#cluttering your tags since dial-up

[cilalt]

3ft satan

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.4 (BAON)

Summary:  Jeff doesn't know where they are or where they're going, but he knows one thing. It's probably not good.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it here!

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By the time the van came to a stop, Stretch still hadn’t woken up. Not that it mattered very much, there wasn’t a thing Jeff could have done to change their situation. At the moment, they were very much outnumbered, overpowered, and even if he’d had a clue where they were, it wouldn’t have done them any good. Before they dragged him out of the van, one of the thugs yanked a bag over his head. Blinded, he struggled to stumble along as two guys pulled him out, trying not to cry out as they led him barefoot across crumbling asphalt into a building with rough carpet.

He kept as quiet as he could, trying to not only listen in case they said anything useful, but also for Stretch, praying to a God he hadn’t spoken to since he was fifteen and his father threw him out that they didn't hurt Stretch. Jeff could survive a few bumps and bruises, but he didn't know how much Stretch could withstand. Intent was key when it came to Monsters, he knew that much, and these guys seemed to have plenty.

At first, he tried to keep track of where he was being led. An impossible effort when the twists and turns of being dragged along left him too disoriented to know his way up or down. They seemed to walk forever until his captors suddenly stopped and Jeff was shoved down into a chair. Rough hands grabbed at him, rope suddenly binding his wrists and ankles. He didn’t struggle as he was tied, only tried to tense his muscles as much as possible, some shitty internet meme he vaguely remembered reading said that it could help slip free later.

Turned out memes weren’t the best source for escape plans. When they were done, Jeff subtly tried to move and the best he could manage was a painful rope burn. The ropes felt like they were wound through the slats in the chair and unless Houdini decided to make good on his possible return from the other side, Jeff was going nowhere fast.

He could hear their captors moving around, muttering too low to be understood and the other sounds might have been more rope. Tying up Stretch, maybe, he hoped that���s what it was; at least if they were together, that was something, hell, that was everything right now.

The bag suddenly getting ripped off his head made him gasp, flinching from the glaring light pointed directly into his face. Squinting, he could barely see the shadowy figures standing behind it, but he was sure he could see a cell phone pointed in his direction.

“Say your name,” a rough voice demanded.

“Andy—” he began automatically. “No, Jeff, I’m sorry, Jeff! My name is Jeff!” There was nothing else and Jeff shifted, grimacing as the ropes dug in. It was on the tip of his tongue to go on, to blurt that he worked in public relations, that he was nobody important and not worth ransoming. He bit the inside of his lip to keep those rambles from pouring out. Partly because it was probably stupid to tell kidnappers your value or lack thereof, and partly because of Edge. He’d always told them to never offer more information than was necessary and yeah, he’d been talking about board games at the time, but Jeff doubted that Clue was where Edge learned that particular rule. If these assholes wanted more info, they could damn well ask.

Either his name was all they wanted or they already had whatever other info they needed. Jeff didn’t even have a chance to try squinting through the too-bright light when one of them came towards him and yanked the bag back over his head. He sat there, sweat beading on his face and his own breath threatening to smother him as he listened to their captors moving around next to him.

“He can’t talk,” one of them said disgustedly. “He’s still wasted.”

Stretch. That meant he was right next to him, thank fucking god.

The rough sound of a slap made Jeff tense, protests bitten off when the same voice cursed and there came the sound of someone rubbing their head, “What the fuck, man!”

“That’s exactly how we want him, dumbass! He doesn’t need to talk, all they need is a good look at him. Come on, they’re waiting.”

Footsteps and then the sound of a door closing. Jeff strained to hear if anyone was still in there with them around his own breathing loud in his ears, his pulse thundering. There was nothing, no shuffle of feet against the floor or the creak of a chair. Jeff waited a little longer, curling his chilly toes against the rough carpet.

Nothing. Jeff took a long, slow breathing, trying to calm his racing pulse. He needed to be cool right now so he could try to think of something. Even if the Embassy was willing to give these assholes whatever they wanted, they sure as hell couldn’t count on that saving their lives. He was no strategist, his degree was in sociology, for fuck’s sake, but. Stretch always called him Handy Andy and it made him feel like someone different, someone braver who could stand up to a violent asshole on a bus and help Stretch with crazy experiments involving swinging bottles of Diet Coke rigged with automatic mentos dispensers. Jeff might not be the best for this situation, but Andy was sure as hell gonna try.

“Stretch,” Jeff said softly. He waited for someone to shout or a slap followed by a demand that he shut up. When none came, he went on, soft and urgent, “I know you can't hear me, but, just in case you can. It's gonna be okay. I know you're big on promises and I'm promising you right now we're getting out of this. I promise you." If he could glean anything of what Jeff was saying, he hoped he could hear that much. At least maybe he wouldn't be afraid.

"i sure hope so, i didn't get this far in life to get dusted by a low rent group of third rate scooby doo level villains. seriously, they tied us up with rope, were they out of packing tape at ‘kidnappers ‘r’ us’ or were they just eager to try the knots they learned in boy scouts before they got kicked out."

Okay, that wasn’t quite the last thing he’d expected, but it was close.

"Stretch?" Jeff gasped out. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the bag, but he could hear a muted popping sound. Suddenly, the bag was gone, far gentler than before and then he was blinking up into Stretch’s smirking face.

Jeff looked around a little wildly and next to him was another chair, the still-tied ropes hanging from the rungs in loose coils.

“yeah, sorry. i woke up back in the van, didn’t want to tip them off. wherever they buy their roofies must not have given them a dosage chart.” Stretch settled his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “hold still, this is a lot easier than fighting with knots.”

It was the gentlest and shortest teleport he’d ever felt. Only a brief disorientation and when his vision cleared, he was sitting on top of the ropes that had just been binding him.

Jeff scrambled to his feet, swiping his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. Holy shit, maybe he should take up praying again more regularly, this was the fastest service he’d ever gotten. “Can you get us outside?”

His heart sank as Stretch shook his head. “that's gonna be a no. with the bags on our heads, i couldn't see where we are. shortcutting is tricky, it's dangerous to teleport blind. that's how you end up stuck in walls or halfway inside a table or some shit.” Stretch waved a slender hand at the chairs. “dangerous, not impossible. a few inches above where i was sitting was a pretty safe bet to get out of the ropes, but anything else is more likely to get us dead than on the street.” He frowned, glancing around the room thoughtfully. “plus, i'm not going anywhere without a little intel. they’re fucking idiots, but they knew enough to drug me and how to do it. that's not information you can just look up on a wiki-how.”

“Okay,” Jeff took a deep, steadying breath. "So, what do we do, then?” He glanced at the door. “Can you pick locks?"

"sure,” Stretch said absently. He was looking around the room. It was a storage room of some sort, there was more dusty furniture aside from the chairs, including a rickety desk, and metal cabinets lined the walls. “but i can't do much about the door being barred. i heard something get braced against it when they went out.

"Oh. Right."

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, “at least one of them has a brain cell or two rolling around up top, enough to get them this far. but the road trip is over and it’s time to pay the tolls.” Stretch shook his head disgustedly. "first rule of kidnapping is never leave the kidnappees alone. seriously, i'm getting my cues from netflix and even i know that.”

His eye lights paused in their survey of the room, brightening. Jeff followed his gaze and saw in one corner there was an honest to god old-fashioned rotary telephone pushed into the far corner of the desk, nearly buried under the clutter.

"can't be that easy, can it?” Stretch marveled. He picked it up the handset and held to his skull, then sighed unhappily. “nope. no dial tone, no surprise there, no one has a landline anymore. don’t you worry though, little phone.” Stretch gave it a soft pat. “you’re gonna be real useful in just a minute. seriously, this is just embarrassing. my first kidnapping attempt and they locked us in a room with an entire arsenal.”

“I must be missing the vendor in the corner willing to hand over gear if we do a mission for them,” Jeff joked weakly.

“everything is an arsenal if you’ve got the skills.” Stretch rummaged through the desk and came up triumphantly with…a paperclip? He set it on the desk, adding a pencil, some scotch tape, and what looked to Jeff like an old tube of superglue. “kidnapped by the ebott equivalent of the america’s dumbest criminals, fuck me. edge is going to be up my ass for a month.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” It was easier to be calm in the face of Stretch’s ease. “I think six months is the bare minimum.”

“i really wish you weren’t right.” Stretch glanced around the room again, this time directing his gaze upward. “hm, that’ll work.” Tall as he was, the ceiling was still out of reach even for him. Stretch pulled one of the chairs over, ropes trailing behind it like tentacles, and stood on it, reaching for the smoke detector. Jeff could only blink in confusion as he yanked it right off the ceiling.

"You're going to burn down the building?” Jeff asked. Not that he didn’t trust Stretch, but, uh, that seemed extreme for a first escape attempt. “That’d get us out, but I don't think we'll be any more alive."

"nah, just need some parts,” Stretch jerked his head towards the door. “keep an ear on the hallway, will ya, in case they remember that leaving us alone is probably stupid."

“Got it.” Jeff went to the door but before he could press his ear to it, Stretch called his name.

"hey, kiddo, i'm gonna get us out of this." Stretch offered him a familiar, lopsided smile. "i know i don't look like much, but i've been known to keep my head in a bad situation."

"You already saved me once,” Jeff said honestly, "why wouldn't I believe you now?"

Stretch’s pale eye lights flickered with memory, his expression briefly tightening. How did he remember that horrible night in that parking lot, Jeff wondered, what nightmares haunted Stretch’s sleep? He knew something happened after the ambulance took him away, but he’d never heard the entire story. After he’d been released from the hospital, he’d been wrapped up in healing enough to start his new job at the Embassy and as time passed, he hated to ask, didn’t want to dredge it all up again, not when everyone was slowly getting past it. Besides, the others had their own shit to deal with, what with the attack in California and everything happening in Ebott. His trauma was his to handle and that was the end of it.

At the desk, Stretch got to work, humming the ‘mission impossible’ theme under his breath as he dissected the phone and smoke detector with a makeshift screwdriver made from a bent paperclip taped to a pencil. His hands were as deft and easy as any demonstration he’d done for the local kids and Jeff could only marvel at his ease.

“How can you be so calm?” Jeff blurted, wincing even as the words escaped. He hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t want to distract him. Stretch only flicked a glance his way, both browbones raised.

“me?” Stretch snorted, “i am not calm. beneath this gorgeous cookie crust exterior is a honey pie of a person who would start shitting themselves if i could grow the prerequisite equipment. but we're gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?” Jeff hated the faint pleading in his own voice, he shouldn’t be distracting; Stretch was as stuck here as he was and with his HP, it was even worse. He was supposed to be the one helping Stretch, he’d promised, and the best he could do was lookout.

“you seriously think red isn't already on it?” Stretch asked and as terrifying as Red could be, thinking about him right now eased some of the aching fear that was settled in Jeff’s stomach. “all he needs is a clue and we’re gonna get him one. i only hope he can keep edge from razing the city and salting the earth beneath it until then. people might be a little tetchy about that and i’m not even sure you can come up with a press release that’d cover ‘sorry about starting city-wide armageddon, my bad.’”

Before Jeff could think of a reply to that, either an agreement, or a protest that a little chaos could be excused considering the circumstances, he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. Panicked, he hissed out, “They're coming!”

“fuck, okay, okay.” Stretch scrambled over and set some kind of contraption on the floor near the door that was all waggling wires and circuit boards. He grabbed Jeff by the wrist and dragged him along. “over here, come on, this a harder trick, but you can do it. i need you to hold as still as you can. if you move, they might see you, you get me?"

Jeff managed a hasty nod as Stretch shoved him into a corner, cramming them both in tight, out of the way. "don't move, don't talk,” Stretch reminded him, a low murmur close to his ear. The slim, bony arms around him were comforting and even knowing that Stretch couldn’t physically protect him, having him towering overhead as he caged Jeff against the wall felt oddly safe.

Then something happened. He didn’t know how to describe it. It felt like a heavy curtain fell over the world, everything going distant and muffled, even his vision greying like he was about to faint, only he’d never felt so awake. There was a sudden popping explosion as the door swung open and collided with Stretch’s contraption, but it sounded miles away, the kidnappers’ curses as muffled as if they were speaking from another world.

He didn’t move, held perfectly still even as that curtain slowly grew claustrophobic, nausea starting to churn. Jeff closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively and just went he thought he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, that he either needed to move or he’d start screaming, it was suddenly gone and Stretch was stepping back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Stretch was pale, sweat showing visibly on his skull. "are you okay?" Stretch asked.

“Me?” Jeff blurted. He caught hold of Stretch’s arms to brace him as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m fine, what about you!”

"i’ll be okay.” Stretch wiped his face on the sleeve of the crummy shirt he’d been forced into with a grimace. “i pulled us halfway into the void. it works, but it burns a lot of juice. the assholes booked it out of here, but more importantly, they left the door open."

The door was opened, they could leave, and yet, Jeff found himself blurting out, “They’ll get away!”

“no,” Stretch said grimly. “they’ll look for us first, thinking we couldn’t have gotten too far. these guys aren’t gonna ditch and run that fast, they know too much. think about it. drugs work on monsters but how do they know what kind and how much? lucky for me, skeleton monsters are different. our systems are finicky, we’re hard to drug. whoever tipped them off about how to roofie me didn’t know that.”

His sockets narrowed suddenly, Stretch turning away to look in the rusty cabinet next to them. “oh, honey,” he said gleefully, “jackpot.”

Jeff joined him, peering into the cabinet as Stretch cautiously wrenched it open. “What did you find?”

He held up a bottle of bleach and said, smugly, “just some nice, normal household chemicals. they can be lots of fun if you know how to mix 'em up and i'm a one hell of a bartender. but first.”

On the desk was another little contraption that was mostly wires and tape. Stretch picked it up and walked over to squat next to a wall outlet. Carefully, he pushed it into the socket. There was a sputtering spark and a tiny red light blinked to life.

“there we go.” Stretch stood, dusting off his hands. “i don’t even want to think about how pants-shittingly angry edge probably is right now, but we can’t let them get the ransom that asgore is probably going to pay and we sure as hell can’t let them get away.”

He grinned then, wickedly sharp for all that his teeth were blunt. “so, how’s about we have some fun, yeah?”

Jeff nodded determinedly. Fuck, yes. If he was going to add to his repertoire of nightmares, he was damn well going to make sure someone else paid for it, in spades.

tbc

[harghoes]

Your Memory is Killing Me.

Pairing: Wolffe x f!reader

Word count: 1854

Warnings: alcohol, grief, not taking care of one’s self, it’s really sad. 

a/n: I had this idea stuck in my head after hearing my favorite song. (More Than a Memory by Garth Brooks obvi). It hurt me to think about but I realized it would be a good chance for me to get back into writing things I like! tagging @morganas-pendragons 💓 Enjoy, it’s sad. :)

—-

everyone tells him it’s all in his head. that the image of her isn’t anything but an apparition. he’ll over come it eventually, of course he will, he’s Commander Wolffe of the 104th. he’s the strongest of them all. except, he isn’t that strong. he’s barely holding on by a thread and the only comfort he gets is “it’ll take time, but you’ll forget, everyone forgets.” that’s the opposite of what he wants to hear. in fact, he never wants to hear those words in that arrangement ever again, not when it deals with her. the girl of his dreams. gone, like she was never there, and like no one even knows who she is. that’s who Commander Wolffe, of the 104th, is so tragically missing. 

Wolffe tries to talk to his vod. the only words offered are a “c’mon Commander. move on. we all have to get on with our life.” and Wolffe knows this is true. in war, you lose things you never thought you would, but you also gain things too. Wolffe knew from the moment he met her that his life would change. he wasn’t just another clone in this fight anymore, he had a purpose, a home. he would’ve done anything to keep her safe. anything at all. 

the thing with his vod telling him to move on is that he doesn’t think they understand what it means to him. they don’t realize the pain and trauma he gained with her loss. he can’t look at things and see them the same. he can’t hear certain words without thinking about her. he can’t do anything without her being with him. it was a blessing but now it’s a curse. 

Commander Wolffe, as of right now, is on leave. his Jedi General saw it fit for him to take a break. General Plo is good at keeping his men healthy, but even now he can tell there’s something deeper going on. Wolffe, while stoic and not one to get emotional, had been near his breaking point for weeks now. General Plo could tell. 

that leads back to Wolffe. he’s laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling empty. his quarters once held light and hope and now it feels cluttered and small. Wolffe decides he needs to do something to clear his head and that’s what has him reaching for his comlink. he starts dialing her number before realizing he can’t. he hangs up immediately, afraid someone else will pick up, and that he wouldn’t have an explanation. Wolffe has to clear his mind somehow. 

he ends up at 79’s eventually. he can’t remember how he got here but all he knows is he needs a drink. Wolffe heads to the bar immediately and sits down. he orders a glass of whiskey and bows his head. he’s never been much of a drinker but he needs to get her image out of his mind. he needs to get her smile out of his mind. the whiskey is set down in front of him and he downs it right away. the bartender watches with curiosity but goes about her business. Wolffe just wanted time to dwell on his mistakes and to feel his grief. 

a pretty Twi’lek woman walks towards him and leans against the counter. Wolffe doesn’t pay her any mind until she sets her hand on his. 

“what’s a handsome man like you doing alone? whoever has you sure is lucky.” her voice is sweet but nothing like hers. 

“i’m not looking for anything tonight, i just want to be left alone.” Wolffe registers the look on her face as concern before adding, “please.” 

thankfully, she understands. she sets a friendly hand on his shoulder and leaves with a ‘good luck, soldier.’

Wolffe gives her a nod in response before flagging the bartender over. he’s going to need a lot more to drink to deal with this. 

————

Wolffe is drunk off his ass. the bartender had to get a taxi for him to even make it near the barracks. Wolffe is stumbling his way through the hallways when he sees the familiar hair. it’s only a flash before it’s gone, but it was there. he knows it. 

Wolffe is intent on following the shadow until he spots his vod. Boost and Sinker are heading his way. he doesn’t want them to see their Commander like this. by the time he’s figured out he needs to move, they’ve caught up to him and are now helping him to his quarters. 

“Maker, Commander, what’s gotten into you? you have never acted like this before. is it because of... her?” Sinker questions on the walk. 

Wolffe can only let out a grunt and the rest of the walk is quiet. once inside his room, Wolffe collapses. he’s sitting on his knees with his face upturned. he takes two deep breaths before getting up to reach under his bed. he grabs his lockbox that holds millions of memories and starts pulling out things she wrote him, photos she took, anything that had her presence. Wolffe was a grieving man and the best way to grieve? destruction. 

he leaves his quarters for the second time that night on a mission. he heads for an empty room and finds an ashtray. once finding the ashtray, he looks for matches and sets the photos and letters on the tray. he finds the matches, lights one up, and looks at the top photo. the two are smiling brightly, their faces smushed together, and you can see the happiness in Wolffe’s face. he’s never been happier than in that moment. Wolffe grabs that photo off the top before setting the match on the rest. there’s no way he could get rid of her entirely. 

——

by the time Wolffe gets back to his quarters, he’s exhausted. he lays on his bed and hopes to get a quick nap in. he hasn’t been sleeping properly since she’s been gone. it’s like she was his one and only comfort. Wolffe stares at the ceiling and recounts their time together. eventually, he does fall asleep. 

it doesn’t last long though. within a few hours, he’s waking up in a cold sweat. there wasn’t anything he could do but the guilt is still there. he reached for his comlink again and stops himself from dialing the wrong line. instead, he calls someone he can trust. 

Cody. 

Cody answers after a few rings and he grumbles out a greeting. 

“Cody, i don’t know what’s happening to me. i’m scared and i’m tired and i just can’t stop thinking about her. it’s been weeks and i still see her. Cody, she’s haunting me. she’s more than a memory, i’m telling you.”

Wolffe pours his heart out to his vod and Cody takes a minute to respond. finally, he sighs and begins to talk. 

“Wolffe, do you know what time it is? it’s the middle of the night. i’m not angry at you, i’m sorry you’re going through this, but i’ve got a campaign in a few days. i need to sleep.”  Cody let’s out another sigh before he ends the conversation with, “it’s going to be alright, Wolffe. i know it is.” 

the comlink beeps signifying the end of the call. this is going to be a long leave. 

———

when Wolffe gets a call from General Plo to check in, he goes immediately. he’s barreling his way down the halls to meet with his General, and when he finally reaches the room, he clears his throat. 

Plo turns around, expecting to see a clean-shaven, sober Wolffe. what he sees in front of him is a broken man. Wolffe is swaying slightly, he has dark circles around his eyes, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in years. 

Plo is taken aback by Wolffe’s appearance and takes in a breath. Wolffe shakily raises his arm in a salute. Plo walks towards Wolffe and sets his arm down. he sets his hands on his shoulders and looks at his son. Plo had heard Wolffe’s situation had gotten worse. he knew about his excessive drinking, his bar fights, his erratic sleep schedule. Wolffe wasn’t taking care of himself and it was affecting everyone. 

“Wolffe, you need to sleep. please, son, stop the drinking. you need to take care of yourself and your brothers.” 

he’s been hearing the same message just worded differently from everyone. he’s at his breaking point now. Wolffe starts shaking with anger and Plo just watches. Wolffe’s fists clench at his sides before they loosen. he falls to his knees and looks at his General. 

“please, General. please. i can’t do this anymore. Maker, please! i need her! Maker, this is a worthless life without her.” 

Wolffe bows his head and, though never religious, starts to pray to anything out there that she’ll return to him. he needs to see her again. Wolffe is a strong man but even strong men need someone. she was his someone. 

Plo drops to his knees besides Wolffe and brings him into a hug. he sets a hand on his back and one cradling the side of his face. Wolffe starts sobbing and screams until his voice is hoarse. he screams for anything and everything in hopes that she’s listening. 

Plo just sits there, cradling his son, and sending reassurance through the Force. this is a time for Wolffe to get everything out. 

a while later, Wolffe is finally calmed down enough to where Plo can talk to him. 

“i’m sorry you dealt with this alone for so long. i’m sorry you lost her. i’m just sorry, Wolffe. you’re a good man, you deserved to be happy with her.” 

Wolffe takes in a shaky breath and leans back. his back ends up against the nearest wall and his legs are outstretched. 

“i‘ve tried everything, General. i’ve tried every coping mechanism available. nothing helps. i’ve left her old comlink messages saying i love her, i’ve walked by her old room, i’ve called my vod in the middle of the night and none of them can relate or help me.” 

there’s a pregnant silence between the two. Plo is about to speak again before Wolffe finally explains. 

“i’ve let myself go because i don’t see a reason to be put together. there isn’t a reason to look decent without her. i’ve tried to drown out her laugh with alcohol and it doesn’t work. the more i drink, the louder her laugh rings through my head.” 

Wolffe takes in three deep breaths before telling Plo the main problem.

“the reason i’m not sleeping is because i know she’s waiting for me. i find things to do because i know she’s waiting in my dreams. and i don’t think i could handle seeing her without being able to touch her.” 

Plo gives Wolffe’s shoulder a firm pat before bringing him into another hug. 

with his head resting on Plo’s shoulder, Wolffe breaths out a soft murmur. 

“people say she’s only in my head. it’s killing me.” 

and the two sit there sharing the grief together.

[neptunesnxpple]

Shigaraki x m!reader - Sleepless Soulmates

Are you still doing request? If so maybe something with Shigaraki and a soulmate au? (However you want it to be, just something where people can tell almost imedietly upon meeting their soulmate) The reader's quirk sometimes randomly teleports them places and one day while while dead asleep just portals him right onto Shigaraki's bed. 

Tags: Fluff, Shigaraki Tomura x Reader, m!reader, Soulmate AU, lots of sleep talk

Length: ~1,200 words

18+ only

The first time it happened was at school. You laid your head down on the table for a nap, and the next thing you knew you were awake at a nearby park, confused and still waking up from sleep. You rubbed your eyes, walking home and seeing the flashing lights of a police car parked outside your home. You opened the door, your parents rushing you into their arms and thanking those above for returning you, glad to have their darling son alive and in one piece. That was the day you got your quirk.

Your parents tried everything, tucking you in tight, tying you down, but no matter their creative and at times exhausting attempts, you always found your way somewhere else than your bed. Usually a park, sometimes school, and in rare cases places you’d never been before. When you were younger, the range of your teleportation was limited, but as you grew so did it. Your parents begged you to keep your sleeping to a minimum, no longer strapping you to the bed but making you sleep with a card around your neck like some kind of absentminded pet. You’d walk into a family mart, hold up your card, they’d dial your parents’ number and that would be it. Things got worse when you hit puberty.

 Sleep was already a hassle, but the moment you hit puberty it got worse. The moment you and your soulmate awakened, what little rest you’d taken for granted was stripped away and replaced with a hollow sleepless state. Cool, frightening emptiness. No matter the sleep remedies, herbal or medicated, nothing could replace that empty, dreamless state, nothing except for encountering your soulmate. Some people had all the luck, they’d leave homeroom and right around the corner was their soulmate. Others buckled up outside of their soulmate, married, had kids, and were content never to meet their soulmate. Others weren’t romantic couplings, instead fleeting passions, close friends, or passing strangers. Whatever the case none of these applied to you. Most of your friends fit in these categories and were happily coupled well into their adulthood. You were the lone straggler. You never met your soulmate. Never bumped into them. Never felt the sweet release of a good night’s sleep. You did what you could to sleep as little as possible, working unreasonable hours to the point of exhaustion. Only then would you pass out into nothingness, wake up somewhere inconvenient, and repeat the process.

 You laid down in bed reluctantly. Shutting your dry eyes, and letting out a heavy breath. You drifted into that unwelcoming state of nothingness, letting nature take its course.

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. The blue darkness limiting your view. The first thing that hit you was the overwhelming stench of body odor. It was enough to make you wrinkle your nose and scrunch up your lips.  You stretched. The sheets tangled around your legs. It was then you realized you were in a bed. An eerie calm feeling washed over you. The wall was covered in posters from various anime, the floor coated in a layer of what you suspected was dirty laundry. You flung your arms out to the side, thankful when it didn’t hit anyone. No one was home. At least, not in the bedroom.  You slid one leg off the bed, then the next one. You slowly walked your body out from the bed, slumping off of it, trying to make as little noise as possible. When you looked up, a man with bright bluish white hair stared down at you. He was in gray sweatpants and a white sleep-crumpled All might t-shirt. You didn’t recognize him. The two of you stared, unable to say a word. He reached out, and you were gone. It was the first time you teleported while awake.

 The following day it was all you could think about. You had no clue who he was, or where you were. But somehow you got back. Using your quirk. You closed your eyes to sleep more and it was warm, comforting. It wasn’t dark anymore.

 It took you over a week to go back, during that time you slept more than you had in who knows how long. But you never teleported. At least, not until, this last time. You rolled over, reaching for a glass of water, when you bumped face first into something. You slid your hand over this warm wall, spread out your fingers, tapping the soft obstruction. You fought the urge to sink in deeper. You carefully raised your head. You were back. The man with the tinted hair was here, sleeping. It didn’t smell as bad this time, but the air was still horribly stale. You inched your way to the edge of the bed, sliding off once more. There was less clothing to pad your landing, but you still managed to land without a sound. What clothing was left had been pushed into a corner. Your heart raced as you snooped. You spotted a glowing red keyboard and one of those neon rainbow cooling systems for the computer. The desk was cluttered with empty bottles, and a small trashcan next to it was overflowing. You searched for any loose papers, take out menus, something to give you a hint of where you were. Before you could make much headway, you felt a hand on your shoulder.  Again, that warm, comforting feeling that felt like light entered your mind. It was hard not to feel woozy from it. Awareness that you were in your boxer briefs broke you from fully relaxing, covering yourself.

 “How’d you get here?” a low, gravelly voice grated. The hair on the back of your neck prickled, feeling very hot all of a sudden.

 “I don’t know. I don’t even know where I am,” you started to explain, turning to face him and backing up, “sometimes my quirk just… puts me places,” with each step back he took one step forward until you were cornered. You stared him over, trying to place him. There was a familiar quality to his features, but it just wasn’t clicking. Your chest tightened at the proximity as he boxed you in.

 “Look, I’ll leave, I was able to last time. I’m sure if I just-” you stopped when he grabbed your wrist, tight,

 “I’ll say when you can leave,” he started. Your eyes widened, eyebrows raised and a flash of fear waking you up further. He loosened his grip, stern expression faltering before letting go of you completely.

 “What I mean, is,” he stumbled, “maybe you don’t have to leave right away. You could stay a little longer. You can’t exactly leave in your… boxer briefs.” The demanding and dangerous confidence was now gone, replaced with a more flustered manner. You were confused, but mostly you were tired. He moved cartoonishly stiff back to the bed, crawling under the comforter and leaving it pulled down on one side. You followed his cue, pulling the blanket up to your neck and curling. The mattress shook as he slithered closer, snaking an arm around you and burrowing his face into your shoulder.

That night you dreamt in color for the first time since you were a child, feeling safe in sleep instead of dread. You curled tighter, nestling into the stranger deeper throughout the night. When you woke up, you felt well-rested. You turned to face your new companion, surprised to see that they were already awake.

“My name is Shigaraki Tomura, and I think you’re my soulmate.”

  A/N: Thank you for the request! If you like what you read, please comment either below or anonymously as it helps motivate me to do more. Feel free to submit a request as well :)

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1  // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3  // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic​

CHAPTER 4

3rd District Precinct Washington, DC

The modest forensics lab was situated in the basement of the precinct building. A fitting location. It was always a strange trip downstairs, almost like walking into a spook house at an amusement park. You’d notice every creak from the antiquated filing cabinets, there were shelves of textbooks, yellowing medical journals, rows of glass jars containing shriveled specimens. The morgue was tucked away in a corner with a series of metal doors on the tiled wall and a surprisingly shiny slab resting comfortably over a drain in the floor. No more room at the inn by the look of it. Autopsy tools hung neatly on the wall like a butcher’s knife set; at least in this corner the boys kept things tidy. I walked a little deeper into the lab and saw Byers flipping through an issue of National Geographic. I cleared my throat as I approached.

“Mulder. What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Byers asked, dropping the magazine in his lap. The 3rd was fortunate enough to have three pillars of forensic science in Melvin Frohike, Richard Langley, and John Byers. They had their finger on the pulse of crime investigation techniques and were eager to share their findings with practically anyone who would listen. A good deal of the jargon went over my head but it enhanced my vocabulary to say the least. 

“Frohike called me regarding Spender’s case,” I replied, “We might have a golden ticket on our hands.” 

“He and Langley have been upstairs for a while but they should return soon. Have a seat.” He motioned to a wooden stool near a cluttered lab counter. I obliged. Byers was not much of a talker when he was by himself so his attention shifted back to busywork. I picked at the rough edge of my thumb watching Byers place a metal canister on the end of the counter. He opened it then took a sample of a dark substance, added it to the boiling water, and adjusted the flame on the Bunsen burner changing the intensity. He looked up at the wall clock and turned back to his experiment. The color change in the beaker shifted to a dark brown. Byers gave it a stir and covered the top. He sensed my curiosity.

“Coffee will be ready in a few minutes if you’d like some.”

I laughed and politely declined.

“Don’t you have a percolator?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Just then Frohike and Langley entered the lab.

“Oh good. You’re here,” said Frohike as he reached for a nearby lab coat, slipped into the sleeves and flipped it up onto his shoulders.

“We had a whale of a meeting upstairs,” Langley added, shoving a worn out briefcase across the counter making an open space, “Looks like Spender’s dirty little secret is out.”

“Krycek, my informant, pegged him as a hop head. I knew Spender could be a little on edge but I thought he was too straight-laced to use heroin.” I folded my arms. “What did Skinner have to say?” 

“The boss was none too pleased to find out that one of their top boys was on the horse.” Langley stated.

“And a thoroughbred at that. He was probably dipping into Vincenti’s supply.” Frohike remarked as he adjusted his glasses.

I sighed and shook my head. Byers poured his scientific brew into a small mug for himself and took a sip before saying, “Well there’s your motive.”

His colleagues shrugged in agreement as they each grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Makes you wonder if he was just starting out and got careless,” Langley said.

“Or he had been knee deep in the shit since making a deal, overconfidence took over, he couldn’t pay up and then blammo,” I said as I stood and leaned against the lab counter. Something about this seemed too easy. We had the gunman, we had a relatively clear motive, and we had the Captain scrambling to stuff this whole matter back under the rug. I needed to track down The Titan and put the squeeze on him for some information. Though with a newly buried partner I would need a second set of eyes on my surveillance job.

“Well boys, it’s been a treat but I have to make some telephone calls.”

“Hey Mulder,” Frohike called, “you should take some time for yourself; slow down for a day maybe.”

“That’s what whiskey is for.” I replied as I left the lab and took the stairs, not knowing what I’d walk into when I hit the bullpen.

Several officers didn’t bat an eye as I passed by their desks and I continued to avoid any eye contact as I glanced at my wristwatch. I reached my desk and pulled the phone closer as I took a seat, picking up the receiver. My index finger hovered over the rotary and just as I started to pull the number I heard the distinct baritone of Captain Skinner calling my name. It wasn’t bellowed so I knew I wasn’t being called in to serve detention for misconduct. I placed both hands on my desk and stood then met him at his office door. He blocked the threshold.

“Have you heard?” he asked.

“Yes. I was just down in forensics. I came up here to get started on what I presume is a surveillance assignment.”

Skinner thought for a moment.

“I want you to get a hold of Krycek. He’s going to accompany you on this detail.”

“Oh he’ll be thrilled.”

“Go on then,” Skinner said as he tensed his jaw, “And get me some goddamn answers.”

------

Georgetown Waterfront 1:05 p.m.

  Rain tapped angrily against the roof of the unmarked cruiser as I sat parked down the block from the Piccola Italia restaurant. It was a hole in the wall but a well known haunt for some of Vincenti’s crew. I hoped Carlo Lodi would be tempted by a lunch special of pasta arrabiata and cheap wine. My deli sandwich and soda I grabbed before the cloudburst paled in comparison, but I needed something in my stomach. I took another bite and watched a series of passersby through the streaks of rain on the window. I was early. I adjusted the radio dial and finished my lunch. With a swipe of the wiper blade I noticed a black coupe pull up in front of the restaurant. The door popped open and a hulking figure exited the passenger side, adjusted his jacket, and stepped under the awning out of the rain. He waited for his driver to join him before opening the front door. Just then there was a knock on my window. Krycek had his collar pulled up and drips of water cascaded off the brim of his hat. I rolled the window down to get a better look.

“You gonna let me in?”

“I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“Damnit Mulder...”

“It’s unlocked, Krycek.” I said as I looked at the empty passenger seat then rolled up the window, catching a splash of rain. He crossed in front of the car and waited for traffic to clear before opening the door. He sighed as he removed his hat and brushed off the rainwater. 

“Alright fill me in,” Krycek said. I turned down the radio and had the last swig of soda. 

“Recognize the car down there?” I began. He leaned forward and caught a glimpse as the wiper blade swiped the windshield.

“That looks like Carlo Lodi’s coupe.”

“He’s not alone. His lunch date is a suit that’s either a driver or a business partner, if you get my meaning. They’ve been in there for maybe ten minutes so if I move I can get what I need before his main course arrives.”

“Okay then,” Krycek said as he put his hat back on. 

“I’m just going to have a nice conversation. I need to get him talking. If I get him back to the precinct I can be more heavy-handed.” I adjusted my fedora and touched my weapon for reassurance. 

“You’re not saying “we” a whole lot. What the hell did you need me for?”

“At first I had you joining me on spoiling Lodi’s lunch but then I thought he might recognize you as a mole so you get to stay put. Keep the car running. If things take a turn I want you to head to the 3rd; with or without me. Ask for Captain Skinner.”

“Aw shucks this feels just like old times,” Krycek replied as he fished out a beat-up pack of Morleys shaking a stick loose. He pulled it out with his teeth then tipped his head down as he flipped his lighter, marrying flame to paper, blessing the squad car with a halo of smoke. Car tires splashed through wet pavement and I took that as my cue to get this show on the road. I opened the door and stepped onto the curb. The rain had slacked up as I walked. I narrowly avoided an umbrella being opened by an old man exiting a taxi. He continued on like I wasn’t even there.

Piccola Italia’s brick facade with its windows dressed in red and white gingham curtains fit the stereotype, as much as I hate to admit. But none of that mattered when I stepped inside and was hit with the aroma of bread, oil, and garlic. If I didn’t have a more pressing obligation I would have claimed a table and ordered a plate. I flashed my badge to the young woman at the cashier’s counter and she quickly nodded then went back to straightening menus. I moved past dark wood tables with diners enjoying an array of pastas and soups. My instinct led me through the dining room and I happened upon a curved booth tucked in a back corner near the kitchen. Lodi was there with his driver, luckily still just the two of them. He was reading the sports page from the newspaper and folded it in half then tapped a finger against it.

“That fuckin’ horse is gonna make me a stack of green, I’m telling ya.” He boasted with a laugh.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lodi?” I asked as I approached his table. He put down the paper and took a sip from his glass of wine and gave me a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah I believe you can.” I carefully reached for my badge and flipped it open. “Detective Fox Mulder. I just want to chat.”

“And what makes you think I want to listen, detective?”

“I see you got the sports section there. What’s your game? Baseball, football?”

Lodi shot a look at his driver and gestured towards my direction. 

“This guy...if you must know Mr Mulder, I like the races.”

I took a seat across from him and folded my arms. Then I truly realized how much of a mountain this man was. His square jawline met a thick neck that was being held together by a stiff shirt collar and silk tie. I was waiting for it to burst open with each swallow. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest led to limbs that were solid muscle. The ring on his left pinky finger was about the size of a doorknob and had an insignia in the center. His pin-striped suit looked custom given his proportions. I got a little too comfortable and leaned forward in my chair, threading my fingers together.

“About a week ago, did you talk to a Jeffrey Spender about a horse race. Maybe come to collect a bet?” The mention of the name caught Lodi’s attention and he picked up on my code. Before he could respond, a waiter saddled up to the table and delivered a plate of pasta with a fiery red sauce. Lodi took another sip of wine.

“If I had to come collect you know there was a good reason for it,” he said as he twisted pasta on his fork then took a bite. The other man at the table started to undo his cuffs and slowly roll up his shirt sleeves.

“Well on behalf of the 3rd District precinct, I’d like to invite you over for a little heart to heart.,” I maintained a relaxed facade even though I knew what was coming, “We’ve got evidence placing you at a bar in Adams Morgan the same night as Spender.” Lodi ate another bite and closed his eyes savoring the spice. As he took his wine glass he raised his pinky finger which was the signal. I blinked and then I swear to God I saw enough stars to grace the American flag. A meaty Italian right hook slammed into my cheek like a sledgehammer. Glad he wasn’t wearing a ring. I was knocked sideways to the floor and I tried to catch the nearby table but instead let a dining chair unceremoniously break my fall. I never could take a hit. The few patrons in the restaurant barely took notice at the commotion. Carlo dabbed at the corner of his mouth and rose from his seat.

“Thank you, Theo,” he said as he moved over to pat my assailant’s shoulder. The enforcer’s goon cracked his knuckles and stood looking very pleased with himself. I moved my tongue to the inside of my cheek tasting fresh blood. I adjusted myself to sit upright, though not ready to stand just yet. I snatched a neatly folded napkin from one of the empty place settings and tried to dam the small crimson river from my mouth. Carlo crouched down next to me.

“So, you thought you could just walk into this fine establishment, disrupt my meal, and arrest me?”

“Until now it hasn’t stopped me,” I mumbled against the napkin. 

“Unless you got a warrant in hand, I’m not going anywhere. And this business with who was it...Spender? That’s done and so are you.”

“Why don’t you just bump me off like you did him?” I asked as I tossed the bloody napkin aside. Carlo thought for a moment and leaned in closer.

“I like seeing you get knocked around every once in a while, Detective Mulder.  Puts a smile on my face.” He blessed me with two exaggerated slaps on the cheek then got to his feet. “I think we’re finished here. Theo, show this son of a bitch the way out.” Carlo returned to his meal and raised a glass in my direction. I was still on my ass. I reached for my fedora and Theo took the liberty of hoisting me to my feet. The gorilla hands that left a new beauty mark gripped my upper arms and shoved me towards the kitchen.

“Easy there junior, my dance card is full.” I said as we moved through a swinging door. I was briefly distracted by the aroma of simmering marinara, stewing beef, and an array of spices.  The sous chef and line cooks unphased by the disturbance continued prepping as I was hustled towards the back door and pushed out into the alley.  I stumbled into the brick wall across the way and before I could turn around to get the final say, the goon slammed the metal door shut.  My head tilted back and I gingerly rolled it from side to side. I adjusted the brim on my hat and shuffled down the alley towards the street.

The rain had passed and I found Krycek parked where I left him. He had a fresh cigarette in his lips and was reclined against the car seat.  I tapped on the window and he unrolled it letting the rhythm of Count Bassie and his orchestra glide onto the sidewalk. 

“Looks like negotiations went well,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah you could say that,” I replied. My cheek felt like someone was inflating a balloon under the surface. I needed a drink. A wisp of smoke swirled out of the window and Krycek flicked the butt into a puddle. 

“Take the car back to the precinct.”

“What?”

“You can leave it running with the doors open if you want.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take some advice I was given earlier today and get some rest. This case isn’t going cold anytime soon.” I watched as Krycek shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. There was a pang of mistrust thinking that the unmarked squad car would end up somewhere along the Potomac; but I also got the suspicion that Alex liked playing detective. Also long as I kept him on a short leash I could use him to my advantage. I crossed the street and walked the block until I found a phone booth. Before I slid open the door I had to spit out the stale blood that was collecting in my mouth. My cheek burned like fire. I picked up the receiver and dialed the operator.

“Yes I’m looking for a Dana Scully. Georgetown address.”

[softhaos]

PURELY PLATONIC

pairing – joshua hong x reader genre – fluff  description – you never expected to find a new friend due to ranting about lee chan. you also never expected to find a dumbass spreading the rumor that you and joshua were suddenly a couple. alternatively, you and joshua are really just friends without benefits but uh, everyone else begs to differ. warning – none word count – 4,774 words author’s note – for once, i’m not writing a crackfic, i think? it came out so much more different than i initially planned (which was basically three months ago sdjjk) either way i hope you enjoy xx

set in the victorious universe | can be read as a standalone

You are going to kill Seokmin. As soon as he fixes the mess, that is. You’d love to end his life right there and then, but his early death wouldn’t solve your wifi issue. There is no plausible explanation on to how Seokmin managed to cause a power outage in your apartment but the fact is: with no electricity available, there’s also no wifi.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. You could go several hours without wifi, that’s not an issue at all.

However, when you have to finish revising your article for the college newspaper and send in the final draft of your work before five in the evening because you value your wellbeing and don’t want Chan bitching at you for approximately a month, it becomes a very big issue. And as much as you like to joke about falling off the stairs, you don’t want to actually die due to Chan latching onto you and expressing his annoyance about your inability to report back in time.

You only have three hours left to edit the word vomit you produced and the next best location where you can work is the Pow Wow café two blocks away from the apartment complex. There really aren’t any downsides to the coffee shop: their coffee is heavenly and the internet connection works just as fine as your own. It’s a genius solution.

What you didn’t calculate into your brilliant masterplan is the peak time at Pow Wow. You realize that the moment you step inside the café.

The interior hits the mark of comfort and zero tackiness. Black and red pillows are lying on the couches and give the place more life besides the pale green and beige accents on the wall. There’s a reason why Pow Wow is pretty much considered the best café on campus grounds. The loud chatters blend in with the Bob Marley song that’s playing in a moderate volume from the speakers and become almost inaudible to you as you scan the place for a free table. The disappointment strikes you hard since all you are met with are unfamiliar faces. Whenever you spot a free seat, either the clutter on the table refrains you from claiming it or the person just returned from their refill back to their clutter. The odds are definitely not in your favor today.

At this point, you’re already dialing Mingyu’s phone number in the hopes that he could pick you up and let you abuse his (very shitty) wifi. Any internet connection suffices, you figure, and if the next best thing is Mingyu’s horrible wifi, you just have to suck it up. Your plan C for everything has always been Mingyu and so far, it has always worked out.

Except for this time, it doesn’t.

“Please leave a message after the–” you don’t bother speaking into the answering machine and slip your phone back into your pocket. Maybe you shouldn’t have expressed your desperate need to behead Seokmin, that’s possibly the reason why the odds are not in your favor at all.

Nonetheless, since you’re already here, you might as well get your hourly dose of caffeine.

“Anything else?” the barista – Minki is his name according to the name tag – asks as he writes your name on the cup before sliding it to his coworker. The overly bright smile that is bound to be a forced one never leaves his lips.

“A good wifi connection and some silence,” you shoot back intuitively.

Startled by the given answer, Minki raises a brow and nods understandingly. “Ah, I wish I could have those privileges too.”

He’s about to add something when one of the other workers call your name, a sign that your order is done. You send him an apologetic, fleeting glance before you scurry off and grab your drink.

Cup in one hand and phone in the other, you’re about to dial pretty much every contact you have in hopes that at least someone would be so kind enough and give you their wifi. You’re almost by the door when you suddenly collide against someone and stagger. But before you end up on the ground facedown, warm hands have a firm grip on your shoulders and prevent you from losing balance. Surprisingly, you don’t spill your coffee or drop your phone.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I–” your mind goes blank and the words lingering on your tongue are forgotten when you see his face.

“You sure?” he asks again, brows furrowed in worry. His jet black hair is messy from the wind and some strands reach down to his eyes. However, you still recognize him faintly even if his appearance is different than usual.

“You’re Joshua from Professor Ahn’s composing class, aren’t you?” you blurt out and immediately regret sounding so ecstatic. If it weren’t for your both hands that were already holding something, you would’ve clamped your mouth shut. Judging by Joshua’s startled reaction, you might have as well beamed at him.

“Uh…” he chuckles lightheartedly but is still weirded out, “Y/N, we’ve been in the same course since the beginning of the semester, which by the way, started a month ago.”

“I only ever see you with glasses, so excuse me for not recognizing you right away,” you improvise and scrunch up your nose when you brought up the glasses. Technically, you didn’t lie to him. Up until now, you’ve really only met him with specs perched on his nose.

You haven’t talked a lot with him – scratch that, you’ve never exchanged a word with him before. There has never been a reason for you to approach him and even if you wanted to approach him at the end of a lesson, he’d rush out the classroom as fast as the wind. If you’re not mistaken, he’s pretty much the first person to be present before the lesson and the first to leave the lesson.

Joshua seems to believe you and rubs the back of his head. “I really do look different without glasses, huh? But back to the point. You looked awfully stressed just a moment ago.”

“Karma,” you deadpan, “Or long story short: A friend of mine trashed my wifi, he’s fixing it at the moment but I have to submit my article for the newspaper in a few hours unless I want Chan haunting me.”

Joshua feels the pain to well and cringes at the mention of Chan as if you had set off a foul memory of his. “Chan can be… a handful.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Who does he think he is, running around and acting as if he were God?” at this point, you already lost track of time just ranting about the head editor of the official college newspaper. You must’ve been complaining about your life dilemmas for so long that one guy rudely tells you to not block the way to the exit. That was the incentive for Joshua to pull you away and one moment later, you’re sitting right in front of him.

You’re about to let out all your pent up anger about Seokmin on him when he interrupts with a small smile and hand gesture.

“If you want to rant on, I’ll be glad to lend you an ear. But seeing as it’s five pm in a few hours and you still haven’t sent in the final draft to Chan, I suggest you work on that first.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” you mumble after a moment of silence. That doesn’t stop you from pulling out your notebook and setting it on the smooth wooden surface.

Your comment triggers a wholehearted chuckle. Joshua slightly tilts his head back but quickly recovers after taking a sip from his refill. “Chan’s wrath? Been there, done that. I wouldn’t even want to have the people I dislike go through that.”

“That bad?” you inquire playfully.

“Think Professor Jang’s wrath but a little less Professor Jang.”

You almost choke.

“That’s it. I really have to pull myself together,” you say monotonously and open your article about this year’s talent admission contest. A quick glance at the clock suffices to get your gears working at lightning speed. You still manage to swallow a frustrated groan when you look at the word vomit and suddenly realize how much editing is really needed for this piece.

You may have successfully refrained your voice from exposing your misery, however, your face speaks for itself. You don’t bother to look up or you refuse when Joshua asks, “Need help?”

“If you can help me edit this article, you’re my lifesaver,” you shoot back instantly while keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

Joshua snorts in response. “I used to work on a project with him. Several times, actually. I don’t usually speak highly of myself, but I am confident that I know what floats his boat and what doesn’t.”

This time it’s your turn to let out a burst of laughter. “People still use that saying?”

“That’s Chan’s language when he’s feeling really artistic.” Joshua grins before he stands up and occupies the chair beside you. In the blink of an eye, he’s suddenly leaning towards you and meddles with your laptop so that he can also view the screen. You don’t miss how his eyeballs almost fall out of their sockets as he quickly skims through the words. “Did you write a novel or something? And you’re crazy enough to edit this monster by yourself?”

“Look, I get carried away easily–”

“Samuel Kim deserves better,” he reads out loud and you feel the blood draining from your face.

“...and I tend to be very subjective,” you trail off. Suddenly, editing your article by yourself seemed like the better option. Maybe even having Chan pestering you is the better–

Okay, that’s definitely a lie. You’re not going to finish that thought.

“Let me just share the link so I can access the draft from my own laptop,” Joshua suggests as if he were asking for your permission first. That seems to go down the drain as his nimble fingers are already working fast while he’s speaking. It doesn’t bother you though.

What follows after he accessed your article from his own device is comfortable silence. Besides the occasional comment from his side concerning your statements about some contestants (he was very persistent about the runner-up Ha Yoonbin in particular) and the background chatter, the main sound you perceive is your fingers feverishly hitting the letters on the keyboard.

The two of you are so engrossed in editing the article that you barely process the time. It’s when Joshua returns to the table after grabbing a refill for the two of you that you wonder how long you’ve been working on the text. Your heart stops beating when you realize that you only have five minutes left before the deadline.

However, after skimming through the visibly shorter word vomit than before, you deem the article as fair enough and send Chan the final draft.

With the weight finally lifted off your shoulders, a wave of relief washes over you.

“Joshua, you're my lifesaver. I'm dead serious here,” you say while gazing at him with an equally serious face. “By the way, thanks for the refill. Wait a sec, I'll grab my wallet—”

“It's on me,” he cuts you off and sets the cup on your table before you can refuse. “Seriously, it's no big deal. I'm glad I could help.”

Your eyes flicker from him to the cup and then back to his face. Shooting him an incredulous stare, you set your fist on the table to prove a point. However, he doesn't seem impressed judging by the quirked brow and waits for you to elaborate.

“It doesn't work like this. You don't spontaneously help me out with an over 20,000-word article and buy me a coffee. On top of that, you don't want to be paid back? That's unacceptable!” you declare and demonstratively repeat your action.

A fond smile paves its way onto his face. He attempts to say something but always pulls back in the last moment. So after what feels like a moment of silence too long, he proposes, “Fine, if you really insist, then you owe me one. I don't know when it'll come in handy but let's say I need some help with an assignment for composing class, you'll have to help me out. Deal?”

“Fine by me. But what about the coffee?”

Joshua’s eye twitches. It's a faint movement, barely visible if you don't pay enough attention yet you still pick it up. You refrain yourself from pointing it out though.

“How about you buy me one coffee as we continue our discourse about things Chan does that annoy us some other day?” he inquires after a while, fingers tapping an irregular beat on his cup.

You detect the playfulness in his tone but you also know he isn't completely joking regarding this matter.

A smile erupts on your lips.

“Text me whenever you're free or feeling like it.”

You really did spend several hours at Pow Wow ranting about Chan and his antics. Along the way, you might have found more topics you could collectively complain about or praise that led to a second platonic date.

And a third.

And more after.

Sometimes your conversations even escalated into a debate about the talent admission contest a few weeks back.

(“Ha Yoonbin should've won and any other opinion is invalid!”

“Well, in the end, you're Boo Boo the Fool because believe it or not, Yoon Jeonghan won the contest fair and square!”

“I don't deny his talent but Ha Yoonbin!!!”)

Either way, new topics led to more meetings and at this point, you lost count of the number of times you and Joshua have hung out. He’s easy to banter with and to an outsider, it may seem as if you two have known each other for ages. It’s borderline scary how quickly Joshua picks up your humor and therefore, it also doesn’t take too long for you to clown him the way you clown Seokmin–

You admit you clown him a little less than Seokmin. Nonetheless, his reactions are priceless and it’s not your fault that he gives you enough material to tease him about.

“One day, the broken glass song will rise again,” you promise him, observing his every reaction.

He groans in response and hides his face behind his hands. “Don’t you dare bring it up again.”

“How can’t I? Your meme-worthiness is on the same level as the backpack kid!”

He gives you a death stare but it comes off as a pathetic attempt of a glare, almost whimsical even. The cold look never suited him in the first place, you think because his features are all soft and it’s simply impossible to look unapproachable with his face.

“Don’t compare me with him, Jesus Christ.”

You chuckle lightheartedly and raise your arms in defense. “I was just messing with you! Okay, fine, I’ll shut up about it.”

“Thank you.”

“For now.”

Joshua looks like he’s about to kill you. His eyes might not say so but the rest of his actions do. You don’t miss the way his hands grip his mug tighter, causing his veins to show up slightly. However, he keeps his artificially sweet smile and resorts to changing the topic.

“Jokes aside, I need some help concerning a song.”

That catches your interest. “A song, you say?”

“I feel like some of the lyrics are off,” he explains and finishes his coffee. “Besides, you still owe me that.”

He’s right. While you have spent a lot of time together, the situation where he would need your help hasn’t arisen up until now. Of course, you haven’t forgotten that – even if your memory wasn’t the best, you couldn’t ever forget that he helped you with your article.

That’s how you end up in his bedroom of the apartment he shares with Kim Taehyung, another Seoul Arts student whose major you don’t recall. All you know is that he’s very invested in stage plays but is never the main role of any play. Oh, and he mixes very delicious cocktails.

Joshua’s room is fairly big, but it’s surprisingly very clean. His bed is neatly made, there’s no clutter on his desk by the window, there’s no book missing on his shelf and the several guitars he owns are standing side by side, right next to the closet.

Your eyes flit through the lyrics Joshua handed to you while he’s busy tuning his guitar. The lyrics are cute, endearing even – what else do you expect from a love song titled “falling for u”? It seems as if Joshua’s love (or addiction) for coffee is so strong that he even included it in his lyrics.

“So tell me truthfully–” you look up and smirk “– who is the muse for this song?”

At that moment, Joshua’s cheeks take a faint shade of red. “There is none,” he mumbles and adds in a louder voice, “Anyway, should I sing you the song?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you scoff because there’s no way that he just came up with the lyrics without a person in mind. The words are too personal for that matter. “If it makes you feel more at ease, I promise I won’t tell anyone and if I do, I’ll buy your coffee until the end of the year.”

As if he doesn’t believe it, his eyes go wide. But as fast as he widened, he squints as you suspiciously just as swiftly. “You do know I drink a lot of coffee. Your wallet is going to suffer,” he points out slowly.

You roll your eyes and prop your chin on your palm. “Of course I’m well aware of that. That’s exactly why I said it.”

Joshua studies you hard, conflicted whether he should really trust you or not. His muse for this song must really be someone he’s really crushing on, you figure. While it is some very valuable information and definitely something you can tease him with, you’d never go behind his back and pass it on to others. That’s a big, red no-no.

“Fine, but you really can’t tell anyone else,” he warns and you nod frantically while you move to a sitting position on his bed.

“So uh…” he rubs the back of his head and avoids your gaze, “It’shmmnhung.”

You cock your head to the side, thousand invisible question marks floating over your head. “Who?”

Joshua stares at you, silently asking you if you were serious and turns as red as a tomato. However, he sighs once and repeats his sentence much clearer. “It’s. Kim. Min. Kyung.”

Your last functioning brain cells only process the name slowly. You blink at him dumbfoundedly several times until you finally matched the name with a face. When the realization finally hits you, you nearly fall off the bed.

“What?! You do know she has a girlfriend, right?! This–” you screech while waving around with the lyric sheet, “–is downright a confession, so what were you even thinking?!”

“Of course I do!” Joshua replies in the same frantic manner before elaborating, “This song was written before Minkyung and Yaebin got together and yes, I’ve stopped crushing on her. She was just the inspiration for this song and I find this song too good to dump it.”

“Good.” you nod appreciatively and cooled down from the shock. “I mean, not only good that you’re not going to be petty and break them up or something but good that you’re confident in your songs too.”

“I try to.” he shrugs.

“It’s a start.” you wave your hand as a sign for him to start singing. “Now show me what you’ve got, Mister I-try-to-be-confident-in-my-songs.”

You’ve never heard Joshua sing before, so naturally, you’re mesmerized by his voice from the moment he starts singing. His voice isn’t all too powerful and you doubt he can belt like Seokmin, but his tone is smooth and sweet like honey and the guitar just complements his vocal color. The song is simple in itself but you can already imagine the number of people listening to this while they study.

“I’m falling for you–” he sings with closed eyes and you note the small smile taking over his lips. He really must’ve liked Minkyung a lot.

And suddenly, the door flings open.

“Shua, can you believe? Jeongguk managed to get me tickets to that one show in Hongdae– oh?” Taehyung struts into the room, blue hair messily falling above his eyes but he instantly stops in his tracks when he sees you on the bed while Joshua’s sitting on the carpeted floor.

“–once again.” Joshua’s voice slowly drops into his normal talking voice and shoots him an incredulous stare.

“Uh, I didn’t know you had a guest. You should’ve texted me.” Taehyung’s eyes flicker from you, then to his roommate and then back to you. But once he has calmed down, he puts on a bright smile and addresses you. “I’m Taehyung by the way. I’ve seen you around campus, you’re an acting major if I remember correctly?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you admit and return the smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N, huh? Isn’t Joshua just great at singing and composing?”

“I mean, it’s the first time I hear him sing so I can’t be the judge of that yet–” you earn a huff from the said boy but don’t react to it, “–but so far, he’s promising.”

“You hear that, Shua? You’re promising!” Taehyung beams at an irritated Joshua. “If only he was just as promised when it comes to getting a relationship,” he sighs and lays a hand on his chest as if he were in deep pain.

“Oh, cut it off, Tae. I’m perfectly fine.” Joshua rolls his eyes in a playful manner.

“Well, with this song, he definitely would have someone by his side by now,” you singsong and scrunch your nose. This was a golden opportunity to pull the former Minkyung crush card on him.

Joshua seems to take the hint and tries to silence you with a subtle glare. “Stop that–”

“He would?” Taehyung asks curiously, gaze switching from you to the other guy.

“Tae, stop asking and Y/N, don’t answer–”

“Definitely, if only things were different. Right, Shua?” you stick out your tongue at him as an act of rebellion.

By now, Joshua’s ears have taken on a shade of red and he can no longer hide his embarrassment. The scowl that follows just contributes to it. “I did not ask for this clownery.”

“Fine, I’ll leave. Have fun, you two!” Taehyung says, points finger guns at his roommate and sends him a suggestive grin before he leaves you alone and closes the door quietly.

“By the way,” Joshua speaks up a few moments later, “You’re the only one who knows the crush thing – not even Taehyung knows. So I’d really appreciate it if you kept it for yourself.”

That new information genuinely surprised you. You were quite positive that he also knew and would like to dig deeper. However, you know that he has his reasons for not confiding in his roommate so you refrain from doing so.

Instead, you just coo, “Aw, so I’m the only one trustworthy enough to know of your former crush on Minkyung. Cute.”

You’re pretty sure you weren’t drunk last night and married a stranger you met. You’re pretty sure you didn’t even go out last night.

But the handful of people congratulating you for landing a boyfriend makes you doubt your memory.

You’re busy packing out your lunch when Seokmin startles you from behind.

“I thought I was your best friend!”

“What?” you shriek and look at him flabbergasted, spoon almost slipping out of your grip.

“I can’t believe I heard the news from someone else,” he whines and occupies the seat beside you with a hurt and slightly offended expression.

“Hold up.” you freeze and squint at him. “What are you even talking about?”

“You dating Joshua and not telling me first! That’s what I’m talking about,” he groans as if it were the most obvious thing ever and sulks even more.

This can’t be happening again for fuck’s sake–

“Joshua and I are just friends,” you explain cooly and probably for the 30th time in a span of three hours.

“Oh yeah, and that’s why Taehyung found you in Joshua’s bed and flirting with Joshua when he came home,” Seokmin grunts before he raises a questioning brow at you and leans in closer. “Unless he’s not telling the truth?”

Your jaw almost falls open.

Oh. So Taehyung, huh.

“I mean, he saw me sitting on Joshua’s bed...” you start as you recall your first meeting, “...but that doesn’t mean–”

“So you’re not denying it!” Seokmin cuts you off with a slam on the table. You flinch at the loud smack but luckily, nobody else in the cafeteria seems to notice. The place is quite loud anyway, so no one was going to pay attention to you anyway. “I’m truly happy for you but I’m also disappointed in you for not coming to me first.”

The timing couldn’t have been any better. While Seokmin resumes sulking a fucking lot, a familiar figure enters your peripheral vision. At some point, Seokmin notices your disinterest in him and follows your line of sight.

“Hey, there’s your boyfriend,” he points out.

You don’t even bother correcting him and slowly set down your spoon. “If you excuse me,” you mutter halfheartedly before you get up and walk towards Joshua, who’s standing alone.

No words need to be exchanged for you to leave the scene and talk alone in silence. Just like you, he wears desperation and tiredness on his face and you conclude that he must’ve been bombarded with congratulatory wishes too.

Once you have found a somewhat lonely spot on campus, you go straight to the point.

“Nobody is buying my words when I say it’s a misunderstanding.”

Joshua doesn’t answer right away. He takes his time to choose his words carefully and sort out his thoughts. The sigh of exasperation that leaves his lips after a while makes his frustration clearer.

“God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have–” his mind is a jumbled mess right now, you can tell, and he readjusts the glasses perched on his nose before starting anew. “Taehyung–”

“Look, it happened, okay? It’s not even your fault.” you shrug but can’t help but sigh too. “I admit, it’s annoying that everyone is now talking about it and I doubt they’ll shut up soon.”

You settle into silence. But unlike the previous times, this silence is deafening and downright heavy. There’s no comfort in this void as you just stand there and try to figure out what to say next. Normally, you would either crack a joke or resort to a different topic, but neither seem like the right option.

The silence is deafening and downright a burden and remains one even when you’re the one to speak up first.

“This may sound bad but I swear it’s not as bad as you think. Plus, I think it’s the only way to get out of this mess.”

“Hm?” is the only sound he makes to let you know that he’s listening.

“Why don’t we just go with it?”

You dare a peek at him and find him sending you wordless questions. His brows are scrunched together and he looks so helpless, trying to understand your proposal.

“Nobody will believe us if we keep denying it. We might as well act as if we were dating and after a while, break up,” you elaborate and look away. Now that you said it out loud, it’s really a ridiculous solution. It’s blatantly stupid and idiotic and the worst idea ever–

It’s the only idea you have though.

You want to say something but he beats you to it.

“So you’re saying that we should fake date.”

“Yup.”

“We just have to hold hands to make it believable and then fake a breakup. That should work out. We don’t have anything to lose anyway, now do we?” Joshua smiles weakly in an attempt to lighten the mood. You go along with it.

“Is that a yes?” you raise a brow at him, the corners of your mouth slightly tugging upwards.

His eyes twinkle as he links his arm with yours.

“I prefer boyfriend, but whatever floats your boat.”

[a-deadly-serenade]

The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 6: Familiars Are A Girl’s Best Friend [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

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You ran over to your bedroom door and pulled it open, Adrian joining you out into the hallway as you quietly shut your door. “So, who would be the quickest from here?” you asked.

He hummed, and then turned to face the opposite side of the corridor. “The long library is the closest to your room, so let us start there.”

With that you started on your adventure, having to quickly follow alongside Adrian so that you wouldn’t get lost amongst the winding halls of Castlevania. It turns out that Adrian was correct in choosing this supposed long library, because you arrived in front of a large marble doorway quicker than you expected.

“This is it,” he said, and easily pushed it open. Dark marble tile lined the floor and walls, portraits of famous Greek monsters lining the walls, such as Medusa, the Minotaur, the Manticore, and the Siren. Bookshelves towered high, so high that you nearly tripped on yourself as your craned your neck to try and see the top. Large lanterns that burned with bright red flames, helped illuminate the long wooden desks that lined one side of the immense room. Two plush, purple chairs with golden frames were pushed inside each of the desks, and rows and rows of bookshelves stood behind them.

There were various other doors within the room, which surprised you to think that this place was even bigger than this. Adrian led you down a long corridor and up a set of marble stairs, and finally through another door, which held a small room inside.

A large, antique desk stood in the middle of the room, cluttered with books and parchment and spilt vials of ink. A long white candle sits inside an iron candlestick that is nearly covered in thick wax, the flame flickering along with a small fire that sits behind a metal gate. Two bookshelves are jammed packed with books, scrolls, plays, and maps, ancient artifacts hanging from the walls, like Medusa shields and pots from ancient civilizations.

“Young master, welcome!” cries out an old, nasally voice. Sitting in a large, worn, green chair was an old man. He had a long, curly white beard and piercing black eyes. He almost resembled the great scientist Galileo, you thought, with his dark maroon cap and robes; he appeared about as knowledgeable as well.

“It’s been a bit, old one,” Adrian said with a smile.

“What brings you here today?” he asked, before his expression changed to one of shock when he finally noticed you. “Oooh, now I see why you haven’t been stopping by as much.” there was a twinkle in eye, waggling his finger in teasing as the both of you jumped to argue against it.

“Now, now, calm down. There is no need to get into such a huff,” he laughed. “I can tell that this one is wise beyond her years. It is too much of me to say that you are in the medical profession?”

“Uh… yes, how… how did you…?” you stumbled over your words in mild shock.

He laughed again, but it was not a mocking sound. No, it was more akin to a grandfather laughing at a joke that seemingly flew over your head. “I am this castle’s librarian, my dear. I have quite the talent at reading people.”

“Wow,” you sound breathless. “Well, yes, you are correct. I overheard about Lisa’s abilities, so I sought her out and asked if she would accept an apprenticeship from me.”

“Fascinating,” he replied.

“I don’t know if Adrian told you, but I came from a clan of witches that specialized in healing,” you explain.

“Ah yes,” he nodded. “Although, it was not the young master I talked to. I recall when the Master and I had a conversation about you. He seemed hesitant, knowing about the reputation of other witches that dabbled in dark magic. But, he saw something in you. It seems as though he was correct in making that assumption.”

You were dumbfounded that Vlad had said something like that about you. It was very humbling to know that even Dracula could be impressed by someone other than his family.

“We,” you finally find your voice, a bashful smile on your face. “We actually came here looking for one of Adrian’s familiars.”

“Oh of course I have to fetch that blubbering buffoon,” the librarian grumbled to himself.

“There’s no need,” Adrian replied. “I can fetch him, he is mine after all--”

“No!” he shouted. “I know where he is, off making a ruckus,” he walked over to a small stepping ladder that had been set in front of a bookshelf. He climbed up the first two stairs, muttering to himself as his finger slid across the spines of several books. “There you are!” he abruptly shouted, and heaved the large tome off of the shelf. He plopped it open on his desk and flipped through several pages, he then gave the passage a good slap. “Come on! Don’t waste our time! The young master wants to see you!”

The book suddenly lifted itself off of the desk, something flipping through the contents very rapidly. A low groan rumbled from the text, and in an instant, a human skull covered in a layer of wavering protoplasm emerged.

You gasped, and the skull gave a shake before it turned to seemingly glare at the librarian. “What’s the big idea here, old man? You had no right pulling me out of there!”

“Hush you old fool!” the librarian scolded. “Your master is here!” he pointed at Adrian, and the ghost let out a terrified cry when he saw him standing beside you.

“Master…” he floated over. “I apologize, if I had known that you were coming--”

“That’s enough, Matthias.” Adrian said. “I wanted to speak with you, for there is someone that I would like you to meet.” he gave you a firm tug and pulled you beside him as he introduced you to the ghost. “You will treat her with respect, you understand?”

The skull looks at you with an air of disregard. “You’re the witch that I have heard about,” there was mild disgust in his tone. “Off to drink the blood of the innocent, eh?”

“Excuse me?!” you nearly shriek.

Adrian placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “How many times do I have to tell you that the Countess you once ruled over was not a vampire! You live with vampires!”

The ghost let out a horrible wail. “Do not remind me! The fact that I was cursed to serve a family of vampires is so humiliating!”

Adrian rolled his eyes and turned to the librarian. “I suppose now would be an appropriate time to head out.” he said, and bid him good luck as the two of you left the old man with the chattering, whiny ghost.

“Well that was certainly… interesting,” you laughed, and gave Adrian a grin when you heard him groan.

“I apologize for his behavior, he’s usually not so… insufferable. He usually reserves only nasty fits like these when someone comes into the library unannounced, for he’s usually serving as the librarian’s secretary while he’s away.”

The both of you chuckled as you walked down hallways and staircases, until you were finally led back outside into an outdoor courtyard. Tall, stone pillars towered above the two of you in a circular formation, ledges connecting all of them to form a long pathway that was lined with overgrown ivy. Small candelabras lit the way, the candlelight creating an eerie glow under the moonlight as you walked side by side.

A sundial stood in the middle, and you grazed your finger across the dial as you wondered just what sort of familiar would reside here.

Adrian gave a whistle, before crying out, “Cereza!”

Tiny squeaks filled the night air, and a large black mass blocked out the white light of the moon as a bat with huge, startling red wings flew down from the sky. Its claws dug into the fabric of Adrian’s shirt as it hung upside down off his arm, cleaning its face with its big, leathery wings.

“Who’s that?” you whisper, the bat pausing its grooming to look at you with large, brown eyes.

“Her name is Cereza,” Adrian explained. “I’ve raised her since she was a little baby,” he gave her a good scratch on her chin, and then introduced Cereza to you.

The bats ears flicked from side to side as Adrian spoke, and when he was finished, she turned her massive body around to get a good look at you.

You felt yourself flush under her gaze, silently hoping that she approved of you, although you were unsure what she searched for as she continued to silently stare.

After several tense seconds, she flapped over and gave you quick licks on your cheek, her form of kisses. You giggled, heart aflutter that Cereza had at least judged you to be worthy of being here.

“Thank goodness someone has some sense,” Adrian gave you a smile, happy that Cereza was so fond of you already. “Would it be alright if she tags along? She wanted to come with us.”

“Of course!” you reply. “Who are we off to see next?”

“We will need to head lower into the castle,” Adrian stated. “Follow me, I have a shortcut.” he grabbed a hold of your hand and started to lead you to where he wanted to go.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you hurried to keep pace as he ran towards a peeling wooden door that looked practically ancient. He pushed down the iron handle, and urged you down a set of stone stairs that glowed blue under a mysterious light.

The farther down you walked, the louder the sound of running water grew, your hand getting slightly damp as you ran it across the surface of the wall. Before long, the two of you had made it to the bottom of the stairs, into an enormous underground cavern that stretched for miles.

Giant stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping with their mineral rich solutions onto the growing stalagmites below. Tiny bats flew out from small holes in the stone above, eagerly gobbling up all the dragonflies and other bugs that buzzed in the air. The croaking of fat, green bullfrogs could be heard as well, and you almost felt as if you were on an entirely different planet, as you walked beside a thunderous waterfall.

Adrian followed the river, and before long, you spotted a boat floating at a dock. The ferryman gave Adrian a wave, his sunken gaze lighting up as a large sack of gold was thrust into his hands.

“Hehe, thank you!” he cried out, clambering into the boat as he grabbed the great big oar that would be used to steer.

You climbed in after Adrian, the ferryman having to use hardly any force as the swift currents easily tugged the boat along. The old man put his oar in the water to slow the approach as the rocky shore neared, and when the boat came to a full stop, the two of you (and Cereza) continued on.

It finally seemed as though you had arrived, when Adrian stopped walking so he could knock on the wall. The small space was littered with branches and tiny animal bones, and an array of round rocks and geodes.

Cereza let out a cry and flew over to a hole in the ceiling, where she flapped her wings to cause a gust of air to tunnel inside. “Alright, alright! Give me a sec!” a shrill voice shrieks.

Cereza backs off and allows for a purple, winged demon to hop down from one of the stalactites. The creature had bright red eyes, small horns, and walked on its hind legs, which were, surprisingly, covered in brown tattered pants. Long, thick claws helped it pick up a crudely fashioned spear, and it walked over to Adrian, its hooved feet making loud clacking sounds against the stone.

“Hatred, I would prefer it if we could speak face-to-face,” Adrian said, and the demon leaped into the air, its wings flapping as it hovered in front of its master.

“What brings you down here, Master?” he asked, before letting out a cry of alarm when his eyes landed on you. “Who’s that?!”

Adrian introduced you, and after he let slip that you were a witch, the demon’s demeanor instantly shifted.

“Oh! You’re a witch?” he leaned over to look at you. “Hmm… it doesn’t seem as though you’ve ever communicated with my kind before.”

“Of course not,” you snapped. “Demons are untrustworthy, why would I ever want to summon one?”

Hatred clearly looked offended at your words. “I am not untrustworthy! I protect my Master! Isn’t that right? Tell her!” he shouted.

“I would put aside your demon biases when it comes to Hatred,” Adrian whispered. “I know they have quite the reputation, but he has sworn allegiance to me.”

Hatred nodded his head in agreement. “Yes sir, I have. I would never betray my Master! To do so, would be punishable by death!”

“Well, I don’t know about that--” Adrian tried to say, but Hatred interrupted him.

“No, it is the only deserving punishment! And because he trusts you so much, I will swear my loyalty to you, miss,” he said, giving you a bow.

“There’s no need to do that!” you said, embarrassed.

“Nonsense!” Hatred stated. He snapped his fingers and out game a card, which he handed to you. “From this day forth, should you ever need me, simply focus your energy into that card, and I will appear to you, no matter where you are.”

You thanked him as you took the gift, shocked that two of Adrian’s familiars had accepted you so quickly.

Adrian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sack filled with big, juicy green beetles, which he hands to Hatred. The demon happily gobbled them up, a long leg sticking out from the side of his mouth as he chewed up the last remains.

Cereza gives a few squeaks, and Hatred rolled his eyes. “You always have to criticize me about something, don’t you princess?” he said the nickname scathingly, giving her the stink eye as the bat continued to talk to him.

“That’s enough you two,” Adrian said. “If you’re going to get snippy with each other, we might as well leave.”

Hatred gave Cereza one last glare before he flew over to the pile of rocks in one corner of the room. “Alright, that’s fine by me!” he cried out, picking up a geode and attempting to crack it open with his teeth. “Remember what I said little lady!” he shouted, as you gave him a wave as you and Adrian began walking out of the cave.

“I’m glad that went well, he can oftentimes be very abrasive to people that he is unfamiliar with.” Adrian mused, his hands behind his back.

“I guess being a witch has its benefits,” you joked, Adrian giving you a playful smile in return.

“Off to the last one, then?” you stated.

Adrian nodded and took a hold of your hand once more as he lead you down the pathways back to the ferryman, who took the both of you back across the river, free of charge. Cereza had decided to remain inside the caves, wanting to rejoin the smaller bats that lived there to partake in their current feeding frenzy.

When the moonlight finally made itself visible again, he lead you through the courtyard and back inside of the castle.

The next room that you found yourself in was an extravagant ballroom. Massive would have been an understatement in describing its sheer size, the floor being made of smooth, polished wood and the walls being made of pristine black and white marble. Two chandeliers hung on opposite sides of the room, their large candles igniting themselves as soon you walked through the doors, allowing you to see the beautiful artwork that adorned the ceiling. It curved upwards to form a dome, intricate paintings of Greek figures like Zeus, Hera, cupids, and beautiful nymphs hiding amongst the clouds surrounded a large circular roof window. This part of the architecture was in a league all its own, an enormous stain glass piece that caused the floor below it to be dotted in twinkling rainbow lights.

A gigantic painting hung above a marble fireplace, a lifelike portrait of a main with long black hair and a sharp, pointed face that resembled Adrian. He had gray eyes that shined with hunger and power, a luxurious, silky robe made of ermine draped across his shoulders, that had been fitted into a shining set of armor. A sword was in his hands, legs spread apart in an authoritative stance and he appeared ready to take on the world.

“Is that… your father?” you questioned.

Adrian nodded, taking a spot beside you as he gazed up at the intimidating work of art. “Indeed. This was far before he met my mother, however. This was when he was still a soldier, and a formidable one at that.”

“It’s hard to think of your father before meeting Lisa,” you said. “I cannot even imagine what he must have been like.”

“Mother tells me that humans were terrified of him, believing him to be more myth than man,” Adrian said this in an amusing tone, his heels tapping softly against the hard wood as he walked up to the fireplace.

It was then that you noticed the two swords that hung on the wall, and Adrian easily grabbed a hold of the lowermost, letting the blade rest in his hands.

You were a little confused, but before you could even say a thing, the sword slid out of his grip and effortlessly hovered just above his shoulder.

“How did you--?”

“This, is my final familiar,” his eyes darted over to his right shoulder, and the sword slid off its current pedestal and moved to levitate between the two of you.

“A sword?” your tone was laced with skepticism. “That’s your last familiar? How can a sword be a familiar?”

He took a firm grip of the handle, lifting up the blade so as to inspect it. “Mother tells me that it is a family heirloom, and when I was of age, she gifted it to me.”

Your eyes widened in shock after hearing this. “This sword belong to Lisa?”

Adrian shrugged, lowering the sword so that it rest at his side. “I am not sure if she used it herself, she did not tell me much about it. But it is a very loyal and powerful weapon.”

You looked at him, and then looked at the sword. Curiosity was starting to get the better of you, and you wanted to see how this thing operated when it was being used in battle.

“Show me.”

It was not a question, and one of Adrian’s fine, blond eyebrows rose up, as if challenging your statement. “Are you sure?”

“Did I stutter?”

A grin erupted on his face, the dhampir taking a step back and putting his hands behind him as his sword cut through the air. It did several sweeps, before it stopped dead, and made a direct beeline towards you.

You let out a scream, eyes screwing shut as you raised your hands up in a defensive posture. You didn’t think that he’d just charge at you like that!

A dull thud thrummed up your fingers, and when you didn’t feel any pain, you slowly opened your eyes to find the sword floating in front of your hand, as though it had been stopped by something.

“Did… did you stop it?” your voice wavered, a bit more frightened than you wanted to be.

“Interesting,” he hummed. “Seems as though you created a barrier and put a stop to it.”

“What? A barrier…” you looked around you, confusion etched upon your features. There was nothing surrounding you, so how could he say that you had summoned a barrier?

Adrian grabbed his sword and a stabbed the exact same spot, the blade wobbling slightly as it ran into… something.

“See?”

You were astonished, as you had never done anything like that before. “I never knew that I could form barriers.”

“It seems as though you are powerful than you gave yourself credit for,” he gave you a smirk, sword in hand as he stood before you.

You looked down at your hands, clenching them into fists as you felt the undeniable sting of magic course through your veins. You thought that it would be useful if you could somehow practice the use of this new spell, understanding the only way for it to become stronger was through continuous use.

“Adrian, I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” he leaned forward slightly, his blond hair almost creating a curtain on either side of your face.

He smelled of leather and books, with just a hint of fresh grass, his golden eyes shining like rare gems in the candlelight. You felt yourself unconsciously draw yourself closer to him, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you nodded your head.

“Seeing as how I’m helping you improve your magic skills, it would only seem fair if you assist me in my combat skills.” you gave him a toothy grin, your pulse quickening as he laughed, and his fangs gleamed in contrast to his richly colored locks.

“That sounds fair,” he brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, your skin burning under his touch. You felt his hand linger on your cheek for a moment, before it slid down your neck and then finally rested on your shoulder. There, it remained slightly indecisive, before he relinquished his grip and put his hands behind his back once more.

He gave a flick of the wrist and his sword flew back onto its spot on the wall, while you silently hoped that he could not hear how loudly your heart was hammering within your chest.

“I will see you tomorrow then,” he gently grabbed your hand, peppering not one, but two kisses to your knuckles. “Small lady.”

You were certain you were blushing now, as he called you by the nickname you had given Aria. You gave him a silent nod as he walked away, the words of the hibiscus echoing inside your mind,

I know the true feelings that lay in your heart… of the one with the beautiful golden hair, the prince of darkness.

The reality was so obvious that it was staring you in the face, but still… you refused to believe that these feelings were justified, that they were real…

You let out a deep sigh, laughing up at the moon that hung high in the sky. “What am I going to do…” you muttered, as you walked out of the ballroom, trying to deny the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, and the beating of your heart as your mind reminded you of how he smelled, reminded you of his voice, and reminded you of the way that he had looked at you--

You shook your head to try and clear away these messy ideas, and while you told yourself there was nothing to these feelings, you could not deny that the last thing you thought of before falling asleep was a pair of brilliant golden eyes.

[feynites]

I got more Banana Bachelor AU done! ^-^ Tagging @lycheemilkart, Serahlin of course belongs to @scurvgirl

When Magister Danarius turns up dead the day before Vena’s date with Ana, he honestly doesn’t think much about it. 

It’s kind of surprising, in that weird way that always seems to happen when a person you saw alive quite recently is suddenly no longer breathing. But Danarius seemed like the kind of guy who a lot of people would wish death on, and the news feed all reports his cause of death as a heart attack. The cumulative result of too much excess and decadence in life, or a little too much questionable blood magic, maybe.

 Vena spares a moment to muse that a lot of people’s wishes probably came true, and then moves on. Danarius wasn’t even a client, just a business associate of some of Sylaise’s family. There’s a little gossip about it. Mostly people speculating on who will replace him in the Magisterium or inherit his fortune, since he had no heirs to speak of.

 Vena knows the legalities and the social elements well enough to make an educated guess, which is that one of the other houses will claim Danarius’ seat - probably House Carius, they’ve been up-and-coming for a while and their matriarch has good PR - and his wealth will go to his Helvadus cousins. Not because they have the best claim, but because they have the best lawyers.

 It’s not really a big deal, though. And most of the gossip around the water coolers is actually focused on the bachelor auction, and the results of everyone’s dates. Who tried to bid on who, and who’s already gone on their dates, and who hasn’t. Tasallir makes some apologies to Serahlin and Vena but they both just counter by thanking him, and waving off his concern. He and Serahling reschedule their intended outing. Vena’s not completely sure, because she tends to play that kind of stuff close to the chest. But when the subject of her smitten jeweler comes up, Serahlin’s cheeks seem to get a little pinker.

 Vena just hopes he’s nice. Her last boyfriend was a real piece of work.

 Thenvunin goes on his date and regales everyone about it like it was the plot of some kind of romance novel. But not in the ‘oh it was so magical’ kind of a way, more in the ‘ah we’re at the stage where the prospective couple hates one another but can’t shut up about it’ way. A lot of people wonder about the mystery woman who out-bid one of the boss’ brothers for the other. That makes Vena popular because, of course, she bid on him too, and he sat at their table for a significant portion of the evening.

 But he doesn’t really have a lot of answers. And most people seem more taken with making pointedly-not-pointed speculations about Falon’Din. Mainly, whether or not they’re going to have to deal with him as a client again soon, because the man is notorious for pitching fits whenever things don’t go his way.

 And that usually means property damage. Or assault.

 Vena just hopes that whoever ends up having to deal with him remembers to wear a knife-proof vest. He still gets twinges in his left shoulder sometimes.

 His own date seems to just inch closer, taking longer than he might have guessed it would. He finds his thoughts drifting towards Ana, ‘Dalish Ana’, and her freckles and red hair. He googles her, because of course he does. But he doesn’t get a lot of results. There’s an etsy shop that sells foraged crafts and bath products and stuff, but he’s not even sure if it’s the same person. There aren’t any photos of her. No instagram or twitter that he can find, either, but then it’s not like he has comprehensive information or anything.

 He tries her friend, Selene, but there’s even less stuff to be found there.

 In the days leading up their date, Vena considers texting her or calling her. Wondering about the protocols on that. Everything’s set up and they seem to have exchanged all the info they need. But, he’s never really been one for the ‘wait to call’ rule.

 He needs an opener, though.

 Two days after their first meeting, he just goes for it.

 What do you get when you drop a piano down a mine shaft? He texts.

 There’s a brief delay.

 A flat minor? she sends back, to his absolute delight.

 Yes!!! Excellent!

 A happy face follows.

 I have been trying to think of a better name for your in my contacts, he admits.

 Oh? she replies. Are you fishing for my last name?

 No, he assures her. I never use last names. I like nicknames.

 Some people call me Red, she tells him.

 Do you like it?

 She sends him a shrug. Hmm. Not a solid positive, then.

 Clearly you need something more fun and breezy, he decides. Ana-panda? Mana-fana? Ana-fana-bo-bana?

 He peppers his suggestions with a few thoughtful-face emojis. Ana sends him back a skeptical one, but it feels like it has good energy. Fun skeptical, somehow.

 Banana? she tosses in.

 Vena’s grin widens.

 Well if you insist!

 He means it as a joke, reflexively. But it’s… kind of cute. As they carry on exchanging quips and texts, it sticks in his head. By the time they manage to say goodbye, he’s successfully found a very cute-looking banana picture. It even has freckles. He changes Ana’s contact details in his phone from ‘Dalish Ana’ to ‘Ana-Banana’, and tosses on the image.

 Perfect.

 Vena looks up from his phone just in time to walk smack into his own office door.

 …Alright, maybe he shouldn’t text her while he’s walking. Thenvunin from Reception lets out a snort of surprised amusement. Through the glass window of his office, Tasallir gives Vena is very best, patented ‘how did this moron graduate from law school’ look. Vena clears his throat, and tries to play it off as he opens his door.

 “Are you alright, Vena?” Serahlin asks, as she passes through the hall.

 “Fine!” he assures her. “Just distracted. Who closed my door?”

 She blinks at him.

 “You did.”

 Vena fires off a finger gun at her.

 “Right,” he replies. “Yup. That was… I remember now. Great, thanks Serahlin. Are you still handling the Howe case?”

 “Oh, yes. My client is going to get full custody and one hell of a settlement from her husband. I hope Rendon Howe enjoys sleeping on park benches,” she says, and the deflection works pretty well. Vena had heard as much, and Serahlin always takes a special satisfaction in stringing up adulterers and draining them for every last penny. With another finger gun Vena backs into his office, dignity somewhat salvaged.

 “Brilliant, I’m glad to hear hit,” he says.

 His phone chimes again, and he lifts it up, grinning. But it’s just his work e-mail alert going off. With a sigh, he pockets his phone again, and gets his head back in the work game.

 …Banana, though.

 That’s so cute.

  ~

  When the date finally rolls around, Vena is entirely ready for it.

 He wears his favourite tasteful blue swim shorts, underneath a pair of his nicer cargo shorts. A light jacket, just in case the sea winds get cold, and a loose, faded t-shirt with ‘100% Boyfriend Material’ written on it in faded lettering. Tasallir sees him on his way out, and gives him an unimpressed once-over.

 “You are an idiot,” he says.

 Vena winks.

 “Don’t stay up worrying, honey,” he counters, with a pat to his roommate slash coworker slash arch enemy’s arm.

 “Take your rape whistle,” Tasallir instructs, sniffing disdainfully at that remark. He reaches up to straighten out his sleeve. Which isn’t even really wrinkled at all, but it probably is by Tasallir Standards.

 Vena snorts, and backs his way down the hall.

 “Taz, she’s like two feet tall and sweet as a button, I think I’ll be fine.”

 “That is the kind of stereotyping that ends with people being murdered on beaches,” Tasallir informs him. “She could have cohorts. Or a weapon. Make sure you keep emergency services on speed dial, it is first date protocol.”

 “This is worrying, by the way, this is exactly what I’m telling you not to do,” Vena points out, jogging backwards to the elevator.

 “Look where you are going, you idiot,” Tasallir counters.

 “Love you bunches!” Vena jokes, before blowing a kiss, and then finally turning around to hit the call button. The elevator doors open straight away, and he happily makes his way down to the lobby. Carefully balancing a bag full of beach supplies, and double-checking his phone and wallet in his pockets. He fishes his favourite pair of sunglasses out of the bag’s pocket, and slides them on as he nods to the doorman and makes his way out to the street and down towards the parking garage.

 He’d offered to pick up Ana, but she assured him she had a ride. Probably smart, Vena will concede - joking aside it really is their first date, and if she came with him then she’d have to go back with him, even if she didn’t want to.

 Of course, Vena has zero intention of making her not want to. He’s almost forgotten that this date is a result of a weird bachelor auction bidding type situation. They’ve texted one another a few times now. Mainly just corny jokes and puns, but he’s not complaining. Even so, it’s not like Ana knows a lot about him. What if he was a mass murderer or something? That would suck.

 So he gets his car alone, and turns up the radio. Listening to one of the local stations as he devotes the first thirty minutes of his commute to just getting out of the city traffic, before finally hitting less cluttered roads, and driving his way out of Arlathan.

 It always feels so good to do that.

 The beach isn’t exactly quiet, but it’s not being mobbed either. Vena finds a parking spot and then has to walk a fair bit to reach the meeting point. He runs a bit behind, luck of the commute, but when he gets to the little beach side grill he immediately spots his date waiting for him at the front.

 Ana’s wearing a red bikini top with a sunflower pin on it, and a loose green jacket that makes her eyes pop. There’s a dark lipstick on her mouth, and a leaf-shaped charm necklace held by soft cord around her neck. Her freckles are all on full display - well, as much as they could be without that nude beach situation they’d tossed around - and her hair nearly looks blonde in the bright sunlight.

 At least until she turns her head, and the red hits him when she moves. She beams when she sees him.

 “Hey, Bachelor Number Nine,” she quips, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet.

 Vena grins and does a mock stroll down an invisible runway, turning at the end when he gets to her. He feels light and playful, even if his heart is beating decidedly faster. He loves this feeling, he thinks. The cusp of something good and new, maybe even amazing. But still tentative, too. It’s a lot like the feeling he gets when he drives out of the city.

 “Hey Ana-bo-bana,” he replies. The pockets of her jacket look full, he notes. Something like a leafy twig seems to be poking out of one of the bottom ones, and she’s got a flower in her hands that she’s fiddling with. As he draws level with her, she grins and reaches up to slip it over one of his ears.

 “This grill smells good, and the beach is pretty,” she tells him. “What’s first on the itinerary?”

 Vena moves the flower a little more securely behind his ear, and offers her his arm.

 “Lunch, if you like?” he suggests.

 Ana takes his elbow.

 “Oh, good. I was hoping you’d say that,” she agrees. “Work was absolutely killer this morning, and I’m famished.”

 She grins. Vena’s not entirely sure he’s caught the joke, but after a moment, he decides it’s not the end of the world.

 He grins back.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Fragile Things (ch1, baon)

Summary:  It’s been a very long week

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The sofa was empty when Edge first walked in from work, the television dark and silent. He took the time to hang up his coat and set his briefcase by his desk before calling up the stairs. “Stretch?”

No reply. It was not entirely a surprise. The past two days Stretch had been late coming home, working on some sort of project in the lab right up until dinnertime. He hadn’t mentioned what it was yet, but again, that was hardly unusual. For every project that he wanted to discuss in fine detail there was another that would be kept behind whatever mental embargo that Stretch put on it, until he’d worked his way past his own set of checkpoints enough to bring it up.

Strange that it didn’t seem to matter how important a project was, whether it was a secret one for Asgore or something ridiculous he was designing for the neighborhood children. Stretch had a certain goalpost that all his work needed to reach before he’d talk about it, some mental scale that needed to balance. It made Edge wonder how many were languishing down in his lab, exiled until such a time that they qualified.

Whatever it was, Edge was honestly looking forward to hearing about it. Not that he’d understand most of what he was told, but that hardly mattered. What he wanted was to see Stretch talking about it, the animated way he spoke with his hands, the flash of his grin and the bubbling excitement that always came when he’d made some sort of breakthrough.

He’d been tired but pleased all week so it must be going well. Perhaps today Edge would finally get to hear about the finer points. Until then, he took advantage of the empty house to turn on his preferred music station, contemplating dinner and perhaps dessert. There was a little time for him to come up with something.

It was easy to lose himself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and setting a pot on to boil water for rice. Vegetable curry sounded delicious, it was a meal he made often since Stretch liked it as well, and it would come together quickly.

The heady aroma of spice filled the air and he breathed it in contentedly, soft magic filling his mouth. Lunch had been some time ago and he hadn’t had time to even grab a muffin, trying to keep up with both his own work and Janice’s. It was difficult to resist the urge to work through lunch as it was, the temptation lingering in the back of his thoughts, demanding that he not fall behind.

Learning to ignore that voice had taken him years and Edge wasn’t about to start obeying it now. Exhausting himself would do favors for no one and the other teams were more than happy to take on little extra work until Janice returned. He didn’t have to do everything on his own and time enough to eat his lunch was little enough to ask.

By the time the rice was done, fluffy and steaming, and the curry in a serving dish, it was nearly seven. Edge frowned at the clock, niggling concern starting to replace hunger. Stretch was never this late, even on his most distracted days.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, letting Stretch know that dinner was ready, if he could please pull himself from his work long enough to eat it before it got cold. No reply; the flag beneath it stayed at delivered but never changed to read.

Food forgotten, Edge pulled up the tracking app. As he’d guessed, it said Stretch’s phone was down the road, at his brother’s house where his lab was still downstairs. When he’d moved in, the lab had remained since Stretch hadn’t wanted to go through the effort of dismantling everything to move it when he could shortcut the distance easily from their living room. It had its own entrance, a safety precaution against fumes, and Blue hadn’t minded, so there it stayed.

Not a problem, except if Edge wanted to visit the lab, he needed either a car or a jog.

He didn’t visit often.

With a sigh, Edge covered the serving bowls before he slipped on his boots and coat. He scooped up his keys on his way out the door, not that it was a far walk but he wanted to eat sooner than later. The drive was brief, and it was without a shred of guilt that he parked on the street rather than the driveway. As much as he liked Blue, if he caught sight of them, they’d be trapped for twenty minutes of chatting before they escaped. He was hungry, damn it, and manners could wait for another day.

The lab door was unlocked, and Edge added that to his mental list of complaints. There was a keypad for a reason, what was the point of a lock if anyone could wander downstairs at any time, whether or not they had good reason? Edge didn’t need a PhD to know that some of these experiments were delicate and one interruption could ruin weeks of work.

“Stretch?” he called as he made his way down the stairs, not wanting to startle him. The lack of reply was worrying, and he pushed aside the heavy plastic curtain in the open doorway, stepping into the lab proper.

Aside from the wild clutter of the desk which was a mess of papers and toys, a set of stuffed chickens sitting pertly in the middle, the worktables were all neatly organized, each one with a clipboard hanging on one end. Edge didn’t recognize any of the equipment or experiments, and didn’t care because Stretch wasn’t standing by any of them.

His phone was sitting on the last table and Edge started towards it automatically, only to freeze as he caught sight of a skeletal hand extending past the end of the table, fingers lax against the polished floor tiles.

“Rus?” Edge gasped, moving so quickly he stumbled over his own feet, falling with abnormal gracelessness to his knees where Stretch was sprawled out on the floor, pale and still. His sockets were closed, a thin line of marrow running from his nasal aperture was dried to maroon which meant he’d been here a while, he’d been lying here while Edge was chopping fucking vegetables, he-

Enough. Panic wasn’t going to help in the slightest and Edge pushed it aside and drawing on inner calm. Stretch wasn’t dust which meant he was alive.

A Check sent a quiver through that fragile calm, shaking him to his core. Stretch’s HP was into the decimals and his magic was vanishingly low. Edge wasn’t incapable of healing but no how much training he’d gone through, he was still terrible at it. It wasn’t an innate skill of his and with Stretch’s HP so low, it was possible trying would do more harm than good.

Any mental stability was slipping away and Edge knelt for too long, frozen in indecision, until he remembered where he was.

His fingers were shaking, he noticed distantly, pulling up his contact list and finding a number that was close to the top. It rang once, twice, and then a familiar voice answered.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. “Blue, I need you to come downstairs to your brother’s lab, right now, it’s an emergency—”

The phone hadn’t even disconnected when the familiar pop of teleportation came from behind him. Blue was moving before Edge could say a word, a low moan escaping him as he caught sight of his brother’s still form. Sans was at his heels, the source of his quick shortcut, and he stood back, his eye lights dim and shocked even as Blue laid his hands on his brother’s rib cage.

His hands flared, brilliant with magic and Stretch convulsed, his cry garbled and pained as healing was forced directly into his soul. His heels drummed against the floor, sneakers squeaking as he strained, arching up hard enough that his joints popped. Whether it was into his brother’s touch or a simple reflex, Edge didn’t know. He could only stand back, unable to touch for risk of that magic flowing into him instead of the intended target, his own sockets narrowed as he watched Stretch’s HP crawl back upward.

There were a few dark spots of marrow staining the front of Stretch’s sweatshirt, perfect round droplets, and Edge couldn’t stop himself from wondering vaguely if it would wash out.

Behind him, Sans was moving, and Edge glanced at him unwillingly, watching him study the worktable. There was a machine of some sort on it and that was what had Sans’s attention, softly glowing dials that Sans was looking over. He caught Edge watching him, the corners of his permanent smile curled tight and upset.

“he’s been using the magic distiller?” Sans asked sharply.

“I think so,” Edge admitted. He wasn’t certain on the name, but he knew what the machine was. Stretch had been working on a way to stabilize healing magic into a carrier, like an ointment or an oil, but that was an ongoing project Sans was supposed to have been working on with him, for Asgore. “He said it was safe.”

Sans’s expression revealed nothing, but Edge was accustomed to a much higher grade of deception.

“He lied,” Edge said flatly.

The hesitation was brief, and revealing, Sans’s eye lights flickering to the floor where Blue was starting to sweat, trickles running down the sides of his face as the glow in his hands wavered. Stretch was so terribly still again, the normal warm tint of his bones paled to starkness.

“wouldn’t say that,” Sans said, too carefully, too slow.

“Would I?”

Another hesitation but it seemed he’d reached the limits of Sans’s willingness to prevaricate. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “probably.”

A low whimper interrupted whatever he might have said, and later Edge would think that was for the best, the words hovering on the border of being spoken had been harsh, cold. Sans would have borne his undeserved anger without a complaint and he likely would have forgiven it, the circumstances being what they were. But he wouldn’t have forgotten it.

Still kneeling on the floor, Blue was panting, his own eye lights dimmed from their normal cheery stars. “That’s all I can manage,” Blue said wearily. “He’s out of danger but we need to get him to the hospital.”

Tired as he obviously was, Blue automatically started to pick him up and Edge reached out to stop him. “I’ve got him.”

Blue’s smile was weakly grateful. “I know, you take good care of him.”

“Not good enough,” Edge replied curtly. He didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t care to hear Blue trying to make excuses for any of them. Instead, he carefully lifted Stretch’s slight weight from the floor, shoving his own anguish at his stillness down, burying it beneath necessity. In his arms, Stretch was completely limp, utter deadweight that was difficult to negotiate past the stairs. Once he reached the sidewalk, Edge was forced to allow Blue to fish his keys from his pocket, Sans taking the passenger side as Edge lifted Stretch into the backseat.

With trembling gentleness, he settled Stretch in his lap, his eye lights focused on his still, silent form, Checking as often as he dared, taking what comfort he could in his unwavering HP, even with it being two points lower than his max. It was enough, he would be all right, Edge told himself. He was going to be fine, just fine, he’d recover from this, he would.

And as soon as he did, Edge was going to kill him.

-tbc-

[jeffsterlings-blog1]

#National Fatten Niff Up Day → A Nick and Jeff Para

Tagging: @bigboynickyd​ & Jeff Sterling Timeframe: Just a random day of the week. Location: Jeff’s apartment, and basically all of LA. General Notes: Nick comes over for Broga to get his chakras aligned, but Jeff quickly realizes there are far better ways to relax his friend. Warnings: Niff being each others personal hype man, tooth rotting fluff, a lot of ice cream. 

Jeff: Jeff shouldn’t have been surprised that Nick agreed to come do Yoga with him, but he still kind of was. He knew of very few people who were down for almost anything; most people weren’t as receptive to different things as Nick was. It was refreshing, to say the least, and he always looked forward to hanging out with him whenever they both got the chance. Nick’s energy was always contagious, so the thought of seeing his friend again instantly put him in a good mood. He wasn’t sure if he was actually serious about the yoga thing, but he was sure time would tell. It felt like awhile since he’d seen him in person, so he wouldn’t even mind if they just hung out normally for a bit.  After a short while of getting distracted by the sitcom playing on TV, and making sure nothing was cluttering the floor of his living room, Jeff heard commotion coming from his front door. With a grin spreading over his face, he called out, hopefully loud enough for Nick to hear him. “One second!” Jeff rose up from his couch with a stretch and made his way over to the door. Pulling it open, he couldn’t help but exclaim out loud. “Dude! Nick. You made it!” He couldn’t help the excitement in his voice as he pushed his door open wide for him to come through. His first instinct was to reach out for a hug or a fist bump or something, but he figured he’d at least let him get through his door first. “Wow, can’t believe I’ve got the legendary Nicky D on my doorstep. Maybe I should instagram this.” He joked slightly before waving him in. “Come on in.”

Nick: Nick was beyond psyched to spend some quality time with Jeff. He didn't care what they were doing together... He just liked being around the guy and they just got along so well that Nick was up for anything. Yoga wasn't exactly something he would do on his own but Nick kept an open mind about it all and trusted that Jeff would help him get all of everything he didn't understand. When he arrived at Jeff's place, he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet and nearly tripped into the door because he was so excited. When the door opened, he yelled out at the same time as Jeff, stepping inside and scooping Jeff up into a big bear hug. "Dude!" he exclaimed, clearly overjoyed just from seeing him. "Jeff, man, it's been too long!" He laughed, still grinning ear to ear when he finally broke the hug. "We'll definitely alert the public of this amazing meet-up but I'm gonna be selfish for now. Man, Niff Squad back at it again!"

Jeff: Seeing how excited Nick was only hyped him up more, and he grinned wider as he was pulled into the worlds biggest hug. Not missing a beat, Jeff wrapped his arms around the guy tightly. “WAY too long. Can’t go that long again, man, I missed you.” He laughed out of excitement  as they broke the hug, and he took a small step back in order to give him space to come in. “They can wait, honestly, I wanna be selfish too and savor this Niff reunion first. How the heck have you been??”(edited)

Nick: "Don't worry... now that I'm a free man again,  I plan on hanging out with you every chance I get!" Nick told his friend, feeling relieved that he wasn't on a filming schedule anymore. Now inside Jeff's abode, he closed the door behind him and took a breath of air. "Honestly, man, I, like, really needed this chill day," as he spoke he seemed to deflate a bit from his initial exuberance from seeing his friend but still wore a smile on his face. "Now I'm only tellin' you because I know you're my boy and you'll keep my secrets but partying all of the time..." he let out another sigh and chuckled, "... it gets exhausting after a while, you know what I mean?"

Jeff: “Sounds good, we’ve gotta make use of our free time when we have it. I’ve been cutting back on my live shows so I can focus on other things. Sometimes you just need a break.” He calmed down some himself, and looked at him with some concern. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for, right? What good is it having bros to begin with if you can’t have chill days with them at least sometimes?” He knew Nick liked to party. That was no secret. But sometimes he wondered if it ever got tiring for him. He knew it was in Nick’s personality to be the life of the party, but everyone needed down days. Clearly Nick needed one today. “I know exactly what you mean. We can hang out here all day if you need that, Nick, I’ve got a clear schedule for once. We can Yoga it up, complete with incense and everything.” Jeff grinned again. “I’ll go easy on you, though, and if it isn’t vibing with you we can just watch a movie or something.”

Nick: Nick was glad to hear that Jeff was also clearing his schedule to catch himself a break. Even though he had no first-hand experience in that field, he was sure playing shows all of the time was probably exhausting.  "Yeah, definitely. I live for the days when I can just kick back and chill with you, bro. I am so psyched to yoga this thing up," he told Jeff with a determined nod of his head. "We can do the whole shebang with the yoga, the incense, and--" he paused as he tried to think about the other things related to that and then shook his head. "Well, you know all that jazz so today I am completely in your hands and I'm just gonna follow your lead." He did a little curtsy-bow, "Brofessor Jeff, Yoga Master." With a slight chuckle, he looked around eagerly. "So when do we start?"

Jeff: “I never thought I’d hear you say you’d be psyched to try Yoga. Or anyone, really. But I’d be honored to be your Brofessor.” He tried to say with a straight face, but his amusement shone through nonetheless. Nick was always so over the top over everything; it was one of the reasons why he was so fun to hang out with. “I’m not like, an expert, but I live for this kinda stuff. You’re in good hands. I do this every night; helps me sleep.” He laughed as Nick bowed and shook his head in amusement. “We can start now, if you wanna jump right into it. Take your shoes off, make yourself comfortable. I found some Chocolate scented incense at this shop downtown the other day. Had no idea those scents were a thing, so of course I bought it.  I can put that one on for you. I think you’d like it way better than my Frankincense.” He held his hand out to signal for Nick to wait a moment as he walked over to the counter that already had his supplies on it. He didn’t always go all out, cause he wouldn’t be able to take himself seriously if he was full out meditating every single night. But for Nick he’d definitely pull out all the stops — even if he didn’t end up being a fan of Yoga, maybe he’d at least have fun with the situation. “Alright, student Nick.” He said as he lit the end of the stick with a lighter that he’d left beside everything. “We’re starting out slow. Go ahead and sit down, criss cross applesauce style.”

Nick: Nick didn't really understand the whole yoga thing but he knew it gave Jeff peace and made him happy, so he was willing to try the things that made Jeff happy, too. "Yeah, totally-- let's just jump right into it!" he said with a broad grin, eyebrows lifting at the mention of chocolate. "Oh, man, chocolate scented?! For real?! I didn't even know that was a thing!" Nick kept where he stood but bounced on the balls of his feet, bubbling with excitement. "I thought that stuff just came in like, flower and herb smells. That's so awesome!" He watched with wide, interested eyes as Jeff lit the incense. This was a whole new experience to Nick and he wanted to know more about everything. When Jeff told him they were starting out slow, he did his best to reel his excitement back in and sat down just as instructed. "Criss cross applesauce," he repeated, taking a deep relaxing breath of air as he sat straight up. It was a little difficult to dial back his intensity but he knew relaxation and serenity was important in yoga... Nick just wanted to impress his friend that he could do this.

Jeff: Jeff knew it sounded a little ridiculous to people at first when they found out that he was into Yoga, among other similar activities. It wasn't just for girls or Mom's, though, it could be for anybody. So he was kind of really excited to do this with Nick. No matter what happened, it'd be fun. Things with Nick were always fun. "I didn't know until yesterday. I won't lie to you....It does kind of smell like a stale Tootsie Roll. But that kinda reminds me of Halloween, personally. And Halloween is always a fun time. So I say we just go with it." He smiled at Nick's excitement; it was honestly so pure. He'd seen him on TV before actually meeting him, and he was expecting some douchey party dude who was always wasted. But that wasn't Nick at all, and it didn't take him long to see that. And to want to befriend him ASAP. "It is mostly herb and floral scents, though. To be honest with you they kinda make me sneeze. Incense is so not for everybody."  Already barefoot and ready to go, he walked over to stand in front of Nick before slowly lowering himself to the ground. "Good. We just want you relaxed first. Normally I'd play music, but last time I did this I blasted Aerosmith for about an hour. And that might not be for everybody, either." He smiled at him and straightened his own back. "Okay! Sweet. We're just going to focus on our breathing. Nothing too crazy.  It helps if you close your eyes, just listen to my voice. It'll be like Simon Says without the mind games. Just breathe --- In. And out."

Nick: The aroma of chocolate filled Nick's nostrils when he took a deep breath in and he exhaled with a wide grin on his face. "Whoa," he giggled. "Man, I love the way Halloween smells. Plus, you can't really go wrong with candy, know what I mean?" He listened to Jeff talk about different incense smells and he almost wanted to just smell all of them right now to see which one he liked best. "This incense stuff is like perfume but like... it's just the air. It's so awesome, man." He grinned when Jeff sat down across from him. It was difficult for him to sit still but he closed his eyes at Jeff's suggestion and then all there was were the chocolately smells and Jeff's voice. "Simon says 'breathe'?" he joked with a quiet voice before following the blond's lead and breathing in and out as evenly as possible. He could already feel himself begin to relax a bit and that usual insistence to have his energy cranked up to 11 wasn't quite so insistent anymore.

Jeff: The grin never left his face as Nick continued to be wowed by everything. “Maybe you should invest in some. I’m telling you, man, it’s relaxing. You can probably find other candy scents, too. I’ll keep an eye out for you.” Jeff’s own eyes fell shut, and he was about to focus on his own breathing when Nick joked. A snort escaped him, and he cracked an eye open to look at him in amusement. “Simon says please breathe so you don’t die. I kinda need my best brodude to survive this yoga session.” He let himself fall silent for a second so Nick could focus. “Most of yoga is just breathing and learning how to carry yourself. Think about things that relax you, or make you feel good. Then push all of the bullshit out of your mind.” He began softly, hoping his talking wasn’t killing the mood. “Then we’re gonna stand up and do some stretches, ‘kay, dude?”

Nick: Nick was glad that Jeff liked his joke. He always liked attention but getting it from the people that mattered to him was his absolute favorite. Getting a laugh or two out of his friend was worth way more than any kind of ratings or the number of likes on a tweet. "Your bro's gonna be aces at this breathing thing," he insisted as he continued breathing in and out. He tried to think about happy things and then nodded. When they were quiet again and all that could be heard was the sound of each other's breathing, Nick let himself relax again. He thought he was doing really well so far. "Stretches, got it." Nick worked out and lifted weights on occasion and he always stretched beforehand so he figured it would probably be just like that.

Jeff: "You're already doing awesome, I mean --- you already know how to breathe, thankfully, so that's one thing out of the way." Nick seemed so intent on learning this Yoga thing that Jeff decided they should probably progress sooner. "Okay." He tried not to sound too amused. He kind of liked this whole teaching Yoga thing , especially if the students were all like Nick and super into learning it. "Let's stand. We're gonna do some of the classic stuff. Just simple balance stuff. Did you ever have to do gymnastics or something when you were in school?"

Nick: "This yoga stuff would really hard if I didn't know how to breathe, man," Nick laughed as he opened his eyes and followed Jeff to stand up off of the floor. Even if the mood was calm and quiet, he was actually having fun so far. He tried to think back to his high school days and couldn't remember doing anything like this or anything like gymnastics. "Uhhh, I didn't do any gymnastics but parkour is kinda like that, right? I can do some pretty awesome parkour!"

Jeff: "You prove an excellent point." Jeff looked at Nick for a moment as he thought about what would be best for him. "Did you really? That's so cool --- parkour was so big back in the day. Yoga is nothing like that. But. You still have to use strength! So I mean, it's kind of similar?" He thought out loud before rising to his feet. "Okay, my dude --- Up. Get ready for some stand-still parkour. If that even is such a thing. We're gonna balance and hope we don't fall over and break ourselves." He spoke with a solemn nod.

Nick: Nick brightened up when his friend commended him on his parkour skills but then deflated a bit when he also pointed out it wasn't really the same. But oh well, this whole thing was about new experiences anyway so he was still in the moment of it all. "Stand-still parkour," he repeated Jeff's words and nod. "Dude, I have ah-mazing balance so no worries here. What's first? Some cool handstands?"

Jeff: "If you wanna jump right into that --- then sure. I'll be here in case the ground shakes and you lose your balance." He nodded, not wanting to say it's a real possibility that Nick could very well lose his balance all on his own. "We may as well so you can see how cool it is when you really ---" He snapped in the air for affect "---Nail that pose." Jeff stretched his arms over his head as he looked at him, pondering how to go about this. "Okay. We're just gonna twist around for a bit until our muscles feel stretched out. Then. THEN, dude. It's gonna get real." He twisted his torso from side to side briefly. "And then....we're gonna reach down, and plant our hands firmly on the ground. Sound good so far?"

Nick: Nick laughed as Jeff snapped his fingers and he wasn't about to disappoint. He stretched along from side to side just as the other did, limbering himself up. "Right, Zombieland rule number eighteen-- limber up!" he nodded and was determined to really nail this handstand. It seemed like Jeff was pretty confident about this. "I didn't think there were actually cool handstands in yoga; I'm so ready, bro." he told him, taking a step back and planting both hands on the floor while his feet swung into the air. He staggered as he struggled to find his center of balance, 'walking' a bit wobbly with his hands before losing his balance completely and falling over-- directly into Jeff.

Jeff: “There can be anything in Yoga. You just gotta make it look fancy.” Figuring he should lead by example, Jeff also got in the position to do a handstand. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t traditional Yoga — whatever, he never claimed to be an expert. And Nick seemed to enjoy the idea of it, so why not. With his hands firmly on the floor, he let out an excited laugh at Nick’s words. In retrospect, maybe he should have taken one hundred steps back before they both tried this. But it was too late, because before he knew it, Nick was toppling over and onto him before Jeff was even fully balanced himself. Letting out a surprised yell, his hands wobbled and he began to crash down forwards and into Nick. “Watch out!” He tried to warn although, obviously, it was too late because they were both down now. “Are you okay??”

Nick: Nick let out a little groan from having fell over and then tried to laugh it off, untangling his limbs from Jeff's and lying down beside him. "I'm cool, don't worry, man," he chuckled and then turned his head to look at the other. "Are you okay? I didn't like, elbow you in your face, did it?" He pushed himself into a sitting position to get a better look at Jeff, making sure he hadn't bruised him. His tone had changed from joking to concerned. "Sorry I fucked up our yoga sesh... I thought I had way better balance than that."

Jeff: That was definitely not a professional move on his part, maybe he shouldn’t be opening his own Yoga studio anytime soon since. “No, you’re fine. I think you kicked me in the shoulder, but I also think I kicked you in the stomach. We both beat each other up. I think you had the worst of it, though, you came down pretty hard. You sure you didn’t break anything?” He lifted himself up and shook his head as a smile began to creep onto his face. “I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t the first Yoga related accident I’ve ever had.” He teased and reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t. I’m sorry I ruined your first Yoga sesh. We should have started out small. You probably don’t feel super zen right now. I don’t guess you’d wanna try again?”

Nick: Nick shook his head. "No, bro, you didn't ruin anything," he insisted, and Jeff's reassurances made him feel a little bit better. "It'll take a lot more than a foot to the stomach to keep me down. We can totally try again, though... I mean, I kinda suck at being your bro-ga student but I don't wanna be a quitter, either." He looked up at him and offered up a smile, patting the hand resting on his shoulder. "One little yoga-related accident isn't gonna keep me away from learning this stuff."

Jeff: "Dude, you're the best Broga student, don't get yourself down. Accidents happen, right?" He clapped him on the shoulder and dropped his hand down to the floor in order to push himself up to his feet. He reached a hand down to Nick to help him to his feet. "You went in head first, literally. I've never seen anyone try to learn that fast." Jeff shook his head. "What do you usually do to relax? We can try one of your things, since my thing almost killed you. Otherwise we can try to do some more handstands. Or cartwheels. I'll be honest with you, not the most traditional Yoga moves. But it is more fun."

Nick: With Jeff's help, Nick returned to his feet. "Maybe when I practice my balance, we can try this yoga stuff again," Nick suggested.  "Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger so since I only almost died today, I'll be a master of yoga in no time!" When prompted about his preferred method of relaxing, Nick crossed his arms over his chest and a perplexed look came over his face.  He couldn't really remember a time where he specifically went out of his way to relax. He was always on the go or doing something or getting drunk. "Uh... does sleep count?" he asked with an embarrassed chuckle.

Jeff: “Eh, after a few more times, you’ll be way better than me. Guaranteed. We can try it again whenever; next time I’ll make sure to spot you so we have no other incidents.” Jeff raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity as Nick thought. “Hey, it can! I take naps all the time, dude. That always helps. And I mean, I’ve got extra room if you wanted to do that --- but no, I meant other stuff. Like Yoga. This chill day is for you. I said we’d help you find your zen and I meant that.” Jeff nodded, mostly to himself. “We will find your version of Yoga even if it kills us. Okay... no, that was dramatic. You know what I mean.”

Nick: "My version of yoga..." Nick mumbled to himself as he continued to ponder. He really appreciated that Jeff was so eager to help him out. It was true that Nick felt a little more stressed out than usual, especially after having spent the last month or so partying every single night. "I dunno, man..." he said, his instincts telling him to crack a beer or maybe something even stronger. But Nick wasn't here to drink. He didn't want to party-- not today. "I gotta find a thing that ain't about me getting drunk or doing other stupid shit... Like how you got your yoga and it's like, relaxing and smells amazing." He plopped himself down onto Jeff's sofa and let out an audible, exasperated sigh.

Jeff: "Yeah. And it could be anything. Playing video games, rock climbing, you could even paint ceramics if that was your thing. Screw what anyone has to say about it." Jeff came over to sit next to him, almost feeling bad that the Yoga thing didn't work for him, although he did know it wasn't for everybody. "You know, before I picked up the Yoga stuff, I was a mess." He admitted. "I was stressed out, like, all of the time. It was really effecting me mentally. But one day this friend of mine dragged me along to one of the sessions, and I thought I'd hate it --- but I didn't. You never know until you try things, you know?" He paused, in thought. "Okay, get your shoes back on, we're going out. Don't ask me where, because I'm 100% not sure. But we're gonna do something that'll blow your mind, dude." Hopefully.

Nick: Nick thought about all the things Jeff listed for him. Video games were fun but not exactly relaxing, and rock climbing was probably a little too close to working out to be considered relaxing for him. He never considered himself artistic to do any painting but that sounded like it could be fun. It really touched him that Jeff was trying so hard to figure out what could be Nick's new thing. "I totally feel you on the mental thing, man," Nick agreed, "I can't just be out partying all of the time because sooner or later I'll burn out, you know what I mean?" He perked up and looked at Jeff with curiosity when told to put his shoes back on but he trusted Jeff. He knew that Jeff would never lead him astray or make him do something he didn't want to do. So he listened and did exactly as he was told, excited for where this day was about to take him. "Alright, dude, adventure time?" he said, grinning from ear to ear as he followed Jeff's lead.

Jeff: "Yeah, I know what you mean." He offered him a small smile. Nick was always partying, whether it be for the show or in his downtime. When he used to party himself, he'd come home mentally drained almost every time. He couldn't imagine how someone could do that full-time, but Nick was different. He was fun and lighthearted and literally a bro to everybody. It was hard to picture him when he was feeling down, even now when he was telling Jeff it got to him. He didn't want his friend to feel like that, so he was going to try to distract him for at least a little while. "Adventure time." He confirmed proudly and stood up himself and walked over to the side of room to slip his own shoes on and grab his phone, wallet, and keys. "We live in one of the coolest cities ever, why not explore it? This day is yours, dude, we can go anywhere you want to."

Nick: "Anywhere?" Nick asked with a chuckle, thinking about all the places he usually visited. He knew he needed more variety in the places he liked to go to because all that popped into his head were different bars and clubs. Taking in another deep breath of air, the strong chocolately scent filling his nostrils, this time his stomach growled. "Ice cream," the words left his lips and then his mouth filled with saliva as he thought about the snack. "Or donuts." His stomach growled again, this time louder, and he laughed. "Can eating be my relaxing thing?" Nick joked.

Jeff: "Anywhere." He confirmed with a nod of his head. "Um, of course it can. Just look at Guy Fieri. His hobby is food too and he's killin' it." Jeff joked back, but was also sort of serious. "There's this ice cream place a couple blocks away. I say we check it out, then go from there." He made sure he had everything he needed and faced Nick completely. "You up for that?"

Nick: Nick had an excited sparkle in his eyes when Jeff affirmed that eating was a valid hobby. "Man, I could argue the only thing I love doing more than partying is eating good food, you know what I mean? Like, sometimes food is, like..." he gestured with his hands broadly as he tried to come up with the right word. "... healing, y'know?" He nodded eagerly at the decision for the both of them to go get ice cream, all ready and set to head out. "I'm so up for some ice cream, bro."

Jeff: “We’re gonna get you some food, then.” Jeff said decisively before nodding towards his door and walking towards it, silently urging Nick to follow. It made him happy that he found something that seemed to excite him. Jeff couldn’t blame him that it was over food. Food excited him from time to time, too. “Is that where the term Comfort Food comes from?” He thought out loud as they headed out. “We could have also partied if that’s what you wanted to do.” He offered lightly. “But I’m into this ice cream idea. We’ll have way less accidents than the whole Yoga thing.”

Nick: "Yo, I never even thought about that!" Nick exclaimed regarding Jeff's 'comfort food' comment. "But yeah, sometimes all food is comfort food. And sometimes I give a shit about eating healthy... I just wanna eat what I wanna eat. Right now I wanna get some ice cream into my belly." With a laugh, he followed Jeff out of the house and they headed down towards the ice cream place. "But dude, we gotta do the yoga thing another time. I won't let you down, Brofessor Jeff. I promise I'll get better at the balance and yoga thing. When I nail the yoga-ing, then we can celebrate with some partying!"

Jeff: "You know what, you're allowed to treat yourself. Why not, right? Eating healthy can wait 'til tomorrow." They began to walk, and while Jeff could have offered to drive, he thought against it. It was nicer anyway, and besides, this way they'd just end up wherever their feet took them. It'd be more of an adventure that way. "For sure. We'll definitely have to celebrate your graduation from Brofessor Jeff's School of Yoga. Or, you know, if you don't like that we'll just have to party because we got some good ice cream. That works too." He spoke as they rounded the block. "It's been awhile since I've partied Nick-style. I think I'm starting to forget what it's like. Scary, right?" He joked as they continued on.

Nick: Nick nodded with determination when was told that they could eat healthy tomorrow. It wasn't often he treated himself to unhealthy foods and today was one of those exceptions where he just didn't care about what went into his gut. It was a beautiful day in LA and Nick was going to make sure he and Jeff both enjoyed themselves to the fullest. "We'll get you to a kick-ass party soon, dude. I found some pretty awesome places on my quest for the perfect club and there are some that play some awesome tunes, too! We can also both go somewhere totally new to either of us and that'll like, but its own adventure on its own, you know what I mean?"

Jeff: Jeff ate relatively healthy himself, but he liked food as much as the next guy. So the prospect of having a cheat day was as appealing as their Yoga day was. “Yeah? I’d be down for checking some of those places out soon. You got me at awesome tunes.” It’d been awhile since he had last partied, and while he made sure he didn’t go too crazy on the drinks, making public appearances were something his manager strongly encouraged. Plus, Nick always made it more fun with his attitude, so that was always a plus. “Do clubs ever offer you free entrance to come check them out? I feel like you’re kind of a big deal for clubs and bars.” He asked, curious as they neared their destination, and opened the door to let Nick in first. “I’m always up for trying something new. Who knows where we’ll end up, man? I’m glad you’re doing this with me. You’re totally gonna be my go to Adventure Dude. While you’re on hiatus and have the time, at least.”

Nick: “Oh yeah,” Nick answered the question with a slight scrunch to his brows. “Before, when I was a nobody, sometimes I couldn’t even get my ass in a bar but now that I’ve done the show sometimes I’ll get, like, VIP invites and stuff.” He nodded and his eyes lit up at all the different flavors listed at the ice cream shop. “Dude, you know if you wanna party, next time I get the heads up for some killer event, we can totes go together. The world needs to know about the Niff Squad! Everybody in the club would be so psyched to see you show up!” Thinking more and more about this future hangout together was getting Nick excited all over again. “I got a pretty open schedule for a while... they told me they wouldn’t call me back ‘til next summer but who knows, right?”

Jeff: "Now that everyone knows you, I bet they're beating themselves up for not letting you in. You’re basically almost a club promoter now. I have no idea what it is they do, though.” He commented as he observed the flavors himself once they stepped inside. “I’d be happy to make an appearance. They won’t know what hit ‘em when Niff shows up. You’d hype them up so hard they’d have to be psyched to see me.” Nick was good at that --- he made things and people seem way better or cooler than they actually were. It got everyone he was around excited, for sure. “Next summer? That’s forever! But I guess that’s a good thing, right? Getting an extended break.” He smiled at the clerk behind the counter and order two scoops of the most chocolate-looking ice cream he could find, before looking to Nick so he could choose his. “It’s on me, dude. I almost killed you with Yoga so it’s only right.”

Nick: Nick wasn’t sure what a club promoter did either or what he did constituted as such. “Dude, I dunno... sometimes the clubs let me in for free but then sometimes they pay me to promote their club. Like, one club paid me a bunch to tweet about them and pose for some pictures but it wasn’t like I was rollin’ in the dough, you know what I mean? I got more from the show but I ain’t lookin’ to be greedy with the green— I just wanna have a good time.” When they stepped closer to the counter, Nick’s eyes went as wide as saucers as he watched the worker behind the counter scooping together an ice cream named Triple Fudge Chocolate Brownie Supreme. He didn’t know what was in it that made it supreme but it sure sounded and looked delicious. “Yo, that chocolate, bro,” he said, pointing at the chocolate ice cream that had been prepared for Jeff. “That looks like it’ll give me a chocolate coma when I’m done eating it!” He laughed. While the clerk scooped together another ice cream cone, Nick turned to look at Jeff. “Dude, you didn’t have to get it. I’ll definitely hit you back... Drinks are on me when we party together, alright?” The clerk handed him his ice cream cone and Nick decided to take a huge bite out of the top scoop instead of doing the normal thing and simply licking it. “Ohhh, dude...” he laughed again, mouth half-full with chocolate ice cream as he nodded. “This was the best idea we’ve had yet!”(edited)

Jeff: “You’re pretty much a spokesperson for cool things, then. I think you’re way more of a rockstar than I am, hands down.” Sure, it wasn’t like, what most people would consider a conventional career. But really, no career in the public eye was conventional, and the partying seemed to make Nick happy. Jeff was glad he found a thing he liked doing, even if Nick did say it left him drained sometimes.  “Hey, dude, if this is gonna be our wild cheat day --- why not get the Chocolate Coma Explosion?” He said in a serious tone as the ice cream was scooped for both of them. “Nah, don’t worry, but if you insist on the drinks, I won’t say no.” He wasn’t much of a drinker these days, but when he was dragged out to party, he didn’t mind having a few. Jeff pulled out his wallet to pay for the ice cream before tucking it back in safely and grabbing his own cone with one hand. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nick chomp into his, and tried to fight back his smile. The fact that his friend was so over the top goofy at times was endearing, and it was relaxing to be around ‘cause Nick didn’t judge him for being over the top either. “I honestly think it might be. I haven’t had ice cream in like --- eighty years.” He licked the bottom of the cone so it wouldn’t drip down onto his hand, and jerked his head towards the door. “Wanna stay here or continue on? Who knows, could end up finding even more junk to consume. Go big or go home, you know?”

Nick: Nick knew that Jeff wasn't as much of the partying-type like himself; he wouldn't force him to drink if he didn't want to but for Nick, drinking always seemed to make parties a bit more fun. He liked to respect everyone's-- especially Jeff's-- personal relationship with alcohol and wasn't going to push. "Well, if we get anymore food then I'll fork over the dough for it, 'kay?" he asked, taking a handful of napkins from the counter, already desperately needing it for the chocolate around his mouth. "We definitely gotta go big, dude. Like, first ice cream and then donuts or pizza or, like, just whatever sounds good, y'know?" He motioned for them to take their ice cream to go just as Jeff had also gestured. Thankfully another patron opened the door for them as they were leaving, so Nick wouldn't have to get his chocolate hands all over everything. When they were back outside, Nick started walking in no particularly decisive direction. They were in the middle of the city and odds were that if they kept walking, they were sure to run into something interesting or tasty. "Life advice, bro? Always go big. Because, like, if you want to win anything-- a race, your self, your life-- you have to go a little berserk... you know what I mean?"

Jeff: “If we end up finding anything equally as bad for us, sure.” He grinned and took a bite from the side, not nearly as large as Nicks but big enough to be greeted with an onslaught of chocolate. “Or one of those weird things, like a cheeseburger but instead of buns it’s donuts.” He suggested, before his face scrunched in slight disgust. “Or, okay, maybe not that. But yes to the other things.” Jeff was thankful for the random passerby opening the door for them, otherwise he would have had to open it with his back and shoulder and he always got weird looks when he did that. “I believe it. I know it’s your life’s motto and it’s been working pretty well for you so far. You’re a pretty hard core dude. Right now though all I wanna win is more ice cream. And maybe a pizza. I also wouldn’t say no to winning the lottery.” He took another bite as they walked along. Jeff was more of a go with the flow type of person, but he appreciated Nick’s philosophy nonetheless. In the distance, he noticed a few people staring in their direction, fairly obviously. He smiled at them briefly before turning his attention back to Nick.  “Uh, dude. Either we’re lookin’ real good today, or we’ve been recognized.”

Nick: Nick had made pretty good work with his ice cream, it already more than half gone and they'd just barely left the ice cream shop. He made an interested noise when Jeff proposed finding a cheeseburger consisting of donuts; it sounded like something he would at least try once even if it wasn't yummy. "You know I'll eat pretty much anything, bro," Nick said, thinking about how a cheesy, oily pizza would compliment this chocolate ice cream really well right now. "I could totally go for getting pizza and winning the lottery, though."  Looking up when Jeff mentioned being recognized, he looked in the direction of the staring people and shot them a wink and a single finger-pistol. "Uh, dude, it's obviously both. We look sharp-- ay eff-- and there's no foolin' anyone when Niff Squad is on the run." After Nick had acknowledged the people, it seemed they thought it was okay to come over and approach them. "Um, I don't mean to bother you both-- oh my god, I'm such a huge fan of you, Jeff, and I watch your show all of the time, Nick--" one of the girls that had approached them was speaking a mile a minute and she looked nearly overwhelmed just from this interaction. "Can I, um, can I please have a picture with you two? My brother would die if I met you and didn't get a picture!" Nick exchanged a look with Jeff... being recognized always boosted his already inflated ego. "How about it, dude? Niff squad selfie for the pretty peoples?" he asked, wiping the remaining chocolate off from around his mouth so he'd look picture perfect.

Jeff: Jeff was an active guy; he ate healthy and worked out on a regular basis. Which is why he didn't feel one shred of guilt over demolishing his ice cream and still thinking about more food. "I don't know if we'll be able to win the lottery today, but we should be able to hunt down a pizza somewhere in LA." He was a little slower to finish his ice cream, still with half a cone left when they saw the small group. Jeff laughed as Nick played it up for the people, and in turn Jeff waggled his eyebrows and lifted a hand to wave. "You might be right. Or we just have chocolate all over our faces." He teased, before the girls decided to walk over. This wasn't the first time either of them have been approached by strangers, but it was still so weird to Jeff that he was actually recognized right off the bat. Nick, he understood having so many fans. He was practically a meme, so everyone knew his face.  But having people recognize him too always flattered him. Jeff couldn't help but smile at the earnestness, and turned his head to exchange looks with Nick, offering him a subtle nod. "I think the lady means she wants me to take a picture of you two." He joked, dumping the rest of his ice cream in the nearby trash (as sad as that was, he didn't want to talk to the fans with sticky fingers). "But I like my selfies as much as the next dude." He moved around to stand beside the fan and motioned Nick over to the other side. "Okay, let's do this! Nick, we have an honorary member of the Niff Squad now. Does that mean we have to rename ourselves?"

Nick: Nick loved all of the attention and having people want to take pictures of him and with him. "Yeah, make sure you tag us when you upload this pic and hashtag us 'Niff Squad'!" He laughed, posing to take pictures with the girl who was fangirling over them. Unlike Jeff, Nick didn't get rid of his ice cream and didn't care that this girl's pictures would have a half-eaten ice cream in them. "Yo, my boy Jeff is one of the coolest cats I know, we're like, best buds, you know what I mean? And, plus, he's like the most talented musician that I've ever heard," he told the girls who just seemed to nod along and listen. Nick was especially high energy when talking with fans and this was an opportunity to get Jeff some exposure, even if it was just to these two girls-- one of whom didn't even really engage in conversation with them-- either because she didn't know them or she was just too shy. "Niff Squad is open to any honorary members but we're the founders and gotta keep the name for future branding, y'know?" He insisted with a determined nod. "Hashtag-Niff-Squad."

Jeff: Jeff could tell Nick was getting even more enthusiastic than he already was over the attention. The girls were eating it up, too, and Jeff couldn't blame them. Nick's energy was always infectious, even if he was making Jeff the center of attention. He'd be embarrassed if it were anyone else talking him up, but it was Nick and Nick was just always the worlds nicest guy. And Jeff was used to his elaborate ways by now. "Don't listen to this guy --- he's just biased 'cause I got ice cream with him." Jeff laughed off any bashfulness, and his lips quirked into another smile. "Look at him, though." He raised a hand in Nick's direction, "What an icon. I'm glad you guys asked to get a picture because I've been dyin' for another selfie with this guy. You guys are a bonus, of course."  The first girl seemed excited, but the other one seemed just along for the ride. Jeff wasn't offended, though. The first girl looked like this was one of the best days ever. Jeff stood next to the excited girl and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and waved Nick in closer so they could all get in the angle. He smiled big as the girl lifted her phone up to get ready to snap a series of pictures. "Is that what we're going with, for sure? What about Niffocalypse? NiffNation? Nifftackular?" He named off the first things off the top of his head, glancing down to see the fan smiling from ear to ear. "We should post a poll to see what everyone thinks."

Nick: Nick got in close, all buddy-buddy, posing with his best friend and the girl who was excited to meet them. If he had all the time in the world he would snap pictures all day with whoever wanted them. He waved off Jeff's praise and blew a raspberry with his lips, chuckling. "Oh, c'mon, bro, you are so much cooler than me," he said, adamant on that fact. “Like, you literally got me ice cream and it tastes amazing!” He half-sang the last word, finishing off his ice cream before throwing away the waste. The girls giggled at Nick’s antics and his rapport with Jeff. “You two seem so close!” Nick nodded. “Uh, understatement of the century, girl! Jeff here is my BBF— best bud forever!” Turning back to Jeff at the mention of a poll, he immediately whipped out his phone and tweeted it out, listing all the names Jeff had come up with. “We’ll let the people decide, then! Surely they won’t steer us wrong, right?”

Jeff: Jeff let out another loud laugh at Nick's antics. "It's not like I made the ice-cream. But you're welcome." The girls seemed amused by Nick, and Jeff was glad that they'd run into them, because it was fun hanging out with fans when they were cool like this. And Nick was having fun with it too, so it was a cool moment. Jeff nodded along with the sentiment, because as goofy as they got sometimes, Nick really was his best friend. "He's right, we've got friendship bracelets and everything." Okay, so that wasn't really accurate, but Jeff vaguely remembered finding some girls hair tie in the floor of a bar one night long ago and sticking it on Nick's wrist like it was a present. Perhaps not his most creative moment. After a few selfies with the fan, Jeff stepped away in order to look over Nick's shoulder nosily. "Nick, they'll definitely steer us wrong. But I say we do it anyway." He was throwing caution to the wind. Nick was rubbing off on him. Jeff looked over to the girls still standing by them. "Any suggestions while we're doing this? Nifferoni? Niff---?" Jeff frowned in thought, and gently tapped Nick on the shoulder as he spoke. "Hey, why aren't we Jick? Or Neff? Or Stuval? Who decided on Niff, was that me or you?"

Nick: Nick smiled and chatted animatedly, nodding his head as he continued to talk Jeff up. It was all the truth and Nick meant every word, grinning from ear to ear at this interaction. The girls that were talking to them seemed thrilled that they were talking up so much time just to speak with them. "Dude, if we legit got friendship bracelets I would cherish the fuck out of it and wear it all of the time," he said with a serious expression on his face.  As Nick tweeted out the poll about their proposed hashtag names, the thought of their supposed ship/duo name hadn't even occurred to him. Who exactly was it that got to decide this fact? It was probably some self-righteous writer of some cheesy fan blog somewhere on the Internet and it just happened to catch on. "'Stuval' sounds way more dignified than 'Niff', man,"  Nick said out loud as he thought about all the different possible ship names. He honestly couldn't even remember if it was either of them that thought the name up. "I have no idea, bro. It's a good thing you thought of that because after we trademark that shit, there's no going back, you know what I mean?"

Jeff: No one he’d ever met in his life talked him up as much as Nick did, and while Nick was just naturally an excited and exuberant guy, Jeff knew he was also being genuine. “Next time I’m sucked into doing arts in crafts, I’ll totally make you one, bro.” Jeff nodded, also with a serious expression. “Maybe too dignified.” He agreed with a nod. “Well yes it’s a big deal. This is a name that could be on our future merch.” He joked. “Honestly, though, no matter what they pick, I still like Niff the best though. We’ve been calling ourselves that for too long for it not to stick.”

Nick: Nick nodded in agreement. "Definitely, bro. No matter what the media or the fans label us, we'll be Niff forever." They waved the girls goodbye as they went about their way, both men headed in the direction they were originally walking before they were stopped. "I mean, like, we've known each other for what, two years already? Man, you're like my best bro and even if you become super famous and go away to live somewhere crazy like, I dunno-- Finland... You'd still my best bro, you know what I mean?" Nick said, trying to properly emphasize himself using what vocabulary he knew.

Jeff: “Why does Niff Forever sound like the title of an action movie?” He joked, waving the girls goodbye with a large grin. “Finland, huh? While that sounds like a cool experience, I think I’m good where I’m at here. I’ve got family and friends. I’ve got you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Jeff looked over at Nick, understanding what he was trying to say. “Yeah, dude, I know what you mean.” He was trying to be more upfront with the people he cared about lately, but Jeff didn’t want to make the moment too cheesy by professing his undying friendship either. So he just gently nudged his arm with his and grinned, not for the first time that day. “Alright. Come on. I promised you a super chill slash cheat day and we’ve only even scratched the surface. I say we should hit up a pizza joint and any other greasy food eateries and take it all back to my place. Think anyone else will recognize us on the way?”

Nick: Nick laughed at Jeff's joke, the title in bright, bold, flashy letters popping out to him in his head with the two of them in cool action poses for the movie poster. "It totally sounds like the title to the last movie of our action movie saga," he agreed. He was glad to hear that Jeff had no intentions of leaving because Nick wouldn't even know what he would do if Jeff went away somewhere. It felt like they had been Nick and Jeff for such a long time, he couldn't even remember much of what it was like before he'd befriended Jeff. Not having much words to agree on the matter either, thinking Jeff had summed it up really well, Nick just nudged him right back with a goofy grin. "Pizza, yessss," Nick half-spoke, half-groaned as he thought about the cheese and oily pepperoni hitting his taste buds. "I need me some pizza pie in mah belly. Right. Now." Nick began looking around as they walked down the street, wanting to go to the first pizza place within view. "I don't doubt it, dude. We're both in LA and that girl was just one in millions just waiting to see Niff in the flesh." In addition to looking for a pizza joint, he also kept an eye out for any other people that might be staring or even following them. "I think more people will recognize you, though, because you're like, you're totally booming in the music industry now, y'know? And, and," he jumped once or twice as he walked, "People will probably totally bug you to get, like, backstage passes to your shows and stuff."

Jeff: “We’ll have to file that one away for future reference, then.” Jeff was at a point in his life where he was feeling good where he was at. When he was a little younger, he was set to move just about anywhere regardless of the consequences. But now it was different; it felt like his life was coming together again here in LA. And more than that, Nick was his favorite person. He made everything seem better than it actually was just by being around, Jeff didn’t want to imagine what it’d feel like if he wasn’t there. Nicks groaning over the pizza made him laugh and nod along in agreement. “Okay then let’s do it, I don’t want you to starve. Or me. I only got to eat half of my ice cream because I was dumb and threw it away, so now I’m like, super hungry.” Jeff didn’t actually think they’d run into more fans, because when they were just hanging out like this, it didn’t feel like when he was hanging out with other people who were in the spotlight. It was just him and Nick, not some reality star and musician. It never occurred to him that they’d be spotted until it actually happened. Seeing Nick bounce up and down made his smile grow; Nick was nothing if not exuberant.  “Yeah, right. I don’t think you realize how well known you are. Your face is all over the internet, and everyone knows you’re this super cool party dude. I’m just your lanky musician friend who’s always tagging along.” Jeff had his own following, sure, but in his eyes Nick was just more memorable with his friendly brodude attitude and funny sayings. “You know that has happened, and I almost want to. But then I get annoyed, you know? Because that comes out of my own pocket. Then I just look like the bad guy for saying no.” He paused his small rant as they got further into the city and neared more shops, the scent of several types of foods hitting his nose at once. “We’re close. I know there’s this place somewhere ahead. I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry I could start runnin’ for it.”

Nick: Nick didn't figure anyone else might recognize him; it was one thing to be recognized whenever he was at a club but another to be recognized off the street. Maybe because he was with Jeff and he felt like he could actually breathe and just be himself, he was less in the reality TV mindset and more about just being a regular guy hanging out with his best friend in the middle of LA. But what Jeff was saying was true... He was more in the public eye than he had ever been and it was sometimes a bother when it showed its face in his non-partying life. "Luckily people only like, swarm me and ask me about shit when I'm out at clubs and stuff, you know what I mean? I haven't really had anyone really bother me in the daytime." He shrugged then, not giving it much thought. When Jeff explained his past experiences with people egging him on for free stuff, he shook his head with disapproval. "Just because people see us IRL doesn't mean they can just ask for free shit-- Man, who do they think they are?" At the mention of more food, Nick's stomach grumbled and then it practically roared when the aroma of foods wafted around him. "Oh, man, I could totally go for all the foods right now. I want, like, a smorgasbord of every food right here, right now."

Jeff: Making it big and being known everywhere was something that sounded better than it actually was. Still, Jeff wasn’t going to complain about how lucky he was to actually get his music out there. And he was sure Nick liked a lot of the aspects of being well known, too. It was just a lot for anyone to deal with 24/7. “That sucks, though, because that’s when you’re trying to have fun.” He cast a sympathetic glance at Nick. “You know... this is awful, but you could always pretend to be too drunk to understand what they’re saying.” He suggested, and almost felt bad about it, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. “They just don’t know better, I think.” It doesn’t make it any less wrong, but when he took a step back and thought about it, it helped Jeff not get as annoyed in the future. “Can we do that?” His stomach and workout regimen would hate him tomorrow, but today he couldn’t care less. “Like...everything? All at once?” His eyes widened as he thought of the possibilities. “We should have brought someone along who can say no to our ideas, because neither one of us know how to do that.” He said seriously before grabbing onto Nick’s sleeve and tugging gently to alert him as a pizza place came into view. “I’d apologize for making this National Fatten Niff Up Day, but... I’m kind of excited, dude.”

Nick: “Sometimes it’s cool though, because people will buy me drinks just to party with me,” Nick laughed, finding it almost funny that anyone would actually pay money to hang out with him because when he was at the club he felt he couldn’t be in a friendlier mood. Even with his celebrity status now, Nick always just wanted to have a good time whenever he was letting loose at the club. “I totally could pretend like I don’t even know what they’re saying and just mumble stuff at them! People are dumb anyways and they’d believe it!” He snickered at the idea of tricking people into thinking he was too drunk so he wouldn’t have to engage them; it was a good idea and he might actually give it a try the next time he didn’t want to deal with people. Nick looked in the direction Jeff was showing him, getting excited at the prospect of pizza getting into his stomach very soon. There was a little skip to his step as he quickened his pace, making a beeline for the pizza place. “Bro, we should just totally christen today as National Fatten Niff Up Day and we’ll totally do this every year!” He said, the excitement obvious in his voice as he linked an arm with Jeff’s and pulled him along into the pizza place. Luckily it didn’t seem busy and they could go right up to the counter. “Garçon! What is your best pizza on the menu?” His stomach growled as the gooey cheesy smells invaded his nostrils and he was wondering to himself if he should get just a slice or a whole pie. They might get other foods after this, after all. “Dude, what should we get?” Nick turned to ask Jeff, looking to him for advice.

Jeff: "I can't say I blame them, I used to buy you drinks so I could party with you all the time. You're a fun guy to be around." Nick was fun to be around when he was sober, but truthfully, Jeff wasn't sure if a lot of his fans knew that side to him. "You could! Think of it as fine tuning your acting skills. Plus it'll give you time to yourself to just live." Having time to yourself away from the fame was necessary in order to keep your sanity; Jeff had learned that the hard way once upon a time. Jeff quickened his pace the second Nick did. He had no doubt in his mind that he'd be on board for it, but still, Jeff's excitement grew as the other man agreed. "Seriously --- can we do that? Obviously not everyone in the world will celebrate it, but I'll put it on my calendar and everything. Make it Niff official." Sure, some people scheduled cheat days once every week. But planning one huge feast with his best friend once a year? That seemed way cooler. Jeff let himself be pulled into the pizza place, and immediately was assaulted with the smell of cheese and sauce and grease.  He heard the guy working behind the counter laugh and answer Nick's question, but Jeff was too busy thinking about what to get to pay much attention. "How about... one large? And have them split it up into different sections. One fourth vegetable, because we need to be somewhat healthy. One fourth meat, because meat, duh. One fourth cheese. One fourth pepperoni? That way we get the best of all worlds." Jeff squinted at the menu and then looked back at Nick. "Is that too much?"

Nick: “Yeah, but you never needed to buy me drinks, dude. You’re like, the coolest guy to ever party with,” Nick told Jeff, grinning ear to ear. “And like, whenever we hang out I never have to... pretend, you know what I mean? I never gotta worry about what you think ‘bout me or what I’m acting like ‘cause we’re cool, y’know?” He hoped that the other man would understand where he was coming from but he could tell just from looking at him and grinning that he did. “One large pizza,” Nick repeated back to the guy behind the counter, pointing at him. “Exactly how my bro described with the fourths and getting a sample of all the awesome deliciousness.” Jeff was really smart and Nick continued to believe so; he had the best ideas and Nick never would’ve even thought about that. He probably would’ve just bought four separate pizzas without even thinking. Then that definitely would’ve been way too much. “That’s like, the perfect amount of pizza between the two of us, man. And that leaves room for a second dessert or something for when we’re done!”

Jeff: Nick’s compliment made him grin, although Jeff thought that Nick calling him was the coolest dude ever was a stretch. Jeff was, like, reasonably cool. “I’d hope you weren’t pretending around me. We’ll still be bros no matter what, you know?” He said before getting distracted by the pizza. Nick and him seemed to have the most casual heart to hearts, but it didn’t make it any less true. Nick was always there for him, after all, so he hoped he knew that Jeff would do the same for him. Jeff nodded along with the order. It was a little complicated, and he hoped they weren’t pissing the employees off by ordering four pizzas in one. But the idea sounded too appealing not to try, so he wanted to go for it anyway. “Yes. Like donuts — or cake. I won’t lie to you though, I kinda want more ice cream.” His grin turned sheepish. “I’m still not over me throwing mine away like an idiot.”

Nick: Even with the order being a bit complicated, it was definitely doable and this time Nick was determined to foot the bill after Jeff had so generously covered the ice cream. “Dude, after we get this, we should totally pick up like, a gallon of ice cream to take back to your place! We can totally pig out on pizza and ice cream and if we wanna get anything else, we’ll just call go deliver of get us some Uber Eats, y’know?” Nick pulled out his wallet to pay for the pizza, award they had to wait for it to cook before they could take it home. “In fact, bro— it’ll take a good twenty before we can even start on the pizza so let’s go get some ice cream now and then on the flip side we can pick the pie up before getting back to your place, know what I mean?” Thinking about ice cream again had Nick thinking about what he had missed out on with his first dessert: sprinkles. “We gotta get like, loads of sprinkles and chocolates and— oh, dude nuts and cherries! We can totally make an awesome sundae tower!”

Jeff: “I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. You. Are a genius. I love that idea.” Jeff exclaimed enthusiastically as the guy behind the counter took their order, with some confusion on his face, probably at their excitement moreso than the actual order. He noticed Nick take out his wallet and nearly stopped him because it felt weird whenever anyone bought his stuff, but let it go because he did buy the ice cream earlier. And would probably be buying more ice cream later on, as it looked. “Wow. Okay. Yes. And caramel and that chocolate sauce that makes a hard coating around the ice cream.” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “Alright, dude. Lets go.” He stepped away from the counter, suddenly eager. He liked his ice cream sundaes and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. “Then we can just hang out at my place. They just added a bunch of stuff on Netflix. I don’t know about you but now I just wanna eat and be lazy.”

Nick: Nick nodded enthusiastically, the idea of lazing around and eating food at Jeff’s place sounding more and more appealing by the moment. After paying for the order and letting the guy behind the counter know they’d be back for their pizza in a bit, Nick all but dashed out the door with Jeff in tow. “Dude, we should get, like, a bunch of different flavors. Because I love that hard-chocolate-shell stuff on vanilla but caramel tastes amazing with pecan ice cream and whoa— just imagine all the different flavor possibilities? Like, talk about flavor explosion, you know what I mean?” He said, talking a mile a minute. He hadn’t even realized that with all of his talking and getting excited about ice cream, he was all turned around and didn’t know which direction they were supposed to be going in. “Dude, where are we even? You gotta lead the way ‘cause all that’s on my brain is ice cream and pizza right now.”

Jeff: As they headed out the door without a second thought, Jeff allowed himself to think out loud. "Caramel and pecan sounds so good, dude. Or if I get chocolate ice cream, and graham crackers, and mini marshmallows --- with the hard chocolate stuff? Ice cream smores, man." Of course, the second they actually attempted this, they may decide it's too sweet to actually eat. But the thought alone is fun, so Jeff is all for it. "Flavor Explosion should just be the name of an ice cream bar. Where they have all the toppings for you to pile on. You know, like a frozen yogurt shop only not as healthy." He was excited for the ice cream, but Nick seemed even more excited. They were going to end up with way too many sweets, Jeff knew already, but he didn't have it in him to be an adult about the situation. They didn't do this often, so he was going to enjoy it. "Uh. Yeah, okay. I got this." He looked at the street signs ahead and mentally calculated how far the nearest store would be. He'd grown up in LA, so while he liked to pretend he was just aimlessly walking around sometimes, he still remembered where most things were at. Or the general direction they were located in, at least. "We're about a block away from a store. I go there a lot, so I can guarantee they've got what they need." He offered Nick a friendly grin and waved his arm in front of him before continuing on. "Just follow me, I'll make sure we don't get lost. I'll be your human Google Maps for the day."

Nick: Nick pointed at Jeff as he listened to his ice cream bar idea with the toppings. "Dude, when we're super famous and rich, that should be, like, a thing we actually do! Y'know how celebrities are always either opening restaurants or cosmetics lines to further their success? Bro, we should open up an ice cream bar with all the toppings and it'll be uh-mazing because first, duh, Niff would be running it, and two, you're a freakin' genius and celebrity icon!" He followed Jeff closely as they made their way to the store, making a mental list of all the sugary and chocolate-y goodness they would bring home with them. He trusted that Jeff would know the way and they could bring back a bounty of ice cream and toppings. "Man, I wish I had your sense of direction... I feel like half of the time I don't know where the heck I'm going when I'm walking around here but somehow all the Uber drivers know exactly where I need to go when I tell them."

Jeff: "Yeah, dude, and open it right across from Danny Trejo's Donut Shop. Not that I'd want to be his enemy or anything, but he might stop by and come into our shop. And if Machete himself buys ice cream from our ice cream shop --- that'd be pretty cool." Nick and him seemed to have a lot of ideas, and if they bothered to follow through on even 1/3 of them, they'd probably be, like, shark tank rich. He slowed down some so Nick could follow along, knowing his friend tended to get distracted easily, but not minding in the slightest. "It's just something you get used to after awhile. I grew up around here, some things stick. My Dad didn't believe in free rides, so by the time I was thirteen, I had to walk just about anywhere." His family were serious about making sure their kids be self sufficient. "If you ever get super lost, Uber is amazing. Or you could have me come out instead." He grinned and shrugged as they turned the corner, the small store now in sight. "Alright, dude. You grab the toppings, I'll grab the ice cream?" Jeff suggested as he pulled open the door, waiting for Nick to follow suit.

Nick: "Oh, man, the Machete getting ice cream from our shop? Damn, that's a story I'd never get tired of tellin' at parties and stuff, y'know?" Nick laughed excitedly at the idea. It was almost tempting enough that he'd derail his entire movie idea just to open up said shop with his friend, but they had so many ideas in a single day alone that it all couldn't be done. Nick admired Jeff's independence; it was something he didn't have much of himself since he always relied on his parents for money. It was almost like the independence Nick had for himself wasn't really real-- at least not like the kind Jeff had. "Your dad sounds like a hard-ass but damn if it didn't make you know your way around... Maybe I should, like, just spend the day in LA without my phone and just figure out which street is which," he mused aloud. When they arrived at the store and Nick was given instructions to grab the toppings, he gave a determined nod of the head and moved to grab one of the shopping baskets to fill. He was going to get nuts, marshmallows, cherries, bananas, caramel, and the fancy chocolate fudge that hardened when you poured it out. He made sure to get two of everything-- just in case one wasn't enough for the two of them. In the end, it felt like he had almost too much in his basket but Nick figured you couldn't have too much of a good thing and these things were good.

Jeff: "Right, once you reach that level of awesome, there's really no topping that." You'd think that being in the public eye would stop one from feeling like a fanboy at the prospect of meeting celebrities, but nope. Not a thing. "That's saying something, but the crazy old man's methods did work. I mean, he's insane, but he's smart. Just don't tell anyone I said that." He joked, but God forbid that actually get back to his Father. They were both on speaking terms, sure, but that didn't mean they were ready to have any Full House moments just yet. The whole "turn them loose and see if they'll sink or swim thing"  isn't necessarily a parenting style Jeff agreed with, but it helped him shape up real fast. And it was in the past, he couldn't be bitter about it forever. He was trying to learn to let old things go. "You're fine, you know. You know your way around fine, if you ask me. But you could if you really wanted to. Just be careful and stay where crowds of people are." He said in concern without thinking, not that he didn't think that Nick wouldn't be okay, just an unnecessary bout of worry. He knew Nick could take care of himself, but still. He couldn’t help it. "You know, so all your adoring fans can keep you company." He smiled at him teasingly before they entered the shop.Jeff headed straight towards the ice cream, making sure to pick up the Pecan Ice Cream for Nick first before deciding on some Chocolate Fudge Brownie one for himself. Then, on a whim, he picked up two more flavors at random and tossed them into the basket. This was going to be way too much, and he knew it in his brain. But his heart was saying yes.  He juggled them in his arms for a moment, nearly giving himself frostbite, before some store clerk took pity on him and pushed him over a basket. Smiling gratefully at them, he unceremoniously dumped the cartons of ice cream into the cart and set off to find Nick. He didn't have to go far, before he rounded the corner and saw him with his own basket --- piled with nothing but various toppings. "The cashier is going to think we're hosting a birthday party or something." He greeted with a laugh, leaning his arms forward on his cart. "Jeez --- think we have enough?"

Nick: Nick grinned when he met back up with Jeff and his smile grew even wider when he saw the various cartons of ice cream that Jeff had picked out. “Awesome!” He cheered, doing a little fist bump with his friend as he scanned over their find. “Dude, this is technically National Fatten Niff Up Day So we’re definitely celebrating somethin’!” They pushed their carts over to the checkout lane but not before Nick spotted some waffle cones. “Bro,” Nick showed off his find before tossing it into the cart along with all their ice creams and toppings. When they made their way over to the cashier, the clerk eyed the two of them with caution and amazement, almost unsure if he should comment on the amount of sweets they were getting. “It’s National Fatten Niff Up Day, dude!” Nick supplied an explanation to the clerk, setting their things onto the conveyor belt one by one. “Um, and what is a ‘Niff’, sir?” The clerk asked. Nick’s jaw dropped in disbelief before he gestured between himself and Jeff. “We are a Niff, man! Don’t’cha check what’s trending?” He asked before pulling out his wallet.

Jeff: Nick's excitement was practically nonstop throughout the whole day, so it was contagious. No one else in the world would probably be down to get as much junk and binge it all with him, but Nick was always cool like that. He let out a loud laugh and fist bumped him, clearly agreeing. "Celebrating being lazy as hell and eating a bunch of food?" He asked, playfully, giving Nick's find an appreciative nod before they pushed their carts onward. Helping load everything on the belt, he wasn't even a little phased to hear Nick exclaim so loudly to the clerk.  Jeff glanced up at the both of them in clear amusement as he sectioned the ice cream and some of the toppings off so he could pay his half. "That's our ship name, like Brangelina. You know." Jeff tried to explain to the poor guy who wouldn't understand it, talking with his hands as he did so and waving one in the air as though that would help him gain clarity.  "It's an internet thing." He grinned and paid for his things as it became his turn. He lowered his voice in a stage whisper as he spoke to the cashier. "Personally, I think he coined it originally because his name is conveniently first, but that's borderline conspiracy theory territory." He continued to say jokingly so the guy wouldn't feel too awkward at the influx of Niff information. After saying thank you, he nudged Nick's shoulder gently and jerked his head towards the door. "And we're off. Pizza here we come.  I'd race you if our hands weren't full of bags."(edited)

Nick: Nick didn't get how some people just weren't aware of his and Jeff's presence in the world... He was under the impression they were both pretty well-known in each other's respective industries but clearly Nick needed to do more work getting themselves in the spotlight as a dynamic duo. "There's always a reason to celebrate and Niff is totally one of them!" he all but cheered with his exuberance shining through. He heard Jeff's whisper and chuckled, knowing that he was just joking around. He playfully elbowed him in his side, "Hey, hey, Niff is catchy and everyone knows you're the cooler one between us!" He grinned ear to ear and with all their goods now in plastic bags, they hauled them off towards the direction of the pizza shop. Of course, Nick let Jeff take the lead because he didn't want to accidentally lead them off into the wrong direction. "Dude, you'd win that race," he said, glancing down before laughing, "You're like, all legs and you do that yoga stuff so you're probably hella fit. Plus I don't think either of us wanna drop this ice cream and have it goin' everywhere."

Jeff: There were likely more people aware of them as a duo than Jeff fully realized. Sure, they had their sizeable fanbase online, but he just didn't fully realize the extent. So when Nick talked them up to people, trying to get their name out there, Jeff just figured it was him being Nick. But he always did think Nick had more of a grasp of the fanbase and what the people liked. "Dude, I'll always celebrate Niff." He half-heartedly dodged the elbow to his side with an easy grin and laughed. "Niff is catchy. I'm not doubting that. We're both cool,  okay? Just in way different ways." Jeff began to navigate the way back to the pizza shop, juggling the bags in both arms. "Hey, you never know until we try. It'd be a fair race. You're fit too, you might be one of those people who's a super athlete and doesn't know it. Not that I feel like testing that theory right now 'cause you'd beat me no matter what today, I'm too focused on food and not dropping it. But one day, dude --- be prepared for the Niff Olympics." He was joking, but honestly, that sounded like something they'd do. Jeff hiked the bags up in his arms as they continued on closer to the pizza place. "You know... It's a really good thing we're doing all this walking now, because later when we're in a food coma, we're going to be glad we at least exercised a little bit."

Nick: "Niff Olympics!" Nick parroted back but with ten times the volume and excitement. "Dude, that would make for an awesome YouTube video idea if we ever did that!" Imagining the two doing a bunch of different races and obstacle courses and challenges would not only be extremely fun for the both of them, but he was certain thousands if not millions of people would definitely want to watch something like that. "We can totally celebrate Fatten Niff Up Day today, because we're exercising now and the National Niff Olympics is officially in the works!" He laughed even though the joke sounded like a genuine idea for a future fun day. "Man, you come up with the best ideas... I gotta get my brain into high-gear if I wanna come up with some ideas, too! Ice cream can be considered a brain food, right?" he asked as they got back to the pizza place. "Or maybe at least pizza could be a brain food." With their grocery bags of ice creams and toppings, and now a large pizza to juggle, they were officially out of hands to get anymore food. But Nick knew it would be worth it when they made it back to Jeff's place and he was eating an ice cream feast out of a giant bowl. "Dude, I know this yoga day kinda took a turn for the weird with all this ice cream and pizza but we totally exercised with all this walking instead of Uber-ing around and we're all good, you know what I mean? There's always tomorrow, bro."

Jeff: Jeff had a feeling Nick would be a proud supporter of the Niff Olympics, and he had to agree. It kind of did sound really cool.  "Honestly, maybe we would be good YouTubers. We could totally do that and have randoms judge us so it's a fair contest and everything." Jeff grinned back at Nick and nodded seriously. "Ice cream is totally brain food, dude. And with how much we're gonna eat tonight night, our brains are going to get super huge. Like when regular people get poisoned with radioactivity and turn into superheroes." They finally reached the pizza place and Jeff stepped in for just a moment to grab the pie, precariously juggling it in one arms he walked back out to join Nick. "Weird, maybe, but I'm not complaining. I always do Yoga. I don't get to hang out with you and eat a bunch of trash food as often as I'd like." One of the bags nearly slipped from his hands, but with a quick fumble of all his limbs, he caught it and continued to walk as briskly as he could to his apartment so the ice cream wouldn't get melty. "True...One day, I'll show you Yoga for real. And make sure you don't fall. Unfortunately real Yoga involves way less handstands."

Nick: Doing YouTube videos was not only a completely valid way to gain or grow a following, collaborating videos together with Jeff sounded like a whole lot of fun. He already had an awesome time whenever he was hanging out with Jeff and they got into all sorts of shenanigans practically every time they hung out, it made sense to share that with the public. “We should totally plan some stunts and stuff for YouTube, man! I mean, like, obvs we wanna have our privacy too but it’d still be cool, you know what I mean?” Nick agreed with Jeff that even though this hadn’t been the most physically productive day, he couldn’t remember the last time he had so much fun that wasn’t alcohol-induced. This day had just been a day full of genuine fun with a guy he really liked. Another day doing this— or whatever it is they’ll end up getting themselves into— was absolutely in their future. “Bro, handstands or not, I totally wanna get schooled in the art of yoga and learn all I gotta know to be in the know... y’know? I mean, you just caught those bags while juggling the pizza and had that been me, man, I definitely woulda dropped it.” When they returned back to Jeff’s, Nick was determined to get the biggest bowl possible and fill it to the brim with ice cream, toppings, and fruit to make the most stupendous-looking sundae ever.

Jeff: “Okay...you’re right about the privacy thing. We barely get enough of that as is. Maybe we should wait awhile on the YouTube thing.”  He was having a lot of fun, and while they did run into a couple fans, it was a good experience. And he basically got to spend the whole day with Nick, so that was always a good day in his book. “Alright, then, next time you come over for Yoga we’ll get serious. Promise. You’ll be an official Yoga master. Trust me though, Yoga had nothing to do with that —just years of being clumsy and learning how to prevent bad messes. It’ll totally make you feel stronger though, when you find your balance and can hold it it’s just... awesome.” They finally arrived at Jeff’s place and he headed straight to his kitchen, setting down all of the items in relief. Without skipping a beat, he walked over to his cabinets and looked inside. “Alright, dude, we got two options. We can each make our own, or —“ He reached an arm up to reach back into the cabinet, pulling out a large mixing bowl. “Make one huge one and just share it. I will warn you though, I’m gonna add literally everything.”

Nick: Hearing Jeff promise that they would get back to the yoga one day soon put a smile on Nick's face and he nodded enthusiastically. It seemed like it really helped Jeff out and maybe it could help Nick too; he was always looking for something new to do and having an outlet that wasn't partying would be beneficial. While yoga might've not been what he needed, he knew it'd be relaxing or at least fun to try. "Bro, I totally wanna get into my inner-yoga peace, y'know? With you as my teacher, I'll learn it in no time!" Nick placed the bags down on the counter with an exaggerated exhale of air as he rolled his shoulders. Given the two very tempting options, Nick's eyes widened at the sight of the large mixing bowl. "Dude..." his mouth nearly filled with saliva as he imagined all the amazing ingredients together to make one mouth-watering bowl of deliciousness, "We gotta go with the huge ice cream with everything in it!" He started taking the things out of the bags so they could start adding them into the giant bowl.

Jeff: “Next time then, it’s happening.” Jeff spoke as he fished out his ice cream scoop and a handful of spoons. He set them and the bowl down on the counter as Nick agreed, and excitedly reached out to help Nick unload all the ice cream and toppings. “This is such a bad idea.” He said happily, with a small laugh as all the item were spread out in front of them. “I’m so excited. Okay, here we go.” He handed the scoop and a few spoons over to Nick and took a few spoons for himself. “Ready to just... scoop everything in there? Don’t hold back, man. Let’s make this thing insane.” He began taking the lids off the ice cream nearest to him, genuinely excited for this.

Nick: With a big toothy grin, Nick nodded. He was almost tempted to just empty the entire container of ice cream into the bowl but this amalgamation of flavors was almost an art form; it needed to be controlled yet-- as Jeff had properly put it-- insane. As the lids came off of the ice cream containers, Nick started scooping different flavors into the large bowl. "Hell no, this isn't a bad idea, man," Nick protested Jeff's opinion as he layered scoops of ice cream with some chocolate and caramel before returning back to topping another layer of ice cream. "I've said it before and I'll say it 'til I get to the grave, bro: you're a freakin' genius! Like, this is gonna put me in a food coma later but it'll be so worth it!"

Jeff: He watched as Nick carefully started layering the ice cream in the bowl, almost as though it were an art form. It didn't take him along to want to get in on the action, though, and soon he was pushing the ice cream tub towards Nick and reaching out for the toppings himself.  In between scoops of ice cream, Jeff would help sprinkle on some of each topping they'd picked out. They 100% without a doubt went overboard today, but Jeff was really happy to be here with his best friend. Even if they were building a Heart Attack Sundae. "It's your idea, too. We're both culinary geniuses here. Look at how beautiful it is." He grinned and grabbed two clean spoons off the counter, sliding one over to Nick. "You wanna do the honors and take the first bite?"

Nick: When their amazing ice cream sundae was topped and it seemed the bowl could barely hold anymore, Nick took a step back to marvel their creation. Jeff calling him a culinary genius almost made him feel smarter and he beamed. "Bro, I gotta snap a pic first," he told him, taking his phone out of his pocket and doing just that. Maybe if he remembered afterwards he would take an "after" photo but for now he would tweet out the pic and tag his best friend. "Hashtag: National Fatten Niff Up Day," he read aloud as he typed and tweeted, making sure to hit up all his social media handles.  He gladly took the offered spoon, eager to take the very first bite of their very large sundae. "You know me too well, dude!" Nick sunk his spoon as deep into the sundae as he could, scooping up as many different flavors and toppings into one huge bite.  Making an exaggerated chomping noise as he put the scoop of it all in his mouth, he made a pleased sound as the flavors hit his tongue. His eyebrows lifted higher than he ever thought possible and he nodded eagerly as he continued making noises, pointing to the sundae with his spoon. With his free hand, he gave his friend a thumbs up and urged him even with his mouth full of ice cream to take a taste for himself.

Jeff: Jeff was so eager to attack their creation that he didn’t even think to Instagram it. Nick, though, always the more internet-smart of the two, pulled out his phone just in time. “See, you have the best ideas too.” Jeff fished into his own pocket, deciding that snapping a picture of Nick taking a picture of their sundae would be excellent Insta material later on. He made sure to stand just a little in frame of Nick’s shot too, so the fans would know he was in on this too. Jeff laughed at the hashtag Nick added to the tweet. “Now everyone’s gonna blow up our phones wanting in on this. I almost feel bad we can’t share it. Almost.” But not quite. Jeff set his phone on the counter beside him and rose his eyebrow in expectancy as Nick took the first bite, eager for his reaction. The look on his face was priceless, and the subsequent moans had him grinning from ear to ear. “I take it it’s good?” He said fondly as Nick chewed the mouthful of ice cream. How he wasn’t getting brain freeze was beyond Jeff, and he was pretty sure Nick was super human. He’d always had his suspicions, he didn’t know anyone else with his energy. Except for maybe himself sometimes, but he blamed that on Nick’s influence. “Alright. You’re making it sound awesome. I’m gonna get in on this.” He grabbed his spoon and moved it around in the bowl, paying careful detail to make sure he had every topping like Nick did before piling it in his mouth. “Oh my gah.” He mumbled around the ice cream, trying to chew it too despite the cold. “Thish ish amazsching.” He knew talking with your mouth full was gross so he reached a hand up to cover his mouth. With his free hand, he dropped his spoon in the bowl so he could put the cartons of ice cream out away before they melted.Swallowing the sugary concoction, Jeff was finally able to speak as he closed his freezer door. “I’ve never been more happy for yoga to NOT work out. That might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted, hands down.” He turned back around to lift the bowl up with his hands, and motioned towards his living room with his head. “Grab your spoon. This thing is totally going to be gone in five minutes.”

Nick: "Almost," Nick shared Jeff's sentiment as he swallowed what was a rather large bite and licked his lips, savoring the taste. Shoveling bite after bite into his pie hole might've been something he'd do but Nick actually wanted to taste every last bite of the deliciousness they had created together.  "People'll see the pics we snapped and totes want the recipe to try and recreate this madness!" Nick laughed, grabbing his spoon and following Jeff's direction to head towards the living room. He managed to reach over and scoop another bite before the two of them plopped onto the couch together. Whether they ended up watching TV or doing whatever else, Nick didn't mind either way as long as he had more of the extremely sugary sundae all up in his mouth. "Bro, we could totally do, like, yoga and then ice cream for an after-broga treat, you know what I mean? Like, nothing insane like this but I think ice cream is a sweet incentive-- literally."

Jeff: "Then the recipe is what we'll give them. Take one bowl. Take everything sweet in your freezer and fridge --- mix and serve." Their followers would more than likely think that there were more people going to eat this than there actually were. If they knew it was only the two of them who were going to eat this, they'd probably get some judgement from health enthusiasts. Jeff carefully held the bowl in his arms as they plopped onto his couch. Instinctively, he kicked his shoes off below him so he could sit criss-crossed on the couch, carefully setting their ice cream beside them. "Don't tempt me, Nick. That sounds like fun. I'd be calling you over all the time for Yoga. We'd be having ice cream like every day." He laughed again and dipped his spoon in the bowl, scooping himself out a bite slightly smaller than the last. With the spoon hanging out of his mouth, Jeff leaned forwards to snatch the remote off the table in front of them and flick the TV on, the screen already on the main menu of Netflix since that's what he'd been doing before Nick came over. Clearly, he was having a wild day. Taking the spoon out of his mouth, he leaned back against his couch. "What should I start? You have any preferences?"

Nick: Any possibility of backlash from healthy eaters and parents went completely over Nick's head; it just wasn't even within his frame of mind to consider those consequences whenever he did something for fun. Eating three times the amount of ice cream ever meant for an ordinary human just seemed like fun and he wasn't hurting anyone so why would anyone get mad?  "Dude, we could totally start a broga blog where you can be like, the yoga guru and then we always follow every lesson up with a ice cream flavor of the day!" Nick suggested, another bite down the hatch. With Jeff turning on the TV and Netflix appearing on the screen, he wasn't all too sure. "Hmmm," he pondered out loud with another bite of ice cream in his mouth as chocolate syrup was beginning to drip from the corner of his mouth. "I dunno, just no reality trash, y'know?" he said, scrunching his face a little and frowning as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then wiped the chocolate onto his jeans. "Something fun where, like, no one dies 'cause I ain't about the negative right now, know what I mean?"

Jeff: "A live stream of Broga followed by ice cream? I could get into that." He thought about it, nodding along to the idea.  Yoga legitimately was one of his favorite things ever. If Nick wanted to really do it for real, he'd be more than happy to show him. He just didn't want to bore the poor guy. Jeff began to scroll through his options, avoiding everything in his Instant Queue because he never actually seemed to watch anything he put in there. Jeff was beginning to wonder if he was just a movie hoarder.  "Aw, man. No reality?  And here I was gonna put on your show. I think I'm behind a few episodes." He grinned to himself, only teasing him, before turning to cast a glance at Nick just in time to see him wipe chocolate onto his pants. He wasn't worried about him getting anything on his couch, because that'd clean up, but he didn't want him to have to leave here sticky because of all the ice cream. Leaning forward again, Jeff snatched a box of tissues he had laying around and pulled out a tissue, reaching it over to carefully place it on Nick's leg and setting the box next to him. "Sorry, I should'a brought napkins. I was too excited I guess."  He turned his attention back to the Netflix menu and hummed to himself as he weeded out the movies that had anything sad. "So I guess that leaves out Jurassic Park." He frowned in thought as he continued to look. "And definitely no Walking Dead. High School Musical is on here. We could watch Zefron in his most iconic role." That was mostly a joke, but he also wouldn't say no. "Oh, dude. Friends is on here. Let's do that?"

Nick: Nick chuckled when Jeff teased him about his show. "Bro, sometimes when I see myself on the show I get weirded out because like, that's me, y'know?" he said, laughing. He hadn't even seen the box of tissues but thanked Jeff anyways as he grabbed it and wiped it against the corner of his mouth to make sure he'd gotten all the chocolate off. He'd probably need to use another with the amount of ice cream he was eating, anyway. It hadn't occurred to him that it'd probably be best not to get his pants dirty but also he kind of didn't care because he knew he didn't have to care about his appearance when he was hanging out with Jeff. As Jeff scrolled through the selection, Nick looked up from the ice cream bowl to look along. "Bro, Zefron will never be able to top himself in the High School Musical trilogy. Like, there's just no way," he agreed before his friend landed on Friends. He pointed at the TV and gave a nod of his head. "Totes, Friends is like, one of the best sitcoms! I can't even think of a bad episode when it comes to Friends, man."

Jeff: "Oh, yeah, I feel that. I hate seeing myself on TV personally. It's so weird. I don't mind seeing you though 'cause you're funny. But I get it."  He almost wanted to reach over and help him wipe the chocolate off since it was getting everywhere, but he didn't think he was like, trying to be his Mom or something. Jeff was getting ice cream on the corners himself with every bite he took, and made sure to lick it off as he went, but he wasn't stressing too hard about the mess. The ice cream was too good to care. "He gives it a good effort, but I think you're right. Just like how Robert Pattinson will never outlive Edward Cullen. Man. Being an actor must be _tough. High School Musical is pretty iconic, though. I wonder if he's proud of being such a legend." Jeff stopped on Friends and opened it up. From where he last left off, it was somewhere in the middle of Season Six. But since Nick was here, he was going to take it all the way to the beginning. "Alright, man. Season 1, episode 1 it is. Can't think of anything better than that, honestly. People die in just about everything else."

Nick: "Well I do like making people laugh-- can't ever go wrong with that, right?" Nick said, attempting a smile even with his mouth full of ice cream and whipped cream. He was dripping more sticky ice cream and instinctively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand again before remembering Jeff had just given him a tissue and there were a box of tissues within reach. "Dammit," he grumbled as he wiped his hand on the tissue but it just clung to his sticky hand more than helped to clean anything up. As he struggled with the tissues and held his spoon in his other hand, he continued, "I think the Zefron probably knows that it was like, his big break, but prolly wants people to see that he's more than that too, y'know?" Nick couldn't help but think of how he wanted other people to see he was more than just some party boy who liked to drink. "Like, instead of just always singing he does all these weird movies like the one where he has a ghost brother or the one where he and Adam Devine go and get dates for a wedding. But man, he must like singing and dancing or else he wouldn't've done the Greatest Showman with Wolverine, yeah?" As the Friends gang came onto the screen and talked animatedly in the iconic Central Perk, Nick grinning while licking his chocolatey hand. "Bro, nothing gets better than Friends."(edited)

Jeff: "Right. That's a good thing, you know." Jeff quickly became distracted by Nick struggling to wipe the chocolate off his face and hands. It was hard to ignore, because seeing Nick struggle wasn't something that he could easily ignore (especially since the melting seemed to get progressively worse and Nick more frustrated.)  Still, he tried his best, instead continuing their conversation. "Yes! Poor Zefron. I think he's actually a pretty good actor. And he's musically talented. He's big now, but I'm surprised he's not bigger, you know?" Zefron the most underrated actor of their time.  "I agree, man. I could watch this over and over again and it's still good." As the Friends came into view, Jeff tried to distract himself by the familiar sight, but seeing Nick lick his hand out of the corner of his eye and undoubtedly not helping the situation caused him to reach his breaking point. Angling his body to the side to face him, Jeff resisted the urge to let his smile spread across his face, because he didn't want him to think he was making fun of him. "Nick...hold on. I need to do something, I'm sorry. I can't concentrate." Jeff took a fresh tissue from the box and wiped it on the side of the ice cream bowl, where clean condensation was forming on the side.  Reaching out, he gently grasped onto Nick's wrist with one hand while the other holding the tissue brought it down to sweep over Nick's palm and fingers. It wouldn't clean him up super well, but it'd at least get the ice cream and whipped cream bits off. He crumbled the tissue and grabbed another one, doing the same trick with the bowl before lifting it up to Nick's face, where he hesitated to invade his personal space to wipe the spots he missed on his face. "Can I get that too? Or you can, if you want, there's just a bunch of spots you missed."

Nick: As Nick listened to Jeff give his two cents on Zefron, he couldn't help but nod and agree. There were probably a lot of people in their own respective industries that didn't want to be put in this box of expectations or overlooked because they were stereotyped early on in their career. Just as he was about to respond, Jeff approached him with a clean tissue and helped to clean him off, which was greatly appreciated. Nick wasn't the messiest guy in the world but the amount of ice cream and chocolate smeared down his arm and across his face spoke otherwise. "Thanks, bro," he smiled, which faltered when he noticed Jeff hesitate. He shook his head and even leaned forward to give Jeff permission. "Nah, bro, I don't mind-- Get me good so my pretty mug isn't covered in stickiness," he chuckled as he bunched up the tissues in his hand to throw away. "Sorry I kinda made a mess; that ice cream was so good and I guess I got a little ahead of myself."

Jeff: Jeff laughed, relieved when Nick gave him the go ahead instead of slapping his hand away like he thought. “Okay, will do.” He nodded with a smile and leaned in. “I just don’t want you having to go home feeling gross and sticky, you know?” He went in with the tissue to wipe along the side of Nick’s face, the chocolate somehow finding place on his cheekbone. “Don’t even worry about it, dude. In a couple more bites I’ll probably have ice cream all over my face too. Then you’re gonna be the one cleaning me off. It’s just that good.” He reached his left hand out to grasp onto Nick’s chin to gently turn his face so he could reach the other side. “So... what’s new with you?” He said, jokingly, to break up the silence as he leaned in closer to see if he’d missed anything and wiped the corner of his mouth. Once he was finished he let the tissue fall between them next to their bowl and leaned back slightly, grinning at Nick proudly. “Wow, lookin’ good, dude. You’re good as new.” He glanced down at their forgotten bowl of ice cream between them and scooted back so he didn’t knock it over. “Okay lets get back to business and get ice cream all over ourselves again before it melts!”

Nick: Just like Nick had claimed, he didn't mind in the least bit when Jeff got well within his personal space to clean the ice cream and chocolate off of his face. He didn't feel embarrassed either; he knew Jeff wasn't the kind of person to make him feel insecure for his messy eating habits. Even when Jeff joked a little to break the silence, Nick still didn't feel any sort of discomfort and laughed it off-- he was at least aware of the close proximity. "Just chillin' with my best bro, man," he answered with a grin and was glad to see they were mirroring each other in facial expression. Once Jeff had finished cleaning him up, he moved his head from side to side as he rubbed his now-clean jawline, showing off his friend's handy work. "Definitely as good as new!" Nick exclaimed, still wearing a smile. When Jeff motioned to the ice cream, Nick picked up his spoon and this time made a conscious effort to remember a tissue in case he needed to wipe his mouth. He also knew that if need be, Jeff would have his back and help him out again, though.  "Dude, the great thing about ice cream is that even if it melts, then you got, like, ice cream soup and that's almost as amazing as a sundae, y'know?" He made his point by scooping a bit from the bottom where some of the ice cream had melted, a spoonful of different flavors and even some caramel balancing on his very full spoon. "And no risk of brain freeze!" He slurped it up and even licked the spoon to make sure he'd gotten it all.

Jeff: “Cool, cool. Same.” He nodded, still joking along so Nick didn’t feel awkward about Jeff’s hands being all over his face. Otherwise, all of Jeff’s hesitance had dissipated. That’s the thing about hanging out with Nick, though, Jeff was comfortable around him. Some of the people he was surrounded by on a day to day basis weren’t as easy going as Nick was. He had to watch what he said or did, which made him cautious from time to time. But then every time he hung out with Nick he was reminded that he didn’t have to worry around him, and that feeling was just awesome. And Nick always seemed comfortable with him, which made him feel good. He grinned again at his friend for the thousandth time that day, and picked up his spoon to dip into the bowl of slightly melty ice cream. “Dude...you’re a genius. Ice cream soup sounds amazing. I know what I’m eating next time I’m sick.” He stuck his spoon in his mouth, ice cream dribbling down the corner of his mouth now. He reached beside them to grab a tissue , noticing it was the last one and they were gonna have to stop being lazy and get napkins soon. But they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Ice cream was no joke. It got everywhere.

Nick: "Totally, ice cream soup, gatorade, and like, skittles. 'Cause when you gotta pop all that medicine when you're sick, candy makes it even better, y'know?" Nick said, dipping his spoon back into the sundae. When his spoon scraped against the bottom he peered into the bowl and was astonished that it was already almost finished off. Though he supposed it also wasn't surprising since they could both put away food like no tomorrow. They still had the pizza that was left untouched; thankfully, Nick's stomach wasn't even close to being full. He shot straight up from the couch and practically bounced his way back to the kitchen to retrieve the pizza pie and grabbed some napkins while he was at it, knowing they'd need them. He made sure there was room on the living room table where the pizza could sit before taking a slice for himself and taking a bite. "Bro," Nick called to get Jeff's attention when he took his spoon and scooped a little bit of ice cream and placed it on the end of his slice. "Ever mix ice cream with pizza? It's like, hella weird but I swear it's also amazing because cheese and ice cream is the weirdest mix that shouldn't work but bro... holy shit." To demonstrate, he took a bite of the oily cheesy pizza topped with the bit of ice cream and let out a satisfied sound once he started chewing.

Jeff: "Gatorade I've done, but skittles? Never heard of that home remedy. Next time I get the plague I'll remember that." He glanced down into their bowl when Nick did, and was shocked to find out that they really put that all away. Jeff knew he was gonna be sick probably for the next few days, but right now it was so worth it. He sat up straight when Nick grabbed the pizza and brought it back to their spot. He turned to face Nick and the food and watched in fascination as Nick scooped ice cream directly onto his slice of pizza. "Nick, bro. You know I love you, and think you're a Master Chef. But that looks awful." He watched, perplexed, as Nick chewed it happily. "God, okay. I trust you." He grabbed a slice of pizza with one hand and hesitantly scooped a bit of their ice cream at the end. He looked from it to Nick and back again, before raising it up to his lips, looking at Nick cautiously all the while. As soon as he bit in it and chewed hesitantly, his eyes widened dramatically. "Oh. Dude. What the---?" He took another bite and chewed again. "Why... is this good?" He looked at his pizza oddly. "What ELSE would be good with Pizza?"

Nick: "I mean, I dunno that it actually helps with the actual cold but you can't ever go wrong with Skittles, know what I mean?" Nick clarified, thinking that maybe skittles on his pizza might even be amazing. He watched with expectant eyes as Jeff tried his weird little concoction of flavors and gave a little nod of encouragement when Jeff eyed him with hesitation. He loved that Jeff trusted him to try new and crazy things. Jeff's eyes widening in what Nick could only assume was the spiritual realization of the amazingness that was pizza and ice cream together had Nick absolutely beaming. "Yes! Bro, I knew you would love it!" he cheered before taking another bite of his pizza. Mid-chew, he answered Jeff's question. "Ranch dressing, but ranch tastes amazing with, like, everything. But, like, I don't think you could ever go wrong with anything on pizza. Except, like, I dunno-- pineapple." He swallowed and then scrunched his face up with disgust, shuddering at the very thought of fruit on his pizza.

Jeff: "I mean, they'd definitely help me feel better. Especially the sour ones." Jeff nodded along, before getting distracted by this new invention that is the ice-cream-pizza. Shamelessly, Jeff lifted up another spoonful of ice cream and dumped it on top of his remaining slice of pizza. "Ranch dressing is the best on pizza. We shoulda grabbed that too, but I'm happy with just this ice cream, honestly." He chewed his bite and swallowed before speaking again. "At the risk of ruining our friendship..." He began seriously. "I like pineapple pizza." He almost felt ashamed. "And anchovies. Not all on the same pizza, of course. I'm not a monster."

Nick: Nick stared at Jeff for a moment to be sure he was being serious about the pineapple pizza before shaking his head. "You're a brave soul, man. I dunno how you can take the fruit on a pizza and I wish that I had your taste buds because I wanna like it but... I just can't, man." He nudged his friend then, offering him a small smile. "You could like freakin' tangerines on your pizza and it wouldn't ruin our friendship, bro. And I like anchovies on my pizza, too, so next time we'll totes get some of that." He gave him a little wink before helping himself to another slice of pizza but not before spreading more ice cream on it before taking a bite. Once they were finished with all this food, Nick already knew there was going to be a huge crash where many naps would be needed while all his mental and physical energy went to focus on digesting all of this food.

Jeff: "It's okay, your taste buds can probably handle more things that I can. Like --- you always could take more shots than me." He smiled back and nudged him in return. "Anchovies, for sure. I say we skip those tangerines though. Not sure if I'd be a fan." He teased and smiled at the wink before helping Nick polish off the rest of the food. He could feel himself get more and more stuffed by the second, but he just kept going. When they were done, he let out a large sigh and fell back against the cushions of his couch. Friends was almost on episode 3 by this point, but he didn't think either of them had been paying much attention. "Okay... I think... I'm finally done." He yawned and threw an arm over his stomach as he rolled his head over to look at Nick. "You're not still hungry, are you? Cause I have more food. I just might not be able to get up and get it."

Nick: Nick had officially eaten too much. There was a tiny bit of cheese stuck to the pizza box that he was tempted to eat but his stomach protested and he let out a heavy sigh. At some point in his voracious eating, he had managed to slump back against the couch. Doing so made his tummy look bigger than it was he certainly felt very full. As Jeff yawned, almost on cue Nick had opened his mouth and let out a fierce yawn as well. "I want more food... but, I dunno if I can..." Nick replied sluggishly. His eyelids felt heavy and a food coma was inevitable at this point. "Sleepy," he murmured, looking away from the empty food receptacles and back to Jeff. "I don't think I can move either so you're good, bro." He blinked slowly, eventually closing his eyes completely as he attempted to focus his energy to making himself not feel sleepy-- not seeing the lack of logic in that path of thinking.

Jeff: Seeing Nick yawn made him want to yawn again, and he could tell right away that this was going to be a vicious cycle. "I know, I feel you on that." He reached over to pat his leg lazily before dropping his hand to the couch, trying to fight another yawn. "Y'can sleep if you want." He rested his head on the back of the couch, but rolled it to the side again to peer at Nick, who already had his eyes closed. Mustering some energy, he lifted their empty trash and tossed it on the table in front of them before collapsing back on the couch beside Nick. "I can move if you wanna stretch out. Then... you can eat more when you wake up." Even if he knew they'd probably be full for like eight years after this.

Nick: Nick barely found the strength to peek open through one eye to acknowledge Jeff and his suggestion. "Nah, bro, you're good," he replied in a voice slightly lower than usual, slow and sluggish. "Dessert... After sleep." He honestly felt like he could fall asleep just like this-- the cushions hadn't felt nearly this comfortable when he first sat down and now it felt like a cozy cloud. Closing his eyes again, it didn't much more to coax him into a heavy sleep.

Jeff: "Good. Don't wanna move anyway." He replied with a sleepy sort of laugh and slid down further against the cushions, reclining by lifting his legs to lay on a free spot on the table. Closing his eyes, he sank lower as he became more relaxed, and his head fell to the side to knock against and use Nick's upper arm as a convenient pillow. It didn't take long until he was fast asleep; not even the laugh track on the TV was going to wake him up anytime soon.

Nick: Nick was off to dreamland and remained that way for quite some time. The next time he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the TV, Friends had stopped playing and Netflix was prompting them to continue watching if they were still there. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, it took him another moment to realize that something heavy was on top of him and he couldn't move. "... Jeff? Bro?" He whispered, unsure if he should even wake his friend up. His arm had somehow slung its way atop of Jeff during his sleep so he carefully moved it as he shifted slightly where he sat.

Jeff: Jeff was one hundred percent passed out and dead to the world. As he was slightly jostled and his name was whispered, he stirred slightly, but otherwise stayed asleep. He further buried his head into the surface his head was laying on, and he tightened his hold around whatever his arms had thrown themselves on. It wasn't until the faint smell of chocolate hit his nose and the fact that his subconscious realized he didn't use a realistically heated body pillow that he woke himself up. "Huh? What?" He lifted his head up, and squinted at Nick until his sleep addled brain realized what had happened. "Oh. Oh." He released him as fast as his sluggish limbs could and sat up straight, immediately scooching to his side of the couch to allow Nick his personal space. He knew Nick probably wouldn't be mad about it, but the fact that Jeff let himself pass out directly on top of someone without like, asking first, was a little embarrassing. "Sorry. Fell asleep." He offered him a small sheepish grin, stating the obvious, before he yawned. "Uh. About how long were we out for? It's probably late, you're probably wanting to get home, and I'm over here suffocating you."

Nick: As Jeff slowly awoke from his slumber and their eyes met, Nick chuckled and grinned at him. It was a funny situation they'd found themselves in and Nick certainly didn't mind a comfortable nap with a friend. When Jeff sat up and scooted back, Nick shifted and straightened up as well. "It's no prob, man," he rubbed his eyes again before stretching his arms and cricking his neck a bit. "Dude, I don't even know how long we were out but that was like, the best nap I've had in a really really long time." He dug his phone out to read the time but instead his Twitter notifications got him distracted. "Oh, bro! We got loads of hits and comments on that pic of our epic ice cream sundae!" He laughed and turned his phone towards Jeff to show him. "We totally have to do this again-- soon-- and honestly? I wouldn't decline another nap because it was pretty awesome."

Jeff: Jeff couldn't help a small grin himself. It was kind of funny, usually people only fell asleep on each other in movies. They had eaten their weight and then some in junk food, though, so that probably helped conk them out moreso than usual. Despite the slight stiffness in his own neck, Jeff had to admit, the nap had been pretty awesome. "I won't lie to you... I didn't hate it." He nodded, trying to be serious, although the smile was cracking through. Obviously he didn't hate it since he practically tried to bear hug Nick in his sleep. As Nick pulled out his phone, Jeff thought he should probably do the same to check what he missed when dead to the world, but quickly got distracted by Nick's exclamation. "Really?" He leaned forward, excited to see just how many people commented on their creation. "Wow." He raised both his eyebrows. "They like it as much as we did and they didn't even get to eat it." He commented, idly wondering how he could do an ice cream giveaway to them before realizing that wouldn't be very easy to pull off with melting and whatnot. "I'm in. Maybe with slightly less food, but I won't say no to another Niff day." He paused. "Or a nap. But, uh ---" He reached over and swiped his hand along Nick's sleeve apologetically. "I'll try not 

Nick: "Yo, how 'bout-- 'Hashtag: Niff Naps'? Catchy, right?" Nick said jokingly with a teasing nudge. He put his phone back in his pocket, a smile still on his face at how much the picture of their sundae had apparently taken off on the internet. Even though Nick had quite the following because of his TV show, none of his other content gathered that much buzz. Convinced it was because he had tagged Jeff in his post, it was clear to him that public demanded more Niff for the future. "Dude, next time we go on an ice cream binge we have to, like, make a whole YouTube video of it or something, y'know?" When Jeff reached to wipe whatever saliva that Nick hadn't even noticed was on his sleeve, he chuckled. He stood up from the couch, stretching a bit more before letting out a little sigh. Nick didn't like goodbyes because that meant parting ways but he also knew this wouldn't be the last time he'd see Jeff and they already made many promises to hang out again-- hopefully soon.  "Alright, dude, sad to say I gotta go but I can't stay here forever; I'll eat all your food and then you'll starve and I can't have that."

Jeff: "Maybe. We'll come up with names for it next time." He joked back easily as Nick nudged him, feeling at ease with him. It never ceased to amaze him that him and Nick had their own fanbase. Maybe that's when you know you've really made it; your fans are more obsessed with you and your friends than they are your actual profession. Jeff wasn't mad about it, though, he liked that peopled liked them because he liked them too. "Definitely. Our very own Niff Mukbang." He laughed, before slowly standing up along with Nick, feeling the slight ache in his neck again from the position he fell asleep in. "Alright, man. Hate to see you go, but I probably don't have that much food. Come back once I get myself to go grocery shopping." He joked before stepping towards him and grappling him into a big hug. He clapped him on the back and stepped away, heading towards his front door so he could let him out. "We'll do this again soon, alright? Next time we'll document it more so the fans feel more included."

Nick: Nick looked puzzled, unaware of what Jeff had just said. "Huh? 'Mukbang'?" he repeated with his brows scrunched in confusion. He wasn't aware of the Korean video trend and it went over his head completely. Though, whatever it was he was sure it was, it'd probably be delicious or really fun. Or both. When Jeff pulled him into a hug, Nick immediately hugged back with equal enthusiasm and vigor. Jeff was his absolute best friend and conveying so in a hug was one of the best ways ever. "We are definitely gonna do this again, man. And soon, too."

Jeff: Jeff looked at his best friend in excitement when he seemed unaware of what he was talking about. “Oh, man, I’ve got to show you next time we hang out. It’s people who sit and eat a ton of food for views! You’re going to love it.” He nodded enthusiastically, before calming down as he said goodbye. He didn’t think twice about hugging Nick, he was practically his favorite person and he wanted him to know that. “Yeah we will! I’ll text you later, probably when I scroll past all the Twitter comments and find the good ones.” He smiles and stepped back as Nick left. “Careful on your way home, okay? Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel ‘cause you’re still in a food coma.”

Nick: The whole mukbang thing sounded intriguing and Nick would have to remember to have Jeff show it to him the next time they hung out. He’d try anything once, honestly. “Totally, dude. I’m cool to drive and you know I got like, hella good judgement,” Nick assuaged his friend’s worries, waving at him one last time before finally departing. “Til next time, bro!”

[paralianblue]

The Cockpit

AKA the short story included at the end of special Waterstones copies of Broken Homes, which most of the RoL fandom don’t have access to. I happen to have a copy of that edition, and (seeing as how it’s impossible for the majority of the fandom to access it in any other way) have typed it all up below. Please enjoy, let me know if there are any typos, and note that I do not own copyright etc to the following:

The Cockpit

'It's not easy being a bookseller,' said Warwick Anderson - bookseller. 'Especially in that branch. It's a listed building, so Waterstones can't put in a lift and we have to carry the stock up and down the stairs.'

'So you were tired?' I said.

Warwick took a sip of his coffee. We were in a spare office at Waterstones' gigantic art deco store on Piccadilly that the company had made available to us. We were there because Warwick Anderson refused to go within five hundred metres of his old store in Covent Garden.

He was a white guy in his late twenties with slightly mad blond hair flying up into spikes.

'Well, I already had to do the overnight on my own, so that didn't help,' said Warwick, because the perennial problem for all retailers the world over is the customers. Not only do they clutter up the shop, but they also demand to be reminded of the title of a book they read a review about in the Telegraph, given directions to the Lion King, helped to find a book their mum will like and, occasionally, purchase some actual merchandise. All of this customer-facing activity gets in the way of the shelving, merchandising, stickering, destickering, table pyramiding and stock returning that is necessary for the smooth operation of a modern bookshop. The bigger stores can have whole shifts devoted to coming in early and making sure their shelves are ship-shape, but small stores have to resort of the occasional overnighter.

'You can get a tremendous amount of work done if there are no customers in the way,' said Warwick. 'It's crucial if you have to move a section or something.'

'And you were on your own?' asked Lesley.

'Yes,' said Warwick, who was obviously disturbed by Lesley's face mask. 'Peggy had been with me the night before, but last night it was just me.'

Lesley checked her notebook. 'This would be Peggy Loughliner?' she said.

'That's right,' said Warwick, looking anywhere but at Lesley's face. 'I was in the basement shifting celebrity chefs from one end of the cookery session to the other when a book hit me in the back.'

Warwick had spun around, but found he was still alone. There was a book at his feet. It was Banksy's Wall and Piece. Fortunately it was the paperback version.

'Or else that would have really hurt,' said Warwick.

Spooked, he'd taken the time to check the rest of the shop, including the staff areas and the three entry points, but didn't find any evidence that he wasn't alone. He went back to his shelving and was more annoyed than frightened when he was hit on the back of the head by a soft toy - the kind on offer at till point. He was just about to whirl around and catch the perpetrator red-handed when approximately five shelves of the Art section hit him in the back - including two display shelves of Art Monographs.

'It's not funny,' said Warwick. 'Some of those Taschen books are huge.'

Actually, the CCTV footage was sort of funny, in a cruel YouTube kind of way. Unfortunately, the camera had been positioned to cover a blind spot behind the till so the books were already in mid-flight before they appeared on the screen. Warwick was just visible on the left of the frame being knocked down by the sheer weight of art. Worse than that, a couple had struck him squarely on the back of the head, rendering him semi-conscious.

He'd managed to stagger to the phone at the downstairs till and dial 999 before collapsing. The response team had been forced to break in, adding to the damage. And, having waved Warwick off in an ambulance, they called in the store manager to take care of the door before being called away to deal with a birthday party that was explosively decompressing outside the newly rebuilt Genius Bar in the piazza.

A DS from the CW's PCU, that's the Charing Cross Primary Crime Unit to you, evaluated the case and, since Warwick had suffered only a minor concussion, there didn't seem to have been a break-in prior to the arrival of the police, and nothing appeared to have been stolen, assigned it to his most junior PC with strong hints that it should be cleared, dumped, or passed into oblivion by the end of the day. The PC, who shall forever remain nameless, had been at CW with both me and Lesley and had been following our subsequent careers with the same appalled interest engendered by the early round contestants in Britain's Got Talent so he decided this was just the sort of weird shit that the Special Assessment Unit, aka The Folly, aka those weirdos, had been formed to deal with.

'You know what I reckon,' said Warwick Anderson. 'I reckon it was a poltergeist."

I don't have time to talk about the nature of ghosts here, but let's just say that, like the mentally ill, they almost never pose a danger to the public. And when they do it hardly ever involves throwing physical objects about. However, according to Nightingale, when they do start flinging the furniture it can be very serious. So I arranged for us to spend the night in the, possibly, haunted bookshop.

'And I have to be here because?' asked Lesley.

'So there's corroboration if anything happens,' I said.

'And Toby?' she asked.

'To wake us up if anything happens,' I said.

The shop manager, a short, round, and strangely asymmetrical white man in his mid-thirties, also wanted to know about the dog.

'Don't worry,' I said. 'He's specially trained.'

'Oh, he's special all right,' said Lesley.

The Covent Garden branch of Waterstones had been created by purchasing three shops - one medium sized one on New Row and two small ones on Garrick Street - and then knocking them all together and fitting out the basement. This gave it three entrances, four till points and a very odd shape. Lots of dead space, I noticed, ideal for shoplifting.

I asked the manager about it, and he said I'd be surprised by what got stolen.

'Poetry mainly,' he said.

'Really?' I asked.

'Really,' he said.

I supposed that being right next to the Garrick Club they got a better class of shoplifter.

I'd noticed an interesting windowed dome over the main till on my first visit, but when I did a cursory historical and architectural search online that afternoon I couldn't find any reference to it at all. I got the impression that the central section had once been a hall or a boardroom - somewhere built for display.

The manager would have preferred to have spent the night in the shop with us, but but we suggested that if he was that worried he could always wait in his car outside - he declined.

Once he'd shown us how to lock up and set the alarm, in case we left early, and had a strained telephone conversation with his cluster manager, he departed with many a worried backward glance.

The ground floor was an L-shaped space mage up of obviously quite a large hall, the main entrance, and a similar size section at an angle which contained the main till with the glazed dome above it. The stock room and loading bay were behind the till and at the other end two smaller wings, children's books and travel, ended with doors out onto Garrick Street. A set of central stairs led down into the basement where Art, Self-Help, History, Politics, and the ever-expanding Cookery section lay.

We did what we've come to call an Initial Vestigia Assessment, or IVA - which consisted of wandering around the shop trying to sense if anything occult had happened inside. It wasn't easy, because books have the same effect on vestigia as those egg-shaped boxes of foam have on sound. It was a phenomenon much commented on in the literature, or at least in the literature I'd managed to skim through that afternoon. Most practitioners cite the effect as the reason why it was much easier to have a nap in one of the Folly's libraries than in the smoking room where they were supposed to.

There was definitely something at the main till under the dome on the ground flood. A whiff of the slaughterhouse mingled with shouting, excitement, desire, disappointment and rotting straw. Downstairs, where the 'attack' had taken place, it was just your normal central London background of pain, joy, sweat, tears and the occasional inexplicable horse or sheep.

According to the literature there are basically two types of ghosts, those that only show themselves when people are present and those that only come out when nobody is there. There are Latin tags for both types but I can never remember what they are. So the big question was whether to set up camp where the unfortunate Warwick Anderson was buried in books or to wait in the manager's office and monitor via CCTV. In the end we decided to wait in Art, where the attack had taken place, and if nothing happened after three hours to move to the office - which was closer to the staff room and the coffee in any case.

'Hold on,' said Lesley as we settled into our chairs. 'Didn't the children's section used to be downstairs?'

'I don't remember getting called to a job here' I said.

'I used to buy presents for my nieces and nephews,' she said. 'And the children's section was there.' She pointed to a square alcove whose shelves were currently labelled Street Art, Interiors and Photography. Street Art being graffiti with a dollar value on the international market.

'At least that bit was where Harry Potter and Road Dahl were,' she said. 'Although Tracy preferred Darren Shan to Harry Potter. I used to check the table for new stuff.'

The display table in the alcove was currently sporting a sign which read 'Never Without Art', a category which appeared to consist of big glossy books with tastefully photographed white women on the cover.

I rummaged around in the go bag for the first of the snacks and Toby lay down on his back at our feet and stuck his legs in the air.

At least we had plenty to read.

In three hours I ate two packets of crisps, a ham sandwich, and read sixty pages of Policing With Contempt by Victor Baker, the alleged pen name of a serving police officer in some force up north. Whoever he really was, he really hated paperwork, political correctness and yearned for the simpler days of yore. I reckoned that if his skipper ever worked out who he was, he was going to get a close-up look at the good old days via the application of a telephone directory to the tender parts of his body.

We decided it was time for coffee and a possible shift to the manager's office.

I'd just put the kettle on when Toby started barking.

Me and Lesley looked at each other and then ran for the door. We would have made it back to the Art section faster if we hadn't tripped over each other's feet in the narrow corridor that ran past the manager's office. By the time we got there it was all over.

There were four neat stacks of books lined up in front of our chairs.

'Symmetrical book stacking,' I said. 'Just like the British Library in 1896.'

'You're right, Peter,' said Lesley. 'No human being would stack books like this.'

Having established that some sort of weird shit was going on, step two, in the as-yet completely theoretical Modern Procedure Guide for Supernatural Police Officers, was to try and categorise what it is that you're dealing with. With ghosts, the easiest way was to pump a bit of magic into them and see what form they took.

I conjured a werelight which caused Toby to take refuge behind the till counter - he's a veteran of many of my practice sessions.

Shadows flickered amongst the shelves as the werelight dimmed and took on a crimson hue.

'Definitely something,' said Lesley.

'I can't see a figure,' I said.

Usually a ghost would have manifested by that stage.

'Give it some welly,' said Lesley.

I upped the intensity of the werelight until it practically gave off lens flare. Then suddenly it shrank down to a small sapphire blue star and winked out.

'Uh oh,' said Lesley and we both dived for the safety of the till counter just in time for the shop to explode.

Well, not explode exactly. As far as we could reconstruct it later, fully half the books in the basement shot off their shelves and would have sailed across the shop if they hadn't met the books from the opposite shelves coming the other way, with a rattling sound of collision.

Strangely, some areas were left untouched. Not one Nigella Lawson book left its shelf, but every single copy of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist was later found jammed into an air conditioning vent.

'That didn't feel like a ghost,' I said.

Toby licked my face, which was disgusting, but there was no way I was sticking my head above the level of the till just yet.

Lesley cautiously took her hands off her head and risked a peep over the counter-top. When nothing bad happened, I joined her.

'What did it feel like?' she asked.

It had felt a bit like the first time I'd met Mama Thames or when Beverly Brook kissed me or the Old Man of the River had turned his gaze upon me. Like the smell of blood and the taste of plasticine, like crossed legs and chicken feathers.

'Definitely not a ghost,' I said. 'I want to check something.'

We tiptoed over the books on the floor and up the stairs, which were fortunately free of books, although a display case full of Dan Brown books had been flung into the travel section.

A drift of brightly coloured volumes for toddlers and early readers stretched out from the Children's section towards the stairwell. I motioned Lesley towards the area under the dome.

'Tell me what you sense,' I said.

Even without her mask on it can be hard to tell what Lesley's thinking. The damage to her face has stripped all the markers that we rely on to read the expressions of others. Still, I was getting better at interpreting what I did see, and what she showed under the dome was puzzlement, then disgust and then recognition.

'Cock-fighting ring,' she said.

'That's what I thought,' I said. 'All that excitement, activity and on top of that the power that gets released at the point of death.'

'Chicken ghost?' said Lesley. 'No, wait, you said it wasn't a ghost.'

'Do you know how gladiator fights got started?' I asked.

Lesley indicated that not only did she not know this interesting historical fact, but that she would like me to impart it some time before old age and death.

'They started as a religious ceremony at grand Roman funerals,' I said.

'And you know this because?'

'Horrible Histories,' I said.

'So you're thinking what?'

I told her.

'You're kidding me,' she said.

'Okay,' I said. 'Say something bad about books.'

'What?'

'Say something disparaging about books and reading.'

'Why me?' asked Lesley.

'Because it will be more convincing coming from you,' I said.

Lesley looked around self-consciously and then said: 'Nobody ever learnt anything from a book.'

I thought I heard a rustle downstairs - and so did Lesley.

'Books are for losers,' she said.

Definitely movement, and it wasn't us. I checked and it wasn't Toby either.

'Oh my god,' said Lesley as we went downstairs.

'Exactly,' I said.

'Yeah, well don't sound so smug,' she said. 'Look at this place. It's a mess.'

'I have a plan for that,' I said and told her.

'Not me again,' she said.

'You've got a better voice,' I said.

Lesley agreed and, after a moment's thought, went upstairs to fetch a book from the Children's section. She waved it at me when she came back down.

'Harry Potter?' I said. 'Really?'

'Since I'm reading,' she said. 'It's my choice.'

I created another werelight, a nice gentle one, and addressed the bookshop at large.

'Hello,' I said in my brightest voice. 'My name's Peter Grant and tonight we're going to play a game called 'put all the books back in order.' And if you're especially good and well-behaved, my friend Lesley's going to read you a story.'

Lesley, the coward, claimed she had a medical appointment and left me to explain it to the manager the next morning.

'There's a god living in my branch,' said the manager when I was finished.

'A Genius Loci,' I said. 'A spirit of place. And it's more accurate to say that it is the shop - in a metaphysical sense. A god or goddess of books and reading.'

'But why here?' he asked plaintively.

'Well, it's a book shop,' I said.

'So what?' asked the manager. 'My last branch didn't have a local god in it. None of the other managers have ever mentioned anything like this - I'm sure I would have remembered. Why here?'

Because, I thought, the cock-fighting ring on your top floor provided a reservoir of vestigia which interacted with all those young minds reading books downstairs, and a spirit of a place formed like a pearl around a bit of grit. Only I wasn't going to tell him that. Because not only could I not prove any of it, it was also a bloody dreadful simile.

Then the Children's section had been moved upstairs and the poor little deity started to feel unloved.

'Just one of those things,' I said.

'But what am I supposed to do about it,' he asked. 'Sacrifice a goat?'

'About once a week somebody has to sit down and read it a book,' I said.

'What kind of book?'

'It's not the book that's important,' I said. 'It's the reading.'  

[wristwatchjournal]

Watch Review: Casio Edifice Honda Racing Limited Edition

When considering purchasing a Japanese quartz watch under $500 many enthusiasts can quickly think of brands and sub-brands like Casio, G-shock, Seiko, Seiko 5, Prospex, Citizen, and maybe any fashion brand with a Japanese quartz movement, to broaden the landscape. But while reading my previous sentence, did you happen to think about Edifice and it’s collection of watches? If you did, bravo (silent golf clap), but if you didn’t I wouldn’t blame you as it’s always taken a back seat to G-Shock and it’s multi-platform marketing monster.

A lot like Liam Hemsworth. “Who?” you say.” Exactly. Liam’s a lot like Edifice, and his well-known brother, Chris Hemsworth (aka Thor, aka Tag Heuer Ambassador driving a Formula E race car) is akin to G-Shock. Sure, they come from the same pedigree, same DNA, have a similar appearance, and both are accomplished actors, but one’s just beefier and more relevant than the other.

If we’re keeping track, aBlogtoWatch hasn’t done an Edifice hands-on since the EQWT720DC-1A back in 2012, which was almost a decade ago and about how long it took for me to write out that model name. The G-shock regularly gets hands-on coverage and, based on our track record, we’ll probably have another article by the time this one goes live.

So without further ado, I present to you the Edifice Honda Racing Limited Edition. Casio’s third collaboration piece between Edifice and Honda Racing. While being a Type-R enthusiast (which I am) warrants reason for owning this watch, there are other reasons you should consider this “Liam Hemsworth” of Casios, even if it has a polarizing red, ridged strap.

The limited-edition model piggybacks off Casio’s newest ECB lineup, which is a great thing, as it has Bluetooth capability and shares the strong faceted case design elements. The ECB models’ Bluetooth functionality gets an upgrade with iOS/Android calendar sync, but the Honda Racing version has a clever trick up its sleeve with wrist detection Auto LED illumination. These two additional functions contained within the 5618 quartz module are under-marketed, as they have real-life applications versus many redundant and often ancillary functions inside the dials of other Edifice and G-shock models.

Exterior design characteristics remind me of the G-shock Aka Zonae with the red and gold accents. The gold accents are used to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the Edifice brand, and Honda Racing’s red is used to highlight the number 20 on the bezel, as well as the logo and other dial elements. The strap is made from leather and has a double-ridge design with color-matched stitching reminiscent of the Bulgari Octo Maserati Mono-Retro straps, and is finished with a metal keeper etched with the Edifice and Honda logos.

The case is forged from steel and finished with a black ion coating, which is par for course based on recent trends for sport models, but I find it doesn’t do the case justice. Specifically, the black ion coating hides a lot of the interesting facets on the case and renders the watch a little too flat in real life. The design attributes incorporate some of our favorite watch shapes, such as an octagon bezel with understated bezel bolts at 9 and 3 o’clock, a long trapezoidal button guard on the left side, and multi-faceted guards flanking the pseudo-crown. A couple dimensions that make this watch extremely wearable is the overall height at 13mm and the stubby lugs, which protrude a total of 4.2mm from the case, allowing the straps to lay closer to your wrist without having to excessively curve the lugs downward.

A woven carbon-fiber dial is glossy with flat-brushed metal hour indices married to an analog/digital display. The slightly oblong and cut subdial at 7:30 displays the different modes, as well as doing triple-duty as a stopwatch minutes/hour hand, countdown timer, and calendar appointment start/end indicator. The digital LCD readout for all the functions is gold-hued to match the rest of the color scheme.

While the dial isn’t cluttered with multiple function hands, subdials, or sub-digital displays, it can at times seem busy due to visual elements that actually make it hard to read the time. This is in contrast to the marketing photos depicting a crisp, almost 3D like dial appearance. My observations were that the glossy reflective woven carbon fiber dial had a tendency to camouflage the brushed hour markers, making them disappear into the dial, and the reflective gold elements have a “black mirror polish” effect that also makes them blend in with the dial at certain angles. The watch is topped with a sapphire crystal with non-reflective coating, but I found the flat surface was a glare magnet and contributed to the washing out of contrast under the dial.

Fortunately, the legibility of the white accents are at their best when the dual LEDs illuminate the broad white hands, the highly reflective white printed hour markers on the chapter ring, and the backlit digital display. This watch’s execution of illumination is, by far, one of my favorites of all the Casios I have had a chance to try on, and the auto-illumination is reliable.

The auto-illumination time duration can be changed from 1.5 seconds or 3 seconds, which is activated and configured either through the watch directly or through the connected app. It’s activated when the wrist is turned past 15 degrees from the horizon. When making changes, I preferred using the app because trying to change this setting through the phone required over 15 presses of the mode button after you had gotten it into adjustment mode. The downside of this fantastic dual LED illumination is that it may blind you at night when checking the time mid-sleep; yes, I wear my watches to bed…I know, “weirdo.”

Bluetooth syncing allows for all the regular time adjustments but also syncs to your phone’s calendar appointments making forgotten meetings almost impossible. With the hourly signal “beep” turned on and my calendar synced, it would give me a modulating beep whenever I had an appointment coming up and start the countdown till meeting start, after which the watch will countdown the time allotted for the meeting and then reset automatically to the next calendar event, starting the countdown process again. After using it a few times, especially days with multiple appointments, it started to look like a digital calendar-event retrograde complication, if ever there was a thing,

I might be inclined to go for the stainless steel version with the rubber strap, as it makes more sense for a sports watch and because a high-contrast black watch with a Honda Racing red strap isn’t for everyone. That said, compared to a G-Shock, it’s way more subdued, has a much more svelte footprint, and is more daily-wear appropriate with proper EDC functions.

While we’re on the subject of svelte and comfortable, I want to emphasize the finish of the buckle, as it’s one of the nicest-feeling on the wrist and the leather strap should last longer due to Casio’s detail in giving the buckle an angled bend and for rounding off the inside of the buckle where the strap usually folds over itself to release the horn. In fact, I liked the feel of the leather strap so much I decided to take a quick look at the Edifice website and found another model with the same lug design with a brown leather strap, which could look nice accented against the gold and black, for $84.00! This basically screams, “Buy the strap, get a free watch head.”

This watch has a lot of technology built into it, yet the dial is one of the more subdued within the Edifice brand. Nonetheless, it packs digital functions that can be used daily and keeps you connected to larger events within your day. I personally ended up using the calendar sync, auto-illumination, hand shift, timer, and hour signal the most. I would have used the alarm function more often had it allowed me to set alarms on separate days versus a global setting for every day.

While the G-shock brand may have Supreme-like inflated prices due to its street-cred hype (which isn’t to say it’s not warranted, at times), the Edifice line comes in at a reasonable value for having as much, if not more, technology and features, much like Vans. So, when you’re over the A-lister hype and sick of Chris in all his G-Shock, Shock Resistant Thor bravado, slap on a nice everyday Liam for a well-balanced, Gale Hawthorne digital watch experience that only comes with “Intelligence and Speed,” topped with a dollop of Hunger Games.

The Casio Edifice Honda Racing Limited Edition is priced at $330. You can learn more about this watch and other Edifice models at edifice.casio.com.

Necessary Data: >Brand: Casio >Model: Edifice Honda Racing Limited Edition >Price: $330USD >Size: 51mm tall lug-to-lug, 48.8mm-wide case-to-crown, 13mm-thick >When reviewer would personally wear it: Motoring events and everyday wear. No high-board diving and scuba diving, as its only good for 10 bar. >Friend we’d recommend it to first: Value-conscious friend interested in the functions and pragmatism of a G-Shock but turned off by the looks. Also an enthusiast of the following in any combination: Honda (Mugen, Type-R, HRC), motorsports, stealthy sports watches, and someone with a lot of calendar appointments. >Best characteristic of watch: Comfortable and stylish case. Straight forward app with a nice user interface and experience. >Worst characteristic of watch: “16mm” proprietary strap and the fact that there’s a Tom’s Racing LE version we can’t get in the states.

The post Watch Review: Casio Edifice Honda Racing Limited Edition appeared first on Wristwatch Journal.

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[rodrigohyde]

What's On The Inside Counts, But Make It Look Good

A Reserve For Power

Thank you for all the wealth of knowledge you have shared thus far. I began in my quest to build a watch collection, approximately a year ago. And thus far have really liked many different movements, complications, case shapes, and dials. I have built a small collection, basis on advice from you and your previous articles. All are focused on the power reserve indicator, as I am hooked by the charm of winding one's watch and seeing it replenish its lost energy. All are beautiful in many subtle ways.

- Audemars 25955 in White Gold

- Jaeger LeCoultre Reverso Grande Reserve 240.8.14 [8 Days]

- Girard Perregaux Richeville Day Night 27610 [Tonneau, Automatic]

Is this a complete collection in itself? Or does it need another watch which can really round it up well?

This is an interesting, if rather old-fashioned collection, at least as seen from the perspective of a modern wristwatch enthusiast . These are none of them especially new models and there is an undeniable charm to all three timepieces – it is always immensely refreshing to see a round watch from Audemars Piguet and while both the JLC and the GP are perhaps a bit more reflective of a particular era of watch design than is good for them from a broad collecting standpoint, taken all three together, you have a quite delightful and rather thoughtful mini-collection on your hands.

I am going to surprise myself, and probably you, by suggesting as an addition, the Big Pilot’s Watch from IWC. In many respects it is the antithesis of the watches you currently own but I do not think I would especially be doing you a service by suggesting another elegant, slightly fussy wristwatch and if you are fascinated by the power reserve indication, the Big Pilot’s Watch is one of the purest embodiments I can think of, of the complication. Based both on your remarks and your collection, you seem to be a gent of diverse tastes and I think you might find the IWC a surprising, and enduringly interesting, watch to add to your collection.

Related: Don't Over Think It -- The Watch Snob Says Keep It Clean

Moving To The Oldies

Ever since I got fascinated with watches, I have found myself reading up more and more about the history of watches. My question is about long running old watch movements which are still in production today. There is a certain charm to a movement still being relevant for more than 35-40 years. So currently, I only know about AP 2120 [1967], Patek 240 [1977], JLC 849 [1975], El Primero [1969], and ETA 7750 [1973]. Is there any other significant movement which I am missing out from this list, and ought to know about?

Well, it came out in its original form in 1983, so it’s a bit younger as it were than the other movements in your list, but there is always the ETA 2892, which is as interesting a movement in terms of both history and design as any I can think of. Mass produced, certainly, in its millions, but the fact that ETA and Swatch Group can and have produced, for 35 years, what is essentially an extra-flat self winding caliber that has in one form or another been one of the most indispensable powerhouses in the watch industry, is remarkable.

One other addition to your list might be the Omega caliber 861/1861. The 1861 began to replace the 861 in 1990s but they’re essentially the same movement apart from some minor technical improvements. The 861 has been around since the late 1960s and as the caliber 1861 it continues to give excellent service in the modern Moonwatch.

A Pilot On The Pursuit Of Perfection

I have been a longtime 'lurker,' reading your column and myriad others for reviews and insight, and am finally financially ready to join the ranks with around $6-7000. As a military pilot, there are several complications I value for their utility in a day of flying, but I'm having a difficult time finding a piece that presents these in a package equally beautiful and legible.

A Moonwatch was an obvious choice but I prefer Arabic numerals, and every morning brief begins with a 'time hack,' so I would like a 'hacking' seconds hand. A GMT complication would pay daily dividends, and I find myself regularly checking the date window on my current wear . Finally, a chronograph would be useful, though I have trouble reconciling that with the want for a clean, uncluttered dial.

The Sinn 856 UTC is perhaps the best synthesis I've found, and though beautifully utilitarian, it becomes rather dull, looking like just another cockpit instrument. I find much more aesthetic stimulation in the IWC IW380902 with its white dial, crisp black markings, and a pop of red. It reminds me of the newer Rolex Air King with the Arabic minute markings and a subtle flash of color to add interest. However, even if it had a GMT function, I'm not sure it truly warrants a five-figure price tag.

Finally there's Bremont. Quality offerings, but at times too...obvious. The MB variants would be very acceptable in terms of features, layout, and intrigue, but as you have rightfully stated in a past column, some of the design cues are "a bit twee."

What other options are out there to satisfy my narrow parameters? Thank you kindly.

A chronograph with a GMT function, date, and Arabic numerals is indeed a difficult creature to find; you have mentioned that you find the complication useful but tending to produce a bit of dial clutter. If you want a chronograph with a GMT function, at the price range you have mentioned I honestly think Sinn offers a great deal – about half your maximum budget figure, very solid construction, and a plethora of options that fit all your criteria. The 358 and and 757 UTC seem to me both watches worthy of respect from a military man: solid kit that will not disappoint under difficult circumstances. Omega has a number of GMT chronographs in both the Speedmaster and Seamaster lines and of course, their non-chronograph GMT watches are well worth considering as well – again, as a pilot, I believe you will find the antimagnetic and other technology in Omega’s movements to make a very compelling argument from a technical standpoint, although I fear the absence of Arabic numerals may dissuade you from considering them .

I would ordinarily recommend that you simply get a Rolex GMT Master – however they are rarer than hen’s teeth, at the moment, and generally not available at retailers thanks to supply being greatly outstripped by demand; I would say that not for nothing are they strongly identified with aviation history. Perhaps the new Tudor Black Bay GMT would be worth a look, though again: no Arabics, unless you count the bezel. It is interesting – purpose-built tool watches in general seem to avoid Arabic numerals as primary dial markings. The Breguet Type XX GMT models may give us a hint as to why – they have all your requisites but indeed, the Arabic numerals contribute to making the dial rather more cluttered than it would be without them.

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from Style channel http://www.askmen.com/style/watch_snob/what-s-on-the-inside-counts-but-make-it-look-good.html

[blackhatseoguy]

SEO + UX = Success

this tool is not for amateurs newbies don't click this

In the good old days, SEO was simple. You stuffed a page full of keywords, and you ranked number one. Oh, if only it were that simple today! Now, Google (and the other search engines) literally take hundreds of factors into account when determining which pages rank high in search engine results pages (SERPs).

This new reality means that elements of user experience (UX) have been rolled into SEO best practices. How easy is your site to navigate? Do you have quality content that makes visitors want to stay and engage? Is your site secure, fast and mobile-friendly?

Think of the partnership of SEO and UX this way: SEO targets search engines, and UX targets your website’s visitors. Both share a common goal of giving users the best experience.

Here are some common website elements that impact both SEO and user experience.

Headings

Just as the headings of a printed work make it easier to find information, the headings of a web page make it easier for both visitors and search engine crawlers to understand and parse your content.

Headings (<h1>, <h2>, <h3>, <h4>, <h5> and <h6>) should tell the readers and search engines what the paragraphs/sections are about and show a logical hierarchy of the content. Headings also help users if they get lost on a page.

Only use one h1 tag on a page — that lets search engines and users know the page’s primary focus. H1s are normally the first piece of content on a page, placed near the top. (Think of h1s as the chapter title of a book.) Adding keywords toward the front of a heading can also help with rankings.

Other headers (h2 through h6) should follow h1s to structure and organize the rest of the page appropriately. The other headings can be used several times on a page, as long as it makes sense. You do not need to use all of them, either — sometimes your content may only need an h1 and some h2s.

Easy navigation and site structure

It may seem crazy that we’re still talking about easy site navigation… but we are. There are way too many sites out there that simply don’t get it. Your site structure is not only important for your users, but it’s your site’s roadmap for the search engines, too.

Remember that many of your visitors will not enter your site through your home page. This means that your site needs to be easy to navigate — no matter which page a searcher (or search engine crawler) lands on.

Your site’s navigation is not the place for fancy popups, a long list of options, hide-and-seek games or a place of dead ends where the user doesn’t know how to get back to another section of your site or get back to your home page.

Take a look at how healthcare giant Anthem’s menu overtakes the screen — on both desktop and mobile — when the menu is clicked:

With the menu literally filling the entire screen, a user can’t read the content that’s underneath the navigation. This creates a very poor user experience. When people are on mobile devices, chances are they won’t have the patience to deal with menus like this.

Additionally, a clean site navigation and structure can also lead to sitelinks appearing in Google search results. Sitelinks can help you take over more real estate on search engine result pages — which means less room for your competitors (and, hopefully, more clicks for you).

Google’s algorithm decides which sites get sitelinks (and which ones don’t). They base this decision largely on a site’s structure:

We only show sitelinks for results when we think they’ll be useful to the user. If the structure of your site doesn’t allow our algorithms to find good sitelinks, or we don’t think that the sitelinks for your site are relevant for the user’s query, we won’t show them.

User signals

I believe that user signals will increasingly become a more prominent factor in search engine rankings. Do you have Posts on Google My Business that visitors are clicking on? Are visitors on mobile devices using the click-to-call feature to dial your business? Are happy customers leaving five-star reviews for you — and are you responding to those reviews?

Although Google has denied that user signals such as time on site or bounce rate are direct ranking factors, studies have shown that there is a strong correlation between these signals and top rankings. Let’s put it this way: Google sees and knows everything. Every touch point and interaction your visitors have with you (and you have with them) shows Google that users are interested in and engaging with your content.

Site speed

Site speed has long been a ranking factor for Google search, and the company has even announced that mobile page speed (rather than desktop) will soon be used to determine this ranking factor. So not only is it important to have a website that loads quickly, but your mobile experience needs to be fast as well.

Google’s PageSpeed Insights tool allows you to enter your URL to see the issues your site might be having with mobile responsiveness. PageSpeed Insights measures how the page can improve its performance on both time to above-the-fold load and time to full page load and provides concrete suggestions for reducing page load time.

Amazingly, even the big sites with presumably large development and IT budgets have speed issues. See the poor results for the Harvard Business Review site:

Content-heavy and news sites should especially pay attention to site speed issues, since these sites are often viewed on mobile devices for the sake of convenience.

Mobile experience

When you think of “mobile experiences,” speed is definitely one consideration, but so is your mobile website as a whole — the look, feel, navigation, text, images and so forth.

Ever since Google released its mobile-friendly update in 2015, webmasters and SEOs have had to take “mobile-friendliness” into account as a ranking factor. And now, with the mobile-first index said to be coming in 2018, your mobile site will be considered your “main” website when Google’s algorithm is calculating rankings — thus making a good mobile experience all the more crucial.

Navigation is one of the most important components of a mobile experience — users and Google need to be able to find what they’re looking for quickly. Even button sizes and designs can impact user interaction on your mobile website. Every element on your mobile website impacts a user’s experience and directly (or indirectly) affects SEO as well.

In searching for an example of a local business’s mobile website, I found the one shown below. For this company’s mobile site, more than half of the above-the-fold real estate is taken up with meaningless information like huge logos and social media buttons. Plus, their menu is teeny-tiny and doesn’t even say “Menu” — it says “Go To…” and has the actual link to the menu to the far right-hand side. This does not make for a very user-friendly experience.

This company would be better off taking the clutter away from the top of the screen and making their menu, products and services more prominent for their mobile users.

Simple and smart design decisions like this will go a long way to making not only your visitors happy, but Google, too!

SEO and UX: A winning combination

Hopefully, you can see how SEO and UX go hand-in-hand in creating a successful website experience for both your human visitors and the search engines.

But what do you think? Do you think of your site’s users when you are creating content? How do you work with your design team to ensure that your site makes for a great mobile experience for your users? What is your balance between SEO factors and UX factors? We’d love to know!

This is another great pure SEO spam tool that still works in 2017

from BHSEO GUY's Feed http://ift.tt/2yVKtHT via IFTTT

[chrisabraham]

Improve your Google search results right now

Because so many people presumably make so much money “doing SEO,” there’s a lot of confusion as to what Search Engine Optimization is and all the little things that you can do right now, today, to improve your the results on your SERP — search engine results page. OK, let’s start:

Go Rewrite As Many Titles as You Have Time For Right Now: According to Moz, “Google typically displays the first 50-60 characters of a title tag. If you keep your titles under 60 characters, our research suggests that you can expect about 90% of your titles to display properly.” You should keep the titles concise, but also descriptive. Don’t be cute. All of my titles are cute and I waste them. Remember, all anybody knows about any of your pages — including Google’s spiders and bots — is the title of your pages.  So, if your title currently is Check Out My Latest Project you really should actually describe subject of the blog post or site page.

Don’t Let Google Define Your Page Descriptions for You — Do It Yourself: You don’t have to care about the description of your page. There’s two ways to get a little control: rewrite your first paragraph to describe what your page is about exactly the way journalists and reporters are supposed to, in the first paragraph. According to Moz, “Meta descriptions can be any length, but search engines generally truncate snippets longer than 160 characters. It is best to keep meta descriptions long enough that they’re sufficiently descriptive, but shorter than that 160-character limit.” So, if you don’t actually write a meta description, Google will always steal your first 160 characters. If your site allows you to write a summary or your page allows you to define a description, do it. And, if you come up with an excellent summary for your page, that description should include similar turns of phrase and keywords in both your title and your full content. And, if you really like your summary description, then please be sure to integrate it into your writing. Make it better, make it newer, and take it out of “archive,” which is what Google does if you don’t update your site’s content and copy every once in a while.

Add 500 Words to a Product or Service Page by COB: Over 90% of all the outdated, over-synthesized, or over-edited sites I have seen just don’t have enough text for Google to really get a handle on. Everybody’s trying to be so succinct. I blame the elevator speech for this. We’ve boiled our business plans and our visions and mission statements down so far — a réduction, if you will — that they’re worthless to both Google and to someone who actually wants to use your website — your corporate site, your only cornerstone, your online HQ, your Internet everything! Why are you keeping it so brief? Why are you being so sneaky? Why don’t you sit down, fire up a stogie, pour yourself a deep one, and let’s talk about who you are, what you really do, why you’ve been so inspired, and what your real and true capabilities are.  Like in long form. And, if all of this text and all these words break the aesthetics of your proper website, then be sure to share all of these cigar and rum moments on your blog or on a deeper, secondary page.

Links Keyword Phrases from Content Pages to About and Offerings Pages Immédiatement: You probably haven’t done the most effective thing you can do on your own site right now: every time you see a mention of your products, your services, or the names of your employees, executives, and cast of characters, you should hyperlink them all to the pages on which they live. For example, if I mention Mike Moran, I link him to his page here on Biznology; and, if I am doing this right, I will link my name, Chris Abraham, to my page here, as well. See, I also linked Biznology above.  See, it’s as easy as that. You should really do it.

Add ALT Text to All Your Photos and Images Right this Minute: All modern content management systems (CMS) have someplace to customize all the images on your site. Even if you don’t know how, ask your geek. If you still have your website designer on speed dial, maybe you can encourage your web designer or your template-developer to help you out. Most downloadable templates these days make it easy to associate words with photos and words with images. Now, baby we can do it take the time, do it right, we can do it, baby, do it tonight! Why didn’t your web developer do it? Laziness. It’s probably even in your contract. You didn’t care at the time. The more pretty images, the better. But now you need to care. Why? Because Google can only read — and index and return results for — text so if a lot of your site is made up of images and graphics and graphics of text (are you kidding me), then they’re all invisible to Google. You always need to look at your site as if you were blind or visually impaired.

Connect Your Site Immediately to Bing Webmaster Tools and Google Webmasters: You really should have done this already. Click me: Bing Webmaster Tools and Google Webmasters — also, if you don’t have an SEO tool for your site, look into Yoast SEO for Drupal or Yoast SEO for WordPress. They have the tools required to make it super-simple to make all the proper connections you need. Also, bonus points: Google Analytics.

Optimize Your Images If That’s Something You Can Easily Do Soon: Don’t assume that your CMS automagically takes your 4MB and 2MB and 10MB and 14MB(!)images and squishes them down from your crazy 8 megapixel cameraphone photos to images that are especially optimized for the web. All of your 5184 × 3456 pixel images really need to be brought down to 1600×800 pixels — or even smaller.  If you can’t get your images under control via your server or your CMS then you’re going to need to use Photoshop or something else. If your images are too big, your site will take too long to load; and, if you make your visitors’ experience shitty, then Google will tax you and your search results will suffer.

Get a Faster Web Hosting Company and Learn About Caching and CDNs: Google be taxing! If your site isn’t mobile native or friendly: TAX! If your images are huge and fat and take forever to load: TAX! And, if your site isn’t responsive in the “hand-off” between when someone clicks on your Google Search result, then TAX! Is all your JavaScript and CSS cluttering up the page (instead of actual content): TAX! So, you’ll need to spend some money on getting the fast server, the server with RAM and an SSD HD, super-close access to the Internet Backbone, with the ability to scale if you get a flood of visitors, or don’t get flooded if someone else on your shared server scores a sticky meme. More than the $3.95 that you’re spending now or the half-assed server setup that your CMS website service providers have you on (they need to make as much delta as possible, right, we’re capitalists, after all). And, even then, you need to learn about how to make your slow-ass database-backed websites, your WordPress or Drupal or whatever site, faster through caching. WordPress caching’s pretty easy. And then, since you can’t be in all places at once, a content delivery network (CDN) allows you to distribute your site and all its contents across the globe. I have sorted out how to use CloudFlare for free over on my “I don’t want to be fat, sick, and weak forever” blog, RNNR. Not only do CDNs help quicken up your site, they also make proximity to the server a non-issue. If your servers are in Northern California and someone’s checking out your site in London would need to burrow through MAE-East to get to it. But, with a CDN, presumably there’d be a working copy of RNNR somewhere in the UK. All of this is worth looking into. At least for SEO, at least for Google. Because, if all things are equal, then the speed, quickness, and responsiveness if your site is going to be the x-factor.

Write a Blog Post About Everything On Your Site As Soon As You Can: See what I am doing right now? You might thing that we’re doing all of this to help you. Naw, I am doing these blog posts once-a-week, on Biznology, for close to six years, for me and for my SEO and for Mike Moran and for his SEO. Do you like my posts? Yes? Good! Because Google loves engagement and popularity and visits and social shares and reshares and retweets.  I have been taking my own advice since 1999. I don’t do this for you, I don’t do this for Mike, I don’t do this for anyone besides as a burnt sacrifice and offering to the altar of Google Search.  You should start blogging. Not for me, not for fame, not to pursue your writer’s life, and not to scratch your mentor’s it, but for Google. To Google Be the Glory Forever and Ever, Amen. And, don’t start your blog in WordPress.com or on Medium.com or on Blogger/Blogspot, but on your own domain. Like, on Gerris Corp’s site, the blog post is gerriscorp.com/blog — you should do it like this.

Good luck. This should get you through today. Let me know if I missed anything down in the comments. I hope it’s useful for you. If you won’t do it, make me! I actually consult on SEO — check me out over on www.chrisabraham.com or email me at chris@gerriscorp.com.

Via Biznology

[chrisabraham]

Improve your Google search results right now

Because so many people presumably make so much money “doing SEO,” there’s a lot of confusion as to what Search Engine Optimization is and all the little things that you can do right now, today, to improve your the results on your SERP — search engine results page. OK, let’s start:

Go Rewrite As Many Titles as You Have Time For Right Now: According to Moz, “Google typically displays the first 50-60 characters of a title tag. If you keep your titles under 60 characters, our research suggests that you can expect about 90% of your titles to display properly.” You should keep the titles concise, but also descriptive. Don’t be cute. All of my titles are cute and I waste them. Remember, all anybody knows about any of your pages — including Google’s spiders and bots — is the title of your pages.  So, if your title currently is Check Out My Latest Project you really should actually describe subject of the blog post or site page.

Don’t Let Google Define Your Page Descriptions for You — Do It Yourself: You don’t have to care about the description of your page. There’s two ways to get a little control: rewrite your first paragraph to describe what your page is about exactly the way journalists and reporters are supposed to, in the first paragraph. According to Moz, “Meta descriptions can be any length, but search engines generally truncate snippets longer than 160 characters. It is best to keep meta descriptions long enough that they’re sufficiently descriptive, but shorter than that 160-character limit.” So, if you don’t actually write a meta description, Google will always steal your first 160 characters. If your site allows you to write a summary or your page allows you to define a description, do it. And, if you come up with an excellent summary for your page, that description should include similar turns of phrase and keywords in both your title and your full content. And, if you really like your summary description, then please be sure to integrate it into your writing. Make it better, make it newer, and take it out of “archive,” which is what Google does if you don’t update your site’s content and copy every once in a while.

Add 500 Words to a Product or Service Page by COB: Over 90% of all the outdated, over-synthesized, or over-edited sites I have seen just don’t have enough text for Google to really get a handle on. Everybody’s trying to be so succinct. I blame the elevator speech for this. We’ve boiled our business plans and our visions and mission statements down so far — a réduction, if you will — that they’re worthless to both Google and to someone who actually wants to use your website — your corporate site, your only cornerstone, your online HQ, your Internet everything! Why are you keeping it so brief? Why are you being so sneaky? Why don’t you sit down, fire up a stogie, pour yourself a deep one, and let’s talk about who you are, what you really do, why you’ve been so inspired, and what your real and true capabilities are.  Like in long form. And, if all of this text and all these words break the aesthetics of your proper website, then be sure to share all of these cigar and rum moments on your blog or on a deeper, secondary page.

Links Keyword Phrases from Content Pages to About and Offerings Pages Immédiatement: You probably haven’t done the most effective thing you can do on your own site right now: every time you see a mention of your products, your services, or the names of your employees, executives, and cast of characters, you should hyperlink them all to the pages on which they live. For example, if I mention Mike Moran, I link him to his page here on Biznology; and, if I am doing this right, I will link my name, Chris Abraham, to my page here, as well. See, I also linked Biznology above.  See, it’s as easy as that. You should really do it.

Add ALT Text to All Your Photos and Images Right this Minute: All modern content management systems (CMS) have someplace to customize all the images on your site. Even if you don’t know how, ask your geek. If you still have your website designer on speed dial, maybe you can encourage your web designer or your template-developer to help you out. Most downloadable templates these days make it easy to associate words with photos and words with images. Now, baby we can do it take the time, do it right, we can do it, baby, do it tonight! Why didn’t your web developer do it? Laziness. It’s probably even in your contract. You didn’t care at the time. The more pretty images, the better. But now you need to care. Why? Because Google can only read — and index and return results for — text so if a lot of your site is made up of images and graphics and graphics of text (are you kidding me), then they’re all invisible to Google. You always need to look at your site as if you were blind or visually impaired.

Connect Your Site Immediately to Bing Webmaster Tools and Google Webmasters: You really should have done this already. Click me: Bing Webmaster Tools and Google Webmasters — also, if you don’t have an SEO tool for your site, look into Yoast SEO for Drupal or Yoast SEO for WordPress. They have the tools required to make it super-simple to make all the proper connections you need. Also, bonus points: Google Analytics.

Optimize Your Images If That’s Something You Can Easily Do Soon: Don’t assume that your CMS automagically takes your 4MB and 2MB and 10MB and 14MB(!)images and squishes them down from your crazy 8 megapixel cameraphone photos to images that are especially optimized for the web. All of your 5184 × 3456 pixel images really need to be brought down to 1600×800 pixels — or even smaller.  If you can’t get your images under control via your server or your CMS then you’re going to need to use Photoshop or something else. If your images are too big, your site will take too long to load; and, if you make your visitors’ experience shitty, then Google will tax you and your search results will suffer.

Get a Faster Web Hosting Company and Learn About Caching and CDNs: Google be taxing! If your site isn’t mobile native or friendly: TAX! If your images are huge and fat and take forever to load: TAX! And, if your site isn’t responsive in the “hand-off” between when someone clicks on your Google Search result, then TAX! Is all your JavaScript and CSS cluttering up the page (instead of actual content): TAX! So, you’ll need to spend some money on getting the fast server, the server with RAM and an SSD HD, super-close access to the Internet Backbone, with the ability to scale if you get a flood of visitors, or don’t get flooded if someone else on your shared server scores a sticky meme. More than the $3.95 that you’re spending now or the half-assed server setup that your CMS website service providers have you on (they need to make as much delta as possible, right, we’re capitalists, after all). And, even then, you need to learn about how to make your slow-ass database-backed websites, your WordPress or Drupal or whatever site, faster through caching. WordPress caching’s pretty easy. And then, since you can’t be in all places at once, a content delivery network (CDN) allows you to distribute your site and all its contents across the globe. I have sorted out how to use CloudFlare for free over on my “I don’t want to be fat, sick, and weak forever” blog, RNNR. Not only do CDNs help quicken up your site, they also make proximity to the server a non-issue. If your servers are in Northern California and someone’s checking out your site in London would need to burrow through MAE-East to get to it. But, with a CDN, presumably there’d be a working copy of RNNR somewhere in the UK. All of this is worth looking into. At least for SEO, at least for Google. Because, if all things are equal, then the speed, quickness, and responsiveness if your site is going to be the x-factor.

Write a Blog Post About Everything On Your Site As Soon As You Can: See what I am doing right now? You might thing that we’re doing all of this to help you. Naw, I am doing these blog posts once-a-week, on Biznology, for close to six years, for me and for my SEO and for Mike Moran and for his SEO. Do you like my posts? Yes? Good! Because Google loves engagement and popularity and visits and social shares and reshares and retweets.  I have been taking my own advice since 1999. I don’t do this for you, I don’t do this for Mike, I don’t do this for anyone besides as a burnt sacrifice and offering to the altar of Google Search.  You should start blogging. Not for me, not for fame, not to pursue your writer’s life, and not to scratch your mentor’s it, but for Google. To Google Be the Glory Forever and Ever, Amen. And, don’t start your blog in WordPress.com or on Medium.com or on Blogger/Blogspot, but on your own domain. Like, on Gerris Corp’s site, the blog post is gerriscorp.com/blog — you should do it like this.

Good luck. This should get you through today. Let me know if I missed anything down in the comments. I hope it’s useful for you. If you won’t do it, make me! I actually consult on SEO — check me out over on www.chrisabraham.com or email me at chris@gerriscorp.com.

Via Biznology