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luckyspike · 5 years ago

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Adventures in America, Ch. 7 - The Mix-Up Kid

In which the storm chasers enjoy the delights of a Waffle House

Adam learns Warlock’s birthday

And a storm brews ahead

Yes, figuratively, but also literally. This is a tornado-chasing fanfiction, honestly. Did you think I wouldn’t actually put a tornado in the damn thing?

Start from the beginning: ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6

or follow this link to my fanfiction tag

Adam could have whooped when Noel informed him and Lucky that they wouldn’t be meeting in the lobby until eight the next morning. “There’s gonna be storms, probably to the northeast, but it’ll be afternoon by the looks of it. Get some sleep tonight, boys, an’ we can meet up for a late breakfast and decide where we’re headed.”

They didn’t unpack much - pajamas, toothbrushes, and that was about it. Adam took a hot shower, quick as he could, and when he got out, he found Lucky laying on top of his covers, earbuds in, face-timing with a friend. Adam gave him a thumbs-up - his turn for the shower if he wanted it - and settled onto his own bed, pulling his phone out and making sure he was connected to the wifi before he texted his parents to see if they were awake - they hadn’t been, but they were so eager to hear from him that they took his call, voices thick with sleep but happy nonetheless. He could hear Dog snoring on their bed in the background.

They were happy to talk to him. They were glad to hear he was having fun, and reminded him to be careful and stay safe. He told them about Lucky, and Noel and Rachael, and everything he’d learned so far. “It sounds like a good experience,” Arthur Young said. “Just ah … you do know when the tornadoes are coming, don’t you?”

“I mean, largely. They can be unpredictable.” He heard his mother make a worried noise. “No, mum, but like, they have this program called Baron, it’s running all the time, and it shows radar and gives warnings, and Rachael and Noel have been doing this for ages, so they’re really good at it too. And careful.” He considered telling them about the safety precautions Noel had reviewed earlier, but considered that the things he had warned them against might actually be more alarming than the safety instructions that followed, and he decided to leave it out. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry, promise. How’s things at home?”

“All well and good,” his mother replied. “We miss you of course, and Dog misses you - he was sniffing around in your room the day you left - but Anathema said she’d have a word with him and he’s settled down since then.” He heard the dog’s collar jingle as his mother, or father maybe, presumably gave him a scritch behind the ears. “He’s a very good boy.”

Adam grinned at the unmistakable sound of a small dog’s tail wagging so hard it was beating against the bed cover. “Aw, yeah. Give him a hug for me, yeah?”

“Of course, love. Arthur, hug Dog, would you? He’s closer to you.” Adam’s mother yawned, drowning out some of the grumbles in the background and the sounds of more happy tail-wagging. “Have you spoken to your friends? Oh, and Anathema and Newt asked about you this afternoon.”

“Not yet, figured it’s kind of late. I’ll send an email.” He yawned as well, prompted by his mother. “Maybe in the morning. You can tell them I’m good though, if you see anybody.” He yawned again. “Sorry, I’m kind of beat.”

“Jet lag,” his father answered sagely. “You ought to get some rest then, Adam.”

“You guys too,” the boy added earnestly. “Sorry to call so early - I’m all messed up with the time zones -”

“No, Adam, we’ve been waiting to hear from you.” He smiled, and the slight ache of homesickness that had settled in his chest as soon as he’d boarded the plane lifted a little at the warmth in her voice. “Text anytime, love, and we’ll talk if we can.” She blew a kiss into the phone. “But get some rest for now, alright? Sleep well, and let us know how tomorrow goes!”

“Will do, Mum, Dad. Talk to you guys later. Lots of love.” He ended the call, and sat back against the pillows, continuing to tap on his phone, sending the video of the hail storm off to the group and his sister. To his surprise, Pep texted back almost immediately, sending a message of ‘Dude what!’. He paused. Then he called.

“Hey storm rider!” she answered. “What’s up, Adam? Cool video!”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Hah. What are you doing up?”

“Driving in to London with the girls later today, and I couldn’t sleep. Hopefully Addie is willing to drive because I’m going to be napping.” She yawned. “So how’s America?”

“Crazy.” He laughed. “I went to Dunkin Donuts this morning.”

“Mm. America runs on Dunkin, I’m told. You meet anyone cool?”

“Well, the people I’m with are really cool.” She made a curious little noise. “So there’s Noel and Rachael, the guides - I told you about them. They’re super nice. And I think between the two of them they might know everything about weather. We drove for like, 11 hours today, and you know we only went through two entire states?”

“Wow.”

“And I napped for part of it but a lot of it they were teaching us stuff … Man, Pep, there’s so much.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I know you guys always made fun of me for how much I talk about weather sometimes, but honestly I don’t know like … anything.”

“Well, maybe not compared to the experts,” she teased. “But compared to me and Brian and Wensley you know way more than any of us.” She coughed. “So who’s ‘us’ on your trip? There’s another student?”

“Oh! Yeah. He’s cool.” Adam heard the shower shut off, and wondered how much he should really say. “He’s American, but he lived in London for a while, he said. You know, I think his dad might have even worked at the air base?”

“No,” Pepper laughed. “No way. Only you, Adam, would find the one American in the entire world who even knows about Tadfield and grew up in London. And of course he’s obsessed with weather. You should find out if he lived in Tadfield at any point, like when he was a baby or something.”

Adam considered it. “Nah,” he said at length.”What’re the odds?” He yawned, as Lucky stepped out of the bathroom, dressed only in boxers, scrubbing his hair dry with a towel. “I’m sure we’ll talk about it at some point.”

“You’d better. Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, me too.” He heard the sound of sheets and pillows being pushed around. “Might try to get a couple hours before I have to go.”

“‘M gonna go to sleep too.” He let his eyes drift closed. “Jet lag’s brutal.”

“I bet. And all that time in the car probably didn’t help.” She yawned again. “Can you send us more videos tomorrow?”

“If I see anything, yeah.”

“You think you might?”

“Dunno. Everything’s supposed to happen in the afternoon, so we’re gonna wait to see what the morning looks like.”

“Well. Send us stuff even if you don’t see anything. Send us videos of weird Americans.”

“Yeah, okay. Talk to you later, Pep.” He hung up the phone, laughing while he did so.

Lucky flopped into his own bed, yanking the covers up over himself. “Friends?”

“Yeah, back home. Pepper.”

“Isn’t England like … six hours ahead of us?”

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged. “I dunno, she said she was up. Figured I’d give her a call.” He grinned at his phone, before locking the screen and plugging it in to charge. “I sent the gang a video of the hail. Most of them prob’ly never seen hail that big before.”

“Yeah, that was wild.” He folded his hands behind his head. “Hope we get a tornado tomorrow.”

“That’d be cool.” He sighed. “Pep told me to send more videos. Said if there wasn’t anything interesting in the weather I could send her videos of crazy Americans.”

Lucky laughed. “I’ll act extra crazy tomorrow if we don’t get any weather. You can send her a video.”

“I’m not sure she’d count you since you grew up in London.”

“Nah, only until I was eleven, and even then other than the like … the housekeepers and the gardner, everyone was American. Well, except Nanny. But she was Scottish.” He shrugged. “Then my dad got reassigned back to the States and I’ve lived stateside ever since. So I’m pretty American.”

“Eleven?” Adam asked, pointedly not opening his eyes. “Huh.”

“Yeah it was weird.” Lucky yawned. “There was this whole thing in the middle east and then boom, back to America, no more England. Honestly, I think my mom was just sick of random diplomatic trips. I’ll tell you about it some time, that whole trip to the middle east was so weird.”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, faintly, feigning fatigue. “Yeah, gotta remember to tell me about it. Never been to the middle east.”

“You’re not missing anything. Avocado farms and weird professors and that’s about it, far as I remember.” He shut the light off, and rolled over, away from Adam. “G’night, dude.”

“Night,” said Adam, on autopilot. Minutes later, he heard quiet snoring, and all the better, because his mind was racing.

Most eighteen-year-old boys are, by nature, not particularly introspective. They may be bright, the may be clever, they may be well-educated and top of their class and very high-achieving, but it’s the rare boy who is capable of reflecting on all of the information presented to him, reconciling it with what he already knows, and then reaching accurate, logical conclusions that may be distressing to him. Often, denial worms its way in early, and until the correct answer knocks the boy in question directly on the head, the powerful lure of denial will always draw him away, convince him that another conclusion is more likely, or more desirable.

Adam Young, though, was not most eighteen-year-old boys. To start, he was the Antichrist, even if he’d turned his back on that years ago and preferred not to think of himself in those terms. Further, he was quietly introspective, a trait he’d developed due to, well, being the Antichrist, and always, in spite of himself, watching his own thoughts for hints of Not Being Adam. Messing About. Antichristly things, essentially.

That could be to his advantage even now, though. And right now, his mind was cranking into overdrive, combing through what he knew. Warlock Dowling - father might have worked in Tadfield, was working in England when Warlock - Lucky - was born, Lucky was raised in England. Satanist nanny and monk gardner. Random trip to the middle east when he was eleven, followed by a sudden departure from London, never to return to the UK again. Or the middle east, come to think of it.

Adam wondered if he had stayed in touch with anybody from London. Particularly, the nanny and the gardner.

It all sounded very suspicious.

“We would have been with you from the beginning, you know, but there was a mix-up,” Aziraphale had told him once, years ago. Adam remembered that he’d gone to Aziraphale crying - it happened sometimes, more then but still these days, blessedly rarely - about what he’d done in the few brief hours when he really was the Antichrist. The things he might have brought about. The fate he and the world had so narrowly avoided. “We would have loved to be with you.” Adam remembered how the angel had hugged him, stroked his hair, dried his tears. “It was an unfair burden to lay at your feet, Adam, and Crowley and I always wanted to help but … there was a mistake. Best laid plans, and all that. It doesn’t undo what was done, and I am frightfully sorry about the lead-up, the way we treated - or didn’t treat - you, but know that had we known, we would have been there. But Adam, even then, you were brilliant. You are brilliant.”

There was a mix-up.

Warlock Dowling snored gently.

The next morning dawned hot and humid. Lucky and Adam woke with the alarm around nine, and lazily set about getting ready for the day. Adam checked his phone to find messages from his friends about the hail storm (“don’t let those brain you,” from his sister and, “dude what if it hits you,” from Brian), replied when he felt it was indicated, and pulled on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. Lucky was ready to go shortly after, and they stepped out of the motel room and into the air. Lucky made a noise of disgust.

“Talk about humid.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Adam agreed, trying to ignore how his t-shirt was already sticking to his skin, even though he’d only just come outside. “Good storm weather though, yeah?”

“Should be. I’m sure we’ll get a look at the radar over breakfast.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get us a tornado today, huh?”

“Or some serious hail,” Adam agreed. A part of him - a large part of him - wanted to say sod it to the weather and have a serious talk with Lucky about his upbringing, his birth, his life to that point. How old was Lucky? They were roughly the same age, Adam knew that, but they could easily be a year or so apart, and all of the stuff that sounded suspiciously occult might have just been a coincidence. After all, it was all relatively easy to explain, in the harsh light and oppressive humidity of the Oklahoma day: American diplomat posted at a British airbase, family moved to the nearest metropolitan area, lived there for years, made a brief foray to the middle east - and America was so involved there around that time, Adam remembered, that that was hardly unusual - and then returned to America. Unusual, certainly, but not … occult. And having a diplomat for a father wasn’t exactly commonplace, so even then a bit of unusual-ness could be forgiven.

The Scottish Satanist nanny, though, reared her presence in his mind. The monk gardner. Good and evil.

Adam shook his head, when he realized that Lucky was speaking to him. They’d walked to the truck together while Adam thought and, on autopilot, he had set his stuff in the bed of the truck and closed the gate. Noel and Rachael were nowhere to be seen, not yet, but Adam thought he heard them talking on the other side of the motel. “Huh?” he said, looking to Lucky.

“Nothing,” the other boy shrugged. “Just talking about the radar. All this moisture and warmth - if we have any cold air from the northwest at all, we run a really good chance of catching a storm today.”

“Yup.” Adam leaned back against the truck and looked around the parking lot idly, arms crossed over his chest in spite of the heat. He met eyes with a stranger - a businessman, by the looks of him, dressed all in brown, with neatly-combed salt-and-pepper hair - that was sitting on the trunk of his rental car, reading a book. The two exchanged taut smiles, and the stranger returned to his book. “Hopefully out in the middle of nowhere, where we can get a good luck without too much people an’ stuff being around.”

“Yeah, that’d be ideal.” Lucky waved to Noel and Rachael as they approached. “Hey guys!”

Rachael raised her thermos in greeting. “Morning morning! You guys ready to hit it? The radar looks pretty good.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep.” Adam opened the back gate of the truck for her, and she tossed her bag in. “You hungry? I’m starving. Hop in, we’re gonna hit the Waffle House and go over the game plan.”

“No Dunkin?” Lucky looked surprised.

“Gonna mix it up today, get exciting.” Noel snickered. “And also she has her own bag that she used to brew a pot in the room earlier this morning, so she’s already fueled-up.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “She’s an addict, guys, I’m telling you.”

The boys laughed, while Rachael pointed out, “There’s worse things. Alright, load up, we have a storm to talk about, and I want some waffles!”

The Waffle House was such a uniquely American experience that Adam started taking video almost as soon as they entered. From the way the entire restaurant greeted them as they walked in, to the waiter’s accent, to the menu itself, he sent all of the snaps to his friends. There was no reply, not when it was so early in England, but he looked forward to the messages that would probably come through later, after everyone was up.

He tucked into a truly massive waffle and two eggs for breakfast, topped with a few strips of crispy bacon. It tasted exactly like he’d imagined it would, and he devoured it with gusto, finishing before Rachael even got through her second cup of coffee. Noel, still working at his omelet, pulled his laptop out of his bag and handed it over the table to Adam. “Check out the radar, Adam, and see what you think. There’s some really interesting stuff shaping up; let me know where you think it might be.”

Adam cracked the computer open. Next to him, Lucky studied the screen intently with dark eyes while Adam poked the cursor around the radar screen, randomly at first, and then slowly in a more organized fashion, tracing fronts and pressure systems, gradually hovering more consistently over a spot in mid-Kansas. Lucky nodded, never speaking, when he agreed, pointing at times. Across the table, Noel and Rachael shared companionable silence, Rachael with her coffee cradled in her hands and Noel slowly working at his omelet.

“Ready to show your work?” Rachael gestured to Adam to turn the laptop around, after he and Lucky had exchanged a few words and seemed to settle on a location. “Let’s see it.”

“I think,” Adam said slowly, pointing to the screen, “the best shot of anything happening is going to be right around here.”

“Hey!” Rachael grinned broadly. “Nice job, guys!”

“Yeah?” They exchanged a high-five. “Yeah!”

“Maybe a little more east,” Noel added, after he’d swallowed his last bite of omelet. “But really good for day two! What made you settle on that area?”

Adam and Warlock traded off explanation duties as Rachael settled up with the waiter, she and Noel adding information and correcting them as needed. In the truck, they settled in, Rachael in the driver’s seat for the first leg, and set course for Kansas. There wouldn’t be as much lecturing today, Noel assured them, and although Adam was eager to learn, he was truthfully a little grateful for the break. As they drove across the plains, he and Lucky put their headphones in, Adam listening to his downloaded playlist of tried-and-true favorites while he took video of the blue skies and white clouds, saving them to send later, when he could get to wi-fi. Around nine, he did get a text from Aziraphale - Crowley’s phone, of course, but the grammar and punctuation gave the angel away - bidding him to stay safe and out of trouble. He smiled, faintly, and settled back in the seat to watch the landscape drift by.

Lunch was sandwiches from a little deli they passed on their way through a town for gas. Adam savored the turkey and cheese in the back of the truck, Noel informing them that the time would be tight for the afternoon storms and they couldn’t afford a proper stop. He must have drifted off after he ate, because the next time he woke it was because Rachael had nudged his knee. She pointed to the screen of her laptop, excited. Adam leaned in. “Look at this,” she said, excited. Adam nudged Lucky, who had likewise drifted asleep with his headphones in, and ignored the muzzy noises the other boy made as he woke. “See the body of it there? It’s been holding steady for the last hour.”

Adam squinted. “Is that a hook echo?” He pointed to a part of the screen. Rachael, thoughtful, turned the screen to look. “Ah, no! But it might be an elephant trunk-type signature …” She studied it for a few seconds. “We’ll keep an eye on it. You awake, Lucky?”

“Mm yeah.” Still blinking the sleep from his eyes, Lucky unbuckled his belt, the better to lean forward and study the computer.

“Check out the base velocity data.” She changed views, and both boys blinked. “Do you know what you’re looking at?”

“Not … really.” Adam cocked his head. “Something about the wind speed in relation to the radar site?”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” Lucky chimed in. “Is it … wait. Green away and red toward? Or red away? Or is it speed …”

Rachael shook her head. “Not quite, but you guys are already ahead of the game - a lot of chasers your age don’t know anything about base velocity until after their first chase. So Lucky, it’s red away, and green toward.” She pointed to the screen. “Doesn’t really have anything to do with the speed of the winds, just how they’re moving in relation to the weather station. So when we’re looking for rotation, obviously, we want to see red and green really close to each other, right?”

“Makes sense,” Lucky agreed.

“So look here.” She pointed. “Now this stuff up here -” she twitched her hand to gesture vaguely at a scattering of red amongst green, “- I think is just artefact but this, this looks concentrated. See that?”

Adam and Lucky exchanged a look. “Like, it’s the dot, right?” Adam guessed.

“More or less.” Rachael flipped back to the regular radar view. “But you see how it correlates to a high-precipitation area? Means there’s probably a mesocyclone in there.” She clenched and unclenched her fingers, excited. “We might get a tornado today, guys. Definitely a lot of lightning, if the precipitation holds together.”

“How far out are we?” Lucky asked, shifting anxiously in his seat.

Noel answered this time. “Probably an hour or two. We should start seeing some more interesting clouds soon. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Adam and Lucky settled back, each looking out of their own window, while Rachael and Noel talked about something else - photography, something with Rachael’s lightning set-up - in the front seat.

“Have you ever seen a tornado?” Adam asked Lucky, as he craned his neck to see more to the front of the truck.

“Oh, yeah! Not up close, but one time in Virginia there was a little one and I could see it from the back yard. It didn’t last very long, but it was really cool. You?”

Adam thought about the tornado in Tadfield, when he was eleven. “Nah,” he said, stuffing the memory away. “Been in a few bigger storms, but you know … England.”

“Yeah, really severe weather isn’t really a big thing over there, huh? They get tornados though sometimes. I think.”

“Really little ones usually, yeah,” Adam agreed. “They don’t last long, normally, or do much damage.”

“I know another chaser from England,” Noel chimed in as he drove. “He comes over for the season every year. We were talking about it one time, he said that England has the second-most tornadoes per land area in the world.”

“Seriously?” Adam blinked.

“Yeah, but it’s a small area.” Lucky frowned. “And they’re not big?”

“No,” Noel agreed. “Not usually. He lives right in what he calls England’s tornado alley.” He laughed. “A little southwest from London I think he said? I can’t remember the name of the town. Most of the twisters there are around 95MPH wind speed, so they’re not really that powerful, but he told me he chases over there sometimes, if he’s home when they’re around. He showed me a few photos.”

“It was pretty cool - you don’t really think about tornadoes in England,” Rachael chipped in, absently. “Where in England is Tadfield, Adam?”

“Northwest of London,” he answered, using the city as a reference point. “About, oh, two hour drive I think, usually.” He did not add that most of the recent times he traveled to and from London by car, the car was being driven by a demon, and travel time was therefore significantly reduced. “It’s not a big village at all. Biggest thing there is the air base, and even that’s pretty small now. Population-wise, anyway. It’s mostly computers.”

“I think that’s why my dad got reassigned to London,” Lucky said thoughtfully. “Plus, you know, diplomat. London made more sense I guess.”

“Yeah it would do.” Adam looked sidelong at the other boy. Lucky didn’t notice, staring out of the window. “So you were born in London?”

“No, actually. It’s kind of a crazy story - my parents were supposed to fly in to the air base together, but my mom ended up having to go alone for a few days because there was something with the president? I dunno, Dad never actually said what it was. But anyway Mom flew in and then like, went into labor while she was staying at the air base waiting for him, so I ended up being born there.” He shook his head.

“Oh.” Born at the air base. Adam could have laughed with the relief of it. Another thought occurred to him. “Aren’t pregnant women not supposed to fly, though?”

“I dunno, probably.” He shrugged. “I guess when the president says go, you go.” He snorted. “And then, so like, she’s at the air base, but then she said they didn’t have a doctor that knew how to deliver babies? So she had to go to this weird hospital with nuns to have me. Worked out in the end, Dad got there after I was born and we went to the place in London like they’d planned.”

Weird hospital with nuns. The words echoed in Adam’s ears, in between the pounding rush of his own heartbeat. Weird nuns. Satanic nuns, maybe? How do you ask if someone was born in a hospital full of Satanic nuns?

“Wild story,” said Rachael from the front seat, but as far as Adam was concerned, she might have been a thousand miles away. “See the clouds up ahead?”

“Supercell!” he heard Lucky say, distantly, and the other boy - the other boy who was born in a weird hospital with nuns, to a politically-connected family, and then raised by a satanic nanny and had a monk for a gardener, and then went to the middle east when he was eleven - leaned forward to start chattering on with Rachael and Noel. About storms.

Adam loved weather, but at the moment, nothing could be further from his mind.

“When’s your birthday?” he blurted out, stopping the other three mid-conversation. And then he blinked, realizing what he’d done, as Rachael and Lucky looked to him, puzzled. “Sorry, never mind, wasn’t paying attention.” He forced a weak smile.

“August 23. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam lied, immediately turning to look out the window. “Wow, check out that cell!”

“... Yeah. It’s big.” Lucky looked over to Rachael, who had raised her eyebrows questioningly. Even Noel was glancing curiously between the two students in the rearview mirror. Lucky shrugged at Rachael, the universal ‘I have no idea’ gesture. “You alright, Adam? Really?”

“Fine.” We have the same birthday, born in a weird hospital with nuns, we’re probably the same age, they thought I was him, they thought he was it, it was him, it was this guy …

“Nerves are totally normal,” Noel said a little more quietly, not taking his eyes off the road, or the storm cell ahead. “Don’t worry - we’re gonna get plenty of videos if anything happens, but we’ll keep our distance. It’s early still - by the time we’re five weeks in you’re gonna wanna drive the truck yourself.”

It was him, he was the mix-up, it was - And then Adam stopped himself, because some part of him realized that this wasn’t productive, he wouldn’t change or alter anything with this line of thinking, and furthermore, he was in the back of a truck which was headed straight for what looked, on radar, to be a supercell with significant tornadic potential. “No, it’s fine,” he insisted, with a shake of his head. “No, I’m sorry. Sorry, really, I think I’m just still a little messed up from the time change, but I’m fine. Seriously,” he added, when Rachael and Lucky looked to him, radiating concern and curiosity. “Let’s do it - I’m so ready.”

Rachael watched his face for another minute and then made a decision, apparently, because she nodded ever-so-slightly, and turned back to her laptop, maneuvering it so the two in the back seat could have a better view of the screen. “Good, because you see that on radar?”

“Hook artefact,” Lucky breathed, as Adam watched the picture twist on the screen, the red blob at the center of the storm leaving a trail to the southwest that was just so slightly starting to curve north-easterly.

“I think so. Let’s take a look at the base velocity.” As she switched views she grinned, and Adam saw what she was moving to point toward right away. “See it?”

“Mesocyclone?” Adam asked, eyes wide, insisting his brain focus on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time to really process the fact that he was sitting with the other Antichrist - the not-Antichrist, the mix-up kid - and hunting tornadoes with him later.

“I think so.” Rachael looked up, out of the windshield, and the students followed her gaze. Ahead, the clouds towered, gray and ominous and piled on top of one another, all the way up to the stratosphere. “Looks good for a tornado, guys.” A bolt of lightning shot through the clouds, illuminating pockets and curves. “Let’s get it.”

Now with Chapter 8!

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #adam young #warlock dowling #aziraphale #crowley #the one where they go to america #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the love song to storm chasing via fanfic that no one ever asked for

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longroadstonowhere · 6 years ago

Text

this is it

the final chapter of wild child

six and a half years ago, i wrote a little story with an open ending, and i thought well, maybe i’ll come back to this, who knows - i was just starting to get back into writing again, after taking several years off because nothing really inspired me to write

and then there was homestuck, and there were friends to encourage my writing, and after a while i thought, well, why not try continuing that seed of a story

six years ago this saturday, i published the second of what i thought would be six or eight chapters at most - clearly that estimate was completely wrong, haha - but i’m glad i continued this, because i’m proud of what i’ve done here

to everyone who’s read any part of this story, thank you

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 ao3)

Paul collapsed on the couch. John had stormed off through the front door after Jade had made her escape, and he couldn't blame either of them.Probably one of my worst parenting moments to date, he berated himself. Honestly I can't imagine how much worse I could have done.

Roxy settled on the couch next to him and stroked his back. "Well, that was a little bit of a shitstorm."

"Doctor!" Paul raised his head and looked at the stairs. "Your daughter -"

"Left to go find the others. They'll be fine." She sat back, tapping her hands against her thighs. Suddenly, she stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I'm going to get myself something to drink. Would you like some?"

He frowned. Early in the day for that, isn't it? He didn't voice his thought, though, just a simple "No thank you." Rubbing at his temple, he continued, "Really feel like I need to smoke, though."

She hummed in acknowledgement as she clattered around the kitchen. He heard something being poured into a glass, a pause, and then liquid splashing down the drain. He turned his head and saw the doctor filling two glasses with water. Coming back around the couch, she handed him one glass and held the other out. "To curbing vices," she proposed, with a facetious twist to her mouth.

With a matching half-smile, he tapped her glass and took a long sip. Swirling the water a little, he said mournfully, "I don't think John's ever been this angry with me, and I can't blame him. Every choice I made in this matter was the absolute worst choice I could have made. I can't expect him or Jade to ever trust me again."

"Well..." Roxy said thoughtfully. "It might be true that you could've handled things differently and it might have turned out better, but that's impossible to know for sure. Unless you have secret time travel powers?" she teased. Paul snorted out a little laugh despite himself. "No? That's sad, I could've used a new project at work. As for their trust..." Here she sighed. "I'll be honest - I've done my best for Rose, but I've done plenty I'm not proud of, either. Somehow, in spite of all my fuck-ups, she still loves me. I don't know how much she trusts me, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "All children discover their parents are human eventually. We can only hope they still love us when they get through to the other side."

Paul considered that for a moment. "I suppose... I just hoped that day wouldn't come so soon."

Roxy patted his shoulder in consolation. "From what I've seen, you've done a good job with both of them. With a little time, they'll come around."

John stomped away from their house, no goal in sight except just getting away. Dad is such an asshole! he fumed. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us for so long! I was so excited to show Jade what high school is like, and she knows the librarians so well, and what does any of it fucking matter?!? His feet kept pushing along with no interference from his brain, until he found himself near a small ostentatious building near the edge of the clearing that had been made around Rose's house. He didn't really notice the building, though. He was still too focused on mentally ripping his dad a new one. Tired of wandering at random, though, he started going around and around the little structure in a neverending circle.

"John?" Rose's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She stood some distance away, her arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked upwards. "Are you attempting to create a moat of some sort with your feet alone? I'd admire your perseverance and admittedly misguided ambition if that were the case - but I must inform you we don't often find ourselves under siege, and if we were this building would not be worth any particular attention."

"Oh, uh..." John shuffled his feet, a little embarrassed and still kinda angry at his dad. He didn't really want to unload any of that on Rose, though. "What is this thing, anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a building with pillars outside of like, City Hall."

"Well," Rose stepped forward, her hands moving to clasp behind her back, "this edifice began its life as a mausoleum for my former pet Jaspers. When he passed, my mother had this building constructed to give his mortal flesh a worthy final resting place." She smiled a little. "Then, after some self-reflection and a strongly worded letter from one of my teachers, she decided that was a little fucked up and decided to give Jaspers a more traditional burial for a simple pet - a shoebox buried beneath the flowers. Now we use this thing as a gardening shed."

"Huh. That's... really weird actually."

"That is but the tip of the weirdness manifesting itself as my mother," Rose said. "However, while I could continue to overshare emotionally scarring anecdotes from my past, I think I would serve better as an open ear than an open mouth. So," she carefully settled herself on the grass near the bizarre mausoleum-shed, "have a seat and let's, as the youths say, rap about your feelings."

John snorted without really meaning to. "You sound like a forty six year old woman trapped in a teenager's body saying that."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean by that, young man," Rose stated primly. She patted the grass beside her. "I must insist on the sitting, though. I'll strain my neck if you continue to stand while we talk, and it is simply impossible to find a good masseuse in this neck of the woods."

"Well, I wouldn't want to do something ungentlemanly like cause you grievous bodily harm," John joked as he sprawled next to Rose, his legs stretched in front of him. Once he was sitting, though, he had no idea what to say next. Rose had helped bleed some of his anger away by distracting him, but he could still feel it boiling away in his heart. "I dunno if there's much for me to say. My dad's a jerk and Jade's gonna have to leave, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Rose tilted her head slightly, like she was accepting what John said without agreeing with it. "I'm not so sure that last statement is true, but we can circle back to that. Let's talk to your father first. Does he often spring news on you like this?"

"... No. He usually tells me stuff way before it matters. He always says he wants to give me space to get used to something new, but this is like one of the hugest things that could ever happen and he just drops it all at once?" John exhaled in disgust and fell backwards, his arms stretched out above his head. "I'm already fucked up about high school and growing up, why does this have to change too?"

Rose sighed. "Change can truly be a brutal taskmaster, one with no mercy or compassion for those swept along in its wake. But, well..." Rose paused for a long time, long enough that John wondered if she was done talking entirely. He didn't feel the need to fill the silence for once, though - it felt weirdly okay to just let time pass. He watched a few wisps of cloud slowly drift across the sky. Finally Rose started to speak again. "Honestly, I generally find change to be a shitty joke played on the unprepared fools we all are, but sometimes it can be an unexpected boon. For example," she turned and gave John a surprisingly genuine smile, "though I've only known you a short time, I find both you and Jade to be quite pleasurable additions to my life, an outcome I'd certainly never have predicted in advance. So, even if all the events leading up to our meeting have been exceedingly shitty, I would deem the end result quite satisfactory."

John took a few seconds to process all those words before snorting in laughter. "Wow, that's one of the dorkiest ways I've ever heard someone say 'Let's be friends!', ahahahahaha!" He curled in on his stomach, unable to stop laughing.

Rose sniffed in disapproval. "Such boorish antics... truly it is a mystery how you have ever befriended anyone. 'Tis a riddle I should have to devote my life to unraveling, if I were so inclined to such an activity." Her words sounded kinda mean, but she didn't make any moves like she was going to walk off and just leave him there. And she'd come out to find him after he'd stormed off, which said a lot more than her words did.

Well, maybe not a lot more... John thought, considering how many words Rose generally said. But it does mean a lot, at least. John sat back up and smiled at Rose. "Thanks. I guess I kinda needed that."

She nodded graciously. "My pleasure. I've found something of a fascination for delving into the psychological depths of those around me, so it is gratifying to find a material beneficial output for my knowledge."

"Uh, sure, okay." That sounded kind of like 'you're welcome', if he didn't think about it too hard. John stood and dusted bits of grass off his shorts. Looking at the house, though, he wasn't ready to see his dad again yet. Besides, he had something very important to do. "So, where do you think the tallest tree is around here?"

Jade swung her feet in the air, her eyes sweeping over the unfamiliar horizon. Off the island for months and I still run for a tree when something's wrong, she berated herself. Growing up, climbing trees had been both fun and beneficial, since it gave her the best view of her surroundings, letting her scope out unplundered plants or useful scrap that drifted onto the beach.

Trees had also helped her escape from the beasts that had grown bold after her grandpa's death, animals that Bec could take on one at a time but could easily overwhelm him with numbers. Most of the ones who were chasing her for food couldn't climb, though, so the higher she went, the safer she was.

There weren't any beasts like that here, though - nothing that would kill her, tear her to shreds for a decent meal. She was safe here, probably the safest she'd been in her entire life.

And yet she still ran.

I'm better than this, she thought angrily. I've been around people all the time, and I didn't hurt Rob at all when he tried to fight me, and... Ugh!She fell backwards, hanging off the branch upside down. I can't believe how dumb I'm being about all this!

She sat like that for a while, letting the blood rush to her head until it started to hurt. She let it pound away, the pulsing in her head matching her anger at herself. It got so loud that she almost missed Bec's quiet warning bark - no danger but he saw something that needed her attention.

Straining, she looked down at the ground upside down and could see John at the bottom of the tree approaching Bec carefully. He stopped a few feet short and held his hand out to the dog, who padded forward and let John scratch between his ears. His light laughter drifted up the tree towards her. He gave Bec one last big scritch and looked up the tree at Jade. "Hi Jade! Cold you come down a couple branches? I wanna talk but I don't really want to shout, and these trees are harder to climb than the ones back home."

Home. That word hurt more than she thought it would. She'd gotten over the idea of having a home to belong to years ago, right? Home was about people, after all - that's what her stories had said, and all she had was Bec.

John stood quietly at the bottom of the tree, but he was shifting his weight back and forth, like he was trying to decide if he should leave or not. Finally he tightened his fists and nodded to himself before approaching the tree. He jumped and just barely caught one of the lowest branches, pulling himself up until he could straddle it. Balancing against the tree trunk, he slowly stood up on the branch and looked for the next one. He eyed one just out of reach, but before he could make a jump for that one, Jade called down, "If you're gonna be stubborn, fine, I'll climb down a little." He was super bad at climbing, after all, and dealing with a broken leg or something would just make everything even worse.

Jade casually dropped down the tree until she was a few branches above John. She settled into the nexus of several branches and waited for him to say something. He was the one who wanted to talk after all.

"So..." John said as he sat on his branch again, his legs dangling in the air. "That's some shitty news, huh? Kinda wish Dad had told us earlier, but I guess there's no good time for that kind of news. It's weird to think he could mess up like that, though. Adults aren't supposed to fuck things up."

Jade pressed her back into the tree, trying not to think about what parents should or shouldn't be like. Imagining how things could go wouldn't change what was happening.

John sighed loudly. "Wow, I suck at cheering people up. Rose is way better than me at this." He shook his head vigorously and slapped his hands to his cheeks. "Okay! Here's what I really need to say!" He looked straight at Jade, locking eyes with her. "I want you to come home with me and Dad, and I don't care what anyone says about it. You're my sister, and you belong with us, and anybody who thinks differently is gonna regret it, even if they are some hotshot lawyer with... a briefcase and... and a carphone!" He scowled at the ground, one hand on his forehead. "Wow, that last part sounded stupid, just ignore that bit. The important thing is you're my family, no matter what anyone says."

Jade froze, not sure what she should do. No one had ever made her feel important like that, not since Grandpa... No, she admitted, not even Grandpa. Before she realized it, she was dropping down towards John, grabbing him in a strong embrace when she reached his level. "Whoa - !" John flailed and nearly fell off, but Jade made sure they stayed. Once they were stabilized, John hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a long time.

Bec's soft whine, followed by some scratching noises, finally convinced Jade to pull back. She looked down through surprisingly watery eyes to see Bec pawing at the trunk of the tree. "I'm fine," she told him, a smile pulling at the side of her mouth. And she was, for once. She actually was.

Beside her, John wiped a few tears out of his eyes. "Wow... now I know how Cameron Poe must have felt when he finally gave Casey that bunny," he laughed.

Jade laughed too, and shoved at him a little. "No more lame movie references, we are having a serious moment!" John was too distracted trying to stay seated on the branch to argue. Jade let the smile drop from her mouth as she gathered her thoughts. "... Do you really think they'll make me leave you guys?"

John furrowed his brow in deep thought. "Custody can be really weird sometimes. But, you know..." John trailed off, looking around at their surroundings. "If you did have to live somewhere else, this wouldn't be the worst place probably. Rose is pretty cool, in a super nerdy way, and it does look pretty."

"I guess... but... " Jade gathered her courage. "I don't want to. I want to go... home."

John wrapped one arm around her. "Okay. That's what we'll do."

John sat on the couch, doing his best not to fidget nervously and absolutely failing on all fronts. Jade lay on the floor in front of him with Bec, the pair tussling half-heartedly over one of Bec's toys that they'd brought along. Rose sat on one of the other couches, knitting a scarf or something and looking for all the world like she didn't care about anything else besides her project.

The day before, they'd all had a real long talk about strategies and feelings and everything in between. There had been more than a few manly tears shed, as well as some hugs so tight they squeezed the air out of everyone's lungs,, but at some point all they could do was wait for the lawyer to come and discuss everything with them.

The adults were with the lawyer now in Dr. Lalonde's study, discussing the dry details of Uncle Harley's will. Rose had tried to argue that all of them should be present, but Dad thought they would run out of steam if they had to listen to the minutiae, so he'd suggested the kids come in once all the boring stuff was over. On the one hand, John couldn't really blame his dad - he could barely pay attention to his teacher's lectures, and he could understand what they were talking about for the most part.

On the other hand, that left the three of them out here with nothing to do but obsess over whatever was happening in that room.

Unable to keep still any longer, John leaped to his feet and started pacing between the couches and the stairs, carefully stepping over Jade and Bec on his way. Neither girl seemed to pay him any mind, but he knew Jade at least was probably keeping an eye on him. Probably Rose too, really. They were both scarily observant of where people were at all times. They'd probably get even scarier about it if they ended up living together.

Nope nope nope! John shook his head sharply. Jade's gonna come home where she belongs, and that's that, even if I have to kidnap her. He stopped pacing, one hand coming up to cup his chin. I'd have to drive, since I don't think we could get on an airplane without some kind of adult, and also tickets would be super expensive. Driving can't be that hard, right? I should be tall enough to reach the pedals on Dad's car, and I know where he keeps his keys. Food, though...

"Um, John?" Jade's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see her kneeling on the couch, looking at him in concern. "What... are you doing?"

John laughed nervously. "Oh, I was.... planning how to kidnap you?"

Behind Jade, he could see Rose shaking with suppressed laughter. Jade half-smiled, but her heart definitely wasn't in it. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head - she was just as nervous as he was, if not more, and he had no idea how to fix that.

Jade looked down the hallway towards the study. "How much longer do you think they're gonna talk?"

John shrugged helplessly. "I guess Uncle Harley had a lot of complicated stuff in his will? He was technically like a billionaire or something, since the Betty Crocker company belonged to him." He looked down the hall as well. "They could be in there for a really long time probably."

Rose set her knitting aside and confidently stood up. "Well then, I suggest we go see how they're getting on for ourselves." She came around the couches and strode past John towards the hallway. He gave Jade a quick look before following Rose, and he could hear Jade scrambling over the couch to join them.

Outside the study, Rose kneeled in front of the door, one ear pressed close. She motioned for John to be quiet as he approached. He frowned - he wasn't stomping around like an elephant or anything, and he knew better than to give away that they were eavesdropping! As proof of such intelligence, he didn't give Rose a piece of his mind then and there. Instead, he knelt next to her, pressing his own ear against the door to try and hear what was going on. Jade stayed standing and leaned over the both of them, one hand on John's shoulder to keep her balance.

The adults were talking quietly, making it difficult to hear them through the door. Okay, so maybe Rose had a good point about being silent, he thought ruefully. He had to breathe really slowly through his mouth to be quiet enough to have any chance of understanding what they were saying.

"As you can see, Mr. Harley was quite thorough in protecting the trust for Jade." That was the lawyer's voice - they'd introduced themselves to everyone before disappearing into the study with Dad and Doctor Lalonde. "And since he tied everything about access to the trust with whoever has Jade's custody..."

There was a barely audible sigh, which John recognized as coming from his dad. "Yes, I can see why you said you needed to speak with me in person. This is far more complex than I'd even imagined." A pause, with some furniture creaking that suggested his dad was moving around in some way - leaning forward maybe? "Why was he so particular about this? He must have trusted his business partners well enough, since he left them in complete control of the company while he was... gallivanting around the world."

More furniture creaks, and Dr. Lalonde said, "Jake was never very good with people - that's why he liked exploring so much, it meant he could just leave whenever he started worrying about whether he was offending someone or what have you." She laughed a little. "I think he might've left Jade to me just because he could stand being around me for at least a week at a time."

"I'd also like to note," the lawyer said, "he didn't leave his partners completely alone while he traveled. He had access to some extraordinary technology across the years - we take cell phones and their communication abilities for granted now, but fifteen or twenty years ago that instantaneous correspondence was just barely beginning to enter the public eye. Mr. Harley's island was kitted out with a whole host of machines that allowed him to check on his company far more often than one would have expected, and he could give them instructions as well. He was more hands-on than the company would lead you to believe."

The furniture creaked again, and John's dad said, "So he was still running the company from all the way out there?" His voice was getting louder and softer - it sounded like he was pacing back and forth. "He went to all those lengths, just to avoid his business colleagues while still keeping control of his company?"

"That's Jake in a nutshell, really. He had a great deal of pride in his family's company, so he couldn't let it pass from his hands while he was alive, but he couldn't stand living in the same 'humdrum reality' as the rest of us." The doctor's voice changed a little as she said those words, and Jade gripped John's shoulder a little tighter. Guess that's her Uncle Harley impression. It must be pretty good for Jade to react like that, John thought.

"Okay..." Dad still seemed to be pacing back and forth. "So he accepted his business had to pass into other hands on his death, but he wanted to provide a good future for Jade, and so he put all his wealth into this trust fund for her. Would his business partners really try to get at his wealth through Jade? I know it's quite a bit of money but -"

The lawyer interrupted. "They already have tried, and not just his business partners. Several parties have come forward inquiring about Jade's custody since they learned of her current situation. Somehow word's gotten around that Mr. Harley's fortune will not be funneled back into the company, as so many presumed it would, and regrettably some of those who made such presumptions are much less scrupulous than one would hope."

"Yeah, Jake had good reason to make his will so strong, unfortunately," the doctor said. "With what he knew, he made the best choices possible. I just wish he'd known a little more."

"It's unfortunate that he and Mother fell out of contact," John's dad sighed. "This all could have been avoided. And you're certain there's no way to accept custody of Jade without also gaining access to this trust fund?"

"No, that was one thing Mr. Harley didn't think of," the lawyer replied. "Of course, he assumed with everything else in place that Jade would go to Doctor Lalonde here, and he knew her to be in an extremely secure financial situation. As such, and because he personally knew her, Mr. Harley was certain that Jade's money would be safe in the doctor's hands."

"Yes, I wouldn't dream of touching her money myself, outside of providing for whatever lessons she desires in the future," Dad said. "But... if I try to take full custody of Jade, those vultures circling around Uncle Harley's will would try to argue that my motivation is purely financial, won't they?"

The lawyer responded, "Yes, I think it's safe to say they would certainly challenge your claim on those grounds, considering your own situation. After all, you've been holding up admirably, but even with just the quick glance you graciously allowed me, I can see that you've been struggling on that front for some time."

"What?" John said, unable to help himself. He clapped his hands over his mouth as Rose turned to glare at him. Oops.

The conversation in the study paused, and then footsteps came towards them. John and the others stepped away from the door, just in time to avoid stumbling through as John's dad opened it. He looked down at the three of them, smiling a little and shaking his head. "I suppose we should have expected you to tire of waiting for us to finish," he said. "Well, if you're going to listen, you should join us so you can speak as well." He turned back into the room and returned to the table they were all sitting around.

Rose wasted no time entering the room and claiming a chair for herself. John entered a little more cautiously, making sure Jade was right behind him. He felt sort of timid, which was a really weird feeling for him - most of the time, he jumped into a new situation too fast to feel anything more than excitement or anger or whatever. After that first rush, he usually just felt dumb about jumping in, but not timid. That was an alien thing.

He swallowed, trying to gulp down this weird feeling at the same time. "So... is that why we've been eating spaghetti all the time? Because we're poor now?"

"Oh John," his dad sighed. "We're not... yes, having another person in the house has strained our financial situation somewhat, but we're doing fine. Besides, I'll take any hardship to give you the life you deserve." He looked at Jade. "Both of you."

John glanced down at his hands, pride in his dad overwhelming his ability to say anything else. The lawyer politely cleared their throat. "That is extremely admirable, Mr. Egbert. I could only wish all parents were as devoted as you."

Dad blushed a little. "Well, it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he muttered.

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "You know, you almost sound like Jake when you say that." She sobered quickly, turning back to the lawyer. "So, as much as I hate to be all serious, did Jake leave any provisions for what would happen to Jade if I were..." Her eyes flickered to where Rose was sitting. "Let's say incapacitated?"

"You can say 'if you were dead', Mom," Rose stated, deadpan. "I'm well aware of how mortal our flesh is."

The doctor chewed her lip. "That's not the only thing I meant, Rose." Mother and daughter looked at each other, communicating something John couldn't even try to understand. Rose nodded, just a little, and seemed to relax slightly.

"In the event that you were incapable of serving as Jade's guardian," the lawyer diplomatically continued the conversation, "Mr. Harley specified that, to put it in simple terms, Jade was to be provided for in an identical way to your own daughter if at all possible. Any other contingencies specifically require your incapacitation."

"Ah, no luck there, then," she said lightly. "It was a long shot, anyway."

"Um..." Jade raised her hand a little. Where'd she pick that up from? John wondered - she obviously hadn't attended any real classes yet, but maybe she'd marathoned some school show and hadn't told them about it. "Can I say something?"

"Of course! This is your future, after all," the lawyer stated.

"Right, okay." Jade took a deep breath, in and out. "So, Grandpa wanted Doctor Lalonde to be my guardian, and made it really really complicated for anyone else to get the job because of this money he set aside for me, right?"

John's dad nodded. "That is a good summary of the situation, yes."

"So, um... is it possible for both you and the doctor to be my guardians?" Jade asked, looking at each of the adults.

The lawyer leaned back, stroking their chin. "Partial custody.... you know, I think that could actually work. I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues who are more versed in these things, but that should satisfy Mr. Harley's conditions regarding Doctor Lalonde as Jade's guardian, as well as allow her to spend most of her time living with the Egberts." They looked at the doctor. "I'm fairly certain you would have to host Jade for some significant period of time, though, or else you could be challenged on whether you were acting in good faith as her guardian."

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "How about... oh, say, six weeks every summer?" She turned to John and his dad. "I'd be more than happy to house the two of you, as well. It wouldn't be the same without everyone here."

Dad smiled wide, exuberant joy pouring out from his face. "That sounds absolutely perfect, Roxy. I would be more than happy to accept those terms."

"So... that works? I get to stay with John and Mr. Egbert?" Jade asked, like she had to hear someone say it straight out before she could believe it. Honestly, John couldn't blame her - he felt the same way.

The lawyer smiled. "As I see it, you get to stay with your family."

John whooped in joy and tackled Jade to the ground. "You get to stay!" he shouted - he was so happy, he wanted the whole world to know why.

Jade laughed and hugged him back. No matter what came next, John would remember this as one of the best moments in his entire life.

#wild child jade #the ao3 copy won't be updated until sunday (because i want it to be published on 6/15 because Reasons)#but 6/12 is a perfectly acceptable anniversary for posting homestuck fic #even if this story contains absolutely no trolls whatsoever #(except rob and he is not the good kind of troll)#also man i am never publishing a multichapter fic on tumblr again #let me tell you linking each chapter at the top of the post is sooooo much work #but i've read too many stories on other tumblrs that make it really hard to get to the first chapter when you only see the last one #so i couldn't in good conscience /not/ link every published chapter at the top #anyway it's all ao3 all the time from here on out

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nishi-key · 6 years ago

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evergreen (G; for the middle blocker kindaichi yuutarou)

my piece for the middle blocker zine, which i only bothered to post now because i completely forgot that my blog is my portfolio. i received my copy of the book recently. thanks to everyone who made it possible! it’s absolutely gorgeous!!

rest of the fic under the cut. it’s...a bit of a read.

The plant is a young purple shamrock, for now nothing but clumps of tiny triangular leaves sprouting out from the soil in an overly-large pot.

It’s a present to Yuutarou for his thirteenth birthday, and though it’s not exactly on his wish list, he takes and looks at it as though it’s the vast, fragile universe—and it is, in its own special way, he figures. It’s a life smaller than he’ll ever be. He now holds its existence like he holds his food or homework or volleyball, and for a boy without much of a concept of what life is beyond these things, it feels incredible.

His mother names the flower with a bright grin on her face. “I got it for you because it’s one of the easiest plants to keep at home,” she tells him, “but the woman who sold it to me said it’s magical.”

Yuutarou raises an eyebrow.

“No, it’s true! It’s a magical shamrock that’ll watch over you, and everything you do. Take care of it well enough and it might just have something to say about your luck and successes.” She winks.

He knows better than to believe her; he’s not a baby, and he’s not about to get manipulated into poring over a bunch of leaves under the impression that it’ll give him a better life. He does thank her for the thoughtful present, though, listens to her drone on about how to keep it alive and promises to try his best with it as he takes it to his room and places it on his desk. Not a bad spot, he thinks, and makes a mental note to water it for the first time. Maybe later.

The plant is doing fairly well, from the looks of it.

It’s like owning a pet, having a plant under his wing, only not as cute and cuddly. It’s more of a new, relatively simple chore he carries out without the need to get nagged. It’s nothing special, nothing remotely interesting, so when his friends find out on the first day they come over, it’s anything but momentous.

"Wait, your mom said it was magic?" Kunimi asks once he finishes relaying the story, now months old.

"Yeah. I guess she was just trying to find a way to get me to give it lots of attention. Dunno why she bothered; it’s not really that needy." Yuutarou shrugs.

Kageyama stares at it with more wonder in his eyes than Yuutarou had when he’d received it. "You should take care of it, magical or not," he says, gingerly touching the tips of the flourishing dark purple leaves. "It’s pretty big, having to keep something alive like this."

"I know. I will," Yuutarou assures him, and relishes in his small smile and nod—not a sliver of doubt in the back of his mind, though there should be, about how well both he and Kageyama’ll be able to keep the important things alive as the years go by.

The plant is generally satisfied, and gradually gains more color, the pinkish white of flowers beautiful amidst the purple.

He doesn’t become a popular guy by any means. He’s easily the tallest kid in the volleyball club but his attacks don’t make the crowd go wild, and they never defeat Shiratorizawa. He’s pretty good at English and Science but his Math teacher always tells him he should do better. He’s welcoming and conversational but his circle of friends is small, his confidence and complete trust concentrated only on two in the bunch.

He wishes for more, as anyone would, and sometimes he finds himself looking at his plant (which beams along with him at every compliment Mom gives), thinking of the magic, but he instantly feels ridiculous, knows that wishes are for people who don’t know how to take action.

So he tries to stay content instead, and like this—with his friends’ bravery and Mom’s cooking and Dad’s advice—the years fly on by.

The plant was fine yesterday. It was.

In their third year, unexpectedly and out of nowhere, Kageyama gets mad at him.

"What the hell? That sucked," he says, eyebrows already knitted, after Yuutarou spikes one of his tosses and lands it out of bounds. "Did you slack off over break or something?"

"Huh?" Yuutarou blinks at him. It’s three thirty and barely anyone on the court has jumped, let alone found a reason to get frustrated. "No? I—we both just miscalculate sometimes, or do something wrong without meaning to. It happens.”

"Try again,” Kageyama instructs, or maybe orders, but Yuutarou doesn’t want to think of it like that. “And make it score this time.”

"I will, I swear."

The image of the calm, collected Kageyama’s deepest scowl to date unwarrantedly plasters itself onto the forefront of Yuutarou’s memory, stays there all the way home. Maybe it was a bad day, he thinks, tells himself that everyone has the right to lose their cool when things don’t go their way—and right at that moment loses his own when he sees his plant sagging.

It isn’t even that bad; the flower stems are only a little bent and the leaves a little wrinkled, but his breath hitches and he drops everything and sprints downstairs so urgently that Mom has to sprint back up with him to make sure he doesn’t trip on his own feet and die trying to bring a plant back to life.

"It’s not the end of the world, Yuu," she tells him, caressing his back as he attempts to rejuvenate his charge. “These types of plants can look under the weather when the temperature isn’t quite right. It happens."

He drinks her words in the way he wishes the plant drinks the water, feels himself cooling down in its place. A little too cool perhaps, when he stares at the moist leaves and sees a poorly-spiked ball and glaring blue eyes and realizes that it isn’t hot at all, but he shuts his eyes, listens to the soft echoes in his mind:

“It happens.”

The plant is healthy again. It just needed a little water.

A 500-yen coin greets him on the floor of the hallway the next day and he picks it up, turns it in his fingers, stares at it for long enough that a still-sleepy Kunimi somehow finds time to join him.

“Find that on the floor?” he asks. “Keep it. Looking around for the owner and the Lost and Found are too much work.”

“Is that really okay?”

“Think of it as a reward for all the effort you’ve been putting into Math lately.”

Yuutarou, unable to argue with the logic and his desire for a reward, pockets the money.

Right before lunch, they’re handed back their tests, Yuutarou’s sporting a high 95 circled in red right beside his name. He grins from ear to ear when he sees it, offers the paper to those who ask to see, and practically brandishes the thing in Kunimi’s face when they meet up to eat.

Kunimi smiles in earnest, says, "Looks like today’s a good day for you," and it’s the best thing Yuutarou has ever seen.

At practice, he runs faster and jumps higher than ever before. His teammates clap him on the back, tell him he’s doing good today, and he makes conversation about Nationals because it feels right. His grin is almost permanent on his face, until a serve hits Kageyama’s and all hell breaks loose, the livid setter grabbing a trembling wing spiker, several inches taller, by the shirt.

"You have the nerve to talk about Nationals," Kageyama demands, above the litany of apologies, "with a serve like that?"

"Kageyama, calm down!" Yuutarou cries as others yank Kageyama’s hands away. "It was an accident, okay? He said he’s sorry."

"That’s not the point!"

"We’re going to get better," Yuutarou continues. "That’s why we’re here at practice. To improve. Better to make all the mistakes here and correct them so we don’t repeat them when it matters."

It comes out of nowhere, but it works. Kageyama pauses, his balled fists relax, and he averts his gaze, clicks his tongue and mutters an apology before turning away. Yuutarou supposes it’s good enough, but his stomach twists in not-so-subtle knots when their captain sets a hand on his shoulder and tells him he did well, and the rest of practice feels like floating on air.

When he gets home that evening, his shamrock is thriving. He isn’t sure why that scares him, ever so slightly.

The plant is fluctuating from bright and beautiful to complete garbage.

"You don’t think it’s actually magical, do you?"

They eye the plant on the desk, still and harmless, like it’s a monster on top of Yuutarou’s desk.

"What makes you think it could be?" Kunimi asks.

"Whenever something good happens to me, I get home home and see it perfectly fine. But whenever something bad happens, it looks dry and sad,” Yuutarou explains. “I can’t figure out if it reacts to what happens to me or if my day is determined by how it’s feeling."

"That’s dumb," Kageyama says immediately, like Yuutarou hadn’t just finished honestly speaking his mind. "There’s no way a plant can be magic. You probably just pay more attention to it on your good days and end up neglecting it on your bad ones so it reacts to how you treat it. Simple enough."

Yuutarou frowns. "These types of plants don’t need to be watered all the time. They’re really easy to keep alive."

"Then why’s yours dying every other day?"

"It’s not dying!"

"Why are you yelling?"

"Because—" Yuutarou yells until he realizes he is, and he pinches his mouth shut, because arguing is too much work. He exchanges glances with Kunimi instead, thinks maybe they won’t be inviting Kageyama over next time.

He sees the both of them out half an hour later, silently eats his dinner and washes up, and when he once again steps inside his bedroom, his shamrock’s flowers and leaves are falling.

The internet is packed with good reads on effective plant care, he finds, and he stays up after doing his homework to go through them. At practice, he messes up the timing for the block and brings the other team to match point. He hears his teammates sigh.

I’m a terrible blocker, he thinks, and he doesn’t look them in the eye for the rest of the day.

Online sources are limited and inconsistent, he decides, so sometimes he spends his breaks in the library, reading up on plants and how they work, the effects of temperature on their consistency and growth, the effects of anything at all to their resilience. In the hall, two sprinting boys knock him aside in their haste, and he apologizes to their retreating backs.

I’m such a pushover, he thinks, and in class he shrinks in his seat.

Science tells him nothing, so he scours for reliable material on the unexplainable, because that’s what his plant is. It follows no rules, it’s unpredictable, and it’s ruining his life. If he can’t control the magic, he cries in his mind, he can’t control his life.

"Yuu, it’s getting really late. You can do that tomorrow. Go to bed," says the person who brought this magic to him, standing by his doorway minutes before midnight. "If you don’t sleep early, you’re not gonna reach six feet."

Yuutarou has nothing to say to that; he buries his face in his book.

"Yuu. Can you hear me?"

He frowns.

Mom does too. "Okay, well, if you feel like talking tomorrow, I’ll be here. Get some rest, okay?"

She closes the door as quietly as she can, and the click of the lock shatters Yuutarou’s cold facade as well as his heart. I’m an awful son, he thinks, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

At practice, Kageyama’s mood only plunges, and Yuutarou doesn’t know what to do with him either. He sends tosses that are too fast and complains when no one can get them. He talks about getting faster, where’s the improvement, we have to win, we have to win—until the we’s become I’s, what used to be fun and challenging now a mere test of strength against what’s apparently a beast, a monster.

Yuutarou’s patience plunges too. No matter what, he thinks, I’ll never be worse than this guy. And he feels better about himself.

The plant has recovered.

Everything on the court gets worse the louder Kageyama yells, and when tournaments roll around, he’s the only thing Yuutarou’s sure he can block out. He hates that he has to; he still tries to treat Kageyama the same as before, but the minute he hears that sharp voice demanding he move faster jump higher match my pace, he cracks just a little bit more, and he’s well past breaking point.

He has been for a long time; he’s known that since he and Kunimi first spoke privately with their coach.

Their final match of the year, as a team, is no different. He tries and he tries but there’s nothing he can do about the monstrous toss. His jumps are futile, his words don’t go through. The time-outs don’t clear any of their heads. Kageyama never listens, never slows, and Yuutarou’s tired of moving too slow for him.

So he doesn’t move at all.

He stops in his tracks, keeps his eyes on Kageyama’s focused ones and watches them change—wide in anticipation, wider in surprise, even wider in confusion—as the alarmingly-fast ball rises and falls for the last time. Kageyama is benched, and the glare he used to direct at Yuutarou and the rest disappears under the shadow of his fringe, and that’s the last that Yuutarou needs to know about that.

They lose, of course. But the defeated look on Kageyama’s face convinces Yuutarou he’s won something. He feels stronger as he heads home, like he’s conquered a heavy weight on his shoulders, like he’s done something right for the first time in his life. The night sky is dark but it’s as though the clouds are making way for a bright sun overhead, one that tells of a future where nothing will ever make him feel so small again.

He heads up to his room in high spirits, but in the moment he opens his door he also reels back, drops all of his things, and tries to blink himself out of what he hopes is a cruel dream.

The plant is dead.

“It had to be a pest or something,” Mom says. “I can’t imagine how else this could have happened.”

The once-beautiful leaves of his shamrock are curled in on themselves, shrunken and weak, holes drilled into them like they’d been set ablaze. It makes Yuutarou feel sick but he can’t tear his eyes away, only blinks the wetness out of them as his chest grows heavy and his stomach sinks.

"We’ll do a little more research on this, okay? I remember reading that these kinds of plants can resurrect, or something like that. Maybe it still has a chance."

"Please throw it out."

Mom seems to stop breathing. "What?"

Yuutarou sucks in all the air he can find. "Let’s just throw it out."

"Ah—but—" She pauses, then gently rubs his shoulders. They’re higher than hers already. "Okay. Okay. Let’s just get a new one, yeah?"

"No."

"No? You don’t want to replace it?"

"I don’t."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He feels her gaze on him, piercing and studious, but she doesn’t say anything he doesn’t want to hear. She sighs, takes the pot, and moves to head out the door. "I’ll bring this to the yard for you, all right? Dinner’ll be ready soon. Oh! And how was your game?"

The question sets his skin on fire, punctures his heart like it’s a dying purple leaf. "We lost," he mumbles, turning away. "We lost."

The plant has been buried underground for quite some time.

“Okay, Kindaichi, your turn!”

He steps to the front of the line and grabs a ball from the cart, tries to calm himself down even in the face of Oikawa’s toothy grin. It isn’t Yuutarou’s first time hitting his sets but the nerves never leave, and every run-up for a spike is like the moment of truth, make or break, match point.

He knows it shouldn’t be, and it makes a difference, but when he runs and swings and ultimately misses, he still clams up, turns to Oikawa with a barrage of excuses and apologies ready to leave his mouth, and the only thing that stops him is Oikawa’s still-smiling face.

"Your timing’s a little slow, huh?" he says. "Think you can go a little faster than that?"

The word ‘slow’ makes him want to shrink. But he looks at Oikawa’s patient gaze and reminds himself this isn’t middle school anymore. This isn’t Kageyama anymore, and Yuutarou is six feet tall, has a voice he’s used only a few times before, a voice that might as well wilt and die with his shamrock if he doesn’t ever use it again.

"Maybe," he says, but before Oikawa can beam too much, nervously adds, "but right now, can I not?”

Oikawa’s smile vanishes for the first time, and Yuutarou has to conceal his cringe for the better part of a minute before it comes back, wider than ever. "Well. I appreciate your being straightforward," he says, clapping a hand on Yuutarou’s shoulder, and Yuutarou has to work on controlling his gape instead. "I’ll accept that answer for now. Practice with me so I can get your timing right, okay?"

The yes that escapes from Yuutarou’s smiling lips is as loud as it is elated.

The plant is doing wonders for the garden soil it’s buried in.

Somehow he finds himself standing in front of Kageyama again one day, his own team fresh from a loss in their practice match. It’s odd to see him clad in black, but that’s the least of Yuutarou’s problems, now that the King of the Court stands before him wearing a different kind of crown.

He hadn’t come up with that nickname but he’d embraced it all the same, and when he’d heard that Kageyama’s school was coming over, he’d been intrigued rather than enraged. It would make for good entertainment, he figured, getting to watch Kageyama yelling at people he isn’t required to care about, and a good way to know for sure that where he is and where Kageyama is truly are meant to be different.

But that’s not what he sees, and ultimately, he ends up here, yelling at Kageyama and not the other way around, because Kageyama is different—from his faces on the court all the way up to the lightning-quick toss he now manages to score with. It has Yuutarou’s fists trembling as he screams, "Don’t apologize!" in front of a bashful King’s face, and he honestly can’t believe he has to.

What other things come out of his mouth, he doesn’t remember. They might be a little cruel, a little untrue, a little overconfident of him, but it helps him hold his head up high, and look Kageyama straight in the eye as he nods in agreement with everything Yuutarou had gotten off his chest, and says:

“Next time we fight, we’re going to win again.”

The we is a shot right through the heart. The way Kageyama leaves with his new partner is a dagger to his back. But as he looks to the ceiling, despite the feeling of defeat, he can neither help his smile nor understand why. He retreats to his own team with Kunimi, thinks about how Kageyama has changed, and how he isn’t the only one who has.

The plant is a dwarf lemon cypress, a fair height and vibrant green, and it’s been growing in a pot inside one of the second story bedrooms for the better part of a year now.

He finds it after another devastating loss to Shiratorizawa, and the first thing he thinks is it’s so beautiful. His eyes are still a little puffy from the tears but he stares at the bright leaves all shaped like miniature trees, gently runs his fingers through them, feels his heart swell.

“Oh, you found it.”

Mom stands by the doorway, leaning against the frame and smiling at him. Yuutarou shouldn’t be surprised—it’s her room, after all—but his mouth can’t make words and his eyes are wide, only able to stare at her.

“Purple was pretty, but also pretty depressing, so I figured you could use something green this time. The color of life, environment, renewal, and growth,” she says, like that stare had demanded an explanation. “And I thought it might be nice to get something taller, so you can get taller and tower over everyone on the court.”

The smile on her lips and in her eyes is so warm, and Yuutarou sniffles, breathes out a laugh. The first thing he thinks to say is incomprehensible, something he never would have asked three years ago. “So it’s magic too?”

“Hmm. The saleslady didn’t say it was magical this time.” Mom stands beside him and rests a hand between his shoulder blades. “But I’d say that the plants never had the magic from the start. It’s the amount of love and care you give it to keep it alive despite everything that happens in your life, good or bad, that makes it magic. Agree or agree?”

This time, Yuutarou’s laughter finds its voice. “Agree.”

“Do you want to move it to your room and take over now?”

“I’m fine with keeping it here for a while.”

“Okay. But only until you turn twenty; that’s when I’m legally allowed to stop caring about you so much.”

“Aww, make it thirty.”

“Too much! Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-nine! I’ll help you with it anyway.”

Mom’s shoulders shake with her giggling. “Fine,” she says, and Yuutarou leans on the shoulder he used to cry on as a child.

The plant has thrived even more since its discovery, basking in the heat, surviving in the cold.

“Captain Kindaichi sure handled that arrogant first year pretty well earlier, huh?”

Yuutarou snaps to attention and raises an eyebrow at the grinning teammates that surround him. “What?”

“The first year who yelled because our play wasn’t ‘the best we could’ve done’. You pulled him aside during the time-out and talked to him, right? Nice, nice.”

“It wasn’t much,” Yuutarou says, hunching over and pulling ahead of rest of the group leisurely strolling on the lamp-lit sidewalk. “And it’s not entirely new either. Kyoutani-san was like that to the third years back then, and Yahaba-san learned to deal with him, so I should be able to do something like this.”

“Yeah, we know, we’re just complimenting you, dumbass. Where’s our thanks for thinking you’re the best captain we could’ve hoped to have this year?”

“Well, thanks,” Yuutarou deadpans, but he doesn’t walk any faster. “I never asked for compliments, though. A captain’s only as good as his team, anyway; I lead, but we all do our best together. And when I inevitably screw up, you’re all there to pick up the pieces.”

“Or,” Kunimi interjects, sending a slap to his arm, “you could stop being all mature for a second and learn to take a compliment.”

The rabble erupts in a chorus of laughter and haphazardly-thrown punches, and he makes a face at them, glues their grins to his memory, and announces that they’re making a stop at a nearby store for some snacks, captain’s treat. Only for a while though, he emphasizes once the cheering dies down, so he can still get home in time to help Mom with dinner.

The plant has seen bad days and better days, but it grows. And it’ll keep on growing; Yuutarou will make sure of it.

#haikyuu!!#kindaichi yuutarou #middle blocker zine #m'writing #weebing #a really late post #boy this was a hard fight #mostly because i had to perform blood sacrifice to keep it under 5k sdfjksjf #this was pre-sportsfest before i learned how to keep my words at the minimum

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letswritefanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Pokémon Alphabet Challenge: O is for Overcome

March 7

Well, it looks like my stay with Solidad before the Kanto contest season begins is going to be a little longer than I’d planned. We found my Masquerain with an egg today along with Solidad’s Butterfree. Fortunately, I don’t think the incubation period for eggs of Bug Types is too long, so hopefully we’ll only have to wait a few weeks for the Surskit to hatch out. Then I’ll probably give it to Solidad.

Admittedly, I don’t know much about breeding, so I figured it would be good to write down some of what’s going on so that I have a log. Just in case. So, this is day one, I suppose, of the incubation period.

March 8, day 2

Nothing new. Solidad thinks that we should contact Brock for some breeding advice. She asked me to call him. … I am not friends with May’s friends. Just like I’m not friends with her friends.

Yeah, Harley, you heard me.

Although we did call May and Harley to update them. Well, I called May, Solidad called Harley. I’m still thanking whatever deity made Harley jealous enough of May to decide to go to Sinnoh while the rest of us are gonna travel the Kanto circuits next month.

But the egg seems fine and Masquerain and Butterfree seem happy, so I told her no anyway.

March 9, day 3

Went into the Viridian Forest for some training. Staying in one place is giving me cabin fever. It hasn’t even been two weeks, but it’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I lived at home.

Maybe I’ll go to the mountains tomorrow.

No egg updates.

March 10, day 4

Masquerain and Butterfree seem to move the egg around in the yard wherever the sun is to keep it warm. I guess Bug/Flying Types aren’t great at brooding.

March 11, day 5

I don’t know how Solidad can be so content both on the road and staying at home. She says I’ll get over it when I’m older and, I dunno, maybe I will, but this is just so boring.

If you couldn’t guess: no egg updates.

March 12, day 6

I stopped in the Pokémon Center and called May, just to see someone who wasn’t in Pewter, and she reminded me that she’s been living at home with her parents for a few weeks. I know she loves then and all, but that was enough to put things in perspective.

Being trapped in Solidad’s house isn’t so bad.

Also, I realized today that that egg is a pretty damn big egg. I mean, Surskit are small. A fully grown Surskit could fit in this egg if it curled its legs under. I guess it just has a lot of nutrients in it?

No updates.

March 13, day 7

One week. No updates.

March 14, day 8

We have an update.

Probably should have mentioned this earlier: the egg, Masquerain, and Butterfree are all just staying in Solidad’s backyard. It’s fenced in and has a few plants, but not many because Pewter City is basically just one big gravel pit that people built houses son. And because who can maintain a garden when you hardly live at home?

Anyway, so we went out back today because Masquerain and Butterfree were having a fit and we noticed the egg wiggling a bit. Just for a moment, and then it stopped. But it was something.

March 15, day 9

More movement. Still just the slightest wiggles, but they’re more prolonged now.

Solidad still thinks that we should contact someone who knows more about this than we do, but apparently Kanto’s main daycare center is halfway across the region on some nothing route. Not even in a city. But I don’t think we need the help. It’s just one egg. Masquerain and Butterfree are doing most of the care anyway. We just need to care for them, and we know how to do that. Pokémon give birth in the wild all the time. Geez.

March 16, day 10

Continued movement. No further updates.

March 17, day 11

Update: Okay, we must be close to the finish line at this point, because there were definitely sounds today. And a lot of movement. Solidad’s really excited. I’m kind of excited too. But not as excited as Harley, who threatened to come and see ‘the big reveal’. Close call.

March 18, day 12

I’m in the back yard as we speak. Masquerain and Butterfree seem super excited. They’re flapping around like nobody’s business. And then there’s the egg, which seems like it’s dancing. There are little noises coming from it and it’s practically hopping off the ground.

Oh! There are cracks! Putting this down now. Will update later.

“…I was not expecting this.”

Drew and Solidad looked around the backyard of Solidad’s Pewter City home, noting how it was now crawling with nearly a dozen tiny Surskit. The Surskit were exploring every conceivable nook and cranny of the yard, traipsing over boxwood bushes, lawn ornaments, and even each other, all in the name of exploring this brand new world. Worst of all: they were each only a few inches tall.

“Yes,” Solidad sighed. “I thought that only one Pokémon could hatch from a single egg. Had I known this could happen, I definitely would have called someone for help.”

Drew rolled his eyes as he watched a helpless baby Surskit fall into the bush it had been trying to climb over. “I think we’re still going to need that help, Solidad.”

Masquerain immediately flew over to the fallen Surskit and pulled it from the brambles, taking care to smooth its dear, little yellow head with a soft wing. However, she immediately had to move on to another wayfaring baby while Butterfree stopped one from going under a hole in the fence. Drew quickly picked up one of the many stones in the yard and placed it in front of the hole, taking extreme care that he didn’t step on one of the little critters.

Solidad, meanwhile reached for her PokéNav. It only took a moment to scroll through her contacts before she landed on the one she wanted and let the phone dial, putting it up to her ear when it began to ring. In the meantime, Drew carefully grabbed the round body of a Surskit that was trying to crawl its way up Solidad’s legs.

“Hello, Pewter City Gym; how can I help you?”

“Brock, I’m glad it’s you,” Solidad began in her slow, calm voice. “Drew and I have a bit of a situation…”

“A bit of a situation?” Brock echoed, astounded.

Fortunately, Solidad’s house was only a few minutes away by bike from the Pewter City Gym and, since Brock was no longer standing Gym Leader, he hadn’t needed to take care of much before hurrying over to Solidad’s back yard. Since the call had been placed, Drew had sent out his Butterfree as well, making the yard look like a Bug Pokémon habitat that even Professor Oak would be proud of. The three flying bugs were doing a good job of taking care of the babies, which was good, because Drew and Solidad were afraid of what they might unwittingly step on if they ventured to move.

“It looks worse than it is,” Solidad appeased. “We counted and there are only ten babies, and they can’t climb vertically or burrow like some Bugs, so they’re all definitely still here.”

“But…what do you expect me to do with them?”

At this point, Drew decided to chance it and take a few steps back, sitting on one of Solidad’s cushioned lawn chairs. A Surskit was in the adjacent on; it looked as though they were sharing a nice afternoon tea, save for the wary look Drew was giving it.

“Well, you were following along the path of a breeder at one point in time, Brock,” Solidad stated simply. “I was hoping you could use that insight to advise Drew and me on how to handle this.

Brock took stock of the surroundings. Solidad had a relatively small backyard—her property sat on less than an eighth of an acre—and it shrunk enormously when you took into account the dozen Pokémon roaming about it. None of Solidad’s sparse vegatation seemed particularly edible for them, though he had no doubt that they’d try for it anyway. Furthermore, there was no overhead protection from predators or the elements, and it would likely take the three of them days to fashion a tent. Not to mention the fact that there was no water…

Water…

Brock smirked.

“You know what, Solidad? I think that ten Surskit are a little out of my range of expertise. But you know who would be perfect?”

Misty heard a phone ringing and frowned when she realized that it was her personal phone and not the Gym’s public line. She was used to that one all but ringing off the hook—so much so that they’d had to hire a receptionist a few years back—but her Pokégear was usually as silent as the playable character in an RPG. Yet here it was ringing and, as usual, she had no idea where she’d last had it, so she had to scramble to find it, only barely managing to press the talk button before the last ring.

“Hello?” she answered breathlessly.

“Misty? What, did I drag you out of the pool?”

“Brock, is that you? Why are you calling me?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Well, Drew and Solidad seem to have fallen into a little issue regarding some Water Pokémon, and you’re the foremost expert on Water Pokémon that I know.”

Misty narrowed her eyes. She could feel Brock trying to butter her up, but she was going to let it go, because she liked what she was hearing. “Uh-huh. And? What is this ‘issue’?”

“Oh, just the sudden emergence of ten baby Water Pokémon that need specialized care. They’re living at Solidad’s right now, but she doesn’t even have so much as a birdbath. Surely you can’t expect for them to all live in a bathtub!”

“I’ll take them!”

Misty could feel her eyes growing large and shiny, the prospect of ten helpless, innocent little Water Pokémon in need tugging at her heartstrings. She didn’t know why Brock felt like he had to pull any tricks over her to get her to say yes—honestly, he should save any tricks he had for girls he wanted to date. Arceus knew he needed the help.

“That’s so great, Misty!” Brock said, excitement coloring his tone. “Solidad’s gonna drive us over, so we should be there shortly.”

Misty grinned. “I can’t wait!”

Drew was not pleased with the situation.

He was happy that the babies were being placed with a Water expert. He was even considering leaving his Masquerain with her for a little while if Misty proved to be all that Brock was lauding her to be. Of course, Masquerain wasn’t a Water Type, but Drew could only imagine that she’d want to stay with her babies for a little longer. He was happy that he and Solidad wouldn’t have to rip their hair out over taking care of ten babies.

What he wasn’t pleased with was the fact that in Solidad’s large van, Brock got to sit up in front while Drew was stuck with all the very mobile Surskit in the back. Well, most were mobile. One was sleeping on his lap. The rest were walking all around the seats and all over Drew. And he meant all over. Plus, it was his responsibility to make sure that none crawled up the center console and began bothering Solidad while she was driving.

To top it all off, Brock looked positively smug.

Drew didn’t really think about May’s friends a lot. Ash had some strange, raw talent, Drew had to admit, but at times he seemed to be more trouble than he was worth. Brock seemed helpful to a degree, but Drew wasn’t really sure what he was doing in the group aside from nannying. Lucky for May, because she sure seemed to need it.

This was the first time that Drew was getting more than a taste of Brock’s personality. And for some reason, ever since just before calling Misty, Brock had been wearing a shit-eating grin. Drew didn’t recall that being a regular occurrence, so it was enough for him to keep an eye on the older boy.

Until a Surskit tried to walk right over his eye.

“Ow!” Drew exclaimed, using every bit of his self-restraint to keep from swatting the poor creature. Instead, he grabbed it and placed it on top of one of its siblings—there was no actual floor space left—as he blinked rapidly.

“Drew, are you okay?” Solidad asked in her motherly way.

“Yeah, fine,” Drew grumbled.

After this whole affair was handled, he wasn’t letting Masquerain anywhere near that Butterfree ever again.

It was only about an hour later that the crew showed up at the Cerulean Gym’s front door. And Drew couldn’t help but notice how tacky the Gym looked with that giant Dewgong on it. It looked like a really bad contest hall.

Of course, it was hard to think about that whilst holding onto three tiny Bug babies. Masquerain and the two Butterfree were released again, each holding onto a baby. The rest of them were divided among the three humans, and Drew was the one lucky enough to have to juggle three.

Brock had to use his elbow to ring the Gym doorbell, but he managed, and was relieved when Daisy was the one to answer the door. He drooled for only a second before Daisy dashed all his hopes and dreams by saying, “Oh, Brock. I thought you were Tracey. We’re going to dinner.”

“Tracey?” Brock’s posture immediately fell to the downward pull of depression as he sulked. How had Tracey nabbed Daisy?

“Hmm, you’re new,” Daisy observed, pointing a sharply filed nail at Drew and Solidad. She paused specifically on Drew. “Wow, it’s too bad you’re not five years older. Not for me, of course, but for Misty. Then again, she’d look really bad next to you.”

Drew didn’t even begin to know what to say as Daisy threw him a wink.

Solidad, sweat-dropping all the while, stepped up. “Brock called Misty about taking in these baby Water Pokémon. Did she tell you anything about that?”

“Oh, right…” Daisy said breezily, waving a hand near her face as though she was hoping to catch the wisps of the memory of the conversation between her fingers. “She did say something about that. Just go into the main aquarium for now and I’ll go get her.”

Solidad and Drew made their way in, but Brock was apparently not yet recovered from the shutdown he’d gotten from Daisy. And before he’d even tried to make a move!

Drew rolled his eyes. “Masquerain, you have my full permission to use Gust on him if he doesn’t move in three seconds.”

That was enough to get Brock’s rear in gear, and he and all the rest of the Pokémon were in the Gym in less than three seconds.

Peaceful relief. The Surskit were flitting about on the top of the pool, looking thrilled to explore their natural habitat—well, closer to it—instead of a backyard. Or the back of a van. Drew could tell that Masqeurain looked more relaxed too, flying easily overhead with Solidad’s Butterfree. Drew’s Butterfree wasn’t even needed for extra assistance anymore.

In the echoing, tile-filled room, Drew heard footsteps approaching. He could only assume that it was Misty or one of her sisters.

“Hey, guys! Sorry about Dai—Aah!”

So much for peaceful relief.

Drew had to put his hands up to his ears—man, this Misty had a high-pitched scream! Solidad too looked appropriately alarmed. But Brock was only smirking, causing Drew to think that they’d been taken for a ride. And not just the one from Pewter to Cerulean, although that had been a less than pleasant journey.

“Brock, what are those Bugs doing here‽”

Brock walked up to Misty, who was shielding her face in her own shoulder so that she didn’t have to look at the pool. “Misty, these are the Water infants I was telling you about. Aren’t they cute?”

Misty stole a second glance at the Surskit and a shriek erupted from deep in her throat, even with her mouth closed. “Those are Bugs! Look at their legs! You can’t tell me those aren’t Bugs!”

Brock, who was clearly reveling in this, put a hand to his chin and began scratching at the dark stubble there. “Oh, I suppose they do have a dual typing. But I was just thinking about how desperately these poor babies needed water. You know how Water Pokémon can get if they’re not hydrated enough, right, Misty?”

He was leading her. She knew that he was. He was pushing her into a corner so that she couldn’t say: “Take them away!” which was threatening to bleed off her lips at any second.

Instead: “You’re right. They can stay. Excuse me.”

The words came out ever so calmly, and Misty looked entirely nonplussed as she turned around and walked slowly, but deliberately out of the room. Brock turned around to a confused Solidad and an irritated Drew, saying, “Well, that was a lot less fun than I’d thou—”

From deep inside the Gym, another high pitched shriek—definitely still Misty—rang out and Brock’s expression cracked into a grin again.

“Then again…”

Misty at least had the courtesy to let the crew from Pewter to stay the night. Well, she didn’t have much of a choice, since she didn’t want to be stuck taking care of the babies—who would have to be fed multiple times through the night—and since she knew that her sisters wouldn’t sacrifice their beauty sleep for that. Fortunately, the Cerulean Gym came equipped with a number of guest rooms, since her sisters were so very popular.

Unfortunately for Brock, this was where her hospitality ended.

Brock walked down the hallway containing the guest bedrooms looking beaten and battered…primarily because he was. After Brock had—supposedly—paid for his misconduct by cooking dinner for everyone, Misty had pulled him aside and given him what for.

So, slowly—with intermittent grunts of pain—Brock dragged himself in the direction of his temporary bed, hoping that he would wake up in less pain the next day. As he reached a twitching hand for the doorknob, though, the door across from his opened, letting out a burst of steam. Drew walked out, his hair darkened to a mossy green by the water still clinging to it. A blue towel was around his neck and he was wearing some flannel pajama pants. He looked Brock up and down completely disinterestedly and, with a huff full of teen angst, proceeded towards his own bedroom.

Mildly insulted by the response, Brock couldn’t help but to yell out, “I have a greater plan for this, I hope you know.”

Drew stopped, but didn’t turn around, showing that his interest had only been slightly piqued.

“I’m hoping this will be the thing that finally gets Misty over her fear of bugs. And we get a pool for the Surskit out of it.”

Only turning enough to give a pointed look to the red handprint still imprinted on Brock’s cheek, Drew asked, “And how’s that working out for you?”

Apparently he didn’t care enough to hear the answer to his own question, because he opened his door and closed it. Brock even heard the click of the lock latching as though to add extra punctuation to his words.

Immensely more tired, Brock reached a hand up to his warm cheek and tried to rub the pain out before following Drew’s example and going into his own room. Normally, he’d linger in the hallway a little longer to see if he could catch Solidad in a nightgown, but he suspected that he’d need all of the strength he had to deal with Misty the next morning.

March 19, day 2

I’ve decided to keep this going, now keeping track of the Surskit’s growth. Or at least that’s what the days are supposed to mean. It turns out that May’s dear friend Brock has made us all the subject of his little experiment to get May’s friend Misty over her fear of Bugs. So this is also day 2 of that experiment.

I would say “Kill me now,” but I have ten four inch babies to care for.

With the solid distance of the Waterflower’s oak dining table between himself and Misty, Brock broached the topic. Misty’s response went about like this:

“Okay, Brock, how about this? I’ll get over my fear of bugs when you can talk to a pretty girl without turning into that ooey-gooey sap that’s those Bugs have been getting all over my pool!”

Brock, indignant at the insinuation, narrowed his eyes at Misty and opened his mouth to disagree. However, she seemed eager to prove her point.

“Oh, Daisy! Violet! Lily!”

The voice came out in a melodious sing-song tone that was frightening to hear from Misty. It seemed like the calm before the storm.

The girls—in their various but extensive states of getting ready for the day—bustled into the dining room, looking at Misty questioningly. Their little sister didn’t usually summon them, so they were surprised by the call.

“Like, what is it, Misty?” Daisy asked as she continued threading her hair into a fishtail braid.

Misty, apparently not feeling it necessary to explain herself, just looked to Brock, eyes expectant and daring.

Brock, for his part, was staring at Lily, whose state of mid-readiness happened to include the fact that she was only wearing a sports bra on top. Since she was used to being seen in nothing but a bikini on a near-daily basis, this was nothing unusual for her, but Brock’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head—without the usual aid of Misty’s fist.

Perhaps most girls would be bothered by the leering. Misty knew that if anyone stared at her chest like that, they’d be slapped so silly that they wouldn’t be seeing anything for days. But Lily calmly finished applying her gloss with the aid of a handheld compact before closing it and giving her lips a little pop of suction. Then she looked at Brock and said simply, “Sorry, you’re way too young for me.”

Brock instantly fell back, his whole world turning gray at the instantaneous rejection while Misty just looked confused. “You guys are the same age.”

Lily winked before turning on her heel. “I know.”

Misty cringed. Who exactly did her sister sleep with?

Nope. She didn’t want to know.

Daisy followed as Lily sauntered out of the room, leaving Violet to turn to Misty and say, “Sorry, we’ve gotta motor. Big interview today in Celadon. Catch you tomorrow. Or the next day.”

Brock seemed to perk up again at the sound of Violet’s voice and physically reached out to her as she walked away.

“One sister left,” he murmured to himself as Misty repeatedly smacked herself in the face.

It was with smoke coming out of her ears that Misty snatched her Pokégear—actually having remembered where she had last placed it this time—and dialed a familiar number.

“Heya, Misty! What’s u—”

“Ash, Brock has lost his marbles.”

“What?”

Misty collapsed into her office chair, causing it to swivel around a few times before she stopped it by setting her feet on her desk. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

It didn’t work.

“He’s suddenly got it in his head that I need to quote: ‘overcome my fear of bugs.’”

“Well, I think that’s grea—” A growl grumbled from deep inside Misty’s chest. “Uh, not great?”

“Exactly. Not great. In fact…” Misty’s fingers twitched with pent-up energy. “I think I need to remind him how much of a bad idea it is.”

Misty didn’t even remember to hang up the phone as she left it on the table and searched for Brock, intertwining her fingers and stretching them out.

“Uh, good luck, Brocko…”

March 20, day 3

I told May where we’re staying now for when she comes to Kanto. It’s still supposed to be a couple weeks, but I’m hoping she might come early. Also, it’s looking like we might not be leaving anytime soon. I thought being cooped up in Solidad’s house was bad…

This is so much worse. There are 7 people living here.

As for the Surskit: their bodies are already becoming more opaque and they’re getting a better sense of how to use their thin little legs. The water is doing them well.

March 21, day 4

Misty is terrorizing Brock. It’s definitely frightening—I’m sure never going to cross her. I just feel lucky that she hasn’t incriminated Solidad and I along with him—buuuut it’s also super funny. Mostly just funny. The guy had it coming! What can I say?

We’ve decided to start measuring the Surskit and keeping a log. Luckily, Brock and Solidad are doing that. They seem to have grown some in the last couple days, but they’re still so tiny. None are taller than 5 inches.

A very frightened Brock had taken to tip-toeing around the Gym. He’d always thought that Misty had an unfair reputation of being violent—ear pulling events aside, of course—but now he was thinking he’d been a little hasty on that judgment. Misty was violent. And mean.

So he tended to flit between his room, the Surksit room—since there was no chance of finding Misty in there—and the kitchen, because it was the only place where he had the skills to sooth Misty’s wrath.

But otherwise, he was on edge. So as he was walking down the hallway, hoping to take a shower, he nearly jumped through the ceiling when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s me, Brock,” Solidad said, instantly easing his trepidation.

“Oh, hi, Solidad,” Brock said, too overcome with relief to try any move on her.

“I was thinking that maybe I could try talking to Misty for you. This is a good thing that you’re trying to do for her, but she doesn’t seem to see it that way. Perhaps she just needs to hear it from someone else?”

Brock smiled. “That would be incredible, thank you!”

He would be sure to be far, far away when that conversation happened.

March 22, day 5

Solidad is going out of her way to help Brock on his masochistic mission of madness. I’m personally not choosing not to help because I think that Brock’s failures in this are funny—though they are—but because it seems pointless. If Misty’s held on to this fear for the past eighteen years, then I don’t think there’s anything that we can do about it. Or that doing so will cause her—and us—more pain than is worth it. And those Surskit.

Yesterday, he held one of the poor babies up to her and I thought that she would smash it up against a wall with her bare hands. Masquerain almost killed her.

Solidad, Drew, and Misty were seated at the dining room table, eating some delightful food that Brock had made before mysteriously disappearing. The girls were taking part in idle chit-chat while Drew was reading a newspaper.

“My cousin lives in Cerulean and I was thinking about visiting her tomorrow. She just had a baby recently, and I would love to see her,” Solidad said idly as she blew on her hot soup.

Misty’s eyes immediately darted up, bright and shining. “Ooh, a baby! So cute!”

A smile spread on Solidad’s lips for a moment before she swallowed a spoonful of soup. “Aren’t they just? I love babies.”

“Me too! They’re all so cute!”

“Baby Pokémon too.”

“Ugh, I know! I get so excited whenever we have any new babies.”

“Well, you do right now.”

“We do?”

“The Surskit, Misty.”

“…Oh.”

Solidad leaned forward, trying to catch Misty’s eyes as the fell to the roll she’d been pinching and eating crumbs from—no need to eat like a lady when her sisters weren’t around to bug her about that. “You don’t think that the babies are the slightest bit cute, Misty?”

Misty sighed, looking at Solidad with all traces of baby-induced sparkle erased from her eyes. “Do you think a swarm of ten Beedrill are cute?”

“Not cute, no, but it’s entirely diff—”

“Now imagine those Beedrill are small, with translucent bodies, beady eyes, and scrambling all over each other and you as they search for food, because that’s all they know how to do.”

“Okay, but—”

“Now imagine that they’re living in your house, swarming in your pool—your sacred place—growing bigger every day until they’re big enough to ram down the door and suck the juices out of you with their gross insectile fangs!”

Drew and Solidad looked at Misty, who was panting lightly from her outburst and then each other before Drew set down his spoon and scooted away from the table.

“I’m done.”

March 23, day 6

Clearly the madness isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Solidad’s attempt was a total bust. But she’s going to keep trying to help, I’m sure. She considers Brock a friend.

I’m considering running to the port and boarding the next boat to Hoenn so that May can restore my sanity. And you know that I must be going crazy if I think May will restore my sanity.

“Drew!” Brock called excitedly when he spotted Drew by the pool, flocked by the Surskit he was feeding. “Where have you been?”

Drew cast Brock a momentary dry look before returning to the task at hand. “I was helping Solidad cart some feed from the PokéChow supplier. Now she’s out getting some vitamins.”

For a moment, Brock felt a tickle of guilt that he wasn’t helping as much as he should with the babies…Then again, the babies were Drew and Solidad’s responsibility, while Brock was just trying to be a good friend to Misty and help her overcome a childhood fear.

“I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how to get Misty over her fear of these little guys.” Brock reached over and pet the yellow cap on the most recently fed Surskit. It crawled out of the pool and curled up on the tile, its short blue legs struggling to find a comfortable position.

Drew shrugged. “She’s afraid of all Bugs?”

“Yep.”

Having fed the last of the Surskit, Drew sighed as he stood up and wiped his hands on his cargo shorts. “You could get her started with my Butterfree. Girls tend to like them.”

Brock thought back to when Ash had owned his Butterfree and how Misty had responded. She’d been so encouraging when they were helping him woo the pink Butterfree, and she had seemed honestly sad when Ash had released him …Maybe Drew was onto something.

“That’s a great idea, Drew! I’ll call Misty down right now!”

“Uh, you might want to hold on there, Brock.”

Brock, who had already started out of the room turned back to Drew in confusion. “What?”

“We’re still in the room with all the Surskit and my Masquerain. Perhaps a different location will serve you better?”

“…Right.”

It was a staring contest.

Butterfree was standing calmly, looking up at Misty, waiting for the moment of impact.

Meanwhile, Misty was reaching out to touch Butterfree. Slowly. Ever so slowly. It had been going on so long, Drew wasn’t even sure that her hand was moving anymore. She was crouching on the ground so as to be at eye-level with the Bug, and Drew couldn’t believe that her legs weren’t asleep yet. Or perhaps being so close to Butterfree had ended up being too much for her and she’d gone dumb. He couldn’t be sure.

She was about to make contact when all of a sudden she leapt up, screamed, “I can’t do it,” and ran out of the room.

Drew looked tiredly at Brock and sighed as he returned Butterfree to its ‘Ball. Brock just shook his head.

Back to the drawing board.

March 24, day 7

You know, I’m beginning to feel a little harassed. After the failure with my Butterfree, they tried with Solidad’s. Don’t know why they thought that’d be any different. Then they tried with Masquerain, which went even worse, because I’m pretty sure she has a grudge against Misty now for, you know, hating her children.

Aaand here he comes. Again.

Brock approaching with Solidad in toe was enough to compel Drew to put his notebook down on the floor and raise his arms up to his chest in the shape of an X before saying, “Uh-uh. No way. This is not my issue. Remember that I am caring for ten babies right now. I can’t parent you too.”

“Relax, Drew. We were just going to tell you that Misty said we need to move the Surskit to another room while she cleans the sap out of the pool.”

Even as Brock knelt down to pick up one of the babies, Drew couldn’t help but feel a tension headache starting behind his forehead. Brock’s presence was just beginning to have that effect on him.

“Drew,” Solidad started, her calming voice easing him a little bit, “wasn’t May afraid of Pokémon when she first started her journey?”

That caused a hiccup in Drew’s steps as he turned to Solidad.

“May?”

March 25, day 8

I called May. She’s gonna be here in a few days. She seems excited to see the babies—who have been growing. They’re all around half a food now, except for a little runt—and she’s excited for a new adventure and traveling. In typical May style. I wish she could get here sooner. Solidad is so much a part of Brock’s mission now that I have to avoid both of them. They’re running short of ideas, though, so Misty’s been pretty smug. Also, she seems to be taking out her anger on all of her challengers. One today even left in tears.

He shouldn’t have used a Caterpie.

“Is Brock bugging you?”

Drew had been brewing some tea when Misty came up to him from the other side of the kitchen counter. “Huh?”

“I love Brock a lot. He’s the brother I never had. But he’s insufferable sometimes, right? I know he’s bugging you about this bug thing. And, of course, I like it even less than you do. But, just so you know, if he’s bugging you, here’s the trick. Pull him by his ear. It’ll snap him out of whatever craziness he’s in.”

Misty winked and walked away.

Drew heard is teapot whistle and smirked.

Sure, she was just trying to get him to do her dirty work, but it was nice to have an ally.

March 26, day 9

Misty isn’t so bad. I think that I may be her favorite person in the house, since I’m not trying to force bugs on her. And I’m not her sister. It’s pretty obvious that there are problems there. It’s crazy. May’s is the only family that I’ve met that isn’t fucked up. Luckily, Misty’s sisters aren’t turning out to actually be around a lot, which makes for a little more breathing room around here. Especially since when they are here, Daisy’s boyfriend is usually here too.

He’s strange.

March 27, day 10

Somehow this journal has devolved into ranting about Brock’s crazy schemes and my serious case of cabin fever. The Surskit are doing well. They’re in complete control of their bodies. They roughhouse with each other a little bit, but don’t seem to be able to use any moves but Tackle. But that’s a good start for their young age!

It’s just now occurring to me that I have no idea what we’re going to do with them after they’re grown. There’s no way that Solidad and I each need five Surskit. And it’s sure not looking like the Cerulean Gym is going to take any of them. Hm…

Drew, Solidad, and Brock were busy moving some sod into the Gym and laying it around the pool. They’d ordered it a couple of days before, thinking that it would be nice if the whole room resembled more of a real habitat for the Surskit. They were, after all, amphibious. Not even amphibious; they were terrestrial creatures. They just liked being on or around the water. But the tiled room didn’t provide them with much more than water as a resource. So they’d brought in some plants in the days prior, but what they really needed was some grass. Solidad was even talking about enrichment activities, like they were making a full on zoo or something.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

Out of nowhere, Brock suddenly pulled at the roll of sod that he and Solidad had been carrying and tried to support the whole thing himself. Solidad looked on worriedly while Drew just narrowed his eyes in harsh judgment. He was clearly just trying to show off to Solidad.

Idiot.

He began quivering under the weight of the sod, so Solidad moved forward to help him again.

“No, I’ve got it!” Brock insisted. As he did so, he swung his weight a little bit too much to the side and slipped on some not-yet covered tile.

And of course he landed in the pool.

Solidad shrieked a little bit, her hands flying to her face as Brock and the sod tumbled, sending the Surskit flying through the water as their usually calm surface was disrupted.

It took all three of them ten minutes to get the sodden sod out of the pool.

And Masquerain now had someone else on her hit list.

March 28, day 11

Okay, let’s talk about Brock’s epic failure yesterday…

March 29, day 12

May’s arriving today. I’m going to the port now to pick her up. It’s embarrassing how well I know Cerulean now. This isn’t what my life should be.

But May’s here now and contest seasons starts in only a couple of weeks. Then everything will be great.

Upon entry into the Gym…

“Omigod, Misty, this is your friend?”

“She’s beautiful!”

“First the green-haired kid and now this‽”

Everyone had been waiting in the lobby to greet May. But before Drew knew it, he was pushed out of the way so the Sensational Sisters could proceed in prodding her skin and her hair, commenting on what excellent self-care she did and how Misty could learn a thing or too, which was enough to make Misty’s eye twitch and everyone else to take a step away.

Daisy grabbed May by the shoulders and held her in front of Misty, as though presenting a work of art she’d created. “Misty, how do you have such beautiful friends?”

“I don’t know, Daisy,” Misty ground out through gritted teeth before brightening her expression and facing May with a smile. “Hey, May! How were the boat rides?”

“Oh, just fine,” May answered nervously.

Suddenly, Drew stepped up and took May’s bag from her hand. “Here, I’ll bring this to your room,” he said suavely.

May looked confused for a second as she watched Drew walk away before she snapped out of it and cried, “Hey, that’s my stuff!” before running after him.

Misty gave Brock a heavy dose of side-eye and said, “Maybe you should be asking Drew for advice about something else.”

“I’m so glad you guys asked me here,” May said as she fell back on one of the stylish, but surprisingly uncomfortable sofas in the Waterflower’s living room. “I was getting a serious case of cabin fever at home. Max is travelling and so being the only child is too much attention.”

As much as Brock liked May, he knew he had to get down to business. They’d all been living at the Gym for a couple of weeks and…that was enough.

“Well, be prepared for it to be a lot worse here,” Drew said, echoing Brock’s internal sentiment as he plopped down on a chair himself. “Brock is trying to turn Misty into a monster. And take us all down with him.”

“I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to help with all of this,” May stated, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Ash told me that you were afraid of Pokémon when you first started on your journey, but that you got over it pretty quickly,” Brock stated. “So we’re hoping that maybe that can help Misty get over her fear of bugs?”

May scratched behind her ear and looked at Brock apologetically. “I don’t know…I wasn’t really afraid of Pokémon. I just didn’t like them.”

“I think the same principle applies,” Solidad said as she waltzed in with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. The group had very much made themselves at home in the past few weeks. It was only fair, as Misty was forcing them to take part in the chores her sisters refused to do. “Perhaps you getting over your dislike of Pokémon could be enlightening.”

“Well, I…” Thoughts creased May’s forehead as she tried to think back. “I had always grown up around Pokémon. So just having them in the vicinity didn’t help. I guess that it was having them in need and then having to take care of one myself that really made the difference.”

Something sparked behind Brock’s eyes. “That’s an idea…”

Drew eyed him warily, as if reading his mind. “Not a good one.”

“Misty!”

Brock seemed way too excited for anything good to be coming her way. Misty instantly hardened her gaze and pursed her lips as she turned towards Brock. “Yes?”

“I thought of a great way for you to deal with Grass-Type opponents.”

“Ice Types?” Misty deadpanned, thinking of her sisters’ Dewgong, whom she used nearly every day.

Brock blinked. Damn, he hadn’t thought of that. “I thought of another great way.”

From behind his back, Brock pulled out a sleeping little Surskit. Brock could see the scream bubbling up Misty’s throat, but he put a finger to his lips, pointing to the sleeping baby.

“Brock‽” Misty whisper-screamed. “What are you doing?”

“Presenting you with the answer to your problem. See, the Bug Typing will trump any Grass Type. And when it evolves, it’ll be a Flying Type too! That’ll doubly take out any Grass Pokémon.”

“And it won’t be a Water Type anymore.”

Again, Brock realized he hadn’t thought this through entirely.

He had to try another angle.

“But Misty. This little Surskit is the runt. Its brothers and sisters just walk all over it and it can never get Masquerain’s attention.” He raised the little Surskit up to his face as he gave Misty watery Growlithe eyes. “Poor baby.”

There! Brock saw just a hint of softness enter her eyes as her gaze fell to the innocent sleeping Pokémon.

Hesitantly, ever so hesitantly, Misty stepped forward and began reaching a hand out. She was only millimeters from the little ponytail-like cap on its head before Surskit’s eyes opened and it straightened up to its full height, showing its beady black eyes and it’s long, insectile legs.

Instantly, Misty ran away, echoing screams as the only proof she’d even been there.

March 30, day 13

Well, this has officially gone on longer than the incubation period. Remember how simple life was then? And no progress has been made with Misty. Literally none.

On the bright side, the Surskit are doing well. All are growing and beginning to really show their individual personalities. It’s a good thing Brock’s so interested by what’s happening with them. That Brock is actually pretty smart and interesting.

On the even brighter side: May is here.

…I’d missed her.

March 31, day 14

It’s probably super crazy how much better I feel now that May’s here. She is the perfect buffer between all the craziness because she’s just so damn happy and easygoing. Well, as long as she’s been well-fed. Fortunately, that is the one thing that Brock is good for. Really, his food is excellent.

But May is really great. I wasn’t particularly upset when she left to go to Sinnoh or when she left to go to Hoenn. Especially since we knew that she’d be back in a few weeks both times. But when she comes back, it makes you wonder how you were getting by when she wasn’t there. Because it’s so much better when she is here.

I wonder if she feels that way about me.

May quickly learned that her job was not to help Brock and Misty—it seemed best to stay away from that mess—but rather to keep Drew sane. That had been Solidad’s job before, May was sure, but her motherly instincts were drawn more towards the baby Surskit than to Drew.

Plus, it was easier to take care of ten needy babies who never slept at the same time, needed to be fed every few hours, and who were already about three times the size they’d been when they were born than it was to care after one moody teenager.

She found that the best thing they could do was actually take care of said babies, since they were such a hefty distraction. And while Misty didn’t yet see the charm of Bug babies, May had to admit that the tiny Pokémon were quite cute. Surskit looked like little blue dolls tat just happened to be able to skate along the water like it was an ice rink. They already had the pink cheeks—she just wanted to give them little striped scarves to complete the look.

The scream from Brock’s most recent attempt rang throughout the whole Gym and May could palpably sense Drew tensing up without even looking at him. “Drew, why don’t you and Solidad take Masquerain and Butterfree outside to stretch their wings in the fresh air?”

Drew looked at her like he definitely knew what she was doing, but was deciding whether he would go along with it or not when Solidad piped up.

“That’s alright. I’ve got it in here; why don’t the two of you do it instead?”

Solidad’s Butterfree flew over to May’s shoulder, the fluttering wings feeling playful against her ear and causing her hair to blow a little. She let out a giggle before standing and taking Drew’s hand to hoist him up.

With nothing more than a hair flip, Drew lifting his arm for his Masquerain to land as he followed May wordlessly out of the Gym.

Solidad smiled to herself before moving onto a new Surskit to play with.

April 1, day 15

It’s April now. Apparently this is the day that ten year olds start their journeys in Kanto, so the Gym might be seeing a lot of rug rats in the next few weeks. But, more importantly, it means that the contest season is starting in just a couple of weeks.

And that this all has been going on far too long. The Surskit are almost fully grown, and none of us have any idea what we’re going to do with them. It seems like they’ll stay here until Misty gets over her fear.

Which means we’re never leaving.

Well, they aren’t. I’m leaving for contest season regardless of the state of Misty’s phobia.

“You know, Ash actually helped me a lot,” May mused over a breakfast of cereal as Misty dealt with an early challenger.

Drew grunted, but Brock and Solidad looked on with interest.

“How so?” Solidad asked.

“I just mean that seeing him care so much for Pikachu was really inspiring. And how excited he was by all the new Pokémon we saw. Seeing that connection is definitely part of why I think Blaziken and I were able to bond as much as we did.”

Brock nodded. “Misty never did have a problem with Butterfree or Heracross.”

“And a Heracross isn’t a traditionally pretty Pokémon like Butterfree. It’s a giant bug,” Solidad mused. “I can’t believe that Misty wouldn’t be frightened of a Heracross.”

“So maybe we need to invite Ash,” May suggested.

“Sure, all we need is more people in this house,” Drew mumbled into his Cheerios.

At just that moment, Misty walked into the dining room with a towel around her neck and plucked a box of cereal off the table, sticking a fist in and shoving the contents into her mouth.

“Good Battle, Misty?” Solidad asked.

Misty shrugged. “Just an over-eager youngster,” she replied, cornflakes spraying as she did so.

The doorbell rang throughout the entire Gym, causing Misty to groan. “Really? Well, this one better not mind if I eat breakfast during the match. Either that or I’m going to eat him for breakfast.”

She shoved another angry fistful of cornflakes into her mouth and chomped through it like she really was eating him for breakfast.

“You’re not going to get that?” May asked apprehensively.

Misty waved it away. “That’s what the receptionist is for. He’ll make an announcement over the intercom when I need to go to the arena.”

But there never was an announcement. Rather, everyone looked up when a new face entered the dining room.

“Speak of the devil…” Brock murmured.

“Psh, figures,” Drew muttered.

Misty seemed the most surprised, though, setting down the cereal box and wiping the crumbs from her mouth. “Ash?”

“Hey, guys!” Ash said excitedly, picking up the cereal box as soon as Misty set it down while Pikachu made like an Emolga and leapt towards Misty.

“Hi, Pikachu!” Misty cheered.

“Pikachupi!”

“Ash, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay in Sinnoh a little longer,” Brock asked.

“When I heard we were trying to get Misty to overcome her fear of bugs, I knew that this would be the most exciting place to be,” Ash explained through a dry mouthful of cereal. “So here I am!”

“But I told you that weeks ago,” Misty stated as she concerned herself with scratching Pikachu’s head.

Ash shrugged. “That’s how long it took me to get here. So, how’s it going?”

Ash’s eyes roved over the table, noting May, Drew, Solidad, and Brock’s awkward silence as they looked at their food and Misty’s fiery eyes practically scorching Brock. Ash sweat-dropped.

“That well, eh?”

April 2, day 16

So Ash is here now. Haven’t decided if it’s a good or bad thing. He’s even better at riling Misty up than Brock is, which would have been funny a couple of weeks ago, but now I feel like if a Darkrai ever puts me in an eternal nightmare, it will be of Misty’s angry voice and her screams.

He’s good with the Surskit though. It seemed like he came for Misty, but he’s way more preoccupied with the babies than he is with her. Except that he watches all of her battles. But, again, I think that’s about the Pokémon…

“Okay, Ash. Work your magic,” Brock whispered in his ear as he patted his shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the room to which the Surskit were relegated. Misty eyed him suspiciously, not having heard what he said, but walked right behind Ash with Pikachu in her arms nevertheless.

Brock stayed back, a smile already growing on his face. It meant a lot that Misty was even going into the room that she’d avoided for weeks. Under the caveat, of course, that she could leave whenever she wanted and, unfortunately, smack Brock upside the head if she felt necessary.

So maybe Brock would just sneak away while he still had the chance…

“Oh my God, this is so cool!”

The excitement simply pulsed off of Ash as he took in the sight of all of the babies. Meanwhile, Misty strictly avoided looking at them and instead took in all the adjustments that had been made to her pool. Lily pads, strips of grass terrain across some of the tile, food everywhere. Misty frowned. All that would surely be a bitch to clean up once these bugs were out of here.

While Misty hung by the door, using Pikachu’s presence to sooth herself, Ash made for the sod to kneel down on beside the pool.

“Oh man, they’re even doing Attacks already!”

Sure enough, Misty spotted some of the Surskit playing around with Bubble. They weren’t using it as an Attack, exactly; more as a fun pool game. It was almost…cute.

Almost.

Misty almost shrieked as one Surskit skidded across the pool and launched into Ash’s lap. He rolled back and laughed, but Misty could only feel those tiny legs prodding over herself. Sensing her tension, Pikachu reached up and patted her bare shoulder, which caused goosebumps to rise before taking them away.

“Aw, Mist! How could you say no to taking one of these little guys in?” He held it up and tried the same Growlithe-eyes look on her the Brock had tried. But she had to admit that Ash was a lot better at it. “And you have to admit that Drew’s Masquerain is a pretty Pokémon. It looks like one of those dumb paper fans or…I dunno, something else that girls like.”

Misty rolled her eyes. Ash sure knew how to get to a girl’s heart.

Ash tossed her a dopey grin and her heart thumped.

Okay, maybe that thought wasn’t as sarcastic as she would have liked it to be.

“Pikapi!” Pikachu called out, feeding off his Trainer’s excitement. He was waving his arms at Ash, looking like he wanted to join in the fun. Misty felt bad for holding him back.

So, against her baser instincts, Misty approached, Pikachu patting her wrist in encouragement. However, as soon as they got only a few feet away from Ash, Pikachu leapt out of her arms and sat right down next to Ash and the Surskit, appearing to enjoy getting to spend time with a Pokémon smaller than he.

Misty looked on for a moment, thinking that the scene was kind of cute. The Surskit took an instant liking to Pikachu, who let it play with his tail. Then, suddenly, Misty felt something brush her leg and her whole world froze.

It was about ten minutes later that Ash looked up and said, “Hey, where’d Misty go?”

April 3, day 17

You know, I think there was a point of time where I was jealous of May and Ash’s relationship. But now I see that he really does only ever think about Pokémon. And if he’s 17 and only thinks about Pokémon now, then I can only imagine how little he thought about girls a few years ago. Yeah. Nothing to worry about.

Except for Misty. Because her crush on him is suuuuper obvious.

“I swear, it is a blessing that Misty’s sisters practically don’t live at the Gym,” Drew said as he and May walked down the streets of Cerulean. Solidad had sent them to the Pokémon Center to pick up Masquerain, Butterfree, and Misty’s Pokémon from her most recent match.

“You’re just saying that because they’re always giving you grief about your good looks.”

Drew looked at May, thoroughly amused. “My good looks?”

May froze, not having realized quite what she had said until it was parroted back to her. “Th-They seem to think so. That’s all.”

“Oh, I thought you were saying I looked good.” He didn’t sound disappointed, though. He was strictly teasing her.

“Well, of course you do! You’re a coordinator! It’s your bread and butter to look good for others.”

“So you do think so?”

“Just in a purely technical sense. You take care of yourself. Don’t make it seem like I’m trying to imply anything—”

“Hush, don’t break yourself, May,” Drew eased her, putting a hand on her arm when she started getting really frazzled. “No one’s trying to imply anything. It’s just fun to see you get all worked up.”

May huffed. “Yeah, well I’d like to see you worked up, just once.”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you?”

Realizing her error, May gave a disgusted groan. “Okay, that’s enough! Where is this Pokémon Center?”

She rushed ahead of him and Drew could only laugh, speeding up his pace until he could catch her.

Misty stood in her spot in the doorway of the Surskit room. But this time Brock was standing next to her.

“Wasn’t he coming because he wanted to see you trying to get me to get over my fear of bugs?” Misty mused.

“That is what he said.”

They were both watching him and Pikachu play with the Surskit. Masquerain and Butterfree weren’t out of their ‘Balls constantly like they had been at the beginning, but they were out now and Ash was also getting a kick out of playing with them. He was really in his element.

“He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to see you, Misty,” Brock said comfortingly.

He knew about her crush. She knew he knew about her crush. But he also knew that he wasn’t allowed to say that he knew. And she knew that too. This kind of the thing was the closest that they ever came to acknowledging it.

“I swear, he will only ever love Pokémon.”

Misty had her arms crossed and she was looking longingly out at him, not even the Bugs being enough to wipe the expression away.

“Hey, maybe one day he’ll treat…someone else the same way.”

Misty scoffed. “Like a Pokémon?”

Brock laughed. “Maybe?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head, Misty could only sigh, “That’s every girl’s dream.”

April 4, day 18

Drew was in his room, brushing out his Absol’s fine fur when Solidad walked in. Her face was a little harder than usual, not a noticeable enough shift for most people to notice, but Drew instantly straightened, feeling like his mother was coming in to scold him.

“Is something wrong?” Drew asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Solidad took a moment to sit down on the edge of his bed and smooth the blanket, tossing a kind smile at Drew’s Absol before turning to Drew himself. Then she took his journal and placed it on the bed. “You left it in the Surskit’s room.”

“Oh, thanks,” Drew said, putting it on the side table, internalizing the fact that he hadn’t written anything for that day yet. He’d do it before he went to sleep.

“I read some of it.”

Drew looked up, surprised. Solidad stated it bluntly, with a touch of guilt coloring her tone. He realized that he didn’t feel like his privacy had been invaded. If it had been someone else, then yeah. But not Solidad. So he said, “Okay.”

“You’d said that you were recording stuff about the Surskit, so I thought I’d take a look at your observations. I didn’t realize that it had personal thoughts in there as well; I should have, but I didn’t consider—”

“It’s fine,” Drew said bluntly. “That is what it was supposed to be. I just realized that I liked keeping a journal, so I kept doing it.”

Solidad was kind of blindsided by Drew’s non-reaction. But after a brief pause, she figured she might as well go along with it. “I always had figured that you liked May.”

“I don’t really hide it.”

Solidad smiled. “You don’t.”

Drew knew it was obvious. Misty’s crush on Ash was obvious, but so was the fact that she wanted it to be a secret. But Drew was rather conspicuous because, well, why hide it?

“So why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

“It’ll happen naturally when it’s supposed to,” he said simply. “I’m just laying the groundwork until then.”

“Drew, you’ve been laying the groundwork for almost six years,” Solidad pointed out, beckoning Absol over to her so that she could take over brushing. Absol happily obliged, thrusting its chin into Solidad’s hand. “It’s getting embarrassing.”

Drew bristled at that. “She’ll come to me when the time is right,” he stated, standing up to set out his clothes for the next day. He and the rest of the group had taken some time earlier in the month to stock up on supplies for their temporary home.

“Drew, I hate to say this about your beloved,” she didn’t get away with that one without a very unamused glance from Drew, “but there is absolutely no way that she’s going to pick up what you’re putting down unless you spell it out for her.”

“Untrue,” Drew stated as he loudly set down the book that he’d been reading before bed on the bedside table. “We flirt all the time.”

Solidad blinked. “Do you think that Ash and Misty flirt?”

“Yes, sometimes. In their weird, repressed kind of way,” Drew answered easily. But as he waved away the obvious question, his hand caught in the air, as though hitting the very idea Solidad had released into the world.

She smiled, seeing that he was getting it. “And do you think that Ash realizes?”

Drew groaned. “Oh, man.”

April 5, day 19

I’m not even going to talk about the fact that I missed yesterday. That’s Solidad’s fault. She distracted me.

The idea that May doesn’t realize that there’s anything between us…I guess it should have occurred to me. But it’s just so obvious, that I’d thought…I don’t know. I guess I was just hoping. But I want to be doing more than just hoping. I don’t want to be like Ash and Misty. And lord knows I don’t want to be like Brock…

Brock, for his part, was happy. Ash provided Misty with enough distraction that she no longer felt it necessary to constantly remind Brock how pissed off she was. With her fists. In his chest.

She was even going into the Surskit habitat occasionally. About once a day. She was willing to watch everyone else play with the Surskit, but refused to make much progress past the door. It had looked like they were going to have another breakthrough the day before when she again attempted to cross the threshold, but then Lily had pretended to toss one of the Surskit at her and that was the end of that.

To tell the truth, the Surskit were almost fully grown by now, so Brock had to take a step back and ask himself, what was the point? Then, if he really took a step back, he realized that they could have sent the Surskit to Professor Oak from the beginning. But he decided that it was not in his best interest to share that bit of information with Drew.

No, at this point, the venture was all about Misty for Brock. Babies or not, the Surskit were cute, dammit! Even Misty’s sisters thought so!

Speaking of…

Violet was scrounging through the kitchen—Brock had reorganized the whole place…three times since arriving. None of the four sisters used the kitchen very much, save for the refrigerator for takeout and premade meals, but it nevertheless proved annoying when they had to relearn how to navigate their own kitchen every week. When she finally landed on her goal, rice cakes, she eagerly began opening up the package. Then Brock swooped in.

“Hey, I could make you something much better,” he offered as he leaned over the counter.

Struggling to open the package, Violet began searching for some scissors. She eyed Brock wearily, trying to figure out exactly what double entendre he’d planted in that sentence. She couldn’t find one, but she was sure that it was there.

“That’s fine,” she said after finally finding the kitchen shears and loosing her flavorless snack. “I’m gonna put some peanut butter and honey on it.”

“Oh, you don’t need any honey. You’re already sweeter than the sap from a Bulbasaur’s bulb.”

Squeamishly, Violet placed the rice cake on the counter before backing away. “Uh, right. Catch you later, Brock.”

Brock sighed, flopping against the counter. Three sisters down.

Well, guess it was on to Solidad next.

April 6, day 20

Ash has been teaching the Surskit attacks. We were just letting them learn on their own before and studying their behavior, but there’s no stopping that kid. He’s taken a liking to one in particular that he’s been pitting against the others, so they’re all getting a bit of training. They’re learned a few moves beyond tackle now. They all know Bubble and some are learning Quick Attack.

No, I don’t have anything to say about May.

April 7, day 21

Okay. It’s been three weeks. This is longer than I was at Solidad’s. The only other place that has seen this much of me is LaRousse, and I don’t say that with fondness. And we’ve been dealing with an abundance of youngsters for the past week. At least that’s kept Misty and even her sisters occupied. Which has kept Brock and Solidad from meddling. Except for Solidad meddling with me. But…I still don’t know what to make of that.

April 8, day 22

I talked to Masquerain about sending each of the Surskit to different trainers and coordinators. She was upset by the idea, but we all know that it’s the only option. And it will be best for the Surskit too. I imagine it won’t be too hard to find them homes in Kanto, since they’re a rare species here. We’ll just have to take extra care about where they end up going. But it’s getting to be that time. We’ve taken them out a few times, but it’s not enough. They’re fully grown and absolutely itching to get out of that damn pool.

I know how they feel.

April 9, day 23

Brock is losing steam. You can tell. Solidad stopped really helping him out about a week ago, as did May. Ash…never proved to be much help. And Brock is out of ideas.

Thank the merciful gods.

“Brock! Brock! I’ve got it!”

Ash breathlessly ran into Brock’s room mirth shining in his bright brown eyes.

“Got what?” Brock asked disheartenedly—he’d just seen Tracey and Daisy together and his poor heart was broken.

“The solution for Misty’s problem!”

“What’s that?”

Ash pulled his Pokédex from his jacket—looking mighty pleased with himself all the while—and pressed a button before thrusting the device in Brock’s face.

“Surskit secrets a thick, sugary syrup, or a sweet scent. The syrup is exuded as a defense mechanism, while the scent can attract prey.

“Sweet Scent is a move which lowers the target’s evasiveness, luring them in or causing them to become relaxed.”

When Ash shut off his Pokdéx and turned to Brock triumphantly, Brock could do nothing but give a defeated sigh and say, “It’s worth a shot.”

She was in the room. Only a few feet in, but the door was closed behind her, and that was enough.

Everyone else was there too. Solidad, Drew, May, Brock, Pikachu—though not Misty’s sisters…but when were they ever there?

Ash had given them all the briefest details of some half-baked plan. All they knew was that they needed to be behind Ash and his favored Surskit.

And then he shouted, “Surskit, Sweet Scent!”

Everyone—except for Brock—fell into complete alarm when they noticed that the pink powder born from the Surskit’s head floating in the direction of Misty. They all smelled the room become fragranced with the light, airy scent of spring blooms, they didn’t feel the effects of the move.

But Misty sure did.

“Ash! What in the hell do you think…you’re…do…”

Everyone watched in disbelief as Misty’s eyes dulled, a silly grin appearing on her face. She began wavering on her feet as she stepped fearlessly towards the Surskit…and Ash.

“It’s working,” Brock murmured under his breath.

Actually, Misty seemed altogether unaware of the Surskit. The one that Ash had fired at her scurried behind him, frightened by the human’s strange behavior. Ash, for his part, looked concerned, stepping forward and putting his arms out so as to catch Misty if she fell.

And fall she did. Right into his arms, looking up at him dazedly as he supported her dead weight.

“M-Misty? Are you alright?”

“Aw, Ash.”

“What, Misty?”

“Ash, I knew you loved me.”

Save for the sounds of the Surskit skimming along the top of the pool, the room fell to silence, everyone watching the scene with bated breath. Even Ash didn’t have anything to say. For a moment. Then, brilliantly:

“Whaa?”

Misty, however, was unfazed. She was standing more on her own now, petting Ash’s shoulder as she looked at him with hooded lids.

“You’ve only ever loved Pokémon. And now you’ve finally done the same with me!” She poked his nose playfully. “You love me.”

Ash’s cheeks heated up as he looked around the room—whether it was to see how his friends were reacting or because he was looking for an escape was anybody’s guess. Pikachu cocked a his head at him; not even Pikachu understood what was going on in his friend’s mind.

“Right, Brock? He treated me like a Pokémon! That’s the dream, right?”

All eyes turned to Brock at that…subprime statement. He winced. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

Misty stood up a little more steadily on her own feet, but it was just so that she could wrap her arms around Ash in a more proper hug, burying her head in his shoulder. “Mm, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Then she pulled away and looked straight in his eyes. They were about the same height, so it was with ease that she said, “Don’t worry, Ash. I love you too,”

…and pecked him on the lips.

“Okay, okay.”

Brock’s best friend instinct kicked in at that moment and he stood up from his perch by the pool and went over to Ash and Misty, realizing that this was a situation where she needed to be saved from herself. The Sweet Scent had her so relaxed she was acting almost high and he was already sure that she’d be so embarrassed when she came out of this that she would smack him silly for not having stopped her sooner.

“What, Ash? You don’t wanna play anymore?”

“That’s enough, Misty,”

“Wait, Brock.”

Misty had a pouting expression on her face as she continued holding onto Ash. Brock was all ready to pry her away, but Ash…well, Ash’s expression was completely unreadable.

“What, Ash?” Brock asked, trying to urge him on.

“I…don’t know. I’m just trying to…catch up.”

“Aaaash,” Misty whined. “Don’t you love me?”

“I, uh, I think I have no clue.”

“You have no clue?” Brock deadpanned.

Ash shrugged the best he could while Misty’s arms were still wrapped tight around him. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

Brock looked at him in disbelief. “How have you never thought about it before?”

“I just haven’t. But let’s try that again.” To Misty’s delight, Ash closed the distance and this time gave her a peck in the lips, just a couple of seconds longer.

“I don’t know…” Ash said again, but this time as a smile slowly rose to his lips. “That was kind of fun.”

“We could do that some more, Ash,” Misty cooed, leaning in again.

“No! I think you need to go to sleep,” Brock insisted, this time actually going in to pry Misty off of Ash. Ash nodded along with Brock’s suggestion and did his best to squeeze out of Misty’s grip.

As Brock led a disoriented Misty out of the room, Ash turned around to the rest of the—completely stunned—group and said, “Wow, that was different.”

Pikachu, for his part, bounded over to Ash, leaping into his arms and giving a congratulatory “Pi pikachu!”

“Aw, thanks, buddy!”

“No,” Drew said. “Uh-uh. This does not happen for you before it happens for us.”

Drew gestured between him and May, which caused her eyes to completely bug out of her head. “Whaa?”

Before she knew what was going on, Drew marched over to her, grabbed the side of her face and kissed her full on the lips. May gave a little squeak before giving into it. It only lasted a few moments longer than that, though, before Drew pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Drew?” May breathed.

“May, I’ve given you flowers for years, we flirt endlessly, we’ve travelled together since you left this goober,” he gestured towards Ash, who had the sense to look offended, “and, most of all, I’ve stayed with you even when we’ve been travelling with Harley.” He looked to Solidad. “That goes for you too.”

Solidad could only give a little shrug before nodding in agreement.

He turned back to May. “I only ever traveled alone before you. And I liked it. But when I’m with you, it makes me wonder why I ever, ever wanted to travel alone.”

“Drew,” May nearly whispered. “I had no idea.”

Drew nodded slowly. “Yeah…that’s pretty obvious. But, um, what do you think?”

May could only smile shyly. “I think it sounds really amazing.”

“So,” Drew looked hopefully at May, “maybe things can be different when we travel through Kanto?”

May nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Now come here.” He brought her into the warmest hug he’d ever felt and whispered, “Because I love you,” in her ear.

Drew felt the tickle on his neck of May’s laughter and pulled her even closer. He didn’t expect her to say it back. He didn’t even want her to until she’d thought about it more.

But saying it felt oh so good.

“Okay, I totally win! Misty may not have overcome her fear of bugs, but she did overcome her fear of telling Ash how she feels, so I count that as a victor—wait, what’s going on here?”

Brock had come strutting into the room, his voice echoing all throughout before stopping at the vision of Drew and May wrapped together more tightly then a well-made burrito.

Solidad laughed. “You missed confession number two.”

Brock’s expression instantly fell. “Oh man! I’ve been waiting on that one for years too!”

“Really?” May asked over Drew’s shoulder, looking mildly concerned.

“Me too,” Solidad added.

“Pikachu.”

That was enough to pull May out of the embrace and look wildly between Brock, Solidad, and Pikachu. “Wait, so everyone knew except for me?”

Ash raised his hand. “I didn’t know.”

Drew looked at him dryly. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Max knew,” Brock added.

That turned May’s face bright red. “He did‽ Ooh, he’s going to hear from me!”

May instantly began stomping out of the room, leaving a bewildered Drew behind for only a second until she turned around, snatched his hand, and continued her way toward the lobby’s videophone.

As they left, Brock sidled up next to Solidad, who only raised an eyebrow at him. “So, Ash and Misty. Drew and May. Guess that you and I are gonna have to get together now.”

“Oh, Brock,” Solidad said in a tone that Brock knew only too well. “I thought you knew. I’m ace.”

“What’s ace?” Ash asked.

“Asexual,” Solidad answered. “I honestly thought you were too.”

“Oh. Nope!” Ash said with cheerful ignorance. “Just honestly never thought about it.”

Solidad smiled. “That’s just precious.”

They continued to chat, not noticing how Brock had curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the room, tears streaming down his face.

April 14

May, Solidad, and I start traveling tomorrow. I feel like it’ll mostly be the same between May and I. Solidad’s the one who’s going to be weird about it. I’m sure she’s going to feel the constant need to chaperone us. It’ll be fun.

That was sarcasm.

Ash is going to stay in Kanto too. Since the season just started for them too, he’s going to challenge the Kanto League again. I guess his near-victory in Sinnoh has him thinking he can take it home this time in Kanto. And I guess he wants to be closer to Misty. I’m not sure if they’re dating. I don’t think they know either. Well, I’m sure Ash doesn’t know. But I’m sure Misty will force him to figure it out someday. Hopefully she won’t need to be all but drugged to do so.

The Surskit all have homes now. Ash, of course, took the one that he and Pikachu befriended. And then the rest are going to Brock’s siblings.

Of course, Misty never got used to the Surskit. But I guess that saga’s going to keep going, now that Ash has one. Maybe it’ll come along the same way Ash’s other bug pokémon have for Misty.

Honestly, it would be really funny if it did, because it would make Brock’s suffering of the past month essentially pointless. All Ash had to do was catch it and that’ll probably make the difference for her.

Oh, the irony.

But, honestly, who cares? Because I have my girlfriend, my best friend, and a brand new contest season.

And, best of all, no Harley.

“Drew, what are you writing?”

May stood over Drew’s spot hunched on the ground, smiling slyly.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait, because we have to help Misty clean up the Surskit room.”

“One more second, May.”

She smiled as she squeezed his shoulder before walking away.

…Second best of all.

#pokemon #fanfiction #pokeshipping #contestshipping #ash and misty #drew and may #aaml #daml #oneshot #alphabet challenge #challenge #pokeani

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heatherdayton · 7 years ago

Photo

task two ; character questionnaire

I. ARE YOU A WILMINGTON NATIVE? IF NOT, WHERE DID YOU GROW UP? TELL US ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD.

“Know what?” She narrowed her eyes with a cheeky grin, pointing. “Sometimes I feel like I am a native. I’m not. I consider myself a hybrid of sorts.” She hoped that if anyone had asked this question and if it would be published, the previous statement would be used as a pull-quote in fancy, italicized lettering. “In Savannah, Georgia is where I spent most of my diaper wearing days… Atlanta, Carrollton, Brunswick… Lived in different places in Georgia and upstate New York. Manhattan. Just moving around and letting some parts of this world know my name. Well, country. Alright, two states. Three, counting North Carolina. I know that sounds dramatic, but just work with it. I’d lived in a house, a basement, an apartment complex, and I was too young to really remember, but we were in a trailer home. My environment was constantly changing. Mom couldn’t stay in one place for too long.”

II. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR FAMILY? DO YOU HAVE SIBLINGS? A LARGE EXTENDED FAMILY?

A genuine, immediate smile formed upon her face, contrary to the reaction she would’ve had if she hadn’t moved to Wilmington. “Robert and Colleen Dayton are the coolest, lamest grandparents on the planet,” Heather shook her head in admiration. “Love ‘em so much. Seriously, come and spend one night at our dinner table. Psst, gramps a little TMI, but you get used to it.” She laughed. Talking about the woman who’d partially raised her was difficult. Part of her wanted to mention her father in Rochester having spent time with him for part of her upbringing and how he’d been working towards being a better father, though bringing him up would undoubtedly spark questions about her mother. Despite nothing had happened yet, it comforted her that he was making an effort to some degree. As for the mother, Laura—prior to Heather, there was Haley. A half-sister she was a stranger to before she stepped foot in North Carolina.

III. DESCRIBE YOUR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.

“Mm, yes. High school. Let’s see. I was,” she hesitated for a bit, “in some way… a teacher’s pet.” Her body winced. “I know, I couldn’t help it. I was that kid. People used to say that I possessed a knack to knowing and understanding things before the questions were even posed. Sounds philosophical. I don’t deny it at all, though. Here’s why: I used to write-in my own bonus questions at the end of exams. Freakin’ show-off. Overall, I was dang focused on my work and had my nose in a book at the library during my free period. Pretty much everything I did in high school was at high school. Didn’t go to any wack high school parties. As for prom, there was this kid in my class. I'm sure we had only two conversations before he’d hit me with the promposal : ‘Heather Dayton, oh Heather Dayton, be my Heather Nighton. I’ll be your Night-on shining armor, join me for prom?’ Corny as hell. I couldn’t say no. I didn't say no.”

IV. WHAT WAS YOUR YEARBOOK SUPERLATIVE? WHY WAS THIS SO?

“Most Likely to Accidentally Discover Something Life-Changing, then Claim That It Was All Intentional.” She recited the words exactly how they’d been written in the yearbook. “I don’t understand it, either. Oddly specific. It was the longest one on the damn page. I never knew whether to accept that as a compliment, because it’s as if people think I can’t discover something totally life changing on purpose? I have to rely on, I dunno, an accident? But at the same time, I guess it’s quite telling of killer instinct, so I usually go with that detail and that makes me feel better ‘bout it.”

V. WHAT DID YOU DO AFTER HIGH SCHOOL? DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE? IF NOT, WHY?

“I did go to college, I graduated here. UNC Wilmington. I’ve got a B.S. in Chemistry. No bullshit,” Heather winked. “If it weren’t for tuition, I’d go back. Hell, I’d pay the loans if desperation called for it. I don’t have any plans currently to go back, I’m quite happy with interning at different places. I’m only stating that I’m not opposed to returning,” she added with a shrug.

VI. WAS THERE AN EVENT IN YOUR LIFE THAT GREATLY IMPACTED WHO YOU ARE NOW AS A PERSON?

“It’s somewhat of a cliché, but I’ve come to the realization that things will fall into place. That stillness becomes a radiance, as Morgan Freeman once said. Moving to this city and making the decision to stay, I could say that it honestly…frightened me. I was afraid that I was missing something, that I was gonna be held back in some way. I don’t know, I feel like I was conditioned to think that seeking change all the time would satisfy me and bring me happiness, but that wasn’t the case at all. Sure, change is good. Change is difficult and hard decisions are necessary. But oh, no. Choosing to stay here—and this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one city before—it was an easy decision. Truthfully, I’d made a plan after college graduation to move again on my own terms, except I’d let the idea of staying here come up, then I just did it. I trusted my gut that this was the right thing to do, for me. It was a good type of change.”

VII. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? IF NOT, DO YOU THINK THAT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU IN THE FUTURE?

“I hope so,” she spoke softly. The nearly twenty-three year old claimed to know an abundance of concepts; however, the chemistry of love remained as something complex. "Looking back at my first relationship as a fourteen year old. At that time, I knew I felt love. I really did, I knew it. I could attempt to explain what goes on, scientifically speaking, in the brain when that happens. Then, as time passed I thought, ‘No, that couldn’t have been love.’ But could have that really been love, for a mere teenage girl?” Her brows furrowed. It was possible that she was overthinking it—that had been something she couldn’t control, a tendency to be looking at things analytically, more often than necessary. “Maybe none of this makes sense. Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense. That’s what’s exciting about love, I presume.”

VIII. WHEN WERE YOU BORN AND WHAT IS YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? DOES IT INFLUENCE YOUR LIFE IN ANY WAY?

“June 12, that would make me a Gemini.” She pressed her mouth into a scowl. “I’ve heard people trying to prove,” the girl rolled her eyes without finishing her thought, “that astrology is a science. I, [laughs] what? Listen, I understand that every side needs to be heard. Many possibilities out there to prove, whatnot. But astrology? A real science! I took this astronomy course in college. Meet this girl, super sweet. Sits next to me on the first day. We’re lab partners. Hit it off, you get me? We talk ‘bout the stars and it’s stupid cute. Then, brings up zodiac signs.” Her face went stone cold. “No. She told me I was a Gemini before I’d even told her my birthday. God? I don't mess with it. She must’ve really studied that nonsense shit real hard, huh? We’ll be here all day if we continue this discussion.”

IX. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR? TELL US SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES TO DO DURING THIS TIME.

“Autumn! I love everything about fall. The weather, the fashion, the mood. Wearing scarves happens to be one of my fave activities. Kidding. Well, that’s real, but fave activities do include pumpkin picking, pumpkin carving, doing my annual Harry Potter marathon. I bake a lot of things at this time ‘cause usually me and the g’parents do fruit picking, so.”

X. WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN TEN YEARS AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE HOPED TO ACHIEVE?

“From what you can tell based on one of my previous answers, I have this mindset that I simply roll with. That I sort of let life do its thing.” As of now, Heather was experiencing work and growing to appreciate different aspects of her interning job in clinical lab science. The girl had an undeniable curiosity in several branches including clinical, nanotech, forensic, and industrial work. Whatever it may be, she strives to be the best version of herself. “I simply want to be happy and do what I love. I’ve got this crazy inkling,” she teased, “that I'll exceed my high school superlative. Totally do something wild and intentional. I realize that’s a big dream, to want to make that big of an impact, but it all starts from within. And I feel very confident that I have what it takes.”

#wilmingtontask #wilmingtontask02 #muse.#this task was super fun omg

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dw-writes · 7 years ago

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Espresso Shot - miloredboy

SO!!! I am so deeply sorry @miloredboy for this taking SO LONG to come out. And because of that, I spent even /more/ time trying to make sure that this turned out as great as it could and I’m sorry it took so long!!!

SO after much waiting, here it is!! My second espresso shot commissioned by the lovely miloredboy for our favorite Edgelord Werewolf Dad: Gabriel Reyes

Gabriel Reyes was the most ridiculous man you knew, besides the obvious fact that, well, he wasn’t human. You had met him at a costume party a few years back, dazzled by the obvious work he had put into his headless horseman costume, and honestly? You were amazed. So much so, you spent most of the night just talking with him. After that, he couldn’t get rid of you. Or, you couldn’t get rid of him? You weren’t really sure. But you grew close. And closer still over the last year, until it reached the point that you weren’t just looking forward to spending time with him, but you were having small day dreams about him kissing you.

“Gabriel?” you asked softly, watching as his back tensed a smidge. He was cooking dinner, something he insisted on doing for you at least once a week. His knife slowed just a bit as he hummed in recognition. “Do you wanna go on a date, maybe?” you asked hesitantly.

This time, his knife stopped. He looked over his shoulder at you, arching an eyebrow. “A date?

“What? Is that out of the question?” You sank into your chair, pouting. “If you don’t wanna go, fine, we don’t have to go on a date.”

“No, no,” he said as he lowered his knife. He turned to you, wiping his hands clean on a towel. “I’m trying to clarify. You’re asking me on a date? Right?” He sported a teasing grin. You pursed your lips and turned away. “No, you can’t run away!” he declared. He took two large steps across the kitchen and placed a hand on either side of your chair. “Now tell me,” he said, adding your name for emphasis, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Not if you’re gonna be a complete smart ass about it,” you mumbled. Gabriel leaned in closed, bumping his forehead against yours. You squeezed your eyes shut to avoid looking at him. “Yes,” you sighed, “Yes, I’m trying to ask you out on a date, Gabe. Are you happy now? Are you happy that you’ve made me admit this to you?”

He chuckled and the sound was right in your ear. You couldn’t help but blush. “I am, actually,” he finally answered. He leaned away from your seat to resume working on dinner. “I was thinking about asking you out myself, actually. But you beat me to the punch.”

You couldn’t have turned fast enough. “Excuse me?”

“I was planning on asking you out,” he repeated. He grinned as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “What? Is that so hard to imagine?”

“Only a little,” you said after a long moment. He returned to cooking, to focusing on something other than you at that moment, and you got a chance to stare at him. It made you think of the little things that had happened between the two of you that stood out.

There was one thing that wasn’t history. You remembered it had occurred almost a year into your friendship with the man. Weird things had started happening around town, things that made you question whether or not you wanted to leave your house after dark any more. But this night, you had an emergency, and you needed to trek down to the corner store for toilet tissue. No, it couldn’t wait until morning.

So you bundled up and set out into the winter night, commenting to yourself how bright it was. As you looked up, you realized why. The moon was high and almost full in the sky, the clouds stretching from one horizon to the other, but just thin enough to let the light of the moon travel down. The way the clouds were spread out? You thought the whole sky was the damn moon.

There was a howl, and you paused. Maybe someone was out walking their dog?

Still, you pulled your coat closer and picked up the pace. It was too late for you to be out by yourself, you knew that. So you tried to jog and cursed as your lungs started to burn. The corner store soon appeared and you ducked inside.

“What are ya doin’ out so late?” the clerk asked. He was a kid, about seventeen, that lived in the apartment below yours. You smiled at him and picked up the closest stock of toilet paper you could find. He shook his head. “Right. Duty calls, huh?” He snickered as his own joke. You rolled your eyes. As you fished some cash from your pocket, a hideous snarl cut through the silence. You both turned to the front door.

There was a dog. No, not a dog. Something much larger, almost past your waist, standing there, just watching the two of you. It paced to one end of the sidewalk, then the other, its eyes constantly flickering between yourself and the store clerk.

Speaking of, he swore, “The fuck is that?”

“Maybe it’s someone’s dog,” you offered. You clutched your toilet paper to your chest. You just wanted to get home now. All those reports started to flash through your mind. Wild animal attacks with no idea what kind of animal could have caused such damage; ripping people limb to limb, leaving little behind. This wasn’t good. This was the complete opposite of good, this was very, very bad.

“Look, I’ll call like…animal control. Or the cops. Or something,” the clerk said. He started to reach for the phone. The dog shot up, huge paws slamming so hard against the glass door that it shook. You jumped and backed up against the counter.

“Maybe you shouldn’t move,” you suggested.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the clerk lift his hands, like he was placating the dog. Well, it worked. The dog lowered its front paws to the ground and resumed its pacing.

“The fuck should we do?” the clerk asked.

You swallowed a lump in your throat. What could you do? Sit in the store until dawn? You had work in the morning, and this poor kid’s dad would be worried if his son wasn’t home after closing hours. Maybe book it? But that was out of the question, that dog was huge, it could probably catch you in about three or four paces. Wouldn’t even break a sweat. You were about to turn to ask the clerk if he had any ideas of his own when the door to the back of the store swung open.

Gabriel stood there, shoving the hood of his thick sweatshirt off his head. “What the ever loving fuck is that?” he asked.

The dog responded like you feared it would. It slammed its head into the door, then its paws, snarling and barking and scratching as if it wanted to tear through to you three. The glass cracked under the pressure.

“Bruh,” the clerk breathed, “I don’t think it likes you.”

“What else is new?” Gabriel asked. He looked up at the kid behind the elevated desk. “Look, easiest way is to get to the back and just kinda wait this out. It didn’t seem to know I was here until it saw me. Maybe it can’t smell us.” He seemed to hesitate. “Or something,” he added.

The clerk stared at him in disbelief. Gabe’s shoulders dropped. “Seriously, why would I lie to you about safety from a nasty fuckin’ dog?” he asked. The dog’s barking grew louder. You watched as it barred its teeth and slammed into the door again. Gabe turned away from the door, showing the dog his back. This just seemed to make the beast angrier. “Look will you just go? I’ll be right behind you, hand to God.” He even raised his hand for good measure. The clerk inched around the counter, watching as the dog lowered itself to the ground, snout now pulled in a permanent snarl.

He placed his raised hand on your hip and turned you towards the door. “Go. Right now,” he whispered in your ear. You were quick to follow the clerk to the door. When you looked back, Gabe was watch the dog, unmoving, as if testing it.

It was weird.

Gabriel set a plate of steaming food in front of you and brought you back to the present. “Where’d you go?” he asked softly. You watched him sink into the chair next to you before you shrugged.

“I dunno, honestly. I was just…do you remember that big dog? The one from the store?”

His shoulders tensed. “Yeah?”

“That’s what I was thinking about,” you said. You picked up your silverware with a shrug, “I dunno why. It just kinda came back to me.”

Gabriel shoveled a large bite in his mouth.

The rest of dinner went smoothly, albeit a bit awkward on your end, as you found yourself stuttering and blushing around the man more than you usually did. He helped you with dishes and, with a chaste kiss on the cheek, agreed to pick you up the following evening for something a little more romantic.

You couldn’t wait.

You spent the following day picking up the house, just in case. “Just in case what?” you kept asking, as if denying the urges you felt for the man, denying the situation you hoped the date would end in. You shook your head as you emptied a load of whites into the washer and pressed on. There was a knock on your apartment door. You frowned. “Just a second!” you called. You made sure to close the top of the washer before leaving it behind, just in case the load started and made a mess of the laundry room. Again. You hated the first time you cleaned it up and you did not want a repeat.

Standing on your toes, you struggled to look through the peep hole of your door. Strange, you thought, you couldn’t see anyone standing there. As you pulled away, the knock came again. You scrunched your mouth up in confusion. Hesitantly, you unlocked the door.

It swung inward. Before you could scream, something hit you hard in the face. You were out.

It was quiet when you came to, and dark. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly where you were but, well, you knew you weren't where you should have been. There was a rot in the humid air that made you gag. You rolled onto your side, regret shooting through you in the form of a few broken ribs. Someone appeared in your peripheral.

"Looks like they're awake." The voice was distant. You thought – hoped – you were slipping back into unconsciousness. It couldn’t possibly be coming from so far away, right? Instead, a boot stomped on the ground in front of your face and made you jump. Someone dragged you to your feet.

"Well it's about time," he drawled. This was a different voice, a man, who spoke through a mangled set of teeth in a crooked jaw. You swallowed the bile that had climbed up your throat from the smell of the building. "So what are you to him, eh? Pack mate?” he asked. “Lover?” he dragged the word out like a tease. It earned some amused chuckles from various dark corners of the room. The word physically rolled over your face with the stench of his breath. The bile threatened to bring what little you had had to eat that day with it.

You swallowed it down and released a gasping breath. "What?" you croaked. What were they talking about? Pack mate? Your head spun with more than confusion and a possible concussion. How hard had you fit the floor? The man holding you leaned down until his nose - could you even call it a nose because, honestly, it looked more like a snout - was right in your face. His breath smelled even worse up close and personal, to the point that you imagined your nose hairs wilting away.

"Pack mate," he growled out, "Or lover?" He was not amused with the silence that followed.

You struggled to think. Who could he be talking about that ‘pack mate’ actually made sense? “What do you mean by pack mate?” you whispered. Your head throbbed, your nose hurt. All of the pain that you hadn’t been aware before was starting to seep into your body. Gods, couldn’t they just knock you out again? At least you weren’t feeling any pain when you were unconscious. Or fielding really weird questions from an equally weird looking man and his band of merry misfits. “What do you mean by pack mate?” you asked again. Your voice was stronger this time, albeit a little hoarse. It felt like someone had stuffed cotton down your throat.

The man that had picked you up dropped you just as quickly. You crumbled to the floor, head spinning as pinpricks of light started to shoot across your vision. Great. Just what you needed. A migraine on top of all this nonsense.

“What do you mean by pack mate?” the man parroted. Someone made a confused sound. “Are they for real?” he asked the room. There was a hint of incredulous laughter to his voice. Someone snorted further in the room and the sound echoed.

Someone else stepped up, someone lighter, whose footsteps you couldn’t hear until they were right behind you. They kneeled down over your body and took a deep, long breath in. “Yeah, I’m not smellin’ him on them,” they said.

“We’re not fuckin’ nose blind, ya moron,” the first man said. He rolled you onto your back with his foot and roughly took your chin between his fingers. “Just means he hasn’t taken them to bed yet. But they could be pack mate.”

“But they don’t smell—”

“Do you smell like me, shit stain?!” the first man snapped. The lighter one clicked his jaw together. Your teeth hurt just from the sound. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He looked away from you and dropped your chin.

Your head bounced against the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Can someone just knock me the fuck out again? Please and thank you?” you muttered. The one who had stood above you snickered.

“Hey, they’re pretty funny boss,” he said, “Can we keep ‘em if Reyes don’t come for them?”

It was like the engine in your mind finally turned over. You opened your eyes, squinting up at the lanky man above you. Reyes? As in Gabriel Reyes? What did these guys have to do with him?

“Reyes is gonna fuckin’ come for them, you taint fuck,” Boss Man swore. He patted his pockets and pulled out a beat up carton of cigarettes, one of which he placed between his lips. He didn’t light it. “I ‘member seein’ them together at that store. Reyes couldn’t do shit witha coupla mundane shit stains there, but he was sure scentin’ up the place real good. Markin’ his territory, so to speak,” He nudged your shoulder again, grinning as you locked eyes with him. “And this nice piecea ass was right by his side. They gotta mean somethin’ to him. ‘Specially if he went all that way to pluck them out a fuckin’ corner store.”

You ran your dry tongue over your lips. “What are you talking about?” you asked. It wasn’t the best you could do, but your voice was sounding more like yourself and less like a desert ghost.

Boss Man crouched in front of you, knees cracking at the adjustment, until he planted his butt on the ground. The other men followed suit. Counting the boss, you heard about three others sit down. “We’re talkin’,” he said, a nasty grin splitting his snout in two. You felt the blood drain from your face. There was one set of human teeth in the front of his mouth, and another set of sharper, more ferocious teeth hanging down from his gums above them. “Bonafide shape shifting werewolves,” he answered, “And that mother fuckin’ Alpha piece of shit Gabriel Reyes, that’s what.”

The incredulous laughter that burst from your lips couldn’t be helped. Boss Man’s grin fell and he glared at you.

“Werewolves?” you asked. The giggles started again. “Are you high? This isn’t Twilight o-o-or fucking True Blood okay? Werewolves don’t exist.”

The flat of his boot slammed into your stomach. You felt bile rise in your throat and turned away from him to spit it up. Well, he didn’t appreciate those comments.

“How about you respect yer betters?” he growled. He stood and motioned for the rest to follow. “It’s been a few hours. Thought you said he’d be here by now.”

Shit, your date with Gabe…

“Well, yeah, that’s what we thought—”

He had to realize you were missing by now.

“Then where the fuck is he?!”

Maybe they really are just out of their minds and he went to get the cops.

“Someone, go check outside. That blood shoulda led ‘im here by now.”

Almost as if on cue, the lights went out. You groaned. You did not want to be in a horror movie right now, honestly, you just wanted to go on a date with your attractive friend, was that too much to ask? Well, yeah, the universe didn’t even want you to be unconscious anymore so having a normal date for today must have been out of the question.

“¡Apagando las luces!” The voice echoed, smug, through the building. Someone else made a noise of disgust.

“Was that necessary? Honestly?” This voice had a bit of a drawl to it, not enough to say Deep South, but enough to say southern.

“What? Did I not just turn the lights off? Literally?” the first voice shot back.

“But a quip?”

“You two got us noticed,” said a third voice. This one had a thicker accent you couldn’t place, but you knew it wasn’t from the New Mexico region. None of the voices were Gabe.

The men stood and looked around, two using flash lights they had pulled from their jackets, the rest using their phones. Across the building was the strangest trio you had ever seen. One was a young Asian man, bright green hair styled back out of his face. Another was a shorter Mexican girl, her two toned hair braided over one shoulder. The third had the gaudiest belt buckle you had ever seen. You’d seen a picture of them together in Gabriel’s living room. His adopted kids. Jesse, Sombra, and Genji.

Holy shit.

Was he here?

“Who the fuck are you?” Boss Man drawled.

Sombra hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her light jacket. “We’re the first wave,” she answered.

Boss Man growled. His grip on the flashlight tightened. “Ta what?” he snapped.

Jesse tipped the brim of his cowboy hat down and motioned to the opposite side of the building. “To him,” he answered.

All of the men whirled. You twisted around to see Gabriel filling the doorway. Someone whistled for your attention. You looked back to the trio. They had crossed the room to kneel by your side. Genji had whistled. “You might want to look away for this,” he said. There was a snarl. You would have looked back to see what it was if Sombra hadn’t hauled you to your feet. Jesse scooped you onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“And we’re outta here,” he cheered. Sombra led the way, weaving between boxes you hadn’t noticed, to a window high up in the wall. There were more snarls and the ripping of flesh. You tried to look, to see what was happening, but the angle that Jesse was carrying you at made it impossible.

Then there was the screaming.

Somba and Genji had climbed through the window first. Jesse set your feet on the ground. You took the chance to turn. Through the dark you were able to make out the faintest of shapes. Or, shape. A vaguely human and terrifyingly large shape. One that was ripping apart other vaguely human and terrifyingly large shapes as easily as one would rip clay apart. Jesse placed a hand on your head to help you through the window, gently telling you to ‘mind your head’ as you ducked under a broken pane. They steadied you as Jesse followed you out.

“Are you okay?!”

You were able to turn this time. Gabriel was rounding the corner of the building, a little worse for wear, but at least in one piece. Sombra clicked her tongue next to you. “You showed them what for, ‘ey, jefe?”

“You still have not explained to me what ‘heh-feh’ is, Sombra,” Genji said quietly. She patted his arm, mumbling about how they’d have to teach him some Spanish.

As they spoke, Gabriel had stalked towards you, hands reaching for you, but he stopped. Hesitated. Then, he rubbed his shoulder. “Let’s get you home,” he said softly. He held out an arm and you stepped into him.

It was like your energy drained out of you in that one step. Everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes zoomed through your head and formed into the solid, very real word of ‘werewolf’. Your vision tunneled. Gabriel was quick to scoop you into his arms. He smelled like sweat and trash rot. He must have fallen into it.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered in your ear. He nudged his chin against your cheek. You closed your eyes.

You weren’t? Appreciating? How much you time you were spending unconscious today? Of course, you didn’t know how much time you were actually out, only that you had been out of it twice and you couldn’t stand the thought of it? You opened your eyes to find yourself staring at your living room ceiling. Someone was cooking, and there was a conversation happening in your kitchen. It fell silent and, as quietly as they could, some people left your apartment. You sat up. Gabriel was hesitating by the door.

“Gabe?” you asked. He turned to you, a nervous smile on his face.

“Glad to see you’re up,” he stated. He padded over to you. “I’ve got somethin’ cookin’ for you, if you’re hungry.”

You mumbled a thank you and rubbed your face with a heavy sigh. “What time is it?” you asked.

“Just after midnight.”

Gods, at least six hours of your day were gone. What had happened during that time? You looked up at Gabe through your fingers. He had perched on the edge of your coffee table, running his hands through his hair. “There’s some explainin’ I gotta do,” he admitted.

You nodded in agreement. “A lot,” you emphasized.

His shoulders sagged. “Where should I start?” Gabe mumbled, more to himself than to you. He decided the beginning worked, after a sarcastic, mildly scalding comment from you. He told you had been born into a pack, that Jesse, Sombra, and Genji were strays from packs that had pushed them out. That, no, it doesn’t work by bites or scratches like the movies. At least, not that he’s ever seen or heard of. That he can control when he turns most of the time, but during the period of the full moon, it gets a little harder. It at least explained why he would be so scarce during those times. He even took a moment to explain that he was hesitant about asking you to dinner all because of what he was.

You stayed quiet.

He whispered your name. You looked up. “Ya gonna say anything?” he tried. You looked down at your hands. “I’m gonna take that as a no,” he mumbled. Gabriel relaxed back on your couch. You pulled your knees to your chest. “I’m sure you probably don’t want much to do with me at the moment.”

“I don’t really know what to say, actually,” you replied, “But I don’t know what I would do if you just left right now. Especially after all that.” He didn’t have to ask what ‘all that’ entailed. He lifted an arm from his side, motioning for you to come closer. You crawled along the couch to press into his side.

“Look,” he breathed, “I’m not…gonna ask you to take this all in one sitting. It’s a lot if you don’t know what’s going on.”

“That’s an understatement,” you commented. Gabriel looked down at you in amusement, a smile forming when he met your gaze. “But…”

He squeezed you against his side and pressed a soft kiss to your head. “But nothing,” he whispered. “I appreciate you even taking the time to listen to me. And not freak out.”

You slid your arms around his waist as comfortably as you could. “I think it helped that I didn’t see anything that happened,” you said into his chest. He squeezed you again. “Are you okay with staying the night?”

“You would have to kill me and drag my dead ass out to get me to leave this couch right now,” he declared. You laughed. He was being sweet. It was nice. “What, I’m serious,” Gabriel added. He looked down at you, his hand sliding up and down your back. “Are you doing okay?” he asked again.

You weren’t really sure how to answer. What was ‘okay’ at the moment? “I’m not sure,” you said after a long paused, “I’m not really sure I feel anything right now.”

Gabriel relaxed back into the arm of the couch, pulling you with him. “Yeah, I know the feeling,” he sighed. You looked up at him. “Okay, maybe not exactly.”

“Mhmm.”

“But, I know something similar…ish,” he said. He continued to rub your back. He started to tell you about old stories from his pack, one his mom had told him when he was a pup, but you couldn’t say that you heard them all. As his voice started to rumble in his chest, you started to drift off to sleep. You didn’t wake up until the late morning when someone knocked on your door. Both Gabriel and you jumped, but he was quicker to untangle himself from you and get to the door. He didn’t even look through the peep hole, just pulled it open.

“Why am I not surprised you stayed the night?” It was Jesse. He was dressed differently, more casually actually, and both Genji and Sombra stood behind him. Sombra was holding a bag, and Genji had one of those cardboard cup carriers that was filled with drinks. Gabriel rolled his eyes and stepped back.

“How about everyone stops bothering the old man, yeah?” Gabriel grumbled. Jesse led the way inside.

“But that’s not fun,” Sombra pointed out.

Genji held the cup carrier out to you, motioning to one that had your initials scribbled across the top. “Did he ask you to dinner yet?” he asked as you took the drink, “He was supposed to do that a while ago. I have a bet that he isn’t going to, but if he did, that’s okay too.”

You flushed at the statement and smiled around your straw. It was nice to have a conversation that was somewhat normal. It helped to get your mind off of what had happened.

Sombra cut in before you could answer, “They asked him out first. The other day.”

“How do you know?” Genji asked with a pout.

Sombra shrugged. “I’m good with my fingers,” she said as she wiggled them.

Behind you, Jesse groaned, “Reyes can’t keep good news off his twitter. Like some weird teenager or somethin.”

You laughed. Sombra and Genji joined you. Gabriel snagged the bag from Sombra, grumbling, “Didn’t I just say to stop bothering me?”

As they talked, Sombra nudged you. “I’m guessing you took it well enough,” she murmured, crossing her arms. Your smile fell and you stared at the top of your cup. “Maybe,” she added. She watched your face.

“It’s all just a little confusing to me,” you finally answered, “I just can’t believe that all of this was existing right under my nose.”

That got her to snort and look away, as if amused. “You’d be surprised at what all can exist under your nose,” she said. When she looked back at you, however, her expression fell. Those were not the right words to say. “I mean, there’s a lot out there,” she tried, “So you can’t know everything.”

“I know,” you mumbled. You sat back with your drink, sighing to yourself. It was a hard thing to process, the whole werewolf thing. But it made sense, in a way. If you thought back, Gabriel was never really available during the full moon (though, it was hard to really remember when the full moon was), and there were times during the month that you thought he was a little more aggressive and sensitive than normal. You had teased him about it more than a few times, but that never really got the reaction you were hoping for.

The thing you most thought about was that dog at the corner store, the huge one that was trying to force its way into the building. It was fine until Gabriel showed up. As fine as a huge dog trying to headbutt its way into a building can be. It must have had to do with the whole werewolf thing…maybe…

“He was scared, you know,” Sombra interrupted your thoughts, taking the seat next to you. “He showed up here and saw your door open. Called us for help. He was on the brink of tearing this place apart because he was frantic.” She took a long drink from her cup and turned to you. “Even if you’re just his friend? You mean a lot to him.” She gave you a grin that was all teeth and a little intimidating. “Don’t worry if you can’t deal with this. The supernatural? It ain’t for everyone.” She stood then, leaving you without letting you speak.

You watched Gabriel then. He was struggling to get the three of them out of your apartment, or at least towards the door so they could take the hint and leave. Jesse was being stubborn about it, but Genji was already waiting out in the hall with Sombra. When he got close enough, the two grabbed Jesse and hauled him out. Gabriel slammed the door shut behind them.

“That was more of an ordeal that I wanted,” he mumbled. He looked over at you and his shoulders hunched around his ears. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you replied. You patted the seat next to you. “Come on. Tell me more about this whole thing. I wanna make sure I’m not missing any information about it.” He padded over and lowered himself to the couch with a soft ‘are you sure’ in your ear. You smiled up at him. “I’m sure.”

So he started. He carefully showed you the smallest things he could do, once you promised not to cringe. Though, that promise didn’t do much when his jaw popped to accommodate another set of teeth. You had shuddered, looked away, and covered your mouth.

“Ugh, it’s like when double jointed people do that thing with their arms!” you exclaimed. Gabe laughed at the comment. You felt sharper nails creep up and down your back in an attempt at comfort. You peeked over at him. The same old kissable face had returned. “No more doing that thing with your mouth,” you said. His eyebrows shot up and down at the suggestive implications of your words. Moving your cup into your other hand, you gently slugged his shoulder. “And don’t be dirty!” you cried.

Gabe howled with laughter. You couldn’t help the pout that followed. He tried to speak, wheezed, and tried again, “I’ll keep the innuendos to a minimum tonight.” The words sobered you up.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, I mean…if it’s okay if I stay again,” he said. His laughter subsided. “I dunno whose pack those guys belonged to. But, it’d just make me feel better to know you’re okay. For sure.”

You leaned back into your couch, absently thinking about how you were wearing a spot into it, and sighed. “Generally, dinner comes before sleeping over,” you commented.

“Technically, this would be the second night I’ve slept over, so that ship has sailed,” he pointed out. He watched as your face contorted in frustration. Hesitantly, he reached out to brush his fingers over your cheek. “I’ll make an exception, though. Take you out tomorrow.”

“Oh you’ll make the exception, huh?” you teased. Your hands were tense around your cup as Gabriel moved closer to you. “It’s my place you’re staying at. Maybe I should be making the exception?”

He snorted and removed his hand.

You swore to yourself. Moment ruined. Way to go.

“Fine.” Clearing his throat, he placed his hand over his heart and closed his eyes. “Are you in agreement with the terms I have set out before you, my liege?” His voice had taken on an accent you couldn’t place but made you laugh. He lifted his hand to you, palm up, and you couldn’t help but notice that the sharp nails that had been there were now gone. He wanted to be human for you. Normal. All to make you more comfortable.

You placed your hand in his. “I believe I am, good sir,” you replied. He tugged you close.

#espresso shots #miloredboy #overwatch #gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes x reader #reaper #you can be the king but watch the que conquer

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rough-tweed-action · 7 years ago

Note

🔥 about tjlc and the tinfoil hat conspiracists

This is a tough one. I'm guessing my opinion (why are they doing this to themselves?) is actually a popular one. So, an unpopular opinion about these people, hmm.

Have you seen Rowan Atkinson's sketch about Toby the Devil? He welcomes souls to hell and divides them into groups: murderers, thieves, French and lastly, Christians. 'Christians? Ah yes, I’m sorry, I’m afraid the Jews were right.' Apart from being hilarious, it makes me wonder: what if we, the non-johnlockers, are wrong and they are right? What if everything I think I know about Sherlock is wrong because I'm a straight, adult woman and judging from the post-TFP dramatic posts, the majority of the cult consists of gay youth. What if BBC Sherlock really is a romantic story and I saw none of that because I'm biased?

What if they were rightfully angry after series 4? I mean, from what I heard, they predicted TAB's content pretty well. Maybe they aren't as delusional as we think. Maybe they were, in fact, portrayed on the show not only as the First TJCLer Hudders but also as the league of furies. Maybe today's gay youth needs more recognition than suffragettes. I don't know.

What if Mofftiss did betray them? What if they intentionally made Sherlock gay and John bi to attract the attention of gay fans? What if they wanted to give them the kiss, but the BBC didn't let them?What if Mark Gatiss, who seems like a lovely person, is actually the evil incarnate and a homophobic, cruel gay who likes to torment people like him? How can I tell? I don't know him. What if Mofftiss are lying liars who lie about lying about lying about lying and they really are playing a long game here. Maybe they intentionally made series 4 not gay and hurt the fans only to make the kiss in series 5 sweeter? Who can tell?

Did Gatiss honestly tell gay fans via Mary that it doesn't matter who they really are? Would he do that? Will he and Moffat butcher Dracula and make him not explicitly gay?

What if I, a Sheriarty shipper, completely misinterpreted the Moriarty episodes? What if Sherlock is, in fact, scared of Moriarty and there's no chemistry? Perhaps Sherlock wanted to catch Moriarty to save John and be gay with him? Could the Sheriarty content be just a cynical milkshake to lure the hungry Fannibals to the yard? What if the Sheriarty scene from TAB was not sentimentally and sexually charged? What if Moriarty's motivation was 'if I can't have you, then no one can'? WHAT IF SHERLOCK JUST HAD A GUN IN HIS POCKET AND WASN’T PLEASED TO SEE HIM?

What if Adlock isn't canon? Is Irene's theme really a johnlock theme? The person who deflowered Sherlock, Irene or John? Were Irene's pupils dilated because she was scared? Did she say 'Well I am [gay], look at us both' to prove there was no Adlock, not because saying 'Well I am bisexual' would make no sense? Were all the reminders of Irene meaningless? Do I ship it bc I'm straight? Was I.... straight-baited?

Was it a coincidence that Sherlock said 'I'm you' to Jim and played Irene's theme when asked to play himself? Was the Adlock/Sheriarty mash-up (TAB) unimportant? Is Sherlock actually attracted only to his exact opposite, John boring dull predictable Watson?

What if that Arwel guy is not a funny person who likes elephants and things that glow? What if he taunted the cult with gay elephants all those years? I'm actually surprised to have heard of the Eurus' glass elephant just recently and not from a cult member. Huh. Is the glowing skull a secret sign? What if the billboards from HLV were not a coincidence?

And what if all the small inconsistencies like the disappearing John from the T6T scene with Hopkins are, in fact, important? Look, as a Holmescest shipper, I watched the Unwise, brother mine scene many, many times. Two inconsistencies there.

What if the First TJLCer and John are actually likeable characters? Is John's abusive behaviour excusable bc of sexual frustration and being closeted? Was his awful comment about Mycroft (what goes around comes around) justified? We may never know.

Is johnlock actually a sweet, lovely, vanilla ship, romantic and pure? Despite all the women deceived and used to stop the gossip? It bothers me, actually. Maybe it's because I think that honesty in any relationship is crucial. Did Sherlock and John really flirt with each other in Mary's or Irene's presence? Did John make a decision to marry Mary just to prove he's straight, although he could have just ditch the bitch and make out with his loved-up booooooooooyfriend? Is it ok for a bi-curious person to lie to their straight partner and use them a shield? Should I root for a gay couple who try to get together on the fucking WEDDING RECEPTION in front of the clueless bride? Is this good? Do I find it disgusting and inexcusable bc I'm not gay? Maybe it is a gay fantasy, the opposite of the hetero wish to turn a gay person straight? Mystery.

Is this theory that the true villain of BBC Sherlock is anyone who thinks Sherlock is not gay right? Do I erase an important part of his personality bc I don't want Sherlock the fictional character to be happy the way he should have been from the start? Was ACD inspired by Oscar Wilde and the original Sherlock Holmes was in as gay as Wilde? Did Watson invent Mary Morstan to be safely gay with Holmes?

Is the unaired pilot gay and I can't see it bc I am not? Did Sherlock say that he knew being gay is fine not because John said his 'which is fine' the way I say 'I do like the Germans and I’m not scared of the German nationalism and do not resent them for using the most hideous language in the world, no sir'? Did Sherlock never correct the people who assumed he was John's boyfriend not because he simply didn't care what they thought about him?

What if Mary killed herself to make Sherlock commit suicide? What if Sherlock hated her the whole time and only pretended he liked her, so very convincingly? Did he and John conspire to murder her while she was heavily pregnant and sipped tea in John's chair? Was she the real Moriarty? Did she work for CAM? For Mycroft? Did the homicidal Sherlock and John try to protect her from Ajay because... they wanted to kill her themselves?

Was the Warstan reunion in HLV not sweet and realistic but sinister? Did John threaten her while she was pregnant with his child?

Is the *sigh* M theory true? Moriarty, Mary and Magnussen using Mycroft to destroy johnlock? Because nothing else that universe is more important than these two Brits licking Marmite off the other's prick.

What if our perception of the acronym cult is wrong? Maybe it's not just toxic. Maybe it helps its members embrace their sexuality. Maybe they were just trying to defend themselves? Maybe the only member who needed therapy was one of the leaders? Was it ok for another leader, the one who's still active, to respond to my message by going through my blog and judging the content? Despite my having mentioned twice in the message that I was just curious and had no evil intentions. I'm no expert.

Is the concept of a slow-burn romance (with a huge portion of miscommunication) between John and Sherlock possible? Wouldn't Sherlock just say: 'John, we should kiss, for science!' or John, when Sherlock returned, 'I have missed you so much. Don't ever leave again. Also, I love you, I can say this now.'

Did the suggestion to name the baby Sherlock actually meant 'I wish we have got married, I'd love to be your Sherlock Watson'? Did John the free widower say 'the chance doesn't last forever' and put so much emphasis on the word 'alive' because... I dunno, really.

Does John's 'I am not gay/not Sherlock's boyfriend' mean: 'I'm bisexual and would love to show Sherlock some military discipline'? Wouldn’t bi-John feel comfortable with Hudders, enough to tell her his secret?

Was John's reaction to Mary's death really less emotional than his reaction to Sherlock's suicide?

Was John's WTF when Janine strode out of Sherlock's bedroom jealousy and not the strong feeling that Sherlock either changed overnight or was doing some serious bullshitting?

Is Sherlock’s reaction to Janine and that other female character flirting with him a definite proof that he does not want to offer his virginity to a woman? Even... The Woman?

Was the idea of Warstan bad enough to make Sherlock suicidal on FIVE separate occasions? I counted: the sad, suicidal chips in TEH, the conversation with Sholto through the door, the post-wedding relapse that was NOT for a case, the TAB overdose and the TLD relapse. Dude. Sherlock, son, maybe find a hobby.

Did Mofftiss lose their minds and made not one but TWO 'all in your head' series? Is John dying? Is Sherlock in a coma? Was Eurus real? Is Redbeard a dog? Do I care?

Are Adlock and Smallcroft shippers delusional bc both Holmes brothers are so obviously gay? Is it all right to say that a character's sexual orientation cannot be different from the actor's (but only if the actor is gay)? Does Gatiss have a right to play or create non-gay characters? Is he morally obliged to make every Sherlock character gay? Does he owe anything to the gay community?

What if having your otp work together and raise a kid together is not enough?

WAS THE LAZARUS REAL? I do agree with finalproblem on this particular subject, 100%.

Is Jim Moriarty alive? Is Mary alive? Is Rosie real?

IS FUCKY a real, useable word?

WAS IT HUDDERS WHO SAID 'SOFTER, SHERLOCK' IN TFP??? That old, stoned witch, I knew I shouldn't trust her.

WHAT IF THERE WILL BE A LOST SPECIAL/LOST GAY BAR SCENE/THE KISS AND WE, THE NON-BELIEVERS/CASUAL ANTIS, WILL DIE OF SHOCK AND CHOKE ON OUR HOMOPHOBIA?

WHAT IF IT WAS TWINS???

Seriously, though. Do I think conspiracy theorists are crazy in real life? No. I think I'm fairly normal despite my strong belief that General Sikorski was murdered by the British. I will NEVER accept that it was an accident. Never.

Thank you, that was a journey.

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blatherkatt · 8 years ago

Text

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Prologue 2: Regarding Dave Strider

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Death mention, Heavily implied abuse, mentions of terrorist activity (courtesy of Bro Strider), Dave’s mental gymnastics hard at work; So Many Pesterlogs, Illustrated

FIRST | NEXT

4/13/2009

(Excerpt from a front page newspaper article)

ALTERNIAN EMBASSY UNDER ATTACK

The Alternian embassy in Austin, Texas suffered a bomb strike yesterday. Several casualties have been recorded. […] Several suspects were seen on video, but as of yet none have been arrested. The primary suspect is a man named Derek Strider. Strider was honored as a hero for his actions during the wars between Alternia and Earth. Strider is currently 33 years old, 6’5”, blonde, pale-skinned, frequently seen wearing an orange baseball cap and triangular sunglasses. Police ask anyone with any information on his whereabouts to please call…

08/05/2011

(Post made to a comedy blog maintained anonymously by one Dirk L.)

The Big Bi-Annual Serious Post(tm).

Alright, guys. Sorry to be doing this again, but it’s the anniversary, and I’m fucking desperate. To everyone who’s new enough to this blog to have never witnessed my twice-yearly floundering tribute to futility, buckle the fuck up because we’re in for a wild ride.

Yeah, I know, “you were so cute as a child,” et cetera et cetera. Do me a favor and save the patronizing comments on this particular baby photo and instead turn your attention to the little boy on the left. His name is Dave. When this photo was taken, he was six years old; he’s currently a few months shy of thirteen. Assuming he’s still alive, anyway.

I haven’t seen him in six years. Six years ago today, our father came in the dead of night and kidnapped him.

It’s pretty clear at this point that the police have given up on finding him. I haven’t. I’d have to be a pretty shitty older brother to do that, but unfortunately, there’s not much I can do on my own.

All I’m asking is that if you have any word on him, if you know him, if you’ve seen him, if you ran into him in a fucking supermarket, anything at all, please, please tell me. It’s a long shot, I know, but, shit, maybe this weird fucking blog I run can do some good, right?

Let’s skip the usual fucking around, though. Like I said, it’s been six years. I assure you, none of you are the first one to think of the hilarious joke of leading me on and relentlessly fucking with me. It’s not funny, and I’m not in the mood.

Thanks.

(Chatlog from Pesterchum)

— ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 9:15 PM 08/05/2011 —

EB: hey, you’re the guy who runs that weird blog, right?

TT: I run a number of weird blogs. You’ll have to be more specific.

TT: I don’t post my handle on any of them anymore, though, so I’m a bit confused as to how you got it.

EB: got it from my sister! shes been following you for a little while and said you added her recently

EB: she’s gutsygumshoe!

EB: id message you through the actual blog but i mean i dont have a tumblr haha

TT: Ah, okay.

TT: GG’s pretty cool. Knowing she gave you my handle is at least reassuring in the sense that I don’t have to worry so much about who’s getting my contact info.

TT: Why so keen to talk to me, though? It doesn’t sound like you’ve much interest in the contents of the actual blog.

EB: nah its not a sense of humor i feel like i really get

EB: but thats not the point here its actually really important!

EB: see my sis was talking about that post you made today at dinner

EB: she felt really bad for you i guess but she showed it to me and i think i might know dave!

TT: Ah. We’re doing this, okay.

EB: ???

TT: I hope you’ll excuse me not leaping for joy.

TT: There’s been a lot of false alarms over the years. It’s hard to hope.

EB: i mean that might be for the best

EB: im really not sure myself but a lot of weird stuff matches up

EB: the kid in the picture does look a lot like the dave i know and the number of siblings matches up!

TT: Never said that the little girl was my sister.

EB: oh, isn’t she?

EB: that puts a bit of a damper on things if not, because the sister was something he was a lot more sure of.

TT: Um. What?

EB: i should start from the beginning here shouldnt i haha

EB: sorry im a little nervous! and dave isnt online right now because of course he isnt so i cant double check this stuff with him yet ugh

EB: hes like one of my best friends even though weve only met online

EB: the age matches up too! hes twelve right now and turns 13 in a few months

TT: Hm. A bit coincidental, sure, but Dave isn’t exactly a rare name.

EB: he looks a lot like your dave too though!

EB: here look at this

— ectoBiologist sent a file: socool.jpg —

TT: That is the shittiest photo I’ve ever seen.

EB: ugh yeah sorry

EB: he takes them bad on purpose, hes got a really weird sense of humor

EB: thats honestly the best one i have of him right now :(

TT: I can sort of see what you mean by there being a bit of a resemblance, though.

TT: If I squint and tilt my head really hard, I mean.

EB: yeah ok but i mean im still not at the really important part!

EB: see ive known for a while that he lives with his bro

EB: but like a couple weeks ago he told me something really weird!

TT: We’re pretty sure Dave was kidnapped by our father.

TT: I think I’d know if I was living with him.

EB: thats the thing though! his bro isnt actually his brother

EB: hes daves dad

EB: dave isnt sure why the guy makes him call him bro

EB: he told me though that he feels like he does actually have an older brother

EB: cant remember the older brothers name very well, he thinks it starts with a d?

EB: and he remembers having a sister too, and he was like.

EB: absolutely positive her name was rose

EB: wasn’t sure on her age though, he thought she must’ve been pretty close to his age

EB: but i mean if that girl in that photo isn’t your sister then that kinda throws all this right down the drain

TT: She is.

EB: what?

TT: She is my sister. I was…sorry, it was a reflex. I’m so used to people fucking with me over this, I said that to try and throw you off, but

TT: Fuck, my hands are shaking. I hope you’re serious here.

EB: is all that stuff right then??

TT: Her name’s Rose, and she is our sister, and my name does start with a D.

TT: Is there anything else about him that you can tell me that might help identify him?

EB: um

EB: oh! his birthday’s december 3rd!

TT: I

TT: Jesus Christ

EB: :D

EB: ah fuck there he is hold on

EB: asshole finally got online

EB: im gonna show him that post

TT: I

TT: Yeah, you should

TT: Do that.

TT: I’m

TT: Fuck.

EB: oh my god he is rambling up a storm

EB: ive never seen him this excited gosh

EB: do you wanna talk to him? i can give you his handle

TT: Jesus fucking Christ of course I want to talk to him.

TT: Please.

TT: Fuck.

EB: turntechgodhead!

EB: i gave him yours too

EB: you still there dude?

EB: oh i guess you’re probably talking to him now huh haha

— timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 9:23 PM 08/05/2011 —

TT: Dave?

TG: holy shit

TG: holy shit holy shit i thought i fucking dreamed it all holy shit

TG: im trying to sort all this shit but its all so fucking vague

TG: rose is real though right

TT: She is. You and she are twins.

TG: holy fuck

TG: holy shit im a twin holy fuck

TG: and you too holy shit

TG: i cant fucking remember your name though i dont know whats going on with that

TG: like my brain just decided to pick random details to remember about you all

TG: roses name? sure

TG: the fact that were fucking twins? nope

TG: older brother exists? yeah sure that can stay

TG: his name? hell no

TG: was it dick please tell me its not dick i will throw myself out the fucking window

TT: Dirk, actually.

TG: FUCK

TG: thank fuck im not crazy you guys actually exist jfc

TT: Are you okay?

TG: im the okayest motherfucker this side of the milky way

TG: the fucking siblings i thought i dreamed up actually exists and im talking to one of them

TG: im like if okay took a physical form and that form was the coolest dude who ever fuckin existed

TG: okaying all the fuck over the place

TG: why are you asking thats a weird thing to ask

TT: No, I mean.

TT: Are you…safe, I guess?

TG: uh yeah i guess

TG: this particular motel room doesnt strike me as the cleanest but i mean at least theres no bedbugs this time

TT: You’re in a motel?

TG: yeah weve been moving around a lot lately

TT: I’d imagine so.

TT: According to the news, the old man’s been pretty busy lately.

TG: yyyyyeah

TG: i dont know whats up with that

TG: i mean i know the trolls fuckin invaded us or whatever but i was like a year old when that shit ended

TG: i dunno why he hates them so much

TG: im sure hes got his reasons maybe its all for the best but i kinda want nothing to do with that shit

TT: So you’re not involved in that stuff?

TG: i kinda get the feeling hes building up to dragging me into it but not yet no

TT: Where are you?

TG: didnt get the name of the town but i assume were still in texas

TG: thats where weve been as long as i can remember

TG: excluding the shit i remember from being with you guys

TG: like i guess that might be in texas but the memories dont feel like texas

TG: its a little too you know

TG: not the suns blistering steaming asshole

TG: i mean jesus its fuckin hot here all the time and i swear i have memories of not being miserable from the sun trying to roast us all alive

TT: We’re in upstate New York, actually.

TG: holy shit really

TT: Yeah.

TT: You got really mad once when you found out that there is no literal big apple.

TG: the fuck do you mean once im still pissed

TG: god damn big apple youd expect a place like that to specialize in fuckin aj but no its just a stupid nickname

TG: city of fuckin lies is what it is

TT: Jesus Christ.

TG: sorry except im not

TG: i take my aj fuckin seriously

TT: No, I just

TT: It’s really you, Christ.

TT: This is happening. I’m talking to my baby brother for the first time in six years, and he’s still dorkishly addicted to apple juice.

TG: fuck you aj is the nectar of the gods

TG: shit i gotta go bros back

TT: What? Why?

TG: ill be in touch when i can

TG: bro doesnt want me talking to people online anymore and im not particularly thrilled at the prospect of a strife tonight

TG: see you around

— turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 9:47 PM 08/05/2011 —

TT: Wait, Dave!

TT: Shit.

— timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 10:15 PM 08/05/2011 —

TT: Thank you.

EB: :B

— timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 10:16 PM 08/05/2011 —

08/06/2011

— tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:25 AM 08/06/2011 —

TT: Dave, it’s Rose.

— turntechGodhead is offline! —

TT: Thank you, Pesterchum, for confirming the obvious.

TT: I just wanted to make sure you had my contact information as well.

TT: Dirk said he spoke to you yesterday, and I will confess that I am almost afraid to believe him.

TT: It almost hurts to hope, as cliche as that is to say.

TT: But if it’s true, and this really is you, I look forward to at least being able to talk to you again.

— tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 10:30 AM 08/06/2011 —

— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:14 PM 08/06/2011 —

TG: rose holy shit

TG: ok first off lets talk about that fucking username

TG: what the fuck rose

TG: what the actual fuck

TT: Well, there goes any doubt as to your identity I might have had.

TG: the fucks that supposed to mean

TT: I suppose it means that I’ve missed you.

TT: This feels so surreal. Six years with you gone, and here we are, talking.

TT: And you’re the same as ever, somehow.

TG: excuse me im not the one going on the internet as some octopus in a shrink suit

TG: tentacletherapist what the actual fuck

TT: What kind of name is turntechGodhead, then?

TG: a fuckin awesome one is what

TT: Truly, it demonstrates both your nobility and your humility.

TG: you bet your ass it does

TG: the humblest fuckin guy to ever shock the fuckin world with his sick beats

TG: ill rap you under the table and be super not braggy about it

TG: sounds like a fuckin paradox but im just fuckin cool enough to pull it off

TG: be makin people drop like flies with my dope rhymes

TG: everyone be trippin over this sick beat

TG: some guy at the clubs monocle just popped out and socked him in the face

TG: like hey loser why arent you that fuckin awesome and modest

TT: I’m sorry, there’s a man in a suit and a monocle at this hypothetical club?

TG: well it wasnt a club to start with

TG: just some fancy dudes all bein posh and shit

TG: but i walked in and its a fuckin party now

TG: i didnt even have to start rappin i just set foot in the place and it all lights the fuck up

TG: glowsticks are popping into existence to get the rave going and half the posh dudes immediately start fuckin grinding

TG: and im like yo i only wanted to grab one of your weird sandwiches and leave but yall gotta be like this

TG: cant a guy just go somewhere without the party starting on me

TT: How dreadful it must be, to be such a majestic being!

TG: its a curse i must bear

TG: heavy is the crown

TT: I’m sorry to change the subject to something very strange, but I have an odd favor to ask.

TG: yeah shoot

TT: Your friend, John, provided one of your “ironic selfies” to Dirk to try and confirm your identity to him.

TT: Would it be possible to get one with the irony turned down a few notches?

TT: And possibly minus the shades?

TG: woah what why

TT: It’s…

TT: Our mother misses you too, Dave. She’s been devastated ever since we lost you.

TG: oh

TT: I think it would do her some good to at least know what you look like, now.

TT: The only existing pictures of you we have are so old.

TG: yeah

TG: yeah i can do that hold up

— turntechGodhead sent a file: boringasfuckselfie.jpg —

TT: Thank you.

TT: Here’s a recent picture of myself and Dirk, by the by.

TT: Fair trade.

— tentacleTherapist sent a file: EquallyBoring.jpg —

TG: well shit

TG: dirks hair somehow got even more bullshit anime

TG: i thought i was definitely fucking imagining that part but nope

TT: It is pretty bullshit.

TT: He goes through a lot of hair gel.

TG: hahahaha

TG: rose

TG: rose hey rose

TT: I’m still here, Dave. What is it?

TG: rose were twins

TT: We are, yes.

TG: im still fucking losing it over that okay

TG: bro never fuckin talks about you guys and he got mad at me for asking too much years back so i stopped

TG: but i swear ive always had this feeling like i definitely wasnt an only child and i remembered you strongest

TG: dont tell dirk that but i did

TG: its like

TG: i was so sure i musta dreamed you guys up but youre real and i have a twin im a fuckin twin rose

TT: While I can’t completely relate, as our mother never made any secret of your existence and Dirk remembered you quite clearly, I can at least connect to the surrealism of this experience.

TT: I’m almost afraid I’m going to wake up and be left bereft.

TG: fuck i wanna keep talking but bros gonna be home any minute

TT: Do you need to sign off for the night?

TG: yeah

TG: dont wanna get in trouble

TG: i am pretty much directly disobeying him right now

TT: Any idea when you’ll be able to get online next?

TG: no

TG: ill talk to you whenever im on though

TT: Take care.

TG: you too

TG: miss you like hell

— turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 11:25 PM 08/06/2011 —

12/03/2011

— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:45 PM 12/03/2011 —

— TG sent TT a file: happyfuckignbIRTH.gif —

TT: The sentiment is appreciated, but you’re a day early.

TG: what

TG: but

TG: were twins

TG: its my birthday

TT: Yes, well.

TT: You managed to claw your way into the world thirteen minutes before I did.

TT: And as it just so happens, that thirteen minute period straddled the chiming of midnight.

TT: As such, your birthday is technically the day before mine.

TG: wait im the older twin

TG: holy shit i didnt see that coming

TT: I don’t see how it matters very much.

TG: now listen here you whippersnapper

TT: Hush.

TG: as much as id love to lord it up i really cant talk much

TG: im pretty much just droppin that file and running

TT: Well, before you go.

TT: I’ve no such masterpiece prepared, myself, but.

TT: I hope you’ve had a happy birthday.

TG: eh its been alright i guess

TG: enjoy your early present you lucky motherfucker i gotta go

— turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:47 PM 12/03/2011 —

12/15/2011

— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 11:29 PM 12/15/2011 —

TG: dirk

TG: dude are you there it says youre online but im pretty sure its like

TG: after midnight where you are

TT: About half an hour before, actually.

TG: thank fuck

TT: What’s up?

TG: remember how i said back when we first talked that bro wasnt making me tag along with his fuckin

TG: weird bullshit fight the trolls business

TT: Has that changed?

TG: he made me help him yesterday

TG: im still fuckin shaking i dont know what to do

TG: im sure hes got whatever reasons for doing this shit but i cant

TG: he killed some of them dirk

TG: i watched people die yesterday i dont know what to do

TG: i dont wanna fuckin hurt anyone even if they are aliens

TT: We need to get you the fuck out of there.

TT: Is there any way you can get away from him? I can look up bus schedules, or, shit, hit up the blogs and see if anyone can drive you up here.

TG: dude no

TG: im freakin out but i cant fuckin abandon him hes still family

TT: Dave, he kidnapped you. You realize that, right?

TG: what

TT: He has no legal custody over you.

TG: hes my dad though

TT: He’s a man with no legal rights to your care, who is now actively forcing you to participate in acts of incredible violence against an entire group of people.

TT: That’s fucked up, even if they did technically invade us, once.

TG: dude no its

TG: im fine i just needed to talk to someone and rose is offline

TT: She’s asleep.

TT: I’m not budging on this, though.

TT: You need to get the fuck out of there. He’s going to get you killed.

TG: i can protect my fuckin self thanks

TG: i dont wanna kill anyone but that doesnt mean i cant fight fuck you

TT: That’s not what I meant.

— turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 11:57 PM 12/15/2011 —

05/15/2012

— turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 9:13 PM 05/14/2012 —

TG: hey are you awake

GG: :o

GG: i think i should be asking you that mr night owl!

GG: isnt it like three in the morning where you are?

TG: sleep is for the weak

TG: and for weird girls with medical conditions i guess

GG: hehe

GG: what have you even been up to lately? i havent heard from you in like a week and you talk to me super late!

TG: yeah sorry bros had me busy

TG: doing

TG: stuff

TG: you know what lets not talk about that

TG: as you pointed out it is the asscrack of the morning out here

TG: if im gonna be awake anyway im not spending it talking about that bullshit

GG: has he been running you ragged again? thats awful!

TG: alright fuck well i guess we are talking about it

TG: hes not

TG: putting me at the front of things anymore thank fuck

TG: i think he just gave up on trying to make me do some of the really intense shit at least for now

TG: but hes still expecting me to do shit behind the scenes

TG: cut power

TG: sneak in and unlock doors

TG: shit like that

TG: and hes been watching me like a fuckin hawk i havent been able to get online at all until now so thats why ive been absent

GG: :(

GG: well im glad to hear from you even if it is really late!

TG: yeah

TG: ass o clock or not its nice to fuckin

TG: just talk to someone for a while

TG: dunno why bros gotta be such an asshole i mean i know hes paranoid about us getting caught but its not like the police are gonna have any fuckin idea my shitty pesterchum account is related to the stuff hes doing

TG: like fuck off dude let me talk to my friends

GG: yeah!! >:B

TG: so hey on this latest mission i saw a dude in a fursuit and thought of you

TG: theres no conventions going on right now that im aware of or anything he just decided he was gonna walk around in a fucking animal suit

TG: was the most surreal thing i saw today

TG: and i literally see aliens on a pretty regular fucking basis so thats saying a lot

GG: pfft!

GG: dave i told you i have no interest in fursuits

TG: yeah i know youre too hardcore furry to be able to settle for something like that

TG: you weirdo

GG: says the guy who collects dead things

TG: shut up my dead shit collection is certified off the wall amazing

TG: had an expert in awesome things come by and personally give me the certificate

TG: showed up and went holy shit

TG: thats a rad ass collection of dead shit

TG: heres your certificate let me grovel at your feet

TG: let me bow before its magnificence

GG: lol dave

GG: it is pretty awesome but it is weird too!

GG: the two are not mutually exclusive silly

GG: …dave?

GG: it says you’ve been typing for like twenty minutes now :o

—turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum! —

GG: dave??

GG: are you okay?

GG: did you fall asleep?

GG: thats really cute if you did but you need to be careful!

GG: your bros gonna be really mad if he catches you talking to me

GG: …….he didnt catch you did he?

GG: dave?????

— turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 10:25 PM 05/14/2012 —

GG: oh no

— turntechGodhead [TG] is offline! —

GG: D:

06/23/2012

—timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 3:17 PM 06/23/2012 —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: EB1.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: socool.jpg —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Dirk1.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Dirk2.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Dirk3.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Rose1.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: boringasfuckselfie.jpg —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: EquallyBoring.jpg —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Rose2.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Rose3.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Rose4.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Rose5.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/Rose6.txt —

— timaeusTestified sent a file: TG/GG1.txt —

TT: There’s everything Rose and I have been able to scrounge up between the two of us, plus gardenGnostic’s last conversation with him.

TT: She was the last person to talk to him.

TT: EB and GG are both going to see if they have any other logs saved with him. I can send them to you, or they can send them directly.

TT: They might have more than me or Rose. They’ve both known Dave since he was ten, apparently.

GC: 4LR1GHT

GC: G1V3 M3 4 B1T TO R34D THROUGH TH3S3

GC: 1M GO1NG TO H4V3 TO H4V3 MY COMPUT3R GUY GO 1NTO YOUR 4CCOUNTS TO V3R1FY TH4T TH3S3 4R3 L3G1T

TT: That’s fine.

TT: I mean, I can’t speak for GG or EB, but I don’t have a problem with it.

TT: Are you going to be able to get at the existing police files on him?

TT: This whole business with the old man meant that we couldn’t get the police to take any of this stuff when it was going on. They just said that there was nothing they could do.

TT: Out of their hands, they said.

TT: And apparently the people whose hands it was in didn’t particularly care about Dave’s involvement.

GC: Y34H, MOST OF TH3 TROLLS UP 4T TH3 TOP WH3N 1T COM3S TO 1NT3RSP3C13S CR1M1N4L PROC33D1NGS DONT R34LLY G3T YOUR W31RD HUM4N F4M1LY UN1TS

GC: OR HOW S3R1OUSLY YOU GUYS T4K3 PROT3CT1NG YOUR YOUNG

GC: 1 M34N 1 DONT R34LLY G3T 1T 31TH3R

GC: 1T DO3SNT M4K3 MUCH S3NS3 TO M3

GC: BUT 4T L34ST 1 K33P 1N M1ND TH4T 1T 1S 4CTU4LLY 4 TH1NG

GC: 1 M34N G33Z

GC: SOM3ON3 H3R3 N33DS TO B3 CULTUR4LLY S3NS1T1V3

GC: 4LL JOK1NG 4SID3

GC: DONT YOU WORRY 1 W1LL F1ND 4 W4Y TO G3T 4T THOS3 F1L3S WH3TH3R TH3 H1GH3R UPS W4NT M3 TO OR NOT >:]

TT: Sounds like the legends are true, then.

GC: L3G3NDS?

TT: Word on the street is that you’re something of a bloodhound.

TT: That you don’t give up on a case you’ve taken, no matter how little you have to work with or how bad it gets.

GC: H3H3H3H3H3H3

TT: That’s why I brought this to you.

TT: Everyone else has given up on Dave, it seems.

TT: You’re the best hope we’ve got of finding him, at this point. Thank you for that, by the way.

GC: 1 M34N

GC: DONT G3T M3 WRONG, YOU BROUGHT M3 1NTO TH1S FOR A SP3C1F1C PURPOS3 4ND 1 1NT3ND TO S33 TH4T PURPOS3 THROUGH

GC: BUT MY PR1M4RY GO4L H3R3 IS TO G3T MY B1G BR34K

GC: TH1S 1S 4 R34LLY GOOD 4NGL3 TO H4V3 ON TH3 STR1D3R C4SE

GC: 4ND 1 4M CR4CK1NG 1T OP3N 4ND M4K1NG MY M4RK

TT: Yeah, I know.

TT: I’m not under any sort of illusions here. You’ve got your own ulterior motives for taking this case, especially considering we’re basically paying you on the combined allowances of two literal children.

TT: That doesn’t change the fact that you’re still the first person outside our family to put serious effort into finding Dave in a long time.

TT: Ulterior motives or not,

TT: That’s a really big deal to us.

TT: So, again: Thank you.

GC: >:]

GC: 4LR1GHT TH4TS 3NOUGH B31NG S4PPY

GC: 1 GOT 4 JOB TO DO

GC: 1 W1LL TRY TO K33P YOU POSTED

— gallowsCallibrator [GC] ceased trolling timaeusTestified [TT] —

#homestuck #dave strider #dirk strider #rose lalonde #jade harley #longpost #john egbert #terezi pyrope #fanfic #fanfiction #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #katt does a writing #im not gonna tag every chapter as davekat im gonna save that tag for when its actually relevant from here on out #ok but why have i never written dave before now its so much fun?? he just #RAMBLES

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