#<- typos left in for emphasis. i guess.

[basilpaste]

for sure part of the reason i get so frustrated when people correct me on minor typos is like. i ammmm disabled. sometimes my motor control wonks up and ill miss keys on the keyboard or not click space properly and i usually catch it but sometimes i just dont and man.

[huntingingoodwill]

an adult dinner party (m.m.)

masterlist

desc: when your attempts to help out marcus with a dinner party go south, he swoops in to save the day. not all heroes wear capes. some of them wear aprons.

a/n: a fluffy fic for the @happypedrohours charcuterie writing challenge based on the prompt poppy seed crackers w/ marcus m!!!

“Poppy seed crackers. Like the stuff they make opium from?” Marcus said, squinting at the ingredients list printed on the back of the box.

“I’m sure they’re not selling expiring opium at the grocery store clearance section.” You laughed, the words already sounding doubtful as they left your mouth. Would they sell opium at the grocery store?

“What’s opium?” Missy said, looking extremely bored as she lounged in the shopping cart.

“Google it.” You said, words overlapping with Marcus’ as he said, “You don’t need to know.”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad for you.” The two of you said in unison.

“Are we having opium at the dinner party?” Missy asked.

“Nah.” Marcus said, ruffling her hair. “Doubt that’d go down well with the other parents.”

You felt the box of crackers crinkle beneath your tense knuckles at the mention of the other parents.

As a member of the Parents’ Association at Missy’s school, it was Marcus’ turn to host a dinner for them tonight. You were determined to cook a feast to end all feasts for him, but you were definitely feeling the pressure.

“You’re gonna crush them.” He chuckled, extracting the crackers from your iron grip and tossing them to Missy, who caught them and placed them next to her in the cart.

“I just really want to help you make a good impression. I want to put on the perfect Adult Dinner Party.” You placed special emphasis on the last three words, aspirational ideas of sophisticated conversation over aperitifs flashing through your mind.

“Adult? Like X-rated?” Marcus grinned, killing your images of civilised chatter and hors d’oeuvres served on silver platters. His smile was illuminated by his phone as he skimmed over the frantic grocery list you had sent him, full of typos and vague ingredients.

“What’s ‘MEAT THE COLD KIND’?” he said, pointing at the words that flashed across his screen.

“I feel like ‘MEAT THE COLD KIND’ is pretty explanatory.” You said, drifting towards the cold cuts, tossing some prosciutto into the cart before steering towards the self-checkout area.

As you packed your groceries away, you watched as Marcus aimed the scanner at Missy, red lights flashing over her frame.

“Nothing.” She said, staring at the till where, naturally, no product registered. “Guess I’m worthless.” She joked.

“You’re priceless.” He corrected, turning the scanner on you. “And so are you.”

You rolled your eyes at his corniness, melting into his touch as he reached to cup your face in his large, warm hands, thumbs skimming the lines of your cheekbones.

“You’ll be fine tonight. Everything will be okay.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pointedly ignoring Missy’s pleas for the both of you to get a room.

“I’ll be fine.” You repeated, taking a deep breath that seemed to usher out all the anxiety that lingered in your body. “Everything will be okay.”

“Everything is NOT okay!” You wailed later that evening, flying into Marcus’ arms as soon as he came into the kitchen. You had only ushered him out of the kitchen an hour earlier to get him to set the dining table and clean up some of the everyday clutter accrued in the living room, but it was already apparent that things weren’t turning out as you hoped.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, holding you tight in his embrace.

“Turns about, despite my hopes and delusions, I am not Julia Child.” You groaned into the crook of his neck. “I can’t even fold the meat elegantly.” You said, gesturing at the haphazard ribbons of prosciutto splayed out on the charcuterie board.

“Can meat be folded elegantly?” Marcus said, arching an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask me! I wouldn’t know!” You threw your hands up in the air, sardonic words dripping in frustration.

He smiled, the image of calm amidst a kitchen that looked like a tornado had ripped through it, before using his thumb to swipe some flour off your cheek.

“That’s from the Beef Wellington.” You sighed.

“Honey, I’ve always loved your ambition.” He smiled, planting his hands on your shoulders.

“I think the parents of the association would love elegant prosciutto more than my ambition.”

He opened his mouth to protest, the shrill ring of the oven timer interrupting him.

“Help me get the Wellington, please.” You said, carving slices out of a block of cheese spotted with blue mould for the charcuterie board.

“Um, is the Wellington supposed to be so… pale?”

You dropped the knife, panic beginning to swell in your chest.

“How pale are we talking?”

“A grain of rice in a snowstorm?”

You dashed toward the oven, the swell of panic burgeoning into a wave of horror that crashed over you as you saw Marcus holding a Wellington encased with completely raw dough.

You stuck your hand in the oven, letting out a defeated wail.

“It’s not even on! It’s so cold in there, an ice cube would get goosebumps.”

You flopped onto the tiled kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

“You win, Adult Dinner Party. I surrender.” You breathed, exhausted.

“Mr and Mrs McCartney are here.” Missy said, appearing in the kitchen’s entryway.

“HELP!” You cried.

“Missy, stall them outside for a little. I’ll bring them in in a second.” Marcus sat down next to you as soon as Missy made a beeline for the door, smoothing stray hairs away from your face.

“Just go upstairs and get ready. I’ll handle it.” He soothed.

“Are you sure?” You sniffed.

“I’m sure. I can’t undercook the charcuterie board, can I? Charcuterie is French for ‘slap it on a wooden block and call it a day’.”

“I think Duolingo is lying to you.” You said, the smile returning to your face. He always knew how to do that.

“Maybe.” He smiled, offering you his arm and bringing you to your feet, the movement making a strange crunching noise that prompted the both of you to look at the floor.

You had managed to knock the box of crackers off the counter during your earlier flurry of movement, and he had stepped on them, reducing them to little crumbs that sprayed across the tile.

“Those crackers are driving me crazy.” You sighed.

“Same.” Marcus sighed, taking a peek out of the window to watch as Mr and Mrs McCartney pretended to listen to Missy tell an animated story out on the porch.

He ushered you toward the stairs.

“You’ll be okay?” You said, shooting an anxious look over your shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” He said, his calming voice washing over you with a wave of relief.

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning to give him a parting kiss.

It was only 20 minutes later when you descended the stairs, greeted by a crowd of elegant parents, nibbling on charcuterie and cocktails made out of the week old carton of orange juice that had been sitting in the fridge, and the dregs of whatever liquor Marcus could find in the kitchen cupboard.

“You look amazing.” Marcus said, reaching for your hand, staring at you with a glint of awe in his eye, even if all you did was freshen up as quick as you could and thrown on whatever nice old thing was hanging in the closet.

“You are amazing.” You whispered, pulling him into the kitchen, poppy seed crumbs still underfoot.

“So are you.” He grinned, warm palms travelling over your sides and finding their place on your hips.

“The meat was folded very elegantly, and the poppy seed crackers were scarcely missed.” You muttered, lips upturning as your hand skimmed the front of his shirt, travelling up his chest to fix his tie. “I love you. You’re perfect.”

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself.” He chuckled. “Wellington’s in the fridge for tomorrow’s dinner and the pizza delivery guy said he’ll be here in five minutes. Is it the X-rated pizza party you were hoping for?”

You rolled your eyes, smacking him playfully on the arm.

“It’s Adult Dinner Party.” You corrected. “And yes, it’s everything I hoped for and more.”

Stealing a moment away from the party, the mild chatter continuing outside the door, your lips met in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other tight amongst powdery spills of flour, cracked eggshells and poppy seed cracker crumbs. The perfect embrace in the most imperfect of places.

[fictitious-fluff]

IVE FINISHED THE GIFTTT even though its a few days late- I was your secret santa!!! Merry late Christmas XD

First time writing for tadc, was definitely interning. Might have been a little rushed and short since I had some trouble writing at the start, but I hope you like it ^^ @colinthegaycomputer hopefully I dont have any typos LOL

Tysm to @hypahticklish for hosting this @squealing-santa! Was rly funn

-

Unusual Comfort

Fandom: The Amazing Digital Circus (TADC)

No Pairings

Summary: A little situation left Pomni alone and down in the dumps. Kinger wants to help.

Word count: 827

Masterpost

Breathe.

That's what Ragatha would have said if she wasn't busy.

Jax and Zooble had been fighting and Gangle had been caught in the crossfire. Obviously, that didn't end well, with them becoming bound together. Ragatha had left Pomni near the stage while she helped the others out of a tangled gangle. A Pomni who was hyperventilating, but claimed she was alright to be left alone. She didn't want to make things worse. Ragatha didn't want to ask Kinger either. Someone who forgets what they are doing every 5 seconds would probably not be of help with the Gangle situation.

So here Pomni was, worrying over how she accidentally caused this whole mess when Gangle tripped on her. And a worried Kinger on the side of his fort.

"Hey Pomni, need some help there...?" Kinger finally walked over after contemplating for awhile. He might be mentally unstable but he still cared. He wasn't a monster...yet. "You want to come over and lie down? Relax a little?"

"H-huh? Oh. Uh s-sure I guess" She tried her best to have coherent words. Kind of hard to speak when you practically feel like you can't breathe.

Kinger put a hand behind Pomni and guided her to his pillow fort. Perhaps a little comfort could bring comfort to the poor jester.

Kinger brought out some water from his stash of snacks and handed it to Pomni. Can't have a fort without food and drinks. "Here, drink some water. It'll help to control your breathing. Drink slowly when you feel like you're breathing too fast."

Gulping down some water at first, Pomni started taking smaller sips. Eventually, her breathing did go back to normal. "Thanks.." Pomni replied, staring down at the drink.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Kinger broke the ice. "Do you need anything? You seem kind of down. Well, more than usual."

"Huh? Uh, no its fine." Pomni snapped back into reality. Her brows furrowed anxiously as sweat trickled down her forehead. Great, she just loved when people recognised she was uneasy.

More uncomfortable minutes of silence prompted Kinger to remember a trick Ragatha used to do for members of the digital circus. He didn't know what would be Pomni's reaction to it but... Was worth a shot.

"Would you like me to try something? It's just a thing Ragatha used to do to cheer up others" Kinger enquired.

Pomni wasn't rly listening at this point and just gave a 'mhm' without thinking. She was pretty spaced out.

What she didn't expect was fingers curling at her sides.

"Ghk-?! H-hey, what ahare you do-dohoing?" Pomni blurted out before covering her mouth, squatting down to evade the sensations. As much as she squirmed or turned, it never stopped. The fingers just expertly moved wherever she went. It didn't give her time to get used to one feeling, skittering and spidering all over.

Kinger followed as Pomni sank down. After a few more squeezes, he opted to change tactics, scratching in the hollows of her underarms.

Occasional muffled giggles and shaky breaths slipped out from her. It was unbearable but somehow felt weirdly...good? It made her grounded, real. You can't really think of anything else besides the maddening feeling while being tickled. Still, instincts kicked in. She tried to grab one of his wrists using one hand while the other still covered her mouth.

Emphasis on tried. You can't exactly hold on to a wrist that's not there, can you?

Kinger couldn't lie, it was actually kind of fun to see their friend laughing. She'd always been so on edge, it was nice to see her letting lose. He liked to see his friends being content.

As Kinger moved to lightly dusting her neck, Pomni squealed. Both her hands darting to her neck to try and protect it. Her shoulder and nose scrunching up as she twisted and leaned forward. Panicked squeaks poured out of her, now that she wasn't covering her mouth.

"You should let loose more often like this Pomni, it suits you." Kinger commented, as if he wasn't 'torturing' her right now. "It's good seeing you actually enjoy yourself."

Though that wasn't meant as a tease, it did embarrass Pomni a little. She blushed as she still tried to move away from the wriggling fingers. Pomni batted at them half heartedly.

Not wanting to overwhelm her, Kinger decided to relent. It was suppose to cheer her up anyways. "Feeling better?"

"Yeheah. Ihi think." Residue giggles lingered as Pomni rubbed off the tingles. She felt so..light. Like a weight had been lifted off of her. Guess laughter is the best medicine sometimes.

It was weird, she hadn't thought that tickling could have an effect on her like this. Or that she didn't actually mind it. Then again, she didn't really remember her past self so she didn't have much to compare.

Kinger grinned softly as he passed Pomni some more water to cool down.

"T-thanks for that.."

"Anytime."

[kyotakumrau]

2022.06 PHY vol.21 - Kyo interview

text: Higuchi Yasuyuki

translation: kyotaku

please buy the magazine if you're able to! cdjapan ・ amazon.jp ・ hmv

let me know if you notice any typos and other mistakes; (my comments)

-- What kind of album do you think it is?

京   One where you get it's DIR EN GREY just by listening to the intro, a strong one.

-- I had this unwavering feeling that as long as it's these five people any sound will be DIR EN GREY.

京   I think whichever song you listen to, you will soon be able to get that this is DIR EN GREY. But it was hard to find the final compromise [for us]. Compared to before it was different, we couldn't play shows, it took more time than before to record, even as we had many songs we didn't see the final goal for a long time. Moreover, we don't really talk [with each other].

-- That's true.

京    We were moving forward without having talks like 'let's do that with this'. That's why I think it was difficult to find a place where all 5 of us were overlapping as everyone was searching like 'which way?'

-- Did you have a specific vision like 'next I want to do this'?

京   Personally I had. I already said this earlier, but something rich which makes you realize it's DIR EN GREY already on a short listen. Previously, the album had very intense melodies/tunes, so with more emphasis on the worldview I wanted to express better the curent DIR EN GREY. Moreover there are already some albums with worldviews, so something not similar.

-- I already felt from the first song 'this is different from the previous works'. Was that your aim from the beginning?

京   It wasn't my aim, but I remember that I said 'I want a long song(s)'. It's the lowest number of tracks we had on the album so far. There's also no SE, but I think it ended up as something with a richness we haven't had before.

-- I think each of your past works don't belong/connect to each other, but this time it's an album that seems to extracts up to now DIR EN GREY's strong points. Yet, I feel like you didn't make it this way with this in mind, it became like this naturally.

京   Naturally... well it might've been like that, but that worries me in a way.

-- Worries? Why?

京    When something that only that person has comes out naturally I think it's really wonderful. But in my case, I can't be satisfied with that, the another me says 'you're not this kind of amazing person'. Like 'don't coddle yourself'.

-- Your usual pessimistic (I'm trash) ideology.

京   Yup. That's why this time I tried out different things when singing.

-- I really noticed that. That you tried some styles you haven't done before.

京   Being in a band for this long, 'Kyo from DIR EN GREY' is established, I feel that everyone would be fine if I just rehashed the things I've done before, but I wouldn't. I can't stand it if I don't pursuit yet newer ways of expressions. Actually, I'd prefer it if I didn't have to do it. It would be easier.

-- Like, it'd be fine to do that.

京    I would really be okay with that, but the other me wouldn't allow that. That's why I want to test myself more.

-- Your singing this time left the impression of becoming this album's personality/identifying element. For example the way you used falsetto in '13' is very distinctive.

京    But if you just listen to the voice itself it's really strange, there's a part that sounds like a joke. 'Mouai ni shosu' and 'Otogi' were like that, it involved a lot of trial and error to not let them sound like that (like a joke) and allow them to fit well.

-- A quick listen left a dark and heavy impression, but in a way it's an album of songs (as opposed to instrumental pieces). So it's easy to enter the album's worldview.

京   Ah, the sound is maniac/fiend, but I guess it's easy to listen to.

-- But in fact, I feel like I received/interpreted something positive from your songs.

京   That's... an unusual opinion.

-- Really?

京    Well, I can't really put myself in the audience' shoes, so I don't know. I just want to say that the thing I was shouting stopped feeling fesh or interesting. For example in the case of the 1st song 'Schadenfreude', until now I'd be shouting in the heavy parts of the song, but this time I'm attacking with the melody. In 'Perfume of Sins' as well, in the part where usually would be singing there's none. Changing things with things like that, naturally the amount of shouting decreased. You get a positive feeling from those things, right?

-- There's also lyrics. For example in your previous lyrics, there were many songs where the singing directs the anger and hatred towards oneself, but this time I think there's also connection with the different singing stance or direction.

京   That's true. This time it's... more of a panoramic/holistic feel.

-- It is. Before you were writing lyrics with questions to oneself or hurting oneself, but it's not like that this time.

京   It's not, right? If I had to say it's more like 'actually everyone has feelings like those right? Usually everyone hides them but everyone has them, right?'

-- So in other words, there's a nuance of trying to find a camaraderie. This might be why it gives you positive feeling.

京   But it wasn't done on purpose at all. I don't want to share feelings with someone like in 'I want everyone to think like this'. That's not what I'm hoping for.

-- It felt like singing to someone who was a lot like yourself. If someone like that heard the song it'd feel like you were saved.

京   Well... if there was a person like that it'd be nice, but I don't have feelings like 'it's for that person' or 'there must be someone who thinks the same'. I'm not holding any expectations towards other people or should I say I'm not asking for anything.

-- What do you mean by not asking for anything?

京   For example fans would say things like 'I'll follow you for my whole life!', right? In the past I was someone who took that very seriously. But, then in some point of that whole life they leave. And with people who said 'I'll be writing a letter everyday!' after a month there's no more letters coming. That's why... I don't want to have any expectations towards people, like 'that's how it is'. I was the wrong one asking too much of other people. So it's something I'm doing out of self-centeredness (thinking of myself).

-- So you're saying you're now living your life without taking a glimpse of how other people are feeling.

京   But, just a little bit somewhere, I might be having just a tiny 1mm of expectations.

-- I think that's natural. It's simply a human nature to keep asking and expecting even if you have been disappointed or have given up somewhere.

京   But I'm trying not to think like that. I want to be more self-centered.

-- This part of not wanting to hold any expectations towards people, it's like this loneliness-like thing is breeding through in some places. I feel like this kind of feeling is also on the album.

京   I guess that's what a band is all about. For example, even as we had a huge show in Budokan, when I get back home and eat by myself, I feel 'what was all of that?'. I think 'was all of what just happened a dream?'

-- The loneliness gets born there. A bit like, even as there were so many people there for me, now I'm all alone.

京   For fans the feeling is probably similar. After the show ends and they are pulled back into reality, it feels like '...huh?'. It's probably the same.

-- That's true.

京   There might be some connection through that part I guess. Depending on the person, for some the 'we've played at Budokan!' or 'we've sold this many CDs' kind of achievements might give them confidence, but I'm not like that. I really would like to be.

-- But I think those are lyrics of someone who cannot become like that (laughing).

京   Hahahahaha. But, that's kinda why I'm doing things thinking about myself. Be it the new music or shows.

-- Even if you do things thinking about yourself, why do you think you're able to continue the band for 25 years and release new music?

京   Uhm... often I'm envied by people like my kouhai (younger colleagues/musicians). They say 'it's great you can do things you enjoy'. But it's just that I've been lucky. I've been blessed with a good timing/period, band members, label, just that, the rest is the same with everyone else. It's not like I'm someone great, there's no reason to be envious of me.

-- I understand what your kouhai say. From the third person's perspective, you're someone who knows properly what you want to do and pushes to get it. And because of that there's a chance people around you might be bothered by it, that they might think it's troublesome or selfish. Even so there are still people around you because you're better than that.

京   Is that what people think?

-- At least that's what I think (laughing).

京   That's... well, I'm happy.

-- I thought why it is easy to enter the album's worldview is because you can express yourself without any pretending.

京   Ah... that's true. One thing I can say, no matter if it's Kyo in DIR EN GREY or Kyo in sukekiyo, I can only let out my real self. The truth is, I'd love to be able to have an on and off button and express in front of people a completely made up self, but I can't.

-- No matter what, the you who is the root/foundation will end up coming out.

京    The only way I can do it is to express myself by cutting off the part of myself and throwing it. Moreover, for the musician me and everyday me to be as close as possible is really hard, and with that it's also hard to deal/interact with people. Even if I lay myself bare doesn't necessarily mean other people will respond. That's how I've always been feeling.

-- I think it's not only you, everyone is like that in this band. You're the kind of people who are just not able to make music that would lie to the current you even if you wanted to.

京   That's true.

-- It's a good point of this band. At last, let me ask you how did you end up with the album title PHALARIS.

京   We're thinking about the title when the songs are all together, and this one fitted the image the best. I researched various torture tools and this is the one I wouldn't want to experience the most.

-- It was apparently made by a man named Phalaris.

京   In those days tortures were carried out in front of the people. They treated this tragic event as something to throw a revelry/loud celebrations for. When I was reminded about a scene like this I thought that a lot of distasteful bits people usually hide will come out there.

-- It's good to ask/hear story like this one from the person who chose to use such a terrible thing as an album title (laughing).

京   ......is that so?

[multiplefandomsblog]

Nagito has to deal with his dumbass s/o who set a fucking fire because they’re a dumbass

Yes I set a fucking fire, here is what I wrote when I was freezing in the outdoors to escape the plastic cheese smell.

I know this is bad but mind you, I wrote this with numb thumbs in the middle of March in the outdoors of fucking CANADA. EVERYDAY IS WINTER HERE DHSIJAOD

warnings; ^cussing.. , tw; no explicit detail of fire but more the aftermath of a fire, this is garbage but I needed to get out of my slump so this is my mind jumble(yes I have another slump), established relationship, y’all living together, kinda domestic? I guess? Set in the COVID-19 pandemic, wanted to make reader male but they’re more gender neutral, Nagito is a dumbass, but so are you, lazy ending, typos because my phone doesn’t have a good spell check, unedited, reader does an ultimate fail and fails life and cooking.

wc; 1.2k+ 

“Oh Jesus-“ Nagito ran in as soon as he heard the fire alarm blaring in the house. “S/o!? S/o, are you alright?” You let a groan that could barely be heard over the alarm. “Yeah.. yeah, it just- fuck, I’m sorry Nagito, it smells like burnt garbage here.”

Nagito opened his mouth with an ironic grin on his face, to which you shoved a finger to his face. “Don’t.”

His green eyes crossed to your finger, an awkward laugh erupting from the male as he closed his eyes. “You can read me like an open book, huh? Well, if you won’t let me say that; you have to at least let me apologize..! This whole thing was the consequence of my luck after all.” Nagito spoke, eyes apologetic, yet his tone had been weirdly cheerful.

You frowned, “Nagito, stoooop, okay? I was the one who set the fire, not you.” You tried forcing a gentle smile, though it crumbled into a guilty one within seconds. “To think I could make a nice dinner for you...”

Nagito’s smile faltered at your shameful demeanour. Hearing distant footsteps, you perked your head up, only to get a face full of his warm, cotton-covered chest. “It’s alright. I appreciate the thought that you wanted to cook for someone like me.” He uttered, arms tightening just a bit before he pulled back to leave a peck on your forehead.

“And we can always order take-out instead.” His care-free smile made you forget about the smell of the nasty smoke for a split second; for such a self-deprecating man, he truly had the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Oh.. O-okay.” You were slightly dazed, his dazzling smile had captured your consciousness and you had to be kissed one more time by him to finally snap yourself out of the daze.

“Nagito, what should w-“ he answered before you could finish, “Whatever you’d like!” His voice echoed out from the bathroom, the sound of running water following the nice melody of his voice. You assumed he had been running a washcloth for the stove you had demolished; after all—and he constantly reminds you of this—cleaning is the one thing he’s good at.

You smiled gently to yourself, he was a really really good boyfriend. Despite his ultimate, you were sure you were the lucky one.

Shaking your head and snorting, you went and ordered a pizza.

♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧ ♧

Not long after meaningless conversation, Nagito’s occasional findings of money, and tripping on literally nothing, the door bell rang.

You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, the delivery person had already left before you could even tip them. I guess this was the world now, pandemic and all; oh well, you can still e-transfer them tips.

As your excited orbs landed onto the brown paper bag of food, you felt your excitement falter for a second, instead replaced by confusion. The paper bag was large, much larger for the single pizza you had ordered. You may be thinking, well it could’ve been air— but no. There were small divers and creases in the bag of where something lumpy, or pointy had been protruding out of.

You hesitantly picked up the bag, turning your head to look back down the road to see if you could maybe call the delivery service back before they had gotten out of your neighbourhood.

You frowned slightly to yourself as the street had been eerily empty. Shaking your head, you internally groaned; it was probably too late for them to take it back.

You took back your thought of e-transferring that delivery person, tips.

Okay, fine- fine! You weren’t a monster, you were probably just going to give them a bad review... and a good tip.

They work really hard okay! C’mon minimum wage— alright, we’re getting out of topic here.

Taking out your phone, you walked back inside the house with the heavy bag of food, gently placing it on the table with your eyes glued to the screen.

Me: hi! I think you gave us the wrong food... what should we do with it? Do we give it back?

Delivery: We sincerely apologize for the mix up! But unfortunately, we can’t take back any food orders. So you will be getting a full refund and you can keep the food.

Your eyes widened at the screen in your hands, ‘holy shit,’ your eyes darted to the receipt they had stapled to the paper bag.

It had read, 130.95$ worth of food.

You almost couldn’t believe it, more than a hundred dollars worth of food, and a 13 dollar refund for a pizza? Now that’s a deal.

Still gaping at the receipt like a fish, your eyes darted to the tall man with white hair wiping the stove with a focused fervour. This must have been the consequence of having Nagito as your boyfriend, huh? Perhaps consequence wasn’t the right word, more.. benefit.

There were too many benefits to count, but this was a definite one.

You slowly returned your wide optics back to your phone, thumbs typing a slow answer.

Me: alright, thank you!

Though you felt bad for— what you thought was— stealing from the restaurant, it’s not like they could do anything. It was COVID! Who knows what kind of diseases you could have put in the food?

You told yourself lies to make yourself feel better- but the need for lies dissipated as you peaked inside the bag.

Suddenly you didn’t feel so guilty anymore, more like starving man.

“Ohmygod— N-Nagito, come quick!” Your eyes bulged out of your sockets as you fanned your hand towards you in a, ‘come here now’ manner.

His ears perked up at the call of his name, and he obediently placed his cloth back on the stove, feet padding on the floor as he made his way to you. “What happene—?” You tugged at his sleeve, ripping open the paper bag aggressively to show him the boxes and boxes of food, all stacked tall. The paper bag had already been ripping at the top from how much food there was, you only did it a favour by letting it finally breathe.

“... How much did you order?” He felt cold sweat at the back of his neck, his metal arm reaching up to brush back the troublesome hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“I ordered a pizza, a-apparently they gave us the wrong order, and so...” You stammered, too excited to speak properly. Gesturing to the bag for emphasis, you beamed, “Ta-da!”

To your surprise, Nagito had barely been dazed by the gigantic amount of free food. Why wasn’t he cheering in joy? Jumping in delight? Where was his reaction?

Fortunately and unfortunately for Nagito, he didn’t feel any shock as this happened quite often.

“Oh. I’m happy for you—” you cut him off, scoffing at his lack of reaction, “No, no, happy for us.” Looking up at him with a mischievous grin that had slightly worried the poor boy, you grabbed the bag in a hug and ran to the dining hall, crying out,

“Today we feast like fucking kings!”

Nagito laughed happily—worriedly, but happily—as he shut the front door you had forgotten about, the cold wind had been sending shivers down Nagito’s spine— though you seemed to be indifferent to it. He laughed as he realized you might have not noticed the freezing temperature, too invested in the gigantic amount of food.

Okay but just imagine the door shutting directly in front of the camera, and the screen goes black.

*roll credits*

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 58 - [NSFW] The truth behind the DIR EN GERY misprint, and a mysterious voice...

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, with this week's episode of the Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome...Um..

T: Ah!

J: What is it?

T: No way!

K: Its 'Young Jump'

J: Ah, Young Jump.

K: I think you already know about this, but we put an ad on it like this *shows back page*.

J: Oh, looks great!

T: Yeah, it does. Very impactful.

K: Its good, isn't it?

T: Yeah, great impact.

K: There's something a bit odd about it.

J: Haha

T: Huh? Where?

J: Eh? Something odd?

K: Yeah, its a bit strange. There's a bit of a mistake.

J: Is the kanji for Oboro correct?

K: Yeh, and this is right, about the release on the 28th of April.

J: And Wenesday is correct, right?

K: Yeah, and the explosion screening schedule is ok.

T: Yeah, it is.

K: The ticket price info is also all fine.

J: Yep.

K: After that there's only this bottom section.

J:Yeah.

T: DIR EN...

T, J: GERY, haha.

J: Has a new band formed?

K: We screwed up.

J, T: Hahaha

K: Its hard to believe, right?

J: Incredible. I did not expect this..Dir en gery.

T: I thought it was like a trick or something.

J: Oh, to make it go viral or..?

T: Yeah, going with Dir en gery.

J: Kaoru, what was it?

T: We'll find out about it here.

K: It was a total mistake.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Seriously? Eh? Really?

K: Yeah.

T: Does that mean it was done on a hurry, if its a seroius mistake?

K: Yeah, I guess so.

J: Well, Tasai, you work for a newspaper, and I also work for Rolling Stone, so we understand this, but our work is handed in for checking, you know, proof-reading. And they do spot mistakes, but honestly, I have never seen mistake of this size before.

T: Yeh. This is at the level of 'accident'. However, there is a case for saying that we cannot attack this. What I mean by that is that we too make mistakes.

J: Yes, thats true. There is that. Well, this goes for magazines etc too, but if you do proof-reading within the organization, for example, if the writer writes an article, the editor will proof-read it, and they may intend to, but if everyone is really busy with loads of other work, they will run out of time. Then they will get it checked by an external proof-reader. Even then there are sometimes still typos left over.

T: Yeah, there are.

J: There are, right? Human error happens.

T: Yeah, like if I misspell a name or something, I can correct it on the digital version, but on paper it appears on every copy out there.

J: Yeah..

K: But like this?!

J: Yeah, we say this, but we've never seen a typo this bad. Like, I've mistaken small details in names and stuff before.

K: Yeah, like Young Jump becoming Young JumP, right?

J, T: Yeh, haha.

K: Not like this! *points to 'GERY'*

J: Haha, this is...

*Sound of strange voice occurs in background - On screen text: 'What was that voice?! One more time.. (Clip of strange voice re-plays) No-one during the filming heard this. Its a mystery voice'*

J: Tell us what happened?

T: Yeah, lets ask.

K: Um, we had the design made, and the designer made the regular logo and put it down here in this fixed spot, so it looked as if the logo was done, even though there was a mistake in it. At the time, I wasn't looking at the band name, I was looking at the overall design, and ths impact it had. Like this image of Kyo from RokumaykanGIG. My eyes were drawn to the best parts of the design. It wasn't really designed to emphasize the band name. Its designed to showcase this top part, so I, like, didn't see it. Die didn't even see it, and he normally checks these really carefully. Even if we miss something, he normally spots it straight away. 

J: Ah, even Die didn't notice it! ???*1

K: Yeah. We were too busy checking that there were no mistakes in the tour schedule.

J: Yeah.

K: But the information is all correct, so if its just the band name with a mistake, well, maybe its ok.

T: This could become a really rare item in time to come.

J: Yeah, cause there isn't gonna be a misspelling with Dir en grey again after this. That point will be strengthened.

K: Not for a while yeah. A long time ago, we had a single out called 'Filth', and there was a mistake in the title of the song on the cover jacket.

T: Eh? So this is the second time this has happened to you?

K: Well...yeh.

T: Hahaha

K: Well, we occasionally make small mistakes *2, but...

T: This is big.

J: Can I suggest something? Good things come in threes.

K: Ah, terrible.

J: So there will be a third time to come, imagine it, it could be both the title and the band name with a mistake.

T: Hahaha

K: Well, what can I do about it now? If you buy the single 'Filth' even now, its still like that. So filth is spelled f-i-l-h..huh? h-f...um, it's..

T: ..t-h

K: f-i-l-t-h, but the i became f, I mean h. So because there were two h's I realised the mistake. If there really is only one h, it could be that they just made the letters look in that style, but they look the same to me.

T: Ehh? I want to line Filth up next to this magazine.

J: Yeah

J, K: Hahaha

T: Don't you have it here? Filth?

K: We do.

T: Lets put them out together!

K: When I saw this (*Young Jump*) though, well, I thought it was quite rare*3, it could become a talking point. If you take a bad thing in a smooth way, someone will notice, so I thought we could just go with it.

J: Brilliant!

K: And then I posted on Twitter, like 'Ooops'. And that was a photo of the actual magazine, so it really was like 'ooops'.

T: As soon as I saw your Tweet, I was like 'Huh?!' and I went to the convenience store and bought it. haha

J: Well, in that sense it is a rare item

T: Can we decide on the correct reading for this? How would you say it?

K: Ge-ri?

J: Dir en gery (ge-ri).

K: jeri? geri?

J: geri? jeri?

T: gari?

J: Its geri, right? Well, jeri is like..

K: In the basic form its geri, right?

J: Yeah. jeri might have to be 'Gerry' with two r's.  Which is best Dir en jeri or Dir en geri?

T: Should we decide? Even though it doesn't really matter.

J: Yeah

J: Dir en geri sounds like a struggling country rock artist or something, haha. Dir en jeri has jellyfish vibes.

T: The official name: Dir en Gery (jeri). haha.

J: I want you guys to do a joke live show as Dir en gery. You could switch parts, like Kaoru, you could be on drums.

K: Ah, but we did kinda do that once, we changed parts on stage. I just made a load of noise.

J: Ahh, so you could do that as Dir en gery somewhere officially and play one song.

T: Ahh, thats a good idea.

J: Do a cover or something.

T: You could do ???*4

K: Er, no. haha.

J: Haha, this will getting bigger and bigger.

T: But I heard recently at the MeguroRokumaykanGIG screening, Kyo said  that Toshiya used to play guitar a long time ago.

K: He was playing guitar the first time we saw him playing in a band...well, I don't know if he was playing it, or just waving it around a lot.

T: Yeah, Kyo said the stage was going wild.

K: Yeah, he wasn't playing.

J: So, when you guys switched instruments on stage, what did you do Kaoru?

K: Drums.

J: Oh, drums?

K: Thats the one I wanna try out the most.

J: So if you guys played as Dir en gery, Kaoru, you would be..?

T: Drums?

K:...Nah....*imitates playing the castanets*

J: Tambourine? Oh, castanets? So, it doesn't necessarily have to be the same instruments you play at the moment?

K: Yeah. As long as we play as a proper band.

J: Yeah, so Kyo could play the recorder..

T: Someone could hit the ???*5

J: Yeah, yeah. Oh, that would be good.

*The single Filth gets passed over*

K: I'll just get it out.

*K shows cover jacket to J*

J: Oh, here, right?

K: Can you see, there are two h's.

J: Yes. I see.

*K shows it to T*

J: The first h is a typo?

K: Yeah.

T: Its a bit difficult to spot though.

K: We didn't even notice, we thought it was just the design.

J: Yeah. Put them together now.

*K puts magazine and CD together*

J, T: Hahaha

K: By the way, it was the same person who designed both of these.

J, T: Haha

K: When he saw it he was so pained.

T: Its ok, ???*6

J: Ahh, well, it can't be helped though.

*On screen note: Again? (weird voice appears)*

J: Even if there is a spelling mistake, its conveying the atmosphere that is the main thing.

K: Yeah, thats the emphasis.

J: But on the other hand, you could say that as soon as 'Dir' appears, people recognise it as Dir en grey, even with this kind of misspelling. The name is that well know.

T: Hmm, yeh

K: Hm, well, yeh, if you look at it up to here. But for us, its impossible.

J: Well, I guess yeah. It goes for Rolling Stones too. For example, if the last n in Rolling Stones became an m, you wouldn't immediately spot it. If it came up all of a sudden, you would just think 'Ah, the Stones'. It's that kind of name recognition. You could see it in that way. But I didn't know it was the same designer who did it both times.

K: Our boss was pretty mad about it.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Really? I see.

K: He couldn't believe it.

J: Well, yeah. Its also the most important part.

T: Well, yeah, and cause its already in circulation.

J: Yeah. Well, everyone can keep it as a treasure.

K: Where's Kami?

J: Yeah, isn't he here?

Kami: Oh, Im here, I was just listening the whole time. People make mistakes, right?

T: They do.

Kami: This is just a mistake. So its wrong to point blame.

T, J: Yes.

J: Kami, have you made a mistake recently or something?

Kami: Im always making mistakes, and always getting into trouble.

J, T: Haha

Kami: As soon as you've made a mistake, it hurts, right?

T: Yeah, I know that feeling.

Kami: Yeah.

J: Yeah, the person who made the mistake knows it, you don't have to tell them.

T: Yeah, that hurts the most.

Kami: I bet if you made a mistake like this though, you'd get into big trouble.

T, K: Haha

Kami: I think you really would.

T: Well, heh, yeah. But if even Die overlooked this..its like a demon interferred..

J: Yeah, unbelievable.

K: But, anyway, Im taking it in a good way. Well, I mean, it's not good to take just any old thing in a positive way, but....its a bit like those remarks by Mori that we discussed recently.

J: Oh yeah.

K: Like how to move on with it.

J: Yeah, we can learn from that.

K: Yeah.

*Sound cuts out. On screen note: Suddenly, we were unable to record to voices. Was it linked to that sound we heard earlier?*

K: Um, the sound..

J: It seems as if the sound went off.

T: I wonder whether its to do with what we just talked about?

K: What, like, 'Stop this conversation?'

J: Haha, like from ths designer's perspective...'Please stop it!'

T: Haha, yeah, 'Please!'

J: So, what about the Oboro single?

K: So, we're at the last stage, just the mastering, and a little more discussion, and we're about finished. And then the packaging. Well, there's just a little bit longer till the 28th, about another month.

J: Well, Im looking forward to it.

K: Ok, lets finish here for this week. Thank you.

*On screen note: The voice that no-one, including the staff, heard during recording was recorded into the mic data.*

*1,4,5,6 Couldn't catch

*2, 3 Not entirely sure

To top

[ourkidswouldbemartians]

 My thoughts on 10x18, ‘Find Me’ 

(I’m trying to be as neutral as possible so there will be #Positivity and #negativity) 

When I first heard about the spoilers I was like HELL NO!! I’m not watching this load of shit! AMC can fuck off!! But then I stopped being dramatic and admitted that I am sucker for TWD and that no matter what this show releases I’m still gonna watch it anyway. I mean I’ve even watched the Morgan making cheese with a goat episode at least three times and on purpose so :/// 

So anyway I eventually watched this episode with the following mindset: if there’s anything storytelling has ever taught me is that drama and angsty arguments are part of the game, it gets worse before it gets better. I watched this episode telling myself: there’s a spinoff, think about all the good stuff that s10 gave us. 

I have made a list of what I found positive or negative and speculated some stuff about what the future may hold: 

Goodie :)

- Many caryllels between the past and present, between Daryl @ Leah and between Lea and Carol.  There is a reason for this I’m sure and I hope the writers will talk about it. 

- The fight wasn’t as bad as the spoilers made it seems, they’ll come back from it for sure.   A confrontation had to happen about the fact that Carol left several times and I’m glad it did, because that’s what Daryl’s most hurt about in the argument imo. I also think Carol doesn’t want to run anymore and wants to be where Daryl is (10x14 made it clear) but it’s sad Daryl doesn’t see it yet. And in this episode she says “I’m not going anywhere” which I feel is an emphasis about how her mind is made up: she knows where she belongs.

- Their banter was adorable, I just love how much Carol loves teasing him. And he teased her too!

- Carol is pretty

- The soundtrack was beautiful as always when they share a scene

- They’ll be ok again for sure... The way he looked at her when she left after the argument made me feel like he kinda regretted his words already. But that’s opened to interpretation. 

Baddie :( 

- Daryl was unfair to Carol but I wouldn’t say OOC, Daryl is not an angel, he’s a complex character who in this episode said hurtful things. He too has made mistakes that NOBODY is throwing at his face but it’s all about double standards with writers uh? 

- I still do not understand the purpose of Leah. I get it, Daryl was alone, lost, Rick’s gone, Carol’s married, everyone from Team family is scattered everywhere so he needed someone. I think he was even suicidal considering his behaviour during the storm... So I think meeting Leah made him feel better. But did it have to be romantic? We’ve heard a billion times that Daryl doesn’t do relationship so when it happens it will only happen once. So why giving him a relationship with no on screen kiss or sex? In one episode with almost no buildup?  Knowing that’s something everyone wants to see for Daryl (not necessarily w/ Carol)? I cant understand the writers’ choices. I simply don’t understand the motivation here. And I mean that without even thinking about what Leah means for Caryl. 

- It’s my fault for expecting this but I thought Carol may have had some kind of reaction towards the Daryl/Leah thing but she didn’t. But she was a bit taken aback when she found the note which makes me think she didnt know about the romantic aspect of it or that Daryl once felt like he belonged with someone other than team family

//////

Not ship related: 

- Carol was perfect in this episode. Beautiful. Talented. Brilliant. She broke my heart when she said “I just needed a friend” ... she feels so lonely, she deserves the world and she’s alone :( or feels like she is at least. Everything that happened with Alpha happened because her son got brutally murdered and for that she deserves nothing but understanding. She’s right for not being sorry. Anyway... I’m with her not matter what. I ship her with happiness first and I always will.

- The acting was on point. Nothing to say here, NR and MMM are simply stellar together. Leah’s actress is good too. And her character is likeable tbh. 

- The scenery was beautiful

/////// 

About the future: 

I don’t think all hope is lost for Caryl but I’m no longer 100% sure about them in a romantic way. They put an emphasis on the word friend in this episode and I feel they will conclude the L/D thing one way or another: Leah will be back. Carol has her knife in Diverged and Daryl said to Dog “we’re gonna get her back” which foreshadows her return. I see things possibly going two ways: they could restart their relationship, it doesn't work out / she gets killed off and that leads him to want to start over somewhere else and then he goes away with Carol (=spin off) OR: she comes back but it leads to a love triangle and he chooses Carol, they get together and Caryl is finally canon. 

In conclusion I am still confused, it’s a huge I don’t know for me. It’s not all bad, but not all good either. . I don’t fully understand the writers’ choices, in my case the only thing that could make me feel 100% hopeful about caryl being endgame is knowing what will happen in S11. So only time will tell I guess. We just have to wait. 

Caryl on and forgive my typos  ❤︎

[your--isgayrights]

Okay i actually have no clue on how tumblr works (hope I'm doing this right lmao) but I'm writing my first fic (I still can't really move on from orv so I decided to make my own content lol.), I really love your writing style, do you have any tips??

Hmmmm tips tips tips tips.... First of all I’m really flattered that you like my writing enough to ask me about it! I’ll try to give my best answer... I think that I used to read a lot of people’s “writing tips” but ultimately I ended up not really understanding them until I started writing a lot? Either way it’s fun to read how other authors think... It’s really cool that you’re writing your first fic and you thought to come to me... did I already say that? Okay long post under the cut.

I don’t think this will be all that helpful, but this is just things that I think about if that’s interesting!

For me a lot of writing is like struggling with motivation (I have ADHD so that’s probs why), I really have to pace myself while writing because I can’t just force myself to do it. If I go in every day and think “I have to write today I’m not doing anything so I should be writing” I can get burnt out really easily, even if I really like the thing I’m writing and know how it’s supposed to go. So one of my big things is that when I’m not thinking about writing I’m not thinking about writing. that gives my brain a break and refreshes me when I get back to my google document.

Something I’ve also struggled with having to remember is that there’s like. Never a perfect way to write. What I end up doing is thinking up ideas and fragments and sentences in my head and the very moment I think of something I like I have to write it down in my notes app. Most of my writing process ends up being like. Filling in the blanks and connecting the dots between scene fragments. 

For fics in particular I’d also just recommend rereading your favorite parts of the og work! I’m the kind of person who has a pretty good reading memory, so people may have noticed that I include a lot of little details referencing the text in my fic. Just reading the work kind of helps you remember the voices of the character and the style of the narration, and if you just like. internalize it. you can probably replicate it pretty well if you wanted to.

OKAY I say that but don’t worry too much about replicating things in the og work perfectly. I find that a lot of times when I’m writing I’m inserting a lot of personal touches and putting things that are a part of me in the work. Writing is always going to be like. an extension of your voice, no matter what you’re writing. I think that when I heard about stuff like that from authors in the past I was always like. What? I’m not writing about things that happened to me. I’m writing about grown adult men having emotional issues, silly. But there’s like a lot more nuance to writing about yourself, I guess. Like you don’t have to have like a self insert or be projecting onto a character to have yourself reflected in something you’ve written.

I’d say that like, whatever you write as your first fic is going to be lovely, but when you grow up as a writer and look back on it, you’re not going to remember who you were when you wrote it. I think that’s why a lot of people look back on their first works and are like “I can’t believe I wrote that, what was I thinking, cringe cringe cringe ugh.” Like I definitely do that sometimes, but I’ve found that the old work I’m happiest with nowadays is the stuff where I can recognize myself in it, even if I’m not in that fandom anymore or if there’s old jokes or typos I don’t remember making. 

With that being said, I’m the kind of person who always gives myself a mission statement when I’m writing. I sort of mentally go, okay, I’m writing this kind of thing, and this is why I’m writing it. It can be something like oh I’m writing this fluff piece because I love this character and wish they had a happier ending, or  oh I want to write this multi chapter fic exploring an issue touched on in the original work but I feel like with my own experiences I could expand on it more than the author did. Just something that tells me why it is important to me to write this thing when I’m writing it.

AAAH I feel like I made that sound more dramatic than it really is, that’s just how I think I guess. I’m the kind of guy where its like things need to have like MEANING to me when I do them. I’m dramatic and gay and that’s my personality I guess 😔.

Hmmm maybe it’s also my BIGGEST writing tip tho. Like kind of just thinking things through when you’re writing is pretty important. When I was first learning to write at all (talking about baby baby me here this is like sort of a side tangent sorry) I think that a lot of times I would copy phrases and developments that I had liked in things that I had read without really fully considering why I would include those things other than the fact that that was just what I thought writing was. It’s important to consider what importance every scene and sentence has to do with the flow of the story. Are they just things that are happening, or is there a reason that the audience needs to know these things? The weight of your words should have some sort of consequence as a result of you writing them. Are you telling the audience information they need to know? Is it about how the character feels? What does this say about the character? Etc.

I suppose that’s sort of my own writing style. You’ll probably notice that I don’t write a lot of descriptive prose if you read my fic. The thing about me is that I never want to write something that makes my audience question why they’re reading it, I guess. I’m sort of self conscious and think about the reading experience a lot. All of the things I choose to describe are usually so that the reader can understand where people are in the scene and what emotions they are having. There’s a lot of emphasis that I put in like. A reader’s ability to read into things, which works against me sometimes because I’m not always certain if people picked up on different things that I put a lot of thought into (the curse of being seen... sob).

ALSO use paragraph breaks. In my first fic (that I’m not going to tell anyone what is even though its on ao3 because im shy) the thing I always regret the MOST is that there are big chunky paragraphs that are hard to read through at the start. Like my eyes get lost. I mentioned I have ADHD before but even though I like. physically can’t read a big chunky paragraph I will always write them that way if left to my own devices. Paragraph breaks don’t have to just be broken up by dialogue they can be wherever you feel like doing them. You need a lot of them. This post should probably have more of them... oh my god it’s so long...

OKAY FOR REAL THOUGH IF YOU COULDN”T SLOG THROUGHT THE REST OF THAT THE MOST IMPORTANT TIP IS RIGHT HERE: 

JUST LET YOURSELF WRITE

I have a lot of like. academic trauma, so maybe this is just me, but the reason I didn’t write fic until I was like 16 was because I was always really scared that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be good enough for some impossible standard I was setting for myself. I was always telling myself that I had certain bad writing habits or that I was terrible for never being able to focus on things for very long and all of my projects were doomed to failure before I even started. But then I wrote my first like 8 chapter fic in the summer of my junior year and I was like... oh. that wasn’t so bad. Like. It’s okay to know your limits, but you don’t really know them until you start writing. Like I wrote an 8 chapter fic, and then a few one shots, and then I tried to take on a very complicated project that ended up being over 40 chapters and I had to put it down because I just wasn’t really at the writing level to finish it. I would advise against writing fics that take so long to write that you start hating the way you wrote the first chapter, basically lol. Know how whatever you’re writing is supposed to begin and end before you start writing it.

Nowadays I always have like. plot outlines in my head when I start a fic. Like okay this needs to happen here this needs to happen here etc. I like making lists if it seems to overwhelming when I’m writing something long, just to organize my thoughts. 

OKAY I JUST TALKED A LOT. SORRY IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO READ ALL OF THIS BUT I’M A LITTLE CHATTY IF YOU DIDN’T NOTICE.

Defo feel free to dm me if you have like questions or just want to chat about orv or whatever. I’m a lonely little man out here floating on my pile of words, and I’d love to hear what your fic is about!! 

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 3

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter three

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

--

always, always, always because of @thisonesatellite​​ and @profdanglaisstuff​ thank you AGAIN to the amazing team at @captainswanbigbang​

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) AO3 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

chapter summary:   Emma’s tracked down her suspect but then he looks into her eyes like he can see her, like he recognizes her--

And it’s a big fucking problem. She doesn’t trust him.  They are not a team.  No matter what he says or how blue his eyes are when he reads her like an open book.

--

“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,” James Hook said. “A woman such as yourself deserves my full and prompt attention.”

His voice was familiar; exactly as she had heard it in her dream down to the cadence of his accent.

“Does that line ever work?” Emma asked.

His eyes twinkled with appreciation. “I,” he said seriously, “will let you know, yeah?”

He was wearing eyeliner, kohl smudged around his eyes. Blue button-up shirt--partially undone, matched his eyes, would look even better on the floor--buttoned waistcoat, jeans that showed off his--

Fuck.

Emma needed a drink before she ended up like one of the co-eds.

“MacCutcheon,” she said simply.

“How do you like it?”

“In a glass,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Tough lass,” he said with a laugh, pouring her a shot.

“Yeah, well,” she said, picking up the shot glass and downing it in one. The condensation left a ring on the cocktail napkin. “It’s been a long day, and I’m thirsty.” She looked around, taking in more of the place--anything to look at instead of staring at Hook and his partially-unbuttoned shirt. “What’s with all of the swords?” Emma asked, gesturing at a wall covered in weapons.

The Rabbit Hole fell on the upside of ‘dive’, but only just barely. Maybe it was the Edison bulbs. The soft yellow glow gave everything a patina of ‘vintage’ instead of ‘grimey’. 

“And what are those, boat hooks?”

“Aye,” he said.

“What are you, some kind of sailor?”

“In another life,” he said, the fake grin stretching across his face, “I served in the Royal Navy.”

“You’ve practically got an armory in here,” she said.

“That’s the idea,” he agreed.

“You don’t seem like the type of guy to collect old-fashioned weapons.”

“Aye,” he said again, the eyes twinkling--again. “I collect blondes from bottles, too.”

Emma was a natural blonde--probably another legacy from one of her parents. She returned his gaze and said only, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

There it was: the real smile. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps I would. James Hook.” He held out his right hand to her, and Emma shook it, which was when she noticed that he only had the one.

“I know who you are,” she said.

“Ah,” he said. “So you’ve heard of me? Well, it’s always nice to leave an impression.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “You have. You’re handsome, and charming--”

“Do go on,” Hook said, shifting his weight against the back counter.

“The kind of guy who--now, stop me if I’ve got this wrong--steals a man’s wife and leaves a boy motherless, then keeps up the grudge by breaking into his home and stealing from him again.” Emma watched him during her recitation. This was her favorite part: skips always broke down when the hot piece of ass they’d been planning on nailing turned the tables and cuffed them.

Not in the fun way, either.

But Hook just looked at her, stepping forward again and bracing his elbow against the bar, his chin in his hand. His fingers curled against his upper lip, his eyes were wide and innocent, and the fake grin had returned; the change was so smoothly done it was--almost--imperceptible.

“Sounds like a lovely tale,” he said. “But I’m going to wager the truth is rather more gruesome.”

Emma was calm. She was focused. And he was not lying.

“Besides,” Hook said evenly, “I’m going to need you to be a mite more specific in your accusations; you see, I’ve had many a man’s wife.”

“And I need you,” Emma said, matching his tone, “to return what you’ve stolen.”

His smile--the fake smile--faltered. Just for a second. “Tell me something, love,” Hook said, leaning into her personal space, his eyes never leaving hers, “If a woman comes to you and begs you to take her away, is that theft?” He ran his tongue over his lower lip and winked at her.

“But--why would she leave him?” Emma asked before she could stop herself. The son, they had a son--

What were they even talking about?

“Because he was a coward,” Hook said easily. “Because she loved me.”

Emma pulled herself away from his gaze. Whatever was going on here--he wasn’t lying.

“So, lass,” he said, “you know who I am, but you won’t even tell me your name?”

“What fun would that be?” Emma said.

“If you’re helping Rump--Gold,” Hook said, with particular emphasis on the name, “I’m afraid you’re fighting for a lost cause.”

“I’m not fighting for anything,” Emma said, “except for my fee. Tell me what you know about Graham Humbert’s death.” She grabbed his wrist. “And I’m gonna let you in on a little secret--I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

“He came in here the other evening, on the hunt,” Hook said, biting down hard on the ‘t’. “He often did. It’s rather a target-rich environment, as you can see.” He gestured at the crowded room and leered. “That’s the last time I saw him.”

Emma smiled, the kind that showed no teeth, that was small and controlled, and tightened her grip on his wrist. With her other hand, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, unlocked it and scrolled to David Nolan’s entry. “He came here looking for you the night he died,” she said. “A fact I think the sheriff--” Emma held up the phone to show him “--will find fascinating, don’t you?”

He started to pull away, but Emma twisted his wrist just enough to put pressure on it--enough that pulling away would make a scene and potentially force someone to call the sheriff anyway. The singer finished a song to a scattering of applause, and Emma kept her grip and her gaze on Hook.

“Well done, lass,” he said. Emma let go of him and his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck. He had rings on two of his fingers and his thumb, and a freaking earring, a black stud. “You’ll be Emma Swan, then.”

“There goes my air of mystery,” she deadpanned.

“On the contrary, love,” Hook said, licking his lips again. “You’ve bested me. I can count on one hand the number of times someone has done that.”

“Is that a joke?” Emma said drily. “Because you’re a terrible liar.”

“Ask me what you’ve really come here to ask, Swan,” he said, and something in his face had shifted, like he had dropped the act of whatever part he was trying to play. His eyes were serious and the tone of his voice had lowered.

“Did you kill him?”

“I did not,” Hook said.

Emma believed him. Shit.

--

“Now then,” Hook said. “Emma Swan. Bail bonds, private investigations. Twenty-eight years old?”

They weren’t in the bar anymore.

According to the paperwork Graham had pulled, Hook had owned The Rabbit Hole for more than twenty years--clearly a typo as the man appeared exactly as Gold had described him: mid-thirties, no more, no less. It was difficult to picture him running off with a woman Gold’s age.

He’s older than he looks, Gold smirked, and had looked at Emma in a way that made her want to shower. And rather partial, I’m afraid, to brunettes.

Emma had confirmation of this, at least, when Hook had called out to a beautiful brunette in a micromini, tights and an artfully ripped t-shirt. Lacey, my darling, cover for me here, will you?

She’d laughed and given him--and Emma--a wink, and it was obvious what she thought Hook and Emma were doing, and why they needed cover. I’ve got this, Jamie, she’d said.

And he’d taken Emma to a small but immaculate office, dimly lit, rimmed with books, and offered her a chair with a bow before taking a seat behind the desk. She’s new, Hook had said of Lacey, but she does the job like she’s been here for decades. Something about that had amused him; Hook seemed consistently to be amusing himself with jokes only he understood. Any man who kept a skull-and-crossbones on the wall was definitely a man with an unusual sense of humor--in fact, this room had a distinct nautical theme, with a red flag draped above the black one and an honest-to-goodness ship in a bottle on his desk, and it was all a far cry from the badly-curated murder-tinged whimsy that made up the decor of the main bar.

“That’s oddly specific,” Emma countered. “Do I, like, get a prize if you’re right?”

“An educated guess,” Hook answered, and said nothing else as his eyes settled over her. Emma felt like she was being evaluated; not the first time that had happened, and she had no idea what he thought he was looking for.

“So, then,” he said. “Your Graham Humbert came looking for me.”

“He wasn’t my anything,” Emma said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Aye,” Hook said. “Of that I’m well aware.” He twisted his thumb against the metal of one of his rings and broke eye contact, looking down and away from her. “We weren’t friends, you know. Barely even acquainted. But you might say that we had certain connections in common.” Hook looked at her quickly and looked away again. “I hadn’t seen him in as long as I can remember.”

There was something strange underlying the words. Not a lie, but not the truth. And something about the phrase tickled Emma’s memory, like she had heard it somewhere before.

“He was involved with Regina Mills,” Emma said, realizing it at the same moment she said it.

“Indeed he was.” Hook made a sound, almost like a bark, and it took Emma a moment to realize it was a laugh. There was no amusement in it. “You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but she rather held his heart in her hands.”

Emma winced.

“Apologies, love,” Hook said quickly, and with apparent sincerity. “That was in rather poor taste, I admit.”

“You were too, weren’t you?” Emma asked instead of acknowledging his half-assed apology. “Involved with her?”

Another harsh laugh escaped him. “Indeed I was,” he said, “though not in the way you’d think. I did some work for the family. A long time ago.”

Emma smirked. “A man who used to be a sailor and now owns a bar?”

“‘Used to be’ is right, Swan,” he said, “but one might consider the bar payment.” He did that thing again, where he over-emphasized the harsh consonants. “For services rendered.”

“You realize you are the only one in this entire neighborhood who owns their property outright instead of paying rent to Robert Gold?”

“Am I?” He examined his fingernails. “That’s fortuitous.” It was obscene, the way Hook made words sound, but Emma knew a distraction when she saw one. This man used words as deflections, armor not unlike her collection of leather jackets.

“She came to see me,” Emma said.

“Did she?” That got Hook’s attention. “And what did you think of Her Majesty the Queen?”

“Her what now?”

“Regina, love. Latin.”

“You speak Latin?” Emma’s eyebrows definitely went up.

“And Greek,” he pointed out, smirking.

“They teach you that in the Royal Navy?”

“Something like that,” he agreed.

Emma’s head was beginning to hurt. This was shaping up to be the world’s worst first draft of “Who’s on first”--she wasn’t getting anywhere, and she needed another drink.

“What did she want?” Hook asked, and for the first time, there was genuine curiosity in his tone. He twisted behind him, pulling out a bottle, then repeated the process and came up with two glasses pinched between his thumb and forefinger, placing one in front of her. He pulled the cork with his teeth, poured himself a shot, and then gestured at her with the bottle.

Emma gave him a look.

“You’re something of an open book, Swan,” Hook said, the picture of innocent hospitality, “or did you not want another drink?”

“Regina wanted to know,” Emma said, ignoring his outstretched hand, “what I was doing about Graham’s death.”

“Don’t make a man drink alone, love.”

“I don’t want a drink,” she lied. “Or a man.”

Hook pouted. “Now who’s not telling the truth?”

Emma took the bottle from his hand and poured herself three fingers’ worth.

“I do find that spirits can be an excellent solution to so many of life’s problems,” Hook said with false cheerfulness, “so I am glad to see that you are making progress.”

Emma left the glass on the desk and leveled a glare at him.

“Are you?” he said, raising his eyebrows, “making progress?”

There was a knock on the door at the same time as it opened, and a young man stepped in. Nearly as tall as Hook, he had long, dark blonde hair that he’d slicked back, leaving some fringe to fall messily at his temples.

“Alright, Liam?” Hook said.

The young man--Liam--coughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, only Lacey said you were back here--”

“And you wanted to interrupt?” Hook asked, a mix of exasperation, fondness and something sharper in his voice.

Liam shrugged.

“Swan,” Hook said, “allow me to present my lit--younger brother, Liam, who was just leaving.”

Emma nodded at him, with his slightly-less-blue eyes and the curious way they watched her.

There was a look in Hook’s eyes as his brother walked out that Emma was not prepared to acknowledge. She pushed her untouched tumbler of rum back toward him and snapped, “Enough. Why did Graham come here to see you?” Emma demanded.

Hook shrugged.

“He tracked you down through property records,” Emma said. “Because the Mills Organization paid you in real estate for work you did for them a long time ago?”

“So it would seem,” he said.

“You know it says on the deed that you’ve been the owner here for as long as I’ve been alive?”

“Does it?” he smirked. “And yet I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

There it was again--not a lie, but not the truth.

He’s older than he looks.

Emma sat, toying with the tumbler she had pulled back toward her seat, running her forefinger around the ring of the glass and saying nothing.

“What can I say, Swan,” he said. “‘I contain multitudes.’ Not unlike your Graham Humbert.” He looked at her as though he was expecting a reaction; Emma stared at him.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Ah,” he said, as though to himself. “Not a believer, then--well, surely that will stop you getting killed.”

Hook considered her for a moment before tossing back his shot, then said: “Walt Whitman, lass. American poet.”

“Didn’t study poetry at any of the high schools I got kicked out of,” Emma said. “What does my listening to you recite poetry and mutter to yourself have to do with Graham?”

Hook shook his head. “Absolutely nothing, love,” he said. “Merely pointing out that you might be surprised by what they teach you in the Royal Navy.”

“You don’t know anything about what I believe,” Emma said sharply.

His blue eyes blazed. “I know that everything you think you believe is wrong,” he said.

“A man is dead, Hook,” Emma said. “I need you to stop fucking around and give me back whatever it is you’ve taken.”

“She’s dead, Swan,” he said sadly, the fire gone just as quickly as it had come, “and whatever that bloody crocodile has you looking for, I don’t have it.”

He had that look again.

Crocodile.

“Just like Milah, when the crocodile took her from me.”

“His wife?” Emma said. “Look, I’m sorry she died, but Graham--Graham was murdered.”

“Died,” Hook snorted. “Like it was some kind of accident--”

“That’s not what I said,” Emma protested, feeling suddenly on the defensive.

“--lass, it was no more of an accident than Humbert laid out in the alley.” Hook poured himself another shot and held it. “And you, Swan, helping him? I fear we’re working at cross purposes.”

“I’m just here to retrieve something on behalf of my client,” Emma said, exasperated and confused, “and to get paid Same as Graham, only he ended up dead and I would prefer to avoid that.”

“It’s a shame, really, Emma,” he said, apparently not listening. “I think we could make quite the team.”

“And what,” Emma wanted to know, “would our objective be?”

Hook paused and looked at her before he drank the second shot, and Emma still had no idea what he was looking for. He took a breath and said: “To avenge your partner,” he said, as if it would be that simple. “To exact revenge on the man who took my hand, Rumplestiltskin.”

--

“Swan!” Hook called, rushing after her. “Swan, wait up!”

Emma was ten or fifteen feet out the door of The Rabbit Hole when she doubled back quickly and pushed herself against him. “Whoa!” she cried. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

Hook smiled at her and pulled them closer together. “It’s about bloody time.”

Emma hit him. “I seem to have a shadow,” she said, gesturing at the figure running into the darkness--the one that had lunged itself at her and forced her up against Hook.

“I suppose,” Hook said, pretending to consider it, “that’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

Was the man insane? “Do you have any idea what you sound like right now? Who the fuck is Rumplestiltskin?”

Hook’s face fell. “I sound like a crazy person,” he said. “Apologies, love, I realize Humbert didn’t--” He paused, took a breath. “Would you settle for ‘dashing rapscallion’?”

“Excuse me?” Emma stuttered.

“As opposed to ‘crazy person’, Swan,” Hook pushed, and then leaned in closer at her continued silence, angling his head so their eyes were level. “Scoundrel, perhaps?”

He was close enough to--

He was very close.

“I think, Swan,” he said, very softly, his eyes boring into hers, “that you are not the only one with a shadow. Don’t turn,” he warned, “just look at me.”

The full focus of this man’s attention was nearly unbearable. Emma desperately needed to break eye contact and maintain her wits, which was how she noticed the red streak on his shoulder.

Where she’d grabbed him.

Unfortunately, that drew his eyes to the spot as well, and he knew immediately what it was.

“Swan,” he said, and he sounded disappointed. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” Emma insisted. “Just, the jerk who came after me must have had a knife or something.”

“Give me your hand,” Hook said.

“What?” Emma said, trying to pull away.

He wouldn’t let her. “It’s cut,” he said, getting impatient. “Let me help you.”

“No,” Emma said, taking a definitive step back. Hook countered by stepping forward, back into her personal space. “It’s fine.”

“Swan,” he sighed. “It’s not.”

And he ran his hand down her arm, curling his fingers around her wrist and lifting it for closer inspection, balancing her hand on his left wrist against his prosthetic.

“I’m not taking medical advice from a man who has named himself after a character in a fairy tale and who thinks my client can spin straw into gold,” Emma muttered. “Not even when he suddenly decides to be a gentleman.”

Hook’s face twisted, that already-familiar smirk pulling at his mouth as he took something out of his pocket. “I,” he said, and his tone was serious in spite of his expression, “am always a gentleman.” He looked at Emma through eyelashes that were thicker than hers were after several rounds of lash primer as he repeated his bit with the cork and moved to pour the contents over the small slash in her palm.

“What is that?” Emma asked suspiciously, then swore as the liquid hit her skin.

“It’s rum,” Hook said. “And a bloody waste of it.” He handed the flask to her before she could refuse and pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket, pressing it into her hand before Emma could try to pull away again and tying it off with his teeth.

Just--his teeth . Why?

His eyes never left hers, not even as he stepped away from her.

“He’s gone,” Hook whispered.

Emma sighed and took a swig of the rum in resignation. “Scoundrel it is, then,” she said, taking a definitive step backward and crossing her arms across her body in the universal signal for back off. Because she knew what he was doing, she had seen this movie before, and it hadn’t ended well.

They were not a team.

They could not be a team.

“Why were you following me?”

“I wanted to continue our conversation,” he said. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Emma shook her head slowly.

He grinned, shrugged. “And," he said, "I would like to see Regina Mills. I was hoping you would be so kind as to facilitate transportation.”

“You don’t drive?”

“I don’t drive a car,” Hook said. “It’s not by choice that I live here in the city, love, it’s by necessity.”

Emma felt her resistance wavering. “What makes you think I’d be willing to help you?”

“You seem,” Hook paused, as if searching for the correct word, “motivated.”

“What happened to cross purposes?”

“I look at this very simply,” Hook said. “I help you get what you want, and it gets me what I want. No more, no less. Besides, I find that I quite fancy you--when you’re not yelling at me, that is.”

“I don’t understand you,” Emma said.

“The mystique is part of my charm, I assure you,” Hook said, raising his eyebrows.

But she had already given in to whatever scheme this was, had given in the minute she pushed herself against him.

The minute he had held her arm and pushed into her space.

Emma gestured for him to go ahead, and they started walking to her car. Hook took in the careworn yellow Beetle with a grin on his face. “Quite a vessel you captain here, Swan,” he said, pulling the door open on the passenger side.

“It seemed like the best choice at the time,” Emma said softly, meaning it, momentarily hating herself for how wrong she had been--and how much this felt like the same beginning all over again. She ran a quick address search on her phone and came up with nothing; it was odd, given the extent of the Mills Organization’s influence.

“I know where she lives, lass,” Hook said. “I’ll navigate.”

Emma pulled out of her spot, the silence growing between them, interspersed at odd intervals with his muttered directions until he spoke. “You know, Swan, most people would find your silence off-putting, but I should warn you that I love a challenge.”

“No challenge,” Emma said. “I’m not looking for someone who’s gonna give his heart to the world, or some true love riding to my rescue.”

“But?” Hook prompted.

“I mean,” Emma said, dripping with sarcasm, “somewhere in the universe, there's gotta be a guy who'll keep me warm when I'm cold, feed me when I'm hungry and maybe, on occasion, take me dancing.”

“No,” he said. “That’s not it. You’re afraid--to talk, to reveal yourself.”

“Am I?” Emma said flatly. “What are we doing now? What happened to ‘a bit of an open book’?” She finished with a horrible imitation of his accent.

“You’re afraid to trust me.”

“Afraid to trust the guy who believes in fairy tales, Captain Hook?” Emma snorted. “However did you guess?”

“Bartender’s a sympathetic ear, love,” Hook said, “but I don’t need you to share. You have that look in your eyes.”

Emma’s entire body went still.

“The one,” Hook said, as if she didn’t already know--didn’t own a freaking mirror--hadn’t seen the look on his face that very night, “you get when you’ve been left alone.”

“Now I’m some kind of lost girl?” Emma forced herself to laugh. “Nice try, Hook, but my world ain’t Neverland.”

He made a noise, halfway between the unamused bark-laugh and a sigh, and said: “My point, Swan, is that an orphan’s an orphan.”

Emma said nothing, but Hook pressed on. “And True Love--well, that’s the rarest magic of all, or so they say. Have you ever even been in love?”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, took a deep breath, and lied. “No,” she said simply. “I have never been in love.” She pulled the car against the curb and turned off the ignition. “We’re here,” she said.

“Who’s the guy, Swan?” he said, and his voice was almost free of affect. She could--almost--believe he meant it.

“What guy?” Emma said, because fuck him and his open-book bullshit.

“The one,” Hook said as if it was obvious, “who left you with such a high opinion of me.”

Emma got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her.

--

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​ @optomisticgirl​ @eirabach​ @winterbaby89​ @stahlop​ @teamhook @iamlaxdris71 @snowbellewells​ @carpedzem​ @scientificapricot​ @ultraluckycatnd @therealstartraveller776 @wyntereyez @nikkiemms @searchingwardrobes​ @courtorderedcake​

[null-whump]

Felix –– Part Two

Continuation of my first story here. I’ll probably come up with a better name, eventually. Part one was mostly set up, and now we’re getting into the real whumpy goodness :) 

Continued here.

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing actual ‘torture’ even though its pretty mild, so idk how I did. I also did barely any editing, so theres probably plenty of typos. Anyway that’s all, enjoy.

Warnings: Mild language, whipping, asphyxiation, dehumanization (kinda)

Word Count: 1,650

“What sort of magic can you do?” The man, who I had come to learn was named Varren, stood with his back to me, shuffling through stacks of paper on a wooden desk.

I clenched my fists and didn’t respond. I had followed him into what appeared to be a study without a word, but only because I was forced to. I wasn’t going to be cooperative, not by a long shot.

Varren let out a long suffering sigh and turned back to me. “This will really be easier for both of us if you stop being so stubborn,” he lectured, stepping forward to stand in front of me.

I tried not to think about how much taller than me he was and hardened my glare. “You kidnapped me, and now you expect me to work with you? Why would I ever –“ before I could finish my sentence Varren’s hand came up and struck me across the face. I barely had time to recover before he grabbed my collar and shoved me against the nearest wall, hard.

“Work with me?” Varren laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I thought I made myself clear, boy. You work for me. You no longer have a say in what you choose to do. That is dictated by me and me only.” He pushed me harder against the wall, and I instinctively pushed at his hands, to no avail. “Perhaps I should show you just how little control you have.” Varren released his grip on me and I staggered, nearly falling over.

Varren’s lips pulled upward into a smirk. “Stop breathing.”

I didn’t register the command at first, still dazed from being slammed into the wall. It was when I tried to inhale that his words struck me. The shock of suddenly not being able to breath sent a wave of panic over me, and I struggled for breath, my panic increasing when my efforts proved fruitless. I fell to my knees, desperately grabbing at my chest where it felt as if my lungs had a cold fist around them. It seemed like an eternity had passed, and my vision way beginning to turn grey when a voice cut through the haze.

“Breathe.”

I gasped, and air rushed into my lungs. My chest heaved as my body frantically tried to take in the oxygen it had been deprived of. After several seconds of me gasping on the floor, Varren spoke again.

“I hope I have made myself clear, boy. I won’t hesitate to provide more…reminders, should you need them.” Varren paused, and I could feel his cold eyes on me. “Well? Do you understand, boy?”

For an instant, my resolve wavered. It would be so easy to just give him what he wanted. But the condescending way he looked at me, like I was less than human, the arrogant smirk he had as he brought me as close to death as he possibly could – no. I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

I lifted my head to glare up at him from my position on the floor. “I’m not some pet you can order around,” I hissed.

Varren looked unamused. “Very well then. We’ll do this the hard way. Get up.”

I reluctantly stood to my feet, his command impossible to ignore. Varren walked back to the desk, this time choosing to sit at the chair in front of it. He pointed to the ground in front of him.

“Get on your knees.”

I clenched my jaw so hard I thought I might break it as my body unwillingly did as he commanded.

“Much better.” Varren smiled down at me and leaned back in his chair. “Now, lets try this again. I am going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer them truthfully. Understand?”

“Yes,” I forced out through gritted teeth.

“I’ll start simple. How old are you?”

“About 16 in human years.”

Varren hummed in response. “So you’re older than you look, but still remarkably young…of course, thats hundreds of years for you, so it shouldn’t really matter.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Tell me about your magic.”

“Telepathy, stealth, and shielding.” I purposefully kept my answer short and vague. I knew that Varren would ask for more details, but I wasn’t going to reveal anything I didn’t have to.

“You are extraordinarily difficult, you know,” Varren said. “I’m sure you’re quite happy with yourself. Tell me all the details.”

I responded unwillingly to his command. “I can read unguarded minds and be almost invisible in shadows. I can form a shield that absorbs magical attacks and use the energy for myself.”

“Well aren’t you extraordinarily pathetic,” Varren scoffed. “At your age I would expect advanced telepathy at the very least. I guess it’s not just your body that’s stunted.”

I clenched my fists at my sides and forced myself not to respond. I knew that my magic was weak, but the way he said it was harsh in a new sort of way.

“Not to worry,” Varren continued. “We’ll fix that soon enough. For now, there are a few rules that I’ll expect you to follow.”

“What?” I blurted out the question without thinking. I was still trying to adjust to the position I was in, and now he expected me to follow rules? A voice in the back of my head told me that he could easily force me to do whatever he wanted, but I ignored it.

“I could simply command you to follow these rules,” Varren said, as if reading my mind. “But I won’t. I want you to follow them on your own.” His cold blue eyes locked with mine. “And you will follow them. It’s simply a matter of how much pain you want to go through before you decide to do so.”

My breathing hitched slightly and I felt my determination waver. Looking into his eyes, I could see that he meant every word.

“For the sake of time, don’t interrupt me,” Varren said. “Rule one.” Varren held up one finger for emphasis. “You will not speak without permission. Rule two.” He lifted a second finger. “You will not use magic without permission. Rule three.” Another finger up. “You will not eat or drink without permission.”

I felt my anger and indignation rising with every ‘rule’ Varren spouted off, but he kept going regardless.

“Rule four.” Fourth finger, up. “You will not sit, stand, or sleep without permission. Unless I say otherwise, I expect you to be on your knees, just like this.” Varren’s eyes narrowed. “That one is to teach you some respect, boy. If you break any of these rules, then you will be punished as I see fit.”

“You honestly expect me to agree to all that?” I snarled, relieved to find that I could speak again. “No way in hell!”

“That’s one rule broken,” Varren said impassively. “Would you like to keep going?”

I hesitated, but quickly overcame it. “I’m not your damn pet,” I growled.

Varren rose to his feet. “Perhaps your punishment should leave a more…permanent reminder this time.”

I didn’t have time to think about what that meant before Varren seized my upper arm and hauled me to my feet. He marched out of the room, half-dragging me behind him as I struggled to match his long strides. He didn’t say a word as he opened another door and threw me to the ground inside. I hissed in pain as I hit the floor, and tried to push myself up but was stopped short as Varren’s boot collided with my chest.

“Stay there,” he ordered as I coughed, my chest throbbing with pain.

I heard something behind me, but as I turned to look Varren seized hold of my arm and forced me onto my knees. I felt his hand grasp my shirt an instant before he tore it away, exposing my back to the air. I gasped in surprise, suddenly acutely aware of how cold it was in the room. The floor was cold stone beneath my knees, and the chill seemed to seep into my whole body. Varren’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Since this is your first time breaking a rule, I’ll only do ten.”

‘Ten what?’ Was my only thought before I heard a swish, crack and pain exploded on my back. I cry tore from my throat, both from surprise and pain. ‘Ah,’ I thought dazedly. ‘Ten of that.’ The second lash hit my back and I managed to restrain my cry, but the pain almost seemed worse than the first time. I grit my teeth and braced myself for the third.

Crack. More pain. I gasped, trying to focus on anything but the fire across my back.

Crack. I cried out again, unable to prevent it.

Crack. I cried out for a third time, and I could feel tears gathering in my eyes.

By the tenth lash, I felt like I was going to pass out.

“That should suffice.” I barely register Varren’s voice through the haze of pain. A hand grabbed hold of my hair and my head was jerked up so that I met Varren’s eyes. “I trust that you will remember this the next time you think of stepping out of line, boy.” He released my hair and my head dropped down to my chest. I vaguely noted that Varren was walking around me and heard the sound of the door opening. “You’ll stay here tonight.” With that, the door slammed shut, and I was left alone.

Slowly I moved to hug my knees to my chest and buried my head in my arms. The pain on my back was worse than anything I had felt before. The cold air bit at my exposed skin. I had never felt so exposed, or so alone. Tears flowed from my eyes, and I let them come.

[sibillascribbles08]

Uuuuh probably long, sappy Scruff fic

an AU where they were childhood friends, but when they meet up again Dareth doesn’t recognize Ronin, and Ronin doesn’t say anything

I’m writing this at 11PM so if there’s typos that’s why

“▒▒▒▒? What are you doing here?”

“Uh, tapping on your window?”

“Psh, you know what I mean. It’s almost two in the morning.”

“I um...”

“What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to say good-bye, maybe.”

“Good-bye? Maybe? What’s going on?”

“I can’t stay here. I’m leaving.”

“What? Did coming out to your parents go that bad?”

“...I haven’t told them.”

“You said–”

“I know, but I can’t, sorry... you... I thought about asking you to come with me but I know you have a future here.”

“▒▒▒▒, come on. Don’t go.”

“I can’t. I can’t keep living like this.”

“You don’t have to. We can figure it out just–”

“I’m sorry.”

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

When Ronin first saw Dareth again his heart got stuck in his throat.

It’s not that he forgot, no, he never forgot. You don’t forget your first and biggest crush that easily, no matter the kind of shit you go through. In fact, he thought about him more often then he’d ever admit. Sometimes he even used his connections to see what the man was up to. A rise and fall in career, off to run a dojo, and then running around with the ninja.

Part of him was surprised, but no, his personality didn’t seem to change all that much. If nothing else he was more carefree in his older age.

But as far as Ronin was concerned they’d never cross paths again, until he had to go and get mixed up with the ninja.

Looking back, stealing Zane and messing with their memories wasn’t the best idea. Of course they came looking for him when more disasters started cropping up.

Still, despite the shock that ran through his system when Dareth first came wandering into his pawn shop, he couldn’t help but get a flash of deja vu. Like it had happened before. Maybe because of that strange dream he had.

With his heart lodged into his airway, he held his breath. As if Dareth hadn’t been cute enough when they were teens, now he was just gorgeous. He still had dimples when he smiled, which he was doing a lot of as he studied the shelves. Big brown eyes, gorgeous brown hair, all complimented with his brown robes that had no business showing that much of his chest hair.

He held his breath so long he got dizzy and forced himself to inhale, hoping it wasn’t as noisy as it felt. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare. He just sat there, waiting for Dareth to approach, waiting to see if the man would even recognize him.

Maybe not, not as if Ronin looked at all the same as he did back then, but there was a chance right?

Eventually Dareth wandered up to the counter. He rested it elbow on it, leaning against his hand, eyes half lidded.

“Nice place.” Dareth grinned. “Don’t happen to have any spare trophies, do you?”

Ronin couldn’t stop himself. Habit kicked in because, of course Dareth still had the same habits he did in high school. How many times did he use that move to get Ronin to chuckle when he was feeling awful?

So once again he was laughing. Caught himself too late to stop it, but quick enough to clear his throat and pretend nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’ve stolen–er, acquired a number of them. Probably be easy to change the name plate.”

Dareth laughed this time, grinning wider. “Hah, I was kind of joking but that’s good to know. Might look into it when I get some spare money.”

Ronin crossed his arms, relaxing against the counter. “Have to build up your wall of fake accomplishments huh?”

“Hey,” Dareth pointed. “Some of them are real. Just like to... add emphasis you know?”

Ronin found himself smiling again. It felt so easy, so natural, like they hadn’t been apart for almost thirty years. Maybe Dareth did recognize him.

“So, what’s your name? Haven’t seen you in town before.”

Well, so much for that hope.

“It’s Ronin.” He answered. “And that’s all you need to know.”

“Ronin huh? Sounds familiar. Something familiar about you.” Dareth leaned in close again, squinting. “Can’t seem to place it.”

Ronin let out a nervous laugh and moved away. “Hah, well, I get that a lot. Eyepatch makes it hard for people to get a proper read on my face.”

“Swear you were in a dream somewhere.” Dareth hummed as he straightened up. “Maybe I’m remembering wrong.”

If they wound up having the same dream that would be something freaky. For now, Ronin ignored it.

“So, if you’re not in the mood for trophies can I convince you to buy anything else?”

“Oh? Just what would you try selling someone like me?”

“I have a killer collection of old records.”

Dareth gave a mock gasp. “How did you know that would get my attention?”

Ronin shrugged, but his gaze darted to the side.

“Lucky guess.”

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

Ronin told himself that it was a childhood crush. It had been almost thirty years. It was over. Done. Finished.

That’s what he kept telling himself when Dareth visited more and more often. It’s what he emphasized with Dareth accidentally broke his leg. It’s what he chanted in his head on loop whenever the man would check on him in the hospital, or back at his home. It’s what he whispered to himself whenever Dareth would leave, a smile from the earlier conversation still lingering on his face.

Damn it, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Why couldn’t he just grow up?

But part of him didn’t want to, especially where Dareth was concerned. Talking to him was effortless. He couldn’t even remember the last time he laughed this much.

And there was plenty of conversation to be had when he was helping put Laffy’s together. By now they’d developed some inside jokes, that left Nya staring between the two of them as they tried to cover up their laughter. There were paint fights, Dareth tossing ice down the back of his shirt, and at least two late nights Dareth convinced him to dance around the still-being-built dining room floor.

Well, even if Dareth didn’t remember him, it’s not like Ronin didn’t have a chance, right?

But somehow that felt deceptive, twice as deceptive as it normally did. The biggest reason he avoided any kind of long term relationship, apart from the fact he just sucked at them.

At some point they’d find out, and what would they say then?

Then again, Dareth already knew back then, at least partially. He’d been one of the few people Ronin could even trust with a secret like that. There’s no way the man would judge him for it now.

But that still left the matter of telling him.

Of course an opportunity would come leaping out at him over a pair of drinks. Laffy’s was long closed for the night, most of the cleaning done, but after a busy day like that Dareth convinced Ronin to stay.

For once he wasn’t overdoing it, but he’d had enough to start feeling tipsy. By now he’d shoved his empty glass to the edge of the counter so he wasn’t tempted to look for more.

“You ever been in love?” Dareth mumbled.

The question had come from nowhere. After a lengthy conversation on whether Tron needed a reboot or not, there’d been nothing but silence. Then that.

Ronin blinked, trying to get his eye to focus. In the end it just settled on Dareth. “Once.”

“Only once?” Dareth stare was full of doubt. “Come on now.”

“Only once.” Ronin said. “Would you believe it was on my childhood friend?”

Dareth hummed. “I guess I’d believe that. Strong bonds and all.”

Hah, yeah right. Ronin snorted, ignoring the urge to reach for his empty glass. “I ran away from home at fifteen. Last time I saw him.” Well, that was a lie, but Dareth didn’t need to know that yet.

“Huh? Why did you run?” Dareth frowned.

Ronin bit his lip, rolling it between his teeth. “I just... couldn’t keep living like that.”

His friend snorted, almost burst out laughing. “Funny, that’s what my friend said.”

Once again his heart lodged in his throat. “What?”

“I had a friend run away when I was in high school. They... they were dealing with a lot. I got it. But it still sucked.” He rested his face on his palm. “Sometimes wish I had run with them.”

Ronin rolled his eye. “Trust me Dareth, you don’t.”

“Oh? And how would you know.” The man looked at him again. “It’s not like you were–”

Dareth froze. His eyes went wide, mouth hanging open. He was looking at Ronin like he’d seen him for the first time.

Then recognition swept over him, then something else, as if he was in pain. “Ronin?”

Ronin ignored how fast his heart was racing. “Yeah?”

“Did you... did you used to know me?”

Once again he was biting his lip as he nodded.

Dareth stood up, nudging his stool back. “It was you! That’s why you looked so familiar. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Say what?” He ignored how his voice cracked when he spoke. “Part of me assumed you forgot me for a reason.”

“I never forgot you.” Dareth protested. “I just didn’t recognize you. I mean look at you.” He gestured from Ronin’s face down to his legs. “If you hadn’t made that comment and convinced me to take a hard look I still wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well, on one hand it’s a good thing I look so different.” Ronin kept avoiding eye contact, leaning on his prosthetic hand. “But sorry, guess I should have brought it up sooner.”

“Hang on.”

“Hm?”

“You were in love with me?”

His face slipped, and he would have slammed his chin into the counter if he hadn’t caught himself and sat up completely straight.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“W-well.” Ronin sputtered. “You just... were really nice you know.” He laughed, because that always covers it up, right? “And cute. But I was never... I mean I wouldn’t have...” More nervous laughter before he cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

He was hoping Dareth would laugh it off with him, but the man’s face was serious, gaze fixed on him. Ronin swore the room just jumped three degrees. He rubbed the back of his neck to get rid of some imaginary sweat.

“Do you still feel that way?” Dareth took a step toward him.

“I...” Ronin hesitated, not sure what to say. Instinct told him to keep denying it, but judging from the way Dareth kept glancing at his lips, that wasn’t the right answer. “Honestly?” He swallowed. “I’m... probably more in love with you now than I ever was.”

Dareth reached out, taking his right hand and sliding their fingers together. Ronin didn’t move, didn’t breath. He just kept staring until Dareth was so close that it felt rude. His eyes closed when their noses brushed together and he sighed when their lips met.

That contact had his brain dragging up a dozen daydreams. Before he could catch up he found his free hand sliding behind Dareth’s neck, into his hair, pulling him as close as possible.

Dareth responded by placing his hand on Ronin’s back. Their attempt to get even closer forced Ronin to stand up, not that he was complaining. It was easier to kiss when he wasn’t tilting his head so much.

Ronin let go of Dareth’s hand, putting both of them on either side of the man’s face as he deepened the kiss. Dareth wound up turning them both, pushing Ronin against the bar counter. The impact had him gasping, reminding him to breath.

“You know,” Dareth said as he kissed Ronin’s cheek and then his ear. “I always pictured doing this next to the jukebox the first time around.”

Ronin laughed, not bothering to stop the man as he moved to his neck. “Funny, my first day dream was always on the roof of my house.”

“You really liked me for that long?” Dareth kissed his collar.

Ronin sighed but forced himself not to melt under the contact as he pushed back. In a flash he had Dareth pinned against the counter instead. “Admittedly I forgot about it for a while, but then you had to show up looking fifty times more gorgeous than you ever did.”

Dareth blinked, seemingly surprised. “Hah, gorgeous? Ronin, I wouldn’t–”

“Don’t tell me I’m wrong.” It was his turn to kiss Dareth’s neck now. “No one’s ever taken my breath away as fast as you.”

“You’re one to talk.” He put his hand on Ronin’s cheek, forcing him to look back up. “Just look at you.”

“You better not call me pretty.” Ronin pretended to pout.

Dareth shook his head. “No, pretty’s not the right word, but I at least know it suits you so much more.” He ran a hand through Ronin’s hair, letting the strands fall back into place. “You just look so much more like... you.”

God, the most frustrating this about this man was that his words always wound up twice as gorgeous as his face was. Ronin tugged him back into a kiss, not sure how else to phrase his appreciation.

Before he could get in too deep a second time, however, Dareth gently nudged him back with a hand against his chest.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this.” His cheeks were stark red, the color reaching all the way to his neck. “But I thinking we might want to slow down just a touch.”

Right, that was probably a good idea. Hell, were either of them even sober right now?

“Want me to take you home?” Dareth offered.

Ronin snorted. “If you come with me what makes you think you’ll make it home.”

That blush was only getting worse. “Right.”

Ronin smiled and leaned forward, kissing Dareth on the nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dareth blinked a few times, as if regaining his composure. “Right, see you tomorrow, Roni.”

“Roni?”

“Uh, yeah, nickname.” Dareth grinned. “Don’t like it?”

Ronin thought about it for a moment. At least it was a change of pace to his codename that had just turned into his regular name. “Nah, it’s fine. Just don’t use it in front of the ninja.”

Dareth laughed at that. “Oh yeah, I can see how that would go. Kai would never quit calling you Roni.” He poked Ronin in the side.

He squeaked as he took a step back. “Hey!”

“Oh, so you are still ticklish in that spot.” Dareth kept grinning. “Good to know.”

“Dareth, don’t you dare.”

“Aw, come here, just want to give you a good night hug.”

“You do not, you liar.” Ronin darted away to keep his distance. The pair of them ran circles around the dining room, but despite being out of breath Ronin couldn’t stop laughing.

For the first time since he ran away he felt like he was home again.

[bronzeflower]

A Confession

@dads-typo​ I’ve been thinking about a sam/alice confession scene for a while now, so that’s what I wrote. Thank you for the request!

-----

Alice tied knot after knot, the red thread slowly weaving itself into a heart as Alice double and triple checked to make sure the knots were perfectly aligned. There was gold thread woven in for a special touch, and Alice delicately brushed a hand over it to make sure that it was solidly tied into the knot.

Alice went over the advice that Victor offered her. Or, well, more the rules that he gave her and explained in great detail.

One: Do it when there aren’t other people around. There was no reason for a confession to be public, and it might end with the person feeling pressured to accept, and that wasn’t a good start to any relationship.

Two: Allow a means of escape. One should not confess in so private of an area that the other person cannot leave if they feel uncomfortable.

Three: Be blunt. One should be completely open about their intentions and feelings, and they should leave no room for confusion, regardless of how oblivious the other person is.

Four: Give time for the other person to respond. Don’t take silence as acceptance or as a rejection. Some people take more time than others, but, if they take too long, one should really reconsider getting into a relationship with them.

Five: Prepare for rejection. If one is rejected, they need to be able to accept that gracefully in front of the person and then cry in private about it later.

All things considered, they were good rules. Victor did note that he didn’t think Sam would reject Alice, but there was always the possibility that Sam didn’t want to get into a relationship for one reason or another.

Alice sighed and figured confessing was a problem for tomorrow’s Alice, so she went to sleep.

Victor was one of the first people to greet Alice in the morning, so she brought out the heart knot to show him.

“Wow,” Victor awed. “This is really beautiful, Alice. I promise Sam is going to love it.”

“R-Right. Although, Victor, if I may ask?”

“Shoot!”

“Why prepare yourself for rejection before confessing? Isn’t that a little counter-productive?”

“I mean, you never know what the person’s going to say until you confess,” Victor said.

“But if the possibility of rejection is so high, why think about it?”

“When confessing, your priority should always be the other person’s comfort level,” Victor insisted. “You might be different, but I tend to have, uh, <i>very</i> strong reactions to being rejected, romantic or otherwise, so I have to prepare extensively for it so I don’t make the other person feel guilty.”

“I guess that makes more sense as to why you would put so much emphasis on rejection,” Alice commented. “Although, I do wonder why you have so many rules?”

“I get around a lot,” Victor laughed. “And I used to be in relationships all the time. None of them ever lasted too long though…”

“That’s...unfortunate.”

“It’s fine. I’m in Portia now. New place, different reputation,” Victor shrugged and gave a smile. “You’re gonna do great! I’ll even take some roses to give you some good luck!”

“You say that like you don’t buy roses every day.”

“What can I say? I love chatting with you! The roses are just a bonus!” Victor declared, and he left as they finished the interaction.

Alice’s nervousness grew as she waited for Sam to show up at her stand. Sam basically did so every day since it was on her patrol route, and, soon enough, there was Sam coming up and greeting her.

“Hey, Alice! How’s it going?”

“H-Hi!” Alice squeaked out, and oh god, was her heart ever going to go back to normal. “It’s doing alright. You?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, and Alice felt her palms begin to sweat.

“You sure you doing alright? You’re looking a little shaky there.”

“Ah, well,” Alice blushed as she thought about the heart knot in her pocket. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something…”

“Huh? What is it?” Sam asked, and Alice gave a precursory glance at their surroundings. She could see Victor up on the banister on the other side of the street, and he gave her two thumbs up. Other than that, there was no one around.

It was the perfect time to confess. Alice took a deep breath, and she reached into her pocket, attempting to will herself to stop shaking.

“So, I, uh,” Alice presented the heart knot towards, looking away from Sam as she did so. “I like you...a lot. Would you go out with me?”

There was silence, and Alice had to constantly keep in mind Victor’s fourth rule to keep herself from bolting.

Alice finally managed to get the courage to look towards Sam to find that she had a brilliant flush across her face.

Alice caught Sam’s eye, and the flush got more pronounced.

“Yes!” Sam sputtered out. “I mean, yeah, yeah, I wanna go out with you.”

Sam took the heart knot and put it on, admiring the knotwork for a moment before facing back towards Alice.

“I, uh, like you a lot, too,” Sam said, and Alice couldn’t stop the giddiness that rose out of her chest as she giggled.

Alice looked at Sam’s face as she reached out and gently took Sam’s hands into her own.

“You’re really cute,” Alice found herself saying, a sudden boldness taking over her, and Sam was really red at this point.

“I, uh, you, you too,” Sam managed to get out.

Alice couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face for the rest of the day.

[ahnsael]

@kjuw89 replied to your photo: “Isn’t she beautiful?”:

Crowds look light ��

They’re not bad. I was surprised to see 15 minutes for Pirates. On the Disney Parks App it then said that HyperSpace Mountain had a 20 minute wait, but it had just returned to 104 status after going 101 (for you non-cast members, that means it was working again after having broken down), and by the time I got there from Big Thunder it was up to 55 minutes and no Single Rider Line. I got a FastPass for 9:10-10:10pm, but then gave that up for a Small World FastPass that would be valid by the time I walked from Galaxy’s Edge instead when I decided I didn’t have the energy to stay that late today.

The highest I saw Smuggler’s Run was also 55 minutes, and that and HyperSpace Mountain were the two longest waits in the park. It was warm today (even though I heard people complaining about how cold it was when I left -- it was predicted to be in the mid-60s at the time, so I’m guessing they’re SoCal people -- we’re already down to the 30s at night back home, which is probably why I found a scorpion in our garage yesterday; it’s still warm enough during the day, but it’s cold at night and our garage is still warm -- also I used my blacklight that I use for IDs and large bills at work and saw that the thing about them glowing green under black light is true), but when i walked by Splash Mountain on the way to the Hungry Bear and then Galaxy’s Edge, the wait was only 30 minutes.

I forgot to mention Star Tours and the Jedi Thingy in the Captain EO theater on my list of things I did today, too. I walked in to Star Tours and waited less than 5 minutes on Standby. It was weird to see that the Star Trader is pretty much all Star Wars merch now (it used to just be the small part by the Star Tours exit into the gift shop). There was also a huge selection of Star Wars pins on Main Street in the music store (which is now mostly a pin store). So much Star Wars in areas of the park other than the Star Wars par!I

I also happened to time the Jedi thing just right after finding out the Space Mountain wasn’t doing single rider but hearing the announcement that the doors to the theater were opening.

I was one of literally three people in the theater, and I was really only there to sit in the old seats and pretend I was watching Captain EO. The cast member didn’t even bother with the microphone; he just stood in front of us and did his spiel “in person” to us.

I wasn’t exactly wowed by Smuggler’s Run. I was told to watch for flashing buttons and push them (I was an engineer, the last row), and I was focused on that for the first part of the ride until I realized that the bright green flashes were enough to get my attention if I wasn’t looking.

The down side: Without spoiling the story, there were two times I was supposed to press something specific (and two other times to hit a couple other things -- there wasn’t a lot of interactivity for the engineer position). The first time I pressed the button and it had the desired effect; the second time, I pressed it, but it stayed lit, and Hondo kept yelling at me to press it, no matter how many times I pressed it. I could see the other Engineer (another single rider) having the same issue at the same time.

The lady who grouped us asked me whether I was a rebel or part of the Empire, and I told her honestly, “I don’t know, I just walked into Galaxy’s Edge and came here.” And since I was a single rider, I don’t think anything would have been “remembered” for me anyway as they advertised when the land opened.

Another issue was the Play Disney Parks app.When I first opened it, I allowed location services only while the app is open...turns out you can’t get “achievements”  unless they’re always on (any time you turn the phone screen off, the app starts from scratch when you reopen it). And for the life of me, I couldn’t find a way to go back and change my preferences. Maybe it’s outside the app in the phone’s app settings.

Oh, and they still have the typo on the sign at the entrance to the Haunted Mansion display in the Opera House on Main Street. It still says “Kindly step all the way in to the explore eerie evolution of the Haunted Mansion’s design” instead of “Kindly step all the way in to explore the eerie evolution of the Haunted Mansion’s design” (emphasis mine -- I tried posting it earlier from the Opera House, but Disneyland’s wifi keeps going in and out and if you thought I posted a lot today, just imagine if half of them hadn’t failed due to a lost connection!). That typo has been there for months, I believe. Disney has its own sign shop. It’s an easy fix. They just haven’t done it. Has nobody actually told them? Would I be a jerk to mention it?

The only other thing that I was disappointed in was that when I got dinner at the Hungry Bear, the cashier asked whether I wanted fries, slaw, or onion rings. I chose the rings.

And then when I got my receipt, I noticed that I was charged an extra 50¢ for that choice, then saw on the menu that it said “includes fries or slaw” (onion rings appeared nowhere on the menu, even as a side dish). Seemed a dirty trick to not mention the upcharge when offering it. It is, at the very least, a sneaky upcharge

But...let’s be honest, if she had said “would you like fries or slaw, which are included, or would you like to substitute onion rings for 50¢ more?” I still would have chosen the onion rings. It’s not a ridiculous upcharge, I just think it should be mentioned at the time.

But overall, it’s been so long that things that used to drive me up a wall were...pretty much okay today.

When I was in line for Pirates, there was a lady ahead of me with a young (2 or 3 years old I think) daughter, and she was having a heck of a time keeping her daughter from wandering off, or bumping into those of us around her, etc. That used to drive me crazy.

And maybe it’s because I’m an uncle now and understand the struggle better, but...all I could think was “Hey, at least she’s trying. Besides, what kid DOESN’T do these things?”

I was more bummed about the group who tried to sneak past me in the FastPass line of Big Thunder (the cast member at the merge point saw this and made them wait until I was ahead of them, bless him), the people behind me in line for Pirates who were old enough to understand the concept of personal space but still kept walking into me, and the family in front of me waiting at the FastPass merge point at Small World who kept giving their 1-2 year old daughter an empty Coke bottle, just for her to throw it down again -- one of those times at my head (and instead of stopping giving it to her to throw, tried to tell her to throw it in another direction without so much as a “sorry ‘bout that”). But to the cast member’s credit, the one watching the merge point -- while not showing perturbation at the situation (her Disney smile game was strong), when she let us in she sent that family to one line and the rest of us around them to another line, and gave a brief but noticeable (to me) look of “I got you, fam.”

I had all these plans for what the first thing I was going to do was when I got there. The thing I did was the thing I didn’t plan, but I’m okay with it...I wandered some of the shops on Main Street. Partly, I was looking for a hat, since I didn’t bring one (I brought sunscreen, but...getting sunburned, then shaving my head, can result in “hairless dandruff” -- the peeling skin just being made to look awful by a razor passing over it). I may buy this one tomorrow:

Overall, though, I wasn’t a big fan of the hat selections available.

But I went into the Magic Shop (take that, Magic Kingdom, Disneyland still has a Magic Shop) wanting to buy a Hot Rod. I found it on the shelf right as the cast member started asking if he could help me with anything. I told him that the Hot Rod was the first magic trick I ever bought in that store as a kid and the first “real” magic trick I ever learned (this is true), and he said “And it’s still a great classic trick.” (If you want a cast member who knows every last bit of their merchandise, experience over the last 30+ years tells me this is the store you want to be in.)

I bought it (I have a guest at my casino that it’s going to blow away, even though it’s one of the easiest tricks to perform).

There’s a sculpture (probably about 6-7″ tall) of Peter Pan riding Peter Pan’s Flight that’s surprisingly only $55, and I may get that too. There was a great lithograph of the organist in the Haunted Mansion for $40...the problem with wall art is that for everything I put up, depending on the size, I have to choose one or two attraction posters to take down.

There’s probably more that I’m going to have to choose between (or order online later since they’re on shopdisney), and part of me is worried that, since I would do Package Pickup rather than carry the things (other than the hat) around all day, I might forget to actually pick them up on the way out. I could have them shipped, but I don’t know how much that would cost.

Today was more or less my test run -- if I was so exhausted by the end that the walk back to the hotel was a pain, I was going to pay the $25 parking fee and drive in tomorrow. But even after all that time awake, the walk takes less than a half hour. And once I crossed Harbor and then Disney Way and started walking down Disney Way, there was only one other pedestrian with me (it was a madhouse from the exit to that point -- I was far from the only one leaving early, but even though I never understood leaving early when I was younger and had more energy...I get it, especially for people with multi-day passes).

I wore a PeopleMover T-shirt, and one of the cast members at Hungry Bear complimented me on it, so that was good (I thought about wearing my T-shirt of an anthropomorphic Pluto walking a non-anthropomorphic Goofy, but decided I didn’t want a bunch of kids asking their parents questions about it; when I left work this morning I chose an understated WED Enterprises T-shirt, but even with my A/C on for the whole drive down, I was a sweaty mess when I got here and I wasn’t going to subject people to that).

My shirt choices for tomorrow: the aforementioned Pluto/Goofy shirt, a shirt that is a parody of “The Jerk” movie poster but with Goofy taking Steve Martin’s place and the title changed to “The Goof,” or a Captain R3X T-shirt.

Honestly, it’s probably between “The Goof” and Captain R3X. The other one might freak people out more than I would like.

Oh, and I have to look into Oga’s Cantina. Earlier I saw a reservation available for tomorrow evening, but...when it asked me to authorize a credit card guarantee, I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to (I know they charge you if you don’t show up, but...how much? And am I just guaranteeing being able to go in and have a drink and enjoy the ambiance, or am I required to buy a certain dollar amount of things, like the $200 you’re committing to when you reserve building a light saber or a droid?).

Speaking of which, I saw a LOT of people, in my 3½ hours there today, carrying around “custom droid” boxes.

Not that I’m surprised a lot of people are getting them, I’m just surprised they’re not having them held for package pick-up at the end of the day, choosing instead to carry them around.

The things I did learn today: I do NOT miss driving in Southern California. You know you’ve reached Southern California when the left lane is street racers holding racers through heavy traffic, when people are diving from lane to lane to try and find the fastest way to their destination, when people randomly slow down to 10 below the limit, then accelerate to 10 over when you try to go around them, and just the general feeling of claustrophobia of being in a sea of so many bad drivers that you have to scan them all to try to anticipate what stupid thing they’re going to do next so you can react before they do it because if you wait for it to happen, it’s gonna be too late.

I also learned that driving down on Highway 395 sucks. For more than half the time, it’s one lane in either direction (passing lanes are few and far between, and in the daylight there’s that “is that the water-mirage effect, or a semi coming? I have a dotted line and I can legally pass, but I literally have no idea whether it’s safe to do so and I am NOT dying on the way to Disneyland). And there is a TON of road construction (a good 25 miles is one lane TOTAL, with them alternating directions in that one lane).The whole area around Victorville is a complete mess. At the intersections (of which there are many), they open up to two lanes for the last couple hundred feet prior to the intersection, just to go back to one lane afterwards. Which means that a LOT of people who have been frustrated for 100 miles or more about their inability to pass are trying everything they can to cheat the system and get ahead somehow before the road goes back to one lane.

Don’t get me wrong, we have plenty of jerk drivers in northern Nevada. But traffic is sparse enough that I see, at most, five jerks a day. Most nights it’s just one, some nights none (the advantage of working graveyard is there aren’t a lot of people on the road, and we’re a small enough town that even “rush hour” means going 15 in a 25 zone at worst). But in SoCal, there are so many selfish drivers that it just...wow. It’s a lot to deal with when I haven’t dealt with it in so long (and since I’ve never driven south from the 395 to the 15 to the 60 to the 57 before, so it was all new road to me -- this was literally my first time traveling more than 3 miles south on 395 since I moved to Nevada, and that’s the highway my casino is on). The claustrophobia, when I knew I had no possible out if anything happened, was scaring me.

It’s great to be back. I mean, I’m home at Disneyland. It’s also going to be great to leave and get back to a small town in rural Nevada.

Oh, but I may be meeting up with disfan tomorrow. He hasn’t posted in almost a year here (hence why I’m not tagging him), but I met him in person six years ago at my third most recent trip (this current one being the most recent, then going with an old friend in 2015 where I didn’t see disfan then that third-most recent one in 2013), and it would be great to see him again. I’m still in touch with him from time to time, and when I thought I had a date he offered to do something to help make it special, and while the date thing didn’t work out (I got a text from her while I was on the road saying that she was “getting ready” but nothing since then, even tonight when she knows for sure she missed the boat to It’s a Small World -- I waited 30 minutes longer than I wanted to to leave in case she showed -- though I showed up just about 30 minutes after check-in time so it wasn’t too bad, since a review of my hotel on Travelocity said they charge extra for early check-in even if the room is ready and I don’t know if that would apply if I had missed some traffic and arrived 15 minutes early -- but her text was after I had already given up on her and gotten on the road -- her text was in reply to one I sent at the time we were supposed to meet asking if she was on her way, her reply came over 20 minutes later that she was “getting ready” but since I was driving I didn’t see that until I got here because I’ve learned no to do other things and drive), disfan was a gem. So...I hope I do get to see him tomorrow.

And if any of you Disneyland people who I know on here happen to be going to the parks Tuesday, send me an ask (I’m mostly mobile, though I am on a laptop at the moment, so an ask should show up on my notifications...but maybe to play it safe, add an X to the end of my tumblr name and make it gmail and get in touch with me that way.

I really do enjoy doing the park on my own (which is probably why I didn’t call her instead of text her when she wasn’t there -- plus there was some drama the morning before involving her roommate and I’m worried that may be a regular thing, so I might have self-sabotaged this “date” a little bit by not trying harder than I normally would with someone who I genuinely do like). But I also like doing the park with friends, and if we’re mutuals here we’re already friends (or if you follow me and I don’t follow you and you want to show me that we could be friends that works too), send an email.

I’ll be in the park most of the day (I can’t promise I’m gonna rope-drop it, because my Wednesday/Thursday is gonna be a LONG day driving home and getting there just about in time to shower and get ready for work, then I have a 9am meeting on Thursday, so I’ll have been up since whenever I get up and check out on Wednesday to get back up to Nevada for work), but I’m staying at least through the Electrical Parade. I don’t care about a projection-only show instead of fireworks, and there’s no Fantasmic!, but...the Electrical Parade will be good memories.

Oh, and Laughing Stock, Co. was listed in the times guide that I picked up today (as a “Fri-Sat” thing, no mention that those were their last shows; they’re gone now).

Anyway, my phone (barely) made it the 3½ hours tonight (and that included a live broadcast on Facebook of my ride on Small World from the front row -- which Facebook says they’ve “partially muted” due to the use of copyrighted music, but the song “It’s a Small World” was never copyrighted -- it was written for UNICEF, copyright-free, as a gift to the children of the world.

Oh, and when I rode Small World, they were grouping two boats at once on the same side (that’s “bote” to you, Ian...unless only “botes” with names like Irrawaddy Lady qualify for that title). But as I was the first grouped into the second boat, and the cast member just said “row 1″ which put me with two other people (that row can comfortable fit three), I waited until he was done grouping and then asked whether I was in the boat with the two other people, or waiting for the next boat.

Hey, I was ODV. I can make you a great churro or box of popcorn (I really need to get some popcorn tomorrow -- a Disneyland trip isn’t complete without it), but I don’t know a thing about balancing boats.

At first, he just said “You’re in the second boat.”

And then, after a few seconds, he said “The only way you’d be in their row with them is if you were in their party.”

And...I got it. They were both ladies (one young, one older), and he was saying “we’re not going to put some strange guy in there sitting next to them.”

The only response I had was “that’s probably for the best.” Because he was looking out for his lady guests by not putting some strange guy next to them.

I mean, I know I’m not a danger to anyone with whom I may ride It’s a Small World, but he doesn’t know that. And he acted accordingly, and I dig that. Plus, it gave me a chance to balance y phone on the front lap bar (since I was the only one in the front row on my boat).

Must-dos for tomorrow:

HyperSpace Mountain

The Jungle Cruise

Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye (single rider, hopefully -- I’ve already translated everything in the queue)..

Peter Pan’s Flight (but probably only if I can book a FastPass)

Waiting in the Standby Line for Smuggler’s Run(I hear the queue is amazing, but the single-rider queue is just a series of hallways and stairs).

Haunted Mansion Holiday (even though Jack should have his own darned attraction by now and leave the Haunted Mansion alone).

Splash Mountain (maybe last? I have a bad habit of being placed in Row 1 and I tend to make the front end heavy and the splashes are huge -- especially for me, and I’m gonna have my cell phone on me)

A grand circle tour on the Disneyland RR

Walt Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room (this was what I thought I would do first today, but I worried about staying awake...last time I saw the show was the abbreviated version at Walt Disney World so it will be nice to see it in full again).

The Submarine Voyage with Finding Nemo (I had no interest in that but I’ve seen a thing on how they did it that I want to check out, but also part of it is still underwater so I want to try it).

The Sleeping Beauty Castle walkthough

The PeopleMover (that one’s not gonna happen it’s been gone for over 20 years and I am NOT risking a lifetime ban to go up and try to walk the track that is still there)

Matterhorn Bobsleds

All Fantasyland dark rides

Meet a nice lady and invite her to dinner at some place not Blue Bayou, since that’s booked, but maybe somewhere nicer than the corn dog cart (just kidding -- I couldn’t even get a seemingly nice lady to join me for a trip to Disneyland, even though I had one day’s cost covered through a friend and was willing to foot the bill for the other and I had made it clear that the room I booked had two beds [which it does] and that “things” would not happen UNLESS SHE WANTED AND INITIATED IT [I PROMISE I’M NOT BITTER about her not showing AS I SAID I MAY HAVE SELF-SABOTAGED THAT BY NOT TRYING HARDER TO GET TO TO COME WITH ME WHEN SHE DIDN’T RESPOND TO MY LAST MINUTE TEXT but the concept of dating as daunting; forgive the self-pity but I’d actually have to be worth it for a date to happen and I’m wasn’t worth it to her).

Walt Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room (I’m back to “things I must do now)

Dole Whip

Maybe the lobster roll from Harbour Galley?

Popcorn

Maybe stopping my rambling for a minute (y’all know that isn’t gonna happen -- if you didn’t see it, it’s because Disney’s wifi crapped out again and I thought I posted it but it never posted).

But seriously, if any of y’all are there and want to meet, I would throw out every one of these to spend time with you (I’m so lonely!).

[hexdream18243]

Fanfiction: Is silence golden?

Writing took me a lot of time, translating even more. So PLEASE tell about any mistakes and typos, thank you! I hope you will like it! ^^ Enjoy your life! Genre?: Like always in my work comedy/fluff? Relationships: logicality, logince (friends - platonic) Warnings: Em, brief mention of food and death I guess... Let me know if I should add more... World: HumanAU, SoulmateAU Word count: 10561 Summary: Logan is fully satisfied with his life. He has a loving family, a loud but good friend and he is living according to his daily routine. There is only one small drawback. From birth he has words written on his forearm which are the first sentence his soulmate will say to him. It would be ideal if he was able to READ them. But does he have to?

AO3 link

Logan woke up, sit on his bed, stretched and looked at the clock on the desk. It showed 6:30 am. Exactly how it should be. In half an hour it will ring, informing him that it’s already 7 and, if Logan does not want to be late for school, then he has to get up. Of course, unnecessarily. His biological clock was waking him up in the right time for a long time. That’s why he could now calmly and unhurriedly get ready for a school.

He started by changing pyjamas into his everyday outfit. When he was removing his blouse, his gaze went to his left forearm. There was a black inscription around its center. At least he knew that it’s probably inscription because it looked rather like series of randomly combined strokes and dots, in addition very fine and curved. If somebody told him that it is message in Morse code he would have believe in it. Unfortunately it wasn’t. How did he know it? Because he checked it. Morse code was more regular and recurrent. However, he was certain that black pattern was an inscription, because the appearance of it at his birth meant that he has a person related to him with their soul, his soulmate. It was a message, the first sentence said by his soulmate to him. His answer to that will create a soul-bond between them. If they will realize that these are the words. However, to make it possible, Logan should be able to READ them. Unfortunately, apparently, the everyday handwriting of his soulmate’s probably no one was able to decipher although many have been trying. This is his wonderful luck.

He shook his head and sighed, dressing up. Long sleeve of blue shirt hid his forearm. He also put on a dark tie with stripes and pants in a similar shade. He knew that the tie was an unusual addition to the school outfit for person in his age but when he did not wear it, he felt the emptiness around his neck, which was unpleasant, very annoying, and it forced him to constantly rub his neck. Useless feeling, easy to prevent. Before he took his steps to the bathroom, he put on his glasses to be able see clearly more than a meter away.

Then he was able to read anything from the papers hanging around the room. They contained various hand-written information in field of physics, chemistry, astronomy and mathematics. Handwriting was straight, beautiful and precise. Logan glanced at them, feeling proud that it was easy to read. Valuable calligraphy lessons and countless hours of exercises have paid off. Now the probability that his soulmate would not read the text of their part of the bond was very small. Thanks to that, they had any chance to recognize themselves.

When he left the bathroom, it was already 6:45am. Perfect time to make a breakfast and possibly read a book before he has to leave. Satisfied with his simple plan, he went to an empty, quiet kitchen. There was one dirty plate in the sink. His mother had left it when she was preparing herself to work in the morning. Logan washed the plate and made himself a breakfast. During that time, he managed to finish the last book he read – a historical criminal story – and choose the next one – one of science-fiction genres. Exactly at 7:30 am he was ready to leave. He locked the door and staying on the porch, he realized that his day routine is interrupted. He usually went to school by himself, in a nice silence, but now, in front of his house stood…

“Hello, glass-nerd!” - Roman waved enthusiastically. Logan sighed heavily and adjusted his glasses, approaching his… eh… his friend.

“Why are you visiting me at this time? Your place is closer to school than mine. By coming here you only have added himself more distance to go that does not seem to be profitable.”

Roman grinned.

“Well” – he started with emphasis, throwing his hand to the side instantly. – “I have to assure you, that I have my reasons to come here even if they are simple.”

Logan rolled his eyes but encouraged him to speak.

“I understand that you will share these reasons with me even if I don’t want to?” – he asked, starting a brisk march. Roman joined him.

“It’s very likely but I see that you inwardly want me to tell you about them!” – Roman immediately began to speak, not allowing for comments. – “Listen to a story that will satisfy your curiosity. My adorable, the sweetest on the whole world, wonderful the youngest sister made a brave decision to sweeten our lives and arrange for the whole family a concert at five o’clock in the morning. None of the family members could ignore her so we all had to get up and listen to it. It was incredible, although I personally think that she could use some lesson in the matter of breathing because at the end of a half-hour concert, the poor girl was beginning to be out of breath. Only thanks to that our mother managed to arrange a break. However, the emission of the voice was unearthly! It was impossible not listen to it. Well, but our little artist returned to interrupted sleep at 7 and I realize that the performance is over, I have nothing to do, but I am ready to go out. So I decided that coming for you would not be a waste of time, especially in such a beautiful weather.”

Roman was right, the weather was pretty. It was a bit cool, sunny autumn morning. The wind was responsible for the lower temperature than expected. Logan could agree that walking on such a day was good idea.

“Isn’t your youngest sister around one year old?” – he asked with furrowed eyebrows after a moment.

“Yes, she is, why are you asking?”

“So, translating from your to a normal language, the child woke up at five am and started crying, waking everybody, and when she went back to sleep, it was too late to lie down again, right?”

Roman snorted irritably.

“After skinned my speech out of all poetry, yes. This is the hidden information.”

“Perfect.” – Logan smiled, happy that he worked out so, in his opinion, overcomplicated story.

The further journey passed in silence, unless Roman began to speak. Somehow, they didn’t have any interesting topic of conversation that they could develop, so they were talking about random things. They were close to the school building when Roman was finishing talking about a new play, which he intend to put out with a theater group:

“… You will see, he will be genius in this role, believe me! Also, if tomorrow on rehearsal it turns out that the new one is talented, then maybe…”

“The new one?” – Logan interrupted him for the first time in a long time. – “I didn’t know that someone joined you recently.”

“That’s how you are listening to me!” – Roman said irritated. – “I’m sure that I told you that when…” – he stopped for a moment and thought about it. – “Oh. No. We have not talked since then. So, listen to me. In our school is a new boy, I don’t know since when, he could started only recently. He joined our group yesterday and he looks promising even if we didn’t have time to see him in audition. He took us by surprise! Nobody is showing now! From what he said, he supposedly recently moved to our neighborhood. Anyway, it seems to me that you should meet him by himself. Maybe HE is your type.” – Roman snorted, seeing his friend’s offended face as a response to his words. In the meantime they entered the school and stopped next to the students’ lockers.

“It sounds like I have no idea what kind of people are my type. I don’t want such insinuations, I am very aware of that! The fact that I do not decide to be, even for a ‘try’ with a person who isn’t my soulmate doesn’t mean that I can’t define someone’s attractiveness!”

“Ok, good, I get it, calculator professor.”

“I am not a professor and my calculator…”

“Easy, it’s just a joke.” – This time Roman rolled his eyes, raising hands in a gesture of surrender. – “You should stop taking my nicknames so literally.”

“I am trying.” – Logan adjusted his glasses, glancing sideways.

“Anyway, lessons are going to start in a moment, so I have to go. We meet after them, ok? I’ll introduce a new member to you! See ya!” – Roman turned and ran to his class. Logan sighed and followed to his own. It’s not like he did not like or hate Roman. Of course, he sometimes was getting on his nerves but he was good and, contrary to appearances, bright man. They knew quite a lot about each other, nothing surprising if you know somebody from childhood. Although then certainly no one would call their relationship as a friendship. Hating or strong disliking (no physical fights!) would be a better description. Of course, with time these feelings began to change. Especially when Logan realized that Roman’s comments in school’s discussions about required reading weren’t as nonsensical as he thought at first. They simply came from a completely different point of view, which although different, wasn’t after all worse or incorrect. The final thing that gave the chance for their friendship was that Roman liked to read poetry and, despite some problems with interpretation of more difficult texts, he respected it and played it wonderfully. Logan just couldn’t feel envy to people who liked poetry. To be honest, Logan took the first brave attempt to repair their relationship which ended as a total failure (he wanted asked Roman what he thinks about a poem they were analyzing in English classes but they started arguing about the message) but Roman probably understood his intentions because after that was only better. Now, people have problem to even imagine that they weren’t talking at all not so long ago. After all, quarr–fierce discussions were still happening to them, but it also had its charm. With such an optimistic thought Logan could started his classes.

A few hours later, he finished. Due to the fact that both of them had classes on opposite sides of the building, they didn’t see each other during lunch breaks, spending it mainly among their classmates. Now, however, Logan was standing near the library, which was close to the exit of the school. It was their standard meeting point. The boy, expecting that he will have to wait a moment, took a book out of the bag, leaned against the wall and began to read. He made sure that he is leaning against wooden board not a normal wall. Even if he only touched the paint parts with his back, he would have a cleaner on his head, complaining over his ear that nowadays the kids don’t respect walls and common property at all. Thank you very much, but no.

Strangely, he heard footsteps of his friend much earlier than he thought. He recognized Roman’s but he guessed that the other one belong to the new member of the theater group. That explained why they were approaching him without talking. Good manners required that at the first meeting the third person present a couple of people and previously everyone keep silence. Thanks to that you could get to know the name and you have time to think about the first sentence. In a world in which it had such a great significance, it was necessary to form appropriate behaviors. When the newcomers stood by Logan, he used some random flyer as a bookmark and looked up at Roman.

“Well, we are here!” – he said. – “Forgive us our delay but the new group’s guardian had caught us on the way. He had a brilliant idea and he just had to share it with us.”

Logan nodded, accepting explanation. For now, he was fully focused on his friend, so only from the corner of his eye he could see the figure standing next to him. However, as the glasses do not cover the full visibility of the eye, the figure was smudged for him.

“So, let’s get to the formalities.” – Roman cleared his throat and stepped sideways. – “Logan, I want to introduce you to Patton Murphy, the new one in our school and group. Patton, here is my friend, Logan Berry.”

Logan finally looked at the boy, and at that moment, he could surely say that with quite a good result he is CAPABLE of judging someone’s attractiveness. Person in front of him was amazingly attractive in his eyes. He wore blue T-shirt, simple brown trousers, grey sweater tied on the shoulders and grey sleeves which hid his forearms. He definitely shouldn’t exert such a captivating impression on Logan but he did. Short brown strands of hair fell into his eyes of a similar shade. He was looking at him from behind the glasses with black frames. Those eyes. These were the most mesmerizing eyes he looked at. At the beginning, they seemed brown, but when he looked closer, still being besotted, he noticed that there were glimpses of blue and green in them. Anyone who would like to portray them would have a big problem with putting this color. Especially that after a moment of staring at each other, Patton smiled and that made him look like a source of life-giving light and he had sparks in his eyes. Logan was sure that if he would check the brightness in the corridor, he would find out that area near the boy is brighter by a few units. The view only took him out his breath because he had already forgotten how to speak.

Patton opened his mouth and said his first sentence:

“Hey, we have the same glasses!” – he shouted enthusiastically pointing at his frames.

Logan just nodded because he still couldn’t gather himself. Yes, they had the same frames, which he did not notice before, busy with the processing of what he sees.

“It’s cool!”

Again, Logan could only nod but this time he managed to change his face expression. He wasn’t sure if his attempt to smile was successful because he only felt the twitch of the corner of his mouth but even that made Patton grinned at him widely. Roman luckily realized that his friend had apparently lost the ability of talking for some time so he came to the rescue. He knew that in a moment the conversation (rather lack of it) would be weird.

“Listen, Logan, you wouldn’t believe in it. Patton a few minutes ago, even if we still haven’t seen his acting skills, he has already generously agreed to help us with making decorations! And you know that we’ve never complained about excess people to work on this issue. Rather opposite.” – he turned to Patton. – “You are like an angel sent to us!”

Oh, yes, Logan would gladly agree with the definition of Patton as an angel. This word was the best to describe… Wait, one moment, what?! What is happening with him? Usually it was Roman’s field to react and think like this, would it be that is happening what he feared so much for so long? Roman’s personality started to affect him? Why now?!

Roman’s statement made boy laugh.

“I wouldn’t call myself an angel. I just love to make various things! I’m happy to help you with decorations, especially since I haven’t had a lot opportunities to do such a thing for a long time. In my previous school, the plays were rather modest and didn’t need much preparation. They often used a projector.”

Roman needed to catch his breath.

“WHAT?! How could they?! This is a DISHONOR! Don’t worry my dear, with us you will be able to work with such a flourish as you want. We never stifle the creative spirit! You will see, tomorrow we’ll start the preparations. We’ll also check what we need and we have to do. I’m sure you’ll be the best of the bests!”

Patton laughed again. He was turned to Roman but every now and then he was glancing at Logan as if he was waiting for hear him saying something. Logan didn’t notice this, he was still occupied by trying to remind himself how to use vocal chords. It was starting to worry him. The thought of whether it is possible to permanently or temporary loss of voice on someone’s view was in the back of his head.

“Thank you, it’s very nice of you!”

“Soon you will understand why I’m so sure about it. Our gratitude to you is already huge.” – Roman caught Logan’s shoulders in a strange gesture. Probably it should stressed the seriousness of his words. Words which sense has only now Logan comprehended. He frowned, finally taking his eyes off Patton and looked at his friend. At that moment, Patton’s phone rang. He quickly glanced at it.

“Oh no! It was really nice to talk with you but I have to go on a bus! See you around, Roman, Logan!” – And before someone said something, he ran down the hall to the exit.

“Our gratitude?” – Logan asked. – “Since when am I part of a theater group?”

“Em… So, you see…” – Roman glanced away and scratched his neck nervously. – “There is one small thing I want to ask you…”

“No. Not again” – Logan said firmly and went to the exit.

“But Logan!” – Roman groaned, caught up with him and continued walking.

“You know how it ended recently! I don’t have time to organize yours play. Do it by yourselves. I have never joined your group for rational reasons.” – He opened the door stronger than needed and almost shut down it at Roman. Luckily, the boy managed to catch it on time though he had some difficulties to stop it before it damage his nose. When he got out of school, he caught up with Logan again.

“It wouldn’t be like that again, I promise! Anyway, that’s not the point, May is responsible for organization, she’s really good at it.”

“Yes, she is, I know because I taught her that when I didn’t have time for anything. I had to have some help”

“It’s just about decorations!”

Logan stopped in a half-step.

“Decorations? And I? I have never thought I would hear it from you.” – He continued walking. – “You know that my artistic skills are limited only to applying equal layers of paint. What do you need my help for? Rather, you do not want me to draw anything, right?”

Roman flinched and winced at these words.

“No, I don’t want to, it would be a tragedy. I’m not going to change a play to adapt it to your skills. Even if your mouse once was really good.” – He referred to the situation when they were sitting side by side in a boring roll-call and drawing charades. Logan looked at him heavily.

“It was a dog.”

The boy ignored this comment and returned to the previous topic.

“I want to ask you to make banners.”

“Banners?” – It was intriguing.

“We need two or three large banners with the title of the play and maybe some smaller version for other use. You are the only one I know who can write so perfectly! I would like you to do them!”

“You need a readable but decorative handwriting, I guess?”

“Exactly! There are three people who can do it but in my opinion you are the best candidate!”

Logan knew that Roman isn’t stupid. Paying someone compliments that they feel that their skills are irreplaceable is one of the standard tactics to get what you want from them. Even if Logan was aware of existence of tactic that doesn’t mean it was less effective. Especially that Roman really meant what he was saying.

“Okay, I will consider it.”- By saying it, he was already sure that he’ll do it and that wouldn’t be just writing banners. He knew this group, when it comes to the point it will turn out that he is involved in production as well as a full member. Theoretically, it would be a lot easier if he was a member but that would also require from him participation in the auditions and rehearsals. He would rather avoid it. He didn’t have time to learning additional scripts, roles, that wouldn’t be useful for him in the future. He knew from Roman after theirs sessions with poetry that was a risk that someone would give him a role. Not as a main character, of course, but even a side or a background character was a problem. Especially when play was a musical.

“Great!” – Roman punched an air in a gesture of triumph. –“You won’t regret it! And Patton will be there too and from what I’ve seen, you will not complain about his presence.”

Logan cleared his throat.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on! Anyone who would see you then, would easily have drawn the same conclusions as me. You like him to the point that you were lacked of words! I’ve never thought that I would see you standing like a statue and saying nothing.”

Logan didn’t mention that he just forgot how to speak.

“However, from the way Patton looked at you, this feeling is reciprocated. You will be together, I foresee it.“

“How he was looking at me? I didn’t notice anything” – Logan murmured in a low voice.

“You were rather busy absorbing the view in front of you, just like Patton.” – Roman snorted. – “If it doesn’t mean that you two are connected, I can eat my own costume. I’m pretty sure that he is your soulmate!”

“Roman, it’s very unlikely that fate chose me and him to be together.” – Logan’s heart sank slightly at that thought. – “We would rather recognize each other.”

“You think so? The only one who said anything was Patton and you have no idea what the words of your soul-bond are! When you finally say something to him, then it may turn out that I am right.”

“Only then.”

Roman scoffed.

“I don’t understand why you do not believe me.” – He looked to the right. – “Ups! I went too far. Okay, I’m turning here. See you, dear civilian!” – He turned into one of the side alleys, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. But Logan didn’t want to think right now, so he pulled out a book.

He soon arrived home. After opening the door, he almost ran into his mother, who was preparing to leave. The woman a little shorter than him, dressed in a white suit with brown hair cut to the chin was just putting one of her shoes. She struggled to get her balance when she had to avoid the door.

“O Logan! You are back already.”

“Yes, I am. Are you going somewhere?” – He entered the house and stepped back to the wall to make a room for a woman.

“Yes, your dad again forgot his lunch to the work. Someday he will faint from hunger and I won’t be around to feed him!” – she murmured under her breath. –“Dinner is in the kitchen, you should heat up the soup because it may have cooled down already. I’ll be right back, maybe on the way here I will also go to the store. In two hours the washing machine will finish, so please, take the laundry out if it if I still won’t be here.”

“Okay, mom.” – It was obvious, that she won’t be back before the end of the program. She is going to the store? It will took some time. In the meantime, she managed to put her other shoe.

“I’m ready.” – She grabbed the container that laid on the ground. - “Goodbye, sweetheart!” – she said and left.

Logan ate a dinner, took care of laundry and then did his homework. He preferred to finish it as fast as possible. The story in his book was near a plot twist, he was sure, and he knew if he do not do his duties right now, he won’t do them at all. He just had put his pen down after writing the last answer when he heard his phone’s sound. He reached out to see who was texting to him.

From: Roman Prince Logan! I need your help! I forgot to top up the phone card after the last call and I don’t have funds on my account. I can text only to people who are free to me and I have to tell Patton about the meeting tomorrow!!! Can you do it for me, please??? The meeting is after 7th lesson in a class 176 or in the auditorium. The second one only if it will be empty so rather the classroom. Thank you in advance!!! His number: 070-XXX-XXX

Logan sighed. It wasn’t the first time. Roman had a tendency to forget that he should top up his phone from time to time.

Sent as: Logan Berry All right, I will send him this information.

From: Roman Prince Cool! <3 AH! Please, save his number, you may need it in the future ; ) Really, this situation can happen again.

Logan rolled his eyes but he added Patton’s number to his contacts. He also sent a message.

Sent as: Logan Berry Hello, Patton, this is Logan Berry. We met today. Roman introduced us. He gave me your number because he asked me to tell you that tomorrow’s theater group meeting will be after 7th lesson in a classroom 176 or in the auditorium. However, the auditorium is doubtful. At this time of year conferences and teacher meetings take place there.

He put down the phone and wanted to hide his notebooks when he received sudden answer.

From: Patton Murphy Thaank youu! : D but why Roman couldn’t text me by himself?

Sent as: Logan Berry He probably got involved in the conversation and forgot about his account. Now he don’t have any funds and he couldn’t top up it and this matter is important. Anyway, this is not the first time I’m passing his messages to people.

From: Patton Murphy You are like his contact box? ; D

Sent as: Logan Berry You could say that.

Logan hesitated before he sent it. He wanted to explain why and from when he started passing Roman’s messages. This involved many erroneously transmitted or not transmitted information that led to many problems. He even started writing an explanation but he realized that he won’t finish it quickly and that this is not interesting for Patton. So he delated everything and ended up with one brief sentence. He thought that this is the end of their conversation but he got another text.

From: Patton Murphy Will you be at the meeting tomorrow??? ^^

Logan was sure he wasn’t needed tomorrow otherwise Roman would have told him. It was mainly about Patton’s audition, maybe they were going to give roles as well. From what he remembered from the morning, the group had to choose the tone in which they will present the play, which was directly related to the style of decoration. Nothing he could help. His presence doesn’t make sense. It was a waste of time. He should write that he wouldn’t come. Only that his rational part of personality didn’t have power right now because in the message he sent was:

Sent as: Logan Berry Yes.

The next day in the afternoon, Logan was heading for the stairs to get to the second floor to the room 176. For lack of better idea, he analyzed his conversation with Patton from yesterday. Boy didn’t text back when he confirmed his presence but why would he have? He got an answer, the end of the conversation. Apparently, it was indifferent for him. Or answer didn’t pleased him. It was possible, you probably do not texted back to the person you do not want to see, ‘It’s horrible that you will come, maybe you will change your mind?’ unless you want to show bad manners. Patton didn’t seem that way. Logan, brooding over this, set foot on the first step when he suddenly heard call:

“Logan! Hey! Wait!”

He turned around. Patton was running down the hall to him. The sweater followed him like a cape and Logan was surprised that it had not yet untied. The knot had to be solid. When Patton, panting, finally stopped next to him, he nodded in greeting.

“I’m so glad I finally caught up with you! I wouldn’t believe it is possible to walk so fast!”

Together they went up the stairs and Patton despite a slight shortness of breath did not stop talking:

“I saw you before, halfway down the hall but I guess you didn’t hear me then. I’m so lucky to run across you here! I have no idea where is this classroom, I’ve wanted write to Roman but I reminded myself that he rather wouldn’t write back. And then I thought about you, that you will probably know and suddenly bum! I saw you! It’s like magic!”

Logan smiled slightly listening to this. Patton grinned.

“You have wonderful smile Lo! You should smile more!”

Logan rolled his eyes and he wanted to answer but he couldn’t because Patton didn’t finish yet.

“Ah! One more thing! I want to apologize to you that yesterday I didn’t reply to your last message. I wanted, I really wanted to, but I was a bit distracted and then I totally forgot that I didn’t do that!” – he said with a perceptible guilt in his voice.

They were on the top of stairs. Logan turned into the corridor leading to the classroom and he wanted to assure Patton that he did not mind, he didn’t even expect an answer when suddenly somebody bumped into him taking his breath away.

“I’m sorry!” – The tiny and short black-haired girl who collided with him pulled back to look at him. It was May. – “Oh, Logan! Sorry, I didn’t see you, I was just going down to help…” – She looked at Patton. – “Patton!” – She cried surprised. – “Here you are! Only a moment ago Roman told us that you may not know where our class is! I wanted to help you find it, especially since it’s more like a closet and it’s easy to get lost here.”

Patton smiled and waved.

“Hello, May! You didn’t have to be in such a rush, I am with Logan. He agreed to show me where it is!”

“Logan?” – She threw him a surprised look. – “Are you going to the meeting? I thought that after the last thing, you gave up with helping us for good. I’m not surprised in it, it’s quite difficult to forget the ton of work that has been thrown at you.”

Logan tried to answer but May didn’t notice that, so he stayed silent. She just continued.

“After all, I’m glad I found you. Come!” – She grabbed their hands and carried them with herself. When they entered a small room, they were immediately separated. May released Logan and carried Patton to the guardian. Logan stood at the side of the wall so as not to disturb anyone.

“What’s up, doc? I didn’t expect you to come.” – Roman came to him.

“Me too. Yesterday Patton asked me if I would come and somehow I replied that I would so I’m here to not break a word.”

“You talked with him?!” – Roman’s voice sounded slightly squeamish than normally. – “And?”

“And what? We just texted”

“Text?” – Roman repeated disappointed. – “Not good. Logan, seriously, there is no sense of romanticism in you. If you want to go somewhere with your relationship then you should say something to him!”

“What do you mean by ‘go somewhere’? I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you should!”

“Where?” – Logan asked confused.

“It’s just a trope! But I still maintain my opinion that you two will be together. Just look, he’s looking at you right now!”

Roman nodded toward the center of the room where Patton was talking to guardian. When Logan glanced in that direction, he noticed that indeed the boy was watching them stealthily. When they looked into each other eyes by accident, Logan blushed slightly and quickly turned his gaze back to Roman.

“It doesn’t mean anything yet. Please, it just doesn’t make sense. Could you give it up?”

“No! No, when I see that you fit together!”

“Roman!” – Logan lost his patience. - “I know him for two days!”

“It’s a lot! People tend to bond even earlier.”

“If they are soulmates. I told you already, the probability that we are bonded…”

“Stop” – Roman interrupted him. Logan glared at him but he ignored it. – “If you are so convinced about it then finally say something to him. Then we’ll find out. Unless you still have tendency to lose your voice next to him?”

“If I promise it, will you leave me alone?”

“Yes”

“In that case, fine. I will try to talk to Patton in the near future. Normally.”

Roman grinned.

“Ok. Remember, I hold you to your word.”

Immediately after these words, guardian called him. He left a friend and ran to take part in the second part of the audition. In the meantime, May asked Logan about various issues related to the organization of the play. She was supposed to do it alone now, so she needed some advices.

The meeting passed very quickly. Patton was considered as a very promising beginner, although he needed more practice. For now, he got a minor side role. The rest of group also got roles. Roman of course received one of mains. In addition, they decided that the play will be presented on the basis of contrasts. Logan listened to everything that was happening, advising May in the same time. When guardian announced the end of the meeting, Logan wanted to fulfill his promise and go to talk to Patton but his target almost immediately ran out of the room as if someone was chasing him. Logan only saw him disappearing behind the door. When Roman approached him, he asked:

“Why was Patton in such a hurry?”

“From what he said, he had to go for the bus.” Logan nodded understandingly.

He came home with Roman and several people from the theater group but he rather didn’t talk to them, letting his thoughts wander around various topics. He didn't even notice when people split up with him and he returned to home. The sound of the text message woke up him. He was surprised that the message was from Patton.

From: Patton Murphy Forgive me Logan that I ran out without goodbye, I had to go on a bus! I wasn’t even be able to thank you for showing me the way to the class!

Logan smiled at the screen and moved from hall to his room, while texting back.

Sent as: Logan Berry No problem, I was going there anyway. And in the end, May was a person who showed you the way.

From: Patton Murphy Maybe, but you were first! Oh! And I didn’t know that you are not a part of the group. Why did you come to the meeting then? Are you going to join?

Sent as: Logan Berry I never officially joined the group because I did not want to get a part. Often, however, I am asked by them for help in the organization although I hope that this time they will manage to do that by themselves. You asked me if I would come, so I decided to come. Roman asked me yesterday for help in creating banners for decoration.

From: Patton Murphy So, you will help with decorations too? We will be able to do them together!

Sent as: Logan Berry Not completely. We make banners at the very end when we know where and when the play will take place.

From: Patton Murphy You can always help us with other things. It will be fun!

Sent as: Logan Berry I am not so sure. I can slow you down because my skills in this area are quite limited.

From: Patton Murphy If you can’t do something I can always teach you! <3

Sent as: Logan Berry This is a very generous offer, although I do not know if Roman would be happy with it. I am afraid your effort could go to waste.

From: Patton Murphy … Why?

Logan wasn’t sure if Patton asked why Roman would be dissatisfied or why his effort would have been wasted. Anyway, the answer in both cases was the same.

Sent as: Logan Berry Roman is aware of my skills and once he tried to teach me something. Finally, I was described as: “A hopeless case with no grams of aesthetic painting skills and talent for manual work.”

From: Patton Murphy Not very nice.

Sent as: Logan Berry Unfortunately, but this term exhaustively describes me in this matter.

From: Patton Murphy You definitely can do something! We’ll find something, you’ll see.

Sent as: Logan Berry It is nice that you are so concerned about it but I assure you that there is no need. I have many other skills.

From: Patton Murphy If you say so… So, what skills?

The conversation between them went on. Logan didn’t expect that he will ever be able to text with someone such naturally and feel like he was talking face to face. At first he tried to keep the formal tone and calmly and matter-of-factly answer questions, for example listing his skills. However, it did not take long, more or less until Patton wrote first of his puns. Which Logan didn’t understand. When he finally realized the meaning, he fell on the bed and put his face into the pillow with a loud groan. He didn’t know if he was more depressed by the level of joke or by the fact that he didn’t understand it. Involuntarily, used to talking mainly with Roman, he texted back annoyed that it was at the level of the association game, and if this is how their conversation will look like, then they should play that game like children in elementary school. Immediately after sending the message, he realized what he had done. If on the other side was Roman, complaining would went unnoticed, but, what does matter, THERE WASN’T ROMAN. He began to write an apology but he had to stop when Patton answered that he would be happy to play. Unable to withdraw from the proposition, he suggested switching to the internet chat and after that, they began to play. At the beginning, the game made some sense but eventually lost it. They had to start it several times from the beginning because they were deviating on topics that appeared inspired by used associations. Patton was another problem. He after some time, bored, instead of associations, played with words and created strange rhymes and puns. When they once again realized that instead of playing they are talking, Logan said that they should give up the game. He decided not to say that his head was starting to hurt from those puns and that ordinary conversation might be some kind of protection. It turned out that only a little. When Patton was on the flow – and association game is a really good warm-up – it was hard to stop him. Despite this, the conversation went smoothly, with time Logan even got used to or tried to ignore puns. He was impressed by the rich vocabulary of the boy. However, he felt relief and astonishment when his father called him for a dinner. He didn’t realize that the hours had passed since the beginning of the conversation. It’s good that in the meantime he managed to deal with some of the homework that did not required special focus. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what Patton’s situation was like in this issue. Feeling a bit guilty, he ended the conversation, apologizing that it is so sudden. They said goodbye to each other and wished a nice afternoon. However, Logan had the impression that when they finish their duties, they will come back to talking, today.

He wasn’t wrong. Around 10 pm Patton sent him a photo of little kittens with a question which he would like to choose. Logan replied that he is not going to adopt a cat for now and although the question was supposedly hypothetical, it led to discussions about shelters, animals and allergies when Patton admitted that he couldn’t have a cat because of that. These topics, like a snowball to avalanche led them to others. Logan fell asleep much later than he should, and for the first time in a long time he did not get up until the alarm rang. But he did not feel frustration. He felt that such a fruitful conversation on many levels with Patton was worth it. However, it shouldn’t become a habit, falling asleep so late wasn’t a healthy norm. In a thoughtless reaction, he wrote it to Patton. It didn’t surprised him that the boy answered immediately. They both had a morning classes, they shared each other’s school timetables yesterday.

Analyzing the subject of healthy sleep in the morning, they agreed that in the future they should try to limit talking, to be able to go to sleep at the normal time. None of them questioned the possibility, as if such long conversations were normal for them. And they were right. Since then there has not been a day that they wouldn’t have exchanged at least a few messages. Logan didn’t want to focus on this rather unusual situation, he was glad that they had so much fun in texting. He never thought he would find someone so interesting to talk with. He was not surprised by Patton’s completely different way of looking at the world. He got used to the fact that people rarely shares his views. Although it astonished him that Patton was not startled by his point of view. Also in some cases, they fully agreed. Logan was delighted with Patton’s intelligence, so different from his own and his whole person in general. For the first in his life, he considered if the relationship of people who are not soulmates are for sure such a bad idea. He felt, that he could be happy with Patton. Only, the sleeves on the boy’s forearms and the ‘code’ on his own constantly reminded him of the existence of bond. Sometimes he really wanted it to not exist then he could choose by himself. He wouldn’t try to see what his text of bond is. He fell into his old habit again – every evening he looked at the pattern with the hope that he might have incredible luck and finally he would be able to decipher something. He thought that maybe he would recognize the words Patton had said to him – although he wasn’t sure he remember what he said, he had some problem with thinking at that moment – but he still could only see a lot of ‘o’ and a few lines and dots in random places.

What is interesting he couldn’t denied with certainty that he is not Patton’s soulmate. He still didn’t say anything directly to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t see him and didn’t have the opportunity to say something. It just… Always something was interrupting him. In theory, they saw each other at school but there they rarely had the opportunity to talk. Generally, Patton noticed Logan and shouted from the other end of the hall. Logan never shouted anything in response; he didn’t have such a strong voice that would break through the school buzz. He preferred to write back. Besides, their only relatively regular meetings was meetings of the theater group to which Logan started to coming. He still wasn’t a member of the group but no one dared to pointed it to him. Of course, they also couldn’t talk there because Patton was busy with rehearsals and drama practice and Logan helped May. Straight away after meetings, Patton ran to the bus.

Messages were their only source of two-way conversation. Roman from time to time reminded Logan of his promise, although he remembered it perfectly. He often retorted by mentioning moments when he was going to say something but it was Roman who interrupted him. It usually closed Prince’s mouth effectively. There was a possibility to make a phone call but somehow they never even tried it. They didn’t come up with it. It didn’t seem right or convenient. Logan in addition felt that by doing this, he would destroy the little thing they shared.

Sent as: Logan Berry Patton, is everything alright? You seemed to be a bit distracted on the rehearsal.

From: Patton Murphy No… I’m ok.

Sent as: Logan Berry No, you are not. If you were, you would have worded the message otherwise. What is happening?

From: Patton Murphy You got me there ^^’ I have just a little problematic school’s problem from history.

Sent as: Logan Berry What is it?

From: Patton Murphy I’m supposed to write an essay but I couldn’t decide about what and now I have little time to go to the library for information and I still have no idea what to look for!

Sent as: Logan Berry Maybe you would like my assistance?

From: Patton Murphy Really? Would you help me? I would reeeeaaally like your help!!!  So, so, so much! <3

Sent as: Logan Berry I don’t see any contradictions. From what I remember, we end classes in Friday at the same time. Let’s meet tomorrow after classes in the library, I’ll help you find a topic and basic information. I hope you have a way to get back to home, right?

From: Patton Murphy Of course I have! :D Thank you, Logan! <3 <3 <3 You’re really saving me!

The next day, Logan reached the library much later than he expected. It was all because he started talking to a physics teacher about Pythagorean trigonometric identity. It was so interesting that they both completely forgot about the time and they found out that it was late when the bell for the next lesson rang. Logan said goodbye to the professor and ran to the library. The only thing he could think about was that he was late and that Patton is probably sitting alone and searching, even if still doesn’t know what. Logan’s delay wasted his time and he didn’t have much of it. From what he said, his buses were quite rare, despite the fact that he didn’t live so far. It was just hard to get there.

When Logan didn’t saw anyone in front of the library, he went inside. He quickly noticed Patton who was sitting in the corner with few book on the table and scattered notes everywhere. He leaned his head on his hand, staring at the text. One of the grey sleeves rolled off his forearm slightly, revealing a piece of black swirl probably coming from the text of the bond.

Logan came quietly to him and wanted to say hello but suddenly he was at a loss for words. He noticed Patton’s notes. They looked almost identical to what Logan had on his hand. The handwriting was equally illegible, small and crocked. However, the paper in front of Patton on which were his name, surname and several crossed lines of text was written legibly. Suddenly Patton took one of the unreadable notes and began to read it. It took aback Logan even more. Nobody could read it! No matter if it was his handwriting or not, how he was able to read it? Every of Logan’s thoughts flew out of his mind except the question: ‘How?’. It didn’t last long because a new thought appeared. If Patton was able to read it, it was likely that he could also read what Logan had on his forearm. The text of his bond. Reveal a secret that tormented him for years!

Meanwhile Patton looked up from his notes and saw Logan. He smiled widely and patted the chair next to him.

“Hey, Logan! You came! I’m glad that you agreed to help me, I still have a terrible problem with a choice, but it looks like I limited the number of topics that interest me to a few as you advised me. I didn’t know that…” – At that moment Logan stopped Patton with a gesture. Boy tilted his head in a silent question. Logan leaned over the table, took one of the notes and put them in front of Patton, pointing at the handwriting. Finally, he said:

“Patton, I’ve just noticed that you were reading these specific notes, at least that’s how it looked like, so I would like to ask if you would be able to read this text of bond even though I, am not able to do it?” – While talking Logan removed his sleeve from forearm and showed Patton the text of his bond. Patton didn’t even look at it, he was staring at him shocked. A moment passed between them in this position until Logan finally decided to sit on the chair.

“Patton?” – he asked. He didn’t get an answer. – “Are you alright? If you feel uncomfortable because of my request then I heartily apologize to you. Simply, this secret is tormenting me from my birth and I had hope that you are able to help me with this. If you can’t read it then nothing has happened, I will just…” – Logan wanted to cover his forearm but Patton quickly stopped him and shouted practically at the entire library:

“NO!” – Annoyed grunt of the librarian embarrassed him a little so he lowered his voice. – “I can! I can read these words.”

“Really?!” – This time Logan got a warning in a form of a grunt. He immediately calmed down. – “So, what is written here?”

Patton looked at his forearm, at him, and turned his eyes away, blushing at the same time.

“It is…” – he murmured something unintelligible. Logan frowned.

“Excuse me, would you like to repeat? I didn’t hear you.”

Patton gulped, looked into his eyes and grinned incredibly wide, biting his lip lightly.

“The text says: ‘Hey, we have the same glasses!’” – he said, trying to keep his voice low and twitching his leg in excitement.

“Really?” – Logan looked at the text. Never in his life he would say that these symbols mean it. He didn’t even know how the letters differs from each other. – “I’m wondering how you were able to read it. I was trying to do it for so many years and I couldn’t. I even began to study cryptology but it still didn’t make any sense.”

“Logan?” – There was hesitation and slight disappointment in Patton’s voice. – “You don’t remember these words?”

“When you mentioned it, I have a feeling that I have heard them somewhere.” – He thought about it for a moment but quickly came up with an answer. He snapped his fingers as he remembered. – “I know! You said them when we first met!” – He was so content that he remembered, that he didn’t realize the implication of this statement.

“Exactly.” – Patton was grinning like crazy. – “Do you know what does it mean?”

As Logan thought about something completely different and enjoyed solved puzzle, Patton confused him totally by the question. He looked at him with a blank stare. Boy noticed his dismay. He covered his mouth, blushed furiously and started to giggle softly. Or squalling from happiness, it was hard to say.

“It means…” – he began, pausing to catch his breath. – “That we are soulmates, Logan.” – he said quickly and covered his mouth again to muffle his voice because he was squealing with happiness.

Logan shouted down. It’s impossible for Patton to be his soulmate, he already discussed that with Roman. They should recognized each other earlier, after all, Patton was the only person with whom he had contact all the time without any breaks. He talked with him so much, more than ever in his life with anyone. That should be a clue that they are destinate to be together? And what was Patton’s text bond? Logan stood up, still struggling to process the information and said to the overjoyed boy:

“I think we should go out and talk about it on the hall, where we don’t have to keep silence.”

Patton nodded, stood up quickly, grabbed Logan’s hand and hurried with him to the door. Logan barely kept up but eventually they stopped outside the library.

“This is awesome, Logan!” – shouted Patton. – “I knew that we are somehow connected, I was sure! I’ve never met before somebody who would make such a electrifying impression on me from the first sight but you, you are like that all the time! I’m so happy! I was waiting for so long, I’ve started to losing hope that it’s you but…

“Wait a moment” – Logan interrupted him by raising his hand and he touched his own temple by the other one. – “I have a problem with absorbing these information.”

Patton’s face fell a little.

“Em… What that mean?” – he asked hesitantly. – “Are you not happy…?” – he added trying to not sound distress. He almost did it. He needed more acting lessons. If he eliminated that immensity sorrow from his eyes then acting would definitely be more effective. Logan caught himself on staring in Patton’s eyes and thinking about theatrical techniques instead of answering. He shook his head to shake that off. Of course, it wasn’t one of his most intelligent ideas because judging by Patton’s shattered expression, shaking was taken as an answer to a question. He have to do something now, quick!

“No!” – It was even worse. Okay, let’s not make him cry. Or just try. This is his luck; he made his own soulmate cry during recognizing and that wasn’t happy tears. His words began to tangle in panic. – “I mean, yes! Calm down, I have, I want to, I mean, I wanted to say that…” – he stopped with frustrated sigh and took a deep breath. Fortunately, his struggling calmed Patton a little. He was looking at him uncertainly, as if he didn’t know what to think. Logan cleared his throat and began to talk, now calmly: - “I want to tell you that I AM glad but I’m more surprised that fate really bond us. Already a big surprise for me was that you were able to read my text of bond, I didn’t expect that also I didn’t expect to meet my soulmate now. Or rather realize who my soulmate is. If you don’t mind my question, what is your text of bond?”

Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know… You stressed me.” – he added. It wasn’t necessary, Logan noticed. He also stressed himself.

“Please, forgive me, I didn’t intend to lead you to such a state.”

“I know, I feel better now.” – Patton smiled. – “And you asked me about my text of bond. Just look!” – He removed the sleeves from both arms revealing that half of his left forearm is covered by Logan’s big neat writing: ‘Patton, I’ve just noticed that you were reading these specific notes, at least that’s how it looked like, so I would like to ask if you would be able to read this text of bond even though I, am not able to do it?’- “When my parents saw it first time they considered this as a very strange first sentence. I always thought that this is really interesting and I was looking forward to the situation when I hear them and who will say it!”

“Ah, I see” – Logan nodded. – “I suspect that I would also think about it if I could read my own text.”

“Oh!” – Patton shifted uncomfortably. – “I’m really sorry, I’ve never thought that writing I’m using to quick notes will appear on your arm. I was sure that it will be the most readable, the best one. Yours looks like.”

“Based on my research I did with a group of people who met their soulmates I found out that the text appears in writing you are using frequently. At least nowadays, I couldn’t find reliable information about soulmates when most of people were illiterates. This is obvious that soulmate’s bond had to manifest differently.”

“I never thought about it!”

“Most of people don’t. I would be also one of them if I was able to recognize that symbols on my forearm means something.”

“Now you know!”

“Supposedly.”

After this comment, they fell silent, looking at each other. Patton seemed to be much calmer that usual but still full of energy and Logan had already figured out the whole situation so he wasn’t so confused. He broke the pleasant silence:

“So… what now?”

Patton cocked his head in confusion.

“What do you mean by ‘what’?”

“Do you know how to finish making a soul-bond? I have no idea, I’ve always been more interested in what is going on before.”

“Didn’t we are soul-bonded already?” – Patton was surprised. – “I thought it was enough to recognize soulmate.”

“Here’s the issue, I heard that it’s not. Recognition by text of bond starts a process to make a stable soul-bond but we have to finish by ourselves. I just don’t know how.” – Logan rubbed his neck looking sideways. He spotted a clock on the hall’s wall. – “Although we may as well go back to the library and find the information you need. We wasted a lot of time; it seems to me that…”

“You think that I AM NOW able to focus on books and studying?!” – Patton grabbed his nude forearm and touched the text of bond. Logan winced and hissed in pain because he felt like somebody pricked him with a lot of pins, right in the places of the text. Boy immediately let him go with worried expression.

“Logan? Are you alright? Did I grabbed you too hard? I’m sorry!”

“I’m okay, Patton” – he said looking at his arm. As soon as Patton released him all the pain disappeared, leaving an unpleasant feeling of coolness. Thanks to that, he probably came up with a solution to their problem. He looked seriously into Patton’s eyes. – “I have a feeling that you just discovered something very important.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Can you show me your left arm? If my theory is right, we will know soon how to finish the process.”

Patton met his request without hesitation, even with a certain amount of excitement. Logan was more uncertain. He didn’t want to cause his soulmate pain, even by accident. Carefully, ready to back away in a second, he touched swirl on Patton’s forearm. He felt nice warmth that had nothing to do with the body temperature of the boy. Patton furrowed eyebrows and Logan took a step back immediately.

“What did you feel?” – he asked nervous.

“How would you poke me with a pin. I should felt that?”

Logan ignored his question. He came up with an idea, which was the worst or the best action in their situation.

“Listen me, please, and tell me what you think about it” – he began. Patton nodded, focused. – “When you grabbed me I felt like you pricked me with a thousand pins but when I touched you I felt only warmth. I think we should touched each other's texts at the same time, to finish creating a soul-bond.”

Patton thought about it for a moment.

“I think you are right.”

“In that case” – Logan took a deep breath and reached out his hand. – “Do you want to try?”

He was terribly afraid that Patton would refuse. In the end, what he came up was only a theory that may turn out to be wrong which can lead to painful consequences. In the same time, he was sure that he is right. He didn’t know why, just his theory was logical. This, however, didn’t mean that Patton would agree. He could make fun of him – fine, unlikely. But he could just not agree. Logan didn’t think that in the time of their short acquaintance he had obtained such a large amounts of trust as were required at this time. He quickly convinced himself that Patton wouldn’t agree.

Patton didn’t say anything, just grabbed his arm.

It was like an electrical short. Logan could have sworn he heard click. After that, he left warmth in the chest and took an unwavering conviction that he is not alone. No matter what will bother him and he will need, he is not alone anymore. Not that he felt abandoned before but he certainly didn’t have the feeling of the other person’s constant presence and the fact that no matter what, they will support him.

He let go of Patton and looked at his shining with joy eyes.

“I guess… Our soul-bond is finished.” – he said quietly.

“Yes!” – Patton jumped in place and threw himself on his neck, hugging him tightly. Logan didn’t expect that so he just stood in one place, no move. – “We are not alone anymore, Love-gan!”

“Ekhem, yes.” – Logan blushed and patted Patton’s head awkwardly. – “Now we really should get back to the library and finish your work.”

Patton didn’t let him go for a moment, but finally, muttering dissatisfied, he released him. Holding hands, they went back to the library.

“I told you so!” – Roman pointed a spoon at them.

“Yes, you told me, Roman. You are repeat it for the fifth time.” – Logan leaned his head on the giggling Patton’s shoulder. They were in shopping mall, in ice cream shop. It was Logan’s idea to invite Roman and tell him about their relationship. In the end, he supported them all the time. Now Logan regretted his decision.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I was right!” – Roman slammed his fist on the table, making everything shook. – “I should hire myself as a matchmaker! Of course, only in case if I did not get an acting career.” – He was gesturing with a spoon so gustily, that it was miracle he didn't throw it at the other end of the building.

“Yes, yes” – Logan sighed, repeating it once again. He was suffering the most here. Patton had a lot of fun listening their exchange and eating colorful ice cream.

“I knew from the beginning that you are like two halves of the same apple, I saw it in your eyes! It wasn’t the first time I had to deal with a pair of clueless soulmates. Although I was somewhat surprised by yours texts of bond.”

“Can you stop finally? You are repeating yourself. I agreed with you and you were practically the first person we informed that we are together. Can we finish this topic?” – Logan asked imploringly.

“Nope!” – Roman stuck out his tongue and ate spoonful his strawberry ice cream. Logan groaned. Patton still chuckling stroked his head and pecked him on the cheek. Logan sit straight and stared at him taken aback. Patton smiled innocently, shrugged and focused on ice cream. Logan looked at Roman who was smiling with superiority and satisfaction. Logan finally broke. He grabbed his dirty spoon and threw it at him.

~Thank you for your reading!~

[malliebuu]

Kinky-typo

@kinky-typo your art is totally inspiring! I needed this inspiration since I haven’t written BV in a while. Thank you!!! 

Inspirational Photo by @kinky-typo

Rating: R Adult content ahead--

..

..

“Vegeta!” Bulma shrieked loudly to the ceiling as she stomped for good measure.

..

This isn’t fair…

Not again...!

..

The young blue haired heiress stomped her way through a heap of turned over tables, and weaved in and out of the cluttered mess of glass, wiring and tools that currently lay across her laboratory floor. This was the last straw. She had enough of that stupid monkey prince.

Who does he think he is? Coming into her laboratory and completely trashing it? What was he looking for anyway? It was obviously something to appease his anger, maybe over a broken bot, or possibly because the GR had been over used once again. He was a selfish person, taking what he wished when it suited his wants and desires-- completely disregarding what she thought or felt. That was his MO.

Angry and distressed, Bulma dramatically placed a hand on her forehead, pressing  back her headband upon the cushion of curled blue locks. Thrusting her hand down, she released another growl of frustration. Scanning what was left of her lab, Bulma’s eyes locked onto the emergency exit, which she had yet to notice was slightly cracked. Tools and supplies littered a trail in that specific direction, alerting her that the pissed off prince of all Saiyans had made his quick exit there before heading back to the GR; no doubt in her mind.

She waddled through the freshly cut grass cursing and crying out as she attempted to stand upright even though the high heels had other plans. Bulma made a quick decision to step only on the balls of her feet, to alleviate the stress of sinking into the mud. It was just a little too late, as the thin heel of her stiletto was already caked with mug. So here she was angrily trekking through her front lawn, ruining a perfectly good pair of shoes just to get to the GR and piss and moan about how angry she was at that Saiyan asshole, only to not be able to get a word in edgewise, right? What would she receive in doing this anyway? She knew exactly what. She would be out an expensive pair of shoes and have to walk barefooted back to Capsule Corp, more pissed off than before. These were a pair of her favorite high heels.

“Screw it, that asshole is getting a piece of my mind. This has got to stop,” Bulma muttered under her breath as she stepped from the wet grass up to the flight to concrete stairs leading up toward the GR entrance.

The machine was humming, signaling that his highness was most likely inside, beating himself to death—again. What was new? That Saiyan was one of the most determined, willful, and resilient being she had ever come in contact with-- rivaling Goku. He wouldn’t stop until he either achieved his goal, or killed himself. Based on how much he pushed this machine, she was willing to bet he would most likely kill himself before he obtained his goal.

Gripping the handle, Bulma flung the door open for emphasis, “Vegeta!” Bulma yelled at the top of her lungs. For additional emphasis, she whipping the door closed sending a shockwave through the titanium metal sheets covering the exterior of the building.

Her fist slammed on the cam dock located on the central panel, blinking and bleating. Her eyes scanned the computer, noticing he had gone up—pushing the GR to its limits once again.

..

..

Surprise, Surprise…

You’re a fool, Vegeta…

..

..

“Yeah, hi there your Majesty,” Bulma drawled as she met a pair of angry eyes, that of which, was looking up upon her with complete disdain from his push-up position.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but notice that someone came into my laboratory and completely rearranged the damn thing. I am going to take a wild guess that it was you.” A sarcastic smile was plastered upon her face, even though she was two seconds from flinging herself upon him and beating him bloody.

“I am in no mood for you, woman.” Vegeta growled as he forced himself upright.

The prince sucked in a breath and avoided eye contact, completely ignoring her presence, instead he began to  flex his straining biceps and forearms and even began to he rolled his head on his shoulders. Closing his eyes momentarily, he resumed his stance, preparing to take on the bots once again. Bulma could feel the metal under her feet rumble, and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as the powerful creature before her increased his power level by spiking his ki. Perfect timing, as the bots sensors ignited into overdrive, blasting their own rays after the quickly moving body.

Bulma bounced in place, growling in annoyance, “I don’t care if you are in the mood, damn you. Do you really think I want to be in here having this discussion with you?”

Smoke filled the room, flagging her vents to flip open and flush it out, and then replace the impurity by pumping fresh air in its place. Vegeta began to pant, pausing in mid-air and quickly extended a palm in the direction of the bot. He had along enough to respond to her previous statement.

“Good—then don’t,” He responded breathlessly.

The bot sensed the saiyan’s slower than usual response.  Instead of Vegeta getting ahead by firing his own blast, the bot got to him first, causing the saiyan to thrust upward in a wide array of flips through the air. Vegeta cried out, holding both palms in front of his chest and began firing rapidly, turning one of the ticking bots into a heap of scrap metal on the GR floor, “Leave,” he shot over his shoulder finally. He was staring directly at her, without blinking. It pissed her off greatly.

Bulma blinked shaking her head in response, “You will clean up my laboratory, asshole.”

Landing on his two feet with grace, Vegeta’s brow tensed. She wasn’t about to leave and back down. Instead there she was, projected upon the GR wall with a look of resentment plastered on her face and her arms crossed tightly upon her chest.

“I am not going to ask you again, woman.”

In response, Bulma slammed her fist on the red emergency shut-down button, causing the GR to power off. The emergency lights illuminated a brilliant red, flashing and sounding a familiar alarm. Bulma stood motionless, turning off the camera and glancing toward the sealed door, which lead to an extremely irritated Saiyan.

She sniffled softly, feeling her heart beating in her chest as she moved toward the door. Her anger had gotten the better of her, but even so, as she approached the door she couldn’t shake this overwhelming feeling of  apprehension.

Her perfectly manicured hand gripped the handle, released a sudden hiss due to the gravity change as it opened. Her eyes fell upon her current enemy, who was standing erect and defensively before her with his palms clenched at her sides. Those obsidian eyes met hers with contempt, flashing in a way she hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“Look,” Bulma began, holding up her palms, “I am not your maid, nor is anyone else in this house. Especially since you are living here rent free.” Her teeth gritted tightly.

Vegeta turned on his heels, striding up without stopping. Bulma’s eyes grew wide, noticing his palm unclenched just in time to grip her throat and force her to the warm, condensation covered metal plates. The back of her head slammed against the wall. Instantly, her hand clenched at the tightening calloused hand of the Saiyan glaring down his nose and into her terrified eyes. Swallowing, and inhaling sharply she shook her head, stammering to find her words.

“Shut up,” Vegeta hissed against the side of her face, avoiding her fear filled eyes.

“You had better let me go, if you know what is best for you, Vegeta.” Bulma felt her lower lips tremble. Her eyes grew more frantic as she felt his palm tighten ever so slightly.

“Or…what?” the Saiyan prince asked, finally lifting his eyes just to search her face, taking in her beautiful features. He hesitated for a mere second as he realized their close proximity and instead allowed his eyes to scan the length of her body with one sweep and then returned to the space just above her head, “You are going to run crying to Kakkarot?” Vegeta seethed, flashing his sharp canines.

“If that is what it takes, I will not hesitate,” Her face grew grave, meeting his black twin orbs.

“I asked you to stay out of my way, woman. I meant what I said before.” His upper lip twitched.

“I heard you loud and clear, Vegeta, but you should have thought about that before you trashed my fucking lab.” Bulma attempted to press forward using both of her hands, but just as quickly as her body responded with hostility, the Saiyan forced himself back upon her and gripped her chin forcing her cheek to the warm wall. She groaned out in discomfort.

“You enjoy this? You have a death wish?” Vegeta asked growing tired of her mouth.

“I’m not scared of you,” Her eyes flashed.

“You should be,” He breathed inches from her face.

Bulma sucked in a slow and frustrated breath, shoving once again. Vegeta pressed back, “You know your feeble attempts are no good, right?” He couldn’t help but chuckle, glancing down her her lips as they peeled back from her teeth, growling up at him.

“Get the fuck off me so I can get out of here. I waste my breath at every turn, Vegeta. You will never change, and quite frankly I am sick and tired of you living, sleeping, training, and eating under MY roof without so much as a thank—“

Vegeta stepped in closer so their bodies pressed tightly together and then carefully twisting her chin front facing. His tongue dipped out from between his lips, wetting them and paused as if thinking over his impending actions.To her surprise he finally leaned in brushed his lips against hers. Bulma froze, swallowing her worlds. Her lips dropped open, sucking in a slow, yet shaky breath as both of his soft lips came upon hers, sealing in a searing kiss. She groaned loudly against his mouth, pressing her body tight against his. Vegeta’s palm drifted from the curve of her throat downward to cup her soft breast, brushing his thumb over the hardened peak.

“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered against the swells of his mouth, “Wh--what are you doing?”

His eyes changed, confused by his own actions. He avoided her eyes once again and instead glancing only between them and continuing his soft caresses down the length of her trembling body, as if memorizing the feel of her against him. Vegeta opened his mouth once more, tracing his tongue across her lower lip only stopping to take the soft swell between his own lips and suckling.

Bulma instantly felt her legs turn to jelly. The arm around her waist tightened, holding her pinned against the wall. His hand drifted lower, tracing the soft flesh of her thighs. His index finger danced across the hem of her dress, daring to glide higher. Bulma felt her breath burst from her lungs and her loins burst aflame.

His fingers pushed higher, drifting over the soft cotton of her panties, causing her to gasp and press her face to his damp neck. One quick decision later, Bulma’s palms were pressed tightly to his damp chest, slipping free only glancing up once to offer a look of pure confusion.

“What the hell?”

Both took a few deep breaths, as the awkward silence passed Vegeta cleared his throat.

“Looks like I finally figured out a way to shut you up.” He smirked, pressing his palm to the wall as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“You’re an asshole,” She whispered, placing a hand to her flushed cheek.

“You should leave,” Vegeta finally said, keeping his eyes locked upon the heated floor.

Bulma pursed her lips, opening them to speak. Vegeta shook his head and raised a palm to silence her attempts to speak..

“I will only ask you once more,” He breathed, locking eyes with her, “Leave.”

“Vegeta,” Bulma began softly.

“Woman, just leave or I am going to do something we both will regret.” He avoided her eyes.

Her lips dropped open, “Oh,” she said unintelligibly.

“Did I stutter?” His voice raised, as he tightly pressed his forehead against the metal wall and tightened his fist.

“Fine,” Bulma finally said, swallowing the lump in her throat. What was wrong with her? Why was she even curious? Why was she hesitating? Her brain was screaming no, yet her body was excited at the prospect of being with this power charged male. She wanted so bad to have him throw her down and take her right there, right then.

Licking her lips, Bulma paced a few times and then quickly left without saying as much as a word. She couldn’t catch her breath. The door closed behind her. When she finally escaped to the outside of the GR she paused long enough to press her back to the closed door, sliding to the ground in a heap. Her eyes closed. It was at that moment she couldn’t help but smile.

..

What was that?

What happened?

..

Whatever it was, she liked it….really liked it.

…

..

[tessatechaitea]

Superman Annual #1

They're fighting over who loves the sun more.

Tumblr, I would appreciate it if you would stop filling my dashboard with advertisements for fetish sites.

No thanks! Super no thanks! Enough with the avocados already! I don't even like to eat them!

This issue begins with Clark checking the cabbages on his farm. But he's not wearing his glasses, so how is he going to see it clearly? Also he isn't wearing overalls and from everything I know about farmers is that they wear overalls. Unless they also wear flannel shirts. But if they're wearing flannel shirts and playing a bass guitar, they are probably not farmers but slackers from Seattle. Judging from the cover, it looks like Clark is going to either ask Swamp Thing for help and it will all go wrong, or Clark is going to use some kind of Monsanto seeds and face the harsh judgment of the alt-left. I mean Swamp Thing!

I'm not a farmer but I think Clark's problem might be trying to grow his cabbages directly under the elm in the backyard.

My guess is that the fields are super dry because growing Black Mercies takes a lot out Earth earth. Clark decides to investigate the problem with his farm as Superman. Obviously there must be something strange going on if Superman can't grow a few cabbages. No way he's just an idiot when it comes to farming, right? He tears off his shirt and flies into the sky. Has there ever been a story in the 60s or 70s where a tailor in Metropolis figured out Superman's secret identity simply because Clark kept bringing in all of his shirts to get the buttons sewn back on? Superman manages to find Swamp Thing draining all of the water around the Smith Farm. Swamp Thing's first words to Preboot Superman are, "You don't belong here anymore!" Oh. I don't want to see these two fighting! They're one of my favorite ships!

OMG! So cute!

Swamp Thing has felt something wrong with The Green surrounding Preboot Superman's existence on Earth New Earth. Don't worry, Swampy. We all feel it! I keep hoping every Superman story arc I read is going to fix it. But then I also hope that each Superman story arc I read doesn't fix it because DC Comics has a tendency of fixing things in a way that just makes them more broken. I really think it's time they stop trying to tie up all the weird continuity ends and just say, "Fuck it!" I think that's a reasonable way to approach most of life's problems. Although keeping the DC Universe in this state has one upside: it makes Preboot Superman one of my favorite characters. I love that he can reference all of the stories of DC's past that nobody else knows anything about. Except maybe Wally West. But I don't like Wally West for no particular reason at all.

See?! They're going to fight over who's a bigger fan of the sun! Like a couple of asshat Harry Potter fans on Tumblr!

Superman touches Swamp Thing, leaving a big blue hand-print on him. And then Swamp Thing begins to speak in Klingon. I mean Kryptonian. He says, "I'm Superman. And I can do almost anything. Except of course raise the dead." So he's not Jesus Christ. Big deal! He's better than Jesus. Bigger! More popular! Swamp Thing continues: "I'm here to say goodbye, Clark. I know you are not coming back. You and your family are not what you believe you are." I hope Superman is lying to Clark right now because I don't want Preboot Superman to not be Preboot Superman. See what's happening? DC Comics is trying to fix shit and only making it worse! Because usually they're fixing the thing that they used to fix the last thing that was broken but meant to fix the previous thing that was broken which was the thing they used to fix a previous thing that was broken. And, of course, used to fix another thing. All the way back to Crisis on Infinite Earths. Every fucking time DC changes their universe, it's just another domino due to the 1985 Crisis. More from Swamp Thing as he and Superman battle: "You may not be here in body but I know you are in apirit...". I think he probably meant spirit there. Superman does mention that Swamp Thing's accent and dialect make it so he can barely understand him. It does seem weird that the most obvious Kryptonian letter is the S because it matches Superman's symbol for hope. And yet that's the letter the letterer typos? I think it's a clue! Superman drives Holland deep into the Earth so that Swamp Thing can take root and cleanse himself of the virus Superman gave him by touching him. It works and Swamp Thing stops spouting Kryptonian. That's too bad. I wanted to hear more! After Swamp Thing is better, he decides to help Superman cleanse himself too. To do that, he wants to fuse with Superman. YES PLEASE! Instead of relenting and eating one of Swamp Thing's Fuck Fruits, Superman decides punching is the better solution. I suppose Swamp Thing should get consent but since I want to see them fuck and I know they're fictional characters, I don't really mind that Swamp Thing is being so aggressive. Plus his "fusion" isn't really about fucking. But it still sounds intimate enough that he should stop and explain things to Superman instead of playing the "NO TIME TO EXPLAIN! WE MUST WASTE TIME FIGHTING NOW!" card. Apparently Swamp Thing did have an actual timetable for fusion and it might have to do with the setting sun. Because after fighting a bit, Swamp Thing points out that they can't even fuse now. So instead, he eats Superman. I'm starting to see why my Tumblr Dashboard is full of advertisements thinking that I want to have sex with fruits. I'm still a bit confused about the baby with the codpiece. Apparently Preboot Superman is drawing in too much solar energy around him. So that's why his cabbages keep dying! Of course it isn't because he sucks at farming! That would have been preposterous! What is also preposterous is the spelling of preposterous. Swamp Thing finally gets permission from Swamp Thing to do the fusion thing. Although is it really consent if you've already eaten the person? Swamp Thing says Superman has to forget the past to remain on Earth New Earth. See that? Fuck you, DC! You can't tell me to forget that this is Preboot Superman just because Swamp Thing tells him to forget that he's Preboot Superman! You can suck my dick, DC Comics! Just stop trying to fix everything already! This isn't going to make Superman fit better. Everybody else still knows he's a different Superman. I suppose if all of the editors tell all of the writers to just treat this Superman as the New 52 Superman, it gets rid of some of the stupid shit you pulled trying to fix New 52 Superman. But really you've just broken everything a little bit more. What will be your next fix that breaks things more by fixing one tiny thing? Idiots. The Review! Look, I hate the idea that this Superman somehow needs to be fixed by incorporating him into the New 52 world better. And that's where my vitriol comes from. But I actually liked this story by Tomasi and Gleason. Besides, they didn't go to the extreme that Swamp Thing erased Superman's memories. Swamp Thing just put the emphasis on Superman to look toward the future and simply accept Earth New Earth as if it were Preboot Earth One. That kind of works for me since I already think of it that way. And I think of it as Pre-Zero Hour Earth and Post Crisis Earth and Pre-Crisis Earth too. All the stories in my head, the ones I grew up reading, are what make the DC Universe, not what DC tells me about their Universe. They hardly ever know what they're doing anyway when it comes to editorial control. It's best just to love the stories by the writers you love and believe the characters have been built upon those stories alone.