had finally died, the part that still had hope. The part that had always made him believe that there was still some good in the world, and at least one man on this godforsaken planet worth living and fighting for. 

Needless to say, he hadn’t taken it well. The downward spiral he’d been on since Caulfield had turned into a bottomless fall. He’d barely managed to keep his job at the junkyard, and they probably would’ve been able to bring back Max earlier, had he not decided to drink himself into oblivion on a daily basis. 

Until one day, he’d received an envelope in the mail. It had contained a USB stick and a detailed note in Alex’s neat handwriting, telling him that Alex was on a mission to shut down Project Shepard for good, that he’d found another facility where more aliens had been held captive by Jesse, and that he was currently busy relocating them somewhere safe, but he wanted Michael to have all the relevant information he’d uncovered so far.  

Michael had stared at the note with wide eyes, his inebriated brain unable to process most of the information in Alex’s letter. He’d plugged the USB stick into his computer to see what Alex had sent him. He’d skimmed through some random files first, feeling oddly detached when he looked at numerous elderly faces of people, who were very likely also aliens. When Michael had opened the first picture in a folder labeled MARA, though, he'd felt like watching Caulfield burn to the ground all over again. 

Mom! 

Michael’s first instinct had been to drink until he’d be able to forget, but then he’d clicked through the entire folder. Looking at pictures of his mother from 1947, when she was as young as he remembered her from that one magical moment in Caulfield, was what brought him to his knees. 

He’d dropped to the floor, his body wrecked by hard sobs, and he hadn’t been able to calm down for a long time. He had no idea how much time had passed, when he’d finally managed to sit up. He’d sat on the cold floor of his lab, arms curled around his legs, head placed on his knees. He’d gotten up from the floor eventually and dragged himself to the bathroom, where he’d stared at himself in the mirror for the first time in months. 

He’d barely recognized the man staring back at him. And not just because his eyes were blood-shot and puffy from heavy drinking and crying for hours. He’d looked awful. Thin, almost haggard, his hair unwashed and much longer than he preferred, his clothes tattered and stained. 

It had been a cruel awakening for him. In that moment, he’d realized he'd hit rock bottom, and if he didn’t manage to pull himself together, he’d likely drink himself to death, alien physiology be damned. He’d also realized that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this on his own. 

If someone had told his teenage self (or even his adult self, prior to Max’s death), that one day he would call Kyle Valenti and ask for his help, Michael would’ve dismissed it as utter bullshit. But that’s what he did, because he knew that neither Isobel nor Max were equipped to give him the help and support he'd need. 

Kyle had been nothing but kind and professional about it and monitored his detox closely. Even when Michael had tried to rile him up when the pain of going through withdrawals had been almost blinding, Kyle had kept his composure and treated Michael like he’d treat any of his patients. 

Three months after that fateful day in his lab, Michael was doing better. He’d put the weight he’d lost back on, he was working more regular hours at the junkyard, and at Kyle’s insistence, he saw a therapist several towns over two times a week. Even though it bothered him that he could never reveal the whole truth to her, he understood that - regardless of the fact that she didn’t know that he’s an alien - talking to her was a vital part of his recovery.  

Which lead Michael’s train of thought back to the here and now, and the fact that Alex Manes was currently in his trailer, cooking soup for him. Right now, Michael wasn’t physically able to hold a longer conversation because of his sore throat, but he knew they had to talk.  

“Why did you come here, Alex?” 

Alex looked at Michael. 

“I told you, Isobel called. She told me you were sick and asked me to look if you were ok.” 

“You’re making me soup.” 

Michael couldn’t see it clearly, but it looked like Alex blushed. 

“Well, it’s what you do when someone’s sick. You make them soup.” 

“What else?” 

“You make them tea. Read them a story. I don’t know, whatever keeps them warm and makes them feel better.” 

“I’m buried underneath a pile of blankets but I’m still freezing. Looks like you’re not doing a very good job at keeping me warm.” 

Alex snorted. 

“What do you expect me to do, Guerin, come over and climb into bed with you to warm you up?” 

“Good idea.” 

Michael had overused his voice and he started coughing. 

Alex grabbed a bottle of water and walked over to him. He helped Michael sit up and take a few sips. Michael hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. It was painful to swallow, but drinking water made him feel better. 

When he had enough, Alex took the bottle and put it within reach on the floor beside his bed. Then he handed Michael a small bottle of acetone. Michael hesitated. 

“I don’t use acetone anymore.” 

Alex looked surprised. 

“You don’t? Since when?” 

“Since you sent me the USB stick.” 

It seemed to dawn on Alex what that information implied. 

“That can’t have been easy. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you looked through those files.” 

Michael closed his eyes. It still hurt to think of Caulfield, of his mom, but the pain no longer threatened to tear him apart. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Kyle told me some of the things you’ve done for me, for us, over these last few months. That can’t have been easy either. Working against your own family.” 

“You are my family, Guerin. I know you don’t believe me, and that you only associate me with pain and misery, but for better or for worse, you are my family.” 

Michael swallowed hard. It hurt, and not just because his throat was sore. 

“I do believe you, Alex. I’ve been working on myself while you were away. My therapist and Kyle’ve helped me to put a lot of things into perspective.” 

Before Michael could continue, his body was wrecked by another coughing fit. Alex stepped closer and rubbed soothing circles across Michael’s back while Michael tried to catch his breath and grabbed for the bottle of water. Alex pulled out his phone and tapped away on it while Michael took tiny sips of water until the urge to cough subsided. When Alex’s phone beeped with a notification, Michael looked up. 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, it’s from Kyle. He tells me that I can give you some acetone for medical reasons.” 

Michael was still hesitant. 

“It’s ok, Michael. He says as long as it’s just one sip and you don’t down the entire bottle, it will help you with pain relief, but it won’t put you back to square one.” 

Alex uncapped the bottle of acetone and handed it to Michael. He took a cautious sip and sighed in relief. His throat and head didn’t hurt as much all of a sudden. Instead his stomach rumbled. 

“Thanks, Alex. It helped. When do you think the soup will be ready?” 

Alex smiled. 

“Should be ready by now. I’ll get some for you.” 

Alex filled the soup into a bowl and brought it over to Michael. Since his throat was currently not killing him, he was able to eat without pain. He couldn’t taste anything, but the soup was warm and his stomach stopped rumbling eventually. Alex returned to the table where he ate some soup himself. When he came back over to Michael to take the empty bowl from him, Michael managed a somewhat suggestive smirk. 

“How about you’re telling me a story now, Private?” 

Alex walked back over to the kitchen area and put Michael's bowl in the sink. He turned around to Michael.  

“What kind of story do you want to hear?” 

Michael pretended to think for a moment. He knew what he was about to say may very well blow up in his face, but he had to risk it. 

“Uhm, how about the one where the soldier and the alien are madly in love with each other and figure out a way to be together?” 

Alex walked back over to Michael. Michael scooted into the corner of his bed and offered Alex a place to sit.  Alex didn’t sit down though. Instead, he leaned against the opposite wall of Michael’s cot and looked at him with sad eyes. 

“I thought there’s only the one where the soldier and the alien were madly in love, but somehow they both managed to fuck it up?” 

And there it was, the rejection in the form of a Past Tense that hurt so fucking much, Michael struggled to breathe. He closed his eyes when he felt tears pricking at them and he considered feigning another coughing fit so Alex wouldn’t notice that Michael was falling apart on the inside right in front of him. 

When Michael had finally decided to get his life back in order, he’d made an effort to sort through his complicated feelings for Alex with the help of his therapist. He’d learned to differentiate between his unwavering love for Alex Manes, and the pain connected to all the back and forth they’d gone through over the course of a decade. At some point, he’d allowed himself to hope that Alex and him would find a way back to each other one day. 

The logical thinker in him understood that it may be too late, that he’d let Alex walk away one too many times. (This was something his therapist had pointed out to him: yes, Alex had left him more than once – oftentimes he didn’t have another choice, though, the Air Force didn’t treat deserters kindly - but Michael had also never gone after him when Alex could’ve stayed. They'd both used unhealthy coping mechanisms, they both had abandonment and trust issues several miles deep. Unraveling their behavior had helped Michael claim half of the blame, and even though it had been hard to admit his mistakes to himself, it had also made him feel lighter). 

The emotional part of Michael had refused to give up hope, though. 

The realization that it was indeed over, hurt more than anything. When Alex talked again, it startled Michael and he blinked his eyes open. 

“The thing is, the soldier is actually still madly in love with the alien and would love nothing more than to figure out a way for them to be together. If it’s not too late?” 

Alex’s voice was soft and his expression unsure. His hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Michael’s heart fluttered in his chest and all the pain inside of him evaporated for the moment. He made a grabby hand gesture at Alex and Alex slowly sat down on the edge of Michael’s bed. 

“Alex, the alien wants that, too. I want that. You have no idea how much I want for us to give it another shot.” 

He ran out of breath, and tears he couldn’t hold back any longer started streaming down his cheeks. He flung himself forward towards Alex, who caught him and wrapped his arms around Michael in a tight embrace. 

“I’ve got you, Michael, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” 

A pained sob escaped Michael’s mouth and then he collapsed. Physically and mentally. He cried and cried and cried, interrupted by painful coughing fits, but the tears just wouldn’t stop falling. Alex held him the entire time, his shirt soaking up most of Michael’s snot and tears. He didn’t seem to care. He continued to rub soothing circles into Michael’s back and whispered his affirmation to stay into Michael’s ear over and over. 

After a long time, Michael’s body couldn’t take the dual strain of crying and coughing anymore. His tears dried up eventually, but Alex kept rubbing Michael’s back in an attempt to further soothe him. When Michael’s breathing slowed down to a normal speed of in and out, Alex pulled the bottle with acetone from his pocket, uncapped it, and encouraged Michael to take another sip. 

The urge to cough faded and Michael sank back onto the bed, utterly exhausted. 

He blinked at Alex, his eyes puffy and red. 

“I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d ruined it all and that it’s too late. Alex...” 

“I know, Michael. Me too. You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out to you since I came back a while ago, but Kyle kept telling me to wait. He didn’t give me any details - “doctor patient confidentiality, Alex, you know what that means” - but I understood that you were doing something for yourself, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. You deserve being better like no one else. I won’t lie though, staying away and giving you space has been harder than serving three tours.” 

Michael shook his head. 

“And I thought you hated me, that I had finally managed to destroy the one good thing in my life for good.” 

“Michael, please. We both made mistakes, big and small, and too many of them over the years. We’ll talk about everything when you’re feeling better, not today though. You’re exhausted.” 

Alex bent forward and placed a kiss on Michael’s forehead. 

“I’m just so grateful Iz called me earlier and asked me to see you,” he whispered. 

“Me too.” 

“You should sleep, Michael, you can barely keep your eyes open anymore.” 

Michael closed his eyes for a second while he held onto Alex’s hand. 

“I’m afraid that when I fall asleep, you’ll leave and I won’t see you for another three months.” 

Michael sounded and looked so small when he confessed what seemed to be his biggest fear, and it almost ripped Alex’s heart out. 

“Michael, please look at me.” 

Michael blinked his eyes open, his pupils were blown wide in the twilight of the trailer. Alex took Michael’s hands in his and looked into Michael’s eyes. 

“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. That’s a promise. You have me, Michael. For as long as you will have me and even beyond. I’m yours and you are mine. We’ll figure out the details later, we’ll talk, we’ll talk some more, just, whatever it takes to make this work. I want to be with you, and unless you tell me to go, I won’t ever leave you again.” 

Alex caressed the side of Michael’s face, and Michael nuzzled into the touch, his eyes falling shut. Alex ran his other hand through Michael’s sweat-damp curls. 

“How about I’ll now take you up on your invitation to warm you up?” 

Michael’s eyes flew open and he nodded. He shuffled over into the corner of his bed to make space for Alex. Alex got up, opened a drawer across from the bed and pulled out one of Michael’s sweaters. He stripped out of the soggy green shirt he was wearing and pulled the soft sweater over his head. Then he sat down and unlaced his boots to take them off. He didn’t take off the prosthetic, but he adjusted his jeans and socks to ensure the cold metal was covered, before he climbed into bed with Michael. They were facing each other and Michael managed a small smile. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here. I’ve missed you so much.” 

Alex searched for Michael’s hand underneath the blanket, and when he found it, he laced their fingers together. 

“I’ve missed you, too, Michael. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” 

Michael didn’t manage more than a hoarse whisper when he asked: “Kiss me?” 

And Alex did.

[sincerelymarinette]

A Recorded Life (19/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 2149 Chapter Summary: Adrien knows how to sneak around without his father figuring out,  and helps Alya and Marinette out with something. This leads to stories, and the fans get a little crazy. What could make this day even better? Author's Note: this one's a little longer! Lots to fit into this part before the chapter >:) I love writing this story sm

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Disastrous Live Stream

---

Only a few days after the experience at the Agreste Mansion, Adrien finished a photoshoot early and managed to convince Gorilla to take him to Marinette's house. Gorilla, though he wouldn't admit it, was an enabler and loved to see Adrien having friends his own age and enjoying his extra time. It was a nice change from having Adrien cooped up in the mansion all day. Gabriel would never blame Gorilla either, if he ever found out.

Nathalie knew about his "extra free time" but pretended she had no clue what was going on with Adrien. She also enjoyed that Adrien had friends, and he was having fun outside of work and his clubs. Gabriel barely noticed anyway, and Adrien could usually pass an extra hour or two as his activity for the day running over.

Marinette, Alya, and Adrien were sitting on the floor in Marinette's bedroom, watching the uncut footage from Adrien's MTV Cribs joke video. Of course, Marinette did cut out the end, in case anyone were to find it. She was going to respect Adrien's and Gabriel's privacy and get rid of what they told her to. Though, she did keep the rest of the video on a hidden USB drive, in case she needed blackmail for anything.

"Oh, you cut out the end already?" Adrien asked when the video ended.

"Just wanted to be safe," Marinette shrugged.

Alya raised an eyebrow. "What happened that you cut out?"

"His dad essentially threw me out," She said. "He didn't like that we were running around his house with a camera."

Alya's jaw dropped as she held back her laughs. "And I thought he liked you!"

"Not anymore," Marinette giggled.

Cutting off the conversation, Alya's phone alarm went off. "Oh my gosh! I completely forgot!" Alya gasped. "We posted that you would be doing an Instagram Live at four o'clock today!"

Marinette looked confused, but then she gasped as well once she remembered. "We did, didn't we? I don't even have anything prepared to talk about!"

"Don't fret, girl. I have emergency interview questions stored in my phone, and in my head. Give me your phone, and we'll pull this off," Alya calmed Marinette and took her phone. Alya hooked the phone up to the computer so Marinette could see the comments and see herself, and in only a few minutes, they would start the live stream. "Adrien, do you want to be in it, too? People always love it when you're doing things with us."

Adrien checked his phone for the time. He still had over an hour before he needed to be home, so his father would not be suspicious. "Sure, I'd love to," Adrien said as Alya pointed the camera at Marinette.

"Great," She smiled. "Going live in twenty seconds."

Alya counted down from five on her fingers, and Marinette smiled wide once the people started rolling into the stream. "Hi, I'm Marinette!" She greeted. "We're trying something new today, if you can't tell. We are doing our first prepared live stream!"

"And we say prepared as we kind of forgot about it," Alya turned the camera on herself. "But being the master journalist that I am, I am always prepared for things like this," She nodded, and turned the camera back around.

Marinette giggled at Alya. "And, we have Adrien here!" She introduced. "I know how much you guys love him."

"While we let some comments and questions roll in, I'll start off," Alya said. "Marinette, what have you been working on design-wise?"

Marinette thought for a second. "A lot of Jagged Stone covers. They're non-stop. I've got a few in their final stages, so hopefully we can release one soon!" She said. "But other than Jagged, I'm working on some more simple pieces of clothes for the main channel, some just to watch, some for tutorials. It's going to be a fun-filled couple of months," Marinette smiled as she finished her answer.

"The covers are looking amazing. I can't wait for them to come out," Adrien added.

Alya asked a few more YouTube and work-based questions as the fan comments rolled in to ask more personal, juicer things. "First fan question: How's school going?" Alya asked.

With a shrug, Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. "It's school, it's boring, but we're getting through it. We start hearing back from universities soon, and that's exciting. We just had a project, and Adrien and I were paired together, and we will never do another project at his house again," She laughed, Adrien nodding along.

"Can I ask it?" Alya mouthed and pointed to a particular question. Marinette gave a small nod, knowing she needed to really address it. "Marinette, are you and Chat Noir dating?"

Marinette sighed. "I addressed this on Twitter, but I know a lot of you probably didn't see it. I am very single; Not dating Chat Noir, not dating Adrien, not dating anyone," She said. "They're both terrific friends, and I value having them in my life, but I really need you guys to stop harassing them about this," Marinette finished.

"And you don't know Chat Noir's identity, right?" Adrien added.

"Right. I have literally zero idea of who he is," She clarified. "We're friends, but I would never want to invade his privacy like that," She put on another smile as she wanted this question to end badly. "And with that, we are done talking about who I'm dating, or secret identities."

Alya looked for another comment that wasn't relating to Chat Noir. "Ooh, someone thanked me for the fanfiction video. You're welcome; I give the people what they want."

"That video was scarring," Adrien shivered. "I think I blacked out during a few of them."

"That's partially what made it so good!" Alya evilly laughed, and quickly deferred to another comment. "What was the project about that you two worked on?"

Adrien put his hand up to answer. "It was a classic history project. We researched a period of time and made a presentation on it. It wasn't too boring, and we finished it really quick- then we made a video that may forever stay in the archives," He winked. "And then we decided all future projects would be done at Marinette's house."

She nodded. "I think that was the most embarrassed I've been in a long time."

Alya groaned as she read more comments. "Guys, stop asking about Chat Noir," She dragged out the end of his name. "Marinette doesn't want me to give her those, but that's like eighty-percent of the questions," She laughed. "She doesn't know who he is- oh, here's one. What happened at the Agreste Mansion that you guys will never do another project there?"

They both burst out laughing. Adrien was laughing too much, so Marinette decided she would tell the story. "We did our project, totally normal. Then we started filming a video of Adrien showing me around his room, but he was using a bunch of different characters," She began the story. "We ran out of room to film, so we went into the hallway. Long story short, his dad was not too happy with me chasing his son around with a camera- let alone even have a camera in the house."

"Then he told me to go practice piano and that it was getting late, so Marinette needed to leave," Adrien finished. "Man, it was so embarrassing to have your father get upset with you...and your friend," He shook his head. "He did the same with Nino once, when Nino tried to throw me my first birthday party. And that was the same day Nino got akumatized!" Adrien shook his head. "Classic dad."

Though the three of them didn't think much of the story, the fans sure did. As Alya continued to ask questions, fans in the comments were getting riled up.

honestly fuck gabriel agreste

hold on...adrien's FIRST birthday party?? how did he never have a party? what??

cancel gabriel agreste for being mean to the two best people in the world

he...kicked marinette out...for having fun?

I mean I get the whole camera thing but seriously? cancel him

he got nINO AKUMATIZED?? RIOT

#LetAdrienHaveFriends

so does this mean i should return my gabriel clothes

Marinette could see the comments coming through on her computer. "What are you guys talking about? Gabriel Agreste? I'm not mad about the whole situation; it's actually pretty funny. Don't take it so seriously," She chuckled, and they moved on.

After a few more questions, it was nearly impossible for them to find any that didn't relate to Gabriel Agreste or Chat Noir. "Maybe this is a good spot to end at," Marinette said. "I don't want you guys getting riled up, so I think it's time to stop the live stream for today," She concluded. "But! Thank you guys so much for watching, even if it got a little crazy at some points, but I appreciate all that could make it!" She began her outro- but was cut off by loud noises coming from outside. All three of them stood up to check the window, but before they could even get a glance, the roof of Marinette's room was pulled off and thrown across the town.

"What the-!" Adrien cut himself off, back in French.

"Oh my gosh, perfect for the Ladyblog!" Alya set Marinette's phone down and grabbed out her own. "You guys go hide, I've got to get this!"

Adrien grabbed Marinette's hand and pulled her down the steps. They both rushed into the bakery to make sure Marinette's parents were okay. "What happened? Are you guys okay? We saw Alya sprint out of here with her phone," Tom asked as he pulled both of them into a hug.

"Akuma took off with my roof," Marinette said, trying to figure out how she would get out of this so she could transform. "We should probably evacuate...who knows what the Akuma is after."

Adrien pulled out his phone. "Looks like he's after my father," He sighed. "And me, if he can't get him. Well, I should head back to the mansion where I can be isolated- Father is currently at the airport for a business trip," Adrien explained. It was true that his father was at the airport outside of Paris, but Adrien would not be going home.

"You can't leave!" Sabine said. "It's not safe out there, Adrien. Maybe wait for Ladybug or Chat Noir to see if they can help you," She suggested.

Adrien didn't know how to respond, but he tried to think of anything he could. "No, no. I don't want to attract the Akuma here to you guys. I can run really fast, and I know how to get around without being seen. I used to evade my work a few years ago," He chuckled as he walked towards the door.

"I have to go use the bathroom!" Marinette announced, and before her family could protest, she took off through the door, right past Adrien. She found a secluded alleyway and called for Tikki, and in a second she was flying above the buildings.

Adrien looked out the window. "Oh, look! There's Ladybug!" Adrien said, and rushed out the door as well.

"What are we dealing with?" Chat Noir asked as he landed behind Ladybug on a roof, watching the giant Akuma heading towards the Agreste Mansion.

"Akuma after Gabriel and Adrien Agreste. This guy really loves to cause Akumas, huh?" She said. "Haven't really figured out why he's after Mr. Agreste, but I guess we'll find out."

Chat Noir focused on the giant man. The way his face was shaped and the way he spoke was all too familiar to Adrien. "Looks like a photographer that works for the Gabriel brand," He said. "He was probably fired."

"A photographer?" Ladybug asked.

"We've been over this Ladybug; I keep up to date with the fashion industry. You aren't just casually into fashion," He laughed and started jumping towards the Akuma, Ladybug following close behind.

Once they were close enough to confront the Akuma, it was clear this Akuma was not going to be a simple takedown. Just by screaming their names, the two were blown off their feet and set across the ground until they crashed into a wall. Blinding flashes were coming out of his hands, and his voice was loud like being amplified by a microphone. It was going to be difficult to even get near him as he rampaged through Paris.

"I don't even know how we would approach him," Ladybug thought out loud.

"Maybe see what Lucky Charm gives?" Chat Noir suggested.

She thought about it, but was unsure. "I don't think we'll be able to defeat him in five minutes, though," Ladybug confessed.

"If you have to, you run off and recharge. Never hurts to try," Chat Noir reminded her.

He was wrong.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries

[prorevenge]

You okay the project for the whole team? Great turn it in to the professor tomorrow

Tl/dr; Kids in group project don’t take having a real life client seriously, 1 fails, 1 fails and doesn’t graduate, and 1 goes from A to C and screws up GPA.

  Enough of the Backstory, here are the characters, obviously no where near their real names:

Matt - Professor

Client - Store owner

Damien - Project Partner

Jeff - Project Partner

Kirk - Project Partner

Barry - Me

      The SPRING class in this story was a Implementing Business Computer Systems class. For the yearly project we had a real life client that our school volunteered the students for Pro Bono work of small business in the area. We were seniors, so we are trusted with the clients work as it is oversaw by our professor. This is a big step and I, for one, am excited. I had been doing nothing but working as a Bartender/Server in a fine dining restaurant and having my head in books learning how to code with barely any time to do much else - this was an opportunity to get a taste of the real world we were about to embark on.

      The project started out fine, we all drive thirty minutes away to meet our client. A wonderful woman that owned a small floral business and she was paying 1-800-flowers to sell her product for her, which came with a website itself and a HUGEEEE price. This lady was also in her 60s and by no means fluent in computer - this is important for later. We talk, find out she wants a new website, her contract with 1-800-assholes ends in the summer. No pressure, we will be able to finish the web site and give it to her by the end of the semester, if not earlier. This will give us time to teach her what is needed and what to do so that she can maintain and run the website by her self. Afterwards we delegate the tasks, and since I have the most extensive background in coding and computers, I volunteer to learn how to create this website for our client as long as Damien, Jeff and Kirk work on the other parts of the project - the user guide and the technical documentation. For our client, this needed to be extensive so that she would be able to post her product on the website with an easy transition.

      As we weigh our options over the next week, we come up with some proposals to the client and we set a meeting to go over these on a Tuesday - the day everybody is the most free in their schedule - the following week. Sunday - Jeff says he can't make it, Kirk quickly responds and says he can't make it either. I say its cool, Damien and I will be able to make it. Monday - Damien says we should reschedule because now he can't make it. I say no, I will go by myself we shouldn't cancel on the client - no biggie, I understand things come up. As the project went through the semester, I am killing the website. I have a working e-commerce store integrated with the stores paypal, i have a shop tab, and a featured page for in season flowers. I ask about the documentation and the user manual and I am told by the all three of them that they are working on it and will have a rough draft for me soon to check out. Cool, No problem. Time to show the client the product to see if she wants any changes or if we should just continue creating this website for her; we set a meeting with the client on a Tuesday a week or two in advance and everybody says that is okay.

      Same song, different story. Sunday - Jeff says he can't make it, Kirk quickly responds and says he can't make it either. I say its cool, Damien and I will be able to make it. Monday - Damien says we should reschedule because now he can't make it. "I say fuck no, this is a client. You don't do that to clients." So I hop my ass by myself to drive 30 minutes to meet our client. I show the Client the website and she client is happy with the product and asks us to continue and she is excited for the finished product.

      How our weeks are set up is in such a way which they start on a Wednesday and end on a Tuesday. So the last day of classes are on a Tuesday. The school then gives an extra free day that Wednesday for a "Study Day", then the exams schedule goes Thu-Fri-Sat || Mon-Tues-Wed. I am sure you can infer what students do on that Tuesday before study day. Fast forward to the end of the semester, I still haven't seen any documentation or user manual and it is due on the class' exam day, which is the first day of exam week. So a week before it is due I am told I will have the documentation and user manual in my hand before our meeting which is at 12PM that study day - Wednesday. I receive a email at 11PM on Tuesday as I am getting off work and I see that is the technical documentation and the user manual. i open it up, promptly get pissed, turn off my laptop, play some xbox and pass out before midnight. The reason being, technical documentation was 1 page and did not contain anything about the Database Schema used, the website language, the paypal information, the emails registered. Just the URL and some other information that wasn't important and was half a page long. Remember how our client was in her 60s? The user manual was 1 and a half pages long and, I shit you not, contained about 5 sentences and 3 pictures with an arrow. 0 explanation on how to use the website.

      Come to the meeting at 12pm, I show up and wait about 5 minutes. I then text everybody asking where they are at, no response. I start looking over how to fix the user manual since I obviously have to start over. While I am working on it, I haven't said anything and then Damien walks into the room.

  D: "Did you get the docs?"

Me: "Yeah. You guys really think this is finished?"

D: "Oh yeah, it should be good to turn in."

Me: "Idk, I think we should add a little more, this is for our client, she won't understand this. Where is Jeff and Kirk?"

D: " ahhahaha We all got fucked up last night after finishing up the documentation, they are probably still passed out. Also, I'm turning it in tomorrow, if you want to do anything else go ahead, but whatever I have I am turning it in. I think its ready to turn it so I won't be doing anything else, I have other classes to study for. I already have an A in this class so it doesn't matter to me and Kirk and Jeff have A's as well so they don't care at all."

      Perfect he said the magic words and then he left with a flash drive. I immediately went upstairs and told my professor, Matt, everything. I said I don't want to leave my client hanging, yes my client, not ours. Matt said that he completely understands and even commends me for wanting to stay on top of everything and not give our client a bad taste for our students. He then asks why. I simply stated, "What you are about to receive tomorrow for 'our' project is completely unacceptable. It is unfair for us and for our client to leave her hanging." I showed him the website, which he likes and then I showed him the user guide and technical documentation. I asked for an extra week to finish the documentation and user guide - as I had a plan for what it should be and needed time to create it all. Matt said absolutely, but forget about the documentation. You obviously know what is in it, just focus on the client. So I created user videos with dictation, drove to the client and showed her how to use it all, where to find the videos. I even created a program that had all the videos inside so she could have it on her desktop and the program pulled up the video of her choice for whatever she needed help with with some buttons so she wouldn't have to search folders for the videos. I gave her my contact info and said I'll be here over the summer if she ever needs help with the website or has any questions and I can swing by.

    After all of this happened and afterwards I gave an update to Matt who also had an update from me. Apparently he almost failed the rest of my group because they turned in their project by slipping an unmarked USB drive under his door. He only accepted it after they emailed him asking him if he received the USB. Matt also called our client to verify my story of the fact that they never showed for client meetings and the client told him I was the only person that has been showing up. Hearing this from other people, anybody in my group that had A's in the class leading up to the project got a C, anybody with a B in the class failed. Damien's GPA was screwed up from this class as it was a 4 hours class. Kirk and Jeff both failed and Jeff wasn't allowed to graduate and Kirk had to retake it the next semester even though he wasn't graduating. My grade which was an 84 before the project was bumped to an A. The next year Damien asked how I did in that class because he was confused about his final grade, and I simply said I did fine, received an A. He has no idea the reason why. Don't f*ck with me and my grade and I won't f*ck with you.

(source) story by (/u/sw1mm3r202)

[lovehugsandcandy]

Perfect Day  (Rafael x MC, OH)

A/N: This was a request from @cpt-indigo, who wanted “Rafael x MC, road trip.” I really hope you like this. Thank you so much for SUCH a fun request; I had a lot of fun writing this for you and I really hope you enjoy. I am so so so sorry it took so long. Eternally grateful to @akrenich for editing, fixing my comma addiction, and keeping me honest as I step outside my comfort zone.

Pairing: Rafael x MC, OH

Length: 2,735 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing? But like, minor swears?)

Summary: Casey and Rafael do not sell seashells by the sea shore. They do a lot of other things though.

Tags: I took everyone off tags because I think ya’ll want a Colt story and this is not a Colt story and I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t want to spam anyone.

There was another knock at the door, the second one in less than three minutes, and Casey swore under her breath, digging under the couch cushion.

“I’ll get it!” Sienna bounced by and Casey jumped on top of the couch to grab her. They were the only two awake in the house and Casey knew she should let her roommate open the door; she didn’t want to wake anyone else up. But she just… she wanted to answer the door, to be the one to greet him. She just needed her goddamned keys.

She glared, balancing on her perch on top of the couch, finally letting go of Sienna’s arm. “Do not get that door. Do not touch that door. Give me a minute.”

Sienna stared at her, starting to edge away, slowly walking backwards, as if Casey was a wild animal about to pounce.

“Okaaay...”

Casey dove off the couch and continued her search. "I just need a minute." 

“Does this mean you don’t want the cookies?”

She looked up from behind a cushion. “You made cookies?”

Sienna laughed, sauntering to the kitchen. “Right now, I think Rafael deserves them more than you.”

Casey groaned and reached; finally, she felt metal at the tips of her fingers, just a little further— got it. “Thank God!” Clutching the keys, she ran to the door and pulled it open. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Rafael smiled at her,  impossibly handsome as always. 

“Come in.” Casey smoothed down her hair. With the lost key fiasco, she forgot that she was nervous but now, at the sight of him, the familiar butterflies were back. They always seemed to reappear when he was around; she couldn’t tell if they were drawn in by his courage, his honesty, his love for his family, or his devotion to the community. Or maybe it was the wave in his hair, the quirk of his lips when he smiled, the jacket that hid the t-shirt that hid the muscles. Crap. Casey really liked him.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go? I can give you more time.” The quirk of the lips was back, a half-smile that she just wanted to kiss.

She shook her head. “I just need to get my bag.”

“And the cookies!” Sienna reappeared, chocolate chip cookies in hand, enclosed in tissue paper, red ribbon giving them a festive touch. She handed them over with a grin. “Hi, Rafael.”

“Oh wow, are those for us? Thank you!”

“You need road trip food!”

Casey grabbed her backpack, pulling Sienna in for a hug. “Thank you, you are the best and I love you.” Dropping her voice, she whispered, “I’m sorry if I was mean about the door.”

Sienna laughed. “No sweat. Now, shoo, go have fun.”

With one last wave, Casey grabbed Rafael’s hand and pulled him out to the street, squinting into the sunshine. He opened the car door for her and she threw her bag in. “Thank you, good sir.”

He smiled at her, eyes soft, leaning into a bow before climbing into the driver’s seat himself.

“Do we have everything?” His hair caught the morning light, a soft glow that brightened his features. Casey already thought he was an angel but now he looked it, too, halo of light around his head as he sat in the driver’s seat. 

He caught her staring and she blushed, clearing her throat. “I think so...Playlist?”

“Double check. I have two.” He held up his phone.

“Phone charger?”

He pointed to the USB cord between them.  “Check.” 

“Twizzlers?”

“Ch- wait what? That seems like an unhealthy choice for a doctor...”

She swatted his arm. “I can’t go on a road trip without Twizzlers! Also, these, obviously.” She opened the cookies, handing one over.

He took a bite, one arm on the steering wheel. “Ready to go?”

Casey pulled open the GPS on her phone. “Let’s go, Superman,” She had never been to Cape Cod, hadn’t been to many places in Massachusetts, but Rafael had been nothing but generous with his time, showing her around Boston, taking her in a helicopter, even introducing her to his grandmother. She was excited to see another landmark in the area and even more excited to be doing it with Rafael by her side.

“Oh my God, it says two hours!” Apparently, they were not the only ones headed down the Cape on a beautiful day. “You know, this would have been 15 minutes in the helicopter.” 

“The helicopter is also only used for medical emergencies.”

She batted her eyes at him. “But what if the emergency is that I really want to go to the beach or I’ll die?”

He shot her a wry grin before lacing their fingers together and kissing the back of her hand. “Well, maybe we can find you a paramedic to save the day.”

“Make it a handsome paramedic and you’re on.” She gave his hand a squeeze, wondering if this was what total contentment felt like.

~~~~~

The drive took a long time but for Casey, it seemed to go by in a flash. She and Rafael talked and laughed and ate junk food and bickered over music and she stole kisses when they were completely stopped. She didn’t think she would mind if they never got out of the car.

Finally, the GPS directed them into the parking lot, rows of cars between them and the most gorgeous beach she had ever seen in her life. The sand stretched to the left as far as she could see; on the right, above the rocks and crashing surf, a clam shack stood, a few seagulls squawking around, looking for morsels.

“Oh, I love it!”

He ducked his head. “My family used to come down here sometime in the summers. We would drive down and spend the day in the sand.”

She paused, watching him. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” She liked the idea of him as a child, building sandcastles in the sand. She liked learning even more about him, every small piece of his past. She grabbed his hand, leading him down to the beach, past sunbathers and laughing children to snag a prime piece of real estate.

“Does this look good?”

“This looks great,” Rafael spread out a huge sheet, weighting down the corners with bags and shoes.

Casey wiggled her toes in the sand. “You came prepared!”

“Paramedics are always prepared!” He looked affronted.

“I thought that was the Boy Scouts.”

“Maybe Boy Scouts are just juvenile paramedics.” He grabbed a tube from his bag. “Sunscreen?”

“If you’re offering.” She relaxed under his touch, relishing his strong hands as they massaged her neck, arms, back. “Have I mentioned how amazing you are at that?”

A shy smile. “Maybe a couple times.”

“A couple million times, now get over here, you.” She grabbed the sunscreen from him, applying a generous blob to his nose, then his back. “I can’t have my Superman getting sun burnt.”

T-shirt off, he was every bit the hunk that the nurses talked about. She grinned to herself, gliding her hands in slow circles down the muscles of his back, feeling his sides twitch when she hit a sensitive spot. Sure, they all knew how handsome he was. But she was the only one who knew his heart, the goodness that emanated from every pore of this man. They could look all they wanted; she was the one who got to stand next to the hero.

“Did you want to go in the water?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Race ya?”

“Ok, su-” He trailed off as she sprinted away. “Hey! Cheater!”

Casey laughed; she could hear footsteps behind her but she didn’t dare look, didn’t dare turn around and lose momentum. She was so close. So. Close.

“Aaaahh!!” Strong hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her off the ground as she laughed and laughed and laughed. He swung her around, grinning ear-to-ear. 

“You cheated.”

She couldn’t stop laughing, burrowing her face in his shoulders as he carried her further into the ocean. Oh no. She could see where this was going. “Wait....wait...” She was laughing too hard to get the words out.

“One...two...THREE.” Rafael swung her, trying to toss her into the water, waist-deep now.”

Casey held on, tight, arms wrapped around his neck for dear life. He tried to throw her but couldn’t and they both tumbled into the surf. When Casey emerged, wiping water from her eyes, tasting salt and sand, Rafael stood over her, water dripping from his hair, droplets sliding down his face.

“Casey?”

“Yeah?”

“I won.” He grinned as she sputtered at him. She couldn’t stay mad long and wrapped him in a hug, his warmth warding off the chill from the water.

“Hey, Rafael?”

“Yeah?”

She kissed his cheek, then cupped his cheek for a chaste kiss, salt and happiness on his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming up with this idea. For showing me this place.” She shrugged. “For being you.”

He held her close, one kiss fading into the next as the water lapped around them.

~~~~~

They walked down the beach, collecting seashells and swapping stories. They went back in the water when it got too hot, body surfing and splashing each other. They hung out on the sand, sharing a pair of earbuds, using them as an excuse to lie close. When they got hungry and ran out of cookies, Casey looked down the beach. “Wanna hit the crab shack?”

“You read my mind.”

Together, they packed up their things to put into the car then walked hand-in-hand to get lunch. After five minutes of indecision (both the lobster roll and the fried clams looked amazing), Rafael wisely broke the stalemate.

“You get one, I’ll get the other, and we share?”

Casey had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss his nose. “You are a genius.”

Both of the options looked better than they’d thought and Casey’s mouth watered as they sat at one of the picnic tables. The surf crashed behind them, the sun was high in the sky. Casey had amazing food in front of her, an amazing man next to her. Was this heaven?

“Ok, let’s split it.” He grabbed half of his lobster roll, sliding it on her plate, while she did the same with the clams. “I’ll get more napkins.”

He made it three steps when disaster struck. Casey would have screamed if she had more time to react but, suddenly, there was a commotion above her, around her, flapping wings and squawking cries and then? A violent robbery.

She was covering her head, trying to protect herself from the aerial assault, but they were everywhere. Rafael ran back the three steps, waving his arms around, trying to get the seagulls to disperse. He was yelling or laughing or both at the same time; she didn’t know. All she could do was duck and laugh.

By the time he had chased them away, they had stolen all her fries, most of the clams, and half the lobster roll. She frowned as she trudged back to the line, trailing behind Rafael, gripping his hand, warm and solid in hers. “Stupid seagulls.”

He laughed, arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “You know they can sense weakness, right? They knew you would leave the food undefended.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Weakness? I’ll show you weakness!”

He dodged her hands as she lunged, trying to tickle him into submission, fingertips gliding under clothes and over smooth skin. They were laughing so loud that the woman at the counter had to yell “NEXT!” six times before she got their attention.

~~~~~

“I am so full!”

Rafael opened his book next to her. “I told you it was good.”

She sprawled out, utterly content. “I’m totally going to go walk it off.”

“Really.”

“Uh huh. After maybe just one tiny nap.”

He laughed, running his hand through her hair, lightly pulling on the drying curls. “Sure thing, Sleeping Beauty.”

She was going to respond, she really was going to, but she was so full and the sun was so warm and the salt in the air was so relaxing that when she opened her eyes again, she was shocked to see that he wasn’t next to her anymore and the sun had moved across the sky, changing the angles of the shadows along the sand.

“Huh? Rafael?”

She looked up, shielding her eyes. He was standing up, looking intently into the ocean.

“Rafael?”

He didn’t seem to hear her, started walking away, when a sharp whistle, three blasts, made her jump. Rafael started running, sprinting to the water as Casey sat up, still groggy. There was a commotion, a yelling, a lifeguard running into the water, Rafael hot on his heels.

“Oh crap.” Casey jumped up, scanning the water, trying to see what they were looking at. She followed, but couldn’t see anything out of place. Another lifeguard, barely a teenager, sprinted by her with a huge plastic stretcher, and Casey realized she had to move.

She followed, racing to the edge of the beach, hand shielding her eyes. She couldn’t see Rafael anymore, almost started yelling for him, when there was a splash, more splashes, and a yell and there he was, he was swimming, then carrying someone, a woman, unconscious, out of the water. Crap.

“Quick.” She grabbed the stretcher, putting in down on the sand for a stable surface. “Rafael, here!” She screamed and waved to him, relieved when he headed her way, moving carefully, cradling the woman’s body, the other lifeguard trailing behind her.

It was like being back at work, the efficiency with which they moved. He lowered the woman onto the stretcher as Casey knelt, two fingers to her neck, ear to her mouth. “No respiration, no pulse.”

Rafael dropped to the ground, ready to step in, but Casey waved him off. “No, you just saved her. I need fresh arms. You.” She pointed to the lifeguard, who cautiously came closer.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Get over here. You’re on chest compressions. Rafael, get an ambulance here.”

Rafael and the other lifeguard took off, back towards the beach, as Casey turned towards the lifeguard. She originally thought he was in high school but, up close, she wondered if that was an overestimate. How old could you be before you could work? Jesus.

“Do you know CPR?”

“Uhhh...... I mean, I took a class.”

Casey took a deep breath. “I give her two breaths, you do 30 compressions. Right here. Count out loud.”

The lifeguard was turning green. Crap. 

“Hey. We can do this, ok? You ready?” She rubbed his shoulder, trying to transmit some of her calm.

Finally, the lifeguard met her eye. “Ok. We can do this.”

“Good.” Casey tipped her head back, carefully, and delivered two slow, steady breaths, watching the compressions. “One and two and three and-”

All she could do was breath and count and hope that, this time, it would be enough.

~~~~~

She heard the siren wail, the ambulance weaving through the parked cars to get to the street. Rafael wrapped his arms around her waist. “You ok?”

“Yeah...” She let her head drop on his shoulder. “I hope she’s ok.”

He nodded, eyes distantly gazing over her. “They know what they are doing. I think we got her in time.”

“I wish I could have done more,” she frowned.

“Well, you always are taking care of everyone else, your friends, your patients.” He kissed her forehead. “Maybe you should let someone else take care of things for a while.”

She smiled up at him and watched the reflection in the waves, sun low over the water. They stood there, in silence, holding tight to each other in the sea breeze.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

~~~~~

They found their blanket and packed up their things, heading back to the car in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Opening the door, she took one last look at the beach, the waves, the sun sinking into the horizon, and got in the car.

“Hey, Rafael?”

“Yeah?”

“This was a perfect day.”

He looked at her. “Uh, besides the woman who almost drowned.”

“And the traffic.”

“And the seagulls.”

She looked at him, watching the setting sun reflect in his eyes.

“Hey, Rafael?”

“Yeah?”

“.......This was a perfect day.”

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave   Prologue

—Live another life in an alternate universe. Phase II of Project Second Life is live! Now accepting new participants, but hurry—offer ends soon!

“Whaddya think?”

The characters and background art were so realistic, they almost had me fooled. This feature took up seven pages in this gaming magazine, so it’s gotta be quite popular.

“I don’t know what to say…”

Two girls—actually, my older and younger sister—showed up out of nowhere with grins on their faces. They stuck this video game magazine in my face and hounded me over the article. Honestly, I have no clue as to what they’re trying to do. Well, I’d be lying if I said I had no interest in games. But the write-up seems to be about an MMORPG. I’m more of a fan of games like Harvest M○○n and Animal Cr○ssing. I like that comfy, casual pace.

“Ugh, you’re suuuch a bummer!” “I know, right?!” “…”

What’s with them? They’re so hyper. Even if it’s me saying, I think we get along well. We game together since both of my sisters are very into it. Well, it’s probably because of my influence on them, considering that I’m the only guy of us three.

“So? So? Whaddya think?” my younger sister asks me in a cutesy voice.

Her excitement is almost annoying, but since she’s my sister, I hold my tongue and continue reading the magazine pushed up against my face.

Dimension Wave

Looks like it’s an online multiplayer. Skimming through the pages, it looks like players get to work together with allies to fight off enemies. All their weapons, magic, and monsters are pretty typical too. Oh, you can also go fishing. I like stuff like that. It’s nice and relaxing. There are various races to choose from too. Oh? The description seems kinda odd. What’s this?

—Continuing with the well-acclaimed playstyle of the first phase, Phase II of the game will also not allow players to log out until the session has been completed. This further encourages players to fully experience a second life in the game. However, in-game time differs from real-life time. Though each session will require years of in-game time to be completed, it will translate to 24 hours of real-life time. This means that even players who are in full-time employment will be able to enjoy all of the content. We are now accepting new applicants, so don’t hesitate to sign up! Please visit the address below for details.

So it says. Oh, that’s right. I remember now. It was about a year ago when they caused a big stir. It was the guy who planned to create a whole “second life” thing in a VRMMO world.

And as it says in the magazine, months and years in the game will only be just a few hours in the real world. The game targets young professional. For the sake of giving them the chance to live a second life, players also can’t simply logout until the game is done. Content is released monthly to pretty high praise, save for a vocal minority. Or so I’ve read on a gaming news website. Even my buddies were raving about it after trying it out. Is it really that good though?

The problem is that people’s demeanors change after playing. I mean, if you spend seemingly years in the game, it’s bound to affect your personality. There’s even this disgraceful bastard who not only got a girlfriend in the game but is still going out with her IRL.

Fuckin’ normies!

… I should mention that cost of entry is rather high. Not only do you need special equipment, but the game itself costs a lot. After all, the developers and retailers need to make money. In short, it’s not spare change for a student at the very least.

“So? How are you going to pay for it?”

Honestly, even if you begged Mom and Dad for it, they’ll tell you off…

“Heh heh!”

My older sister remains reasonably excited and brings out an envelope. The Second Life Project is written as the sender’s address.

“No, you didn’t…” “I sure did! Here’s the acceptance letter.” “How did you get this? Who did you have to—” “Remember that tournament I won a while ago? This was the prize!”

She spoiled the answer but also my joke. The license was a prize for winning a tournament for this fighting game, which was made by another company of the same conglomerate. I’ve read that they’re making a lot of money lately. My sister definitely signed up the tournament just so she could get her hands on the license. It’s almost weird being related with these girls.

“Three people can sign up with one of these licenses, ya know!”

Here is my older sister who’s grinning from ear to ear and my younger sister who’s almost physically buzzing with excitement.

“Three people? That’s an odd number, eh?”

Isn’t it normally two or four? I’ve heard stories of couples who played together and came out with a stronger bond than ever. But I’ve heard that the game made things worse for some people too. In any case, it looks like I’m invited too. … wait, hold on.

“Hey, why don’t we put these up on an aucti—boof!”

Before I could finish my sentence, my right cheek encountered my younger sister’s fist.

“No way, you dummy!” “No, hear me out. Selling just one of these would give us enough money for a family vaca—boof!”

This time, it was left cheek, older sister.

“I believe I can leave the whole taking care of Mom and Dad thing until after I become a productive member of society.”

They sure are loyal to their desires. Well, it’s not the license is mine anyway, so I don’t really have the right to tell her what do with it.

“So, who’s player three?” “Huh?” they simultaneously interjected. “Hmm?”

The two girls stare at me as if I were speaking alien.

“Don’t you want to play too?” “Uhh, not really?”

It does sound interesting, but I’m iffy about VR games.

“And plus, I get kinda woozy from VR setups.”

VR machines and these fully-immersive online games have been sweeping through the gaming industry. Just before, the sci-fi subgenre of cyberpunk was very popular. Fully-immersive online games made a big splash when they first came out as it was almost as if cyberpunk has become reality. A large portion of gamers were very positive about it too.

Firstly—and I think a lot of Japanese gamers can sympathize—is that a lot of these physically-stimulating virtual reality games rub people the wrong way. For example, like how retro-styled games with pixel art are still really popular, people are used to gaming through a big TV screen. It’s hard to transition away from that concept. Even though I was born into a world where beautiful 3D games were the norm, I’m sure there were people who rejected the transition from pixel art to low-poly graphics.

Well, if that’s the case, I shouldn’t be opposed to these fully-immersive games.

Secondly, the games are very affected by the player’s brainwaves. It’s been recently proven that mental output and processing power vary greatly from person to person. In other words, a person’s ability to judge and reason have been proven, which is why fully-immersive VR games—games that depend on those functions—are heavily dependent on the player’s abilities.

To sum it up, there were gamers who were dissatisfied with the apparent unequal starting lines started cropping up. And excluding the small portion of people who physically and mentally fared well, the sales number weren’t so hot. Well, I guess it’s kinda like when touchscreens first hit the market. Those resistive ones weren’t so good and people didn’t love them. But as technology gets better, so will the performance of VR machines, and I’m sure it’ll then be a big hit.

Hmm, I swear I’ve heard someone tell me this before.

“Y’know, big bro, vat-type VR games have built-in brainwave normalizers so that anybody would be fine, right?” “Oh, is that right? I guess that’s why they’re so expensive then.”

Vat-types could be described as high-performance VR machines. They’re different than regular head-mounted display units hooked up to a computer. Vat-types connect the player by immersing them in a vat full of liquid in which humans can breathe. It’s really something straight out of a mad scientist’s lab. And to speak frankly, the reason why vat-types are invitation-only being because this is tech from the near future—it must cost a whole lot of money to operate.

“Well, I get that even I can play, but don’t you two have anyone else you could invite?” “It’s a ticket for three people! It’d be a lot more fun to go as siblings, don’t you think?” “Yup, she’s right!”

It seems like the three of us are closer than I thought. That makes me rather happy, to be honest. And so, that’s why I’ll be participating in Dimension Wave too.

The day has finally arrived. The three of us go to the venue by train.

Even though my sisters rushed me out of the door, a lot of people had arrived already at the event site. We brought a few things with us, including the license and a USB flash drive that was distributed to all the players. Stored in the flash drive was the data of our created characters. It takes quite a bit of time to customize a character, so they got us to do that ahead of time.

I made my macho mountain of muscles about three days ago. Swole characters aren’t ordinarily popular, but I think they’re cool.

Humans, Lycanthropes, Elves, Jewels, and Spirits were available choices for your character’s race and I chose to make a Spirit. Spirits don’t have levels, HP, or MP, so it makes them pretty special among MMOs. They had a bit of information on their official site, but I had to figure most of that out by myself. Jewels seem interesting too, but I ultimately decided on a Spirit.

I like the unique races.

As for my sisters, the older one picked Human and the younger Lycanthrope. I didn’t ask them, but they told me anyway.

“Oh, looks like they’re starting to let people in.”

Even before I had said that, those two were already restless and had begun heading inside. And why am I at the end of the line anyway? Eventually, I handed one of the three passes to a staff member and got in return a key with a blue plastic number tag attached to it. Then, we were split into two lanes—one for men, one for women.

“See you later.” “See ya!”

I waved them a simple goodbye before heading into the men’s changing room. It’s pretty big in here. I opened the locker with my number on it and found a set of clothes inside. Before the event, we were told to send in our measurements along with our authorization codes so that they can get it tailored to us.

I put my valuables inside, though that consists of only my phone and wallet, and put on the special clothes. It looks like a plugsuit straight out of an anime or something. It’s really elastic. The guys beside me are being awkwardly silent changing into their suits. But even without saying, I can tell they’re thinking of the same thing. I think they used to submerge you in the nude, but after some criticism, they came out with these tailored plugsuits. They even contain emergency life-saving measures. That’s probably one of the reasons why it’s so expensive as well. After changing, I double-checked to make sure my locker was locked and then hurried out the door.

“Whoa…”

The vats lined up row by row was really a spectacle seemingly taken out of a mad scientist’s lab. They’re actually pretty big, even though it’s just for one person. It’s as big as my bed at home.

“Let’s see, let’s see.”

There’s a large sticker placed instructing which way to stick the USB flash drive in and how to shut the door. It’s so simple, anyone can get it right with a quick glance. I plug in my flash drive into the port, hopped in the vat, made sure the door was closed, then slowly lied down. There’s still 10 minutes left until it starts. I take the time to think through what I’ll do in the game.

The two of them mentioned that they were picking a combat class, but I had other plans. I’d think I’d like to try the fishing activity that was in the magazine the other day. I know it might be a bit weird to just fish in an MMORPG, but the whole point of this game is to live a second life, right? I’ll live it leisurely. I haven’t thought much about what’s after though. I’m sure I’ll find a goal while I play. Just as I was thinking about that, I suddenly remember that they had an event called Dimension Wave going on, just like the title. I totally forgot about it up until now. I still have to decide on whether or not to participate, but I’m sure my sisters will. I’d like to at least play support for them.

“Oh?”

Time snuck up on me while I was lost in thought. An announcement played as they started to pump the liquid in. It’s green, I thought… but it was just the reflection of a light inside the vat. On second inspection, it’s actually colorless. The vat filled up in a flash. I’ve subconsciously held my breath, but I can naturally breathe in the liquid. What a shock. I really can breathe. Honestly, I wasn’t actually sure until now.

—Reading data 0%・・・100%. —Data import complete. Beginning brainwave normalizer load test.

I can see it. Rather, it’s being projected straight into my brain. A scene prettier than reality appears before my eyes. Lots of people are walking in the streets of this fantasy town. The sound is coming through too. I hear everything from the male voice of the shopkeeper to the noise of shuffling feet and footsteps. In normal VR systems, you get the tiniest hint of lag, even if it’s not much. But in here, not only is it running without so much a hitch, the fidelity is extremely high. That’s specialized equipment for ya.

—Test complete. Game will begin after all processes complete.

It’s a weird feeling. The voice goes directly into your head without me needing to use my ears. I was thinking that I’ve totally entered a sci-fi world, but tech in the real world is more advanced than I thought. I guess you could call it being excited, but oddly, I couldn’t calm down and stop looking around everywhere. But right as I do so, everything disappeared.

“That can’t be good.”

I’m not just talking about vat-type machines, but when any piece of electronic suddenly goes black like if you yanked the plug out, it kinda makes me feel weird. It’s like as if the world that I’ve been living it just suddenly disappeared.

And then—

—Best wishes to your new life!

previously: /ch000/ /next/

(please support me on Patreon or Paypal)

[jacekhouris]

a self para.

tldr; jace is thriving without roslan! well, sort of. he got a record deal, which is awesome! but he’s also really unhappy, which is less awesome. anyways, here’s jace trying to deal with his emotions and failing miserably.

“love of my life, you’ve hurt me.”

jace felt like his heart had been torn to shreds. he was completely blindsided; one moment, he’d been telling roslan he loved him, and the next, roslan was on a plane to see his ex. he couldn’t help but blame himself. maybe if he had kept it inside a little while longer. hadn’t said those words so soon. maybe they’d rushed into this whole thing. regardless of the reason roslan had gone to seattle, the fact still remained: roslan had gone to seattle, and had left jace with a note. a fucking note. that hurt more than anything. it felt cowardly. if roslan didn’t love him, or did love him, but wanted to be with his ex more, he could have at least said it to jace’s face. instead, he was left with “having this ring makes me feel like there’s some part of me that still belongs to him, and i don’t want to be with you if i still feel that way” worst of all, he signed it “ros.” it was like a punch in the face. “hi, i’m leaving you for my ex. i don’t want to be with you anymore. ros.”

swallowing his anger, jace got ready for the day. mornings felt a little less chipper without roslan. jace stuck to his side of the bed still—he’d tried to starfish out, just to spite the memory of roslan that the bed still held, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. he wasn’t sleeping as well. he felt colder without roslan there. he’d gotten so used to the second body in the bed, it felt… unnatural for jace to be alone there. jace looked in the mirror, displeased with what he saw. his usually clean shaven face was now stubbly and patchy, and the bags under his eyes made his regularly large eyes look even larger, and tired. like he hadn’t slept for days. he picked up his razor, dealing with the first of the two evils. once his face was smooth and more youthful looking, jace splashed cold water on it, hoping to give himself a more awake appearance. it worked, sort of. pleased with his efforts, he went to his closet, knowing any outfit he picked would be better than the ratty t-shirt, sweatpants, and the scarf roslan had given him that he’d been wearing. it hurt to take off the scarf, but he did it.

after changing, feeding and walking the dogs, and drinking some coffee, jace picked the scarf back up and walked into roslan’s room, setting it on the bed. it didn’t belong to him. in a way, it never had. he’d just borrowed it. he felt like he’d done the same with roslan, and his ex. roslan had never really been his. he’d just borrowed him, and now he was going back to who he was truly supposed to be with. a lump formed in jace’s throat, and he swallowed it. he had to be done being sad. for today, at least. he had bigger things in store today than grieving over his relationship ending.

“you’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me.”

jace got off the train. the six hour ride hadn’t bothered him. he’d finally been able to sleep for a bit, no longer plagued by a phantom boyfriend. he’d gotten on an early train, so he arrived in the city around one in the afternoon. only two hours until his meeting. he began to wander around the city he’d called home for so many years. in a way, it felt right to be there. there were no traces of roslan here. no traces of their relationship. unless, of course, you counted the seemingly hundreds of pike corp ads littered all over the city. but that wasn’t roslan—in fact, it was everything roslan wasn’t, which jace somehow found comforting. new york city was the polar opposite of the man who’d just broken his heart, and it was exactly where he needed to be.

the brisk air of the atlantic northeast blew on jace’s face, and for a moment, he wished he’d held on to that scarf. he abolished the thought, reminding himself he’d spent twenty nine years of his life in this weather. he could spend a day in it and be fine. and sure enough, he was. he spent the next hour and a half navigating the grid system until he found his location—atlantic records group. he checked his phone. two-thirty-four. he was a few minutes early, but that would leave a good impression. he checked his pocket. two usb drives. each one served as a backup for the other. he pushed open the revolving door and walked up to the reception desk.

“hi,” he said, his face numb from the cold. “i’m jace khouri. i have a meeting with alicia chatmon about a possible record deal. at three.” he was glad to be getting his bumbling idiot-ness out now, while talking to reception. then, when it mattered, he’d be well-spoken. that was how it worked, right?

“ah, yes, mr. khouri,” the receptionist said, typing on the computer. “you can have a seat in the waiting area right there. we’ll send an assistant to take you to ms. chatmon’s office when she’s ready, alright?” jace nodded, quietly thanked them, and sat down in one of the chairs. he pulled out his phone, his fingers itching to text roslan. there were so many things he wanted to say. “i couldn’t have done this without you,” was one of them. “i can’t believe you aren’t here,” was another. but the hardest one for him not to send was “i love you.”

“love of my life, can’t you see?”

after fifteen minutes of forcing himself to not text roslan (he succeeded in doing so by repeating “he’s not your boyfriend or anything” to himself), he was finally called up to alicia’s office. he shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to hide how nervous he was. if roslan was here, he’d hold his hand. he’d calm him down. but roslan wasn’t here. his fingers itched for a hand to hold, but there wasn’t one. he just balled his hand into a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm.

alicia’s assistant let him into her office, and he immediately put on a smile. unlike what he’d been practicing in the mirror, this wasn’t fake. this was his first genuine smile since roslan had left. he was actually excited for this meeting.

“hi,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “jace khouri. it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

alicia accepted his handshake, and responded gingerly with, “jace, the pleasure is all mine. please, take a seat.” he obliged. “let me cut to the chase—i know you brought your demo.” he began to pull it out of his pocket before she held out a hand, signaling for him to stop. “but i came down to cape hazel a few weeks ago. i’ve got some family there, and i figured i’d scope out our potential new talent in person. oftentimes, a live performance is a much better way to judge performers than demos. and i have to say… i was very, very impressed.”

jace let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “really?” he said, his smile giddy. “i wish i’d known you were there. i would have said hello, or bought you a drink, or something.”

“no need for that,” she responded, a smile finally gracing her lips. “jace, we want to sign you. just for one album, for now. how well that does will determine whether or not we take you on for a second one. and we aren’t expecting you to make top forty, either. you’d spend a month recording the album—normally it takes longer, but we want it to be primarily just you and your guitar, so if we can get you up here three days a week, every week, it should be done by the end of the month. then, we’d get you some local radio play, in new york and in maine, and do a northeast united states tour.”

jace took all of this in. this was real. this was happening. when one door shut, another door opened.

“we’ll need you to write a couple more songs, of course. most of your songs are very happy, and while that’s all well and good for you, audiences need something they can relate to, and not everyone is happy.”

“that won’t be a problem. i’ve written a few unhappy songs recently, anyways,” jace said, thinking back to his recent scribbles in his notebook. lots of them were big “fuck you, roslan” songs, but there were a decent few that were simply melancholy breakup songs.

“great,” alicia said, standing up. “well, i think we’re done here. my assistant will be in touch with you for recording dates and to get finalized song lyrics. be prepared to make abrupt schedule changes—we want to get this album out soon. february is a slow month for the more mainstream albums. perfect timing for a smaller musician like yourself.”

jace smiled, nodded, and thanked her before walking out of the building. he pulled out his phone, and sent roslan a text. “happy new year. i just got a record deal. don’t move out, i won’t be living there half the time anyways and the dogs should stay together. and i got my work schedule changed so we don’t have to see each other. you may have ruined me emotionally but i’m onto bigger and better things now! 2019 is gonna be my bitch no thanks to you.” he barely meant anything he was typing, but he had to send it. he needed roslan to know that he didn’t care about him. that he didn’t love him. even though he absolutely, without a single doubt in the world, did.

“bring it back, bring it back. don’t take it away from me because you don’t know what it means to me.”

[bimboized]

Oops!

er screen in stunned silence. Running his fingers through his short brown hair, he lowered his hands and pondered sending what he'd found to a watchdog group. The information he'd stumbled across and then pieced together scared him. If he was right, the biochemical company he worked for was in deep with the CIA and MI6. While he didn't know much about organic chemistry, as he was a polymer chemist and engineer, it took some digging, but his research into CRISPR had netted him the information he needed.

The process that Biology Information Manufacturing had come up with, in theory, was decades ahead of what anyone ever thought possible. It had taken some effort, but Andrew had managed to find information: terrorist kept at Guantanamo Bay had been the first unwilling test subjects. Andrews first thought when he'd stumbled over the video files was that someone was browsing porn at work and had been trying to hide it. The time-lapse of the middle Eastern man slowly being feminized, growing massive tits, and then being fucked by two guards had shocked him.

Digging deeper, he found records of people who'd gone into witness protection, along with several missing political figures, most of them running to oppose current leaders. New identities had been forged and post-transformation interviews had clearly shown the full effects of the treatment. It didn't matter how you started, male or female, thin or thick, in your twenties or in your sixties, by the time the treatment was concluded, you looked and talked like some twenty-something bimbo that craved sex in almost any form. It was crazy.

The worst part was that not only did the company had a way to reverse it, they simply chose not to as the governmental agencies wanted those subjected to it left that way. Worse still, while there was information about ways to alter to process to not be so extreme, providing either "natural accelerated breast growth" or complete genetic gender reassignment, the cost wasn't considered "economically viable enough" to provide the treatment to those suffering from gender or body dysmorphia.

Flipping through the files, Andrew wanted to warn the world about this. Had they been willing to offer this to the public, his ethics may have struggled a bit. The way things stood, this was evil. No government should have this ability without steep oversight. Encrypting the files, he pulled the thumb drive from his pocket and slipped it into the machine. He began to copy the encrypted files and tried not to look suspicious.

As soon as the files finished copying, Andrew slid the USB drive into his pocket and closed the windows, leaving the armor weave project information he had been working on in the background along with an email he'd already typed out stating he was taking the rest of the day off. He sent the email, locked the computer and stood up only to see the head of the Biochem division, Jennifer Allister, heading his way. He quickly ducked the other way and, as discretely as he could, he headed toward the exit. He waved at the security guard, Harry, as he made his way out the front door. It was around lunch time, he rationalized, so his leaving shouldn't draw much attention. He got into his car and left the parking lot.

It was a long thirty-minute commute back to Parkview, the village he lived in, his eyes fully expecting that someone was tailing him. When he passed the gas station at the edge of town, he sighed with relief, given the last car that had been behind had turned off a few miles back, probably heading to Fondulac. Thinking about Parkview, he smiled. Andrew liked the people there. He knew most of them, having gone through grade school and high school here. The local bars were decent watering holes and the one restaurant served great comfort food. The small grocery store didn't stock much, but it was better than driving all the way to Springdale.

He pulled into the duplex he lived in and owned, renting out the other half to Isabelle, a Mexican woman in her mid-twenties that often joined him when he'd barbeque on the weekends. She'd outrightly stated she had no interest in men and he'd met one or two of the girlfriends she'd had over in the past. All and all, a nice enough lady, if I bit peculiar in her choice of outfits. Andrew waved at her as she got out of the custom Beetle that she owned. She was wearing a purple and black corset, matching dress, and steampunk goggles that sat atop her head. She waved back, smiling, and waited for him.

"Hey, Andrew," Isabelle said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, "you're home early."

He shrugged. His hand in his pocket gripped the USB drive. "Yeah, decided to take half the day off to relax," Andrew replied. He stepped back and gave Isabelle a once over, chuckling when she twirled to show off. "Okay, so I have to ask. What's up with the fancy outfit. I'm used to you dressing goth, but this is over the top."

"Had a photo shoot in town," Isabelle replied. "I was supposed to take the day off, but the money was good. You still planning on grilling this weekend."

"Probably," Andrew said, as he really had no idea what his life was going to be like later today, much less later this week. "Look, I need to take care of a few things. Chores, that sort of thing. Let's catch up later, okay?"

Isabelle nodded. "Sure thing," she said, turning toward her front door, pausing there to look back at Andrew. "One of these days, you're going to find yourself a good woman."

Andrew laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, maybe you will, too." Isabelle laughed at that and headed inside. Andrew, in turn, headed to his front door, unlocked it and made his way inside. He kicked off his shoes and walked to the spare bedroom that he'd converted to a personal office. Turning his computer on, he waited until everything was loaded before slipping the USB drive into the USB port. He copied over all the files and mulled over his options. He pondered BookLeaks and a few other sites, finally deciding on one. It took some effort to find actual contact information.

Andrew sent over a few of the files and, as they uploaded, got up and paced. He was going to get fired, that much was certain. Probably sued. He mentally told himself, again and again, that this was the right thing. The upload complete, he sent the email.

He got a reply about an hour later, the person identifying themselves only as Xiang, stating they wanted to see more and were eager to get this out to everyone they could. Andrew replied with several emails, sending the rest of the files. By the time they were done corresponding, it was almost six in the evening. Andrew's stomach grumbled. Sighing, he decided he needed a beer or three along with some food. His nerves weren't exactly shot, but they were close.

Deciding he might be getting fairly sloshed, he chose to hoof it to the local watering hole. It wasn't that far, only about a mile. He waved at Bruce, the one cop that lived in town, as he headed into what amounted to downtown Parkview. Reaching the aptly named "Last Chance", he opened the door and stepped inside, country music playing over the speaker system, the sound of pool being played further inside the tavern. Making his way to the bar, he ordered a pub pizza and a beer from Molly, the woman that ran the place.

As the beer was sat down, Molly smiled at him. "Seems like you got someone's attention," she said, gesturing up the bar to a woman sitting at the other end. He didn't recognize her, but her dark black hair, the overall dress, cute top, and girl next door look of her got his attention immediately. Not to mention her melonous breasts. He raised the beer to her and smiled. She grabbed her own beer and walked down, her hips swaying and her breasts, larger than he'd first thought, bobbing back and forth as she walked.

"Mind if I take this seat?" she asked, looking at the stool next to Andrew.

"Not at all," Andrew replied, "and thanks for the beer."

"You looked like you could use it," she said, sitting down and setting her beer on the counter. "I've seen less jumpy rabbits back on my uncle's farm." She offered her hand. "I'm Kelly, by the way."

"Andrew," he replied, shaking her hand. He took a pull of his beer and sighed. "Been a long day, just not one I overly feel like talking about. Who's your uncle?"

"Leo Smithers," she said, reaching for the menu. "He runs the cattle farm 'tween here and Fondulac."

Andrew was aware of Leonard. He'd heard his brother call him Leo when the two ran into him at the grocery store once. "In town with your pa?"

Kelly shrugged. "Just finished college and looking for work back in Springdale. Uncle Leo suggested this was a good place to get a drink and maybe meet a nice boy." She rolled her eyes then winked at him. "I'm not a big fan of nice or boys, but I like finding a good man who's not too nice if you get my meaning."

Andrew took a pull of his beer. "I might, though I'm afraid my beer is empty and to get all the niceness out of me may take a few more."

Kelly laughed. "Here, have mine as a start. I'll order us a few more."

After a half dozen beers and a couple of shared pub pizzas, Andrew was very into Kelly. She had this charm about her that made her irresistible. It didn't hurt that she'd intentionally leaned toward him and pressed his boobs against his arm when she caught him staring at her breasts. She stood up after her fifth beer and reached for her phone. "I should probably call it a night and call a cab," she said, leaning over to kiss Andrew's cheek and somehow unbalancing herself so that she ended up stumbling against him, her boobs pressing against his chest. Andrew felt himself get instantly hard.

"Or, you know, you can walk me home first," Andrew said with a grin, slowly standing and helping Kelly steady herself. He reached for his wallet before Kelly waved him off and reached into her purse.

"You pay for the cab and I'll get our drinks," she said, her speech a little slurred. She handed her credit card to Molly, who ran it and handed Kelly the receipt. The two made their way outside and started walking toward Andrew's house.

Pausing at the doorstep, Andrew was pushed against the door as Kelly pressed her body against him, kissing him soundly. His hands went around her back before slipping down to her ass. She wiggled against his palms and slowly broke the kiss. "Mmmm, forget the cab," she murmured in his ear. "Why don't you take me inside?"

"Yes, ma'am," Andrew replied, fishing out his keys and unlocking his door before making his way in. They both kicked off their shoes before Andrew led the way to the bedroom. Kelly paused at the door to the bathroom. "Let me freshen up first, okay?" Andrew laughed and nodded, making his way to the bedroom. He was completely naked and laying in bed when he heard the toilet flush. A moment or two later, Kelly walked in, completely naked, holding nothing but a condom. "I like to ride cowboy, if that's okay?"

"Happy to let a woman have her way with me," Andrew replied. Kelly crawled over him and began to lick and stroke his cock before rolling the condom down around his shaft. She then lowered herself atop him and began to rock her hips, causing both to moan in pleasure.

He wasn't sure if it was the booze or what, but Andrew never seemed to grow soft despite Kelly bringing him to orgasm four times. By the fourth, though, he was so exhausted, it was all he could do to pull the light sheet over them both as Kelly snuggled against him.

Andrew woke the next morning to hear the shower running. He lay there for a moment, both dealing with a pounding headache from the hangover and trying to sort out the memories from last night. It was all a bit fuzzy. The shower, at least, confirmed that the dream he had about a woman fucking him silly wasn't some dream. As the shower stopped, Andrew staggered to his feet. He still felt a bit weird, like his balance was off. He staggered to the bathroom just as a pantied Kelly opened the door to it. Her breasts hung freely but she had one hand toweling her hair while the other held the rest of her clothes.

"All yours," Kelly said, kissing Andrew's cheek. "I'm going to get dressed."

Andrew nodded, making his way into the bathroom to relieve himself. He left the door open and lurched in. His foot slipped on a bit of water and he found himself spinning, only to land with his butt on the toilet. "Fuck it," he thought, deciding to pee sitting down. It felt a little odd, to be sure, but he didn't feel like standing just yet.

"I left my number on your nightstand, Andy," Kelly said, pausing at the door to the restroom. "Call me once you're coherent, okay?"

Andrew looked up and nodded, giving a thumbs up. He heard the front door close and decided he might as well stagger to his feet. Slowly pushing himself up, he flushed the toilet and opened the standing shower. He turned on the spray, getting it nice and warm. The shower smelled like coconuts and hibiscus. He realized it must've been the body wash his cousin, Amber, had left behind a few months ago. He grabbed his own body wash and opened it, immediately wishing he hadn't. Something about it smelled off. Closing it, he set it aside and reached for the feminine body wash.

Sighing and rationalizing that it would get the smell of sex off him at least, he put some of the coconut body wash in his hands and began to lather up his arms and legs. His whole body felt week and his eyes stung. He realized he'd never taken out his contacts even as he reached for the similarly scented shampoo to clean his hair. The scent seemed to grow on him, though he was having a hard time focusing. He rinsed his slightly shaggy hair out only to realize he'd completely neglected his crotch.

Lathering up his palms, he reached between his legs to clean his cock, only to realize that it was no longer there. In its place was a perfectly formed female pussy. Rinsing himself clean, Andrew staggered out of the shower, for the first time noticing all the hair on his arms, legs, and around his crotch were gone. Wiping the mirror clean with a towel, he looked at his face and body. Even through the blur, the reflection showed softened features in both his face and body, his waist having thinned slightly while his chest showed the barest hint of breasts. They'd dosed him! He was sure of it.

Staggering back to the bedroom, he found a note along with a pair of panties. The note was blurry until Andrew remembered to take out his contacts. Everything became crystal clear as if his vision had been completely fixed. He grabbed the note and read it again.

"We know what you did and intercepted it, Andrew. We're going to give you a chance to rethink your options. You can either come to work and talk to us about this or you know what the consequences will be."

Well shit.