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greaterlandscapes · 3 years

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My Dean Blunt Rotation aka High Fidelity Left A Bad Taste in My Mouth

For the past 2 to 3 months, my listening habits were teetering to an end; mostly via burnout by spontaneously listening to local artists daily and less likely of a musical discovery drought, whereas my interests of a certain artist or genre hasn't found its, sort of, "eureka", moment per se. I've been feeling less enthusiastic over the things i listen to since my friends have gradually lost their flare when it comes to discovering/exploring untapped parts of the music realm. Thus, in return, my enthusiasm not being reciprocated. It leaves an empty feeling from someone who has been yearning social interaction, may it be media being latched on the topic - it's a feeling that's been guilt-tripping me ever since I was stranded in the other end of the metro. I feel closed off, exposed to the crippling loneliness the lockdown has punished us: a defacto solitary confinement in a national level. Our act of staying online is also an act of staying alive outside.

To be fair though, it's a valid move to not boomerang compliments/gripes over an art you haven't consumed due to someone's autonomy. Your able body being to consume the art you wish to finish with free time is a luxury in of itself. The art is then failed to serve its purpose to reach its goal: You have squiggly lines heading straight to oblivion rather than swirling in the earlobes of a wandering cyber nomad. We, eventually, need to find something that could help us exit, rather than escape, from capital. We, in return, do not shut ourselves from the outside. Instead, we then tend to avoid the stress of protocols and outdoor fascism; Not avoid the indoor liberalism that is eating us alive and online. It's a capital punishment we never knew we signed up for ever since the onslaught of the virus and the state. Art for art's sake is nonexistent now, always has been, it seizes to ever since we went inside. Feeding off of a holographic meatloaf coming from a glowing screen. We have a real-life Karen acting as a nightlight in our rooms.

The COVID lockdown made us listen to music — both for better, for worse. For one, it made us pass most days. You could say the same for any sort of media: film, mixed media art, or whatever pre-Covid activity that sprung up during our time in isolation. For music, however, there was an uptick of new listeners that made others Wheel-of-Fortune the fuck out of their music discoveries in sites like RateYourMusic, Bandcamp, or even Sophie's Floorboard. We've continued to expand and became more open change of opinions and be less of a jackass towards someone else's opinions. On second thought, our opinions have been catalogued, leaving more notes than actual footprints of our previous listens. Our new discoveries made new bands and re-emerging bands, bands who faded to obscurity, crawl back in the surface with newfound interest from younger listeners (ie Panchiko, Jai Paul, and Dean Blunt) and this glowing, previously unseen and unexpected overwhelming support from fans of departed artists (ie SOPHIE, MF DOOM)

For the other, we've hogged gratuitous amounts of media, resulting into losing our primary direction as to how we want to consume our media based on the preconceived notions of what we want in our art. There is goodness in becoming directionless when you think about it, but there comes a cost to our identity as music listeners. Instead, we end up widening our tangents, falling in endless rabbit holes, having zero chances to emerge from the surface. In fact, i refuse to call it a "rabbit hole" instead i'd rather call it a "pipeline" of sorts — transitioning casual music fans into a full on, different, unique versions of themselves that would define them when laws and protocols have eased in the outside world. Our act of staying online has either made most of us break our character or enliven our past selves. The music pipeline is now more apparent, stretching the norms of what was once alienated by a silent majority, but now accepted as an acceptable form of expression. The more music we are exposed to has made casual listeners stranged out or react in ways that our personality have betrayed us or deemed not as acceptable to them. Still, not changing anything that was prominent pre-pandemic. Liberal cop behavior is stronger, now more dangerous than it ever was once perceived by the outside world.

HIGH FIDELITY? NO, THANK YOU.

Imagine a situation inside of a record, pre-pandemic of course, where you do not feel like lifting a record out from the shelf, instead, you window shop just for the sake of windowshopping. Capital and media made us think that going to record shops is a semi-productive activity. The age of discovery has died ever since High Fidelity romanticized and normalized the incelage of horny record diggers. Does this movie age well, yeah sure it does, for old 90s nerds at least. But did it translate well over in the past 20 or more years of events and tragedies that unfolded in pre-9/11 America? No it didn't. It was an age of free expression, only liberals would dream of whenever they take a sip of Guinness beer in their favorite dive bar.

Mind you, over a couple of months ago, it was my only chance in seeing why this movie was the talk of the town back when it was released. There's music, yeah, and attractive leading leadies, yeah, it has everything a 90s kid would love to salivate and drop their gonads over while they watch this movie. I obviously did not live to see the movie on opening day but i could imagine the scent that came out of that movie theater with attendees donning windbreakers and The Who shirts with popcorn dressing stains on their plastic cups. If there was a Filipino counterpart to this movie, i'd bet corporate champions Eraserheads and Rivermaya would soundtrack their music over and have either Tado or have Boy 2 Quizon, but i sense it to age like milk more than it could age like fine wine due to the senseless jokes one can execute in a Cubao or Cartimar record store.

John Cusack is obviously the incel in question here: a damaged, vengeful ex who constantly fails to live his partner's expectations and weaponizes his personality over the situations that has nothing to do with his interests. I spent the entire time being absolutely disgusted over the spineless responses of John Cusack's leading character. The movie then treads on flashbacks with John Cusack's failed relationships and what he could do to move on from each and one of them. If i could stand a SONA for 3 hours then I can't stand John Cusack being the dull entry point to incel, making more reasons why you should hate record store clerks who don't give an iota of shits to someone's inviting rapport. High Fidelity is opium for massive music circle jerks who can't take a single breathe of fresh air or a single quota of touching grass. There's more targeting weak and inferior guys and hot women who dump dumb overconfident dudebros more than the actual "music recs" in the entire movie. The more I think about this movie, the more I realize how our personality is in line towards Dick, the record store being unmercifully dunked on by the movie's two leading characters. He's an angel in the world of cynical bastards, witnessing both demons pitchforking record store customers in the ass while they're purchasing the latest Sonic Youth album.

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I believe that Jack Black, the dark horse of High Fidelity, has a pleasing personality more than an irritating demeanor due to this behavior in the record store. In fact, outside of the record store, Jack Black doesn't seem to take the business is your pleasure act pretty seriously. Unlike John Cusack's character he brought his obsession over involving a record in an important memory/point of his life. There is so much stuff that has happened outside of the record store, so much for Rolling Stone and NME being the bible of music at the time, endlessly christening and shilling artists that believe to become the second coming of the Beatles. The music references here however are treated as fluff than it is a mechanism that would drive the senseless plot forward. If anything, there are events pointed out in the event that doesn't have anything to do with the life of the characters.

If anything, this movie did a great job at capturing the feeling of music bros being dumped on the wayside by a mature set of characters and how their current conditions aren't perfumed by the studios' liking of having to Cinderella story the shit out of a bunch of normal record store owners. The reality is in the reaction of one's social capital being invaded and we're here to witness how those reactions panned out in 2021. This is a villainous depiction of music nerds being the salt of the earth, the bane of all media discussion, still reflective of the insufferable salt of cyberspace found in music forums like 4chan and RYM. High Fidelity is a pipeline of 90s musicology, a dreaded fever dream of an owner waiting for the decade to end, trends ossifying and re-emerged by the hands of nostalgia-savvy individuals. It was, at its time, every music-movie nerd's excuse equivalent of Scott Pilgrim VS. The World. There are memories worth remembering and cherishing, and this movie isn't one of them.

DEAN BLUNT, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

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In the past two weeks I've been fancying myself into sitting down and listening to different projects from the ever elusive, UK-based sound artist Dean Blunt. The first time i chanced upon his music wasn't too long ago - albeit a recent one in the time of COVID - was when I randomly stumbled upon his records at a Spotify recommendations section under John Maus (yeah lol i know the implications whenever his name is mentioned) - but then i was enamored by his online presence so quickly I put everything down and dedicated an hour or two researching about this man's music.

Other than the fact that his album "The Redeemer" wasn't the best record to start off in journeying through his discography: ending up disgusted and borderline bored even and I was more likely to lambast this record's aimless, pretentious art-pop inflections. By the end of the day, it was a preference long solidified by his undying fanbase. According to his hardcore fans, the music isn't really music, evaluating it as a free form of sound art, rather than sticking to a structured and conventional cues; the genre is nullified by most analysts of the arts. The growing interest of the general public towards Dean Blunt's pranks and antics have long appealed to my tastes as a chaotic neutral individual. Pranks that are well executed to piss off UK gallery connoisseurs and entertain ironic attendees who'd shit on the art piece rather than participate in it.

More of the resources I've found about Dean Blunt online: numerous aliases and collaborations that lasted around almost 2 decades. The most notable of all them, at least for my money, are either Hype Williams, a duo consisting of Dean and frequent collaborator Inga Copeland, and Babyfather, an art performance parodizing the pirate radio culture in the UK. I have not delved enough in Blunt's body of work to evaluate everything and what i could synthesize from it. For now, I enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. Well, color me impressed because Dean Blunt isn't clowning around, he, in fact, makes blissful and transcendental music from left to right.

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Dean Blunt was the only few artists that made me want to binge on their discography. His movements in his music has attracted this pesky listener who thinks that being mysterious is a plus. I mean, look at me who thinks The Paul Institute, Panchiko, and Burial are the greatest artists that have walked the face of the earth.

The most I've enjoyed from Dean Blunt's discography are his mixtapes and collaborations: preferably his Soul Fire and ZUSHI, both of which were packaged as B-sides or supplemental releases rather than major releases such as the Babyfather project or the Black Metal releases. His knack for blurring the lines between genres still fascinate me as of this writing, and it continues to amaze me how he doesn't seize to compromise his art, he's here to prove a point and it sells quite well despite the lack of direction in his music. Blunt's music has more aggressive and hazy texture than the hollow, wide, soulless structure of art-pop/hypnagogic pop released today. He creates terrains from the rubble of his country's current shortcomings. The music overlaps the actual intentions with abstract concepts, becoming deconstructed down the line. In Babyfather, noise music coincides with Blunt's amateurish rapping. In Black Metal, Blunt isolates himself along with the assisted skeletal guitar playing. Both projects throwing all tropes in a vaccum alongside Blunt, who he himself would sought to become a personification of a musical void.

(Excerpt from the Babyfather album review in TinyMixtapes)

Dean Blunt is an entity that wishes to become one person, but no, this isn't a figure in a specific art form; this isn't Banksy, this isn't Bob Ong, this is made by one person, clearly it is if you listen closely, and it's been entrancing me ever since his presence was felt on the horizons of the internet. Dean Blunt, what the actual fuck.

#dean blunt #high fidelity #music #film #music review #2021 #hype williams #Youtube

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Women are Space Orcs

Alright ever one, been pretty excited to give you this one. I have a few female characters, including Sunny, that I thought deserve a little love. Plus I wanted to explore the dynamic between Sunny and other members of the crew.

Its just supposed to be a fun little adventure, so nothing philosophical or anything :)

Sunny walked beside Adam as he paced through the cargo bay checking off shipping manifests on his clipboard, checking and rechecking the equipment they would need for re-supply. They had stopped on the Tesraki home world for a much-needed rest and some recuperation. They would be here a couple days, so shore leave was in order for a night or two, a prospect the entire group was excited about considering what the Tesraki home world had become.

If the Tesraki and humans had one thing in common, it was their desire for a good time. It had probably been a horrible idea to introduce the Tesraki to the idea of gambling and casinos. Honestly it had probably been a bad idea to introduce the Tesraki to capitalism as it was, since they took to the idea like fish to water, but mistakes had been made and there was no turning back.

On the coattails of that debacle, the Tesraki;s home world had quickly transformed itself into the Vegas of the galaxy knowing, in true business fashion, that humans couldn’t resist debauchery and a good time. The sheer amount of revenue and inherent benefits that had come to them simply by way of human tourism had been astonishing, raising their planetary gross income to 7% more than any other planet in the GA system.

Commander Vir paused beside another pallet of cargo.

“Hey, SUNNY! SUNNY!.”

Sunny Turned her head in a wide arc searching for the voice and found a group of women standing next to one of the shuttle doors, each waving at her. She left Commander Vir out of curiosity and walked over.

Dr. Katie was there with a few women from engineering and a couple female marines. Maverick, a short female marine with buzzed blond hair and grey blue eyes greeted Sunny with a wolfish grin. “‘Bout time. I’ve been yelling at you for half a minute.” Sunny looked around the circle. It was strange seeing the marines in anything other than their usual uniforms. Maverick was wearing camouflage cargo pants, a black tank top and a pair of blue tinted sunglasses perched atop her short blond hair. Dr. Katie wore a form fitting black dress and pointy red shoes. Another marine had her warm strawberry blond hair curled down past her shoulders.

“Where are you guys going?” Sunny wondered.

“Out on the town, where else. A couple of us decided to get together and go get wasted, or whatever trouble we can get into, maybe lose some money. We don’t know, yet.”

Sunny glanced back towards where the Commander was standing, still going through inventory. “Oh, well I don’t know if we were-”

“Oh come on, the two of you hang out all the time. I think it’s about time you got out more, besides we’re prettier.” The group laughed. Dr Katie flipped her hair and grinned at Maverick, “Well, except for Maverick, but we had to have an ugly one to make the rest of us look better.”

Maverick snorted and waved a hand, “Are you kidding me?” She motioned seductively, “Nothing can top ‘this’.”

“A sack of lard,” more laughter.

“Keep laughing ladies. You’re just jealous of my stunning physique. As I was saying though, seriously Sunny, you need to get out. The Commander has work to get done anyway and he's going to be boring for the next 48 hours.”

Sunny wavered on the edge of indecision as a pair of boots thudded on the ground next to her.

“What are you jackals trying to get sunny into?”

Katie linked an arm through one of Sunny’s, “Girls night, and YOU aren’t invited.”

“Yeah only women or those who identify as such are allowed’” one of the engineers piped up from the back.

Commander Vir snorted, “Y’all better be glad I don’t identify as a woman,”striking a quick pose and flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder, “because I’d be the prettiest.”

“Yes, a beautiful monkey, sir.”

Jackie tilted her head, “You know, now that I think about it probably not the prettiest, or the smartest, or even the strongest. Bet Mav could crush you with her thighs if she wanted to, pop your head like a melon.”

He raised an eyebrow, “As fun as THAT sounds, I am afraid you might be right. You all are too much for my delicate sensibilities. I was actually coming over here to give you the pre-leave lecture.” He cleared his throat, “Don’t get pregnant, don't get anyone pregnant, don’t sell your body for money, don’t accept drinks from strangers, any bail, ransom, or parking tickets will be paid out of your monthly wages. Keep all debauchery, drunkenness, fighting and gambling to a minimum, and please for the love of Jupiter, try not to kill anyone.”

“Yes sir, I will try very hard not to get anyone pregnant,” there was laughter about the group.

The commander raised a hand, “It is 4023, so I am SURE you could find a way.”

“What if I get kidnapped Commander, can I hurt them then?”

“You wouldn’t need to hurt them Jackie. They would bring you back and I would make them pay ME ransom to take you back,” he tucked the clipboard under his arm and looked at Sunny. “Good luck with this group. Don’t die, and don’t kill anyone.”

She hadn’t exactly decided to go with them just yet, but it appeared as if that decision had been made for her. She waved a hand at the Commander who turned back to his earlier duties as the group of marines, engineers and one doctor stepped their way into the small shuttle. The strawberry blonde CJ was a passable pilot and took them down through the clouds with a loud whoop. Sunny’s stomach flew into her face reminding her rather unpleasantly of what she had had for breakfast.

Mav sat next to Katie opposite and over the roaring of entrance into the atmosphere Sunny heard bits of conversation. “I hate it when people assume that you have to choose one or the other. It’s the 41st century, if I want to play with big guns and explosives AND get my nails done afterwards, I am going to damn well do it. You’d have to be stupid to turn down either option, so I say, best of both worlds.”

Katie raised an eyebrow.

The way the light cut across Mavrick’s arms and shoulders made it pretty clear she spent a good portion of her time at the gym.

Dr. Katie through a strand of hair over her shoulder, “Ok, yes I agree, but also at least be careful when you do that sort of thing. I have been a doctor long enough to know what degloving skin looks like, and yes it is exactly how it sounds. So please for the love of all that is holy BE CAREFUL. Personally, just give me a good book and a bag of chips and I’m set for the afternoon.”

“What genre?”

“Meh, whatever strikes my fancy. Mostly fantasy if I am being honest, sometimes romance hits the spot, but other times I can do for a western. It just depends on the day.”

Sunny tilted her head, listening intently. While she had spent a lot of time with the marines, she had never actually gotten to know them on a personal level and she barely knew the name of the women from the engineering and science departments.

If she was being honest, she didn’t really have much of a relationship with anyone, especially not women.

She never really had, considering her history with her mother.

She grew up spending most of her time with her brother and her father and eventually she had become such good friends with Adam that she had become rather short sighted with her other options aboard the crew. To be honest though, it didn’t much matter on her home world, so she couldn't imagine that it would be much different here.

She couldn’t help but pipe in on the subject of weapons which turned into good natured banter between her and Mav who had some pretty strong opinions about the nature of projectile vs energy weapons. Though when it came to other subjects, she was a bit lost. The humans were an interesting race in that they enjoyed both their war and their relaxation in equal measure, so the topics they were discussing went heavily over Sunny’s head.

She got involved in a couple of conversations she probably could have done without. Humans were gross no matter which group of them you talked to. The only difference was this group of humans was more willing to share

The discussion on how to properly scratch a nipple in public was followed by a debate that included but was not limited to scratching in other unmentionable places, random overgrown hairs, body fluids, body smells and on and on.

Sunny turned the conversation back to music, something she was comfortable with. Mav liked punk, alternative, and hard rock, Dr. Katie was ok with anything as long as it was catchy. Jackie, the engineer, had a thing for country music, and CJ was some strange mix between classical and R&B it just depended on the day. The other women chimed in with their favorites and soon all genres were accounted for.

They were all laughing about something by the time they hit planet side and Sunny stepped from the shuttle, eyes wide as she turned in a circle talking in the bright neon lights and a million billboards shamelessly advertising for human tourists. Billboards hundreds of feet across showing pictures of half-naked models, both men and women, rose high into the sky.

The one sad thing about the future was that it hadn’t stopped the objectification of the human body, but had simply equalized the amount of objectification between the sexes, men and women in equal measure, because it was always easier to sell a product when you were really just selling sex instead.

The Terasaki certainly had no moral qualms about doing it either. It wasn’t their species after all.

CJ clapped her hands together throwing her strawberry blond curls over one shoulder, “Alright, we need a game plan.”

Mav eyed one of the billboards, “How about we start there?” she pointed.

The group of them turned to find an advertisement for nightly ring fighting, “It’s just like what I was saying, gotta go see someone get fucked up before I get my nails done, that's just how things should be. Plus twenty bucks says there will be alcohol for those of you who are less interested.” “Hey, I am down for anything as long as I get a massage later.”

Mav nodded, “Deal, I get to watch someone get the snot beaten out of them and you can get wasted. Everyone wins.” Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected, but she liked what she got. Sunny, Mav and CJ got seats just outside the ring while Jackie, Katie and a few others stormed the bar. Turns out CJ had a thing for yelling at the referee. Mav didn’t care what happened just as long as someone was getting punched in the face and Sunny, well Sunny loved it yelling and screaming with the rest of the humans as Drev and Humans alike beat the pulp out of each other.

Halfway through the night Sunny was interrupted

“Hey,, HEY, Scarab.” Sunny turned around to find a large human looking at her from the aisle, “Why don’t you go stand with the rest of the Drev. I reserved these seats.”

Sunny looked down at him, “Uh ... yeah, there’s room.”

“Let me talk slow since you don’t seem to speak good human, but you’re big and I don’t want your arms getting in the way of my view so why don’t you get lost.”

Sunny was ready to ignore him, but before she knew what was going on Mav and CJ were standing in front of her arms crossed, “The hell you say, you DON’T talk to our friend, bitch.”

The guy looked a bit nonplussed, but straightened himself up, “I told her to go sit with the other Drev.”

“I didn’t know these seats were segregated.” Mav shot back, “but if that’s the case, I think idiots are seated on the other side.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I’m not. Now either you can back up, or I can back you up.” Mav was right in his face now, but CJ put a hand on her arm warningly. It was human culture that the first person who threw a punch, whether man or woman, was opening up to a fair beating.

Sunny stood from her seat looming a good foot to two over her short companions glowering down at the man. She didn’t say anything. The man backed up a few steps.

“Aww….. little bitch gonna cry to mommie,” Mav taunted, much to the chagrin of CJ.

The guy’s face turn beet red, “If you weren’t-.”

“Here let me finish-”

CJ grabbed Mav by the arm and pushed her back to her seat, “Down Mav.” She turned her eyes back to the guy “Look Imma make this as clear as I can. We aren't moving, so either you get over it and take a seat or you get the hell out. Pick your poison.”

The guy took his seat and shut up. Sunny couldn’t help making a point to step in front of him a few times blocking his view with her bulk. Mav got a kick out of her pettiness, but eventually they left to find Jackie, Katie and the others at the bar. Just a few drinks in and already they were coming up with stupid dance moves.

Grabbing them, they moved out of the bar and onto the street. It was leaning towards late evening, but managed to get themselves checked into a nice little spa hunched between two buildings, a bit out of the way and pushed back from the rest of civilization. Everything going on here was pretty foreign to Sunny.

The Drev had nothing comparable in their culture to this practice, and she watched in confusion as the other humans took their seats at strange tables. Mav was “getting her nails done,” pointing out that there was nothing better than a hand massage and anyone who disagreed could go right ahead and fight her. Katie had her feet soaking in a pool of hot water, while Jackie lay on her stomach on a strange flat table towel wrapped around her curly dark hair obscuring her face while her dark skin shone in the delicate white light overhead.

Water trickled somewhere in the distance, and the entire room was done in shades of white and pastel giving it a very un-Drev aesthetic.

It was an extreme 180 from the earlier venue and Sunny wasn’t entirely sure how to behave.

Eventually, someone came to her rescue as she was ordered to take a seat and relax by CJ, who determined she was in for a treat. Sunny had to admit the warm towel around her neck was nice and she hummed softly as her feet soaked in a pool of water. The human that walked in looked a little surprised to see her, but shrugged and got to work. It took a little more elbow grease to get through Sunny’s tough hyde, but when they managed it Sunny had to admit it was probably the best feeling she had ever experienced… in pretty much ever.

Mav snickered, snapping a picture of the big blue Drev, face covered in a green mask, cucumbers over her eyes, sprawled in a chair as one person messaged her huge neck muscles, one worked on the claws of her left upper hand, and another knelt at her feet.

Sunny was quite displeased when her time was up. She needed about an hour more work on her shoulder muscles and at least another ten minutes on each of her hands, but her time was up so they paid, leaving just as a few familiar faces walked in. Another group of tipsy marines, who made it very clear that they intended to get their feet done while they were here, were filing in.

Sunny found the image somewhat amusing, but was glad to see they were having fun and agreed with their decision. She had a new favorite pastime now and understood why they had chosen it.

With that amazing ritual behind them, they went out to eat. The humans ordered a round of drinks and Sunny asked for some water, not actually capable of getting drunk in the same way that humans did. The berries and fruit that her species ate were often fermented when preserved, giving her species an extreme tolerance to ethanol such that it wasn’t even worth trying to get drunk since you would likely die of heightened liquid consumption before actually reaching the point of intoxication.

Humans on the other hand reached that threshold pretty quick. A few of them were a bit closer, having consumed a few drinks earlier in the day and were not yet totally down from that high. As the night grew on the conversation got louder, and much more interesting.

Dr. Katie raised her hands, “ok ok… you wanted to hear it so I’ll give it to you. I’ve worked in the ER for fifteen years plus trauma centers and other level one clinics and there is NOTHING I haven't seen, and I mean nothing.”

“Worst story,” Mav urged.

“No…. no, no, no, not at the dinner table,” begged one of the ladies.

Katie took a drink, “There was this one time I come into a room to check on a patient, and there is this guy with real shifty eyes and he can’t stop squirming. Real professional looking type right, so immediately I know he’s got something crammed up his ass.” The table burst into a fit of giggling. “So I go up to him and I ask him what’s wrong and he hems and haws and he's all like ‘Doc, I have some intestinal pain, a stomach ache,’ you know because of the thing he's got jammed in his ass.” More giggling. “So of course I ask him all the usual questions, where is the pain, is it something he ate, how long has this been going on, you know and the entire time I am just trying to figure out what he's got up there, because I KNOW he's got something up there, but of course he won’t admit it. We go around like this for like twenty minutes, right, and eventually I am just like send him down to radiology. If this guy won't give me a straight answer, I bet an X-ray will.” Sunny shook her head. “Low and behold, the x ray comes back and what does this guy have spelunking in his insides? None other than… a Barbie doll.”

“No!”

“Yes, and he had thought about this, like, he had tied her arms down to her sides with rubber bands to make sure they stayed in place. So I go back in there, I look at him and I show him the X-rax and of course he plays it like I’m a moron. ‘Well doctor, I was cleaning my kids playroom, naked,’ as you do, ‘and I slipped and fell.’” Maverick snorted into her drink. “And of course I am like yeah sure, but why didn’t you tell me that when you came in, and you know what this sucker does? He Looks me dead in the eye and goes…I forgot.”

The table erupted into laughter. CJ laughed and wiped her face with a napkin, “Now hold on, I got one. It was in boot camp.”

Mav rolled her eyes, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes, some of the guys had been clearing an abandoned hotel, as part of our training. I wasn't there at the time, but I guess while they were looking around they find this nine inch, monstrous rubber dong stuck to one of the walls. So of course they laugh it off right, and go back to what they were doing. Well, when they come back later, it isn’t there. Kind of weird, but whatever. At least whatever until this thing starts SHOWING UP around barracks. Like our Sergeant walks in one morning to do an inspection and we had all just gotten up right, so none of us were paying attention. She starts yelling at us like she does and then goes all quiet. She tilts her head one way and then the other. I swear I have never seen someone look so confused in their entire life and she’s all like, “What the fuck is that?” We all turned around to look and this thing is sitting in the middle of the damned floor and it just flopped to one side, and you know of course we can’t stop it so we just start laughing. The sergeant is trying not to laugh and everyone is trying not to laugh, but it just gets worse. When she could finally talk she just starts screaming at us, trying to figure out what the hell we had been doing the night before. I don’t think I’ve ever done so many pushups in my life.”

Jackie raised a hand just then, “No hey, I have always had a question for you guys about the whole boot camp thing. So what do you do when it’s your time of the month? I mean do they let you guys off easy to go fix things? Or do you just have to suffer?”

“Suffer,” Mav piped in. “Mostly suffer. Like I knew girls who would be bent doubled in pain and still had to stand in formation with us like it was nothing. I mean honestly the shit we had to go through. Seriously, there is nothing worse than standing in front of your sergeant and feeling half your innards just sort of shlop out of you and you have to look this guy in the eye like nothing is going on. Like yes sir, no sir, like insides aren’t totally falling out right now.”

Jakie moaned, “Tell me about it, cramps are the worst.” She glanced towards Dr. Katie, “Seriously, when is the medical field going to do something about that?”

Katie finished off her drink and set it back on the table with a thud, “You would think after more than 200,000 years of menstruation we would know how to fix cramps, but nope, the medical field still has no friggin clue how to deal with them. The general consensus is to throw an anti- inflammatory, a heating pad or a shit-ton load of chocolate at it and pray, but otherwise sucks to suck.”

Sunny looked between the group of them, “Cramps? Your insides falling out…er ... are you guys ok?”

The group turned to look at her with incredulous looks on their faces, “You aren't serious?” Jackie asked.

Sunny stared at her blankly.

“You guys don’t have cramps, periods on your planet…like really?”

“Explain?”

Sunny wasn't entirely sure that she appreciated the explanation once it was over and shook her head vigorously, “EWWW no…. no,” she shivered. Battle sounded like a more amusing pastime.

“How does it work on your planet?” Katie wondered, the scientist in her taking over.

Sunny shifted awkwardly, “Well uh…we have a mating season. The female can become fertile twice a year. It’s during the dark season, so generally all the kits are born during or right before the bright season.”

“So, what? Do you guys just get really horny twice a year or something?”

“Er…. well no. Any time of year is fine but you are just more likely to get a kit during those times of year.”

“Uh huh, how interesting.”

Sunny didn’t exactly see how it was all that interesting. She had never been caught in this sort of conversation, oddly enough. Adam had never asked so she had never been forced to answer the question. In fact, she learned more about humans in the last ten minutes than she had learned about humans in the last year she had been aboard the ship and not all of it was great.

One of the biggest things she learned was that humans get slightly strange the more they drank.

“Ok, Ok,” CJ slurred, “Hottest guy aboard the ship, go.”

“Ramirez,” Katie responded almost immediately.

Mav snorted into her drink again, “Really….. no…. no way.”

“What, he's cute, I’d do him.”

Jackie raised her hands over her head, “I couldn’t tell you who the hottest guy on the ship is, but I CAN tell you who the hottest girl is.”

Mav didn’t bat an eye, “Well of course that would be me, like we even have to debate that subject.”

Jackie rolled her eyes and the rest of the table laughed, “Ha ha, your confidence never ceases to amaze, but you're not my type.”

Katie waved a hand, “Oh come on, I know you don't’ LIKE guys like that but you must be able to tell when one of them LOOKS nice . Come on, a shot in the dark.”

Jackie shrugged, but thought about it for a second, “Uh…. well, how about Adam, he’s good looking, right?”

The table thought about it for a moment. Mav tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, “Well I mean yeah he is, but he's also a super massive juvenile.”

CJ shrugged, “I don’t know, I think it's kind of cute.”

Katie waved a hand at all of them, “Not like it matters, because I have a couple of theories.” Sunny and the other’s looked on in interest, waiting, “I’m pretty sure he's: A into guys, B not into anyone or C a closeted extrial. There was some muttering from around the table, but Mav shook her head in disagreement.

“No, he’s too uncomfortable around women to like guys, and you can’t say he’s hiding it because he has no reason to. If he really liked guys he would be indifferent to women and awkward around men. If he wasn’t into anyone, he wouldn’t be nearly so awkward… however, I can probably get behind C.”

Sunny did not noticed the glances pointed her way

The conversation moved on to the hottest girl on the ship which sparked a furious debate despite Jackie being the only one that like girls. Turned out though that female humans had no issue discussing the perceived hotness or notness of other women. Nairobi down in engineering took the title with almost unanimous agreement.

That lead into the subject of who was the best looking DREV aboard the ship and once Sunny explained that height and carapace color were the most important outside factors mixed with fighting status, it turned into a rather entertaining debate as the humans tried to decide which Drev was the hottest while continuing to steadily drink. It finally devolved into a slurred argument between Cannon and another of their Drev members, Roc.

Sunny would have found the entire thing funny if it wasn’t also rather disturbing. Her vote was the tiebreaker which was obviously biased considering that Cannon was her brother and that was super weird, so of course Roc won the title.

The drunker they got, the worse they got, until the conversation was oscillating constantly between being mildly lewd and hilariously embarrassing stories that Sunny wouldn’t have admitted to in her wildest daydreams.

In the end, it was up to her and Mav, who also didn’t drink to get the other girls back to the shuttle. That was all before realizing that CJ was the only one who could fly the ship so they had no way of getting back on their own. In the end, they had to call for backup and a rather amused shuttle pilot showed up on scene to take the staggering party back to the ship.

Sunny wobbled onto the ship holding up two drunk women while Mav helped a third.

Together they collapsed onto some cargo containers laughing and slurring.

A shadow fell over them a moment later and Sunny looked up to find Commander Vir standing over them with a raised eyebrow, “Fun time, Ladies?”

A burst of giggling, “Yes sir,” Mav smirked.

Katie almost fell off her seat, but Vir caught her by the arm, “Alright, to bed with the lot of you.”

Kate tried to wave him off but nearly fell over once more. “Krill is going to have a fit when he sees the state of you. Come on, let’s get you to bed to sleep it off.” He glanced over at Mav, “Get the rest of them back safe.” Mav saluted and Katie giggled drunkenly, but managed to make it to her feet and together they wandered off towards the medical bay where the medical staff usually slept.

Sunny also helped Mav get the other two to their quarters before retiring to her own room exhausted, but happy.

It had been a good day. She determined to do it more often.

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nancypullen · 3 years

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Hump Day!

You guys, it’s COLD here! What the heck? I knew we were due for a cold snap, but dang! I think that tonight is the last night that temps will dip down to freezing, so hopefully we can get on with the business of enjoying spring after that. Spring always sweeps in with sunshine and daffodils and then proceeds to throw tantrums until summer ushers her out. What a moody gal. Still, we’re always glad to see her, aren’t we? I covered my tender plants last night, with the two treasured San Marzano tomatoes being included. I think one is at death’s door, but I’m giving it intensive care. Neither plant looked great when they arrived, but one just hasn’t rallied. Maybe I’ll end up with just one San Marzano and I’ll plop a good ol’ German Queen in beside it. I’ll see what happens. In more exciting news, the Kentucky Derby is just TEN DAYS away! Last year’s was scuttled, then run without fanfare in September (I think). So seeing Derby Day arrive in a semi-normal manner is delightful. I’m hoping to see elaborate masks to match the hats. I’m planning a special menu and I intend to soak it up this year. I think I’ve already found my horse. You know I always look for a gray horse first, then if there are no grays I look for a name that tickles my fancy or a jockey that inspires me. When I pulled up a list of this year’s contenders the first horse I checked turned out to be gray! Bingo! His name is Essential Quality and a quick look at his points and finishes makes him a fine bet. But...you guys...there’s another horse...a gray horse...and his name is Soup and Sandwich. How do you not pick that one? He doesn’t have much of a resume, and his best finish is a second place, but who doesn’t love a Soup and Sandwich? Essential Quality was sired by Tapit - remember him? There was such excitement around him and he was a top pick at the Kentucky Derby about fifteen years ago and then finished in ninth place. Hmmm, like father, like son? All hype and no hero? Actually he’s got Seattle Slew and Secretariat in his lineage as well. That’s got to count for something, right? I could spend hours pouring over their points, training notes, and race results - or I could do the smart thing and just see what colors the jockeys are wearing. The prettiest silks will get my bet. This could explain why I’m not rolling in my winnings. The day that a gray horse named Kitten runs in the derby carrying a jockey in pink silks I’ll lose the house. In BIG news, I darkened the door of a salon yesterday for the first time in over a year and traumatized some poor stylist who had to wade in with a machete and make sense of everything. I wasn’t terribly impressed with either her manner or the cut, but everything is tidied up and looks and feels better. In her defense maybe she was just scared. She probably has PTSD now. She wakes up at night screaming, “There’s too much! There’s too much hair!” I won’t go back, I’m not cruel. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about the color. Everyone has an opinion. Leaving it white would be the easiest, but not really the most attractive option. Coloring, but sticking to a very light brown/dark blonde shade would look better but require upkeep. Actually, white hair requires maintenance too. Because my hair is cRaZy I have to style it with heat or it’s huge and cloud-like. Heat gives white hair a yellow cast and that’s not good. So you buy purple shampoo to try to tone it and that can make hair dry. White/gray hair is naturally more coarse than colored hair which means moisturizing products and treatments, etc. It’s just a different sort of upkeep, neither option is maintenance free. Wigs are looking really good right now. I have some gorgeous pals who have gone white and they’re rocking it. They have been vocal about me keeping the white but they’re all more than a decade older than me. They were still coloring at my age without anyone shaming them for it. They also all have better hair than I do. I think the funniest thing that’s been said to me when I’ve mentioned that I may start coloring again was , “After all of that, why would you color it?!” As if I’ve worked really hard at growing hair. It requires no effort on my part, I can even do it in my sleep. I let it grow out because we were in a pandemic and I never went anywhere other than curbside pickups of groceries. Now that we’re vaccinated and I’m masking up and going inside stores I’m more aware of looking like a panda. I snapped this picture to send to my sister after being asked by the 50th stranger if I’m growing my hair out.

I’ve started responding, “No, why??” I know it looks ridiculous, just look away. The hair cut on Monday took the majority of the brown ends off. But there’s still a lot of brown on some of the layers. By the way, Mickey hasn’t noticed the haircut yet. Remember when I told you my hair is crazy? After the scared lady cut it she didn’t style it...like, not even a little. Didn’t even pullout a comb or a brush. No spritz of product for the road, nothing. She whipped that cape off and gave me the bum’s rush to the door. She was DONE. So I did what I always do and called my sister so we could laugh about it. Our hair has been the source of many a joke. I sent her this shot.

I look like I lost a fight with a weed eater. Who would send a client out into the world looking like that? Someone who hopes to never see you again, I guess. Anyway, I went home and tamed the beast and I’m not making any promises to anyone that the next time you see me I’ll have white hair. I know plenty of women who went to the grave with some Redken on their roots and died happy. Don’t judge me. It’s hard enough growing old without a bunch of critics, isn’t it? I can’t believe I’m putting my ugly mug out there for the world to see, but maybe I’ll get a pass because I’m a granny. Have mercy, be kind. Keep scrolling. Now it’s time for this calico cat to make some dinner and then run out to cover the plants one more time. Crossing my fingers that both tomatoes make it. Have a lovely night, kiddos. Do something nice for yourself. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

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wo-wann-was-wer · 4 years

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WHAT I WAS THINKING: DARK SEASON 3 EDITION

EPISODE 1:

Who are these dudes with the harelip and what do they want

Why did she just take him to a cave and leave that’s kinda rude

So everything in this universe is just gonna be backwards. Love it

Ugh I’ve said this a million times but this show has such Fringe energy and I can’t wait to get a tattoo for this too

This is super freaking me out, i dont like that everyone’s in everyone else’s house.

Ooooh Katharina with glasses yes girl you better work.

I like Michael and this hat he’s rocking

Super into the fact that magnus and fransizka are involved in this universe too

There’s nothing cuter than sex before school. Ahhh the nostalgia

Ten bucks says that Hannah gets out of this bed and is pregnant

Fucking YEP

I am loving Martha in this Jonas journey

I know that all they did was flip the lens of the camera but my brain is breaking at this flipped Winden

Who the fuck is this random dude Martha is with

You know what he kind of looks like Jonas. I wonder if that's relevant or if I'm just grasping at straws

Bartosz looks like he's going to his first grade violin recital

I straight up just did not recognize Charlotte with makeup. She looks hot

There's got to be another person in that picture other than Ulrich because that's a lot of space to rip out for one person

okay hold up Woller looks so good and then when I saw that he was missing an arm I almost lost my fucking mind

Oh shit okay Hannah is living in Katharina's house.

Oh my God are Ulrich and Charlotte having an affair

Is it normal in Germany for kids to just walk into classes that aren't there’s and just sit down

follow up he has a clear noose mark on his neck

Aleksander looks so hot with this beard. universe B is the fucking glow up universe

It's weirding me out that the whole school is black and gray instead of light brown

The look of satisfaction on katharina's face

Wow honestly Louis just broke my heart with his facial expression when he realized his mom didn't know who he was

he looks so scared

Yes yes do it afffffffffair

Oh no you done got found out!!!

Oh the theme of the play here is red and set of gold

Fransizka looks so cute in this little outfit

Oh my God she's deaf!!!!

What the fuck. the fact that this actress can talk is blowing my mind

RIP to Regina a real queen

Peter's a fucking priest

All the fucking weird-ass freaky motherfucking trio is back

The dopplers have the same house That's cool

excuse me sir I think your child is broken

these guys are so creepy What the fuck

I definitely don't like the piano wire

oh this motherfucker is the one who gets lost

I feel like winden in this universe is just a little bit fancier

Well Charlotte and Ulrich just be fucking like crazy

Bartosz is the Jonas of this group and I love it

who was that??????

I cannot get over Aleksander in this beard

I like that things are opposite but they also have things that are different enough.

Like I'm so into the fact that they all went down into the bunker

who in the unholy fuck is that. who is that

Oh shit old Martha

What the fuck is this Tannhaus’ factory we're at

hold up Martha's in 1888

What the fuck. why is Jonas in 1888 and looking SO good

EPISODE 2:

casually sitting over your bed watching you sleep

he's look so good though

yo what the fuck everybody else is there too

Oh no things got really ugly at Mads’ wake

Not for nothing but Tronte is a dick

I kind of don't understand why Claudia would want Regina to live in such pain in this type of universe

Peter is such a good boy

lurking is the freaking national past time of this place

Oh shit we got some spin-off timeline stuff good

who is This is blind guy

I love Katharina so fucking much

I know what she's thinking and it's the same thing I'm thinking which is can I kill a child

why does this picture of Tronte make him look like Jimmy Smits

Katharina looks amazing in this jacket

Also I definitely did not just start yelling GO GET YOUR MAN KATHARINA

Regina just gets more and more badass as time goes on. Also all of the women of the tiedemann family are so fucking badass

I am so excited to watch this fucking relationship develop. they're both too cute

awwww he's using signs!

oh they're writing back and forth

DAMNIT PETER

I always feel like little Noah should do fuckboy sign offs when he leaves rooms because he's so smooth

yesterday Laurel said that this was back to the future but serious and just now Bartosz said it's not super easy to get nuclear fuel in 1888 and now I think that Laurel's right

I will never get over how good he looks JONAAAASSSSSSS

This guy feels like the OG inventor of sic mundus right

Katerina why are you even trying to check in at the front desk bitch Go and get your man

Is this Katarina's mom why does she just recognize that woman's name

everyone on the show is so talented.I spend the whole damn time being like oh my god the performances on the show and it's like yeah we know

Katerina get your man

I literally love them so much look at the look on her face She is a mama bear She is not going to let anybody take her man or her children and I love her

Not a huge fan of people who quote Shakespeare right before they kill other people or am I an enormous fan of people who use Shakespeare right before they kill other people

using a garotte to kill someone is ugly as fuck

I feel so bad for Jana

see this is one of the reasons why I'm like why would you bring Regina back to this world.

wowwwww TRONTE what's up dude

YO WHAT

Oh so how did Charlotte get back there but Elizabeth's still there too. didn't they switch places?

oh the head bump

Not excited for the mother daughter abuse stuff that's about to happen

I love these split sequences that they do at the end

anytime somebody stands and stairs for a lonely at a spot on the ground I assume to somebody died there

Oh shit that guy is a tannhausokkkk I see you

a religious images we love to see it.

This show is a whole series of pause that frame.

No I ruined something for myself!!!!

EPISODE 3

got to love those through and through Ariadne references

okay so Charlotte's great great grandfather has her watch?

who are these horrible traveler human beings

they look like less sexy Francis dolarhydes

I can't get over the fact that wollers missing an arm here I swear

we ARE the glitch BITCH

alternate universe Ulrich is a better person than standard Ulrich

what's this new like zoom-y thing they're doing

I was attracted to Magnus at this jump of the show but he looks better with dark hair

How did they not all die of fucking flu

eternally repeating deja vu

I looked at the production stills and I was like what the fuck is this hair do that Moritz has but he looks amazing

Also everyone on this show deserves an acting award

and Magnus is wearing a skeleton sweater

Hannah does that deep dive detective work any bitch knows the Nose doesn't lie

why doesn't anybody want to fuck wöller

omgggg eat the RICH

also he has that x tattoo on his hand that represents the no future thing

oh the light is rectangular and not circular ooooooh fancy

The show is also a lot of people catching each other's wrists as they walk away

I knew we couldn't trust this bitch

What did he give her

I love the parallels and characters behaviors between universe a and universe b

I want to know how Noah factored into all of this on this side

Martha has a type and her type is iconically Aryan

Oh Aleksander's back with that beard he's back

Hannah is such a snake

Omg that's her!!!!! I thought she was a trans actress.. hm. not super happy bout that :/

What is Helge talking about Ulrich did what??? omg

I would be like SIR DO WE NEED TO FIGHT STOP FOLLOWING ME

I stopped taking notes for the last half of that episode cuz I was really sucked in haha

EPISODE 4

FIRST OF ALL I'D LIKE TO GO ON RECORD THAT I DON'T CARE FOR THESE GENTLEMEN AT ALL

second of all why is this guy being like oh I took your name

why does he have Agnes's bracelet I don't like that

I don't like anything about this guy That's the end of the story

Also hold up a red hot second is Agnes dead cuz if so that's a hate crime

see what did I say

I knew that Hannah was going to get involved with Egon

from the second she walked in that office I was like that bitch has her eye on him and as she should he's handsome as fuck

Also he spoils her so much more than any other man she's ever been with AKA is Egon the only man she ever deserved

Is Hannah going to develop a heart cuz I'm not sure how I feel about that

Also what happens if Hannah gets pregnant

why is Ines a bitch I thought she was mad cool the beginning and now I feel fucking deceived

Also it's such a sweet gig that The kids who are playing kids can now play teenagers

poor Doris. Also he was shitty to her but he was far nicer than I would have been

Doris is so beautiful it's bullshit

older Magnus is so handsome

All I wanted was middle-aged Martha

bitch you have been having unprotected sex with him why do you think that pregnancy was not on the tabl

I'm like who's this guy in the church if it's not Noah I bet it's that little bitch

yeah I fucking knew it

Is this the dude that was married to Agnes I feel like this guy isn't real or something

I'm not surprised he let her go but I don't know why I'm not surprised. I feel like she's important to his timeline and I'm not sure why

look at these relationships forming between these sweet little bab

Hannah looks good in this red. Hannah looks good in all of these styles.

who is this child

I like that already as a child Bernd had his eye on Claudia as someone who was smart and had a ton of potential

I keep forgetting that I'm taking notes because I get so invested in episodes

Also I realize the zoomi thing which is going back and forth between the universes

Is Agnes Silja’s mom And if so with whom

he gave her Agnes’ bracelet that dope All right Tronte

Wow Claudia needs to back off her man

Claudia force him into a relationship with her

I fucking hate Hannah but sometimes she speaks so much sense

ooh I don't need anyone Yes girl that's true You don't need anyone You needing people was what made you act fucking crazy You don't need anybody

This was always my big problem with Hannah was that I initially identified with her because she was such a survivor but then she did such horrible reprehensible things I just couldn't let it go and I absolutely couldn't identify with her anymore

Oh here's my daddy Noah looking so good

I mean okay so I have been in this position before where I was cheating and then my man cheated on me and I was like how dare you but also you cannot be mad if your partner cheats on you when you cheated too. You both fucked up

Is Hannah going to have a redemption arc cuz that's a lot

Oh my God she's not going to get rid of this child is she

Oh my great God I cannot believe that she gave Helene that necklace.

I knew she was fucking connected to Katharina in the older generation I knew it

Louis and Lisa are a super cute couple and I know that they're not dating in real life but I think that they're very cute together

Oh everybody fucking

yeah they created the Apocalypse yeah

Oh no they have a child outside of worlds that's a mess How does that work so they had they gave birth to that ugly fuck

honestly I hate that he's their child for the most part just because he's ugly as fuck and neither of them are ugly as fuck so it makes me mad.

#episodes 1-4 #live reacts #dark season 3 #spoilers #spoilers dark season 3 #dark #dark network

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 24 – 3rd Elder’s Bizarre Experience

Practice makes perfect.

Frankenstein would have thrown that in 3rd Elder’s face upon seeing the latter at work shopping for groceries, comparing products by price, details, and manufacturers before he paid the cashier.

Now the ex-elder was more than practiced; however, he was not perfect.

Partially because for the first time ever, he got to put himself against a self-checkout machine.

‘What should I do...?’

The white-haired man gulped. He could swear he did exactly what his preceding customers did, but the machine just would not let him pass on to the checkout stage.

It has been quite long since he has moved into Frankenstein’s island. With the owner of the island stuck in his lab for the majority of his time spent awake, 3rd Elder has been entrusted with getting supplies whenever needed.

Unlike before, he had plenty of time, now that he lost the title as the elder of the Union.

There were a lot of options available for him once he crosses the sea, but today he opted to visit Korea.

Among many rules Frankenstein required his consent on upon entering the island was the rule of shopping: do not consecutively visit the country or the market he has visited, lest the Union finds out what he is doing.

Which is why he was beyond bewildered to find a self-checkout machine – a modern artifact he has never seen in his previous visits.

He managed to memorize what the other customers would do, and he mimicked them accordingly, scanning each product on the small transparent surface. However, the machine simply whipped up a noise that was far from pleasant to the ears, refusing to let him actually check out.

To top it off, it was a weekend with thousands of people, and the employees were nowhere to be seen.

The 3rd Elder was sweating over his entire body, feeling how the eyes boring into his body were growing sharper and hotter, until a help arrived from someone not at all expected.

“Hey, mister!”

Yelled a little girl, making the 3rd Elder start and stare down at her.

Barely taller than his waist, a girl stuck her head out to look up into his eyes, revealing a set of teeth missing an incisor above.

“You need to put them here! Or else you can’t pay!”

She pointed towards an empty spot on the machine, her finger extremely short of a threat despite her apparent attempt at a threat.

Upon turning his eyes, 3rd Elder spotted a sign, so big and fat and obvious that he could not even fathom how in the world he missed it: Please put all your products here before check-out.

“Okay? Now be good and follow the sign!”

Her hands very proudly on her waist, the girl trotted to her mother, who was just packing her groceries at the machine right next to his.

Check-out completed so ridiculously fast, 3rd Elder’s eyes chased the girl, now far away and smaller than a dot, a feat for which he needed an effort, with the market teeming with children.

In fact, the market was teeming with more than children.

Girls and boys about to write college application essays in a year or two.

Young men and women preparing themselves for the bigger world outside lectures.

Middle-aged couples and elders.

The 3rd Elder could see a variety of age groups, which was rare considering how at the Union, whether they were agents or researchers, most employees and personnel were in their twenties and thirties, in forties at most.

Which was probably why 3rd Elder was deep into reflection – also a rare occasion – probably thanks to the fact that he has been staying away from Union.

‘If I were not part of the Union, would I be in these people’s shoes by now? Worrying about studies and job, dinner for the day, and living for tomorrow? Ordinary as hell?’

Just because the people here are not physically fighting for their lives would not mean their lives are far from fierce.

He could not feel any of the innate-slash-natural possession any Union-affiliated being would beget: razor-sharp, touch-me-if-you-dare atmosphere based on daily struggle for survival, betting on one’s own life as well as those of others, or otherworldly presence fashioned from experiments, combats, and training beyond human understanding.

And the point was that this place was full of men and women around the same age as the people of Union, which led to another reflection for the 3rd Elder.

‘My trusted, faithful followers at the Union must have had lives like these before meeting me. So if it weren’t for the Union, if it weren’t for our encounters, if it weren’t for me... Maybe they would have been happy in the ordinary world, without throwing away their lives in vain.’

Never before had he regarded his followers’ sacrifices for the sake of Union’s progress as “vain.”

But now, simply and offensively put, Union is done for.

These days he was seriously haunted by a question perhaps a bit belated: just for what had his followers thrown their lives away?

“Haa......”

He could not help sighing in the middle of the street as he exited the building, with no one’s attention on him. The passersby merely gawked at him for a second or two out of pure reflex to his sudden halt.

Which was rather odd to him as well.

Every soul at the Union would bow to him as soon as his cloak flapped in the air, but nobody was treating him with awe and distant respect, and he knew it was not simply because he was missing his elder’s cloak.

In addition to the fact that as of now he looked like a highly ordinary man, everyone was busy with themselves.

“Honey! You forgot to put socks on our baby!”

“Hey, do you mind if I copy your homework? Oh, come on! Just for one day! Be a pal and save my ass, will ya?!”

“So what’s the last item on the list, darling?”

Man or woman, young or old, everyone was occupied with their lives.

And 3rd Elder found this situation rather difficult to comprehend, for as far as he was concerned, the public’s interest on nobles has skyrocketed ever since Crombell played his mind game on the world.

Nevertheless, contrary to his knowledge, the people he was witnessing could not be less interested in nobles, Lukedonia, or non-human entities.

Not that these people would represent the entire public in the world, but at least they were too busy devoting themselves to their everyday lives.

And in their presence, 3rd Elder could feel everything he has gone through fading into tiny dust, as Union, as an elder, as a modified human.

He believed everything he had ever committed was for the sake of mankind; however, his belief was melting away as he was standing in midst of plain life so very far from body modification, wrestle against werewolves and nobles, or struggle for power to stand at the apex of the world.

Everyone was busy bustling, rustling, and being busy.

He could see how each face bore personal challenges and ordeals of life, but he could also see such things could not hinder them from fully dedicating themselves to their lives.

‘And they look happy.’

He could feel his mind growing dreamily numb in the middle of a crowd boasting the perfume of ordinariness as they weaved minute knots and ties of their ordinary lives.

And he could feel guilt.

This was not his first time ever feeling guilty, but recently his guilt has grown more dominant as his question grew.

‘What if my goal – the Union’s goal to make mankind flourish was but nothing?’

The 3rd Elder broke free from his reveries, mortified by his own thought.

And then things took a sudden flip, like a set of dominoes stroked in a flash of light.

Pow!

A boom of cacophony made everyone within 100-meters radius eject themselves from their spots, and 3rd Elder joined the others to find the source of the noise.

He could find a car entering the parking lot dangerously shaking to the side, leaving angry skid marks on the road with one of its tires burst.

There was a good chance its driver forgot the very basic rule of driving: never speed in the parking lot. Which was why everyone could feel threat for their lives just by watching the said car.

“Aack!”

“Everybody, run!”

People were making themselves scarce, looking for a safe place; meanwhile, the car with a flat tire was rushing towards a child and her mom.

And the 3rd Elder recognized the child – his little lifesaver at the self-checkout machine.

‘No...!’

Without wasting even a split second, he focused his gaze on the mother and the girl, and his eye long sealed away blinked with life.

I am about to push a pair of eggs onto the floor, and I must save them without breaking them.

Telling himself to be extra-careful, he pushed the girl and her mother to a nearby bush with his power. And he could not hesitate to find out if they were safe, for he had to stop the car as well.

Screech!

Glaring into the car that was stampede-rolling into his direction, 3rd Elder concentrated his power on the mold of metal, as if pushing the thing into a stop.

To his relief, his effort was reciprocated in a good way.

“Someone call 911!”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Are they out of their goddamn mind? This is a parking lot, for Christ’s sake!”

The voices told him the girl and her mother were safe, except for a few scratches they could not avoid.

The driver looked unscathed as well, apart from the fact that his driving record would not remain so.

‘Thank god... Oh, THANK GOD.’

The 3rd Elder had never been more grateful in his life, his shoulders and chest heaving and slouching in a huge sigh.

Once he saw things settling down, he finally took his leave.

But he could not fancy where he was headed; his legs were uncontrolled, his mind disconnected from his body.

This was the very first time he used his power for the purpose of protection, with no return on his side.

It was a bizarre experience, but it did not feel so bad.

However, such small delight did not last long.

‘What the...?’

He did not classify himself as a combatant elder.

Of course, as an elder with a one-digit number on his title, his battle competence was by no means to be underestimated. Nonetheless, his specialty was coordination of things from behind the scenes.

But that did not stop him from shaping his so-called battle instincts, as one of the top fighters in Union.

And his instinct just signaled him he had someone trailing him.

Scurrying around a dozen corners to find a place with no eyes or ears, 3rd Elder at last turned around once he made it to an empty alley, before he immediately stiffened.

“You...?!”

(next chapter)

This is personally one of my favorite chapters for this fic. Years ago, I once read an interview featuring authors of Noblesse, and they said they wanted to show how precious is the ordinary life we are born with. I don’t remember anything else from the interview, but that comment remains vivid in my head. So through this chapter I wanted to shed some light on the ordinary life in 3rd Elder’s point of view. Of course, it was a challenge writing this chapter, but it was definitely worth it. XD

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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harringroveficarchive · 4 years

Text

Flowers for Yikes!

Steve stands outside of…Atomic Midnight Tattoos…preparing for his demise. He breathes in, then out, and opens the door of the parlour. As he walks inside, he is greeted with a smile by a lady that looks suspiciously like Connie Marble. “Hi, welcome in! Do you have an appointment with one of our artists?” Steve reaches the counter and says “I-I don’t, sorry.” He’s never been to a tattoo parlour before. He doesn’t know the procedures; he’s only aware of the pain factor from stories his friends have shared. “No need to apologise, it’s alright. I’ll ask and see if any of our artists have free time for a flash tattoo appointment. Be right back.”

Steve waits for a second, looking around the parlour with it’s red on (darker) red damask wallpaper, and the wooden baseboards and door frames painted black. He admires the chrome chandelier above him and especially loves the exotic plants decorating some corners of the shop. When “Connie” returns, Steve stops his prying and gives her a hopeful look.

“Hurricane Bill isn’t busy at the moment. Would you like to see examples of his work? Or just book now..?”

Hurricane Bill? What kind of fucking name is that? “No, it’s alright. We can just book now. It’s…it’s not a big deal of a tattoo, so I’m sure Bill’s skills will do.” He hates that the last part rhymed a little.

The lady in red chuckles behind her hand and tells Steve to fill out a release form while his tattoo artist prepares and sets up his work station.

As Steve returns the release form, he hears the sound of rubber soles approaching on his left.

“Harrington?”

Steve turns quickly to see the owner of the boots, and time suddenly stops.

“Billy?!”

A chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s me…don’t cream your pants.” Billy winks at Steve.

“Oh god…” Steve’s face flushes and he covers it with his pale hands.

“What are you doing here?” (‘Connie’ leaves to the back, giving these two idiots some space.)

“Well…what do you think?” One hand remains on Steve’s face.

“I never expected to meet you here…”

“What? I can’t get a tattoo?”

“No, I mean I never expected to see you in CALIFORNIA.” Billy holds his arms across his chest.

“Oh…well Robin and I just opened business here and-”

“Woah! Wait, wait…come into my room and you can tell me all about it while I sketch, yeah?”

And so Billy leads Steve into his “studio” and closes the door behind them. Billy gestures for Steve to sit on the dentist-looking chair, and Billy takes a seat on a rolling chair next to him, quickly fetching for his sketchbook. The room is small, but looks efficient and organised. There’s many drawers; hygienic products and ink on some shelves; a sink; a few photos framed over the eggplant painted walls; and some potted succulents scattered here and there. There’s also a small bookcase that catches Steve’s eye, and a fancy lamp on one of the corners.

“So, what are you looking to get tattooed today?” Billy grabs a pencil from his desk.

“Well…” Steve starts nervously. “I kind of lost a bet and-”

“Oh no.” Billy lowers the sketchpad to his lap.

A beat.

“I have to get ‘DINGUS’ tattooed and…” Steve trails off, a shade redder than he was before.

“Like…the word DINGUS…on your dingus?” Billy teases with a smirk plastered on his face as he ties his hair back into a bun.

“What? No! That would be…inappropriate.” And there Steve goes placing his hands to his face again.

Billy doesn’t say anything and just waits for Steve to tell him more about this horror-piece of a tattoo idea.

“It…it has to be a tramp stamp.” he says in a very wonky, very unsure tone and looks down the whole time, obviously embarrassed.

“Oh…ok, no. I’m not doing that. That makes me uncomfortable.” Billy gets up and puts his sketchpad away. He seems tormented by the situation and Steve just “What? What do you mean? It’s just-”

“Steve, I don’t care if you lost a bet.” He looks back at Steve. “Hell, is your friend…Robin?” Steve nods once. “Is Robin at least paying for the tattoo?”

“Well, no, I lost the bet so I-”

“No, fuck that shit. I’m not fucking up your beautiful body that way.” He begins to remove his jacket. “Do you trust me?”

“What? N-not really …I haven’t seen you in years its-”

“Wow…ouch.” Another beat. “No here-” Billy takes Steve’s left arm and places it over Steve’s head. “Just trust me. Keep your arm here for me. I’m going to lower the upper part of the chair…just sit still.” Billy fiddles with the bottom of the chair and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t panicking a little. Suddenly Billy grabs at his shoulders and gently brings Steve’s head down on the chair. He gives him a pillow to lay his pretty head on and Steve is still nervous…but also, Billy just fucking called him beautiful. He doesn’t know what to expect anymore, but he also doesn’t want to get up and leave. As scared as Steve feels in the moment…he’s also immensely curious to see what Billy is up to.

Billy gets some sharpies and a disposable razor from one of his many drawers. He presses play on his boombox and Kashmir by Led Zeppelin begins to play from the speakers just audible enough to be comfortable. Billy then shaves the back of Steve’s forearm, and then starts free-handing some design on his arm. Steve can see nothing; he’s not allowed to. He only feels the smooth tip of the markers making delicate lines on his skin, and it almost feels…seductive.

“So tell me about this business of yours. I’m intrigued.” Billy asks while he continues to mark Steve’s arm.

Steve actually smiles at that…Billy’s interest makes him feel more at ease. “It’s a flower business! It’s actually right across the street from this shop.”

“Oh, no way! That’s you guys? We saw the establishment come to life little by little. It looks like a very homey shop. Congrats.”

“Thank you! We’re very proud of it. Robin and I just opened last week and so far everyone’s been so nice and supportive.”

“Is Robin your girlfriend?” Billy asks nonchalantly, but with a hint of worry at the VERY back of his voice.

“Noooo.” Steve says with an almost brooding tone. “Robin is my best friend and nothing more than that…”

Billy scoffs at that statement and tries to lighten the mood after Steve’s tone. “Hmm…yeah sure…because friends can’t be real best friends unless they make you get tramp stamps across the street. Is she cackling over there, or how come she didn’t come witness the glory of her suggestions?”

“Well she went out of her way to restock some flowers today…she’s expecting the tramp stamp when she arrives and now…I don’t know what to tell her.”

“That’s alright. I can talk to her if you’d like…” Billy scribbles at the bottom of Steve’s forearm. “I won’t miss adding DINGUS on this fucker anyways.” He continues sketching.“So why flowers?”

“Well, I’ve always been very attracted to flowers…they’re just so pretty, and plants are SO interesting! Robin has also told me I have an eye for detail. Flower arrangements are a great way to combine my skill and passion.”

“That’s admirable. Say…do you think I can swing by your shop, and request a special bouquet for my girlfriend after our session?” Billy smiles, even if Steve can’t see it.

“Sure!”Steve tries to sound enthusiastic, but waits a little before adding with another brooding tone“…you have a girlfriend?”

Billy chuckles. “Nah! Mag is my best friend. She has a girlfriend though! And I’m pretty sure they’d love to have some flowers in the apartment. It’s been a while…”

“Huh…funny how both of our best friends are lesbians.” Steve makes a remark, and Billy rolls his eyes but manages to crack a laugh anyways.

“Hmm…yeah, a little weird. Alright, I’m done sketching and-NO! No no…you can’t look!” And Steve pouts a little when Billy grabs and keeps his arm over his head.

Billy then starts to prep the tattoo machine. He grabs some black latex gloves and brings his small table with ink caps closer. “Alright Stevie, I’m coming in. Are you ready?”

But Steve is still stuck at the fact that Billy just called him Stevie. “Umm…” and then he catches on. “Ready…yeah, sure. Let’s do this.”

“Alright. Remember to just keep breathing, and if it gets too uncomfortable…count to 10, focus on your breathing, or talk to me! I want to make this a comfortable experience for you. Wait…is this your first tattoo?” Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd washes over the sudden silence.

“It…it is.” Steve’s eyes narrow a little at the corners.

“Oh wow…a virgin amongst us. Well, it’s a pleasure to be your first.” Billy winks at Steve as he cuts some paper towels from the roll. “Okay here we go.” And Billy’s needle starts buzzing and comes in contact with Steve’s arm. He drags the machine across, and Steve feels a ticklish kind of pain. He’d heard people compare the pain to cat scratches, but Steve’s never been scratched by a cat…He begins to think it might not be as painful as people make it out to be?

“Why don’t you tell me more…I want to catch up with your life. What have you even been up to?” And Steve is touched by Billy’s generous gesture to learn about his life. So they talk through the session, learning what things have changed and what has remained the same since high school; and it almost feels surreal that they’re able to talk as if they’d just seen each other yesterday. Getting the lineart done was a breeze, and the random moments of silence were brief. Somewhere down the line though, Billy feels a ragged breath coming from Steve the third time he comes in to apply colour.

“C’mon, Steve…deep breaths now.” The room tenses a little, and in the air you only hear Steve’s panting, followed by Billy’s constant “I’m sorry” mumbles and “breathe, breathe” or “You’re doing great!” but Steve still seems in discomfort. “Would you like a break? I can give you 5 minutes if you need them.”

Steve seems in a bit of a daze, and he doesn’t give Billy a reply, so he gets worried. He places his machine down and removes his latex gloves to fetch Steve a cup of water.

“Can I trust that you won’t peek at your tattoo?” Billy asks in a delicate voice, and gets nothing but a soft nod from Steve. Billy takes this opportunity to flip his mixtape over, and goes outside the room for the water. When he returns, Steve has kept his left arm over his head like a good boy. He also has placed his right arm over his soft tummy and brought his legs up, dirtying up the chair with his sneakers. Steve looks comfortable and so inviting with that pair of forest green shorts, making Billy’s heart skip a beat.

“Is the water for me? Hellooo…”

Steve’s sudden preppier tone brings Billy back to, and he apologises nervously. “Sorry, you…you’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything.”

Steve isn’t taken aback by the comments anymore. He’s getting more and more comfortable around Billy, and so he puts his right arm out to take the water from him. Steve takes a few gulps and Billy presses play on his mixtape before getting a fresh pair of latex gloves. “We’re about halfway through…do you think you can take some more pokes for me?” Steve holds the paper cup between his teeth, no hand required.

“Okaaaay” he mumbles through the cup in a childish tone that makes Billy smile.

“Hey…I know what will take your mind off the pain. Why don’t you tell me about your favourite flowers?”

And so Steve lightens up and starts to tell Billy about Cyclamens, Hydrangeas, and Gazanias. Of how much he adores Daffodils, Gardenias and Lilies the best. He doesn’t miss mentioning how much he loves the colour of Lilacs and Caucasian pincushions, as well as his current obsession with adding Baby’s-Breath to every arrangement he makes.

Billy doesn’t fail to chime in about his love of Delphiniums, Irises and Penny Blacks…

“I also like those, ummm…what do they call them? Ace of Spades?”

“Oh! The ones with all the tiny buds in deep red?” Steve still holds the empty paper cup in his right hand. “That’s a good pick! You probably would also like Passifloras.”

“What are those?”

“The crazy purple ones with-…geez, I don’t know how to describe them. Maybe I should just show you?”

“I would like that very much!” It almost felt like Steve was no longer in pain! So they continue talking and they both comment on the amazingness of succulents; they agree that water lilies are great and that magnolias are precious flowers that should definitely be in the flower arrangement for Billy’s best friends back in his apartment. At some point Steve sheds a few tears because apparently flowers make him very happy…and Billy thinks he might be mixing his emotions with the pain of his pokes…but he can’t help to find Steve crying over flowers to be extremely endearing, and it makes him smirk like crazy.

When Billy is done, he sprays water on Steve’s arm and wipes away with a paper towel, like…twice too many times, Steve thinks, because honestly…that shit stings!

“Okay champ, you can have a look now!” Billy says enthusiastically as Veterans of the Psychic War by Blue Öyster Cult nears its end.

He helps Steve get up from the chair, and guides him to the mirror on the wall. Steve is extremely nervous; what if Billy just did some crazy, but very meticulous lettering work for the word DINGUS all across the back of his forearm? He did say the word dingus would be there…he just didn’t want to make it into a tramp stamp…apparently. But throughout this journey Steve realised that he’d gained an immense trust in Billy.

Billy, who had once beat the living daylights out of his face, now made him feel so safe and comfortable throughout the pain of this tattoo…he couldn’t possibly have fucked-

Oh.

Steve stands in front of the mirror, gasping into his right hand. He has no words…he’s frozen. Billy stares at Steve, then at the tattoo, and back to Steve.

Steve brings his left arm across his chest and glides his eyes over the neo-traditional dagger that decorates his arm. He traces his gaze from the tip of the blade to the handle…and marvels at the sight of the flowers wrapped on the handle, gracing near his elbow. Billy notices Steve looking at the flowers; their deep purple shade making a lovely contrast on Steve’s skin tone, and says,

“I wanted to make a homage to your new flower business, and Orchids are my favourite flowers so I…” he drops his comment at the sight of tears in Steve’s eyes.

“Oh, Steve please don’t cry. You’re being a baby, just-” Steve has now enveloped Billy in a tight hug, and he doesn’t know what to say. Billy just eases into the hug and pats Steve’s back. He’s very glad to see Steve is content with the outcome of his work. Above all, he’s also secretly VERY glad to see Steve again.

Back at the front counter, Steve complains that Robin will punch him because the word DINGUS is only a shade darker than the stems of the Orchid; and SOOOO TINY.

“Just send her over to punch me. Guess I’m to blame for not respecting the bet.” They both giggle nervously and stand timidly around. Parting is such sweet sorrow…and neither one of them knows how to break that ice.

“So…” Steve finally begins again. “How much do I owe you?”

Billy chuckles a little. “Oh, right. Well, how about you pay for my dinner? I half-assed your original tattoo design anyways.”

“Oh…no, I insist. What you did is so beautiful…I must pay full price.”

“Right…” Billy says assertively. “Pay for my very expensive dinner at the fanciest, most overpriced restaurant we can find, and we can call it even Steven” And they both just burst out laughing.

“Alright, it’s a date then.” Steve smiles, and Billy flutters his eyelashes at him, leaning forward and placing his arms on the counter.

“Can I get my private tour of your flower shop now, pretty boy?” Billy winks at Steve and that makes him blush like crazy. In his flushed panic, he looks down and catches a glimpse of Billy’s arms on the counter. He notices a dagger tattoo on the back of his right forearm, and Steve melts for a second.

The next time he sees Billy inside his flower shop again, there’s a pair of white lilies adorning the handle of his dagger, making Steve melt twofold. Lilies are Steve’s favourite flower.

#xgardensinspace #fluff #soft #au #submission

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onelonelystory · 4 years

Text

Jontim + hair pt1

Jon’s hair is always a bit too long. His hair is thick and dark and too much of a hassle. His grandmother didn’t care much about his appearance when he was young, and no one judges a college kid for looking a bit scraggly. The Institute is his first full-time job, he’s only recently got his Master’s, and he doesn’t know much about making himself presentable. Outside of work he’s got his haggard academic aesthetic with his tweed jackets and fancy accent and it works. It works less with his ill-fitting work clothes, and he feels like a hack or a child, depending on the day and the strength of his 5-o-clock shadow.

He gets himself into trouble in artifact storage, maybe in his 2nd week on the job? He’s meant to go find someone for his boss, some girl named Sasha James, but he gets lost and hits a shelf in frustration and a jar falls and breaks over his head. Someone finds him, luckily, and douses him in water before the corrosive powder that had been in the jar reaches his skin. He returns to work with his hair singed, doesn’t even bother looking in a mirror or trying to fix himself up.

Tim notices immediately, because of course he does; he’s barely taken his eyes off of this beautiful man in the weeks that he’s known him, he’s not about to miss the half inch of hair that’s been burnt off.

Tim catches Jon in the break room at the end of the work day, and asks about it. He’s been working himself up to asking Jon out to drinks all week, but when he hears Jon say he was planning to do nothing about his hair what comes out of Tim’s mouth is, “Can I cut it?”

Tim’s hair is long and has been for as long as he’s been living on his own. He cuts his own hair, trims it at least once a month, plays around with it some if he’s feeling like it. Hair grows, his grows fast, he tries to have fun with it. He’s got plenty of experience cutting other people’s hair, too. He allows himself to reminisce for 30 seconds on it, remembering Danny the way he was when he was a hyperactive 12 year old who never minded that Tim was the only person who ever paid enough attention to when he should be getting his hair cut. 30 seconds, so it can still be a happy memory when he’s done with it.

Jon hasn’t responded, is still stood there with the fridge door open, looking at Tim a little blankly. So he repeats, “Your hair? Can I cut it?”

“But...” Jon closes the fridge door and tightens his fingers around his coffee mug. “But it’s shorter now?”

Tim’s holding back a laugh at this point, can’t make this beautiful man think he’s laughing at him. It’s just kind of cute, how genuinely confused he seems. “That it is! But it’s a little burnt at the tips, right? And it’s cheaper than going to a pro.”

Jon wasn’t planning on cutting his hair at all, but Tim looks sincere so he agrees.

“Your place or mine?” Tim jokes.

“Oh, well, I only have kitchen scissors?” Jon responds, entirely oblivious.

“Mine it is.”

And, you know, it’s not like Jon has never cut his hair before, it’s just that he’s had this habit of lobbing off the ends when it gets too long and calling it a day, and that overall it feels very different when Tim is sitting him down on a chair in the bathroom, running his hands through Jon’s freshly washed hair and asking how he wants it.

“Not too short.” He doesn’t really know what else there is. He feels a bit embarrassed but Tim just smiles and nods.

“You’ve got really nice hair,” he says, cool as a cucumber, like he’s not melting over spending half an hour with his hands in this beautiful man’s hair. “It’s very thick. I bet you could do all kinds of fun things with it. Seriously don’t even bother with a salon I’ll cut your hair for free next time, too.”

“Oh you don’t have to-”

“I know that. I mean, you don’t have to either, but I’d be glad to, really.”

“I’ll... thank you.”

It’s a bit awkward, but they joke around. Jon talks about perceptual studies, and Tim talks about books. Jon talks about how he can’t read two books by the same author and Tim is appalled. This is, though they will never look back and realize, the moment they become friends. By the time Tim is putting on finishing touches to properly frame the face, he’s coerced a genuine smile or two out of Jon.

“And in the mornings, if you don’t have time for any product, you can just,” Tim pulls out a comb with a bit of dramatic flair, and right-hand parts Jon’s hair. “Not the trendiest of styles, sure, but it’s classic. I think it suits you.”

Jon’s a bit overwhelmed by all this, to be honest. He’s never really thought hair could have styles, or needed product, but when Tim shows him his reflection... he looks good. Professional.

The next day when he goes into work, someone jokes that having almost burned his head off might have been worth it and Tim goes to argue. But then Jon laughs, and Tim gets a bit distracted.

He manages to ask Jon to drinks that evening, too.

#this became more of an almost!fic than a not!fic #not!fic #If I knew it was going to end up being almost a story I would have put more into it tbh I'm a bit disappointed now #propaganda #jontim #jontim propaganda #jon sims #jonathan sims #tim stoker #bisexual tim stoker #magpod #and i will haunt your nightmares bloodied and cackling #the magnus archives #sasha james #danny stoker

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sterling-starlight · 4 years

Text

No Texting During Drama Club

Me: Alright! Week two of Vesuvian pride is all about the modern day AUs, I can do this!

*Eight pages later*

What happened? (Pen pals/online friends meeting in person for the first time. Not quite as adherent to the prompt, but I think it works well enough)

Unknown Sender

3:30 PM.

“-heard u have a&p with prof valdemar. If you let me copy ur notes, I will owe u pizza for the rest of our lives.

-this is Julian, btw. from the theater club.

-in case u thought this was some, u know, random creep.”

You

3:35 PM

“-Fine. But only because no one deserves to be failed by Valdemar.

-I’ll drop them off at the dressing room tomorrow. I like pineapple and olive pizza.”

Unknown Sender

3:37 PM

“-pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, u monster!

-sigh. but I'll let it slide since you’re saving my ass.”

You

3:41 PM

“-Did you really just type out ‘sigh’?”

Unknown Sender

3:43 PM

“-….

-Yes.”

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

You

6:30 PM

“-So, hey. Congrats on getting to play Hamlet.”

Julian

6:34 PM

“-not the most original production we’ve done, but a role’s a role. seeing Lucio’s face when he realized he wasn’t the star was worth it.”

You

6:40 PM

“-Remind me who that is.

I’m seriously drawing a blank here.”

Julian

6:43 PM

“-blonde. rich. Insufferable. loud.

-he has that fancy prosthetic arm that somehow makes him better than everyone.”

You

6:50 PM

“-Oooooooooh. Him.

-He doesn’t really come to bother us production people unless he wants to bitch about costuming or the sets. Which is a lot.”

Julian

6:55 PM

“-i think I've heard you chew him out a few times. Ur the girl with the venterran accent, right?”

You

7:01 PM

“-Aye.

-Surprised you could even understand me. Not a lot of people can when I get PO’d.”

Julian

7:10 PM

“-i understood enough to know you called him a prick.

-my mom and dad took me to venterre once. it was almost as pretty as you.”

You

7:20

“-Wow.

-That was horrible and you should feel horrible.”

Julian

7:12

“-I have no shame, and never will, my dear.”

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

Julian

3:00 AM

“-natalia

“-hey, natalia.”

“-tali”

Julian 3:05 AM

“-how did people in the middle ages first think to start using leeches?

“-like, did they stick leeches on themselves and realize that pain and blood loss and disease was the medicine?”

You

3:06 AM

“Jules, it is 3 in the goddamn morning. Go to bed.”

Julian

3:07 AM

“I work the graveyard shift at supermarket. it’s my lunchtime.”

You

3:08 AM

“-Then fuckin eat your lunch and let normal people sleep before I cram it up your ass.”

Julian

3:10 AM

“- I can think of much more fun things we can do.”

You

3:15 AM

“-Fuck you, I’m going back to sleep.”

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

Jules

2:30 PM

“-So you really had a pet ram as a kid?”

You

2:31 PM

“-Technically, I still do. I just couldn’t bring him with me.

“-my flat allows large dogs, but won’t allow rams? It’s bullshit.”

Jules

2:32 PM

“-rams aren’t really normal pets tho.”

You

2:33 PM

“-Says the guy who has a pet crow.”

Jules

2:34 PM

“-malak is a raven, number 1.

-number 2, he is an absolute delight. how dare you say otherwise?

You

2:40

“-Rufus is better.

“-Behold the glory”

Jules

2:50 PM

“-oh, so it’s a pet off then? Fine! May the cutest animal win!”

You

3:00 PM

“-Fine!”

Jules

3:05 PM

“-Have at you!”

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

When Natalia’s phone rang, she was actually shocked to see Julian’s caller id flash on the screen. They had never actually... talked on the phone before.

The worst-case scenarios instantly popped into her head. Was he hurt? Did something happen? What if this was the hospital calling her to say he was in critical condition. Why would he put her as an emergency medical contact without telling her?!

Her phone buzzed again, more insistently, and she pressed the answer button with a trembling finger.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi~” The feminine voice from the other line was definitely not Julian, not even at his most dramatic falsetto. And she sounded too chipper to be the bearer of doom and death. Natalia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “This is... Tali? Right?”

“It’s Natalia, actually. Who is this?”

“My name is Portia! I’m Ilya’s- oh, sorry. One sec,” Portia put a hand over the speaker, muffling the commotion on her side of the line. There was thumping, shuffling, and her shouting “You have her listed as ‘My Dearest Tali’, Ilya! Come on!”

A voice that sounded somewhat like Julian’s shouted back something, but Natalia couldn’t hear it clearly. There was a sound like static or rushing wind, before a door slammed and Portia let out a triumphant laugh. Portia’s voice fully came back on the line. “Sorry. But, yeah. I’m Ilya’s little sister. I would have liked to meet you in person, but my brother is completely hopeless.” Someone thumped against the door, and Portia lowered the phone again. “You know I’m right!” She yelled at the door.

Back to normal. “Aaaanyway. He’s been lamenting, and sighing, and wallowing over whether or not he should ask you out. So! You wanna go on a date with him?”

Natalia opened and closed her mouth a few times, wordless sounds escaping. She was sure her face was burning pink. She could feel the heat spreading from her cheeks to her neck. “Take your time. I can be in here all day.” Portia said casually. Natalia could almost picture her reclining back casually on whatever it was she was sitting on.

“Ah- Ah,” Natalia finally managed to choke out. She took in a deep breath, and let it out in a slow whistle. “...if he really wants tae.” She finally said.

“Oh, he does. Trust me, I know him better than anyone.” Natalia could hear Portia’s smile through the phone. Distantly, a lock clicked and a door swung open. “She said yes, Ilyushka. You can thank me later.”

“That wasn’t- you’re missing the-!” Julian stammered. He took a breath and lifted the phone to his ear. “Listen, whatever Pasha said, you can just forget it. Really. It’s nothing.”

For a moment, Natalia found herself stunned by the sound of his voice. It wasn’t anything new to her. She had heard it from behind thick velvet curtains and up on catwalks. She had heard him bellow for lost love mournfully, monologue passionately, and condemn his enemies. But those were all characters. Hamlet, and Romeo, and Othello. None of them had been Julian Devorak. Not really.

“Natalia?” His voice broke her out of her stupor, and sent a shiver down her spine. The way his tongue curled around the syllables of her name, like he had never spoken anything more sacred, sent her heart aflame in the best possible way.

“Julian.” She spoke his name barely above whisper. Natalia leaned against her desk for support, head spinning. When had- how did- why didn’t he- she- they-? She took in a breath through her nose, just as Julian heaved a resigned sigh.

“Good night, Tali.”

“No, wait, Julian! Don’t-!” The dial tone droning in her ear was all she got. And when she tried calling him, all she got was his voice mail.

Try again. Voice mail.

You

8:00 PM

“-Julian, you asshole! Pick up your phone!”

*Last Read by Jules at 8:05 PM.

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

Natalia Valeth was not a quitter.

She hadn’t given up when she left her home country to become a pharmacist. She hadn’t lost hope when she didn’t make the cut to be on the acting team. She didn’t back down even as Professor Valdemar verbally tore the first draft of her thesis to shreds. So, when she drove to the community theater the very next weekend, she was a woman on a mission.

She was hours early for once, but not so early that the doors to the theater weren’t already unlocked. The only person who would wake up at the ass crack of dawn for theater was Julian, and that was exactly what Natalia was betting on. She threw open the auditorium doors with a resounding bang that echoed resoundingly all throughout the room. Sitting on the edge of the stage was Julian, who looked up at her when she made her entrance. The script he had been looking over listlessly fell from his grip, scattering like leaves in the wind. In such a quiet room, Natalia could hear him curse as if she were right at his side. She steeled herself and marched down the steps of the auditorium, stopping less than an arm’s length away from were Julian sat on his haunches collecting the papers.

“We need tae talk. Face tae face this time.”

“Do we?” Julian finally collected the script and rose to his full height. Despite having a good foot on Natalia, he had never looked smaller gunmetal gray eyes looking everywhere but at her. He turned his back on her to tap the pages crisply against the stage.

“You bet yer ass we dae! Whit th’ hell urr ye thinking’s? Whit, did ye think ignoring this wid mak’ it go away?”

“...Maybe a little.”

“Och! Yer impossible!” Natalia threw her hands up with the exclamation. “Did ye think Ah juist said ‘aye’ tae fuck wi’ ye? A’m waantin’ tae gang oan a date wi’ ye! Mibbie even twa! If we feel really crazy, we’ll mak’ it three.”

It might not have been the three magical worlds that would have been most dramatic. If this were a stage production, this would be the part where the lights would dim, and the spotlight would narrow over the two lovers, giving the illusion that they were the only two people in the world. With the theater as empty as it was, they might as well have been.

“Do you... Do you mean that?”

Such vulnerability didn't seem like Julian. Julian could throw out innuendos as easily as breathing. Julian was overly dramatic in everything he did, even when he wasn’t in front of an adoring audience. But it was the Julian who wanted to be a doctor. It was the Julian who looked at all the pandemics of the past, and wondered why so many people had to die. The Julian who was wound up so tightly like he was bracing himself for ejection like it would come as a physical blow.

Sarcasm felt like it would just add fuel to the fire, so Natalia opted for compassion instead. When she brushed her hand against Julian’s cheek, he leaned into it like he needed her touch the same way needed air.

“I’m willin tae huv a go at this.” She said gently, like everything would shatter around them if she was too abrasive. “Ye in?”

“Absolutely.” Julian placed a hand over hers and tilted his head enough to plant a shy, fleeting kiss to her palm.

Maybe this would end in a romance for the ages. Maybe this would end in tragedy. Whatever happened, it was better than not pursing it at all.

#Vesuvian Pride 2020 #vp2020 #julian devorak #natalia valeth #julian x mc #the used alchemy to combine college aus with drama club aus #in which Portia tries to play wingman but Julian is too busy being insecure to appreciate it #the arcana #the arcana game

6 notes · View notes

mvrcutios · 4 years

Text

— INTRODUCING:

➺ Alexandre Preston as M𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔬

Hi everyone! I’m Olivia, 24 from the pst timezone !! I love romantic foreign films and every incarnation of Skam ever created. Also, tik tok. Way way too much tik tok. This is my interpretation of Mercutio (loml tbh), Alexandre! A pretty boy with charm and brains and you bet your ass he knows it. Portrayed by the beaut that is Maxence Fauvel, i’m genuinely filled to the brim with muse for this boy so, without further ado, time for the main event! (as he prefers to be lbr )

name: alexandre henri preston

age: 21

birthday: July 28th, 1998

gender: male

pronouns: he/him

degree: double major of business & music composition (father currently aware of the 1st)

zodiac: leo.

languages: fluent in french & italian, attempting to swear in russian and japanese.

hobbies: piano, cello, running, sex, parties, reading

vices: whiskey, gin, socialites, card games, fast cars, midnight symphonies, menthol cigarettes

pinterest is here !!

the aesthetic: Dom Pérignon, lipstick stained shirt collars, blue eyes with darkened circles, menthol cigarettes, 2am melodies on a piano down the hall, bruised knuckles, hotel balconies, strobe lights and heavy bass, macarons flaked in gold, lips pressed to cheeks, 3am club invitations, lingering eyes, too bright smiles, bitten bruises soothed with a tongue,shattered mirrors, ripped fingernails, screaming into the silent night, laughter whispered into skin, pills pressed to tongues, platinum amex cards, chewed on pens, eyes growing distant, texts left on read, ink over his heart for his maman, naps under campus oak trees, flasks sipped in a lecture hall, hands on hips, backs, and his own throat.

➺ but what is in a name?

➺ { Alexandre } : The french translation of Alexander. Defender of Man. The irony of a name is not lost on him, nor the man who’d held it. He was named for his maternal grandfather, a man who had sold his soul (and his eldest daughter) for money, power, name, all under the guise of the importance of family. A name meaning man of honor. Certainly a strong name for a boy who’d been born to rule a soiled throne, but content to find ways to sneak sweets from the kitchen, trick a smile from his mother as she stared out the window yet again. But defenders are not born, no.They are made, and from the moment blue eyes opened for the first time he was destined to be just that. Made. Into his father’s visions, his mother’s dreams. And Xandre is no fool. All he wants — no, rather. All he desires from life is simple. Everything.

➺ { Henri } Ruler of households. Once again nothing but irony for a boy who grew up wanting for nothing in life, but knowing the expectations were to be just that. A leader. Who would be the one to tell him that the throne he was set to rest upon was built on the blood and bones of the lesser fortunate? More importantly, who would teach him to care?

➺ { Preston } Meaning priest, settlement, enclosures of God. Carried to England from Normandy after the great conquest. A name befitting to the family who in some circles considered themselves holier than most. Gods among men. Who turned whiskey to gold, words to bank notes, and blood into power. If you were a Preston, people knew it. And what could be better than that?

➺ for he is the devil in every detail

➺ ( + ) He was a boy of pressed shirts and dark windswept waves. Blue eyes that sparkled of mischief and peels of laughter that echoed down marbled halls. He was Alexandre Preston, a boy with the stars in his eyes and the world at his feet. Who when he smiled, his entire face lit from within and led to that hint of the devil sparkling just so from that gaze of his. Who smelled of citrus and whiskey and a bite of mint. Who adored beauty, in life and what it had to offer him. A man who’d grown into his looks and was taught by a wise mother just how to use them, a well placed kiss to a cheek or brush of skin, eyes meeting across a room enough to give them what they desired and more than ever, what he craved. He was tall, dark and oh so handsome, and knew how to get just what he wanted. Born with his father’s intellect and drive for more, padded by his mother’s beauty and ability to wield it for the weapon it could be. It made him anything but a bore, a useless first son too afraid to grasp what was before him. No, Xandre knew his fate. But in the meantime, he lived his life how he chose. If dearest dad was none the wiser, well. What’s the harm?

➺ ( + ) But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we? Born on a warm evening in late july, Alexandre Henri was destined to be the only child of Simon Preston and Violette Dupont. A product of two passionate individuals and a loveless marriage, Xandre’s mother was the eldest daughter to a man of debt. The Dupont family had in name what they lacked in capital and with a marriage between Violette and Simon, had everything to gain. Xandre’s birth was a bright burst of fleeting color for a mother who felt caged into the world she’d sold herself to, doting on the little boy and doing what she could to leave him with a part of her, a piece of her own waning soul. Where Simon was boastful, she was wicked, demure. Where he was aggression, she was soft sighs and whispered curses. Two sides of what lead to be a machiavellian son. Destined to rule with a gilded fist and fleeting, passionate heart.

➺ ( + ) He was put into lessons as a boy to dwindle that energy that thrummed with his every step, sports and arts and languages but they were fleeting moments of time, hobbies cast aside once the obsessive grip of his mind released them. But his mother’s love of piano rang true to his blood, picking up the instrument even with some difficulty. It bothered him so, to have something he couldn’t master with minimal effort. It required a honed drive, a passion and ethic to create something magnificent through nothing more than hard work. It fueled him, the boy almost manic with the late hours he spent alone in the sun room, fingers dancing along keys and cursing with every missed note. As he grew, so did the realization that it was not something you could master. The great composers themselves went mad with trying. It was a never ending race, and one he still holds steadfast this very day. It is as much a part of him as anything could be. Alexandre is meant to be a leader, Alexandre blows thousands on parties and card games, Alexandre needs music like air to rattling lungs. His current double major at Ashcroft is a direct result. If he’s to live out this new version of day to day, he’ll do as he pleases. As long as his father remains where he belongs, ignorant as the rest are.

➺ ( + ) if music was a stronghold, most everything else in his world was a passing fancy, aimless ways to spend time and money and have fun in this life he was so destined to lead. High school meant parties and fun, learning the intricacies of the body and passion as girls and boys alike came and went from white rumbled sheets. For his mother had taught him to wield beauty for what it was; a weapon. And oh, did he learn with the best. A university career begun at Oxford (if only to spite his father), where the real fun began, nights spent in club after club until the sun rose again, liquor fueled nights of passion and fun, barred from certain clubs and embraced at others, heavyweight card games and street races with a bottle of dom in hand. Started a gambling ring in his dorm hall until the RA caught wind a year later. (But he eventually joined, so no harm no foul) He was at an all time high, never fearing the inevitable crash to follow. He welcomed it like an old friend, navigated the highs and lows with a long learned finesse. Now in Edinburgh, he chases the residual high with his normal vigor, finding drinking buddies to waste an evening with, occasional bodies to slip into his too high thread count sheets.

➺ ( + ) The very definition of love ‘em and leave ‘em. Xandre doesn’t do true relationships, has never truly given his heart to someone in any form. He doesn’t believe in it, the type of love that makes people do such foolish things. He does foolish things just fine on his own, heart be damned. He can be passionate, charming, attentive lover at the best of times, possessive fool at the worst of times. He loves to feel desired, wanted, needed even. But never aims to be someone’s entire world. That type of need, that type of love does nothing but wound. And every wound he will ever have will be of his own creation. Has had more than a few flings, even reoccurring instances of women or men a few times in a row. But the connections are shallow, surface deep. You don’t need to witness his soul to get into his bed, afterall.

➺ ( + ) It was all a beautiful distraction from the blood that stained every letter of his name. His cousin was allowed to live in blessed ignorance of the family means, but Xandre, he was thrown headfirst into the lion’s den and came out grinning, the truth of it never leaving past blood stained lips. He isn’t resentful of that fact. A part of him feels it was always meant to be this way. If his cousins were the sun, he was the endless night, the whispers of shadows and secrets meant to withstand. For he could take it, surely. Right?

➺ ( + ) while his fate may be anything but up for debate, he is anything but a too willing participant. Being at Oxford meant enough distance to gain a bit of the freedom he craved. The night his father was arrested, Alexandre was doing what was normal, even on a tuesday evening. Partying at a local hotspot four bottles deep in champagne and whiskey, pills pressed to lips in between fevered kisses of a woman who’s name escaped him the next morning. Sweetened black coffee in hand as he watched his phone buzz over and over, the news blaring the headline of what he’d always known would come to fruition. But his father was still kicking, and so the heavy head who bears the crown was not yet his own. So he went about his day, his week, his months. Until, octavia.

➺ ( + ) his cousins were the siblings he’d never had, and for a man who doesn’t truly believe in intricacies of love he loves them with all he has in him. Wolfie the brother he’d craved, the two stirring trouble with every laugh as they raced down the cavernous halls of their homes. Days spent listening to his whispered dreams, his own a hollow echo in response to the passion that thrummed from his cousin’s. The lectures of his poor influence never bothered him, his role had always been rather set after all. The shadow to the sun. Was he ever to be a leader? Possibly. But he was never born of the responsibility and dreams that lingered over his cousin, never expected to amount to anything rather spectacular beyond the built business reputation and blood that soaked the name Preston. He was too impulsive, too passionate to have it beaten from his bones, just always a little too much.

➺ ( + ) And Octavia – she held a special place in his heart. Daddy’s little girl, it was easy to see how she could bat her lashes and smile her smile and let the world fall at her feet. He admired it, respected it even. Game always has to appreciate the game. She and her brother leaving for Ashcroft was a blow he hadn’t anticipated, for they’d always had one another, the two musketeers and the girl who fought to be anything but a shadow. It was an unfamiliar ache, missing them. And with Octavia now gone, that ache has grown tenfold. Morphed into anger for what he knew she was up to, for somehow somewhere, she’d pissed off the wrong people to where even the Preston name couldn’t quite save her soul. But her essence is everywhere, haunting the halls and whispering in ears. It’s all so very dramatic, so very her. He’d pour one out for her if he didn’t think she’d simper about his distaste for wasted wine. Her spirit was a mild comfort, a balm over a roughened wound. a bigger amusement than anything, a middle finger to those who’d ended her bright existence. A Preston knew how to fuck you over, that was made all the more clear with each report of her sightings. And god, did he love her for it.

➺ ( + ) and that at the very crux of it all, is what has brought him to ashcroft. A new scene for parties, new faces, and a remaining cousin who could use a shoulder to lean on. & those all look lovely on paper, but the fine print? Always read it carefully. For the smiles and charm are all Violette without a doubt. But the danger that lingers, the passion and fire that fuel his soul and border on the precipice of mania? Alexandre is Simon Preston’s son, that was never to be denied for long. And someone has wronged them all, taken things they had no right to take. Someone he considered to be a part of his heart. He doesn’t take kindly to such things, and so to Ashcroft he’s come. He is passion, recklessness, a hidden grief fueled by fleeting love wrapped in a shiny veneered package. He’s here to revel, to discover, to maybe even punish. If deemed necessary. Blood will always be blood, and for a man who’s always willing to go a little too far? It is all that remains.

➺ ( + ) as for what has qualified him for such a prestigious society upon his enrollment well, that is a mystery to some and a hard headline to others. His family’s connections? His relation to Wolfie? His letters of transfer from his classical composition professors back in London? As far as Xandre is concerned, it’s nothing more than a certain Oberon Ashcroft seeing he has a role to play, and one he plays rather well. Unassuming at first, a disarming charm soothing the blunt edges of his words. He says what he feels, and what he knows must be said. And due to that, he knows his worth, what he brings to the table. Knows how poorly it would look if he hadn’t been inducted. He brings a good time, a laugh, a chance to rebel against the societal norms and oppressions that leak from every pore of Ashcroft. But he also brings a weighted name, a wicked ability to decipher through the purple prose people can preach, to the truth at the core of it all. And he plays a mean Chopin, what can he say?

➺ ( + ) there is no way to wrap up all that he is, to summarize a man who is nothing short of a dichotomy, a symphony in fractured parts. Perhaps a jekyll and hyde of his own making, two heads of the same beast he wielded within his soul. for there was something to be said of being seen, eyes drawn to your every move, to feel the power of being adored, desired, craved. He is the devil on your shoulder, crooning saccharine words and screaming in triumph in a breadth. A gleam of mania tinging those baby blues when he pushes just so to get his way. He is that very symphony, a concerto who’s pace continues to drive faster and faster, upward and onward until its very PEAK, a cacophony of beauty and agony as notes ring out, clash, COLLIDE. and then, the briefest moment of silence. He has discovered the distractions his body can wield, but also the power to be found in stillness, in silence. At his lowest he craves it, aches to be surrounded by masses just once more to drown out the roaring in his mind, to draw it to ecstasy, to blissful silence. All leading up to the final, ringing note. Before the applause, of course. never deny yourself the applause. That had always been Lesson One.

➺ A LETTER TO OCTAVIA:

Tavia —

Where do I start? You always knew how to make an entrance, tav. should’ve figured your exit would be the same. But…why the fuck wouldn’t you call me? Why wouldn’t you tell me the extent of just how bad shit had gotten so quickly? You knew no matter what I said, or how I complained or warned you off to be careful I would’ve been there in a heartbeat. You didn’t have to do this alone. I should’ve seen that and come the first time you called. Don’t haunt me for that. And that police chief mentioned a baby, Tav. You never– me of all people would have understood. You were the only one I ever told about Clara, how my dad paid her off. You never judged me for him, you understood. Let me get wasted and cry it out in that shitty suite in London. We could have made a club of it, you and me. Poor little Rich kids with secret kids. Poetic, no? Poetic justice is bullshit in hindsight. And I just really, really miss you.

I’m sure everyone in these letters are telling you the reasons they adored you, how they’ll never forget you, the wild memories they’re sharing with you, that they say they’ll never forget. I don’t need to say all those things. You know I do, and you know I won’t forget. You’re a part of my heart, as battered and shriveled as we liked to joke it is. But apparently death makes us sentimental fools, so here’s this for you, because it’s 4am and the memory won’t leave my mind no matter how many times I close my eyes. That summer we spent, all of us, vacationing in that house on the riviera. Remember? I spent the day running around the grounds with Wolf and we’d laugh and tease like elder brothers do when you’d seek us out, pouting those lips and crocodile tears until we included you in our games. But when the sun set and dinner was long gone, you’d drag me into the tea room with that baby grand in the corner and demanded I play. You always were a determined thing, you brat. But you’d smile that smile and even I couldn’t fight the urge to sit and play your favorites.You sang along and danced and danced and danced until you were breathless with it. Only you could make dancing to britney fuckin’ spears look like an artform you know? You’d call me your co-star, and never let me hate myself for the mistakes, never laughed if I stumbled on a note. You were my biggest supporter that summer, but I was only one of your many adoring fans. That’s how it was supposed to be. That won’t change, I promise.

( A few tears stain the edges of that previous paragraph, angry, bitter droplets that he wipes away and slips the paper further to defend the onslaught of them. He sighs deeply, clears his throat. )

And look at you now, huh? Haunting your friends and your brother with the best of ‘em. Leave it to you to find a way to remain the star of the show even in death. I can see how it’s unravelling them. The ones who look too pale to be innocent, everyone here has a fucking secret. Thanks to you maybe we’ll see them all sooner than later. And what fun that’s gonna be. But do me a favor and haunt some hot freshman for me, will you? Whisper sweet nothings of my beauty in their ears, make it a good one. I’ll owe you one. You know I’m good for it.

I’ll watch over Wolfie. Of course I will. I’ll get him piss drunk at that club you mentioned last time we talked, bring a few lines and a bottle of dom all just for you, gorgeous. I’m here now for him, for you. I’m here for what I should have done from the beginning. If you had to leave him —had to leave us, it won’t be for nothing.

I miss you, cherie. Visit me tonight in my dreams, alright? You can dance for me, I’ll play you a song.

We’ll make it a happy one, for old times sake.

-Xandre

#spectreintro #𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔵𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔦 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫 ╱ 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 .#if you read this whole thing ur a god and i am sorry

11 notes · View notes

s-j-ace · 4 years

Text

The Same Question

Chapter Five

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10600

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief do what he does?

This is Chapter Five, Here are Chapters One, Two, Three, and Four

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Maki Harukawa’s Cellular Device]

From: idiot #1

Hey Makiroll <3

How was your flight?

From: Me

Good

Well

You know

I was on an eight hour flight

So that was never going to go well

But I just got to the apartment and I made some tea

So I’m good now

It’s nice to be home

From: idiot #1

Haha I bet

Man I wish I could be home to greet you!

I’d give you a big hug and kiss right now if I could!!!!!!

From: Me

Gross

From: idiot #1

From: Me

…

If you were here right now I’d tell you I love you with my words

Like an adult

From: idiot #1

What no kiss?

From: Me

Maybe a small one

From: idiot #1

From: Me

If you’ve shaved

From: idiot #1

From: Me

I gotta wean you off kisses kaito

That way you won’t have to go cold turkey right away when you go on your big trip

From: idiot #1

My big trip?

Lol, you make it sound like I’m just going overseas or something

From: Me

Well space is treated as international waters by most countries

From: idiot #1

I guess that’s true?

Hey!!

That’s a space fact!

Maki Roll!!!!

From: Me

Shhushhhh

From: idiot #1

From: Me

Oh hey

Speaking of big trips

Have you heard from Shuichi at all?

I’m concerned that he may be mad at me

From: idiot #1

Whaaaaat

Why would shuichi be mad at you

From: Me

Well

I didn’t back up his clowns stealing toilets from the louvre thing

And then clowns stole toilets from the louvre

I’m worried he may feel as though I’ve gaslit him

Or something

From: idiot #1

What

How did you know about the toilets

From: Me

It was in the news?

Wait, so you heard a different way?

From: idiot #1

From: Me

So you have heard from him

From: idiot #1

Oh yeah

I don’t think he’s mad at you

He’s pretty preoccupied with the clowns I think

And besides you know

My sidekick isn’t really the type of guy who like

Gets mad

He’s more likely to like

Think you’re mad at him

And then be mad at himself for making you mad

From: Me

Shuichi gets mad sometimes

I saw him punch a guy once

And he listens to those songs that are just people screaming endlessly about hating other people

From: idiot #1

Yeah but he cries while doing that

Also I meant like

He wouldn’t get mad at you like that

Because you’re friends

From: Me

Yeah

You’re probably right

I still want to go visit him tomorrow

Say I’m.. sorry? Or something

Is this the kind of stuff that apologies are for?

From: idiot #1

Well I mean like

If you feel bad like by all means feel free to let him know

But Shuichi probably doesn’t think it’s a big deal

From: Me

Yeah but I still want to

From: idiot #1

Also I don’t think visiting him would be super productive

As far as I can tell he isn’t back from his trip yet

From: Me

What

But it’s been a month since he left

Isn’t he bored of Paris yet

From: idiot #1

No I think he’s like

Going other places too

From: Me

wym

Like, he’s doing a tour of europe?

That sounds nice

From: idiot #1

No I think it's more like

He’s still on the case

Cuz last week he was in Taiwan

And the week before that he was in Egypt

And some robberies happened there

From: Me

So he didn’t take my vacation advice at all huh

From: idiot #1

Yea I guess not

But hey

Not giving up is a good thing!!

From: Me

But what if you need to give up something that’s hurting you

Like smoking or murdering or drinking or overworking yourself because you equate productivity to self-worth

From: idiot #1

Then don’t give up on trying to get better!!!! You gotta believe in the best version of yourself

From: Me

|:/

Is he at least going to take a break long enough to come home and see you off

From: idiot #1

From: Me

Maybe I could text him to remind him and casually slip in the fact that I may be a little bit sorry that I thought he was insane

I mean obviously he’ll want to come see you before you go

You did tell him right

Kaito

...

You forgot to tell him

From: idiot #1

Well I don’t know about forgot

It’s more like

There was never really a good time? To tell him?

From: Me

…

I’m changing your contact back to number one idiot in my phone

From: #1 idiot

Ouch

Will you change it back if I tell him today?

From: Me

Maybe

Do you even know where he is?

From: #1 idiot

…

From: Me

… well you better find him before I change your contact to “best friend loser”

From: #1 idiot

Implying that I’m your best friend and a loser or implying that I lost our best friend to the thrill of chasing a group of fiendish clowns

From: Me

Both

From: #1 idiot

Okay okay I’m already texting him --- Shuichi Saihara spent the start of his day awkwardly trying to fit in with the rest of the people sitting in the front row of the exceedingly fancy audience at the first show of fashion week in Milan, Italy. He knew he should technically feel exceedingly lucky that he even got into the show, let alone that he got one of the very expensive front row seats. The Milan fashion week people were certainly the most cooperative of any potential DICE targets he had tried to warn previously. Probably because Shuichi made sure not to just send the warning through Interpol this time, and the fashion people actually cared about their careers enough to take the threat of a break in seriously. Except, Shuichi wasn't sure all the security should be placed around the stages and dresses like they were. The most typically valuable item on sight was never really DICE's MO.

That's why he was here, wasn't it?

In the front row. With all these strangers. Who were giving him weird looks. Did that lady just whisper to her friend while looking directly at him? Wait no, don't look at them. Or maybe do look at them? What if they were DICE members who only just spotted him? Right, right, all these people were suspects. Job before social anxiety Shuichi.

Refocused, Shuichi made some observations around him. He scanned the crowd, but didn't see any of the DICE members he would recognize. He did see that security guards had been helpfully placed by the doorways. He wondered if any of them were interpol agents. If they were, it wasn’t anyone he knew. Probably for the best anyway. Agent Ishimaru was mostly likely still pretty steamed at him. He hadn’t been letting Shuichi look at the notes DICE sent to Interpol, even though their team didn’t seem to have as much luck translating them as Shuichi had in the past.

Wait, there was one entrance wasn’t there? Maybe he should watch it? After all, there was no guarantee that DICE wouldn't just walk right in. Like they did in Nevada. And Cairo. But weirdly not Taipei? It seemed like they had abandoned whatever they were going to use Doctor Iruma’s EMP bombs for after failing to get them... Or were the bombs the heist after all and DICE had just waited for him to leave Taiwan to carry out the heist and actually weren’t in Milan at all and Shuichi was a big old idiot? No, they had to be in Milan, he had seen the airport tapes and done the research. But were they at the show? If they weren’t that’d be good news for the next season of fashion, but probably not for Shuichi’s case...

Ok, he just had to make sure that even if they were here nothing got stolen. What was he saying? Oh, yeah. Just walking in was probably less likely here, with all the security and all.

But wasn't it just like DICE to pick the path less likely than one would expect?

As the intro music cued in to the beginning of the fashion show and the house lights dimmed, all Shuichi really knew was that he should be ready for anything.

Two spotlights did a bit of a dance on the catwalk before they too faded and the whole room was pitch black.

There was a moment of silence.

…

And another.

…

And… another…

…

People started murmuring in the crowd.

Shuichi heard some English lady say, "What, do they expect us to have night vision?"

"It's all part of the show, dearest," said the woman next to her.

Shuichi thought for a second.

…

And another.

…

And a-

…

They stole the lights didn't they. --- Kokichi Ouma had to be honest with himself, as he continued on his circuitous route throughout the vents which overlooked the first show of fashion week in Milan, stealing all the lights from this year’s venue wasn’t very inspired. He was essentially reusing the Taipei 101 idea that hadn’t come to fruition, but Queen had insisted he needed a powerful light for his next project and the rest of DICE seemed to have formed some sort of blood pact to support whatever his next heist idea was as long as he didn’t make them watch the cinematic masterpiece Cats (2019) at their last movie night.

Kokichi himself hadn’t actually seen Cats (2019) yet. He kept reminding himself to, after hearing of its reported cursedness, but he just hadn’t gotten around to it. DICE had watched it for the first time without him, and now every time Queen brought it up Kokichi felt obligated to shut him down for the sake of maintaining his own authority. “Now Queen, obviously I love Cats (2019) directed by Tom Hooper and starring Franceska Hayward, as a fellow enthusiast of the cinematic arts, but for the sake of everyone else…” Cue eight sighs of relief courtesy of your one and only super awesome boss.

While thinking absentmindedly about his and the cinematic masterpiece Cats (2019)’s passing like two ships in the night, Kokichi checked where all his pieces should be on his internal chessboard. The locations of four fake guards, two fake handymen, and three vent crawlers popped up on the schematics he had memorized of the event hall. All busy dismantling lighting equipment or keeping an eye on a certain detective.

The word detective sent a third train of thought spiraling. Saihara really had shown up, hadn’t he? Kokichi hadn’t even sent a note this time and the detective was already here in the front row of the audience. That was probably the main reason Kokichi felt it was fair to upcycle the same plan from Taipei. Usually he’d get bored of an idea after tossing it around for a bit, so he had to act fast before his own lack of motivation became his undoing, but with Saihara around he didn’t have to worry about entertaining himself with his plans. Whatever the detective would do in response was bound to be far more interesting.

Okay he was almost in position for the first hit, and Ace was about to cause the black out in 5… 4… 3…

Oup, the light already turned off. Now Kokichi was just shuffling through the dark old vent getting ready to drop down and steal the lights from whatever room was beneath him while counting to himself about nothing and having three incongruous trains of thought at the same time.

The reason behind Kokichi’s super special secret ability to be thinking about three things at once was that A) he was a genius and 1) he was still on a sugar high from the gelato that he and his hench people had gotten for breakfast, and everyone knows sugar make brain work good.

Also! Gelato is just like… Ice Cream ++. Just like, better ice cream. It was just smooth and creamy instead of cold and chunky all the time. Kokichi could eat a lot more of it without getting a brain freeze than the regular stuff, and he wanted to get as much of it in him as possible before they left Italy forever. He’d ‘reluctantly’ promised they’d get some more to celebrate after the heist was done, but it was mostly because when they were plotting their escape he didn’t want to deal with a sugar cr-

*CREEEEAAAAAAK*

No, a crash, silly vent making a stupid noise, a sugar cra-

*CRACKOOM*

That was the last sound Kokichi heard before the ceiling crumbled beneath him. --- Shuichi Saihara realized that, by all means, the black out was rather clever. It completely stifled any immediate action on the part of an investigator. Even if Shuichi was right and it was the stage lights that were stolen, waiting to confirm the fact would only give the thieves more time to escape. He’d probably be able to bumble around in the dark searching for the entrance, but then what?

Then his phone buzzed.

Oh. Duh. He thought.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, swiping aside whatever thing Kaito had just sent him to access his phone’s flashlight feature.

"Lights!" He shouted. "Use your cellphones as lights!"

He repeated these directions once more in the best Italian he could manage, hoping he sounded authoritative enough to garner a response.

There was a great shuffling all around him as the audience muttered and reached for their phones.

Then, as Shuichi turned on his own phone's flashlight and raised it up, he watched everyone in the audience do the same. Hundreds of little lights flickered on around him, the image of the runway becoming clearer every second.

As if that were their planned cue all along, the first models began to strut down the catwalk, every glitzy gown and sparkly suit seemingly illuminated by a thousand stars in the night sky. The audience oohed and aahed, and maybe Shuichi would've found the sight pretty cool too if he hadn't been looking up at an entirely different catwalk altogether. The lighting deck above had apparently been stripped bare during the black out. Shuichi knew that both sides of that catwalk let out to the heavily guarded backstage area. So where did DICE go?

Wait… were those horizontal air vents over the catwalk?

Shuichi started making his way over to the security guards near the exit.

God, when would architects of security systems ever learn? Why would you ever put a horizontal vent right above whatever it is you're trying to not get stolen? It's child's play! Any thief with at least one limb or a very ambitious set of teeth could steal something with a horizontal vent over it, and yet no one ever thought to check them until it was too late!

When he reached the guards he said hurriedly in a low tone, “We need to check the vents right now.”

Both guards gave him weird looks and Shuichi felt his confidence immediately wither.

“Parla solo italiano.” Said the guard to the right with the long dark brown hair tied in a tight bun. Speak only Italian. Shit.

Uh. Okay. Um.

“I ladri hanno... colpito,” Okay, ladri means thieves. Yeah. Uh. Was colpito the right word? Maybe? It sounded like culprit. What was the word for air vent again... “Controllare l'uscita… dell'aria!” Yeah! It was dell’aria. Okay. Good. Italian spoken.

Except now she was giving him an even weirder look.

“Cosa hai detto signore? Lardo hanno colpito? Qualcuno sta lanciando lardo tra il pubblico? Lardo nelle prese d'aria?”

Ah. Uh. That was a lot of words. Cosa… hai detto… what did you say sir. And then. Something about lard?

“Lardo….” Had she not heard him correctly through the loud music of the show happening behind them? His eyes wandered to the other guard, a man about the same height as the woman with the same dark brown hair color. Both guards were wearing sunglasses, but the man’s face suddenly scrunched with obvious anger.

“Hey! Are you calling me fat?” He accused with no hint of Italian accent.

… What? Why would he… Unless…

The woman cracked her knuckles. “Ti faccio vedere dov'è il lardo, ragazzo duro.”

Before Shuichi could even begin to decipher what that meant, the woman put him in a headlock.

DICE . Shuichi realized as the man took a cloth out of his pocket. Shuichi smelled the sweet, familiar scent of a volatile anesthetic. Probably chloroform or something of the sort….

Luckily this wasn’t the first time Shuichi had been in a headlock, and she wasn’t even holding a knife to his neck. He tucked his chin into the arm restraining him, holding it with his right hand as he brought his left up and over the front of her face. In one smooth motion he flipped her over on her back.

Officer Chabashira had taught him that. Tenko had been one of his better friends on the force. Though she spent most of her time beating up other cops for being misogynist pigs than catching criminals. Then again that strong sense of justice was something Shuichi actually liked about her. He hadn’t seen much of her after she quit the force, though. He heard she opened a studio for something called “neo-aikido” but had been too afraid of too many things, like that she wouldn’t recognize him and that things would be awkward and then she would yell at him for being a degenerate male, to check it out. It was probably for the best anyway. If she were here right now, she’d definitely yell at him for betraying the number one rule of her aikido teachings...

“Shuichi don’t use neo-aikido on girls. If a girl tries to kill you, you deserve it.”

Said “girl” trying to kill him landed in a roll, and probably would have tried to grapple him again if she hadn’t crashed into a nearby audience member.

Shuichi made a break for the exit. He expected to be intercepted by the other guard, but the man turned instead to help up his partner.

“You okay, sis?” He asked concernedly.

“I’d be better if you weren’t letting him get away, lo stupido!” She replied tartly and also, Shuichi noted, without much accent.

He managed to get through the doors and found that the guards that had been assigned to stand outside the entrance were no longer there. That meant that he would most likely have to find his way backstage by going around the building if he wanted back up, so he started running.

He’d probably have to shake his tails first, he reminded himself as the doors burst open again behind him.

Shuichi changed course, making a couple of quick turns. Around the corner near the exit he saw the sign for the men’s bathroom. Of course! The bathroom! There would definitely be a vent outlet in the bathroom.

He opened the door and quickly ducked in. He hoped that the DICE members wouldn’t follow him in before he got to the-

Shuichi froze.

The scene that lay before him was one familiar to him since childhood, but yet every time he saw it he hoped to never see it again.

A body was sprawled face down on the bathroom tile, blood splattered on the ground all around the head. Shuichi realized that he recognized the blood soaked hair’s strange purple color, although it seemed to be tied back for some reason… He looked up at what was apparently a hole in the ceiling and deduced that the thief had been crawling through the vents when he fell. The rubble on the ground around him seemed to confirm that. Shuichi…. Shuichi couldn’t tell if he was breathing from here.

What a way to end the thief’s crime spree...

He willed himself to put one foot in front of the other. Then he did so again. Then he got over his shock and walked up to the body. These things get easier, he reminded himself.

Shuichi kneeled down to take a look, careful not to contaminate any of the blood spatter with his shoes. There… really was a lot of blood. There were no obvious signs of breathing…

Okay. Shuichi needed to check the pulse to see if he should call an ambulance. Maybe there was still a chance…

He reached for the man’s wrist-

The man suddenly sprung up, thrusting his huge grinning, and now blood covered, clown mask into Shuichi’s personal space. “It’s a lie!” He exclaimed

Shuichi startled, falling on the floor. Shock ran through him as the thief began to cackle his signature laugh.

“Did I surprise you?” He teased, blood pouring down his mask, “Were you going to scream and cry in terror?”

Shuichi looked at him in shock for a solid ten seconds. The thief in return looked at him, leaning back and forth a little dazedly. Shuichi watched a drop of blood separate itself from the man’s chin, going to join the puddle on the floor.

“Oh, sorry…” The man disrupted the silence. “I should be saying something real witty just about now… I’m just a little light-headed from the blood loss. Yeah. This is. This is real blood.”

Then the shock was over and Shuichi found himself reacting by standing up, grabbing the thief, and putting him in a standard police academy arm lock on the ground. As much as the move required speed, Shuichi tried to be mindful of the head wound. He didn’t want to give the thief the chance to escape like his mistake in Taipei had, but he also didn’t want to further injure him.

The man still made a grunt of pain when he hit the ground. “Wow, detective, you’re a lot better at police brutality than you are at dressing for fashion shows.”

Shuichi remembered the people in the front row of the show who had been giving him odd looks. He frowned. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?” He muttered as he tried to figure out how he could hold this guy down and also grab a bandage from his coat pockets. Which were very functional, thank you very much.

“Well, some people might say that the all dark clothing kind of makes you look like an evil villain.” He said with the same dazed tone in his voice. How much blood was he losing? Shuichi couldn’t tell with the mask still on. He moved to take it off-

The door opened and Shuichi saw two security guards come in and Shuichi turned slighty to look at them. Thankfully they weren’t the two from before. Perhaps they had figured out the vents were the escape route already and had come to investigate?

“Like those guys.” The man beneath him muttered on. “They might think black clothing is kinda.. Villain looking. Not me though, I think you look like a sexy motorcycle.”

Shuichi frowned at him. Wow, he sounded very loopy. He was losing a lot of blood.

Shuichi turned to address the guards, who were seemingly frozen in shock. “Scusa... ma potra-no, uh, tresti, potresti chiamare,” what was the gender for ambulance again? “a-ambulanza-”

The woman from before burst in, the other DICE member pretending to be a security guard at her heels. She pointed at Shuichi, exclaiming, “L'uomo in cima a quel brutto bambino è colui che ci ha attaccato!”

“Vroom vroom” The man beneath him giggled out before Shuichi was picked up by the two guards and slammed against the wall.

“Sei sicuro che sia lui?” One of them said to the Italian-speaking DICE member. “Quest'uomo sembra molto debole.”

“Quello è lui. Deve essere uno dei ladri.” She was… calling him one of the thieves? “Sono addestrati in aikido, ricordi l'incontro informativo?”

“Certo, certo.” Said the guard in response, obviously lying. If he had been to the l'incontro informativo - the informational meeting - then he would know who Shuichi was.

“Tu non capisci!” Shuichi exclaimed.

“Stai zitto, straniero.” The other guard shoved him up harder against the wall.

“Boss! What happened to you?” The male DICE member exclaimed.

His “boss” propped himself up on his elbow and swung his legs like a tweenager at a sleepover party. “Well, it’s a funny story! But at this rate I’m going to pass out from blood loss before I tell it to you!” His lackey gave him a concerned look. “Neeheehee… just kidding.”

“Wait I-” Shuichi started to say. The guards shoved him harder against the wall and he winced before going on. “I have some bandages and gauze in my pockets somewhere.”

The DICE members all turned to look at him. The man who had dressed as a guard looked at him hopefully, but the bleeding thief only gave him a blank stare and the woman fixed him with a steely glare.

“Aiuteremo questo piccolo bambino straniero.” She said icily. “Voi due potete prendervi cura del criminale.”

“What can I say Saihara?” The thief muttered as his lackeys helped him up. “Ya.. Ya shouldn't've worn all black to fashion week. Yup. That’s the… That’s the moral here.”

As they shuffled away, Shuichi realized there was nothing he could do. Even if he fought both security guards and managed to escape somehow, it would only prove to them that he really was a threat, and that was aside from the fact that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to capture the thieves on his own. He’d have to wait until they brought him to someone who actually recognized him and by then it would be too late.

The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so.

“... I’ll stop you.” The detective said, resolution clear in his voice.

“I’d like to see you try.” The thief muttered in response.

Then the door shut. --- “Man… You’re really bleeding a lot there, boss…” Clubs muttered as Kokichi buckled himself into the seatbelt of their getaway car. After putting him down in the back seat, Clubs got in next to him, taking his usual spot in the middle seat even though there wasn’t really a need yet. Maybe he was anticipating the arrival of the rest of the group. Or maybe he was just being Clubs. And Clubs always sat in the middle seat. Not because of a reason but because he did. People operated from their own internal self as if the person they constructed from their thoughts and actions was more important to maintain than any law in the land.

Italian cars were… really weird huh? Very smooth… Like, like… Gelato.

“I’m fine.” He said. Ugh how unconvincing. “I’m just... pretending to bleed.”

Clubs frowned at him. “How could you possibly pretend to bleed?”

Kokichi was! Going to come up with a very, very good explanation. As soon as he just… sucked that blood back in… yeah… gelato… they were supposed to get gelato…

“He can’t.” Spades ducked her head into the car. “We need to stop it. Do you have a cloth or anything on you?”

“Only the one…” Kokichi muttered. He was thinking about the kerchief he still had in his pocket from the detective. Not that either Spades or Clubs knew that. They probably just thought he was going crazy. Well fine he didn’t want them to know about it anyway. They’d just get blood on it.

“Here,” Clubs took off his own bandana and put it on Kokichi’s head. “He’s still bleeding.” He reported.

“That’s why we’re taking him to a hospital.” Spades replied, now taking her place in the driver’s seat of the gelato car.

Ugh, what? No.

“You can’t take me to a hospital. It’s the first place they’ll look.” He wasn’t going to let the detective catch him at a hospital of all places… What kind of Phantom Thief got caught in a hospital… Lame… Lamey-lamey-lamooo….

Spades put the key in the car and started it. “Fine. We’ll go to a mafia doctor if we have to.”

Kokichi shook his head and felt the fluids roll around inside and outside of his skull. Part of him wondered if he could just sit in this car forever and bleed out until he died. The other part of him was sure that he was doomed to be immortal. “Nope. You crazy or something? We cannot get mixed up in organized crime. They murder people and we don’t do capitalism. Crime should be disorganized or else-”

“Okay! Fine! We’ll go to a fucking Farmacia and pray that you don’t have a concussion!”

Kokichi snorted. “I can’t have a concussion. I’m too smart.”

Clubs gave him a look. “Boss, do you know what a concussion is?”

Kokichi squinted. He’d only ever seen the word being used by people making fun of jocks on the internet. “Isn’t it like a sports thing?”

“Well, actually,” Clubs said in an informative tone of voice. “It’s a serious brain injury.”

“You listening to your fortnite buddies again?”

“No, we learned that in junior high.”

Hah. School. Lameass. Kokichi never needed school. Who needs school when you have google, video games, and anime?

“I’m a serious brain injury already, I think I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t be, you could die.” Spades was on her phone, probably looking up italian pharmacies.

That would be fine too. Haha. What a good… A good joke… brain…

“I’m just woozy. I need… like a gelato. We’re getting gelato. We gotta wait for the rest of the gang so we can get gelato.”

“No, I texted them, they can all fit in the other car, you need medical attention.

Kokichi frowned. “There’s seven of them. That car’s a five seater.”

“We’re clowns boss.”

Right. Clowns.... Clowns…. Horses.

“Sis, don’t you think we should wait for King? He’s got his nurse certification, so he should be the one to help with injuries.”

Horses?

“No, this is a different kind of thing Clubs, with head injuries you have to act fast. King can catch up to us with the rest.”

Why weren’t there clown horses?

“Boss, don’t fall asleep. Clubs, make sure he stays awake. See if you can find concussion tests online” She handed her brother her phone.

Kokichi imagined a horse in clown makeup… they’d have to make it a real big red nose. Juicy like gelato…

“Boss, stay with us.”

“Only if we’re going to get… get gelato.” --- Shuichi Saihara was still in police custody, locked alone in one of the back rooms of the fashion week venue and wrestling with his own inadequacy, as he often did, when Agent Ishimaru arrived. He was holding a briefcase.

The interpol agent usually announced himself loudly to whatever room he was in, but today he entered quietly, closing the door in that stiff way of his before sitting down at the interrogation table across from Shuichi.

Shuichi expected him to start yelling again.

He didn’t.

Instead he said, “Mr. Saihara. I am disappointed to see you here.”

“... I am too.” Shuichi said after a moment’s pause. “I almost caught the thief today.”

Kiyotaka looked like he was about to say something along the lines of a reprimand, but he paused and took a breath instead. “Perhaps… perhaps you did.”

Shuichi was still trying to piece this together. Was Kiyotaka mad at him or not?

“But, Mr. Saihara, I would ask you to consider…” He paused. He put the briefcase on the table, but didn’t open it. “That it is not your job to catch this thief.”

Shuichi felt indignant at that. But clearly Kiyotaka was going somewhere with this. “... as a detective, I often find it is my job to solve crimes.”

“You-” Kiyotaka grimaced. “I must apologize, Mr. Saihara, for speaking so obtusely. Yet there are some matters of rule violation recently brought to my attention that require me to handle this situation with a delicacy I am not known for.”

Oh… was this about…

“Just tell me the truth.” Shuichi said.

Kiyotaka took another breath.

“Shuichi Saihara, it has recently aggrieved me to know that you have recently been impersonating an interpol officer at crime scenes involving the DICE cases to further your vigilante investigations. Is this true?”

Vigilante was a little harsh…

“Yes.” Shuichi replied honestly. “I have been asking local law enforcement for access to flight records and airport security information in order to track down DICE--” Kiyotaka visibly tensed at this admission, but Shuichi kept going, “--but I sent every piece of info I’ve uncovered to your team. I know that it’s against your protocol to respond to them, but I’ve been right every time and-”

“And to some that could be very suspicious.” Ishimaru finished for him.

Shuichi grew wary. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Ishimaru sighed. “Do you know the name Kyosuke Munakata?”

“Yes.” Shuichi replied. “Isn’t he the new Secretary General?”

“Yes. The officer in charge of our day-to-day practice. He is my direct superior.” Ishimaru began opening the suitcase, which had two simple latches sealing it shut. He took out a small white envelope and handed it to Shuichi. “This is from him.”

Shuichi took the envelope and looked it over. There was no address on the outside, or stamp, or anything really. Just a foil laminate seal, with two characters interlaced stylistically in it. “未” and “来.” Future.

“You do not need to open it here.” Ishimaru went on. “But I can tell you what it says, if you want.”

Shuichi set the letter down on the table, “What does it say?” he asked.

“If what my superior has told me is to be believed, it is an offer of employment.”

What.

His disbelief must have shown on his face, because when Ishimaru kept going he acknowledged, “I was just about as surprised as you. To see my superior want to reward a rule breaker such as yourself… but then he explained it to me like this. He said, ‘If that young man was able to use our resources to such consistent efficiency, then he should see no problem with transparently putting his methods towards our cause. But if he is not so transparent and refuses our offer, well then we have reason to suspect his intent in this case.’”

Shuichi blinked. Really?

“You’re saying that… the Secretary General suspects that I’m in league with DICE.”

“That is correct.”

"But I-"

"Frankly I do not agree with Secretary General Munakata's deduction."

That was… some relief at least.

"I think that you will refuse this opportunity because, despite your tendency to believe the law does not apply to you simply because you don't believe in it, you are a good detective."

That was… not not where Shuichi thought that sentence would go.

Ishimaru pulled a chunky manilla folder out of the briefcase next. And then another one. And another. And… yeah he ended up pulling out five overflowing manilla folders.

"Do you know what this is?"

"... No."

"This is a print out of the files we have on you."

"What?" They had files? About him? What was he, an international security threat?

Oh… Maybe that was what Ishimaru had just finished telling him wasn’t it...

"Each of these files is a year since you joined the Towa city police force." Ishimaru gestured towards two slightly thicker files. "And these are the two years after you quit." He riffled the papers coming out of the side of one of the folders with his thumb. "Each packet of paper in these outlines a specific contribution you have made to getting a case solved. Everything from missing kids to the Novoselic Diamond case."

Oy vey...

"There's about forty or so cases in each of these files. That means you solve, on average, forty cases in a year. That's about three cases every month."

That wasn't so much. It wasn’t uncommon for Shuichi to be looking into more than one case at once. Except this month…

"This month you've solved zero cases.” Ishimaru seemed to read Shuichi’s mind, but the statistics hit him like a knife to the chest when read aloud. “You've been too busy doing what? Chasing a troupe of clowns who nab the occasional toilet or light fixture?"

… ouch.

"I don't mean to be harsh, Mr. Saihara, I really don't. You'll have to forgive my tone. But these DICE guys simply aren't worth your time. A month spent chasing them is a month you could use to much better effect on a different case. One involving the safety of children or national treasures, rather than the carpets of closing museums."

Ishimaru paused, letting Shuichi absorb what he just said. Then he started placing the folders back in the briefcase.

"So, Mr. Saihara, I think that I may be able to get my superior off your back, but only under two conditions."

He closed the lid of the case.

"The first being that you reveal to us in detail whatever method you have used to divine DICE's machinations from airport documents."

He closed the latch on the right of the briefcase.

"And the second being that you return home effective immediately and cut all ties with this case."

He closed the latch on the left.

"Do you find issue with these terms?"

His usually active hands found a resting place atop the case.

“...”

“Well?”

Shuichi couldn't quite understand how he had gotten here. In his head, until this moment, it really had seemed like he had been doing the right thing. He remembered that when he first latched onto the DICE case he had managed to keep it on the back burner while he dealt with the cases of clients. It had struck him as odd that a string of high scale robberies such as theirs would go unchecked for so long, going back five years or more. It hinted, to him at least, at a missing factor. Perhaps each hit was a calculated strike paid for by a foreign government, or a scheme funded by an underground criminal organization, or perhaps just another play at developing a network of untraceable capital to benefit a small group of people. Yet when was the last time Shuichi had spent any serious time looking into those connections?

It occured to Shuichi, then, that perhaps his ego was behind the wheel of the past month or so, when he'd spent the majority of his time exclusively tracking down DICE. Instead of actually assessing the threat that DICE posed, if any at all, he wasted time tracking down where they would strike next. To do what, catch them in the act? He didn't have the power to arrest them if he did. Even now, when he was closer than ever, all he had done was worsen his already tenuous relationship with the international police. The only plausible motive behind his own actions was that he investigated DICE simply because he knew that he could and he thought that he could do it better than anyone else.

But that wasn't true, was it?

He might think he was especially clever, but as soon as he revealed his methods that special cleverness would run out.

And he was tired, wasn't he? His head was perpetually sore, his eye sockets ached, and his limbs were weighed down by a the familiar slowness of a confused circadian rhythm anytime he didn't have a cup of coffee in his hand.

What Ishimaru had just done with the case files felt like an intervention. Like when TV nutritionists would show someone how many Coca-Colas they drank a month by building a tower of cans or filling a swimming pool with them in order to stop that person from drinking so many Coca-Colas… except Shuichi's Coca-Colas were investigative contributions to criminal offenses.

Maki had been right. He needed a break from this case. What kind of detective was he anyway…

Shuichi swallowed the lump forming in his throat and started talking.

"Well the only thing from the airport you need are logs of ticket purchases and the security footage from the gates if those aren't enough. DICE is an organization of ten people, so you're always looking for a bulk purchase of 9 to 10 tickets at the same time, although they can be from different airports... It doesn't matter who the tickets are purchased by or what identities are attributed to them, only that they're purchased at the same time. I say 9 or 10 tickets because sometimes DICE members will infiltrate the flight crew."

"Like in Paris."

"Like in Paris." Shuichi confirmed. "From there you can essentially pin down what flight they're on. Then you can figure out the general vicinity of the next crime… and I think from there is mostly luck."

"I don't believe in luck.” Ishimaru pressed on. “I believe in hard work. I think the same can be said for you."

Haha. Maybe.

Shuichi was hard pressed to think of anything that wasn’t already pretty obvious, though.

"... I suppose if you really cared to, I would think up all the possible targets after some preliminary research and try to warn them. You probably know this already… but DICE's targets have a trend of being rather famous or rather high security locations in big cities. Honestly, though, a lot of my encounters with them were due to chance."

He really wasn’t lying about that. The Paris, Taipei, and Cairo encounters were essentially pure coincidence.

Ishimaru paused, seemingly weighing this information for any fraudulence in his head. Then, he simply nodded. "Very well, Mr. Saihara. Thank you for cooperating with our investigation."

The agent stood, picking up his briefcase. "I hear that you've already given your testimony to the Italian authorities. In truth, however, we expect this case to be wrapped up shortly regardless of the details of this particular robbery, considering the substantial forensic evidence left by the perpetrator of these crimes." That was one way to refer to a pool of blood on the bathroom floor... "Is this of any consolation to you?"

"Yes, some." Shuichi felt the untruth of the statement even as he said it. It wasn’t how he would run the case, if he were in charge. Blood tests were highly unreliable for tracking down a criminal that could be from anywhere in the world, especially in a contaminated place like a bathroom. And if that criminal has never been taken into police custody or gotten blood work done before then the test would be completely useless. As a detective, he’d want to do his due diligence at the crime scene anyway…

… But this wasn’t his case anymore, was it?

Ishimaru took him at his word.

"Very well," He said.

The man pulled out of his pocket a phone, which Shuichi realized to be his own, and handed it to him.

"Your coat and other confiscated items are outside. Feel free to leave at any time."

Ishimaru did a quick bow in lieu of a verbal farewell, leaving the room in an orderly fashion.

After the door shut, Shuichi was in silence again.

He turned on his phone. As the screen lit up, he was greeted by a few messages from Kaito. He remembered, guiltily, swiping them aside when he had taken out his phone before his confrontation with DICE.

Now, he opened them. --- [Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Kaito

Hey Shuichi

How’s it going man

From: Kaito

Are you like chasing clowns right now

Text me when you’re not chasing clowns down

From: Me

I am no longer in the career of chasing clowns down

From: Kaito

Oh shit for real??

Did you catch them?

From: Me

I was just asked not to try to catch them

Very politely

By interpol

From: Kaito

Haha

That’s my sidekick

Making the international police scared for their jobs every day of the week

From: Me

That’s a funny way to look at it...

From: Kaito

Hey don’t be blue about it Shuichi

You got off the clown catching clock at a good time

If you catch a flight home sometime this week you could come with us to the open house at JAXA on friday!

From: Me

Oh is that this friday?

Man I totally

Spaced

On that

From: Kaito

Aklsjdfasflkdj

Since when do you do puns

From: Me

I would be fine if you deleted those messages actually

From: Kaito

Too late I already sent that to Maki

From: Me

:( rude

From: Kaito

She says she’s disappointed in both of us now lol

From: Me

Haha that sounds like Maki

why would she be disappointed in you tho lol

From: Kaito

There might be something I forgot to tell you

From: Me

What?

From: Kaito

Do you remember when we were in DC

I had to go to NASA (america’s JAXA basically) and meet with some people

And then I told you I had to tell you something over steak dinner

But then you had to tell me you said you wanted to do a “stake out” not “go out for steak”

And we kind of forgot about it

From: Me

Oh uh

Vaguely?

From: Kaito

Well

The thing i was going to tell you and then forgot to tell you

Is that I’m going on my first mission next week

From: Me

A space mission

From: Kaito

Yeah

Just to the ISS though

I’m gonna be running experiments in the kibo module

For a few months

Maybe a year

From: Me

You’re leaving next week?

How long have you known?

From: Kaito

Like, a few months

From: Me

From: Kaito

Haha yeah

Kinda forgot to tell you

Thats on me

From: Me

Its fine

From: Kaito

Phew glad i got that off my chest

Can you believe Maki Roll thought you’d be mad at me?

From: Me

Haha what

No its fine

Everything’s cool --- [Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

What the hell???

From: Maki

I know right???? --- Shuichi put down his phone, feeling like a plate on a table that just got the table cloth pulled from beneath it and yet some how found itself shockingly sedentary. He internally recalculated his schedule. He'd need to get on the next plane to Japan as fast as he could.

He opened the door. The lights outside the holding room seemed to have been taken as well. There was an officer with a flashlight who helped him grab his stuff.

Weirdly, on the way out, Shuichi looked back through the little window in the door to the holding room. The lights had gone out in it as well. Wait… wasn't there a vent in that room too?

As soon as the thought occurred to Shuichi he forcefully extinguished it.

Not my case. He reminded himself.

Then he turned, nodded to the officer, and walked out the door. --- Kokichi Ouma sat in the back seat of one of DICE's get away cars with a fresh bandage wrap on his head, slurping street vendor Gelato and trying to convince himself this was another win. Sure, the heist went well. Rook, King, and Queen had been on vent duty with him and had managed to sweep up his unfinished light fixture nabbing route. They were actually about to pick Rook up from the final rendezvous point right that second.

Which brought Kokichi to the discrepancies indicating he may be suffering a loss here.

For starters, no one was smiling. They had just pulled off a major haul and nobody was happy about it. Kokichi thought that if he got into the car where no one had seen him go splat from ceiling to floor he wouldn't have to deal with this, but Queen, King, and Bishop were really out here acting like he had died or something. He didn't even have a concussion! They did all the tests! King checked him out like forty times, he just cut himself on the edge of the broken vent!

But Bishop was stone faced behind the wheel and Queen kept pausing the tikkertap of his fingers on the keyboard to look back at Kokichi. Even King was just sitting there trying not to stare at him. Kokichi could tell he was worrying about him because if King wasn't worrying about him then he would be texting Rook. Those two were insufferable. Did he say insufferable? He meant inseparable. Like they always say next to each other when they could and texted each other the entire time they couldn't. If King was texting them it meant he was looking for emotional support because he was worrying about Kokichi but thought that he should try and make sure Kokichi didn’t know he was worrying about him, which was annoying as hell.

They weren't looking at him like their boss right now, they were looking at him like their kid brother.

He tried not to let that turn his stomach. He had gelato left to put in there, after all.

Ok, them thinking he was weak for bleeding out wasn’t the only option here. Maybe they were just antsy to be done with this heist.

Kokichi couldn’t really argue with that sentiment, though. Not because this one was a trash fire, even though it kind of was, but because he wanted to get onto the next one. Once they picked up Rook, they could figure out where they were going next and Kokichi would have another chance to match wits with the detective. With Kokichi's big screw up today it had only been due to Spades and Clubs's intervention that he hadn't gotten caught. Saihara was right on his tail and Kokichi still had no idea how he was doing it. It was like a puzzle, like an actually hard one. Kokichi spent a few moments thinking up possible methods, crossing out a few, and sorting the rest of them into piles based on likelihood in his head.

He only realized he had been silently spacing out for six minutes when the car stopped. He heard the trunk open and close

King scooted over into the middle seat and Rook came in to sit on the right hand side behind Queen. Kokichi thought about that for a second, because King had automatically assumed that he should be the one to move to the middle seat. Did it speak to Kokichi’s authority that it wasn’t even a consideration that he should move over to let Rook into the car, or did it speak to their interpretation of his fragility? Well, Kokichi was never asked to move over in the back seat. Then again, he usually sat in the front. Wait, wasn’t he in the seat behind the driver? There was a gif set online somewhere where two white guys are in a car and one explains to the other how the seat behind the driver’s is the safest seat in the car. Had everyone subconsciously thought of that gif set when they sat down in the car? Or were they merely following a pattern of behavior because Kokichi was never asked to move over when someone got in the car. In fact he was never asked to move over at all, not even when he was taking up a lot of space on the couch. Again, that could be a sign of his inherent authority. Except maybe it didn’t mean anything because DICE members asked each other to move over as a sign of antagonism and they just didn’t antagonize him like that. Were they afraid of him? Or maybe King just scooted over because Rook was coming in on his side-

Wait, rewind. Were they afraid of him?

Kokichi rethought the silence that had encompassed their ride thus far. Now that he reconsidered, the silence had almost seemed anticipatory, as if something were weighing on their minds more pressing than fresh banter or celebration. He had thought they were just anxious to finish off the operation, but now that Rook had stowed the goods and was safely in the car, the tense anticipation of something to come still hung heavy in the air.

As the car started back up, Kokichi noticed Rook and King exchange a glance. Bishop checked the rear view window at a suspicious angle. Rook’s hand went over the shoulder of the passenger seat, obviously palming something they were handing to Queen.

Kokichi spun a wheel in his head. Get out of the car? Confront them? Change the topic? Make them feel so bad for him they have to drop everything? Strike fear into their hearts of what his reaction would be towards untoward news? Maybe he should do a food crime to make them realize he was fine? Except he had finished his gelato, so what was he supposed to do? Eat the paper cup his gelato was-

Oh, oops.

While Kokichi had been considering what to do, it turned out he had also been methodically folding the finished gelato cup in his hands. Now, it was in his mouth.

Wow, he hadn’t thought this out, huh? He was trying to look less like a person with brain damage, not more . Well, too late to take the paper out of his mouth, he had already committed to the bit.

Kokichi pretended not to notice that everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch him with dawning horror as he chewed the former bowl to pulp in his mouth. It still tasted a little chocolatey. Mostly in an unsatisfying way, though. You know how when you eat the last bit off your spoon and you end up tasting mostly the spoon which just leaves you wishing you had more ice cream and it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Except instead of a spoon it was this paper bowl. He felt the fibers dampen and rip apart under his teeth. The gnashing filled the car with sound.

Then he swallowed.

The car was once more filled with a petrified silence, this time on Kokichi’s terms.

“You four have been scheming behind my back.” He announced, emptying the car of silence with the sound of his voice.

At Kokichi’s words, everyone in the car flinched into an avoidant position. Bishop took the car out of park and started driving, Queen went back to typing on his computer, and King leaned as far away as he could from Kokichi without unbuckling.

Rook was the last player standing and braved looking Kokichi in the eyes.

“Uh. So.” They started roughly. “We just thought that….”

“I knew what you thought as soon as you volunteered for the last rendezvous point this morning.” Kokichi interrupted, bluffing wildly, “Just show me what you got out of it.”

“Just one sec, boss I’m uploading it to the computer.” Queen muttered, probably dragging around files from the SD card Rook had handed him. When he finally did turn the laptop around to show Kokichi, an audio player was open. He also noted on the task bar that file explorer,

Mozilla Firefox, and Fieldwire were open but minimized.

Kokichi grabbed the computer and put it in his lap before pressing play.

“Well the only thing from the airport you need are logs of ticket purchases and the security footage from the gates if those aren’t enough.” It took Kokichi a couple seconds to recognize the voice. “DICE is an organization of ten people, so you're always looking for a bulk purchase of 9 to 10 tickets at the same time, although they can be from different airports... ”

Kokichi opened Fieldwire. It was the program that DICE used to share blueprints with one another. Queen had started a new project that had been shared only with Bishop. He opened it.

“It doesn't matter who the tickets are purchased by or what identities are attributed to them, only that they're purchased at the same time.”

It took Kokichi a few moments to figure out what exactly he was looking at.

“I say 9 or 10 tickets because sometimes DICE members will infiltrate the flight crew.”

They were blueprints for a plane.

“Like in Paris” A new voice cut into the recording.

“Like in Paris” Shuichi replied.

There was a minute left on the recording. That was how long Kokichi had to figure out what the hell was going on here and what his response should be.

Detective Saihara using information from airports had been a possibility that crossed his mind before, but Kokichi hadn’t highlighted it any more than his other theories, which ranged from secret spy gear, to omniscience, or to just plain old random chance.

Obviously the same could not be said for those of his cohort. They had suspected public air transport was the root cause of their encounters with the Detective long enough for Queen to draw up these blueprints and recruit Rook to bring evidence for some sort of pitch they were planning.

They had figured the detective out before him.

Kokichi had thought of the detective’s successes as challenges, exciting roadside attractions to disrupt an otherwise monotonous road trip through life. How had he not stopped himself even once during the past month to ask himself how they looked to the rest of DICE? To his subordinates, Saihara’s successes seemed less like fun interruptions and more like real obstacles towards goals they all commonly held. In other words, setbacks revealing failures in Kokichi’s plans.

The worst thing was that Kokichi wanted to be angry at these four for this intervention bullshit. Angry that they took away some bit of mystery solving fun from him. Angry that they wanted to take away something that he had felt good about. Angry that they were undermining his authority by going behind his back.

But he wasn’t going to be angry. It was a stupid, pointless thing, his anger.

Being a supreme leader of ultimate evil isn’t all tulips and tirades. Everything Kokichi did needed to have a purpose, because he knew that DICE were always watching him, looking to him, making judgements and changing their perceptions of him in their minds.

What would being angry here accomplish? It would only strengthen their impression of his sudden unreasonableness. Even if he explained his motives, they didn’t hold up very well upon inspection. What was that Boss? You’re so bored by us that you feel the need to endanger us by playing mind games with a boot licking private eye while we do all the work? Oh yeah, we totally understand. Wait right there while we never fully trust you with anything ever again.

If anything DICE had a right to be angry at him. What had he been doing these past few weeks? How had they figured out this plane thing before him?

Was there some part of him that was actively sabotaging himself? A part that wanted him to fail just for the thrill of it? Maybe he had known how Saihara was really tracking them, but had just ignored the obvious answer because he didn’t want the mystery to be over yet.

How could his friends trust him if he didn’t even trust himself?

Kokichi had ten seconds to wrap up this train of thought before the recording was finished. No more questions, only answers, lets go.

The plans for the airplane were by all means exactly what DICE would be looking for in a plane. It was small enough as to not require a massive amount of runway space but large enough to house everyone comfortably. There were some rather intricate illustrations of those convertible mechanisms that Queen had gotten really into earlier that year. How long had he been planning thi- no questions. Fold out tables, couches, a TV, things that could turn a vehicle into an on the go hideout in the blink of an eye. Kokichi estimated the total cost of everything to come out to around ¥1,190,401,200. Which is. A lot of money. But most of that money would probably be for the engine, which if you buy legally would be around a billion yen. If he factored out buying legally, the rest of the blueprint would probably cost around ¥1,081,200, a much lower figure. Renting a hangar would cost a little less, but that price was more flexible depending on what Bishop said their monthly earnings were.

Kokichi googled ‘Japan Aerospace.’ He was in luck, the first thing that popped up was an article about a new JAXA mission.

The recording stopped.

Showtime.

Kokichi let them breathe in the silence a bit.

Then, when they were good and nervous, he enacted his plan.

“Bishop, tell Queen how much we earned this month.” He requested calmly.

Bishop replied readily, “About ¥2,000,000, Boss!”

Whoa. What? Were they really making that much a month? Kokichi supposed they had been robbing high security locales on a weekly basis, but somehow he had still viewed their team as barely scraping by. What was even the point of the heists anymore if they-

No time for questions, Kokichi had to use that figure right now.

“Do you know what that figure means, Queen?” Kokichi asked, knowing that Queen never thought about the monetary cost of his projects for more than three seconds.

“Uh… Money?” Yeah, okay, Kokichi needed to remember not to target Queen too much, even though he seemed to be the ringleader of this insurrection. That would only serve to force the other members of DICE to pick a side, which was not the ideal dynamic of a ten person group.

“It’s exactly how much money we would need to rent a hangar and build an airplane covertly in Kagoshima next month.” Kokichi clarified.

“... Uh boss,” Bishop interrupted hesitantly, “I hate to contradict you there, but most airplanes would cost a hundred times that-” “I’m not talking about how much it would take to build most airplanes.” Kokichi interrupted the interruption he had expected to occur. “I’m talking about how much it would take us to build an airplane.”

Kokichi then turned the laptop back around to show Queen the article about the manned launch to the ISS happening next week. He scrolled down to a picture of the engine taken at the launch site in Tanegashima. When Queen’s eyes lit up and King let out a sigh of relief, Kokichi knew that he had gotten away with it.

He managed to play off this whole month-long debacle as a waiting game, pretending that he had the very same understanding and intentions as the rest of them since the start of the month.

They’d get on different planes, booked at different times to the international airports in Tokyo, and then ship out to the JAXA launch site on Tanegashima, fuck things up a little and steal some rocket level engines. And Kokichi would stuff down the emptiness that curled in his gut at the lost prospect of a very interesting adversary.

… empty, huh?

Why would cutting his losses make him feel empty? Why-

No questions.

…

He should get some more gelato. Things were good when he was eating gelato.

#shuichi x kokichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi danganronpa #oumasai #saiouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #writing #im gay lol

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redheadgleek · 4 years

Note

Get ready, girl - Questions 1-50. Yup, I want them all. ;)

You are terrible and I love you for it. I’m only do ten at a time, because I have to go to work soon.

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

My first published fic was What A Wonderful World for Gilmore Girls. I still love it - it was a fic that entirely engrossed me when writing it and I still love the feelings that I captured. It’s not the first fic I ever wrote - I may or may not have written self-insert fic for Lois & Clark back in high school, but that has been long since lost…

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

I’m going to link to my most recent completed fic, which was written a year and a half ago for the TDB fic exchange, With Song and Celebration. I use a beta reader now for my fic, which I highly recommend - they give great feedback on how ideas flow, they inspire additional idea, and they also tame the grammar/spelling errors. I know that I’ve matured as a writer over the last decades, but I couldn’t tell you exactly how. I’m definitely more comfortable with writing what I want to write and read.

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

I love all of my children equally! (A Wedding: Production Draft).

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

A Wedding: Production Draft. That one has the most notes, kudos and comments of any of my fic.

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

I actually love rereading all of my fic. I’m not a very prolific writer and they all give me a great sense of pride. I accomplished this - my brain produced these ideas and words and put them down on paper (a process that was near agony) and then people have read and liked them too.

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

No, not really. The really terrible self-insert fics were deleted when I switched computers long ago.

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

I am so excited about my upcoming fic, Love Me At Once. It’s a rewritten fairy tale (I bet you can’t guess which one) that plays with some of my favorite tropes and it’s been an self-indulgent treat (I’ve just had so much fun sliding in references to my favorite movies and TV shows that I hope others pick up on). Soon.

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

This is the year that I want to finish Like Never Before. It’s been over 15 years (!!!) since I last updated it and there’s just two chapters left to complete it. I’ve long moved on from the fandom, so I don’t have the characters’ voices in my head any more, which definitely makes it challenging. Nobody will read it (very few people read it before when I was publishing it, as friendship fics aren’t super popular), but I just want the joy of the accomplishment.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

No. I’ve read fanfic that I knew nothing about the source material, but I’ve never tried to write it.

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

Once upon a time, I started brainstorming for a fic for Ed Greene/Olivia Benson from Law & Order/SVU and I’ve never read any fanfic in those fandoms (I looked and never found anything that caught my fancy. This may be my rarest of rare pair ships as I’m pretty sure it was a fandom of just one (they would have been so pretty together and could heal so many core wounds).

#fanfic writing meme #part 1 of 5 #spaceorphan18

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darkspine10 · 4 years

Text

Dipcifica - Top & Tail

Top & Tail (4129 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: General (but full version is Explicit) Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dipper Pines/Pacifica Northwest Additional Tags: College AU, Awkward Sexual Situations, Banter Summary: Dipper and Pacifica are forced into a tight situation on a college trip. Sharing a narrow single bed, sparks will fly, and both of them will try to overcome the other.

For an upcoming extended version, featuring NSFW scenes, see the AO3 version of the fic :)

"This cannot be allowed. There must be some mistake."

Dipper rolled his eyes again. That must be about the twentieth time she’d said it. Pacifica was now pacing back and forth, getting more and more wound up.

“I mean, how does this happen? The college booked the trip months ago!”

“I guess there was just a mix-up or something.” He shrugged, knowing it would do little to calm her down. That wasn’t Pacifica’s way of doing things. She’d complain all evening if she thought it would fix a bad outcome.

“But it’s outrageous! Making us all share rooms, that’s one thing, but this…” She stared unbelievingly at the narrow bed in the middle of the cold hotel room. “It’s barely big enough for one of us! And they expect us to share?! I did not sign up for co-ed roommates.”

“No, you signed up for skiing and sightseeing, am I right?” He stretched out on the bed, tired from the lengthy flight to Helsinki and wanting nothing more than to end this debate and go to sleep. “If it’s too much trouble you could always sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah right,” Pacifica shot back, tapping her boot on the solid wood. She pressed down on the mattress, testing the softness. It was decent enough, she supposed, but not nearly big enough to fit the two of them. Not like she was planning on actually going through with that. “Maybe I can go switch rooms or something.”

Dipper sat up in the bed and faced her. “No offence, Pacifica, but don’t think you’ll get many volunteers.”

Since leaving for college the rich girl had made few friends. Away from home her family’s influence had no effect, so her cold and domineering nature ended up isolating her from most circles. Dipper was actually one of the few people she cared to hang around with, simply because he was someone familiar. And the generally socially inept Dipper hadn’t complained about having someone talk too, since he too was a self-admitted loner. Pacifica was intelligent, he had to admit, and though they often sparred, they tolerated each other well enough. It was at least brighter company than spending all his time alone or visiting his sister.

“We sat together on the plane,” he added, trying to explain himself. “I think the professors just assumed we were fine going in the same room.”

Pacifica, in the process of taking off her expensive high-heeled fur boots, pointed a bare foot daintily at the bed. “Well I am not fine sharing that.”

“Yeah, I remember you have problems with ‘Shar-ring’,” Dipper enunciated teasingly. He didn’t see what the whole issue was anyway. Shrugging again, he lightly pushed her foot away with one finger, not failing to notice the pink nail polish and recent pedicure. "We can just top and tail. I used to do it with Mabel on trips all the time."

"Yeah but you're siblings. And weirdly close ones too." She eyed the bed contemptuously, as if she could intimidate into suddenly sprouting a second copy of itself. Exhaling deeply, she finally threw up her arms in defeat. “Fine. Whatever. Now help my unpack the rest of my stuff.”

“I’m not one of your servants, Northwest. Lug your own case in.”

“Ugh, you’re trying my patience, Pines.” Dipper didn’t budge, smirking at the fact that she already knew he wasn’t going to move a muscle to help her. She ducked back out into the hallway, then returned dragging a cumbersome, bright pink suitcase on its rollers.

When she’d originally arrived at the college in the early hours of the morning, where they were waiting for the coach to take them to the airport, she’d astonishingly had four more cases of varying sizes. He’d delighted in watching her agonise over which stuff to leave behind when she found out about the limited cargo space on the flight. It made his single small backpack fell downright spartan in comparison.

Pacifica finished shifting the case into their room. Her attitude was still sour, as evidence by how she was staring down her nose at him, incensed that she’d had to put in physical effort for once.

“What do you even keep in that thing?” Dipper asked, with a mixture of highlighting her absurdity and genuine curiosity.

“I have standards, Pines, you wouldn’t understand. Just cause the only thing you ever bring with you is that dumb journal of yours. And that.” She pointed to his chest, where a bulky polaroid camera hung down from around his neck.

“What about my camera? My course is all about that after all, you should expect me to actually like photography. I know your concerns are above those of us poor ordinary people but have some common sense.”

She sidled over to him and examined the camera closely. It was clear she wasn’t impressed, and let it hang back limply. “I think you spend too much time taking snapshots or writing in that book. You need to live in the moment more.”

“Unlike you?”

“Yes, unlike me,” she replied indignantly. “Architecture is a serious profession, not a distraction like whatever you get up to”

“Bet you just use it as an excuse to waste time doodling though.” He shook his head. “Anyway, back to the point, I like to travel light. Less junk to weigh me down. Not like I need much, only the bare essentials.”

“Which I notice doesn’t include any bathroom products.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Ever heard of personal hygiene?”

“I don’t like wasting time in the shower, ok? I let the natural cleansing properties of water do the job.”

Pacifica laughed uproariously at him, and even Dipper had to agree he was reaching somewhat to justify his laziness. “Oh, that’s a good one Pines. You’re borrowing some of my stuff tonight, that’s a requirement.” She unzipped a section of her case and offered it to him. “Take your pick.”

Bending over to look inside, he saw a selection of dozens of interchangeable bottles. Hair gels, shampoo and conditioner for her long, blonde hair, body wash, she had it all and Dipper couldn’t tell which of any of them he’d need. To avoid looking like a complete fool in front of Pacifica, he just grabbed the first one at random and hoped it would suffice.

He turned the bottle over in his hand, deciding that since she’d been uncharacteristically generous he should show some courtesy. "I suppose I should go wash. I did kind kinda sweaty on the flight. Especially since it looks like we definitely will be-"

"Don't say it!"

"-sleeping together," he finished obliviously.

Pacifica rubbed her eyelids and tried to avoid her roommate’s gaze. "Ugh, don't say it like that. You make it sound like we’ll be... getting up to stuff"

"Now you've lost me." He ignored Pacifica and pulled out his phone. Maybe his sister could translate the fancy French written on the bottle of shampoo and tell him what it was. As he was making his way to the en-suite though, he had the realisation of what exactly Pacifica had meant. “Oh, wait a minute! ‘Getting up to stuff’, you mean…“

“Please shut up.”

Dipper gave a short, sharp laugh. “You totally meant succumbing to my masculine charms."

“Puh-lease, Pines. You’re about as manly as an actual block of wood. Like I'd ever stoop to your level."

"Oh, I wouldn't deign to inconvenience you, Princess." He gave a mock bow, theatrically bending over and unfurling a hand to offer to Pacifica.

“Don’t call me that!” She slapped the hand away. “This isn’t a joke; I have a reputation to uphold.”

“And what? If people hear that a Northwest dared to even spend time in the company of a commoner? Shocker.”

“You are such a dork.” Unfazed by his act, she shook her head and tried to finish her unpacking. “Please let’s just try to act like mature adults. We’ll get through tonight, then tomorrow, then whatever comes next. With a minimum of fuss.”

“Hey Pacifica?” As she turned her head, she saw him in the doorway of the bathroom, camera raised and aimed right at her face. “Smile and say cheese!” The priceless look of shock and outrage he captured in her eyes made the photo a sure-fire keepsake for his collection. Getting through the rest of the night was certainly going to be an interesting ordeal.

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Unable to sleep, Dipper tossed over in the bed once again, facing towards Pacifica. Somehow she’d fallen asleep in mere minutes. But for him, the cold air and tight space made it hard for him to relax and drift off. Then there was the problem of his companion.

As he settled again in position, he tried to minimise his movements. Every time he made the slightest adjustment to the sheets, the rustling sound that resulted was like an atomic bomb going off. He could barely hear Pacifica’s breaths, they were so shallow, but any noise felt like it would wake her up.

He tried to distract himself, to tell his brain that he was being irrational and to go to sleep. Stop overreacting, she isn’t going to suddenly wake up now, he should just accept the situation and not worry. That only made him focus more on the minute sounds of Pacifica’s breathing.

He was hyper-aware of anything that might disturb her. Having to endure a rant about disturbing her beauty sleep was the last thing he needed. They had to be up early tomorrow to go with the group on a daytrip to some island in the bay, staying up all night fretting was only going to make him tired and irritable.

Then he settled on something in the corner of his eye. Poking out of the end of the duvet, Pacifica’s feet were exposed to the air. He noticed her nail polish, and how sharp her toenails were. He had no idea why anyone would care enough to put that much effort into prettying up their feet. Would be a big waste of time in his mind.

A wicked thought ran through his head. Not sure if it was a smart idea or if he was just too sleep deprived to think straight, he wriggled an arm free of the sheets. One thing he knew about Pacifica was that she was incredibly ticklish. The lightest feather touch could set her off laughing. He could reach out and do it right now.

Maybe it would be satisfying to get some payback for all the teasing earlier? It might be worth it merely to see the look on her face; she did always have the funniest over-the-top reactions. He couldn’t deny the desire to give her the taste of her own medicine. See how she feels when she’s forced awake in the dead of night. After that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about making too much noise.

Hovering over the sole of a foot, he prepared to apply the gentlest caress possible. His fingers brushed against her skin, then in an instant her entire body shook with a thunderous force. A burst of awkward laughter erupted from her lips as she jerked awake. Dipper chuckled to himself but regretted it moments later.

Pacifica’s feet shot out, reacting to his tickles. Her lovingly pedicured toenails, sharpened to razors, rammed right into his eye sockets. Dipper cried out in pain and fell backwards out of the bed. “Holy shit! My eyes!”

Pacifica, finally free of the uncontrollable spasms, flicked on the bedside lamp, and turned an accusing gaze at Dipper, sprawled out on the floor. “What the hell did you just do?!”

A hand clutched to his face, he muttered, “Still getting over being jabbed by your talons, that’s all.”

“My what?” She wriggled her toes, then angrily curled them up under the duvet. “You are such a jerk. What did you think would happen?”

“Hey, at least I made you laugh.” He winked, but the joke went down like a steel balloon under her steely gaze.

“Get back into bed, dummy. Some of normal people us are trying to sleep.”

“No way, nuh-uh,” he protested loudly. Jumping to his feet, he pointed to the head of the bead. “I am not sleeping opposite those weapons anymore. I’d like to not go blind, thanks.”

“Ugh, if you’re gonna be such a baby about it…” Pacifica’s head disappeared under the covers, then there was a noisy rummaging. Her head showed up again at the opposite end of the bed. “You really wanna do this Pines? Cause I can handle your immaturity up close.”

Cautious, Dipper climbed back into bed, face to face with his upset roommate. He pulled the covers over so both their bodies were snugly pressed together under them.

“Happy now?”

“Sure, it’s just a little… tight.” They both blushed at the implication.

Pacifica’s eyes darted away from his. “Now, go to sleep Pines. And don’t make me regret letting you back in the bed.” Her eyes closed again, preparing to resume whatever dream had been in progress before.

“Nighty night… Princess,” Dipper couldn’t help but snigger.

Pacifica let out an angry groan, but kept her eyes resolutely shut. She was trying to get back to sleep but her breathing was heavier than before. Dipper knew she wouldn’t easily fall asleep again while she was annoyed at him. He closed his own eyelids for a moment, but as before couldn’t find a way to peacefully rest.

A shiver ran up Pacifica’s body. He thought at first he must have accidently skimmed against her, setting off her ticklishness again. But then her body shook again, and he realised it was simply cold. Despite the temperatures outside being so low, and the room providing little insulation, she was only wearing a thin pink sleep shirt and cotton shorts. Her bare legs felt frigid up against him.

Her bare feet suddenly stood out as a glaring aberration. Realising that she must have left her warmer pyjamas in one of her other cases that she’d had to leave behind, he felt slightly guilty towards her.

“Hey, psst, Pacifica.” He didn’t get a reply, so lightly tapped her side with a finger.

“Shh.” She kept her eyes resolutely shut and pulled her pillow over her ears. “Go to sleep, Pines.”

“I wanted to let you know, you can borrow some of my winter socks if you’re cold. I packed spares, it’s the least I could do for you.”

“I’m not taking handouts from you, I’m fine as I am,” she said, despite clutching the covers tighter to herself. That was Pacifica’s way, she would rather freeze that concede any weakness.

Dipper still felt bad about her situation, so tried to come up with another option. “We could huddle together? You know, like penguins, combine our body heat?”

Pacifica begrudgingly opened her eyes. “Do you want me to smother your face with this pillow?”

“I was only trying to help,” he muttered irritatedly.

“Yeah, well don’t. I can look after myself. I’m not some helpless damsel. Now: Go. To. Sleep.”

She was about to try yet again to close her eyes, but Dipper suddenly blurted out something. “Unless you’re still afraid of getting up to stuff with me?” There was a small red glow on his cheeks, but he had a determined smirk nonetheless. “Face it, you can’t stand the thought of me lying here next to you.”

“Oh, now it’s personal.” She lined herself up, so she was staring eye to eye with Dipper. “First one to blink loses. We’ll see who chickens out first. That’ll show you which of us is intimidated by the other.”

“You’re on.” Intending to take her on and win, Dipper adjusted himself so he was comfortable, then stared deep into her sapphire eyes. She did the same, turning her piercing gaze upon his hazel eyes. Locked in opposition, they steeled themselves to outlast the other.

They’d often played this kind of game before, competing in minor ways to annoy each other. Seeing who could answer the most study questions in a set time or dinging the other if they were ever late to classes. Pacifica’s competitive streak was a mile-wide, drilled into her by her parents’ mandate to always overachieve, while Dipper didn’t like to tolerate her smug superiority complex. That meant that on average the pair usually ended up drawing in their small victories.

Dipper realised he’d been staring at her eyes for some time now. Neither of them had budged yet. Though his eyes stayed wide open, they drifted somewhat from Pacifica’s as he started to waver slightly. As his gaze fell upon the copious amounts of dark purple eyeshadow she wore, his thoughts started to drift too.

Who wears makeup to bed? Like her neatly kept toes, what was the point if nobody would see her this way? Her was hair though, that was one aspect of her appearance she seemed to have lost control off, messily sprawled out. It was a rare glimpse at seeing her in a halfway dishevelled state.

A whiff of her shampoo floated past him, carrying the strong, sweet scent of champagne and roses. Hyper-awareness of his surroundings returned, but this time it was more about Pacifica than his own movements. They were so close together; they could even feel each other's breaths intermingling in the small space between them.

Wheels turned slowly in Mason’s mind. Perhaps it was the tiredness from the flight and being kept up all night, but he felt like he was running in slow motion. But as he stared and stared at Pacifica’s face he became more and more captivated by what he saw.

This was ridiculous. It was Pacifica Northwest for crying out loud. The most self-centred person he’d ever met. A pampered sorority brat who constantly argued with him. Now though, in the dim light, an odd sensation rose in his chest. A sensation of desire. He had the urge to lean forwards, to bridge the minute gap between them…

Maybe he was drunk off her hair or something like that. That could be the only explanation for why he was suddenly overwhelming drawn to the girl lying opposite.

“What’s the matter Pines? Losing your nerve?”

Shit. It was like she’d read his mind, easily figuring out his mood had changed. He couldn’t hide the crimson blush flooding across his cheeks or the thin layer of sweat starting to form. She raised a single eyebrow to express her insight, making him crumble like tissue paper.

“I- uh- that is to say-“ He gulped, hoping she’d think he’d given up and would declare herself the winner of the little contest. Anything to get her out of his head. Deep breaths, Dipper, he forced himself to remember. “I was just distracted by something, ok?”

“Oh.” Instead of the expected reaction, she too blushed now, though as with all things kept a better level of composure. Actually I was kind of distracted too.” This caught him off guard. What about him could she possibly be interested in? Then he saw her gaze wander upwards and he understood.

“This?” He lifted his hair out of his forehead, slowly exposing his unique birthmark. The strange arrangement of spots that perfectly formed the constellation of Big Dipper. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “What, you think it’s weird or funny? Go ahead, make some petty remark, I can take it.”

Pacifica frowned, thought not in an angry way. More like he was interpreting her wrong. “I’ve never really got a good look up close at it before, that’s all. May I?” She reached forward to touch his forehead, hesitating when he recoiled slightly. He didn’t have far to go in the cramped bed though, not if he didn’t want to fall out again.

Relenting, he held up his hands. “I guess you can have a quick look. Why though? It’s just a rare thing I have, nothing special.”

“I don’t think that.” Her hand delicately moved his hair aside. For second she halted, then he allowed her to continue and she stroked her fingers across the birthmark. Her touch was electric, sending chills down his body. No-one had ever gotten close enough to actually feel the birthmark. “It gave you your nickname,” Pacifica added, “that’s gotta count for something. ”

Normally he hated when people noticed or talked about his birthmark. They would either react in horror or have a sort of morbid curiosity. Either way it marked him as a freak. Never before had anyone been genuinely curious and sensitive about in this way.

It surprised him coming from Pacifica of all people. Sensitivity wasn’t her usual style. Maybe she knew something about intimacy and vulnerability though. In her daily life she put up a façade to most of the world, a mask that rarely slipped. Yet he knew underneath there were things she didn’t like sharing. Like keeping her videogaming habit to herself or getting embarrassed if people heard her singing. Safeguards to prevent her parents’ from discovering anything they deemed ‘improper’, most likely.

He wondered why this was happening. Why she was acting more caring towards him, and why he didn’t mind having her enter his most sacrosanct personal space. Pacifica wasn’t the sort of the person who was easy to like. She was snooty and elitist and cold at times.

She had flaws in her personality that people steered away from. Her biting wit, which he often clashed with, her competitive drive. To him those aspects didn’t seem so bad right now. They just showed that she was a quick thinker, somebody confident in her abilities and unwilling to back down. Qualities he admired.

If she was willing to treat with him with such respect regarding the concealed oddity on his forehead, perhaps he was right to trust her. She'd consented to this sleeping arrangement after all. Despite all the pretentions, under the rough exterior she did consider him an honest friend.

And what an exterior it was. The upside to her over-indulgences in beauty regimes meant that she had a constant dazzling appearance that often turned heads. The luscious blonde hair, her sultry lips, those sparkling eyes. Though she was tired and unprepared, even now he found her looks so enticing.

Under the covers, his hand traced the smooth curves of her hips. As with her exploration of his birthmark, she didn’t protest at all. In fact, her hand descended from his birthmark to cup his cheek. The soft smoothness of her skin stood out, frozen as it was.

The intensity of their close breaths was heightened like never before, as Dipper’s rate stepped up noticeably. His heart was beating faster and he felt nearer to Pacifica now. He fixed his gaze back in her eyes, then asked the obvious question. “What exactly is happening here?”

A warm smile shone back at him. “I think, maybe… we both lost the staring competition.” Pacifica’s other hand grabbed at his chocolate locks, pulling him across the last, tiny gap separating them. Their heavy breathing was finally interrupted when he pressed his lips forcefully to hers. She seemed surprised by his boldness, but then leant into it, gripping his head close.

Dipper’s pushed his way further into her mouth, and their two tongues wrestled and danced around each other. At last he came up for air, gasping for only a second before Pacifica leapt at him again. She rolled on top of him, freeing up space in the bed and tightening their budding connection. Dipper’s hands made their way to her hips, supporting her above him.

Though he deeply desired to continue just as they were, kissing passionately, he had an impulsive idea. “Hold on Paz, just a second.” He laid her back down on her side, then groped in the darkness on his bedside table. She looked at him, concerned why he wanted to stop, then understood when held his polaroid camera aloft. “Smile for me, please?”

He wanted to capture this moment, this tentative blossoming between them, to keep as a permanent reminder. Pacifica understood that keenly, so snuggled up beside him in view of the lens. A quick flash, and it was done, recorded on celluloid forever.”

As soon as the flash faded, Pacifica snatched the camera away from him and put it away. “Now, enough of that. Where were we?”

Side by side, the two previously reluctant roommates returned to exploring their new relationship. It was the start of something, a potential beginning that neither knew where it could lead. With their bodies squeezed up against one another, their hearts aflame, the cold atmosphere of the room would no longer be a problem for either of them.

#gravity falls fanfic #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #College au #Awkward romance #Banter

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