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puhpandas · 10 months

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Veering Off Course

(2,305 words)

Gregory and his family get a call that Vanessa, whos in a different state for college, has gotten hurt. Gregory calls Evan, and Evan is able to use the things he's learned about himself since meeting Gregory to help his friend with his emotions regarding the situation.

Its early in the morning on a Saturday when Evan gets the call. It woke him up, so all he does is blink groggily and swipe at the screen blindly while propped up on his elbow until his thumb hits 'answer' on his phone. "Hello?"

"Evan." It's Gregory, and the serious tone to just that single word clears up Evan's brain as fast as lightning. He scrambles to prop himself into sitting up and rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Gregory?" Evan asks, looking at the little icon he set for Gregory's contact of a picture of Evan and him at an amusement park. "Is everything okay?"

It takes a second for Gregory to respond, and it causes the anxiety that had steadily began to bubble inside of him to surge. "Gregory?"

"Sorry." Gregory finally answers. "I-- Uh... can you..." His friend struggles for words, and Evan tries to be as patient as possible as it becomes clearer every second something is wrong. "Can you come over? Like right now?"

Evan flounders for words for a second, but manages to force his mouth to say, "Of course."

"Okay." Gregory replies, and a surge of worry shoots through his chest when Gregory sounds like he might cry. He takes a breath on the other end, then, "Please hurry."

After that, Evan only lingers enough to respond with a short confirmation and goodbye before hanging up the phone. It takes him record time to shoot out of bed, sling on some shoes, and get down the street a few houses to Gregory's own.

His mind had played multiple awful scenarios of what terrible thing could have happened the entire time, but his worry does not ebb when he makes it to the porch and knocks on the door to a teary eyed Gregory.

Evan's immediately herded inside. Freddy has his phone in his hand pressed up against his ear, and he's pacing around the room. Aunt Chica and Aunt Roxy sit in the living room. Bonnie is sat in a dragged-over dining chair by Freddy and frowning.

It's dead silent in the house; even the TV and seemingly endless energy flowing through and causing bustling noise is snuffed out to nothing. Evan watches as everyone sits completely seriously and quiet, hands held in their lap or thrumming against something.

Impatience, is what Evan first thinks of. They're waiting for something. News, maybe? Freddy is on the phone. It's so silent you could hear a pin drop. Or somebody else's phone vibrate.

Evan's dread and anxiety only get worse when Gregory shuts the door behind him and tugs on him a bit. Evan follows without struggle, thousands of words and questions on his tongue when Gregory leads him to one of the unoccupied seats in the living room; a loveseat.

He sits down with him, and Gregory's face is scrunched up in barely restrained worry. Evan watches his friend, who's been an anchor for himself for so long, tremble and hunch in on himself. "Gregory?"

Gregory's eyes dart to him, and Evan leans down, hunching forward with his elbows rested on his thighs like theyre their own personal bubble. Evan's own brows furrow, and he feels the familiar thickness in his throat just at watching his friend be upset.

Evan grabs at his hand, squeezing it tight and lacing their fingers together. "I'm really worried, Gregory... please tell me whats wrong." Evan pleads. "Please?"

Gregory nods unsurely after a moment, and Evan watches him swallow thickly before turning to him fully. "Dad got a call from the University of Oregon today."

Evan's brows raise, but he nods to keep going. The University of Oregon is the college Gregory's sister, Vanessa, had left home to go attend. Evan hasnt gotten the chance to meet her, yet. She's already been gone two years strong, with a seemingly bright future. Evan's heard Gregory and his family talk about her enough to know her talents.

Gregory's breath hitches, and Evan wraps his other hand around Gregory's, the one he already has ahold of. He sandwiches it in-between his own and hopes it's enough comfort.

"Somebody called us and told us Vanessa got into a car crash today. On campus."

It's like a bucket of ice water is poured on Evan's head. His feet go cold, and his eyes widen to saucers. Fear shoots like an arrow through his stomach. When he stops reeling from the news, he watches Gregory begin to shake and lose the carefully gathered composure he'd put up since Evan arrived.

"They said..." Gregory's brows are furrowed so much it looks like it hurts. Theres a clench in his jaw and a wetness to his eyes Evan isnt used to. "They said she's already been taken to the hospital and is in surgery." He frowns, and theres a twist in his lip that Evan is so familiar with. "They... a-all we can do is wait. They told us they'd let us know any updates."

The house is thrown back into such jarring silence after Gregory stops talking that Evan's ears start ringing. Which makes it clear as day when Gregory's breath turns harsh beside him.

Evan tears his eyes away from the floor and ignores the twisting feeling in his chest to look at his friend. He has his face buried in the hand that isnt held by Evan and is shaking in a way where you can tell theyre trying so hard to keep it together. Gregory's angled away from him, but Evan can see the panic on his face even from where he can see.

Evan's breath hitches, and the thickness in his throat begins to turn into burning as he scootches closer to Gregory on the couch and sets a hand on his shoulder. He tugs a bit until Gregory gets the message and let's him wrap his arms around his middle and hold him close.

Gregory makes some sort of horrible, upsetting hitching noise that causes the dam to break for Evan, before he sort of flops against him and brings up his own arms to clutch at his T-Shirt. Gregory's head thumps against his shoulder, and it's one of the only times Evan really becomes aware of the height he has on his friend.

"Its okay..." Evan says into Gregory's shoulder, because it's all he knows to do in the moment. He glances around and sees that Gregory's family has shifted to the dining room, leaving them alone. Evan finally feels the tears slip from his eyes as he presses closer, hugging him like his life depends on it. "Its okay, Gregory. It'll be okay."

"It's--" Gregory says, and Evan can hear how much his voice shakes with barely contained tears. "Its not. I can't-- We can't even go see her. We can't go and wait for her to wake up, or anything... we just have to--" He cuts himself off, and Evan feels Gregory shake harshly against him.

"We just have to sit here." Gregory says, voice thick. "I dont know what to do, Evan. I don't know what to do."

And its only that sentence that causes Evan to grapple at what to do, if his friend can't. And all he can think about is how himself would react if it were Gregory getting hurt.

All he'd be able to do is cry, he realizes. He wouldnt be able to do anything. Just wait and be scared.

But that's what Gregory is getting at, isnt he? He can't do anything. That's the thing. Evan has known Gregory long enough to get him. To know, him. Evan knows that Gregory doesnt sit around and cry like Evan does. He prefers to get up and do something about whatevers wrong.

Hes a problem solver instead of waiting around. A fighter instead of a crier. No wonder hes so bent out of shape about this. To have a loved one in danger, and when you're so used to getting up and making a plan to fix a problem and are forced to sit in standby...

Evan eases them down against the cushion of the couch, not once untangling themselves from eachother. Gregory shakes, but he does not cry. "So what would you do if you could?"

The hair from Gregory's bangs brushes against Gregory's neck as he moves his head. "I'd... I don't know. I'd at least try to get to her." Gregory says, voice unbelievably quiet. "At least get to her. Then figure it out from there. Just so I'm not waiting on phone calls."

Evan nods against him, his chin scrunching up Gregory's hair. His tears have long since stopped falling, but he knows he has dry tracks on his cheeks. "You have a plan."

Gregory makes some sort of noise that would sound like a snort in any other circumstances. "I would if I could." Gregory replies, squeezing his arms a bit tighter. "But I cant" He sighs, shuddering and heavy. "I just have to wait."

Evan hums. "You're worried, and you're stressed." He makes the same noise Gregory just did. "I know how you feel... I really do. Maybe not your exact situation, but... I get what it's like to feel helpless." He says. "You know what I would do?"

Gregory hums this time, questionative. Evan rubs circles into his back. "I'd sit there and wait, and wish for it to different. And when it wouldnt be, I'd cry."

Gregorys head shifts against that crook between Evan's chin and chest, almost like hes trying to look him in the eye but the hug prevents him from being able.

"All I ever did was cry." Evan says when Gregory doesnt respond. "Its the only thing that I could do to cope."

"...So..." Gregory asks, and his voice is thick again. "You mean..."

"You're stressed." Evan answers. "You're stressed and you're worried. So... why dont you let it out?"

Evan, out of anyone, knows how valuable emotions can be. He didnt, once upon a time. When everyone would just tell him how annoying it is. How useless it is. How he's asking for it. How he should have toughened up by now. When instead of comfort, he'd receive ridicule and prodding.

That's changed. Ever since a certain someone entered his life. He doesn't think of his emotions, himself so little anymore. So worthless. So maybe that's why Gregory perks up ever so slightly in understanding.

And that's all it takes.

Gregory's trembling turns into shoulder shaking sobs like the snap of a finger. He cries, open and unadulterated, and Evan just hugs him close and rubs his back, offering reassurances like Gregory has done for him so many times.

His own eyes burn when his best friends sobs are heard so openly and he can feel every shudder of his body. Evan's chin scrunches, and the tears fall right along with Gregory as Evan hugs him close, tucking his face into his hair.

"Im--" Gregory cries. "I-Im just so worried about her."

"I know." Evan responds, his own voice breaking as he pets Gregory's hair. His shirt is damp with tears but he doesnt care. "Itll be okay. It'll all be okay."

They stay like that for a while, and Evan can tell Gregory needs it. He needs it. The worry he felt that morning doesnt ever really leave, and it stays ever-present as Evan watches his friend fall apart. They stay stuck together like magnets, eventually only shoulder to shoulder with linked hands on the loveseat, and none of Gregory's family try to peel them apart when they eventually wander back into the living room.

They stay in a state of constant agonizing limbo all day. At 8:00pm, Freddy calls it a night. Gregory protests immediately, but Aunt Roxy calms him down almost seamlessly and convinces him to go to bed.

Of course, Evan follows him. He cant imagine a world where he doesnt. The air mattress stays deflated in Gregory's closet as it has been most of the time nowadays. All Evan has to do is kick his shoes off since he left home in his pajamas anyway and they're wrapped around eachother, tucked in Gregory's bed under his comforter in the dark.

Gregory is silent all throughout the night, even though Evan knows he's awake. Evan just hopes that... he did the right thing. Something knows is that suppressing how you feel isnt good. It never works. No matter how much you want it to.

Gregory taught him that. He just wants to return the favor. Not because he owes Gregory, no. Gregory has long since hammered it into Evan's thick skull that he has nothing to pay him back for. That his kindness is not a deed to Evan, but rather that Evan himself deserves to be treated kindly.

Gregory does, too. Evan knows this with all his heart. Gregory is his best friend and has done more for him than anyone else ever has.

Evan... all Evan did was change. Change for the better. And hopefully he helped the most important person in his life with the things he learned. The things that person taught him.

He hugs Gregory's middle a little tighter, not daring to break the silence. Gregory needs time, but doesn't want to be alone. Evan understands. He does. He just hopes to convey what he truly feels through the one action.

Thank you. I'm here for you. I'll always be here. You're my best friend. I'm so glad you trust me. I trust you as well. So much.

Gregory himself wraps his arms tighter around Evan in turn, and Evan feels like the single movement lso has a deeper meaning he cant read.

They dont speak. They just lay in silence until eventually they fall asleep, stuck together like two puzzle pieces.

ao3 link

#this oneshot is mostly just to focus more on gregorys character and how i imagine him (not headcanon #his actual canon character) to handle problems.#ive always seen gregory as instead of letting fear/emotions take over #he pushes past to get a task done/fix whatevers wrong. so i wanted to translate that into the flashlight duo universe with the emotional/pr #especially because of how important emotions are to evans growth and how gregory is the reason for that growth #and i also just wanted to finally write a bit of evan helping gregory since ive written so much vice versa.#i needed something for gregory to be super worried over and well. this universe is already family centric. poor vanessa.#its a normal ass world okay theres not much i can do #vanessa is okay btw.#the next day theyre supposed to get news about surgery and recovery and plan to go on a road trip to oregon to see her while she recovers #(i actually already wrote some of it but cut it out because i didnt like where it was going.#just veered (ha) too far away from the core of the fic)#so you can imagine that happening.#anyways hope you enjoyed! still need a better idea to showcase evan helping gregory but i think this is okay for now.#i have some other plans for this duo (as always) having to do with love languages so im excited about that.#lets see how long itll take me to actually write it lol #pandas writes #my fics #flashlight duo #flashlight duo oneshots #gregory #evan #the fazbears #oneshot #kinda feel like this is cringe #but whatever im cringe and im free two cakes etc #not my favorite work ive done but whatever #its okay

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coquelicoq · 1 year

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this post is brought to you by: la lettre c!

[previously: la lettre b]

i recently spent nearly a month reading the C section of this french dictionary. and by gum now you are going to hear about it!!

stats

percentage of dico taken up by C words: 10.6% (yeah you heard me. a tenth of this dictionary is just for the letter C. you've been warned)

percentage of dico read (as of the end of the C section): 23.5%

rate and duration: 3 pages/day for 27 days

total entries: 3449

rows added to my vocabulary spreadsheet: 708 😅

fun facts

more pages in this dico are devoted to words starting with C than with any other letter! which if you think about it makes sense. not only can a word-initial c be followed by any vowel, it can be followed by h, l, and r, plus the prefix con/com- is EXTREMELY generative…19 of the 81 pages are dedicated just to words that start with con or com (over a page of which are actually words that start with contre). i love that you get nearly 1/4 of the way through this dictionary before you even get to the 4th letter of the 26-letter alphabet.

as mentioned in the B post, there sure are a lot of slang words meaning "head" that start with c. you've got your caboche (hobnail). you've got your cafetière (coffeemaker). you've got your carafe (carafe) or your carafon (small carafe). you've got your chou (cabbage). you've got your ciboulot (diminutive of ciboule, which means head). you've got your citron (lemon). shockingly coco (coconut) is not slang for noggin to my knowledge…but it's not like there's a one-to-one mapping between "round things" and "things that are slang for noggin", or we wouldn't be in this situation with carafe, now would we?

speaking of noggins, there are also a lot of idioms meaning "to wrack one's brain" that were in the C section, either because the "wrack" word starts with a c or because the "brain" word does: se casser la tête (casser: break), se creuser le ciboulot/la cervelle/la tête/les méninges (creuser: dig).

page hogs

(entries taking up 1/6 of a page or more)

carte

chaîne

charger

chien

compte

conseil

corde

corps

côté

couleur

coup

coupe

couper

courir

cours

croire

culture

i knew coup would be big, and i wasn't surprised by corps or cours, but damn there are a lot more chien idioms than i was expecting!

🤯 momence

i looked up the etymology of un casanier/une casanière (homebody) expecting it to be pretty straightforward given the spanish casa meaning house, but it actually came from an italian word meaning "moneylender"??? which was then influenced by the word that means house, but still. not sure i buy the logical leap made in the CNRTL entry for casanier that the "homebody" sense "s'explique prob[ablement] par le fait que les prêteurs italiens installés en France semblaient tenus à résider en un lieu précis, évolution favorisée par l'infl[uence] de case* « maison », fréquent au XVIe s". yeah but were italian moneylenders unique in liking to stay in one spot? i kinda doubt it…

chevronné(e): experienced, seasoned, highly qualified. one of my favorite things about this project is how much i am learning about etymology just because words from the same root whose meanings have since diverged still often occur near each other in the dictionary. chevronné comes right after chevron, which is a pattern in the shape of a V (or upside-down V). on a military uniform, chevrons indicate an officer's rank. so someone who is chevronné is someone who wears a lot of chevrons because they have a high rank, which generally indicates a lot of experience.

and if you're wondering why chevron means an inverted V shape, another meaning of chevron is "rafter", as in, the beams in a roof that slope to either side…forming an inverted V shape. and why is that beam called a chevron? well, we're getting into speculation now*, but chevron comes a few entries after chèvre, goat. according to this dictionary, chèvre is also another word for chevalet, which means "sawhorse" and comes from the word cheval (horse). now, chèvre and cheval, though they look similar in french, come from completely different latin roots. but goats and horses are both four-legged animals, and a sawhorse is, of course, a support structure made of two upside-down Vs that look like the two pairs of legs of a four-legged animal. so i'm not sure of the exact chain of causality here, but it does seem plausible that the inverted V came to be called a chevron because of its resemblance to a pair of legs? of some animal or another??

*(the CNRTL etymology entry for chevron claims that it comes from a latin word that meant both goat and chevron, capreolus, but i haven't been able to confirm for myself that capreolus meant chevron so am not taking that as gospel.)

couché(e) en chien de fusil: lying curled up in a ball/in the fetal position. the fun thing about this one is that there's this passage in les mis where gavroche notices that the pistol he's stolen from a shop window "n'avait pas de chien." this confused the hell out of me when i read it. the pistol didn't have a dog? why the fuck would the pistol have a dog??? eventually i managed to wrap my head around the idea that chien might mean something other than "dog" in the context of a pistol, and once my mind was opened to that revolutionary possibility it didn't take long to discover that the hammer of a gun is called a chien. so when i got to this entry in the dictionary, i was like yeah, yeah, le chien de fusil, we've all seen it. the problem is i still don't really get how that translates to the fetal position. they just don't seem that similar to me? so this one is a work in progress.

être à la colle: live together, be shacked up. (colle means glue.) i also like vivre en concubinage, which means the same thing. you can imagine my surprise when i got to concubinage and finally learned it does not mean "the state of having concubines" as i had been assuming. i would see it in like news articles about modern french people and be like "that doesn't seem right, but i don't know enough about french culture to dispute it."

somewhat relatedly, i don't think i had ever come across et consorts ("and company") in the wild before reaching its entry in the dictionary, which is good because i'm sure i would have grossly misinterpreted it as well. on balance i think english getting so much vocab from french does make learning french vocab much easier than it would be otherwise, but there are times when it would really help to be bringing to the table fewer preconceived notions about the meaning of words lol.

let's talk about compris(e). so service (non) compris (service (not) included (in the price of something)) is one of the phrases i learned back when i was a kid who didn't know any french, because i was going to france and it was in some guidebook or other. then y compris (including) caught my eye very early on in my french education because i didn't know what the y was doing in there and i probably latched onto it because it looked like spanish. (the french word y has a completely different meaning than the spanish word y, but i didn't know that at the time because i hadn't learned about adverbial pronouns yet, and learning "y compris" didn't help me figure it out because it seemed to make total sense for a phrase which means "including" to contain a word meaning "and". but i digress.) and of course i learned the verb comprendre (understand) in year 1 of french. but it was not until now, TWENTY YEARS LATER, that i put together that the compris in service compris and y compris is...THE PAST PARTICIPLE OF COMPRENDRE! HELLO!!! like i knew that compris is the pp of comprendre, but i never connected it with those other expressions! and the english word comprehend also has both "understand" and "include" senses (think lizzy saying "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman" in pride and prejudice), so all the pieces were there all along! truly i am surrounded by countless wonders just waiting to be discovered.

i am continuing to take note of verbs that no one ever told me take être as auxiliary. the first one since accourir is convenir de [qqch], but it seems to only take être in some circumstances and i'm not really clear on what they are…just in literature or when being formal? the jury is out. this one is less mindblowing than accourir because it does have venir right there in it, which doesn't mean that it obviously must take être, but i feel a little more primed to accept it. accourir was just a total shock. i'm still feeling the reverberations.

favorite words to pronounce

cessation [sesasjɔ̃]

champignonnière [ʃɑ̃piɲɔnjɛʀ]

cliquetis [klik(ə)ti]

clopin-clopant [klɔpɛ̃klɔpɑ̃]

cocotte [kɔkɔt]

coléoptère [kɔleɔptɛʀ]

compensation [kɔ̃pɑ̃sasjɔ̃]

consciencieusement [kɔ̃sjɑ̃sjøzəmɑ̃]

contentement [kɔ̃tɑ̃tmɑ̃]

coquelicot [kɔkliko]

cumulus [kymylys]

cyclique [siklik]

so the mouthfeel in the C section is simply exquisite. sometimes i just say "consciencieusement" out of nowhere because it soothes me. that said, possibly my least favorite word to pronounce in the entire french language (yes even more than procureur du roi) also starts with C: chirurgie. like damn. have mercy. also found myself struggling with condamner (apparently you don't pronounce the m and you don't nasalize the vowel before it. IS THIS EVEN FRENCH????), construire (dedicating my life to learning synonyms for every sense of this word so i never have to say it out loud), and coopérant (no, not the double o! please, i'll do anything!).

favorite words period

c'est le cadet de mes soucis: that's the least of my worries. cadet is also the word you would use to talk about a younger sibling, like ma sœur cadette, so that's the association i have with it. out of all my worries, this one is the baby. aww.

avoir le cafard: have the blues, feel depressed, be down in the dumps. un cafard is a cockroach btw. i'm gonna need my fellow anglophones to either learn this french expression or at the very least calque it into english because i use it all the time now. lads i got the roach today…yeah no i'm gonna have to reschedule, it's that damn roach…

c'est fort du café: that's a bit much, that's going too far, that's pushing it. the coffee is too damn strong! dial it back people!

the C section contains both cahin-caha (with difficulty) and clopin-clopant (with a limp, falteringly). i'm always a sucker for (quasi-)reduplication! and with these two in particular, i like the way that the sounds rock back and forth, like an aural representation of the action they would describe.

renvoyer/remettre [qqch] aux calendes grecques: postpone [sth] indefinitely. i was confused by this one because i looked up calendes and naturally it translates as calends, which as a former latin student i know to be the first day of the month (just as the ides is a specific day in the middle of the month) in the ancient roman calendar. but according to this random website whose trustworthiness i have not determined, that's precisely the point: to postpone something until the calends of the greeks is to never do it, because the greek calendar doesn't even HAVE a calends. makes me think of that episode of parks & rec when ron had like 90 meetings on the same day because april had been scheduling all his meetings for march 31st, thinking that march only has 30 days. damn, should have scheduled them all for the greek calends. the french could have told her that.

calter/caleter ([qqch]): shift [sth], move [sth]; scram, scat, leg it. i will just be scooping this up and squirreling it away in my hoard of ways to talk about getting the hell out of dodge, thank you…

faire un câlin is to hug…or to have sex!! why does french keep doing this to me. i just want some affection-related words that are not also sex slang, is that so much to ask??

callipyge: endowed with a nice butt. i am not making this up, it is a word and it is in this pocket french dictionary. would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for the meeting at which they decided to keep this one in. "callipyge? oh yeah that one's essential." done and dusted. (okay after i wrote this i did hear moira say "my callipygean ass" in an episode of schitt's creek i was rewatching, but i think that still proves my point, because moira.)

une cambuse: can't believe there's an entire word for "hovel" that victor hugo never used in les mis. monsieur come collect your word (that also means "ship's galley")!

un camembert: obviously there is a cheese called this but DID YOU KNOW it's also the word for pie chart?? that's so french omg.

faire la carpette: bend over backwards to please someone; lie on the floor. i love the double meaning: figuratively being a doormat or literally just being flat on the ground. oh carpet we're really in it now…

faire la carpe pâmée: feign unconsciousness. quick, they're looking this way! do the fainted carp!

so many great casse- compounds, including three that all mean snack (un casse-croûte (lit. break-crust), un casse-dalle, un casse-graine (lit. break-food)). there's a whole bunch of casse-[body part] compounds: un(e) casse-couilles (lit. break-balls) and un(e) casse-pieds (lit. break-feet) both mean pain in the ass, while un(e) casse-cou (break-neck) is a daredevil and un casse-tête (lit. break-head) is a brainteaser, a conundrum, or a club/mace. the adjective casse-gueule (lit. break-face) means risky, dangerous, tricky. i also checked my separate french slang dictionary (you can't expect me to have just ONE french dictionary, come on) because i thought it was weird that there was no casse-cul even though the word cul is like the number one word to put in french idioms, and guess what. un(e) casse-cul is ALSO a pain in the ass. i am feeling so smug about this extremely obvious deduction. eat yer heart out, hercule poirot!

ça passe ou ça casse: it's make or break. love me a pithy rhyming cliche! i hope they say this on french reality shows…i can totally imagine it in a dramatic announcer voiceover.

je me casse: i'm outta here. yes!! another one for the casual farewell arsenal!!!

être assis(e)/avoir le cul entre deux chaises: have a foot in each camp, be sitting on the fence, be caught in the middle. literally: be sitting ass between two chairs. just such a good image.

appuyer sur le champignon: step on the gas. why is the gas pedal a mushroom? heck if i know, but i am on board with it and ready to be charmed.

tenir la chandelle: be the third wheel. listen, it was probably really complicated to have sex back in the days of 1) complicated dress and 2) no electricity. maybe you need someone to illuminate all the tricky fastenings you're trying to undo…that's where the candle guy comes in.

passe ton chemin !: on your way/off with you! i am collecting soooo many ways to tell people to leave. if i could just go back twenty years to that one time i was in a phone booth in the south of france with a friend who was being harassed by an adult french man…i sure would be able to yell something at him in the right language this time. rick steves taught me how to propose to someone in marriage but not how to rebuff a creep. come on, rick! priorities!

être comme cul et chemise: be thick as thieves, be bosom buddies. literally, be like ass and shirt, which maybe didn't age super well, because these days most shirts don't even cover the ass 🙄 interestingly, i looked up "be in cahoots with [sb]" on wordreference to see if that was also a possible translation of this expression, and it turned up être en chemise avec [qqn]. which is maybe just a slightly less vulgar way of saying comme cul et chemise? i don't have a great sense for how rude of a word "cul" is considered to be, since as i mentioned previously it appears in approximately five hundred thousand french expressions.

just to throw another thing in the mix, être en cheville avec [qqn] ALSO means to be in cahoots with [sb]. maybe être en chemise avec is what happens when être comme cul et chemise and être en cheville avec have a baby?? (before reading this dictionary i only knew about the "ankle" sense of cheville, but apparently it's also like a dowel that you use when building stuff? so that's probably the sense that's being invoked in this expression.)

chiche (incidentally, pronounced just like "sheesh") is an interjection meaning "i dare you!" (it's also an adjective meaning stingy.) this section of the dictionary also has cap ou pas cap ? (cap: short for capable), which appears to mean the same thing. kids gotta have ways to taunt each other into doing dumb shit. it's a universal law, probably.

bête comme chou: dead simple, easy as pie, easy-peasy. literally, stupid as cabbage. it's so easy a cabbage could do/understand it, and cabbages aren't exactly known for their feats of intelligence or skill. remembering this one should be bête comme chou. (i wish i could leave it there but i did actually look up the etymology of bête comme chou and it seems to be more that chou was slang for ass, so calling someone bête comme chou was like calling them a dumbass, and then at some point the meaning shifted to refer to things a dumbass can't do or understand rather than the dumbass themselves. but "so easy a cabbage could do it" is easier to remember, so.)

faire chou blanc: come up short, come up empty-handed. i was reading this thinking, man, the french sure don't think much of the capabilities of cabbages, but i looked up the etymology of faire chou blanc and this actually comes from the berry dialect, where coup is pronounced chou. un c[h]oup blanc was a phrase used in the game of quilles (skittles, related to bowling) for when you fail to hit any pins whatsoever. so faire chou blanc is basically to throw a gutter ball!

ferme ton clapet !: shut your trap! jotting this down for my trip in time back to that one phone booth harasser guy 👀📝 he will rue the day i built a time machine and also the day i decided to read the entire french dictionary.

prendre ses cliques et ses claques: pack up and leave, take one's things and go. listen, i'm a simple guy. you put two words that sound almost the same right next to each other and i eat that shit right up. also, as established i have this weird obsession with learning as many ways as possible to talk about removing myself from situations. so welcome to the fold, my child. you may have clique-claqued your way out of wherever you were before, but you are home now. allow me to introduce you to all your new siblings.

des clous !: no way!, no chance! clous are nails. don't look at me, i don't get it either. i just think it's catchy.

le petit coin: bathroom. literally "the little corner". as far as euphemisms go, i much prefer this to "the little boys'/girls' room".

c'est le comble/c'est un comble: that takes the cake, well now i've heard it all, you couldn't make this up. le comble is the pinnacle of something, the most [thing] that [thing] can be. so it's like whew, there's no beating that! also it comes from the latin word cumulus btw.

comme tout: as anything, as can be. in other words, af.

en compote: aching, sore. as though your muscles have been pureed into jam i guess?

une contrepèterie: a spoonerism! this is when two sounds in a phrase are switched, changing the meaning of the phrase in a comical way ("the lord is a shoving leopard" for "the lord is a loving shepherd", for example). the french example given in the wikipedia article for spoonerisms is "femme folle à la messe et femme molle à la fesse" ("insane woman at mass, woman with flabby buttocks") from a novel by rabelais. (which is kind of giving me freak in the sheets lady in the streets vibes now that i think about it.)

convivial(e): convivial, friendly, congenial, of course, but also easy to use, user-friendly! i find this so charming. i am truly so easy to please.

sauter/passer du coq-à-l'âne: go off on a tangent, be all over the place. literally, jump from the rooster to the donkey. makes sense to me. you thought we were talking about the rooster? well, now we're talking about the donkey. try to keep up.

les coquelicots: period, menstruation, time of the month. un coquelicot is a poppy, but les coquelicots? watch out. i haven't confirmed this, but i'm choosing to believe it's because of the color. also, i love poppies, and i love the word coquelicot. if getting my stupid period gives me the opportunity to say this fun word, i'll take it.

corser [qqch]: spice [sth] up (figurative or literal); complicate [sth]; flavor [sth]. my first thought was "is corsican cuisine known for being spicy??" but the etymology of corser is actually from the word corps, meaning body. so, you're giving body to something. neat! there's also se corser (get complicated, thicken), as in la situation se corse (the plot thickens). oh yeah. now we're cookin'.

en tenir une couche: be a dumbass, not be playing with a full deck. une couche is a layer, so i'm thinking this is like not having much going on under the hood. what you see is what you get. there's nothing under the surface. nobody at home.

ma couille: dude, mate. i definitely need ways to say dude in french. couille means testicle btw, because of course it does. this is french we're talking about.

un coupe-coupe: machete. literally, a cut-cut. if only more french words were formed using this logic!! i could get used to this.

le crachin: drizzle. which also allows you to say the truly incredible phrase il y a du crachin (it's drizzling). (cracher is to spit.)

ça craint: that sucks; life sucks. craindre [qqch] is to be afraid of [sth], so i don't totally get the connection, but i say "that sucks" all the time, so it's nice to have a way to say it in french. actually, it would be better if things could just suck less. but that does seem more difficult than just learning some words.

avoir un (petit) creux: feel peckish. un creux is a hollow so this is giving me vibes like please sir 🥺 my tummy is a lil empty 🥺👉👈

le cuir: leather, but also apparently the word for making a liaison (aka pronouncing the letter on the end of a word because the following word starts with a vowel) when you're not supposed to. no idea what that has to do with leather, but i do find myself kind of charmed against my will to know that there's a specific word for this mistake i make all the time. i guess that means i'm not alone. OR they made up the word just for me 🥰 either way, a win imho.

avoir du cul: be damn lucky. okay the rest of these are cul idioms. i told you there were a lot, so i have just picked my very favorites.

avoir la tête dans le cul if translated literally would be more or less "have one's head up one's ass", mais attention because apparently in french it means be half-asleep, be dozy, feel like shit. so if someone says j'ai la tête dans le cul, they are probably not inviting you to join them in roasting them for being a dumbass. word to the wise.

en avoir plein/ras le cul (de [qqch]): be sick and tired (of [sth]), be fed up (with [sth]), have had it up to here (with [sth]). french truly is a beautiful language.

saving the best for last (but also, it just came last in the alphabet): et mon cul, c'est du poulet ?: yeah, right!, my ass! literally "and my ass, it's [made of] chicken?" i assume i don't have to explain why this brings me such joy.

next up…51 pages of Ds! (which i actually finished reading long ago and am now in the E's but shhhhh)

#and my ass‚ it is made of chicken?#yeah okay i'll incorporate that into my lexicon.#french #lecture du dico #my posts #links #cuts #linked to #cul idiom count: only 7! you have no idea what a feat of curation this was. there are soooo many cul idioms u guys...#ps i actually only have one french dictionary if you don't count french-english dictionaries #if you do count them i have four french dictionaries #because obviously i just have a regular old french-english english-french dictionary #then i have one of those but specifically for slang. it is however from 20 years ago so it's unclear how dated it is #then i have a 'dictionary' of french idioms that translates them into english. i guess that's not exactly a dictionary though #i also have at least one little guidebook #but honestly mostly i use online dictionaries lol #i've been thinking lately i might go down from 3 pages a day to 2 pages a day #what's the rush? plus i am now going through sections faster than i can write about them #so we'll see. that would still have me finishing less than a year after i started #and then who knows? there's always the slang dictionary...#😎

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kiruamon · 1 year

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Paper Heart (Part 2: The Present)

Sorry, sorry for the wait. The chapter keept going and going and ended up to be so much longer than I planned! (And I had to translate it which took also a good while.) But now I wish you much fun with the second part of my silly little story!

Has it really been almost a year since you started living by yourself? Living all alone in this house you call home. Sometimes it still feels like your parents could suddenly show up at the driveway of the house. As if nothing had ever happened. Just like they always did. Sometimes they disappeared off the face of the earth for a few weeks because of a job, sometimes even for months. The longest period - when you were sixteen - had been six months that felt like forever. But at least back then they had called or sent you a letter every now and then. However, when your parents left for the last time, they only told you that they had to go away for a while because of work. That you should take good care of the house. Where if anything should happen, you would find their papers in case of an emergency. Just in case you needed those. To tell the truth, to this day you have no idea what to do with their research notes. The mountains of folders contain dozens of indexes and random old newspaper and internet articles and handwritten notes on all the junk in the basement that must have collected layer after layer of dust there over the years. Broken, maybe antique furniture and pseudo-occult stuff that your parents collected there while keeping you away from it. You lost interest in trying to look around down there many years ago.

All you know for sure is that one of the reasons your parents were almost never home is all that stuff down there. As a child, you often felt alone because of it and… …you still do whenever you're in this house. It feels too big and empty for one person to live here. But you had this feeling even before they disappeared. It has only grown a bit over the last year. That's probably why you spend so much time in the garden or go on strolls for hours in the nearby fields and woods. Luckily, you can at least count on your best friend not to forget you. Mitchell and you hang out a lot. Either at his place or here. Sometimes he brings his little brother Gavyn with him. It's nice having them around. You're even grateful when Mitch - as he often does - just waltzes in on you without a warning. You know he's worried about you. That he knows that you quickly feel uneasy all alone, even though you always insist that you are fine with it. That you are used to it and can handle it.

… you wish you knew if your parents were okay. If they had an accident. Or… just abandoned you for good, although you don't know why they would do that. Was it because of you? Or was it because of them? Or neither… Or maybe they got into some dangerous business. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time with their strange research. Maybe that's why they can't come back. Of course, you did call the police at some point. But since your parents are adults and you are also of age, the whole incident fizzled out pretty quickly. You remember how tense you had been watching the news for a while. Always with a lingering fear of hearing or reading their names when an accident or another disaster was mentioned. The police simply assumed that they left for good. By now, you almost believe that, too. Either way, there is no point in thinking about it any longer. You've already gone over this issue too many times in your head to waste any more hours on it when there's nothing you can do about it anyway.

Neither does it do you any good to stick to their old rules any longer when they are no longer there. You've always ignored the basement ever since you got in trouble for playing down there when you were in elementary school. You don't remember the details of the incident very well. Only that you must have been alone at home that night and probably felt lonelier than usual. And although you always followed the rules of your parents, you decided to go down to the basement to look around. Of all the things that had been stored down there, it had been some huge, old doll that had caught your eye. It had a weird chamber in the chest and for some reason that you can't remember because it was so long ago, you had made a heart for it and put it in there and pretended it was alive. You probably just wished for someone to be there for you that night. What you clearly remember is the scolding you got from your parents the morning after. For being down there and playing with things that were probably too valuable for the hands of a child. It's hard to blame them for that - especially since they'd never scolded you otherwise - even if their reaction seemed a bit over the top to you today. You also remember… how you cried your eyes out when you saw the torn pieces of the paper heart on the kitchen table.

After that, you were never down there again. Your parents had hidden the key to the basement in a new place. Some years later you stumbled upon the hiding place by pure coincidence, but you never took the key and acted as if you didn't know where it was until today. It simply didn't bother you anymore what old stuff your parents stored down there. Normally you wouldn't have seen any reason to go down to the basement, but this morning when you were half asleep and staggering down the stairs to the first floor, you thought you heard a noise coming from there. Maybe mice. Hopefully not rats. In any case, you decided to go down there after work to check things out. Maybe you have to set up some live traps in case of trouble and to get rid of the uninvited visitors before the situation gets out of control.

Your fingers feel the underside of the desk top in your parents' study and bump into the taped key there. Good. So the hiding spot hasn't changed again. Carefully, you peel off the tape and detach it from the old key and make your way to the basement stairs. Arriving in front of the door, you try to insert the key into the keyhole. The old key doesn't go in easily, but with a little willpower and a few rattles, you manage to unlock the door. Maybe the door has warped a bit over the years… something you could take a closer look at another time to see if you can fix it. For now, you just open the door and shiver a little as a cold breeze brushes your bare arms. Weird. It must be because of how long the basement had been sealed off. There are no windows down here that could be left open. A dusty smell hits you as you take a step into the dark room and your hand searches the wall next to you for the light switch that should be somewhere around here. You feel plastic under your fingers. Luckily, the old ceiling lamp still comes to life as you flip the light switch. "Let's see… ", as expected, there is a lot of old, dusty junk lying around on the shelves and in the glass cabinets. Everything is marked with some kind of numbered label, which at least hints at a certain type of system. You put yourself in motion and keep looking for traces of furry roommates somewhere in the nooks and crannies, wandering deeper and deeper into the miniature labyrinth of old furniture and other curiosities. From time to time you have to squeeze yourself through particularly narrow passages. But so far… no sign of any mice, rats or other animals. That's actually pretty good. Maybe the noise did come from outside. You have almost reached the end of the room when you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Between a shelf and a nearby glass cabinet, a figure crouches on the floor, half slumped over. Confused, you turn your head to get a better look at it. "Oh. So this is where you've been." Well… where else if not here, right? A small smile flashes across your face as you gaze at the lifeless doll. Seeing it definitely brings back a certain nostalgia. Without hesitation, you approach it and squat down in front of it to get a better look. By now, it looks even gloomier than you remember it. Cobwebs hang between its head and shoulder and you feel sorry for the puppet, how it sits so forgotten and lonely here in the dark. You don't think twice as you reach out your hand and gently wipe away the cobwebs hanging from it. "Well old friend?" you murmur softly to it. It feels a bit like you're seeing an old friend again after a long time. "It's been some time. Do you still recognize me?" Of course, it doesn't give you an answer. How could it? Back then, you just imagined it was talking to you. But it's okay. Your hand wanders further, strokes the cracked chest and you can feel the grooves that hint at the hidden chamber behind it. That's right. There had been a flap. Automatically, you search for a hold with your fingernails and gently pull on the flap until it opens, exposing the chamber in the doll's chest. You blink, staring curiously into the secret chamber. The cavity is as black as if its inside were covered with soot. Or as if it was swallowing up all the light inside. But perhaps it is simply due to the sparse light conditions down here, you think. For one night, a heart had rested in this chamber. A messily cut paper heart that you had decorated with all kinds of stickers, drawings and trinkets to give it to your friend. But now there is only this hole in which yawning emptiness exists. The sight is downright depressing. "Not much going on in there, huh?" you ask quietly, knowing you're just talking to yourself. Gingerly, you close the flap for now. "Well, maybe we can clean you up a bit. Wipe off all that grime." The cracks look rather bad though. There are pieces missing everywhere and you are not sure if it is possible to repair them. Maybe an expert could fix it, but you don't have your hopes up too high.

"Come on. Let's get you upstairs first and give you a closer look," you grab one of its long arms and carefully put it over your shoulder, then you do the same with the other one and hoist it onto your back so you can give it a piggyback ride. "Whew. Okay… not exactly a lightweight, are we?," you grunt softly. Your old friend is much heavier and bigger than it looked while sitting. You have to adjust the weight on your back a bit before you find a good footing where it isn't about to fall off your back. Its arms and hands dangle lifelessly back and forth in front of your chest. "Hold on tight I don't want you to fall off," you mutter half-jokingly and make your way back to the door with slow and careful steps. It's not so easy with your new friend on your back, but somehow you manage to shuffle past the junk without any mishaps. You use your elbow to flip the light switch and carefully push the door shut with your foot as you step out of the basement. The stairs are a bit of a challenge and you move up more slowly to avoid losing your footing on the steps and tumbling all the way back down with your friend. Otherwise that would probably end in more than a few scratches.

When you finally reach the kitchen and set the old doll down on one of the chairs, you need a brief pause to catch your breath. Normally, you're used to lugging heavy stuff around because of your work in the garden and your job. But at least you can take a better look at the doll up here in the daylight. However… sadly you realize that it is in an even worse condition than you already saw in the basement. The fabric of the pants, the night cap and the collar around the neck are completely moth-eaten. There are chipped off larger and smaller pieces all over the arms, hands, and body. The odd spikes on its head are sharp and clearly there are larger pieces missing. A weird piece of paper with some illegible scrawl is stuck to the back of its head, which you figure out is pretty easy to peel off. Since it doesn't seem to belong directly to the doll, the paper just ends up in the trash can for paper waste. After that, the inspection continues and you pucker your mouth a bit as you spot the next big damage. "Oh boy… that looks bad." A large hole gapes at the back of the doll's body. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to extend all the way up into the chest cavity.

And yet you have the feeling that your friend is probably beyond saving. Perhaps you would do him a greater favor if you showed him some mercy and sent him to the scrapyard… You hesitate, walk to the kitchen sink and grab one of the cleaning rags to soak it with water and wring it out. Before you know it you're already wiping the dust and dirt off his face. "Let's clean you up before we do anything else," even if you're going to take him to the scrapyard tomorrow, you want to at least do this much for him. You give him a small encouraging smile and continue to wipe him clean, rinsing the rag every now and then to remove the stubborn layers of dirt, dust and unidentifiable stains that cling to his body.

It's already evening when you're finally done. He still gives off a rather sorry sight, but it's still a little better than it was before. There's not much more you can do for him… Except… You raise your head a little. There is one thing, perhaps, that you can do. Just for old times' sake. And maybe also because you feel you owe it to your eight-year-old self. Faster than you can reconsider, you've already brought a pair of scissors and some old craft supplies from your room into the kitchen and spread them out on the table, eager to get to work. For his final journey you want to give him something on his way. You are still no expert at crafting. But at least this time the heart-shaped cardboard template looks a bit better than the old version. And maybe you're a tad proud of that. You try to remember what the original heart looked like, but you can't quite remember the exact details. What color did you choose for the heart? Red? No, it was definitely not red. Your gaze wanders over the colorful sheets of paper in front of you. Blue? Yellow? Both? You think you somehow used both colors. "Hmmm… how about this… ", you use your template to cut out both a yellow and blue heart and simply glue the two hearts together. Now you have both - a yellow and blue side for the heart!

What else? You glued all kinds of stuff on it back then. But you have no idea where your old sticker books have gone. Probably such old stickers wouldn't stick very well anyway. You could try to draw something on the front and back. But well, that's not your big strength either. Perhaps it could be a little simpler, after all, it's the thought that counts in the end. So you decide to write down in words whatever comes to your mind and what you probably wanted to express with your decorations as a child. The blue side facing you comes first. And immediately the star and moon stickers pop into your mind. So you write down the words moon and stars. What next? What else can you think of? You've got plenty of room. "Maybe… night, sleep, rest… um… whisper?", slowly the blue space starts to fill up a bit. It's like you're playing an association game. All by itself, your head adds more words to the previous ones, which your hand immediately writes down. Shadows, because the night is full of them and not everything is as bad as it seems at first sight. At night the world seems mysterious, almost strange. As if it was full of magic. You also think of music. Some soft melody that makes you fall asleep. Perhaps you only think of it because you turned on the radio earlier to fill the silence in the house. But you wonder a little what it would say about you, if someone would analyze this. Anyway. You turn the heart over to the yellow side.

"If one side is the moon, then this one is the sun," plus the friendly yellow just fits too well. Good. So what do you associate with the sun? "The day. Warmth," plenty motivated you write down your thoughts. The day brings fun with it. You can meet your friends to laugh and play games with. You have more pep in your step and are more motivated. Wow, some of that sounded pretty much like stuff a kid would write down and you laugh quietly at yourself. "Well, it fits good enough," your younger self would definitely agree with what you wrote down here. You look over at the doll with a grin. What else could you write down? "What else could I give you to take along?" you ask yourself quietly, looking down at the paper heart again. There were so many things. So many wonderful things. "May there always be a light inside your heart - no matter how small - that will guide you even through the darkest of times," for the blue side. "May you find the courage inside you to face even your worst fears and never forget how much beauty there is in this world," for the yellow side. … okay, okay, now that sounded a bit like something you directed at yourself. Super cheesy as well, you think to yourself, a tad embarrassed but smiling nonetheless. But hey, no one but you would ever get to read this anyway.

Good, now there's hardly any space left on the two pages. Your eyes roam over all the craft supplies. You notice the little tins filled with colored glitter. Hmmm… Would that be too over the top, perhaps? "… Oh, why not?" Surely a little extra sparkle can't hurt! So you carefully drag one of the glue sticks between the written words over the yellow side of the heart a few times, and then sprinkle some gold colored glitter on top of it. After that, you have to be patient until it dries before you turn the side over and coat it with glue as well and then decorate it with silver glitter. "Nice work," you say with a proud grin and examine both sides of your work once again with satisfaction.

"It might not be exactly the same, but I hope you don't hold it against me," you joke light-heartedly, looking into the hollow eyes of your silent friend. Now that the heart is finished, you get up from your seat and stand in front of the doll that had been waiting patiently on the chair next to you for the last half an hour. Gently you open the flap to the chamber in its chest again. Even up here with better lighting, its insides remain shrouded in total darkness. Pretty weird. But you don't think too much about it. You shrug your shoulders and carefully grasp your self-made heart. "Even if it doesn't make you whole anymore… Maybe it will at least fill a little of the emptiness inside you and can accompany you on your final journey." Gently, you place the heart in his chest, with a feeling as if you were dipping your hand in ice water until you pull it back out of the chamber, shuddering. You frown in bewilderment at this sensation and look at your hand. Nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. Except... for all the glitter and glue clinging to it! You chuckle softly at the sight. You'd better wash that off or you'll have that stuff all over your face and on your clothes later. But before you do, you carefully close the flap and throw a warm smile at your silent friend. "It's almost like old times now," you say with tenderness in your voice. Well, except for the fact that you're not a little kid anymore. Other than that, it's amazing how little has changed. You're still talking to a doll. Maybe you should try socializing more if you're so eager for someone to talk to. Your eyes wander to the clock above the kitchen door. "Eight-thirty already?" you hadn't realized it was so late. A glance out the window also tells you that the sun has nearly disappeared. A last strip of red light blinks over the hedge that surrounds the back garden. Time to make yourself something for dinner, you guess.

You turn away from the doll and head for the sink to wash your sticky hands clean before preparing dinner. You've barely taken three steps when a noise causes you to flinch suddenly. It sounds as if something heavy had fallen to the floor somewhere behind you. The doll, it goes through your mind and you already imagine in your thoughts how it must have slipped off the chair. … did it stay in one piece? Worried, you want to check if everything is all right with it and hope that it survived the fall without further damage. But you don't even have a chance to turn around and look at the doll to confirm your suspicions. Right and left to your side, hands shoot out of nowhere, grabbing you before you even realize what's happening and dragging you backwards with such force that you can't breathe. You are far too perplexed to scream. It takes a moment before a feeling of panic strikes you. But now that it's there, it swells with every second, like a spreading fire in a wooden house. Your heart pounds as if you've done a sprint and speeds up even more as you feel your body pressed tightly against something stiff. Your breathing becomes more frantic. What is this? What is happening here? The hairs on your arms stand up as a cold shiver runs over them.

Someone has grabbed you, you finally realize. Someone has entered your home and is holding you captive. Unnaturally large fingers dig into the fabric of your T-shirt, fueling the sinking feeling in your stomach that you are in some serious trouble right now. That's definitely not Mitch, who snuck in through the open patio door and is just trying to surprise you with an unannounced visit. You don't dare turn your head to look at your captor. The stranger still says nothing. Gives no instructions or anything else that tells you what his intentions might be. He just holds you tight. Which only makes the whole thing so much worse, because it fuels your brain with the worst possible outcomes and makes you break out in cold sweat. Will you end up with a knife in your back or chest any minute now? Are they going to drag you off? Do they want to rob you? Or does this have something to do with your parents and whoever this is wants to get their revenge on you now, too, for some crazy reason?

"Look… I-I have… n-no idea w-what you want… b-but if it's just money or something… t-then just… t-take whatever you want… " Your voice is shaking like crazy, just like the rest of your body. If they weren't holding you, your legs probably would have already given way. You feel tears welling up in your eyes from the desperation of this situation and which are clouding your vision. You are terrified. And still they remain silent without telling you what they want from you. Seconds are passing insufferably slow, just feeding your panic and fear even more. One of the two hands removes itself from you. This is probably the moment when the knife comes! Or a pistol… In the movies and newspapers, it's always like that. Your stomach tightens as if it could already feel the blood flowing from the upcoming wound. Breathing becomes almost impossible by now, and you squeeze your eyes so tightly shut that it already hurts. You don't want to see it coming when it happens and you hope it will be quick. So fast that you might not even notice.

Something brushes your cheek. Cold. It doesn't feel like a knife or a gun, though. Your irritation-flooded body needs a moment to identify it as a finger. The stranger strokes your tear-soaked cheek. He does so with such extreme care that you blink in disbelief and open your eyes. You're still alive, you realize, and gasp for some air. Only now do you notice that the hand around your belly did also become much looser. Maybe you could escape, if only you were able to think clearly. His fingers feel cool while they move from your cheek to your chin, slowly lifting it until something other than the kitchen ceiling enters your field of vision. You're not sure what you're seeing at first. Your head only processes bits and pieces that catch your eye. You see dark blue fabric, yellow stars on the nightcap that dangles from the intruder's head. A shiny golden bell swings back and forth above your head, making a soft tinkling noise. The stranger's eye sockets glow in a dim, soft red light. One white eye and one red eye stare down at you without blinking once. The round face is split into a light and dark side. Almost like a crescent moon in the night sky. Moon and stars, you think. It is impossible to take your eyes off this sight and you may have held your breath for a moment as you slowly put the pieces together in front of you. This is not a mask. This is not a man. Or even a human. Not an intruder. Not a stranger. You brought him up here yourself. He looks different. But you still think you recognize him. You see his mouth, stretched into a wide grin, which certainly wasn't there before and how it slightly shifts. His voice is soft and like a whisper as he mouths a single word to you: "Friend."

"…" The lump in your throat loosens while your body continues to feel tense. "… hi… ", you stammer quietly. It's all your overwhelmed head can manage as a response at this moment, while you still stare up into the face of the doll that has come to life. Somewhere on the way between the basement and the kitchen, you must have hit your head pretty hard. Maybe you did fall down the stairs trying to carry him up here. Lying unconscious in front of the basement door and imagining something. This simply can't be real… It's impossible. And yet you can still feel his fingers on your skin and how the weight of his arm now rests gently on your shoulder instead of pressing against your stomach. … Maybe it's a very realistic dream….

"… would… ", your voice falters for a moment and you need a second attempt to find it. "Would… you maybe let me go?", you ask as careful as possible and indeed, surprisingly, he follows your request. "Th-thank you," you mumble under your breath, quietly and somewhat uncertainly, almost expecting that he might grab you again right away. But nothing like that happens. You slowly take a few shaky steps forward before you turn around on unsteady legs to get a better look at what you're dealing with here. He's… freakin' huge, and that's despite the fact that he's standing in front of you in a somewhat crouched position. His head turns slightly to the side, his eyes watching your every move curiously, like a cat seeing a mouse for the first time in its life. You swallow a little.

Apparently you're not the only one of you who wants to know what he's dealing with here. You run a hand over your head and through your hair. Your hands still feel somewhat sweaty. Haha… hah… this just has to be a dream… just… a very realistic dream… A doll can't just come to life! There's no such thing! It cannot exist. You look past him to the chair where you had put the doll earlier, but of course it's empty. After all, he is standing right in front of you. You swallow again and look up at him. He hasn't moved an inch. Almost as if he's waiting for you to do something. You honestly have no idea what he expects from you. Or if he really expects anything from you. Take a deep breath. In and out. In and out. Calm down. There seems to be no danger to your life for now. "So… you… are?" you ask in a first timid attempt to learn more about the being before you. "A friend," comes his immediate answer. He sounds fully convinced of it. Like it's a simple fact that he establishes in his unusual whispering voice. "O-okay… okay," that's the second time he's said that now. You're still pretty nervous, but it's nowhere near as bad as it was a few minutes ago, and seeing him right in front of you like this makes it all a little less scary. You can handle it. Just stay calm. You put your sweaty and glittery palms together, lift them in front of your face, take another deep breath, and lower them again. It's not the worst sign that he's calling you his friend. Or so you hope… But it's also not what you wanted to know. "I meant more… what you are?" The question seems to confuse him, he stares at you, tilting his head from side to side as if thinking. Then, suddenly, he turns it further and further - like one of those fortune wheels at fairgrounds - until his head completes a full turn and pauses again in its original position. "Can't remember," is his only reply, while there's a far-too-large, unreadable grin on his face. Oooooookay, that was a teeny tiny bit creepy now… Well, more creepy than the whole situation already is. But aside from… whatever that just was, he still shows no signs on wanting to hurt you. So you scrape up your courage and try again with a different approach. "Do you have a name?" Anxiously, you wait. His eyes linger on you. "No." "Oh, no name huh," that surprises you a little. Somehow you had assumed he would have one. "Do you just not remember it or have you never had one?" is why you want to know, feeling your tension lessen a little with each word you two exchange. "Yes." You frown. Um… that wasn't a very helpful answer… You start to wonder if he can even understand you properly. Silently, you sigh. Somehow this isn't going anywhere. But you haven't given up yet! "Are you… really the doll from the basement?" you wonder quietly, directing the question more to yourself than to him, because it all seems so unreal to you. But it is strange… Where were the spikes on his head? You don't see any broken pieces lying around on the floor, which would had suggested that they had fallen off… And… besides, now that you think about it, he doesn't look so worn out anymore. The damaged areas on his body and clothes seem to have vanished completely… Strangely enough, at the mention of the basement, he ducks his head a bit and frowns a little. Almost as if the thought of this place makes him uncomfortable. Except for the discomfort on his side, he seems to be quite willing to answer you, though, because you get another short yes from him as confirmation. Good. At least this suspicion has been confirmed. So much for that…

You're still not quite sure if this is all really happening or not. Actually, there are a lot of reasons that would speak against it. You could just test it out. What should you do again to see if you are dreaming or not? Oh yes, pinch your arm. You raise your left arm in front of your chest and pinch your skin once with your fingers. Ouch! That hurt more than you expected it to! A hand comes into your field of vision, grabs your hand and holds it tightly. Startled, you look up to see a red eye and a white eye staring back at you, visibly concerned. "You're hurting yourself," his voice sounds slightly worried. His reaction surprises you so much that you automatically stutter out an, "Sorry." Your mind, meanwhile, is spinning. It hurt.

The spot on your arm still throbs mildly from the pain. And you clearly feel his hand resting around your wrist. This… this can't possibly be real. It would be beyond absurd. Far from all logic. As if in trance, you raise your free hand, placing it shakily on his face, because you simply have to make sure. He holds still, not shying away from your touch even if he seems a bit surprised by it. Slowly you stroke over every little bump and dip. Tracing the little grooves in his face with your fingers. It feels far too real to be a dream. While it should be impossible, you realize that this isn't a daydream. He is really here. Just like you're really here. "But how… " you whisper and fall silent again. You can't help but remember the half-faded memory of that evening. Your first visit in the basement. Your first meeting with your "friend". A doll. So big that you fitted into its lap. That you pretended it was real. Because you felt lonely and didn't wanted to be alone. You spent an entire evening with him as a child. Your throat feels like it's closing up. Your parents never really scolded you before. Except back then. They knew, you realize, and you see the pitiful remains of the torn paper heart as clearly before your eyes as if they were actually lying there in front of you. You cried for so long, even days later you were heartbroken and felt terrible. Because your parents had taken your friend's heart from him. 'Cause they had torn it into little pieces that you couldn't have patched up together with all the duct tape in the world. And because they had locked him back in the dark basement all alone. Oh god… that just… couldn't… be… Finally you begin to understand what's happening here. And at the same time you feel as if you don't understand anything anymore. Confused, you withdraw your hand from his face. "How can that be? How can it be that you… that you are alive?" In your heart you already know the answer, but you need to hear it. Because head-wise, you just can't understand it. Because it shouldn't be possible. Because such things as magic and the like don't really exist. Should not exist. Magic doesn't exist. Not like in the stories you know from your books. He looks at you, the index finger of his free hand first pointing at you, then tapping against the closed flap on his chest. "You gifted us with a heart," his hand rests on his chest in an downright tender gesture, almost as if he can feel the paper heart beating inside it. Wow… that's just… all a bit too much at once. "I… I don't understand how… I mean it was just… ", just a paper heart. That's all it was. So how… You didn't even realize he was still holding your right hand. Until he slowly lets go of it and you feel like you're about to lose the ground under your feet.

In the next moment his hands are already wrapped around you again and this time you understand that he is doing this to pull you into a hug. He never intended to harm you… This time he is also much more careful with you. Like you might break if he touches you too roughly. Or maybe he's just worried you might have another panic attack. You just let him hold you. And although you feel completely overwhelmed, you don't even feel a hint of fear anymore, unlike before. No idea if that is wise or not. Maybe it would be normal to be afraid. To run away from him as fast as possible. But… instead, all you can think about is how long he was locked away in the darkness. Completely abandoned and nearly forgotten with time. Perhaps he had hoped that you would set him free? That you as his friend would come one day and save him? How lonely it must have been to spend all those years down there, without knowing when someone would finally come to look after him… "… what are we supposed to do now?", you hear yourself wondering and feel your hands clinging to him, because you fear that otherwise one of you might just vanish into thin air.

You have no idea how long you both stood there before your head finally felt clear enough to fully register your surroundings. At some point, he started humming softly to himself and stroking your back. Much like you would do with a frightened child. It's soothing. You have to admit that much to yourself. Your forehead rests against his chest. Which, amazingly, actually feels a tiny bit warm and yielding. Not like a human or a normal living being, but still… He is alive. You still can't really make sense of all these things that are happening here, but… at least you've collected yourself enough that you don't feel like you're losing your mind anymore. For the time being, you hope it will stay that way. You go over all the information you've received from him so far in your head. Somehow your self-made paper heart has managed to give him some life. For the… second time. You try to remember the details of your first meeting, but it has been so awfully long ago that it is difficult for you. You think he looked a little different then. Before he came to life, he didn't look the same either. The spikes around his head are missing. And there are bells on the red bands of his wrists that definitely weren't there before. And his colors seem less pale and much more vibrant. You're not quite sure what it means. Maybe it's not too important. At least not so important that you need answers to it right away. Some questions can certainly wait. One thing is clear, though. The idea with the scrapyard is totally canceled! You already felt terrible about it when you considered that option, but now that he's alive, you have no doubt that it would be downright wrong to do that to him.

In some way, it's almost luck that your parents are gone and you now live here alone. As soon as you start thinking about it, you regret the thought. You feel guilty for thinking such things, because it sounds like you are glad that they went missing - or possibly even dead. You may have no idea why they acted the way they did back then, but maybe now that you're an adult you could have talked to them calmly about the situation? Stopped them from locking him away again? Maybe they could have given you answers to some of the questions that your friend can't seem to give you. Well… either way, there's no use thinking about it anymore. They won't be coming back… So it shouldn't be a problem to keep your friend here in the house. The nearest neighbors also live pretty far away. The house is so far out of town that usually no one comes here without a reason. So you don't have to worry about anyone discovering him soon. You don't even want to imagine the chaos that would otherwise follow. Still, you'll probably have to give it some thought. Just in case of an emergency. That is… if he even wants to stay with you… You feel your heart sink a little. You've just accepted it. But… actually, you have no idea what he is thinking about this matter. Or if he has a place where he truly belongs. To which he is drawn. You would like to ask him about it. You want to talk to him and you remember that he doesn't have a name. "Um… say… would… it be okay if I gave you a name?" Oddly tense as if you're asking him something unimaginably stupid, you await his answer. Chances are, he's not okay with this at all. His hand comes to a rest on your back in mid-motion. Carefully you look up at him, noticing that your cheeks are getting a little warmer from embarrassment, and you try to guess from his face what he is thinking. He… looks stunned. Like he didn't expect you to ask him something like that. Oh darn! It probably was a stupid idea in the first place!

"Say it," he whispers to you. His eyes resting gently on you. His smile seems much softer than before. O-okay? Guess that counts as a yes, then. "So… I was thinking… maybe… Moon," you suggest, incredibly nervous. Maybe the name is too childish… or too simple, but when you looked at him, it was the first thing that came to your mind. He just reminds you of the moon. And… and… geez. You look up at him and for some reason you're already expecting him to make a grimace. Maybe it's not such a great idea as you first thought! "I-if you don't like it then-" "Accepted," he interrupts you with a wide and almost amused grin on his face. Against all odds, he looks pleased about his new name. "Oh. Oh… good! Well then… nice to meet you Moon," you smile at him a bit sheepishly and just say the name again to test how it feels. It sounds right to call him so and he also looks at you delighted. Wow. You really feel much better now. He… likes his name. Moon likes his new name! You can't hold back the big smile that appears on your lips. Unfortunately, it is slightly dampened when you think about what you actually wanted to ask him. "Well… I… was wondering… what you're up to now. I mean now that you're alive and all," you explain in a rush. Maybe a little too rushed, but you'd rather get this over with quickly than drag out the question forever. Still, you feel uneasy about it now. As if you could lose your newly found friend right away. " … ", he seems to be thinking. His head lowers towards you. You feel it leaning gently against yours. It's strange how soothing his presence is to you. "Fulfilling your wish." What? "My… wish?" you repeat, confused and with no idea what he's talking about. You don't remember ever having mentioned anything in this direction. And he makes no attempt to be more specific. You feel his fingers digging a little more into the fabric of your shirt before they slowly loosen. The weight of his head on yours also lightens as he straightens himself a little. You have the feeling that Moon wants to say something to you. His hand moves from your back down along your arm and all the way to your hand, which he takes in his and lifts it in front of his face to take a closer look at it for whatever reason. "You should wash your hands~" For a moment, you're silent. Then the corners of your mouth move up and you can no longer manage to fight down the laughter rising in your throat.

"Seriously?" you ask, half in disbelief, half laughing. Of all the things he could have told you, this is what's bothering him the most? You fight your laughing fit with a few deep breaths, some scattered chuckles still creeping into them, and see his eyes narrow into a satisfied smile. "Fine. If you give me my hand back… " you wiggle the fingers of the hand he's holding demonstratively. "I'll gladly do as you say," you finish the sentence with an amused snort. Somehow, the tension is finally gone now. You smile kindly at him and watch as his fingers slowly let go of your hand. You had planned to wash your hands from the beginning anyway, before a certain someone stopped you by giving you the fright of your life with a hug! He follows you around the table, watching every single step you take with great interest. From opening the faucet to washing your sticky and glittery hands with a little soap under the water stream. After you finally get all the sticky and glittery stuff washed off your hands, you turn the faucet off again. Only to see a hand reach past you and push the faucet lever in front of you open and shut several times before his hand withdraws and he turns his attention fully back to you. Hmmm. You should probably give him a little crash course soon on how certain things work around the house. Just so he doesn't accidentally flood your kitchen or bathroom.

"I'll give you a little house tour later." You peer over your shoulder at him as you dry your hands on a dish towel. "I mean… " you take a deep breath. So far, none of you has said it directly. Again, you feel a small pang of nervousness rising in the pit of your stomach. It's all good. Just say what you're thinking. What's the worst that can happen? "… I was just thinking… if you don't have any other plans and… want to stay here, then it might be easier if you know quickly where everything is and how things work", you try to smile confidently, but you can't quite pull it off. Damn, you feel queasy, because you still don't know if he's planning to stay here at all. Why do you even get your hopes up? That's stupid, if not quite selfish of you. Moon can do whatever he wants and doesn't owe you anything. Besides, you would feel even worse if he would stay with you only out of pity or some weird sense of duty…

His posture stiffens a bit and he ducks down so far that he now has to look up at you instead of the other way around. "You… want us to stay?" It almost sounds like he can't quite believe it. … maybe… Moon had felt as insecure as you this whole time? Wondering if you wanted him here or if you were going to send him away. You put the towel aside, carefully turning to face him and leaning towards him to be at the same face level as he is. "I mean, you need a home, right?" Moon still seems hesitant. Or in doubt. You're not quite sure why. "Listen Moon. I… I don't want to force you to stay here if that's not what you want," you explain in a hurry, backpedaling from your last statement, thinking that he might feel compelled to follow your wishes. Perhaps you were mistaken and he was only so hesitant because he had no intention of staying here and your suggestion is now pushing him in that direction? Wow! You did exactly what you said you wouldn't do and feel upset about yourself. Hopefully you can set things straight again. "You are free to go wherever you like, I just thought… if this is a place you could stay… or wanted to stay… then… " Then… it would be nice if he would choose staying with you. But you can't say that without risking to influence his decision or make him feel bad in the end. So you keep that part to yourself.

His hand reaches out to you. You feel his so much larger, cool fingers touch your hand. Gently clasping it. His head is turned toward the floor, making it impossible for you to tell what kind of face he's making. The tip of his dark blue nightcap dangles back and forth between you. And even though you're so close to him, you have trouble understanding his voice when he finally answers you. "Are you sure? Do you really want us with you?" He sounds shaken. Almost afraid. As if he couldn't quite believe that this is what you really want. That it's too absurd that you could want him near you. Even though it hurts you to see him so crushed, you feel your little glimmer of hope from earlier coming back and gently asking to be let in. Evidently you weren't so wrong with one of your previous assumptions. Well… in this case… it might be okay if you be honest with him now. When instead of holding back, you tell him what you want to dispel his doubts. "Yes. I am sure of it. I want you to stay with me," you leave no room for doubt when you say those words. Of course you are insecure about many things and you have a thousand questions and no idea if you will find the answers to all of them. You also don't have the slightest idea what exactly he is. Surely you will encounter some problems. Perhaps not everything will always be easy. But all this doesn't change the fact that you want him to stay with you. That you want to give him a home. If you encounter problems, you will find solutions for them! That's what friends are for, after all. Together you'll get through it. "You're my friend, after all," you add with a soft smile, and with the index finger of your free hand, you give the bell on his cap a little poke, causing it to chime lightly. His head slowly lifts and finally you can look him in the face again. Moon looks like he still can't quite grasp what you've just told him, but slowly it seems to come through to him how sincere you are about it. Without hesitating, you grab his free hand and pull him up with you until you are both standing upright again. With a beaming smile on your face, you look at your tall friend. You want to show him that everything is alright and he doesn't need to worry. This time you are the one taking the initiative and hugging him. Also in order to show him that you really want him to be here. It seems to work, because you can see the corners of his mouth moving up bit by bit until he returns your smile. "Then we'll stay."

You feel sooooooo much better after this is finally settled. In fact, you're so relieved that you're just now realizing that you're pretty hungry. Well, no surprise there. Time for dinner is long overdue. The house tour will just have to wait a tad longer. Ever so carefully, you step out of the embrace. "I guess I should prepare dinner. Are you hungry too?" Could living dolls - or whatever he is - actually get hungry? And if so… did he need anything special to eat? You look at him a little questioningly, and his faceplate tilts away to the side at that unnatural angle again. Is he trying to imitate you right now? "Hungry?" he asks, and you're not quite sure if that means he's hungry or not sure what that even means. Frowning in thought, you look at his mouth. When Moon speaks, it sometimes moves, but somehow still seems like it's carved into his face, which makes it all the more amazing that Moon can show so much facial expression. The observation, while fascinating, leaves you about as wise as you were before. You have no idea if your friend here can even eat food. Logically, it seems completely impossible, but you probably won't get very far with logic, considering the situation you're in.

"Just wait… I'll prepare something and then we can test whether you can eat it or not." You don't have a better idea at hand at the moment and you doubt that an internet search on the subject would help you much. So you start rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards and the fridge for something edible that you can prepare without much effort. Always closely followed by your new roommate. A little too close, as you quickly realize when you turn away from the fridge with your hands full and almost bump into him. "Oh boy. That was close," you stifle a laugh, but have to smile nonetheless. "Moon," you say softly, drawing out the O a little. "You're welcome to watch me, but please do it in a way that I don't accidentally run into you. We don't want to cause any accidents in the kitchen. All right?" you ask him without sounding annoyed, merely giving him an amused look. Luckily, so far you've only had some vegetables, cheese, and a pack of sliced ham in your hand, and not a sharp knife. So everything turned out fine. No one got hurt and so there is no reason to panic. You can understand that this is all new to him. That he wants to know what you're doing. He's acting a bit like Gav when he was a little kid and always wanted to see what Mitch and you were doing, even if you were just fixing the tire on one of your bikes. So Moon possibly feels the same way as Mitch's little brother did back then. Thankfully, he does as you ask and stands at your side while you spread out the food from the fridge on the countertop. Yeah, this is much more comfortable when working.

Since it's already quite late, you won't start cooking anything. But at least you still have the motivation to make some sandwiches. With your newly gained freedom to move, it goes pretty quickly. In no time, the fresh vegetables are washed and cut with a knife. The tomato and cucumber slices land together with the lettuce leaves neatly arranged on the sandwich halves smeared with butter. To be on the safe side, you put cheese on two of the sandwiches and ham on two of the other sandwiches, because you're not sure which of them would be more to Moon's liking. That is, if any of it is to his taste at all. Well, you will have to try and see what works. Smiling, you lift the two plates of sandwiches. "It's nothing special, but: Dinner's ready~" you announce with a gleeful grin to your friend, and carry the plates over to a spot on the table where there's no craft stuff in the way to place them. "Come on, let's sit down." You pull up a chair for Moon and then another for yourself on which you take a seat. With the palm of your hand, you tap the empty chair next to you, smiling and motioning for him to do the same. He comes closer, his hand stroking the wooden back of the chair before he carefully sits down on it and looks at you eagerly, as if he wants to know what will happen next. The scene is actually kind of cute.

But okay, you don't want to put him on the rack any longer! You grab one of the cheese sandwiches and hold it out to Moon. "Here you go," you watch excitedly as he cautiously takes it from you and holds it closer in front of his face, where he looks at it from all sides as if he hadn't just seen how you had prepared it yourself. However… he doesn't make any attempt to eat it. On the contrary, he holds it out to you again. Huh… Does he just want to mirror your gesture from before? He seems to imitate some of the things you do. Or does he just not know what to do with it? "It's meant to be eaten," you explain, but his head just tilts to the side again, while his arm continues to be stretched out towards you. You cross your arms and put your head back for a moment, pondering. " Well… it's like… ", how do you explain eating? Oh! Maybe it would be easier to just show him! You look at him with a confident grin. "I'll show you how to do it, okay?" you blurt out being plenty motivated and thinking it's a pretty good idea. Showing, rather than telling. You bend over a little and bite off a piece of the top of the sandwich he is still holding in front of your nose anyway. "See? Like this," you say as you chew, hoping that's descriptive enough for him to understand. "You… chew it… and… swallow it behind when you're done," you try to explain further with your mouth full. Tensely, you watch Moon pull his hand back, look at the bitten part, then back at you, and no sooner as you've swallowed it down, he's holding the sandwich out to you again. His eyes shine a tiny bit brighter, making him look really gleeful. "Say, Ahhh," his voice sounds downright teasing and his mouth twists into a wide, playful grin.

You raise your eyebrows when you hear him. You didn't teach him that…. … He knows exactly what he's doing! Oh, what a trickster~! You laugh out loud and shake your head at him in disbelief. "You do realize I'm not a child you have to feed. Right?" His amused expression doesn't falter one bit. "Doesn't matter. You have to eat," he makes it sound like there's nothing more to it and that he hasn't just fooled you for his own amusement by making you think he had no idea what it meant to eat. Apparently, behind the quiet facade of your new roommate hides quite a little prankster. Which probably means that your time with him certainly won't be boring, as you happily note to yourself. "That may be true, but you could have told me something if you already knew what eating meant." "… You didn't ask. Besides, it was funnier that way~", a soft giggle reaches your ears and you roll your eyes, grinning at his comment. Well, at least he's honest enough to admit it. "Meanie," you reply without meaning it seriously, since it is way too hard to take offence at his little joke. And in fact, instead of asking him about it, you jumped to the wrong conclusions from his behavior and decided to act ahead of things. So next time you will try to play it safe first. But in any case, it also means that he already has a bit of basic knowledge. Besides, you've noticed for a while now that he understands you a lot better and knows how to express himself than he seemed to in the beginning. Which is really good! That means you can talk so much easier with each other! Maybe he can read as well? You should definitely find out! But maybe not right now. One thing at a time. "All right. I've learned my lesson. So would you be so kind and tell me if you need to eat?" you ask him, becoming a bit more serious. After all, you want to be able to take good care of him. "Eating is not necessary," he tells you as if the idea alone is very silly to him. Okay. But not necessary and not possible were still two different pairs of shoes. And the one did not automatically exclude the other. As if he had already guessed your thoughts, he keeps talking.

"We can't take it to us anyway." "Oh." Well… so much for that, then. You lightly rub the back of your neck with your hand. "I see… " That's almost a bit of a shame. It probably would have been fun to cook for two instead of just for you. But no big deal. At least you're a little smarter now! "Okay, so no edibles. But… is there anything else you need? To feel… well?" You're not sure yourself what else he might need. Water? Magic? Sunshine? Electricity? Nonsense, he is not a machine. And not Frankenstein's monster either. But does he need… some kind of energy to move? Some bizarre magic ritual? A bath in the light of the full moon or something whacky like that? Slightly braced, you hope for an answer to this question. The sly expression from earlier has disappeared from his face, suddenly looking much softer as he stares at you and assures you: "We have everything we need. No need to worry about it." You're not quite sure if that's true, but there's no reason to doubt Moon's words either. So you decide to trust him and nod slightly. "Fine, I'll take you at your word. But if there's ever anything I can help you with or so, tell me right away. No need for false modesty. Okay?", the least you can do is offer your help to him. Not that he's just holding back for some odd reason. You know how it feels when you don't say what you actually want out of consideration for others, and you'd just be happy if he'd be straightforward with you instead, if there's something you can do for him. "Agreed~." You close your eyes and breathe out slowly. Good, so that's also clarified. You've learned something new again. When you open your eyes, you find the sandwich you have bitten into right in front of your face. Again. "Now eat." He makes no move to put it in your hand, obviously wanting to continue feeding you. Also, the playful grin is back. For maybe five seconds, you consider whether it's worth the effort or your pride to get into a discussion with him that he really doesn't has to feed you to make you eat. You decide: No, it's not worth it. So you just take a good bite of the sandwich offered to you. Let him have his fun, you will certainly not let him tease you with something like this.

During your house tour, Moon followed you like a duckling wherever you led him, while he curiously looked at the individual rooms on the first floor, which included the kitchen, the living room, a small bathroom, and a guest room. You only left out the basement for obvious reasons. Since neither of you was particularly eager to go back down there. At this point, you're leaving the bathroom upstairs, which is a lot bigger than the one downstairs and also has a bathtub in it. You want to save your room for last. So you turn right and follow the hallway to the end, where there are two doors opposing each other. "And this is… this is… ", your shoulders stiffen a bit as you stare at the closed door of your parents' now unused bedroom. "Well… my parents' bedroom." Unlike the other rooms, you hesitate to open it. It still feels awkward to just walk in there, even after nearly a year. You don't usually enter it unless you air it out or do some vacuuming and dusting once a month in there. Reaching for the door handle, your hand pushes it down to open the door. You've left mostly everything as it is. Except for the bedding, which you took off at some point to wash it before putting it away in the large closet on the wall so it wouldn't collect any more dust. Unlike the other rooms, you stop at the doorstep, not entering, but give Moon a chance to go in. However, he seems to notice that this room makes you uncomfortable, because like you, he refrains from going inside and just looks at it from the hallway. "They are no longer here. They… um… never mind, it isn't that important… Anyway, it's just the two of us here. So… no need to worry, okay?" This time he doesn't have to worry about losing his heart or his newfound freedom again. Since Moon don't look like he wants to go in, you carefully close the door before turning to the other one.

Much less timidly, you open it and turn on the light as you enter. "Well, and this is their study," the room is quite large. Lots of piled up bookshelves with old looking books and file folders that line up in what feels like endless rows are in here. A large desk made out of dark wood stands near the shelves, while there is a small sitting area at the other end of the room that consists of a flat table, an armchair, and a sofa that can fit two people. Both the desk and the flat table have various writing utensils and closed folders lying around. The loose papers with handwritten notes, which used to be scattered all over the place, have been stored in empty boxes over the months and then dumped next to the armchair, because you didn't know what else to do with them. On the one hand it looks much neater and on the other hand it doesn't collect dust like that. You lean against the front edge of the heavy desk while you watch Moon walking past the rows of shelves and examining some of the books with curious interest. "They've gathered a lot of documents about all the things in the basement up here. I think it was some sort of hobby of theirs? You know, collecting antiques and whatnot and doing research on its history. They also collected all kinds of articles about some pretty wild stories and stuff like that. Some of the books are quite obscure. Folklore, tales from different regions, some pseudo-occult works that somebody came up with at some point. I've just flipped through them here and there." In the hope that it might give you a clue about their whereabouts. But it didn't lead you anywhere.

"I looked at some of the articles, too. There's… some pretty heavy stuff in there about… ", you shake your head and grimace a little. No, you decide you'd rather not tell Moon about any details of that nasty stuff. "Doesn't matter what exactly was in it. Half of it was probably just nonsense anyway," stuff that some newspapers have hyped up to make headlines or came from shady newspaper publishing companies anyway. "Let's just say… I'm not too fond of scary stories and the like," you admit with a slight sigh. One more reason why you've rarely stayed here in the study. But maybe… some of the stories and articles weren't so far-fetched when you think about who you're talking to. In a way, you are experiencing firsthand an encounter with the supernatural. Except it doesn't feel like one of those horrible horror stories at all. "Haaaaaaah," you take a deep breath to regain your composure and give Moon a small smile, who is eyeing you thoughtfully. "Anyway, they traveled around a lot because of that and for their work too." At least, that's what you've always thought… Now you're not so certain anymore, considering that your childhood experience wasn't pure imagination, and your parents clearly kept you away from Moon on purpose. For whatever reason. If you think about it, maybe their so-called hobby was more related to their week-long work trips than you always thought. Moon is silently listening to you so far. Just lets you keep talking and somehow you're quite glad he's not asking you any questions. You shove your hands into the pockets of your pants and shift your weight nervously from one foot to the other. "… but… maybe I didn't know them as well as I thought I did," you mumble, shrugging your shoulders slightly. It's not as easy for you to talk about the two as you wish. Who knows what else your parents kept hidden from you. "Anyway… you're always welcome to look around in here if you like or if you find anything in here interesting," maybe you should take a closer look at the folders yourself. Perhaps then you might be able to find out what exactly your old friend is. Well… now there's only one room left… You start smiling again, take your hands out of your pockets and hold out your hand to Moon. "Come, I want to show you my room", you are so excited to finally show it to him!

Walking hand in hand, you gently pull Moon along with you, leading him to the other end of the hallway. "Behind the door on the right is the staircase to the attic. There's just a bunch of dusty boxes with old clothes, toys and books. Oh and some furniture that's been replaced. So everything that nobody needed anymore, but was considered too good to throw away. And I guess, a dozen or more spiders are living up there. So we'd better not disturb them," you explain much more cheerfully than before, winking briefly at your friend, for which you earn an amused smile from him before turning to the other door. "And this is my room," you say, opening the door right away. Gently releasing Moon's hand, you take a step into the room and flip on the light switch. You wave cheerfully for him to come in. Moon looks at you with a visibly amused expression on his face before he accepts your invitation and follows you. Does he recognize it? The room has changed a lot since you were a child. Well, no wonder. You're not eight anymore, after all. And you definitely wouldn't fit in your old bed anymore! Your new bed, on the other hand, has plenty of room for you to spread your legs and roll around in it to your heart's content. A thin blanket for the warm summer nights and lots of soft pillows with different patterned covers are lying inside, just waiting for you to snuggle into them soon to get a good night's sleep. Except for the big, snow-white and very round bird stuffed animal that sits between the pillows on your bed and that you fell in love with when you were a kid, the rest of your toys have gone either to the attic or to the children of acquaintances of your parents over the years, where they still served a good purpose.

On the left side of the bed stands a small night table. A book is lying on it with a bookmark sticking out. Your digital alarm clock is next to it and you try to suppress a rising yawn as you read the time on the display. Normally, you'd be in bed by now. But today is anything but normal. Moon takes a good look around. He walks through your room in his somewhat cowering posture, reminding you a bit of a shy animal getting accustomed to a new environment. Everything that seems remotely interesting to him he takes in his hands to give it a closer look before putting it back at the exact spot he found it. Now he holds one of the small plastic stars in his hand, which once hung on the ceiling of your room and are now scattered on the bookshelves as decoration. The last of the luminous stars on your ceiling fell down a few years ago, which you took as an opportunity to paint the ceiling yourself a dark sea green that contrasts nicely with the rest of the light-colored walls. "They fell off the ceiling over time," you tell him, standing next to him. He turns the star back and forth between his dark blue fingertips. Looks like he likes it. Well… his clothes have a pretty straightforward theme, judging by the pattern of his cap and pants, which are covered in yellow stars. "One year, nearly every two weeks, one came off. Perfect year for watching shooting stars," looking back it was darn funny and there wasn't a morning that went by that you didn't check to see if you could find another one of the plastic stars somewhere in your bed. "One time one fell on my head in the middle of the night." Moon looks up at you. He tilts his head to the side. A smile lingers in his eyes as he listens with interest. So you just keep talking. "I didn't noticed until I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth in front of the mirror," you babble and smile a bit sheepish at him. His gaze wanders from you to the star in his hand and back again. In the next moment, he rises to his full height and gently tucks the star in his hand behind your ear. Um… what's this about? You stare at him, dumbfounded. Not moving. His face is close to yours and you notice a mischievous twinkle in his mismatched eyes. "You should have made a wish," he whispers to you and you think you hear a suppressed laugh in his voice. "Huh?", wish for something? It takes you a second before you realize he's talking about the stars. Oh jeez! Now you're back to smiling. "I don't think that counts for plastic stars." It's a cute thought, though. "Putting that aside, it would be super tough to say your wish three times as fast as they fall to the floor," you object, looking at him with amusement. Your hand carefully searches for the small star he's tucked behind your ear. "And… I wouldn't know what to wish for anyway," you confess, smiling softly, and slowly pulling the star from behind your ear before placing it back in Moon's hand. Even the heavens might not be able to make some things come true, no matter how many times you would have entrusted your wishes to it. Not that you believe much in such things as higher powers or any gods. And… it's not that you are unhappy. Everything could be much worse, you always tell yourself. You have everything you need to get along on your own. However, from now on you aren't alone anymore. The thought is still so new to you that you can hardly believe it. Moon eyes you lost in thought for a sec. The red light around his pupils flickers softly as his eyes wander back to the plastic star you gave him back. He puts it on the shelf and continues his little tour through your room.

You show Moon the rest of the room, which is quite large and spacious, just like your parents' bedroom. You really never could complain about a lack of space. There is not much left from the time when this was your childhood bedroom. Aside from a few fairy tale books, most of your children's books have been replaced by a variety of non-fiction books about plants and gardening, as that subject has taken up more and more space in your progressing life. Your favorite novels have their own little corner on the two bottom wall shelves to the left of the bed. On the upmost shelf, on the other hand, is a collection of smaller, uniquely shaped and colored nightlights. You are especially fond of the small glass dome with the wooden base on which are several pink blossoming LED tulips. Currently they are turned off, but when you turn them on they emit an incredibly pleasant light in the dark. If you feel like setting a bit of a cozy atmosphere in the evening, you turn on your little collection while you watch a movie on your laptop or listen to some music on your bed in the partial darkness.

You push the two heavy curtains aside to show Moon the hidden bay window behind them, it's the counterpart to the one in the bedroom across the hall. An upholstered bench seat with a few cushions and a bedspread are tucked inside. "During daytime, you have a really nice view over the back garden from here. I'm sure you'll love it," you love sitting here to read or just daydream a bit while staring outside. "Can't see much of it now, I'm afraid," you admit sheepishly, kneeling slightly on the bench to take a look out the window. "But when the lights are off in the room, you get a good view of the stars, if it's not cloudy," there are some benefits to living so far out of town. You climb all the way up on the bench and gesture for him to join you. If you bend your legs a little and move close enough to the window panes, there is enough room for the two of you to sit. The wood creaks a little as he joins you, but it easily holds your combined weight. Like you, he pulls his long legs as close to his body as he can and tries to make himself as small as possible. The sight automatically brings a happy smile to your face and carefully you lean a bit to the side to reach for the curtains and draw them shut so that the rest of your room is no longer visible. It's much dimmer now that the light from the ceiling lamp is no longer reaching you both with its full brightness. You lean back again, placing one of the pillows in your back to sit more comfortably, and you take on an almost conspiratorial tone as you tell him: "Now it's our little secret hideout where no one will ever find us." At least, that's what you often told yourself as a kid. "Just the two of us," he confirms cheerfully, his eyes now shining much more intensely in the dim light and reflecting in the dark window panes while casting a soft red glow on you two.

"Mhm, hey, Moon?", you almost whisper. "Yeah?" you hear him respond just as quietly. You pull your knees closer to you, resting your arms around them and your head on them. "… I'm sorry I didn't get you out of there sooner," you murmur lowly. Your heart feels heavy while you speak and you lower your gaze a little. And although he hasn't shown any signs of being angry with you about it yet, you couldn't blame him if he was. No matter how hard you try, you can't even begin to imagine how traumatic it must have been to have your heart ripped out of your chest and then destroyed. What it must feel like to spend years locked up all alone in darkness… Before you can dwell any longer on it, a hand wraps around your shoulder. You notice how Moon changes his sitting position and pulls you over to him. Before you have a chance to stop him, you find yourself sitting in his lap, forehead resting against the blue fabric of his collar. He strokes you tenderly over the head. "Not your fault," Moon whispers softly. "But… I should have… ", you attempt to speak, feeling your voice tremble as you do so. "Shh. It's all right. No need to cry. Keep the bad thoughts away." Even though he says that, you're still so terribly sorry for what happened to him. And yet here he sits, comforting you now. Shouldn't it be the other way around? "Was it painful? Were you lonely?" you ask in a quiet voice. " … ", at first he doesn't answer and you're unsure if maybe you shouldn't have brought it up. "I… don't know. Can't remember. Only blurred fragments. Flashes. Not sure why… " He lifts one hand, puts it lightly on his face as if he was touching his forehead in an attempt to remember. Meanwhile, with the other hand, he holds you a little tighter.

He… doesn't remember? Is it just the time between your reunion or… does it also include your first encounter? Your right hand wanders to his chest, where it halts over the hidden chamber. You lean a little closer against him as you listen silently. It's the only thing you can do for him right now. "Before… I woke up, everything is… like static. Vague shapes. The first clear memory is you. Your back. You felt familiar. I knew you were our friend," his hand lowers again, gently stroking your cheek and you feel his face press gently against your head in a familiar gesture. You put your arms around him, holding him close as your head spins, like a merry-go-round. Moon is suffering from amnesia. He can't seem to remember your first time together. And yet, in a way, he recognized you. Didn't forget you completely. Could it be… that it has to do with the fact that his original heart was destroyed? Is that why he has trouble remembering? You unconsciously cling to him a little more. "I… I'll take care of you from now on," you promise him. You mean it. You're no longer a helpless little kid who can only watch and cry when his friend needs help. You won't let the past repeat itself. "I know," he answers as if he never even doubted it.

By now, you feel really exhausted. Sleepy and on the brink of falling asleep. A soft yawn comes out of your mouth. Your body feels heavy and the fact that Moon has started patting your head and humming softly in your dim hideout doesn't make it any easier to find the strength to get up again. "You should sleep. It's late," you hear him whisper close to your ear. You smile a little at that. "Mhmmmm. You're probably right… but… not here," you try to shake off the tiredness and slowly sit up. "As cozy as this is… ", and dang, it really is. "… I still have to prepare a place for you to sleep first." "No need. This will do." You raise an eyebrow and look up at him, puzzled. "You sure? I mean you could have the guest room. Or I could at least get you a mattress topper and put it next to my bed if you'd rather stay in my room. I'm sure that's more comfortable for sleeping than the bench," not that you haven't managed to fall asleep here yourself, but still. "Don't need sleep." You blink at him in surprise. Oh… okay? Guess it was like the no food thing then. "Huh. Alright, I guess? Um… do you need anything else for the night then? So you don't get bored?" "I'll just watch you sleep. Scare away naughty nightmares when they sneak up on you." Looks like Moon's gone back to making silly jokes. You smile a little at this, but it's already showing how tired you are. "Not creepy at all~ But if it makes you happy, fine by me," let him watch you sleep if he wants. He allows you to climb off his lap and you slide the curtains aside to hop off the bench. "But if you do get bored at some point, you're welcome to explore the house. Just… keep your hands off any switches that aren't for turning on or off the lights or faucets for now until I have explained to you how all the stuff works tomorrow. Okay?" "Understood. We'll behave," he replies with such a sly grin that you hope he'll truly follow your request. Well, chances are he's just trying to tease you a little and will actually be good. "Great. Then… I'll just go downstairs to turn off the lights, brush my teeth and change into something comfy," you announce and search for your pajama under the blanket in your bed. Ah there it is. "Just make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back," you call out to him as you're halfway out the door.

There, you've changed. All the doors are locked, the shutters are down, and you've filled your thermos with tea when you stopped by the kitchen to turn off the lights. By now you realize how the exhaustion of the day sinks into your bones. You click the light switch and the hallway light goes off as you enter your room and freeze in the middle of the doorway, only to let out a rather loud snort shortly after. Moon sits half sunken in the large beanbag chair that stands next to the bay window. He's looking rather grumpy, and the way his long limbs stick out at odd angles beyond the ends of the beanbag doesn't look comfortable at all. You giggle softly and receive an offended look from him before he stretches his arms out to you as if asking for help. "We're sinking! It's eating us!" he says in such an exaggerated manner that it reminds you of a performance from one of those trash movies Mitch sometimes brings over to watch with you. "Coming~" you reply with a grin, but before you do you leisurely set your thermos down on the nightstand and flick on the small lamp next to it before walking around the bed towards him. "Hurry! Help us! Before we get all gobbled up!" You look at him with amusement. What an actor. He probably wouldn't have any trouble freeing himself in the first place. "It's fine. See? I'm already here," smiling, you grab his hands that are reaching out to you and pull him out of the oh-so-dangerous death trap without really having to put much effort into it. "Looks like you're still in one piece," you comment with a smile as he stands in front of you. "Just barely," Moon replies with a wide grin, and you give him a gentle smack on the chest. Which he immediately uses as an opportunity to throw himself backwards and right into the so-called death trap. He is kicking his arms as if in agony. "Oh no! You've pushed us! We're trapped again and dying!" He makes a noise as if it were his last breath and shortly thereafter remains motionless. You already have tears in your eyes from laughing. If you hadn't left your cell phone in the living room downstairs, you would have been recording a video right now. "Okay, okay. Enough dying for tonight," you grab his limply lying hand on the floor and watch as one of his eyes, which had darkened earlier, comes back to life with a red flicker and stares at you, mockingly, as you hear him chuckle softly at his own joke. A yawn is mixed in between your scattered chuckles once again, and you rub your eyes with your free hand a little. His fingers wrap around the hand that's holding him, and this time Moon is up before you could even make the attempt to pull him to his feet. "Time for bed," he murmurs and you merely nod in agreement. Sounds like a great idea to you.

You let Moon lead you to your bed while he's holding your hand. Oh, darn, you totally forgot… "I have to turn off…," the light, is what you want to say. But Moon cuts you off midsentence. "Lie down. I'll take care of it," gently he pushes you onto the mattress and you don't protest any further. You hear him scurry over to the door and in the next moment the big ceiling lamp goes dark. Tired, you crawl under the covers as you watch him come back to your bed and sit down on the floor to your left. You feel around with one hand for the switch on the bedside lamp and flip it off before rolling over to the other bedside where he is waiting. The room is completely dark now. Well… almost. Moon's red eyes glow softly in the dark. However, it's not the only thing that glows. The stars on his clothes also stick out against their dark background. He really is full of surprises, isn't he? The familiar sight of the glowing stars brings a small smile to your face. From under the covers, you reach out your hand and holding it out to him. Once again, his cool fingers wrap around yours. It is reassuring to feel his presence. To know that he is right next to you. "Good night, Moon. See you tomorrow," you mumble sleepy. A faint "Nighty-night" is all you hear before you are already fast asleep.

#paper heart #fnaf au #fnaf moon #fnaf y/n #dca #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #possessed doll au #story time #adult y/n #soft Moon #Moon also being a bit silly #The chapter kept going and going while I was writing.#also had a blast writing it #Y/N having some complicated feelings about their parents #Someone asked if the idea was based on the Candy Cadet story. Honestly I totally forgot that story existed. But I can see why you would ask #Also the au is more inspired from Annabelle Comes Home and me thinking: What if we turn the evil thing inside the doll into sth. good.#I guess whoever reads the tags and watched the movie gets some pretty good hints what the parents are doing for work and other stuff.#Like always I translate my works with DeepL and using dict.cc to countercheck single words since I'm no native english speaker.

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