#I’m super excited! Looks like I’m going to have a much wider range of teachers and classmates

[rotzaprachim]

Forgot to say but looks like my requests to return to university and study theology have been approved!

[illegal-spiegel]

Can We Kiss Now?

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x gn!reader Genre: fluff Warnings: none Summary: there’s a big misunderstanding between you and your best friend on Valentine’s Day but you eventually sort it out  Word Count: 2.8k words Prompt #24: “Okay, we all get it. You’re in love with me. Can we kiss now?”

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The fateful day finally happened. 

Shinso was let into the hero course and not only that, he was put into class 1A. You swear you had never seen him smile more in your life. Well, that is until the day you two finally started dating after dancing around each other for months. The way it happened still makes you laugh and tease Shinso relentlessly, it never seeming to get old for you. 

His first day in class 1A was chaotic, to say the least. Everyone was super friendly towards him, to his surprise. Especially Iida. The guy was so nice when he was introducing everyone, offering him to sit with him at lunch, and making sure that Shinso never fell behind with his studies. It made you want to be a better person too. 

“Hi, I’m (Y/n). It’s nice to meet the infamous Shinso,” you say playfully while offering him your hand to shake. He looks up from something he’s writing to look at you, his, almost bored, eyes seeming to light up a fraction more. 

He shakes your hand, a lazy smile gracing his handsome features. “Nice to meet the infamous (Y/n). I’ve heard quite a bit about you, you know,” he informs. You smile brighter than before, letting his hand go to lean against the desk next to his. 

“I hope all good things,” you reply, making him chuckle and set down his pencil. 

“Mostly,” he teases. You hum and look around at your classmates, finding most of them up and talking to others while waiting for your teacher to show up. 

“Well, if you heard anything from Kaminari, ignore him. Everything that came from him is a lie,” you joke, knowing Kaminari would never talk badly about anyone. Shinso huffs a laugh before a smirk suddenly crawls onto his face. 

“What if he said you’re cute?” he argues, raising a brow up at you. Your eyes widen at this, a blush instantly starting to spread across your face. 

“Why that little—” you start before stopping from Shinso laughing. 

“I’m just pulling your leg,” he reassures, making you puff out your cheeks before letting all of the air in your lungs go. 

“You jerk,” you insult jokingly, tapping your foot against his leg. He hums and smiles at you, his eyes giving you a once over before turning to look back at his paperwork. 

“Say, do you think you could help me with this? We hadn’t learned this yet in my class,” he asks softly, making you perk up and push off the desk. 

“Oh, sure. I can try,” you sweetly reply as you come to stand by his desk now, looking over what he was working on. From there you helped him to the best of your ability, smiles and laughs being shared between you two every once in a while. 

And that’s how your friendship first formed. You two ended up getting closer and closer, soon becoming best friends and being practically inseparable. It stayed that way for a while. That is until February came around. 

Going to school on Valentine’s day kind of annoyed you. You were surrounded by chocolates, flowers, stuffed animals, cards, you name it. All the couples, new and old ones alike, are always all over each other and this year, it just reminds you that your crush doesn’t like you. 

Yeah, it didn’t take you long to fall for the sarcastic male with a terrible sleeping schedule. The girls and some of the guys in your class always tried to reassure you that he likes you back but you just never saw it. Despite knowing what you think about it, they tease you both relentlessly. You don’t really mind it but Shinso seems to get annoyed by it? Or maybe irritated? You aren’t sure. He always has this far away look on his face whenever it happens. 

You walk into the room to see goody bags on everyone’s desk, a smile coming to your face. You checked the sticker on it to see that it was from most of the girls in the class. They each added their own personal touch to the bag. You noticed that you got more candy than the others though, making your smile grow wider. You thank them and pop a sweet into your mouth after taking your seat, starting to look around the room. 

Kaminari seems to be nervous, despite his bragging that he was going to nail a date today. You follow his jittery gaze to Jiro, a smirk coming to your face. Saw that one coming. You hope he asks her out, knowing that she likes him back. 

From there, you continue to look around the room, seeing some looking tired and annoyed while others are blushing and holding gifts. It’s nice to see that some people are enjoying the holiday. 

Just as class is about to start, Shinso comes in and takes his seat. You wanted to say hi to him before class started but you didn’t have time to do it now. Oh well, you’ll talk to him at lunch. 

When the bell rang signaling lunch, you got out of your chair and stretched your limbs. You then turned towards Shinso’s desk, only to find him gone. You look around the room, wondering if he went to go ask Iida a question about the homework, only to find him nowhere in the room. Your brows furrow as a pout comes onto your face, a small sigh escaping you as you head out of the classroom to head to the cafeteria. After finding a seat and starting to eat, you find that Shinso isn’t in your usual spot, and after further examination, he wasn’t even in the cafeteria. 

Where did he go? Is he having lunch on the roof? Was he not feeling well so he went back to the dorms? Or maybe he’s in the nurse’s office? Question after question swirled through your mind but with no answers, you felt a little bummed. You perked up though when the three musketeers sat down with you. 

“Hey, (Y/n)! Where’s Shinso?” Deku asks as he sits next to Uraraka. You look between the two, hoping that Deku will ask her out soon. Uraraka had been telling you yesterday that she hopes he gives her a flower or something. You’ll have to ask her how that went. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. 

Uraraka raises her brow at you when you say that, her big eyes showing you just how confused she is. “Wait, really? But you two are practically always together. You both have like a sixth sense to always know where the other is,” she says half playfully, starting to dig into her noodles once she finishes speaking. 

You smile a bit at her teasing but shrug your shoulders, still trying to think of where he could’ve run off to. “Yeah, I’m not sure where he went. The bell rang and when I turned to his desk, he was gone,” you explain. You look down at your own food, missing the look the three shoot each other. 

“I’m sure he just went to the library or something,” Iida reassures, sending you that kind smile of his. You can’t help but return it, slowly nodding your head with a sigh to let out your nerves. 

“I know. You’re right.” You let it go for now, deciding to just enjoy your lunch with your friends. When you four make it back to class, Shinso is sitting at his desk eating his lunch. You frown as you break away from the three to go over to your best friend. 

“Hey. Why are you eating your lunch in here?” you ask worriedly. Is he mad at you? Did you do something? He looks up from his lunch for a split second before focusing back down on it again. 

“I forgot my lunch at the dorms, so I just went back to go get it,” he explains. The frown still hangs heavy on your face, your arms crossing over your chest. 

“Why didn’t you join us in the cafeteria after getting it then?” you pry further. This time, he doesn’t look at you, merely chewing on his lunch instead of answering you. Just as he swallows, the bell rings. You huff out a puff of air before leaving his desk to go to yours. The rest of the day seems to drag on, boredom covering every crevice of your mind. 

That and Shinso. 

You just couldn’t figure out why he was acting so weirdly. That’s when it hit you. 

Is he going to ask someone out? Is he acting weird because he’s nervous? Or maybe that’s where he ran off to at lunch, to ask them out. But he seems so down. Did he get turned down? Or maybe they agreed and they said that they didn’t want him hanging around you anymore.

Your gut twists at the thought, your hands starting to shake a bit from how much you’re worrying. Is he going to stop being your friend? You can handle not being his but you at least want to be friends with him. You almost feel sick to your stomach, your entire body slouching in your chair as you stare blankly down at your desk. 

When school finally came to an end, everyone rushed out of the school with excitement. As you walked down the hallway, you heard chatter of who asked who out and where so and so is going to go for their date. You just stare at your shoes, your back starting to hurt from all the slouching you’re doing. 

“Hey, why didn’t you wait for me?” you hear a familiar voice say from behind and then beside you. You pick your head up to see Shinso, his brows furrowed together a bit as he hefts his bag further up his shoulder. 

“Why didn’t you have lunch with me?” you fire right back, your eyes staring into his. He’s shocked by your surprise, his mouth dropping open for a moment. 

“What? (Y/n)—”

“Look. I get it. I just wish you would’ve told me.” You just reach the dorms, letting him come to a stop. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not beside you and following you inside the dorms. You stop now as well to turn back and face him, raising your brow at him. 

“You know what’s going on?” he asks, disappointment filling his tone and features. You scoff at this, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah, I do. Don’t look so disappointed,” you snap before spinning around to continue walking away. You hear his feet scurry to catch up to you, his eyes wide when you glance at him. 

“Sorry. I just wanted to be the one to tell you. Who told you?” he asks softly, a sigh escaping him. You ground your teeth together, getting angrier by the second. 

“No one did. It wasn’t hard to figure out. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me,” you hiss. He stays quiet for a moment before letting out another sigh, a hand coming up to drag his hand through his hair. 

“I was going to today. I guess I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry,” he says weakly. You turn to look at him again, a sigh leaving you now.

“Look, it’s fine,” you reassure, sending him the best smile that you can manage at the moment. Your crush just confirmed your worst nightmare but he’s your best friend, so you’re determined to be here for him. You wonder who it is. He smiles right back at you though, some color seeming to fill his cheeks as he reaches out to take your hand. 

You stop at the door and pull your hand away, your brows knitted together as you stare at him. “What are you doing?” you ask, showing him just how muddled you are. He tenses up at this, realization seeming to dawn on him. 

“Oh, sorry. I just thought that since you knew how I felt that you…” he starts before trailing off, his face a dark color. You didn’t think that it was possible to be this lost. 

“Thought that I what? Wanted to hold your hand after you just told me that you like someone else?” you ask for clarification. When you say this though, his jaw drops as he stares at you with an unreadable expression. 

“What?” is all he says back to you, continuing to just stare on and leaving you bewildered. He’s starting to look just as you feel though. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” you ask, wishing he would just spit out what he’s thinking. He suddenly sucks in a deep breath and can’t seem to make eye contact with you, his face darker than Kirishima’s hair. 

“(Y/n), I, um…” he says clearly before mumbling things, making you sigh. 

“What was that? You started mumbling and I couldn’t understand you.” 

“I really, uh…” he tries again before just doing the same thing as before. At this point, you’re starting to get a little annoyed. 

“Shinso, just say whatever it is you have to say,” you say as calmly as you can. He goes quiet, staring at your shoes instead of meeting your eyes. Instead of saying anything though, he tugs his backpack off and unzips it. He tugs out a stuffed animal and some candy, silently handing it to you with slightly shaky hands. 

You slowly take it, wondering why he’s giving you this stuff. He doesn’t say anything to you though, leaving you in the dark about what’s happening. It takes a few seconds but it finally hits you what he’s trying to do. 

He’s trying to confess. 

And he’s failing miserably, but you find it so cute that you can’t help but smile. A blush comes across your face but with his head down, he can’t see your smile or blush. Deciding to tease him further, you drop the smile and bring out your best acting skills. 

“What’s this? Do you want my opinion on whether to give it to the person you like or not?” you ask, it taking everything in you to not laugh or grin. You decide to head in now since the wind is picking up, leaving Shinso to wordlessly follow behind you. 

“What? No! It’s…” he trails off again, a smile coming to your face since your back is to him. You look at the people sitting in the common area, shooting them a wink before turning to face Shinso again. 

“It’s just what?” you ask, wanting him to think that you’re beyond confused. He sighs, starting to get angry. At himself, you’re assuming. 

“It’s...I just...I want…” He starts before trying again, deciding to change his sentence over and over again. You can tell he’s attempting to find the courage to say the words that you want to hear but you can also tell that he’s scared of rejection. 

You can see why though. All his life people have been scared of him and assumed that he was going to end up being a villain. All he’s ever been is rejected. That is until he came to class 1A and became friends with you and the others. You sigh and walk over to him, starting to feel bad for dragging this on for so long.

“Okay, we all get it. You’re in love with me. Can we kiss now?” you joke, shooting him a smile. He snaps his head up at you, his jaw hanging so far open that it’s practically touching the floor. 

“You knew?” he asks confusedly before gasping and pointing at you, “You knew!” He glares at you now, a pout coming onto his lips. You giggle and walk over to him, cautiously wrapping your arms around his neck with a warm smile. 

“It took me a while but I eventually figured it out. Now, where’s my kiss?” He huffs and tries to look mad at you but even he can’t deny the overwhelming joy he’s starting to feel. When his lips connect with yours, the people that are in the dorms start to cheer and wolf whistle, causing both of you to blush as you pull away. 

“Take me on a date,” you command, a big smile on your face. He snorts a bit as he raises a brow at you, pulling away to gently take ahold of your hand. 

“Aren’t you supposed to ask for me to take you on a date? Or better yet, why don’t you ask me on a date?” You scoff at his reply, starting to drag him right back the way you two came. 

“In your dreams, lover boy,” you tease before giving him another quick kiss.

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[basicjetsetter]

Part I

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Mild Language, Triggering Content

▹ Words: 4.6k

▹ A/N: Buckle in. This is going to be a long ride.

“No way!” Your friend Manda squeals. “Those were the exact words?!”

You smoosh a frantic hand over Manda’s mouth and shush her, then slightly pop up from your seat to scope out the packed bus, making sure none of your schoolmates heard her outburst. To your relief, only a few close students glance over with little interest and barely anyone in a wider radius catches Manda’s words over the buzzing clammer of other conversations. Blowing out a satisfied exhale, you turn back to your friend, removing your hand from her mouth with a teasingly reproachful frown. 

“Tell the whole world, why don’t you?” 

She giggles, “My bad. But can you blame me? This is huge!”

Thrilled warmth floods into your cheeks from her enthusiasm. She’s right. This is huge, and you might have secretly sought this exact reaction because only Manda’s trademark, earsplitting squeal stamps news with the seal of authenticity. It’s real. You heard your Destined Words.

The same jitters from when you woke up this morning skitter up and down your spine, sharpening your senses to the max, making it easier to recall the words that floated into your subconscious—words from a bodiless voice. Your Soulmate.

I’ve got you.

Your mind handles the precious words like a porcelain tea set, carefully deciphering the voice pitch and attempting to match it to a face, knowing its efforts lie in vain because the words’ owner only becomes apparent when they speak them to you.

Some inner part of you distinctly translates the words into a comforting assurance, an assurance one might receive after coming home from a long day’s work and walking into the soft embrace of a lover. It weaves itself around your mind like a consoling safety net, painting an image of a lover better than you’ve ever imagined and everything you’ve ever hoped for.

You couldn’t have hand-picked a better day than today, Midtown High’s field trip to the MoMA, to gush over the words with Manda while admiring spectacular, thought-provoking art pieces. One of the perks of going to Midtown High is their fantastic field trips. You circled this Friday on your calendar at the start of the semester because while you loved being in a school centered around technological sciences, you were excited to study artists’ colorful, eclectic expressions and how their cultural personalities materialize in the stroke of a paintbrush.

“You’re so lucky,” Manda says, trying to pull off a pout. Her vibrant smile triumphs. “Only three days after you turn eighteen, and you hear your Destined Words. I’ve got four more months before I file a complaint.”

You sympathetically rub her shoulder, her oversized, long-sleeved denim jacket rough to the touch. “It’ll come. Just don’t wait for it.”

“Oh, I know it’s coming. I just want it to be something as cute as yours, you know.” She shudders, “My cousin Alonzo said his Destined Words were ‘Sure, whatever.’ Can you imagine that? Finally being mature enough for your Soulmate and that’s the first thing they say to you? I mean, sure, he and Tanya are super cute together, but ugh. Those words?”

You snicker, “Let me guess. You’re expecting a grand gesture?”

Manda nods with a dead serious face, though she could never truly pull it off with her full lips and Cabbage Patch Doll cheeks. She’d have a better chance at getting away with murder than intimidating someone with her cute little frown. “If I don’t hear the words ‘Where have you been all my life, you breathtaking, drop-dead gorgeous goddess,’ then I’m demanding a full refund.”

You blankly stare at each other for a beat before you crack, both of you laughing until your sides ache and you’re gasping for air, not caring for the teachers' hushes from the front of the bus.

“I just can’t believe I finally hear the words, you know,” you say as the laughs fade. “It’s like a fairytale come true.” You lean your head against the cool glass window, watching the placid cerulean waves come into view as the bus drives onto a bridge. “I wonder what they’re like, if I know them. If they’re nice. My mom says she already had a mega crush on my dad, so when he said the words, it already felt like they were together.”

Manda sighs dreamily. “I bet they’re cute. And super smart. Those words seem kind of thoughtful, too, so that’s a bonus. And, hey, don’t worry so much.” She gently knocks her shoulder against yours. “They’re going to love you.”

You weren’t scared that they wouldn’t love you. Everyone who finds their Soulmate never doubts that that is their person. What pins a tiny knot of anxiety to the pit of your stomach is how it will happen.

As a young girl, you spent countless nights dreaming of the sequential events leading up to the day you finally met your Soulmate, orchestrating the moment like a scene from all the rom-coms you binged. Your person accidentally bumps into you either in a hallway or on the bus or in the lunch-line, gazes deep into your dazed eyes, then declares their love for you with some cliché phrase before scooping you into their arms and planting a kiss on your expectant lips.

I’ve got you.

The sweet words drifting in your head do their best to ease away the anxiety. You have nothing to worry about. The meeting will play out the way you fantasized, if not better. All because of those words.

“We’re all gonna die!” Ned Leeds shouts from the middle of the bus.

All heads snap to the right windows. In an instant, densely packed bodies swarm from the left side to the right, sandwiching together to search for what Ned was staring at, some opening the windows and craning their necks for a better look. You grunt as someone digs their elbow in your ribcage to see more, and you tensely shove them against the back of the seats in front of you before peering out of your window.

It’s a sight no eyes could miss. A large, metal donut levitates in the clear sky, an obstruction not there mere seconds ago. You gasp in wonder, but not fear. Surely, the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes, will have this taken care of before the sun sets.

The bus driver, an old man with a smile as sly as a fox and pearly white hair, casually calls out, “What’s the matter with you kids?! You’ve never seen a spaceship before?”

“He’s got a point,” you shrug as Manda gapes at the driver with incredulous eyes, then rounds on you as you calmly sit back down. “We always get so worked up over these aliens, and nothing ever really happens. The Avengers got it handled.”

“You sure? Because that looks a little menacing.” Manda worries at her lower lip, anxiously sneaking peeks out the window. Many students stay plastered to the scene.

���Positive.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

The appearance of the metal donut effectively sullies your experience of the MoMA. None of the tour guides thoroughly explain the paintings' and sculptures' meanings or historical relevance. Instead, they string together incoherent sentences about person, place, and time as they gape at the video feeds live-streamed to their phones. Even Manda stays glued to her screen, chewing on her lower lip so hard you're surprised she hasn't punctured it.

Fifteen minutes into the tour, aggravation chafes into you like sandpaper, rubbing your skin raw. You waited months for this trip. Months! You'd be damned if a few pesky aliens took this special day away from you. You weren’t afraid. You had no reason to be.

Fed up, you take matters into your own hands and stealthily break away from the group, tip-toeing back to an intriguing wall of paintings and observe it by yourself. 

One painting catches your eye early, drawing you to the middle of the wall to study it further. Its tag reads The Lovers, René Magritte, Paris, 1928, Surrealism, Oil Painting. There are two people, a man and a woman, painted with white cloths shrouding their faces as they share a seemingly intimate kiss. You lean in closer, noting the almost murky atmosphere and how it lends to the mystery of the kiss. What did Magritte want you to think when you analyzed this piece? What questions did she want you to ask? 

You derive two: Is love mysterious and complicated as the atmosphere suggests, or is it intuitive and straightforward as the veiled lovers suggest? And, would the love still be the same once they lift the veils?

Beep. Beep. Beep. All the phones in hearing range chime out three urgent trills, nearly ejecting your soul out of your body. Clearing your head with a shake, you pull your phone out of your back pocket. You don't even have to unlock it. The news alert flashes up like a hazard light. Tony Stark Missing.

You blink. What the hell is going on?

"Are you seeing this?" Manda whispers, sidling up to your side.

You nod, at a loss for words. Iron Man is missing? How? What happened? Did it have something to do with the metal donut? 

You blink harder and take another long look at the notification, hoping it was a typo or missing a few words, words like Tony Stark Missing Iron Man Suit. Hell, even Tony Stark Missing Cheeseburgers. Anything but what's on your screen.

Somewhere in the background, Mrs. Kramer, your Art teacher, roll-calls the students to the front entrance. "Okay, guys, time to cut the field trip short."

Your shoulders sag. This can't be happening. Is it really that serious?

"Peter? Peter?" Mr. Dell calls out, clenching onto a clipboard with shaking hands. "Has anybody seen Parker? Peter Parker?" he inquired, looking over the students' heads. A bead of sweat gathers on his forehead, even though there is virtually no heat in the building, and it's a breezy, 72-degree late-spring afternoon in New York City. "Where does this kid always sneak off to?"

Ned stuttered out, "He, uhm, Pe-Peter left early, sir. Family emergency."

"An emergency? Was it so important he couldn't at least notify the supervisors?" Ned bobbed his head up and down, keeping his eyes stapled to the floor in a manner that hinted at no further comment. Mr. Dell huffs, "Alright. But he's getting detention, and I have half a mind to put you in there with him, Leeds."

Ned's face screws up in a chastised grimace. "Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again."

Your eyes linger on Ned as he pulls out his phone and rapidly taps at the screen, probably sending a strongly worded text to his best friend, rebuking Peter for roping him into his antics and nearly earning him a week's detention. You don't know much about their friendship, but they appear tied to the hip at school. 

Ned's a nice guy. Reliant to a tee. You had the pleasure of partnering with him on an art project in Kramer's class a few weeks back, spending a considerable amount of time joking while diligently rendering an interpretation of Van Gogh's A Starry Night on a five-by-five foot canvass. During that time, he often complimented your paint-smeared overalls and your hair's ever-changing up-dos. He seemed like such a great friend to have.

Peter, on the other hand, is a tough nut to crack.

You only ever shared one class with Peter Parker. Spanish last semester. You remember him being too antsy for your liking, always checking his watch impatiently, answering questions too fast, bouncing his leg up and down, acting like he had someplace better to be and better things to do. His impatience never made sense to you until you heard some girls in the locker-room whispering about his Stark internship and how lucky he was to be working for the Tony Stark. 

When the internship suddenly halted, and Peter landed himself in the longest detention sentence you'd ever heard of, you started to take more notice of him only because he was around more often. He was sort of cute in a boy-next-door kind of way with his science pun tee-shirts and smooth, tousled brown hair. For a brief time, you fleetingly considered asking him to Homecoming, but the futility of such a question wasn't lost on you. He noticeably crushed on Liz Toomes, and you were confident Peter's pining for her meant destiny twined their paths.

But Liz is gone now, and there's a growing 90 percent chance Peter's set his sights on MJ. Brooding quirky girl ending up with boy-next-door, now that match made perfect sense, just like a rom-com, or even better, an 80's teen romance.

Manda tugs on your arm, her hands forming a shackle around your wrist. "Come on. They're getting back on the bus without us."

Sure enough, you two were nearly the last ones in the entrance, the remaining students filing out of the door. You rush after them and reach the bus doors right before they shut, huffing in unison. Manda doubles over and grasps her knees, heaving.

"Here," you gasp. "We're here."

Your driver tuts, swinging the doors back open. "Good thing you two made it in time. This bus waits for no one, not even me. Come on," he says, waving you inside. "Let's get this show on the road."

You trudge back to your designated seats, collapsing against the plastic covering as the adrenaline subsides, replaced with the forgotten dread of the trip's abrupt end. You lean over and peer out the left side windows when the bus rolls over the bridge again, surprise rattling ominously over your bones as you find the metal donut gone from the sky.

Where did it go? Did the Avengers get rid of it?

Your hand still clamps your phone. An annoying, slight tremble in your hands trips up your fingers as they try to type in your passcode, but you succeed on the fourth try. You scroll through your social media, hoping beyond hope that someone captured the Avengers' victory or something close to a victory, something that proves the news headline wrong. Stark's probably lying low, too beat down to show his face to the press.

The far-fetched lie makes you internally flinch. You don't know much about the guy, but you're more than a thousand percent sure Stark wouldn't hide from the press if he won anything.

A sinking horror clogs your chest as you obsessively watch clip after clip, onlookers recording some unconscious guy in a red cape being invisibly bound and trailing after the commanding hand of an elongated, greyish-blue alien. Spider-Man tries to get the red-caped guy back, swinging through the city and dodging billboards, his webs clinging to the departing ship's underside, Iron Man flying into the sky after them.

It’s bad. Oh, sweet heavens, it’s bad.

Maybe it’s not that much of a big deal. Yeah. Yeah, it’s probably nothing. The end of the videos suggested the Avengers gained the upper hand on the fight, so maybe, just maybe, the alien was fleeing—fleeing… with a captive. Hurtling off into God knows where with Iron Man and Spider-Man onboard.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. 

Your back flattens to your seat and your unseeing eyes meld to your phone, the thunderous beats of your heart stifling the rest of the world into silence. The air is thinning. 

Your ears are buzzing. 

A vice clenches your chest.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. 

The dubious mantra and vague words of your Soulmate blend into an all-consuming cacophony of words, gelling together in a chant of solace. 

It’s fine. I’ve got you. It’s fine. I’ve got you. It’s fine.

By the time the bus drops off the students at Midtown and you and Manda quietly walk in the direction of home, the mixture of affirmations fans away the panic settling around your chest, bringing back a semblance of your earlier confidence, or rather, what was left of it, which wasn't much.

Outside the apartment complex, an overwhelming amount of residents’ windows glow, most of them probably stuck to their couch, replaying the recent events on any major news network and speculating the whereabouts of our mightiest heroes.

It takes a while to dawn on you that you and Manda are the only ones standing outside. On the entire block.

Nothing stirs. Even the bodega on the corner appears closed for the day.

It's five o'clock on a Friday afternoon and there’s plenty of light left.

Emptiness pours out of every alley like ink spilling from a broken bottle, blotting the whole surface of the street with the absence of human activity. A tree's rustling leaves are so startling your breath locks up and you jump. Manda doesn't say anything, recovering from the sudden noise herself.

Leaving the deserted streets behind, you and Manda glumly walk up the steps of your apartment complex and up to your residence on the third floor. The apartment is eerily silent as you toss your keys on the kitchen counter and lock the door behind Manda.

"When are your folks getting back from their honeymoon again?" asks Manda, shrugging out of her jacket and toeing off her sneakers, leaving them propped against the wall by the door.

Habit controls your body as you open the fridge, grab two Sprites, set them down on the counter, then reach for the half-finished bucket of Red Vines from the top cabinet shelf. "Sunday morning, I think. They only have the weekend off. Want some pizza? I can call up Joe's."

"Please and thank you," she says, plopping down on the couch. The old thing croaks, its springs wheezing under the unwelcomed weight.

The maroon monstrosity is a family heirloom, dating back to your grandparents' time. Mom loves it, claiming it adds the right amount of character to the drab living space, knowing fully well that anyone with fashion sense would never describe any space she inhabits as drab. Dad is adamant that it's one spill away from handing in its resignation.

Picking up your house phone, you confirm, "Extra-large cheese and olives?"

You don't know why you ask. Ever since the inception of your infamous best friend "crash-overs," cheese and olive pizza starred as the staple meal: that, and a bucket of Red Vines your dad occasionally steals from. Maybe you asked for normalcy or maybe to confirm Manda's plan to stay for the rest of the night. What you do know is you don’t want to be alone.

She hums a distracted yes, turning on the TV and upping the volume to listen to Channel 10's news reporter recount the fight between Iron Man and the alien.

Though already burned in your memory, the images douse your body in bone-chilling fear.

You turn your back and dial in the order, not at all surprised that Joe's is still up and running. Once the employee confirms your order and promises a speedy delivery, you grab the drinks and candy and place them on the coffee table, ignoring the TV.

"C-can you turn it to something else?" you quickly pipe up as you sit next to Manda, unsuccessfully hiding the tremor in your words. "I don't think I can stomach the news right now."

"Yeah, sure." Slow and reluctant, Manda switches the input and goes into Netflix. "Anything you wanna watch?"

"Teen Wolf."

Manda groans, "Again? We've seen that a million times."

"Oh, come on," you groan back, playfulness strained in your words. "It's a classic. You can't say no to a classic."

She gives you a dour frown, one that still couldn't land an inch of seriousness on her amber-colored cherub cheeks, until she relents from the weight of your puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, but only because of Michael J. Fox. Next time, I'm picking."

Neither of you really pay attention to the movie or touch the pizza when it arrives. In fact, for most of the night, Manda scrolls through her social media, watching what you can only assume are today’s events. Sometimes she’d put the phone down when you politely asked, but it unfailingly ended up right back in her hands, so after a while, you stop asking. When the movie’s end credits roll around, and you dress into your pajamas, put away the remaining slices of pizza, and call it a night, both of you climb into your bed. She is still scrolling.

You try and force yourself into REM sleep, keeping your eyes shut until you hear Manda’s heavy breathing beside you. The clock on your nightstand reads 9:53 p.m.

Yawning, you curl up into a tight ball on your side of the bed and wish your mom and dad were here to help you get out of your head. Manda can’t do it when she’s so caught up in hers, and you don’t think you’d be able to tell her how scared you are. It’d only scare her more.

Tony Stark is missing. Manda would have screeched her head off by now if anything changed.

I’ve got you.

Yeah, but Tony Stark, the freaking Iron Man, is missing.

I’ve got you.

You can’t possibly understand how bad this is.

I’ve got you.

You audibly huff against the reassuring words, but they eventually do the trick in temporarily pushing the worry away, allowing you to fitfully slip into dreamless oblivion.

Seven hours later, you wake to a text from your mom. The sunlight is so bright in your room you lower your phone’s brightness all the way down, squinting at the small letters.

-Coming home early bbygrl. Dad says hi and he misses you lots hunny bun. xx

A titanic-sized weight lifts off of your shoulders—something you hadn’t even known was there until you re-read your mom’s text and verify the timestamp.

They’re on their way home, where it’s safe and you can all keep an eye on each other. Niagara Falls is just a six and a half-hour drive from here and Mom texted two hours ago, so they’ve got a couple hundred miles left. You don’t care about the distance. As long as they’re coming home, you’re fine. You can wait.

The morning’s activities in your residence pass into a weird déjà vu of last night. Manda is awake before you, sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in her lap and the TV turned on to Channel 10, the volume slightly lower from last night. A bit peeved, you ask her to switch it to some cartoons while you pour yourself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

She goes back to scrolling on her phone, sparingly taking bites of her soon-turned soggy cereal. You perch on the arm of the couch, far away from Manda's screen, and munch on your cereal in silence. This whole situation sucks enough without Manda’s constant doom-scrolling, but her utter silence is wearing your nerves thin.

Three full episodes of SpongeBob play on before you heave tempered sigh and set your finished bowl of cereal on the table and face Manda.

“Do you have to do that?”

She doesn’t even spare you a glance. “Do what?”

Unbidden anger flows through you like magma spewing from a freshly erupted volcano, flaming into your veins and flaring your heart rate as you yank her phone away and toss it behind the couch.

Manda stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. She may be partially right.

“Why the hell did you do that?”

You scoff, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe I like talking to my friend once in a while. Maybe it’s mentally damaging to watch the same thing over and over and over again, and I was just trying to save you from brain rot.” You stand up and cross your arms over your chest, letting the rage propel your words. “Seriously Manda, give it a damn rest.”

“Why?” Manda crosses her arms too, glowering up at you, close to achieving a convincing frown. “Because you’re ‘positive’ nothing’s going to happen, right? It’s just aliens. No prob.”

You hold your tongue, waiting for her to air out all her frustrations because she’s right. She’s right to throw your words back at you. Yesterday morning you were totally sure of the Avengers, and not much has changed. You still firmly believe they’ll win whatever this fight is with the aliens, but you know scrolling through your phone for updates won’t do anything but boost your anxiety, like it’s doing to Manda.

When you think the coast is clear to speak, you lowly say, “I get it.”

“You get it? You get it? No, mama, you don’t get it. Because, see, if you got it, my phone wouldn’t be collecting dust behind your couch!”

“You needed a break, Amanda!” You shout back at her. “That phone’s never left your hand since you got here.”

She snaps her fingers as if she reached an epiphany. “Attention. That’s what it is. I haven’t given you enough attention today and you’re feeling left out of the spotlight. Newsflash, hon, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Other things are happening besides you hearing your Destined Words.”

“Wh-what?” you balk. “That… no, that’s not what this is about.” You’re not even sure where she even came up with the conclusion that you needed something as stupid as attention right now. Did she think you were that self-centered?

She cocks her eyebrow challengingly, “Alright, then tell me what it is. I’m all ears.”

“Me hearing my freaking soulmate has nothing to do with this! Nothing! And I’m not some attention-starved lunatic. Christ, Manda,” you roll your eyes, letting your hands fall with a slap against your sides. “It’s about you watching the news all day like… like this is the end of the world or something. We’ve gone through this. New York has gone through this. Alien attacks are nothing new, and I’m tired so sick and tired of you…”

You slow down, raising a soft hand to your chest—strange, tugging sensations sprout somewhere deep, deep down within you. So deep you're not sure it's actually there.

“Sick and tired of me what? What?” Manda pressed, the almost-frown lessening as your head tilts. “What’s wrong?”

You gradually shake your head. There’s no conceivable way to articulate what’s happening to you because it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You feel… tingly, like every single hair follicle on your arms and legs rise, standing on high alert.

“Something’s not right.”

The tugging intensifies dully. You gasp against it, desperately clawing at the front of your shirt with the pads of your fingers, seeking to protect something tangibly nonexistent. It’s like someone’s fingers pinch a taut guitar string inside your chest, pulling on it with increasing pressure, pulling it further and further until it can’t move an inch, holding it the apex in a deathly promise that, with one final tug, the string will give.

I’ve got you.

Everything happens within a second.

You whimper out an anguished yelp as the string abruptly snaps.

Manda leaps to her feet and grasps your shoulders, begging to help.

Then, right before your eyes, Manda’s body begins to dissolve.

“M-Manda...? Amanda, wait! NO!”

She falls away into a pile of ash on your floor.

You drop to your knees, screaming.

And so does the rest of the world.

...

Part II

[hearteyesbowen]

twenty-dollar baby ☆ ricky bowen

big red thinks that ricky’s lost his touch and isn’t as smooth as he used to be, so they make a bet to see who is right

warnings: swearing, kinda cliché, fluff

part I , part II , part III

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Big Red and Ricky were sitting at their usual lunch spot, staring at his now ex-girlfriend, Nini Salazar-Roberts. It had only been two weeks since school started again and Ricky was still angry at how Nini had moved on so fast. He believed that they were only on a break, just so he could wrap his head around the whole “I love you” drama.

“You know, the more you stare, the creepier you look.” Big Red teased, nudging his best friend.

“I’m so over Nini now. How could she just find a senior boyfriend so fast?” Ricky complained.

“You broke up with her, dude.”

“It was a pause!”

Ricky stopped himself from getting any louder. He ruffled his hair, trying to destress himself. He pushed his lunch tray to the side, clearly losing his appetite over his anger.

“I should move on, too. I’ll start dating again.” Ricky declared.

Red scoffed, “Good luck.”

Ricky snapped his head at Red, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve lost your game. You were in a relationship for almost a year, how would you know how to get another girl?”

“You’re so supportive, you know that?”

Red rolled his eyes, pushing his tray away and sitting up. “I’ll bet you $20 that you can’t get another girlfriend in a week.”

“Excuse me?” Ricky asked in disbelief.

Red quickly scanned the cafeteria, looking for a girl that he can give to challenge Ricky. His eyes found you, sitting at a table in the center with your best friend Carlos. You were sitting extremely close with him as you he had his phone out to show you some videos.

Red smacked Ricky’s arm and pointed towards you, “I bet you can’t get Y/N to be your girlfriend.”

“What? No, I don’t want to be a dick. She’s super nice and literally in all my classes. Plus, I don’t need a bet to prove that I can get a girl.”

“You auditioned for a musical just to get Nini back and she’s still dating her new boyfriend and doesn’t even want to look at you.” Red pointed out.

Ricky sighed, staring at you from across the lunch area. Strands of your hair framed your face. Your head was laid on Carlos’ shoulder as you stared at his phone screen. Ricky never denied that you were pretty, in fact, he thought you were one of the most beautiful girls in the school. Everything about you captivated him, it was like you had him under this spell for the longest time.

You and Ricky shared almost every class with him. Only meeting at the end of your sophomore year, you both grew a treasured friendship. He would always try and get you to laugh during lessons, sometimes getting you both in trouble. If you were lucky, the teacher would let you two partner up for class projects. You thought he was cute, really cute. You never thought could like him, maybe because he didn’t seem like your type or that he had a girlfriend for a year. When they broke up during the summer, you made sure to check up on him whenever you could. He would ask you to hang out a majority of the time, so you grew even closer.

Ricky’s ego was building up, and maybe it was because his best friend was playing with his emotions, but he decided that he would take the bet. He knew he would have regretted this choice completely, but that’s a problem for later.

“Fine, in one week, I’ll get Y/N to be my girlfriend.”

Ricky and Red shook hands, finalizing their new deal.

➢➣ ➢➣

You rolled your eyes the more your teacher lectured minutes before the final bell rang. You rested your head on your chin, doodling swirls all over your notebook where your notes were supposed to be.

“Make sure you keep in touch with your partner, I’ll give you some class time tomorrow to finish the assignment.” Your teacher closed his textbook and walked to his desk as everyone packed their things.

You sat up and closed your notebook. You stuffed it inside your backpack, tuning out all of the noise of kids laughing and talking loudly. You took out your phone and your earphones, plugging them into your ears when you felt a small object hit your head. Your head looked to the floor where the item fell, and you found a tiny paper ball. You laughed and looked a few desks in front of you to your friend. Ricky was already staring at you, smiling to himself as he got up with his backpack and squeezed through the aisle to get to your seat.

“There wasn’t any other way for you to get my attention?” You wondered, picking up the ball and throwing it back at him.

Ricky laughed and kneeled in front of you, “I tried to call you but you ignored me. It’s your fault for sitting in the back.”

“No, it’s your fault for getting moved for distracting me from learning.” You teased.

The last bell of the day rang, making everyone in class shove each other out the door. You stood up with Ricky who grabbed your backpack for you, and you both headed out the class. He grabbed the door handle before you could and held it open, letting you pass through first.

You gave him a confused look, “Who let you be a gentleman today?”

Ricky’s mouth grew open in shock, “I can’t just be nice to my friend?”

“No, you’re a dick.”

“Wow, you and Red both make me feel so much better about myself.” He joked.

You walked down the staircase to the bottom floor. The theatre door was ahead, meaning you and Ricky had to part ways.

You tilted your head, “What did he tease you for this time?”

Ricky’s eyes widened, averting from yours. He scratched the back of his neck, “The usual.”

You laughed, said bye and started to walk away, assuming Ricky would just walked into rehearsal. Before you could take two steps away from him, he called for your attention.

“Y/N.”

You turned around on your heels, facing the anxious boy. He stood with his hands in his pockets, swaying back and forth on his feet. His mouth was open, as if trying to find what to say.

“Ricky?” You asked, stepping closer to him.

“What are you doing later?” His voice was soft, almost nervous.

“Nothing, why?”

“I have rehearsal for only an hour today, we’re ending early. Maybe I can pick you up and we can go out?”

You were now face-to-face with him. He had a timid smile, anticipating your response. You smiled brightly at him, easing his anxiousness.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Ricky Bowen?”

His lips grew wider, relieved of your reaction, “What if I am?”

“Then I would love to go on a date with you.”

Ricky sighed, making you giggle. He wrapped his large arms around your body for a tight hug. Your hands went around his neck as he lifted you off the floor for a few seconds. Once you were set back down, he checked the time on his phone.

“I’ll pick you up at 4:30?”

You stood on your toes to kiss his cheek lightly.

“Don’t be late.”

➢➣ ➢➣

Looking in the mirror, you finished checking yourself to make sure you were ready for your date. You finished fixing your hair, making sure it’s perfectly smooth.

You don’t know why you were so excited about going out on a date with Ricky. Sure, you thought he was cute, but you never thought of him that way. He was always really nice to you, and made sure you were ok after anything happened to you. Maybe it was because of how close you two got recently, but something felt different with him.

Ricky had sent you a text five minutes ago that he was on his way to pick you up, so you picked up your small purse and opened your bedroom door to leave.

“Y/N, Ricky is here for you!” Your mother called out from the living room.

You walked through the hall and saw Ricky in front of the door next to your mother, holding a small bouquet of red and yellow roses. He wasn’t dressed formal, just a light sweatshirt and jeans. You practically matched him, mostly because you didn’t know what his plans were for the date.

His eyes looked you up and down, his lips were parted slightly. “You look beautiful.”

You stood in front of him and smiled as he offered you the roses. “Thank you very much. You look handsome.”

His face grew pink, making your mom laugh behind you. “Remember what we talked about, alright?”

Ricky nodded his head furiously as he held your hand, “You can trust me.”

He sent a wink to your mother before he opened the door. You waved goodbye to her and closed the door behind you once you got out. You turned and saw Ricky’s small car parked in your driveway.

“Sorry it’s not some sports car, but I hope it will do.” He said nervously.

You laughed, “Anything will be fine. I’m just not sure what we’re doing today.”

Ricky opened your door for you, ushering you inside. You got in and watched as Ricky closed the door and ran around the car to his side and sat inside as wel.

“I’ve learned a thing or two about dates. Not sure if I’m any good at it yet but I’m learning. But I thought it would be nice if we go to the pier.”

“Like, the beach?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t like the beach?”

You scrunched up your nose and hid your face in shame. Ricky put his hand on your shoulder, his face in awe.

“How do you not like the beach?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Just never did.”

“I’ll try and make this the best date ever. We don’t even have to go near the sand, the pier is way more fun anyways.”

“Well this is a step up from any date I’ve been on.”

Ricky started the car, letting the engine run for a few minutes. Confused, he tilted his head towards you.

“What do you mean?”

Great, now you get to look like a loser in front of your date. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, clearing your throat and fixing your hair, a habit you developed when you get nervous.

Ricky put his hand on top of yours which rested on your lap. You faced him, a small grin on your face.

“Have you never been on a date before?” He wondered. You shook your head slowly. Your head grew hot from the embarrassment. “Am I your first ever date?”

“I feel pathetic now.”

“No, no, no, don’t feel that way” He promptly put his hand on your shoulder. “I promise to make this the best date you will ever go on.”

➢➣ ➢➣

The sun was already beginning to set by the time you both made it to the pier. The beach was tame, not many people were swimming, mostly families running around with each other in the sand or friends starting bonfires in the charcoal pits towards the center of the beach. The pier wasn’t as full, either. Other, older, couples were walking together, holding hands or dining together at the restaurants. It was fully lit with lamps on the sides of the fencing blocking you from the sand. Any other light came from the sun already dimming away.

You didn’t know what to focus on first. Everything about the atmosphere was so breathtaking. To think that you had never gone out to see beautiful spots like this was a crime.

Ricky made sure to hold your hand the entire way, keeping you from running off to the numerous sites that caught your attention. He couldn’t help but be amazed at how beautiful he thought you looked in front of him. It almost made him forget this wasn’t real.

You dragged Ricky to the edge of the pier, staring straight ahead at the ocean in front of you. The sun was barely showing anymore, and all the colors molded together from day to night. You stepped on the fence and leaned over, gazing down at the water below you. Ricky’s strong arms held you at your waist, preventing you from falling over.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, or anything this beautiful.” You awed, stepping down from the rail.

Ricky’s arms stayed wrapped around your body and nestled his head in your neck. “I can think of something.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and laughed as you turned around to face him. “You’re really cute.”

His eyes glanced at your lips the more you stared at each other in silence. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you leaned up hastily. Ricky followed your actions, his breath shaky.

Ricky’s loud ringtone interrupted your possible kiss, making him scrunch you his face in frustration.

“Sorry, I should have silenced my phone.” He apologized, bringing out his phone to see it was a call from Red.

You shook your head, laughing slightly, “It’s fine, answer it. I’ll be here.”

He was quick to kiss your cheek before answering his phone and taking two steps away from you. As much as you knew it would be rude, you were curious as to what Big Red could have called for. Fortunately, you could make out some of what he was saying through the phone, and all of Ricky’s responses.

“Yeah, I’m with Y/N. Why?”

You turned your head slightly, your attention fully in their conversation at the sound of your name.

“So is it going to happen tonight?”

“Dude, don’t say that. Be respectful, you dick.”

You laughed at the way Ricky and his friend fought. He struggled to hang up with Red. The look of impatience on his face grew more and more. Boys are so stupid.

Once he was finally able to hang up, he shoved his phone in his pocket and turned back to you.

“Do you want to get ice cream?” He offered, holding out his hand.

You walked up to him and held his hand, “I would love to.”

➢➣ ➢➣

The sun had already set completely, so the pier looked even more gorgeous. Lights coming from the inside of shops and restaurants lit up the walkway along with the lamps. Less people filled the area, most of them leaving to the sand.

You and Ricky had just bought your ice cream, almost finished with it immediately. Your plan was to go to the arcade. He challenged you to play against him in Guitar Hero, so you simply couldn’t back down. This night was far too perfect for you, it was almost like a dream.

Ricky, on the other hand, couldn’t keep steady. He bounced his leg or fumbled with his hands when they weren’t holding yours. It’s not like he wasn’t trying to take you out on a nice date, he wanted to make this as special as he could for you. He never truly realized how much he really did like you until now. You made him feel something he never felt when he was with Nini.

Ricky’s problem was that he was still lying to you. He didn’t ask you out because he has loved you since you two met, or at least that’s what he wished was the case. He wishes that he discovered this emotion towards you early, that it could have been different. He still made a bet, a $20 bet that was just useless at this point. But when would he tell you this is what aches him the most.

“I need to tell you something, Y/N.”

You stopped walking along the pier and stared at him confusingly while you threw away the spoon with your finished ice cream, “Is everything alright?”

He toyed with the spoon inside of his almost empty cup, not able to look at you. “I seriously need you to know something, but I’m really scared that you will hate me forever.”

You rubbed his arm soothingly, hoping he would look at you. When he did slowly move his head up to you, you gave him a soft smile.

“I could never be mad at you. Ricky. Especially after everything you have done for me tonight. You’re the nicest guy ever.”

His eyes saddened. His foot tapped rapidly along the wooden flooring, and his upper body looked as if he tensed up. One of his hands went to his eyes, rubbing his temples furiously.

“I just feel bad.” He mumbled, still covering half of his face.

“Why?” You wondered, feeling petrified of his tone.

Ricky lifted his head again from his hands and had a smirk displayed across his face. “I feel bad that I’m going to beat you at every single game in that arcade.”

Your whole body relaxed at his response. You let out a relieved laugh and picked up the spoon from his cup that had the smallest scoop of chocolate ice cream.

“Yeah, but at least I don’t have chocolate on my face.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

You gave a sinister grin as you took the spoon and smeared it on the top of his cheek and across his nose. You laughed and threw the utensil in the trash near you.

He groaned, throwing the cup away as well. He wiped his face with a napkin he had and eyed you down. “You’re going to get it.”

You bolted off immediately away from Ricky, who was still cleaning up his face from the chocolate. You went inside the arcade, knowing he would chase you down.

You ran around the children and teens playing in front of the large machines, hoping you would lose Ricky as quickly as possible. You tried to find something large to hide behind so you could watch out for him. Soon, you found a large basketball game that was set up on the side of the wall towards the back. You ran to the machine and ducked down, trying to see if you could spot him.

After a few short minutes of looking, you couldn’t find Ricky anywhere. You thought that maybe he just completely lost you. Well, he didn’t.

Once you stood up to try and get a better look around the area, a pair of strong hands grabbed you from behind and picked you up. You screamed, only to hear a familiar laugh from the person who grabbed at you.

“You aren’t good at hiding.” Ricky teased as he set you down.

You faced him, still being held in his arms and quickly greeted with his devilish smile. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too cocky.”

“Sorry, loser.” He joked, bringing you closer to his body.

You decided to make the bold move and lean up to plant your lips on his. You held at his neck and stood up on your toes higher to meet his height. Ricky was completely shocked, but only for a second so he could kiss you back. Your lips molded together perfectly, making you feel warm. Although it was short, you didn’t think it was anything less than perfect.

You pulled away after a few seconds, and giggled at his peaceful face. His eyes stayed closed, along with a small smile.

“Wake me up when I’m done dreaming.” Ricky whispered.

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, making him open his eyes. He pecked your lips once more, making you giggle. You held his hand and led him to one of the games you ran past earlier.

As you both walked around, Ricky felt another buzz from his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the notification.

Big Red 🔥

Nini and EJ broke up, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of you.

A/N - we love a cliffhanger lol this is for sure going to be a longer series ( maybe not too long but longer than two parts ) . hope u guys like this one !! also i hope u guys are home , staying safe and healthy , and all that stuff cuz we’re not trying to spread and catch diseases ): love y’all xx

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [remastered; ch 10]

pairing: moxiety and logince (later on), background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: food mentions, eating, sex mentions, affair mentions, crude language, swearing, panic attacks, graphic depictions of self harm, suicidal ideation, abusive family members, yelling, fighting, blood, self hatred, self disgust, hurtful conversations, fear, anxiety, anger, homophobia, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: this chapter is SUPER intense, so please heed the warnings! as always, you’re free to ask for a modified chapter if you need it, but please be extra careful because none of those warnings are taken lightly!!!!

a/n 2: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 11 - chapter 12

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

-

It had taken a while, but the idea of going and conversing with the others started to warm up to Virgil. Patton had wrapped his arm around Virgil’s waist and held him close, grounding the anxious teen and giving him small bits of courage. Soon, they stood up and and ventured to the main pavilion to introduce Virgil to the other people he hadn’t met yet. There was Jo, who had a really cool cut down the middle makeup look on his face, and Joan, who did the most ridiculous impressions, and Terrence, who was the biggest ball of energy in such a small body.

For once, it was actually enjoyable for Virgil to meet new people. Years of being almost completely alone--save for a few friends here and there and his shitty ex-boyfriend--had turned him almost completely solitary. At the party, he still clung to Patton like a scared five-year-old, but he felt a little more included in the group. When Virgil began to tense up, Patton would place his hand gently on his back to provide a tether to cling on.

After two hours of eating and chatting, the party was over. Patton, Logan, and Roman offered to stay after and help clean up, but Talyn shooed the boys away, saying something about how they didn’t need any help. Virgil knew it was because they wanted him home ASAP after his panic attack, but he couldn’t bring himself mind. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was wash all of this makeup off and hopefully get most of the glitter off of his body. One day, Roman would pay for this pink glitter catastrophe, but that was a whole other train of thought.

Patton and Virgil were dropped off at their house just before midnight. Both of the boys got ready for bed, and Virgil was just this close to falling asleep when Patton softly knocked on his door.

Virgil groaned and rolled over. “Yeah, Pat? What’s up?”

The door softly clicked open, and the soft hall lights filtered in, giving Patton a light yellow glow. He entered quietly and sat on the desk chair, just barely visible in the low light.

“I, uh, just wanted to say thank you for coming to the party tonight. And also to apologize for your panic attack. I shouldn’t have let myself get swept away when you obviously needed some extra support.” Although his tone was sweet and kind, there was deep regret laced in his words.

“Oh, Pat. It’s okay. It wasn’t even your fault that we got separated.” Virgil assured, propping himself onto his elbows.

There was a beat of silence before Patton hesitantly whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled even though it probably couldn’t be seen by Pat. “I’m sure.”

Patton nodded quickly and left, but not before giving Virgil a small thumbs up. Soon, both of the boys were asleep and the rough day was far behind them.

---

The next week passed by smoothly. Virgil had a grand total of just three panic attacks (and Patton had come to help with each one) and hadn’t relapsed a single time. He was really proud of himself, as was Patton, and he just felt better about himself. It was liberating to have actual friends to talk to and hang out with. He’d even persuaded Logan to join crew!

And then on that fateful Monday--May first, to be exact--everything came crumbling down. It seemed as if everything bad in the word just happened to fall on a Monday. That just made Mondays even more dreadful.

Virgil’s day had started off like normal. He’d woken up, gotten ready, eaten breakfast with Patton, and went off to school. It was almost ridiculously mundane. It was in second block, however, when the not-so-normal things began to happen.

“Virgil Thomas to Office A, please,” the voice on the speaker crackled.

Shit, Virgil thought. What the fuck did I do this time?

His teacher gestured at him to leave, so he did. The walk from his math classroom to the office was basically a joke, so he made his way as slowly as possible, going so far as to dawdle by the bubbler for a minute. 

As he walked up to the office, he saw his dad’s “secretary” standing at the doors. “Secretary” being used loosely, since she was, in reality, nothing more than the girl his dad had chosen to have an affair with this month.

“Hey, Virgil,” Nathalie cooed in her irritating voice. It sounded like sandpaper on ceramic plates. “Your dad is back in town and wanted me to let you know.”

“Why didn’t he just text me? He knows that I keep my phone on me at all times.” Virgil knew that he sounded bitter, but he didn’t care when his father was involved.

“He’s been very busy lately.” Yeah, probably doing you. “He hasn’t been able to find a time to take a break from work to text you.”

Work! Who knew that Nathalie could be so funny.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go back to class now, Nat. Bye!” He spun around on his heel and started to walk away when she cut him off.

“Oh, and your father wants you to have dinner with him tonight.” 

Fucking great.

“Um, I actually had plans with a friend tonight,” Virgil rushed, dancing carefully around his current living arrangements and schedule.

“Why don’t you invite them over? I’m sure your father would love to meet them!” 

Sure he would! Just like he was so fucking excited to meet Virgil’s boyfriend or any of his other friends when he’d brought them over.

“Sure. I’ll ask him.” He was never going to be able to get out of it, so he might as well try to get Patton to come along and soften the blow. Virgil walked to the bathroom instead of to his classroom, sitting in the nearest stall with his head in his hands until the bell rang.

---

“How do I look, Virge?” Patton modeled the black dress pants and blue polo get up he had on. His grey cardigan was actually on him, instead of hanging off of his shoulders or waist.

“Great! I don’t think Dad’ll have anything bad to say about that.” Virgil was ridiculously worried about his dad ripping the happy-go-lucky boy to absolute shreds. Mr. Thomas wasn’t the nicest or most accepting person on a good day, and any way that Virgil could protect his friend, he would.

“Awesome. Now, what are you wearing?” Patton’s question was innocent, but sent a small wave of anxiety through Virgil’s body.

“Uh, black jeans, some dress shoes, and a black jumper.” He’d worn this many times in front of his dad, and he hadn’t yet been ridiculed by his father for it. Unlike all of his other clothing.

Already, Virgil had wiped off all of his makeup and styled his hair out of its floppy fringe into a clean-cut look in preparation for the visit to see his dad. Any bandages that might have disrupted his appearance were removed, all scars were covered with foundation, and his whole personality purged of substance. Even his phone case had been switched out from the pretty galaxy case with the halloween Popsockets to the all black case with as much personality as a stick in the mud. It was absolutely dreadful.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll look fantastic, kiddo!”

Yeah. Sure.

---

“Alright, guys, have a good time! Just text me when you need to be picked up, Pat,” Mrs. Shea said before driving off, leaving Virgil and Patton stranded at the Thomas residence.

For once, the lights were on inside, giving the house the tiniest sense that it wasn’t vacant. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder which of his father’s chefs was cooking their meal. He hoped that it was Mei, whose food was both fancy enough to meet Mr. Thomas’ high expectations but held a sense of casualness that appealed to Virgil. 

The pair walked up to the front door and rang the bell, sending a custom chime echoing through the house. Almost instantly, a mildly-disheveled Nathalie opened the door, grinning ridiculously widely.

“Virgil! Who’s your friend, here?” She greeted with faux cheeriness.

“Uh, this is Patton. He’s a friend from school,” Virgil paused, unable to focus when he could see a white stain on Nat’s mouth. He motioned up to his lips with a small grimace. “You’ve got a little… something… on your mouth, Nathalie.”

Gross. He didn’t even want to think about what had been happening just moments before.

Nathalie wiped gently at her mouth with the back of her hand, being extra careful not to smudge her pristine red lipstick. Opening the door wider, she motioned the boys inside. Virgil led the way to the dining room, not even bothering to wait for Nathalie.

“Oh, Virgil,” Mr. Thomas said as they walked into the dining room. “I didn’t realize you’d brought someone along.” Shocking. “Is this another one of your ‘boyfriends?’”

A pinched smile spread across Virgil’s face. “No, dad. I’m not dating anyone. This is my school friend, Patton Shea.”

“Hey, Mr. Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Patton’s happy voice lightened up the room’s atmosphere just the slightest amount, which all but astounded Virgil.

“Virgil could take some fashion notes from you, Patton. He’s always wearing those stupid looking skinny jeans and t-shirts. You look quite impressive and professional for a teenager,” Mr. Thomas commented, adjusting his glasses in a Logan-like manner. That was apparently all he had to say as he took a bite of the food in front of him.

Much to Virgil’s disappointment, it wasn’t Chinese. Apparently, the first dinner you’d have with your son in literal months wouldn’t be complete without a giant French buffet--complete with dessert.

“I--Thanks?” Pat stuttered, confused by the backhanded compliment. Virgil disregarded the comment, instead choosing to lead his friend to the table. They sat close enough to his dad to be considered polite, but it was definitely farther than an appropriate familial distance.

The three ate in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Thomas spoke again. “So, Patton, what are you planning on doing after high school? Virgil said he wanted to be a graphic designer, but he’s probably going to take up the family business. Arts degrees are just a waste of time and money; better to strive to be successful on the first try and not have to go back.”

Patton stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I was planning on going to school to be a therapist, but being a stay-at-home dad seems like a pretty nice idea, too.”

“Psychology is an interesting subject; I’d have to agree.” Mr. Thomas shifted his focus to his son. “Now, Virgil, what did you say you wanted to focus on in school? Something with video making?”

“It was video game design, but I’m not going after that, anymore. It was a stupid fever dream.” None of the food on Virgil’s plate was making it to his mouth; it had merely been stirred into a gloopy mess. He already felt like shit about himself, but leave it to his dad to be make him feel even worse.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” Virgil all but jumped up and sprinted from the room. 

Within a few seconds, he locked the door to the upstairs bathroom behind him. Virgil turned his head and stared at the reflection in the mirror. It looked nothing like him. The Virgil in the mirror was normal; he had no flaws, and he was the perfect son. His goals were steep but attainable, and he never said anything out of line. The real Virgil was anything but.

The real Virgil was a gigantic disappointment. He wanted to go into the arts, not business management. He had an attitude problem and a “screw The Man” ideology that ended up getting him into more trouble that necessary, yet he never changed his ways. The real Virgil was an emotional mess, not knowing how to properly express himself except through suicide or self harm. He was pathetic and stupid and, quite frankly, “too gay to function,” as his dad would say. There was no place in this world for the real him. Every single fucking time that his father was around, the façade was put up in some wimpy attempt to deflect some of the hateful words that would always be thrown his way.

And that’s when he broke. Tears streamed down his face, and choked sobs ran through his body. He thought he’d been getting better, but who was he kidding? This was the same old Virgil who’d attempted suicide not once--not twice. No, he’d attempted to fucking kill himself four times. But thank god that he’d survived! The world obviously needed Virgil Thomas’ fucking presence to keep it spinning.

Virgil gripped at his hair. He’d left his phone at the table, but he needed an escape from the emotions berating him.

Think, Virgil! There’s gotta be something that can help you.

His blurry eyes scanned the counter before landing on a familiar piece of metal.

Yes.

Virgil reached out and grabbed the blade, flipping it open with ease. Memories of the past flitted through his mind. Ones where he’d said “just one last time” with false hopes that it’d be true, but the very next day, he’d be back in this bathroom, washing blood out of the tub. Weakness. Had he included that on his list? Because Virgil Thomas was weak.

“Just one last time,” he mocked as the blade sliced the skin of his forearm.

Pathetic. What kind of fucking child do you have to be to continually come back to a blade to solve your problems?

Another cut. And another. It was so calming--so ridiculously relaxing to watch the red blood splatter on the perfectly white floor where it mixed with his tears to make a watercolor painting.

Faggot. Nobody will love someone who’s gay, loser! Think of Jason. He ruined you.

A knock on the door jerked Virgil out of his daze, making him drop the knife in the process.

“Hey, Virgil? Are you okay? I can hear you crying, kiddo,” Patton worried; his words filtered through the door with a slight resonance.

“I’m fine, Patton. Don’t worry.” Yeah fucking right.

“Virge, please just let me in.” There was no way that Patton would take no for an answer.

“Okay.” Virgil pulled his sleeves down harshly, smearing a bit of blood onto his hands. He stepped in front of the blade and blood, trying to hide it from Pat’s prying eyes as he opened the door. A fake smile was plastered onto Virgil’s face. “See--”

“Is that blood?” Patton gasped and snatched Virgil’s wrists up. With an unprecedented gentleness, he rolled up the jumper sleeves that had started to plaster themselves to his arms. The look of worry on Pat’s face soon turned to one of pure anger.

He’s mad. You’ve upset him, and he’s going to kick you out. Maybe he’s finally realized what a mistake it was to save you--

“How dare your dad think he can say things like that to his own son! You deserve so fucking much, Virgil--in fact, you deserve the world. Yet here’s this asshole who won’t give you a god damn break, bringing you to hurt yourself because he can’t keep his idiocy to himself! Grab that towel; we’re going downstairs.” Patton stormed out the room and down the stairs. Virgil followed a few paces behind, terrified out of his mind.

“Mr. Thomas! With all due respect--which is none, by the way--who the absolute fuck do you think you are to think that it’s okay to ridicule your own child like that?” Virgil’s dad opened his mouth to speak, but Pat cut him off. “No! You fucking listen to me; you’re a terrible father! Your child should never be brought to self harm as a coping mechanism--especially not by his own fucking father. Are you fucking kidding? Who gave you the right to do this? First, you spend all of your time away from Virgil, and then you go about barely ever talking to him, and to top it all off, you give him shit for everything that he has a fucking passion for!”

Both Virgil and his father were completely silent. Neither had expected such an outburst from the docile kid between them.

After a long few moments, Virgil said, “Let’s go, Pat.”

Virgil and Patton quickly left the house, not stopping until they were a street away. Patton called his mom to tell her to pick them up, and they sat on the curb to wait.

“Thank you, Patton. For standing up to me. Nobody’s ever done that before.” Virgil’s voice was soft and genuine. A little fluttering sensation rose in Pat’s stomach as he leaned towards his friend.

“It’s no problem, Virge.”

chapter 11

[johnny-and-dora]

holding back the flood

“Oh god. Their baby is the size of a cherry. She’s tearing up again.”

or, the one where jake and rosa take care of a extremely stressed, highly emotional and mildly pregnant amy. (future fic) read on ao3

-

Amy really doesn’t know why she’s crying.

As a Santiago, she prides herself on having at least a reasonable amount of self control when it comes to emotional displays in the workplace; she was taught long ago that they were highly inappropriate, after all, and she takes great pride in being a teacher’s pet/star mentee.

Disregarding Holt’s advice (which isn’t something she often does), one of the thousands of things she’s learnt since she became a sergeant is that it’s optimum for everyone’s productivity – and overall physical wellbeing – if she can keep stress braids, Santiago-scale freak outs and full-on weeping to a minimum at work.

(No-one needs to mention the Great Printer Catastrophe again – and absolutely  no-one needs to mention that she’s permanently banned from being anywhere near the machine if it’s ever low on ink.)

Badly timed, apocalypse-inducing paper jams aside; Amy is a strong, emotionally resilient, rational woman. She rolls her eyes and smiles at Jake when he cries at films, she flawlessly multitasks with letting her anxiety get the best of her, and she tries her best to remain professional at all times (ignoring the extremely few instances in which her husband has tempted her into Supply Closet C). She cries when she wants to, when she needs to, but as a rule, she absolutely holds it together at the precinct, especially in front of her officers.

At least, that’s what she’s been firmly trying to tell herself for the past few days, because her usually reliable ability to “hold it together” currently seems about as unstable as her current hormone levels.

Since she got into work this morning, she’s cried four times already – once because they were out of granola, once because Charles’s lunch smelled at least ten million times worse and at least ten times more eye-watering than usual. Once, most unceremoniously, in a toilet stall on her break because her head wrecks and she’s so nauseous she can barely enjoy filling in paperwork anymore, and once because she suddenly remembered the sonogram picture, grainy and monochrome and forever universe-changing, that currently takes pride of place in their kitchen, stuck lovingly with an old I LOVE NY magnet to their fridge.

Notably - and most likely the shining, golden solve for why she might be spending 3pm on a Thursday afternoon sobbing her little heart out in the evidence lock up, riding out her own little hormone rollercoaster - Amy is nine weeks pregnant.

(Now is not the time, but something in her lights up every time she actually dares to think the actual word “pregnant” into existence; she fondly remembers snapshots of the past two months, the swell of joy in her heart at those two life-altering little lines, another test passed with flying colours. The look on Jake’s face when she told him, the way he’s been doing everything he can to take care of her. The time he came home with a little pair of baby sneakers that he “couldn’t resist” and she kissed him after lecturing him about how now wasn’t the time for frivolous purchases and they needed to be balancing their finances.)

(In short, they’re having a baby - and it’s terrifying and exhilarating and extremely, extremely nauseating, and she’s never been happier in her life.)

(And yet, she still can’t quite seem to stop crying.)

The emotional carnival ride of growing a human aside, she really doesn’t want to have an emotional break-down here, of all places, the one place in the precinct that’s meant to keep her steady. Quite frankly, Amy does not have the time to spare for these gross, irritating emotions right now. There is no time reserved in her tightly packed schedule for emotions of any kind, let alone multiple confusing and upsetting ones all at once.

She can’t even really note anything currently worth crying over. It’s just a simple detailed and meticulously planned patrol schedule due by the end of her shift that’s proving slightly harder to organise than first anticipated. Easy. Not a problem that she hasn’t solved a thousand times before.

Of course, that’s also on top of the thirty slide presentation about increasing productivity and efficiency within the precinct she has to give tomorrow that she’s barely had the time or energy to actually prepare for. And the in-depth evaluations she has to hand in of her entire squad by Monday.

And the fact that she’s already behind on the research for her pregnancy binder, and she still hasn’t revised their monthly budgets - because once she finally gets home she’s too exhausted to do anything other than sleepily curl up on the couch next to her husband, using Jake as her personal space heater while he strokes her hair and tells her about his day. She’s even too tired to yell at the TV during Jeopardy.

It’s nothing. At least, it’s nothing she would usually be worried about, tasks to complete that she would normally even be a little excited to feel the adrenaline rush of finishing early and getting some sweet spare time to revise her eighteen step plan to increase arrest numbers by 30% by December. Santiago-style.

And yet, to pregnant Amy, what usually constitutes as ‘nothing’ seems to currently signal the end of days - and so, here she appears to be.

Hormones raging, freshly applied mascara once again ruined, eyes red and puffy, breathing irregular, neon sign brightly flashing with the words “hot mess” directly above her head. She’s hiding, not exactly inconspicuously,  between the endlessly neat rows of closed cases, knees hugged as close to her chest as possible while taking tremendous care not to squish the ever-so-slight, barely noticeable bump that remains breath-taking proof that she’s growing an actual, real-life, cherry sized (as Jake cheerfully informed her this morning over breakfast) human being inside of her.

Oh God. Their baby is now the size of a cherry. She’s tearing up again.

She decides after a while, with the shred of rationality Amy seems to have left, that she is currently a hot mess that only one person is fully equipped to deal with. She reaches for her phone, sniffling, trying her best keep her breathing steady, anxiously fiddling with the shining silver wedding band on her ring finger.

She’s about to text a “Code Blue, Evidence Lockup” to Jake (who she thought she couldn’t love more up until about three weeks ago, when he woke her up at 3am with a meticulously crafted colour-based code system they could use to covertly deal with pregnancy situations - it made her both very emotional and super horny) – but she feels a flash of panic when it’s not in its usual place tucked safely in her back pocket. Her heart quickly sinks when she realises it must be still in the top drawer of her desk.

She lets out another stifled sob of dread and embarrassment and frustration and practically every range of negative emotion under the sun - which is, obviously, exactly when she hears the door to the evidence lock-up swing open.

A spark of fear immediately ignites in her chest as her heart starts racing – not now. She instinctively squeezes her eyes shut, hoping desperately that if she makes herself as small as physically possible, even in her current state, she’ll be able to completely disappear.

The Nine-Nine have seen her in a much worse state, sure. She’s more sure than anything that her chosen family would be able to make her feel better in practically any kind of situation. And yet, pretty much her worst, world-ending, blood-pumping fear right now is anyone – except Jake, seeing as this is the job he kind of signed up for when he married her - having to deal with her like this.

As weighted footsteps inch agonisingly closer, her heart plummets even further at the absence of the familiar sound of well worn sneakers – instead, she hears the equally familiar yet less comforting click-clack of black high-heeled boots on the cold concrete floor. She prepares for the worst.

The next thing she hears, deep yet uncharacteristically quiet and almost with a note of panic, is an unusually soft “Amy?” – when she finally opens her eyes, Rosa swims into view, eyes so comically wide that she can’t help but exhale a shaky, weak laugh. This is going to be fun.

“Heyyyyyyyy, Rosa.” She gives a little half-hearted wave despite herself, deciding to fully embrace the slightly hilarious and extremely mortifying situation.

(It could be worse. At least it’s less mortifying then being walked in on when making out with your boyfriend of one day, resulting in the heart attack and subsequent death of your new captain. Jake and Amy hold a lot of precinct records between them – the award for “highest amount of captains accidentally killed” is probably the one she’s least proud of.)

“Um, hey. Are you...”

“Chill? I’m chilled. I’m to-tal-ly chill. Chilled.”

If possible, Rosa’s eyes get wider.

“Do you possibly happen to know where my husband is, by any chance?” She laughs nervously with this sort of manic grin plastered on her face, putting all her energy into seeming like a normal human being. She’s failing miserably.

Rosa raises an eyebrow, but thankfully decides to indulge her.

“...He’s working on Charles’s B&E, some lame cheese shop downtown that Charles is too devastated about to get any actual police work done. They left like twenty minutes ago.” Amy exhales, trying not to let her face fall too hard.

“Right. Chill. Do you mind if I text him? I left my phone downstairs and I can’t exactly go down looking like...this.” She’s barely finished her sentence before Rosa is handing her phone to her, and she takes it gratefully.

She quickly finds Jake’s contact and involuntarily feels her lips tug up into a small smile at the incredibly unflattering dorky candid - from easily a decade ago, maybe even the Academy - that is his contact picture.

(Some things never change. She’s very glad his hair has.)

To: Jake Peralta, 15:06 Hey babe, it’s Amy. Code Blue, Evidence Lockup. I know you’re with Charles so don’t drop everything and immediately rush back here, just come when you can. Using Rosa’s phone because I left mine downstairs. Love you x

The painstaking minute and a half she takes to type out and send it to him – all while her hands are shaking from the incessant and deafening panic alarm sounding in her ribcage - are made even worse by the intense burning sensation of Rosa’s direct gaze on her the entire time. Hold it together, Amy.

“Thank you.” She hands Rosa her phone back, wishing more than ever that if she concentrated hard enough she could just disappear from sight completely. An awkward silence descends over them both, bringing with it an inevitable thickness in the air not unlike the first warnings of a thunderstorm. It’s unbearable.

It’s not like they’re not close enough to talk about exactly why Amy is sobbing hysterically in the evidence lock-up at 3pm on a Thursday – far from it, in fact. Ever since Florida, Rosa has become more and more of a valued and surprisingly skilled confidante, even if most of her solutions to Amy’s problems are tequila and Nancy Meyers films. (It, somehow, always seems to work.)

If anything, Amy is desperate to tell one of her closest and best friends all about how nauseous she is and how stressed out she feels and how, by the way, she’s casually just in the early stages of growing a human inside of her and she feels even more panicked than usual and what if she can never get the balance of being a mother and focusing on her career right and-

But she can’t. Because they can’t tell anyone, no matter how much Amy yearns to share this joy with the people she cares about the most, and how much Jake wants to gleefully yell that he knocked his wife up at virtually everyone they pass on the street. They’re just not ready – in truth, she isn’t ready for it to be official, real and an unavoidable, gargantuan force of change.

Thinking the word ‘pregnant’ into existence is enough to cause a hurricane of raw emotion – but it’s a light breeze compared to actually saying out loud.

And yet, they both known Rosa won’t leave until she gets some sort of answer out of her. They’re at an impasse – an uncomfortable, awkward, silent impasse.

Rosa’s gaze is scrutinising and calculating and Amy genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if lasers started shooting from her eyes at any second – it’s something of a old western movie stand-off parody, except they’re waiting out who’s going to suck it up and actually start the conversation they should probably be having right about now, no matter how uncomfortable both of them might be.

After an excruciating eternity of roughly ten seconds, the other curly-haired and always slightly terrifying detective eventually sighs and resignedly slides down on the floor next to her, discarding whatever file she had to the side. Her expression (as usual), is unreadable as she clears her throat.

“So - are you going to tell me what’s causing...this...” - Rosa makes an awkward sweeping gesture in her direction, which she assumes can only be in reference to the whole aforementioned “hot mess” state that she’s currently wallowing in – “or am I going to have to interrogate it out of you?”

“Rosa, honestly. I’m fine.”

“You and I have a very different definition of what ‘fine’ is, Santiago.” Amy just shrugs, so Rosa folds her arms and extends her legs across the floor like she’s prepared to be here all night, in true Diaz interrogation style. Amy’s thinking about laser eyes again before her friend’s expression unexpectedly softens.

“Do...you want to...talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, to her credit. Despite everything they’ve been through, seeing Rosa try to talk about feelings can still be a little like imagining a turtle out its shell, and Amy’s really not prepared to honestly talk about her physical and emotional state right now.

She just wants her husband to bring her some chocolate and give her a slightly inappropriate-for-work and yet badly needed neck massage, and Rosa is not someone she’d willingly go to for either of those things.

She sighs again, averting her gaze from Amy’s face to seemingly anywhere in the room before she starts talking again.

“Look dude, talking about your feelings is gross. If you don’t want to talk about it and you just want to sit here and cry it all out, I get it. I’ll stay here as long as you need, then go file my arson case and pretend I didn’t see anything. But...I’m here for you. Even if your feelings are the grossest or lamest, if you wanna talk, I’ll listen. Okay?” She finally brings herself to look at Amy directly, dark irises electric with the most intense sincerity she’s ever seen.

Okay, yeah. She’s definitely going to start crying again.

“Wait, I didn’t mean –“ Rosa begins; but Amy is already hugging her, forcefully and tightly and awkwardly from the side, tears once again free-flowing. She smiles brightly and tenderly at the way Rosa only stiffens up for a second before equally as awkwardly leaning into it, patting Amy reassuringly on the shoulder with her free arm.

They stay like that for a good minute, Amy sniffling and basically doing the exact opposite of holding it together, but also feeling like its okay. Like nothing she can do or say will end the world if she doesn’t let it. It’s a refreshing change of pace.

This, of course, means the second she finally finds the strength to detach herself from her best friend; well, it just kind of comes spilling out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Rosa’s eyes suddenly become comically wide again, and Amy laughs for real this time, bright and shining and clear.

“Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm. 9 weeks yesterday.”

“Nice.” Rosa smiles, a genuine, rare glowing Rosa smile, giving Amy a light shove of encouragement. When Amy breathes out, it somehow feels like a huge weight has lifted from her shoulders. She grins.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I feel sick all the time, all my clothes are becoming too tight, I can’t drink caffeine or alcohol or shame smoke and I’m so stressed out and emotional that I cry at literally everything – but, y’know.”

“You’re having a baby.” Rosa says with this kind of awe, and Amy gets this warm glow in her chest.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I’m having a baby.”

“That’s...a lot.”

“Yeah. Everything’s just...a lot, right now.” She sighs heavily, still weighted with something she’s been worried about for the last week or so.

“We haven’t told anyone else yet, but – well, do you think it’s obvious?” She finally plucks up the courage to ask the question that’s been nagging at her mind ever since she started to have a little more trouble fitting in to her sergeant’s uniform, and the other detective pauses thoughtfully for a second to think about it.

“I don’t think so. You’re not...showing, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

“No, no. We just... we didn’t want to tell everyone until...y’know. We were ready and it was the right time and...” She trails off, making a casual sweeping sort of gesture that somehow encapsulates her worst fears, and Rosa nods.

“I had my suspicions – you haven’t come out with us to Shaw’s in a long time, I haven’t seen you drink caffeine for a month, and you’ve been having even worse reactions to Charles’s disgusting food than usual. You don’t have to be a detective to start threading those symptoms together.”

“Damn. I thought we were doing a pretty good job of keeping it secret.” Amy sighs, folding her arms tightly across her chest, but Rosa just shrugs it off.

“You are. I saw all that but I still wasn’t sure. It just so happens that most of the people you’re trying to keep it secret from are highly trained NYPD detectives.”

Amy exhales a shaky half laugh and smiles, properly and genuinely, at the way her best friend looks at her with this kind of rare and precious softness, the corners of her mouth ever so slightly upturned into a smile.

“Also, I caught Jake on a baby name website last week and he panicked and told me he was brainstorming names for the monitor lizard you guys are thinking of adopting.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Yeah.” Rosa grins and Amy laughs at how wonderfully, amazingly stupid her husband can be, and her heart is actually warmed by the idea of Jake looking up baby names when he’s supposed to be working despite how irresponsible and stupid that is.

Somehow, she already feels better that she has all day, and there’s not a bottle of tequila or a DVD copy of The Holiday in sight. Another successful solve for the Sleuth Sisters (she’s still proud of that name and their corresponding cool-as-heck handshake, okay).

“Is that...why you’re here? You’re worried about everyone knowing?” Rosa asks, a little more tentatively than usual now she understands Amy’s fragile state a little better. She makes a face.

“Maybe. Honestly, I don’t really know why I’m here. It’s just between this stupid patrol schedule and this presentation I have to give tomorrow and my squad evaluations and my pregnancy binder and my actual pregnancy – well, I don’t know if I can handle it, okay?”

“...And that freaks you out because normally it would be something you could do easily.” Rosa nods, understanding, and Amy gives her a weak smile, letting her hands drop and rest naturally, almost protectively on her stomach.

“Amy, you are two months pregnant. There’s no way you can get done what you’d usually be able to get done by yourself, because you’re busy being exhausted from growing another human being inside of you. It’s perfectly normal to not be able to take on your usual superhuman workload, you nerd.” Rosa says, with this familiar exasperated disbelief at Amy’s overworking brain.

“I know, I know. It’s just...frustrating. I’m already struggle to balance family with career and the baby isn’t even here yet. It only just became a foetus, Rosa. A foetus!”

“Okay, okay.” Rosa puts her hands out like she’s trying to steady a horse, clearly fully aware that Amy’s about five seconds away from a Level 3 Santiago Scale Freak Out, Pregnant Edition – something neither of them are fully prepared for.

“I don’t have an answer to the whole baby and career thing, but you don’t have to think about that right now – you need to focus on you.” Amy clearly doesn’t look convinced enough, so Rosa sighs and tries again.

“Tell Holt you’ve been sick recently and you don’t feel ready for the presentation, and he’ll 100% understand, dude. Get Jennings to help you with the patrol schedule seeing as that nerd loves paperwork almost as much as you do, and you know your officers better than another sergeant in New York, so those evaluations will be easy – you could probably motivate them to even do it themselves. Problem solved, you get to go home early and kick your feet up with a non-alcoholic cocktail.” She flawlessly monologues off a game plan with an exceptional ease that leaves Amy in a state of awe.

“Wow. I...erm, yeah. That’s super helpful, actually.” Rosa nods, like it’s nothing that she’s just solved basically the entirety of Amy’s current mental-breakdown-inducing stressors in a matter of seconds, and then softens.

“You’re going to be fine, Amy. Trust me. Once the whole squad knows we’ll be queuing up to help you guys out.” She, of course, knew that already – but it’s nice to hear it out loud, a promise engraved in the unbreakable, indestructible bond of the 99th precinct. She’s definitely less close to tears now, which is always a plus.

She always knew she could count on her parents to help out, of course, and maybe a couple of her brothers when they weren’t busy graduating med school or travelling the world or having kids of their own. But it’s nice to know, to have it spoken, that she’ll always be able to count on her other family, too. That there are so many people who are more than willing to ride her stupid emotional rollercoaster with her, even through the seemingly endless loops.

“Thanks, Rosa.” “Anytime.”

As if on cue, their little bonding moment is abruptly hijacked when Jake comes crashing into the evidence lock-up – chaotic and electric and as hectic as she’s come to expect in the many, many years she’s spent slowly falling more and more in love with him, his eyes slightly wild , extremely out of breath. Amy’s heart rate spikes again as she realises with a jumble of adoration, frustration and amusement that he ran all the way here just to take care of her.

Not for the first time, amazingly not even for the first time this week, she quickly realises that she really couldn’t have found a better person to share the rest of her life with. She whispers a silent thank you to the universe.

“Ames! I’m so sorry it took me so long” – he pauses to take another breath – “I had to run from that stupid cheese shop, and I know you said not to drop everything and immediately rush back here, so I obviously dropped everything and immediately rushed back here, ‘cause I knew that you were just downplaying it and if it’s a Code Blue that’s important and-“

It seems to be only then that he notices Rosa watching them both, who gives him a subtle nod, unable to completely keep the smile from her face. Frozen, his eyes flick repeatedly and chaotically from Rosa’s to hers, as if he’s trying to telepathically figure out whether he can talk about the baby or not.

He looks like a cartoon character and/or absolute, complete utter idiot, and Amy laughs melodically, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Jake, it’s okay – she knows.”

“...About the monitor lizard we’re planning to adopt?” He says slowly, and Amy and Rosa both roll their eyes simultaneously; neither of them bothering to poorly conceal their smiles anymore.  

In lieu of an answer, Rosa gets up from the floor and punches Jake in the shoulder, smiling wider than Amy thinks she’s ever seen her smile (except maybe when Alicia is around). It’s extremely heart-warming and only slightly unnerving – she doesn’t think she’s ever recorded so many genuine Rosa smiles in one day - except maybe on her and Jake’s wedding night, or when she oh-so casually mentioned over lunch a few months ago that she and Alicia were moving in together.

It’s different and unexpected and unusual in the best way possible – sharing this joy, especially with someone she cares about so much. Suddenly, she starts to understand why Jake wants so badly to yell it out into the street.

“Dude. I know. And for the record, I think you’re going to be a great...monitor lizard keeper.” Amy smiles as she sees the tension practically seep out of Jake’s frame and he relaxes a little, grins at Rosa, bright as the sun. She loves him so much.

“You really think?”

“I know. You two are going to kick ass at this. A thousand push ups.”  Rosa practically radiates sincerity as she places a hand on Jake’s shoulder. She doesn’t have to be a detective to know that she’s not the only one in the room who’s definitely on the verge of tearing up again. Jake, if possible, smiles even wider.

It’s all very disgustingly heart-warming and Amy thinks if it carries on much longer there’s a high chance that Hysterical Cry #6 could happen at any minute.

“Thanks, Diaz. We’re hugging now.” “No, we’re not.”

“Yes we are, c’mon, we’re having a moment.” Before she can object further, he hugs her tightly and Rosa hugs back - without hesitation or apprehension or any of it, just warmth. Amy takes the opportunity to wipe fresh tears away.

“Ames, you wanna get in on this?” Jake says after a minute, and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I’ve already had my one allocated Rosa hug today.”

“Just get in here, Santiago.” Rosa grumbles, slightly muffled, and Amy more than happily obliges, carefully lifting herself up and gladly sandwiching herself between two of her favourite people in the entire world.

Somehow, she can’t seem to remember what she was crying about.

“God, you guys’ lameness is infectious.” Rosa says after they break apart, quickly wiping her face with her sleeve like if she does it fast enough they won’t see. It doesn’t work.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” “...Haven’t you actually got an arson case to file?” Amy says, concerned, but she just shrugs it off.

“It can wait. You gonna be okay?” Rosa asks, and Amy pauses for a second, still hyperaware of the anxiety pushing down at the bottom of her stomach like lead and making her slightly dizzy. But then Jake squeezes her hand gently, anchoring her back down to reality, and she smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Good. If you need anything, ask, dummy.  I’m not massaging you, though. That’s Peralta’s job.” She adds as an afterthought, which makes Amy laugh.

“Ah, a job I do with zero experience, very little skill and far too much confidence. The Peralta speciality.” Rosa rolls her eyes and casually strides out of the evidence lock-up like she hasn’t just been given the life-changing news that the Peralta-Santiagos are expecting - like she hasn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes flawlessly consoling a highly emotional and mildly pregnant weeping police sergeant like it was nothing. Amy has really no idea what she would do without her.

She watches her go with a sense of awe and peace and finally, sweet contentment - before turning to Jake, who smiles that soft smile that’s guaranteed to melt her like butter even when she’s not crazy hormonal and super horny. He squeezes her hand again, another secret coded language they’ve been speaking for almost a decade with remarkable ease.

“You sure you’re okay? I can go get chocolate if you need it, I know where Scully keeps his secret stash.”

“Mmm. I’m okay. Better now you’re here.” She says, wholeheartedly meaning it, and he carefully, tenderly hugs her, placing a chaste, appropriate-for-work kiss on the top of her head in a way that makes her think this is it. They’re having a baby. Amy wants to yell it out to passing strangers in the street.

“We’re having a baby.” She opts for the more practical decision of whispering it gently with this sort of quiet, glowing glee - he matches it in the way he looks at her, in all her red-eyed, mascara ruined glory, like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hell yeah, we are.” He whispers back, grinning ecstatically, and her heart is New York lit up in Christmas lights.

She’s still a little stressed beyond belief about that patrol schedule, and the inevitably anxiety inducing email she has to send to Holt about putting off the presentation for a couple of days. She’s still behind on the pregnancy binder, and their monthly budgets, and every day the cherry sized piece of her heart that’s growing ever bigger in her stomach provides a whole new set of challenges she’d rather openly weep about that actually get on with overcoming.

But she has a dork of a husband who will willingly drop everything and sprint 20 blocks just to take care of her, and a terrifying best friend who can solve her greatest problems and quiet her worst fears without a bottle of tequila in sight. She has a family, one that is always growing bigger and bigger – a totally bizarre, mismatched, unique and strange family, but one that she grows more grateful for every single day.

So when Jake hurriedly whispers a “love you” and kisses her softly before running back to tell Charles that the owner definitely broke into his own shop for the insurance money, and when Amy finally returns to her desk, smile on her face, to find Gary eagerly waiting to help her figure out the patrol schedule as Rosa so wisely predicted, she is no longer crying – she’s still nauseous and exhausted, sure, but happy, so deliriously happy, and so deliriously excited to finally embrace hurricane of change.

She opens up her phone’s calendar, where she quickly types “Announcement Day!” into the slot six days away, before sitting back in her chair, deciding what episodes of Serve and Protect they’re going to watch tonight, glowing smile on her face.

Then,  and only then, Amy just grips the bar in the carriage of her own little emotional rollercoaster before it can start up again – and she holds on tight, waiting patiently to enjoy the ride.

[pleasinglytherandom]

Puzzleshipping drabble number whatever, I lost track

Based on the Chainsmokers and Coldplay "Something Just Like This". I recommend giving it a listen before reading so you understand where I am coming from on this (plus it's just a good song, imo). Setting it in canon, pre-Battle City. Specifically before that whole bogus date thing with Anzu.

~~~~~~~~~

Ding-dong-ding-dong.

The cue of the last period of school rang throughout the building. Busy student bodies hustled out of the classrooms, and some stayed behind to do their typical chores. Yugi being Yugi, he is lucky to be the quieter one among his group of friends and doesn't get picked to do the chores often until his turn comes around. Anzu is the studious type and is often liked by the teachers, so she doesn't get stuck doing them often either, so the two usually walk out together. Jonounchi and Honda are not so lucky. They typically plan to catch up by meeting them somewhere after they are done with whatever chore they were stuck with.

After figuring out where they want to meet, Anzu and Yugi opened the doors to the outside world to see it pouring down rain. They groaned in disappointment simultaneously.

"I didn't bring an umbrella..." Yugi muttered with his shoulders slumped forward.

"I knew you would forget," Anzu said and handing over an extra umbrella. "Here. You can keep it. Just take care to not lose it, okay?"

"Ah, thanks Anzu!" Yugi thanked her with a big grateful grin and opened the umbrella. He joined her on the descent of the slick steps and walked out the gates of the school.

The duo continued on their walk to their destination that they will meet their friends at in quiet. They listened to the rain dropping on the canvass cover above them and all around in their surroundings. While it is annoying to them to deal with the potential of getting sick, the rain within itself is serene and relaxing to listen to.

It'll be helpful when doing homework later, Yugi thought to himself. Which reminds me...

"Could you keep up with the history in class today?" Yugi asked Anzu. "I got really lost and I kinda fell asleep for a little bit..."

"Meaning you gave up and took a nap," Anzu clarified and gave a teasing smirk. Yugi blushed in embarrassment and didn't try to defend himself. "But yes. I can lend you my notes and you can copy them to try to understand it better."

"You are the best!" Yugi cheered and accidentally let go of the umbrella when doing his little "hoorah". He lets out a little "oops" and picks it up with an extra tight grip.

"I told you to take care of that!" Anzu laughs, trying to be serious in her remark. She ultimately fails.

"I know, sorry," Yugi bashfully smiles, enjoying the fact he made his friend smile.

"Speaking of history...I want to ask you something a bit personal. Is it okay?"

Yugi looks up from his spot underneath the umbrella to see how serious Anzu is. She smiles, but there is a strange stress behind it. Like strings were the only thing keeping the ends of her lips curved up.

"Of course...what's bothering you?" Yugi tries for a more gentle and open tone, and it seemed to help her relax some.

"Have you wondered...what your other you was like before we met him? Before you completed the puzzle I mean."

"Kind of...I haven't thought about it too deeply. Why do you ask?"

"I have been wondering lately...ever since we learned more about the Items themselves and where they were from, it makes me wonder where he came from too. What kind of life did he live? How did he get stuck in the Puzzle? Questions like that. I know its not really my place to wonder about a life that wasn't mine, but...we are undoubtedly a part of the mystery now."

"It's okay, you are not the only one. I think Other Me has been wondering the same thing lately."

Yugi cradled the Puzzle with his free hand and looked down at it. The mystical gleam reflected his image in the carved gold. The presence of the soul residing inside shifts and the mental connection sparks. He feels the "weight" moving around, like he is looking back up at Yugi at the mention of him from Yugi himself. Soon after, his heart turns away again to let Yugi be. It stung Yugi a little, but more than anything, he was disappointed in himself.

I'm sorry Other Me, I know what it means to you to learn about your past, and I wish I could be the hero to get them back for you...but I don't know how.

"How is he, by the way?" Anzu asked, concern clear in her voice. She must have saw Yugi's expression just now.

"He...He tells me he is fine, but I know it's not true." Yugi felt a twinge from inside when he said that, a clear reaction from his other half. "He reassures me, and I have tried to do the same for him...but sometimes it's like talking to a brick wall. He won't tell me everything. I am pretty sure I know why he is acting like this, but I want to hear it from him of what he wants. Not because I pushed him to do something about it."

"Why won't he tell you?" Anzu asked again. "I thought you two told each other everything."

"That's the only thing I don't know the answer to." Yugi carressed an edge of the Puzzle with his thumb, a nervous habit he has developed since he finished it.

Other Me...why won't you tell me?

-Later....-

Yugi returned home after many hours of arcade playing and stuffing his face with fast food with his friends. He hurried up the stairs to his room and dropped his backpack at the edge of his bed and flopped onto his back. He lets out a blissful sigh and smiles to himself. He stares up at the blank, slanted ceiling as his mind unwinds from the exciting evening. With Anzu's help earlier, he finished copying down clear notes as they ate, so he had the rest of the night to himself and his Other Self.

Almost on cue, his Other Self formed next to him. Yugi smiled up at the ghost beside him and sat up, cradling the Puzzle in his hands to keep it from bumping against his chest. He turns to face him directly and grins even wider.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Yugi questions, his body tense with eagerness.

"Of course partner, that's like asking if the sky is up," The Other Yugi answered with a chuckle. "I see some of your excitement hasn't faded."

"Of course it hasn't! Some of those combos you pulled were amazing! And seeing Jonounchi rage like that, I have never seen anything like it! Its like you have played modern games all your life!"

"Remember, we share a body. So some of that credit goes to you."

"That's not the point! Its like you untapped potential in my muscle memory and used them! I didn't think our fingers could move that fast! It's like...like you are super human!"

"Oh please, you are exaggerating."

"I'm not though!"

They laughed together, but once that laughter subsided, it fell into an awkward silence. The energy and life seemingly depleted from Yugi's voice and the fun conversation ended. The Other Yugi frowned and let a hand hover over his partners shoulder.

"I'm not exaggerating..." Yugi repeated seriously, his eyes cast down. He held the Puzzle tighter and carressed it. "Everything you do, you seem to do with little trouble and do it so much cooler than anyone I know. Like you are some hero that jumped out of a game, or a shonen protagonist from a manga. But as soon as you need help, I can only do so much...I don't know how to help with your memories, I don't know how I will ever compare to you."

Yugi looked back up after finishing his thoughts. What he got in return was a soft glare. Can a glare be soft? He didn't know, but the expression his Other Self was pulling off was not pleasant. Still, it had that gentle factor that he only held for Yugi.

"You really still think that of yourself after what happened during the duel with Pegasus?" The Other Yugi gently inquired. "After the whole Otogi incident and the fire? I don't think what you think of yourself is true at all. Or of me."

"What do you mean?" Yugi raised his voice slightly in confusion. He shifted uncomfortably when he realized he is still underneath that stare and will be stuck until the conversation is over.

"I only do what is needed to be done in the situations we have been in...I did everything in my power to push all of us forward in our goals and to keep everyone safe, and thankfully I manage to keep winning to do just that. But I only win because I have you and everyone else on my side believing in me. I believe in the person that you all see in me. I am no more special than everyone else." He pauses and half heartedly chuckles with a soft smile. "Actually, I wouldn't be here at all if none of you believed in me. You believing in the Puzzle is what brought me here."

"But...we don't know who you used to be...so what if you were someone important?"

"I don't care if I was." Yugi's heart skipped a beat at that, their recent conversation tickling the forefront of his mind. "It doesn't matter to me if I was a man with power or with none...I want to be here with you."

"Me too..." Yugi echoed the same words like before, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. "But...why do you think so highly of me? I am just...me. Even if I have done some stuff, I am no hero. "

"That's exactly why I think so highly of you. You are you, partner. Kind, compassionate, loyal, and determined to see good in everyone...you do things I could never do, and you have taught me so many things in so little time. I want this ordinary life with you and continue learning from you...and to continue knowing what kindness is like from you."

Yugi smiled at his Other Self and held thr Puzzle closer to him. Almost like a replacement for a hug he could give. The Other Yugi returned the smile and moved his hand to hover the Puzzle, cupping it. A warmth filled Yugi's chest at the return gesture.

"If you believe in me like that..." Yugi began and sniffed a smidge. He let the tears flow as he talked. "Then I definitely promise I will become someone you can be proud of!"

It doesn't matter if you won't tell me why you are so conflicted...but I don't want you to blindly choose to stay here for my sake. You deserve a chance to know more about yourself...I promise also to give you that chance!

"And I will be more than happy to see that happen for myself."

[expatsecuador]

How To Work Remotely From Ecuador

It’s almost the perfect storm for working remotely from Ecuador. COVID 19 has forced a re-think of how we work and the growing gig economy means there have never been as many opportunities to work remotely. 

There were already 7 million people (or 3.4% of the population) working remotely in the US before COVID19 hit in early 2020. 

Once COVID 19 hit, 88% of global organizations encouraged some type of remote working from home arrangement. 

This rapid uptake in companies offering work from home positions means the supply of remote jobs has increased. COVID has effectively forced companies to re-think how they can better accommodate remote employees.

This trend is expected to continue, which will further increase the number of jobs available to remote workers. 

Growing appetite for remote jobs

The following graph shows the trend of people googling ‘remote jobs’ in the US over the past 5 years.

You can see the peaks that correlate to Coronavirus news events of January and March 2020. But, what really interests me are the peaks between July and August, particularly the highest peak of August 16, 2020. 

Why you ask? Because I’d expect to see the peaks of January and March as they would be largely driven by media events relating to the Coronavirus. But, the extended, much higher peaks of July and August indicate a stronger long-term trend of a growing market of employees and employers all interested in the phrase ‘remote jobs’. 

This indicates the overall environment for working remotely is growing significantly. 

Gig economy growing 3x 

The gig economy is simply a name given to contract-based jobs that are performed by freelancers as opposed to full or part-time workers. You probably think of Uber drivers and Amazon delivery personnel. These are certainly included, but the range of jobs is much wider and can include roles from digital marketing, writing, editing, transcription, teaching English online and Amazon Mechanical Turk etc. 

Now, the gig economy is growing at 3x the pace of regular jobs and 36% of US based workers were already in the gig economy in 2018. 

This presents opportunities for you to participate in the gig economy from Ecuador. Sure, you won’t be able to land a role as an Amazon delivery driver, but you don’t have to. There’s plenty of other digital-based opportunities that we touch on below!

What does this mean for Ecuadorian based expats and workers?

This is exciting as it points towards a growing ecosystem for remote or work from home positions. Quite simply, there has never been a better time to start working remotely. 

But, before you pop open the champagne and start flinging your CV around, you should also know that:

Competition for remote jobs is still high

Not all jobs can translate into remote opportunities

Experience for most jobs is still an important consideration

Why work remotely in Ecuador? 

The case for working remotely in Ecuador is very strong. Ecuador is a small country with:

Diverse environment and cultures

Low cost of living

Relative safety

Good (mostly reliable) internet

US friendly with the same timezone and good international flight connections

Generous visas with 90-day tourist stamps issued at the airport for most nationalities. This can be easily extended for another 90 days for a total initial stay of 180 days! 

Several good long term visa options such as the Professional Visa for those that want to stay 2+ years. 

I honestly think there is something in Ecuador to suit most people’s tastes in addition to the popular rhetoric revolving well-preserved city centers, the Galapagos, and volcanoes.

Ecuador’s digital nomad challenges

However, Ecuador is yet to achieve the same level of notoriety as other ‘digital nomad hotspots’ such as Medellin (Colombia), Chiang Mai (Thailand) & Bali (Indonesia). I suspect this is because Ecuador is not as strong in the following areas: 

Nightlife and partying

Relatively small digital nomad community

Not as easy to get by with just English

Immature digital/startup ecosystem

Electronics are expensive to buy and repair (we suggest bringing these with you)

Working remotely for an Ecuadorian vs US/non-Ecuadorian company

Show me the money

If your main priority is making the Benjamins, then hands down it will generally be more attractive to work for a US (or Canadian, European, Australian, etc) company.

The minimum wage in Ecuador is $400 and the average monthly wage ranges depending on the source. It ranges from $460 to $500 to over $1,300. Given the large percentage of informal workers in Ecuador, it’s quite difficult to pin down the actual average monthly salary. 

Whatever the source, you’ll likely find it difficult to land a local job that pays more than $1,000 per month. 

¿Hablas español? 

You will considerably increase your chances of landing a good local job if you speak Spanish fluently. Without it, you’re going to really limit the opportunities available to you. 

If you only speak English, then sticking to English-friendly jobs is a no-brainer until you’ve become fluent in Spanish. 

Some Ecuadorians find success working remotely for companies based in Spain. If you’re Spanish is good enough, this could be a viable option for you too. 

What jobs can you perform remotely from Ecuador?

This is a super expansive question because remote jobs by their nature can be performed just about anywhere. But, I’m going to focus on the more popular options I’ve come across digital nomads or settled expats (like myself) working remotely in Ecuador. 

These are:

Your current/previous role

Teaching English Online

Digital Marketing

Content Writer

Virtual Assistant

Web Development

Web Design

Customer Support

Tourism

Transcription

Build Your Own Website

Investing & Trading

1. Your current/previous role

Many industries are moving towards accommodating remote workers. Some traditional service-based industries such as lawyers, engineers and even medical professionals have even been willing to adopt some degree of remoteness. 

So, you’d be surprised at the types of jobs that can be at least partially completed remotely. I’d suggest it’s absolutely worthwhile going through your previous jobs/careers to see if there is any chance you can perform a similar role remotely. If there is, don’t be afraid to reach out to old colleagues and bosses with some potential options on how you can be a valuable remote contributor. 

2. Teaching English Online

There has been a boon in recent times teaching English to students via the internet. This charge has been led by the burgeoning Chinese middle-class that has a seemingly endless appetite for ensuring their kids receive the highest level of education from an early age.  

How much can I make teaching online?

Average earnings vary greatly but expect to earn between $10-$25 per hour. This is generally paid as a contractor, so don’t expect health insurance or other benefits. 

Requirements

Whilst requirements vary by company, the following are pretty standard requirements. 

Native English speaker (some also accept native-level fluency)

TEFL certificate

University degree

Available during peak learning times (before / after school)

Unbridled enthusiasm

The timezone requirement here can be a challenge when teaching from Ecuador. For example, if you’re teaching kids in China, the majority of parents book for 6:00-10:00pm (Beijing time). This is 5:00 – 9:00am in Ecuador.

Whilst you’re generally awarded flexibility when booking your class times, you may be required to teach a certain number of ‘peak hours’ for your contract to be renewed. Or if you don’t open up to peak times you may just not get many students booking you. This is especially true for new teachers. 

Some companies also require a US accent. These are generally the bigger, more established companies like VIP Kid. I’ve always found this requirement a little bit weird – as these companies are happy to take on teachers with say, a strong southern drawl, but reject applicants that have neutral accents that are not from the US. 

Whilst I’ve never taught English online, I’ve spent far too much time around others while they are conducting their lessons.

Full disclosure: my biggest learning from this is that I know I am not equipped for teaching kids online. Why you ask? The amount of enthusiasm required to keep their attention, the monotony of teaching the same classes over and over again and the sheer patience required are too much for me. 

But, I know many people that really enjoy teaching online and thrive in that environment. Horses for courses. 

Which companies offer online teaching jobs? 

The following companies are popular starting points: 

VIP Kid

Magic Ears

DaDa ABC

Say ABC

Landi

PalFish

Some of these companies also offer their current teachers referral bonuses if they bring on new teachers. As the incentive is only generally paid for successful applicants once they teach a certain number of classes, it’s in the best interests of the original teacher to coach their recruits to ensure they get paid. 

As a new teacher, it might be worthwhile seeking these people out on various forums or Facebook groups. Some initial coaching on what each company truly looks for can be invaluable. On the flip side, I’ve seen some incredibly intelligent, hard-working teachers with years of experience get knocked back for seemingly trivial oversights. 

3. Digital Marketing

Digital marketing is a broad industry that covers everything from social media, content marketing, search engine optimization, paid ads, email, automation and more. Now, I’m clearly biased because this is what I do, but I still see so much potential for new entrants into this field. 

I’ve worked as a digital marketer for agencies, startups and large corporations. There is a lot of opportunity in this area because it’s constantly evolving and digital channels continue to eat into the budgets of traditional mediums like print, TV and radio. 

If I was just starting out, I’d concentrate on getting good at one small aspect of digital marketing and offering it as a service to clients via platforms such as Upwork, Legiit or even Fiverr. 

Offering a specialized service is key. The types of niche services I’m talking about include:

Chat bot building

Email automation

Instagram management

PPC (pay per click) management for [insert industry]

Once you’ve had some success for clients with your niche offering, then you can either use this experience to either broaden into other areas or use the experience to apply for marketing jobs either in-house or at an agency. 

4. Content writer

Do you enjoy writing? And do you have detailed knowledge about particular industries? If so, then producing content could be a good option for you.

Many people are surprised to learn how important content is for any digital marketing strategy. And whilst the competition is high because there is a low barrier to entry, the demand for good, dependable writers continues to increase. 

For example, I know writers that produce content in certain niches such as legal, medical and engineering that make a very comfortable living ($4K+ monthly). 

Think this could be for you? Great. Start writing about a topic that you: 

Have pre-existing knowledge

Suspect is commercially valuable (basically any business that spends on marketing)

Enjoy

This 3rd point is key; enjoyment is critical to your long-term success. You don’t want to be in a position where you’re staring at the computer, digging deep for words that just don’t come because you aren’t passionate about the industry. 

My last tip is that you don’t want to fall into the trap of offering cheap writing services because you don’t understand your worth. There are loads of cheap general writers out there that are just terrible. Positioning yourself as a niche specialist will earn your more money and allow you to provide better quality to your clients as you know one subject intimately. 

5. Virtual assistant

Virtual assistants for all types of industries are in demand. It’s true that there is more demand at the lower end of the price spectrum (ie $5/hour), but this is not where you should position yourself. Again, specializing in a particular industry or skill will set you apart and allow you to command a higher rate ($15-$25 / hr). 

This can be a great option for those that maybe don’t see themselves learning a new technology-based skill and can focus on their organizing, communication, and planning skills instead. 

There’s plenty of virtual assistant jobs in the freelancer platforms listed below. 

6. Web development

One of the most remote-friendly industries is web development. But, this is not for the faint-hearted as web development takes a lot of learning and practice before you can start applying for your 1st job. Thankfully, there’s plenty of great free or cheap resources out there if you want to pursue this angle. 

I recommend this free Introduction to Python course by MIT to start your journey – especially if you’re interested in data analysis and AI. 

7. Web design

Have an eye for clean lines and attention to detail with a creative flair? Pursuing web or graphic design might be worthwhile pursuing. It’s very remote-friendly with lots of designers working from home or wherever they choose. 

It’s one of the few jobs I’ve seen Ecuadorians perform remotely for locally based companies. 

But, building up the skills and portfolio also takes time. There are loads of cheap tutorials to teach you the theory (such as Udemy) and tools (ie Photoshop & Illustrator), but some companies still only take on candidates with formal design related degrees. 

8. Customer Support

This one can be a real gem in the rough. The prevalence of digital platforms and SAAS products has created many roles for virtual customer support agents. These are the types of roles that were once handled by call center support operators, just repurposed for the online format. 

As many customer support roles rely on set hours, being in the same timezone as the US can make these roles ideal for Ecuadorian-based applicants. 

You also don’t generally need a lot of experience, so the barrier to entry is low but competition can be high. 

One perk for this type of work is that some very forward-thinking, remote-friendly companies employ a lot of customer support agents. This potentially allows you to work your way up into other roles within a world-class company. 

These roles can be found on remote job boards and directly with the company. 

9. Tourism

Yes, I know the tourism industry is having a hard time since COVID, but I think it’s safe to say that we all love traveling and will be wandering the globe again shortly. Michelle works in tourism and can’t wait for the tourists to come back!

When they do (and they will) there will be demand for sales and travel advisors that speak English. You may even be able to find an Ecuadorian based job if you’re primarily dealing with English speaking clients. 

But, if you’re thinking of becoming a tour guide in Ecuador, then I’m sorry, that is much more difficult. It involves a 4-year degree within Ecuador (or possibly transferring some credits from a related degree back home to shorten the period of study). 

Some tour companies do send tour leaders to accompany their guests whilst in Ecuador. But, these are generally associated with the company and not a separate service you could just provide from Ecuador. 

10. Transcription 

Can you type, are a fantastic listener, and are just crazy about details? Then transcribing could be the side gig for you. 

The proliferation of the ability to record audio (ie mobile phones) has meant that everyone has easy access to record business meetings and other commercially important events. But, going through these audio notes is a real pain, so companies can opt to cheaply outsource the transcribing of audio to written notes.

There’s also the specialized fields of legal and medical transcription that tend to pay more. 

One of the more beginner-friendly companies to try is TranscribeMe. They basically accept anyone so long as you pass the tests. The pay starts at $15 per audio hour. This means that you need to transcribe one hour’s worth of conversation (not work for one hour). As a beginner, it’s realistically going to take you 3 hours to transcribe one hours worth of audio. So, your hourly rate shifts to $5/hr. 

My transcription experience

In the spirit of trying anything once, I did previously give transcribing a shot. I figured I’m a fast typer, so transcribing would be a walk in the park. I was wrong. 

You see, AI voice to text technology has come a long way. So, recordings that can easily be converted from audio to text are done by computers with some light human intervention. This costs much less than having a person transcribe, so it remains the obvious choice for transcription where possible. 

So what audio is left for you to transcribe? Difficult audio. Think of someone recording a meeting on their phone (no special microphone or anything) and trying to type out notes at the same time. What you end up hearing is a mess of sounds that can be very difficult to decipher what words are said. And this is assuming there is no accent to deal with. 

I don’t want to turn you off giving transcribing a shot too, but you should go in with your eyes wide open. 

11. Build your own website 

This isn’t so much a ‘job’ or ‘role’ exactly. It’s more of a long-term opportunity to increase your income. There’s plenty of niches that are still far from reaching market saturation. Creating your own site around one of these niches can really pay off long-term. 

But, it’s going to take you at least 6 months of consistent effort to start seeing any sort of results. It’s common to see people start their own sites, then give up after a few weeks worth of effort. And I get it. It can be super frustrating if you don’t see results and have no real way of knowing if the results are going to eventuate (they may not if you’ve chosen a niche that is too competitive). 

If you happen to be fluent in Spanish too, then you’ve now got two very different markets to pursue – and twice the amount of work! But, given the low competition in Ecuador, you should be able to see results in just about any industry. 

I’m constantly coming up with ideas for Ecuadorian based websites that I know will work, but I just don’t have the time to pursue. I know you’ll have some good ideas of your own. 

If you want to try your hand at building your first website, I recommend grabbing a cheap theme from Themeforest and either updating the content/images yourself, or paying someone to mock it together for you. 

I’ve had a few people approach me to build their sites, but it’s not something I currently offer as a once-off service. Why? Because a website without marketing is a waste of time and won’t get results. If you’re potentially interested in ongoing marketing services + website build, then feel free to get in contact. 

12. Investing & Trading

The last option on the list is my favorite for building long-term wealth. Trading and investing. Many expats are familiar with the attractive rates offered for fixed term deposits (or CDs) by cooperativa’s such as JEP in Ecuador. Some choose to invest in these as a requirement for their Investor Visa, whilst others actively choose them because of the high interest rates between 8-10%. 

This is most definitely NOT investment advice as there are reasons why such high interests rates are offered. I’m just leaving it here as an option for you to know that there are expats in Ecuador that live entirely off the interest from their CDs. 

Trading stocks, bonds, crypto (ie Bitcoin) and other assets is also a viable option as you can do it from anywhere. I believe there are small trading groups setup in the major cities, but don’t be surprised if your Ecuadorian friends don’t actively invest or know alot about the financial markets. 

Where to find remote jobs

We’ve established there is a lot of opportunity across many different fields for remote workers, but where the hell do you find these jobs? 

Here are my recommendations for starting your search:

1. Your current network

My path to working online was through a previous employer that already valued my work. We’d already built trust, making it a lot easier for them to embrace the other unknowns that come with remote work relationships. 

So, before you go off and try and learn another skill that you can utilize to work from home, I suggest reaching out to your current network. Perhaps offering to work for a lesser amount during a probation period to further de-risk it for your potential employer. 

2. Freelancer platforms

These sites all work on the basic principle that you sign up by creating a profile of your work history and skills. You can then start applying for different jobs. 

Outsourcely

Outsourcely aims to connect “remote workers” with clients around the world. It’s a good place to find long term client relationships. 

Upwork

The biggest freelancer site out there. But, they also take a large cut. 20% of your first $500 goes to Upwork, then a sliding scale from there. 

Note, if applying for US based jobs, it really helps to ensure you have a valid US ID. This unlocks a lot of the better US based jobs as clients have the option of only selecting US based candidates. 

You get some credits called “connects” initially, but then you need to pay for more in order to apply for jobs. You need to invest in the platform (both time and money) before you’re going to get to most out of it. 

Freelancer

Biggest genuine competitor to Upwork. They also operate on a paywall model where you need to invest in some of their premium features in order to get the most from your job search. 

People Per Hour 

Focus is more geared towards on entry-level jobs. This can be great for newer remote workers, but experienced workers may have a tough time as they are more likely to be under-bid by less qualified professionals. 

Fiverr

A great place for new remote workers to get some experience before moving onto higher paying gigs. Reputation for being the cheapest place to get work done – and more often than not you get what you pay for…

3. Job Boards

I’ve focused on job boards that cater towards remote positions below. You can of course use general job boards too, but you may end up spending a lot of time searching for remote-friendly roles. 

This list is far from exhaustive as job boards catering for remote workers seem to pop up every week.

LinkedIn

Great starting place because there are lots of jobs. But, also lots of competition. 

We Work Remotely

One of the oldest remote job boards still as popular as ever. 

Dynamite Jobs

Human curated job board. All posted jobs checked to ensure valid and paid. 

Remotive

Focus on software development, but good mix of other jobs too. 

Working Nomads

Also offer an email of curated jobs if you sign up (free). 

4. Facebook groups

There are numerous Facebook Groups setup that can also help you in your job search. Here’s some you should start with: 

Digital Nomads Around the World

Large community that focuses on digital nomad issues and job postings. Not specific to any geography. 

Ecuador Expats

Largest Facebook group for Ecuadorian based expat info. Some good insights on general Ecuadorian matters. 

Ecuador Digital Nomads

Smaller group for digital nomads and remote workers based in Ecuador to connect and share. Disclaimer: I’m a moderator of this group so you’ll get more tips from me if you join. 

5. Direct with company

Once you find a job worth applying for, I suggest trying to apply directly on the company’s website. Why? Because it shows you went just the extra yard to do some research about the company and that you care. You can also try to find the person responsible for hiring so you can address your CV to them. These smaller details are needed to get noticed in the competitive job market. 

I also suggest setting up Google Alerts for you 5 dream companies. For example, assume you really wanted to work for Slack in their customer support team. Then you’d setup an alert to track the phrase: slack “customer success”. You’ll then be emailed as soon as new jobs come up and can apply right away to be ahead of your competition. 

Final Words

The future looks great for remote workers that choose to work from Ecuador. It’s such a great destination for those that love to mix work with weekend trips to the jungle, beach, mountains or even the Galapagos.

The long-term trend clearly indicates there will be more opportunities for remote workers. So basing yourself in Ecuador to capitalize on this trend makes so much sense that it’s kinda shocking there aren’t more nomads and expats choosing to do the same.

Lastly – if you’re currently (or thinking of) working remotely from Ecuador, you should Join our Ecuador Digital Nomads group to connect with others.

from Expats Ecuador https://expatsecuador.com/work-remotely/

[yuna-dan]

Blame the kids

I have no comments on why Im updating so soon, don’t get used to. I normally don’t update my long-fics that fast… Yesterday I couldn’t sleep (Someone had a panic attack…) so I decided to write…

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you all so much for the feedback!! I’m super thrilled and happy!!

Summary: Logan was a dedicated teacher. Marion was a social worker with two kids. The kids were jerks.

Warning: Some drama, cursing and bad enlgish.

Based on: Single! Dad with two kids and Teacher! Logic by @prinxietys (if me tagging you makes u uncomfortable make me know plssss)

Last chapter here

There's a huge misconception of kids. People believe they don't notice stuff and that most of the time they're oblivious, but they're not. 

Most of the kids notice what's happening around them. Like for example Roman, who notice the way his dad would smile a little bit wider when he picked them up from school, or the way Mr. Logic stay more in the school just to said goodbye to his dad. 

Or Alex, who even if he didn't comment, he noticed the fidgeting in Morality's fingers when he mentioned something related to that class or how Mr. Sanders would glanced at him for few seconds. 

But, at the end of the day, they were kids... weren't they?

 When you're a workaholic dedicated father, you don't date. There's actually a moment where "kissing" and "face-sucking" means the same. 

It had passed two weeks since the talk between the adults and though the kids still fought a lot, they were behaving better. Just a little…

Marion pulled over the car, noticing the kids were already at the entrance of the school, with nonetheless than with (his) their favorite teacher next to them. Though something was odd. 

"Oh no," he got off the car, "What they do this time?"

"You seriously don't have faith on me." Alexander huffed, crossing his arms. 

"I have enough faith in you to do a faith palm," Morality laughed while the kids rolled his eyes, "What happened Logan?"

"Nothing really, he just wanted your cellphone but we don't know it." Roman blurted as if it was the most obvious thing. 

Both adults blushed faintly, while the younger kid, once again, rolled his eyes. 

Logan fidget a little, not knowing exactly what to do or where to look, "It's—umm you know, better for the kids. If they ever need you I can called you directly."

"Sure. It's that." Alexander rolled his eyes. 

"If you keep doing that Alex, your eyes will fall." Morality scolded, then turned his attention to the teacher, "Sure, it's..." and proceeded to tell him, they quickly changed numbers and soon the family disappeared.

Three days passed when Marion received the first text. It was a photo, of a drawing presumably Alex did. It was just a landscape, with a rainbow and some birds. It was cute. 

Then it was the photo of a Roman with a black eye. Morality gasped terrified…

Text Message:

From: Logan Sanders

To: You

Text: Roman tried to tear apart the drawing of Alexander who got mad. They get into a fight. Roman is on the infirmary right now, Alexander is talking with the principal. Just so you could get here in time.  

Morality sighed. 

From: You

To: Logan Sanders 

Text: It was meant to happened. They haven't fight in a lot time. Thanks for the warning tho ;).  

Morality blocked the phone. 

"And here I was waiting to get a free coffee." He took his cardigan, and went to his car. 

Logic put his hand on the shoulder of Alexander, they were waiting outside the principal's office. Apparently when a kid used force against other kid it's bad. 

"It's okay Alexander. Marion won't be mad." He said gently. Oh yeah, Marion was already talking with her. "What I meant it's that he will be mad, but it's not irretrievable."

"I don't like being call Alexander." He mumbled, and Logic has to lean in order to listened it. 

"It's going to be okay, Alex." And he smiled, squeezing his shoulder. 

"It won't. I screw everything up and finally my da—Morality will realize I'm not good enough." But all he did is nod. 

Marion really hated formality. He also worked with kids, he didn't understand why teachers and principals had the need to make themselves feel scary. They should be trustworthy, not scary. 

He nodded not really paying attention to whatever the lady was saying. He knew Alex had issues regarding rage but he was working on them. 

"All I'm saying it's that Alexander is a little problematic." 

Wait, what? 

"He's not problematic. He's a kid who has been through a lot. Besides, they're brothers! It's normal for them to fight!"  He didn't mean to raise his voice, or did he?

"Foster-brothers," she corrected, and he rolled his eyes almost unconsciously. "And that's the point I wanted to arrive."

"Good. Me too. They're brothers. Bye-bye." He was about to stand up when he heard the teacher said,

"Don't you think it's time to give up?"

"Excuse me?" He raised his eyebrows and sat again. 

"I mean. Alexander hasn't make a single progress ever since he entered the school. He does not have friends. He fights back to all the teachers. You see now what happened! He punched his adoptive brother just because he tried to tear his drawing!" She found herself almost shouting. 

"Miss, they are not broken toys who can be returned just because you get bored. You can't give back one just because! They are actual human beings with feelings! Alexander is doing great, the fact that you and your stupid school can't notice it it's not his problem! And guess what?!? Maybe you won't notice because you are so engrossed in create jocks and perfect students that you won't noticed anything else!" He was enraged. How dare she? How dare she speak like that about a freaking kid?! His kid nonetheless! 

"All I'm saying…"

"Is that you clearly do not possess tolerance, intelligence and the skills to be running a school!" He shouted, not even caring the people outside that door could hear him. "Thank you miss, god day." 

He stormed out.

Roman was holding an ice package on his eye, while moaning in pain. "It hurts! I've never been in so much pain!"

"Oh, I can help." Alex add quickly, earning a glare from both figures in front of him. Marion was checking his eyes, turning his face from left to right. 

"I think you both need to say something." Marion said after making sure his dramatic kid was okay. 

"I'm sorry I didn't hit you harder." "I'm sorry I couldn't tear it completely."

"Kids..." he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Alex's eyes widened for a moment in terror, he turned his eyes to the ceiling before mumbling. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard, I'm sorry I hurt I you."

Roman’s eyes did the same and Morality shoot him a look, making him talk. "Your art didn't suck. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." He mumbled. 

Marion actually beamed at that.

It was night when he heard the tossing and whining. He silently made his way to Alex's room.  

Alexander was distressed in his dream. He was sweating and his mouth was opened, as if he was trying to scream but the air wasn't enough. 

"Alex, sweetie. Everything is okay. Dad is here." He gently shook him, waiting for his son to wake up. He glanced at the Alex's phone resting on the night table. 

2:30 am. 

Alex woke up, choking a scream. "It's fine baby. I'm here." He took the kid into an embrace and felt the tears of his son wetting his shirt. 

"It's fine. You're safe, baby. It's okay." He continued saying positive things to his kid, while rocking and gently humming a song. 

When he thought, Alex was asleep, he would gently try to tug him in bed, but he would hold tighter. "Please don't go." 

"I'm here. I'm here."  He kissed his forehead, "I won't go baby."

It was about 5:00 am when he finally managed to get out of the room of his son. He went quickly to checked on Roman, just because. 

He was snoring softly, the ice package next to him and the phone on the floor. 

He snapped a picture of his kid, and went back to his room. 

He hadn't planned on going back to sleep, he couldn't. He could just work or cook. 

Baking would be awesome!  

And so, he was about to went to the kitchen when his phone rang.

Logan cursed himself after the fifth 'peeep'. Of course, Marion would be asleep! Only and idiot like himself would called someone else at this hour! 

"Hulk's deli. You order, we smash." He heard someone at the other line. 

"Marion?" 

"That would be me, what's up Logan?"

"Nothing. I was. Sorry to bother you, I probably woke you up."

"Not really. Alex had a bad dream so I wasn't even asleep."

"That's why I called!" He said excitedly, "How are them? How are you? The principal is a jerk..."

"Oh yeah, she is. We're fine, thanks for asking Logan." He waited a minute before adding, "You? I hope the kids didn't cause you any trouble."

"Nah, not really..."

"Soooo... Have you ever wonder why flamingos sleep with one leg up?"

And so, they continue talking until 7:00 am. 

No regrets.

It was breakfast when Alex entered the kitchen, noticing that Roman was already eating his cereal.  

"Morality, have you seen my hoodie? I don't find it in my room."

"You're not going to school Alex." The kid frowned, hating when Marion get all protective. 

Yeah, he had a bad dream? So, what?

"What? why?!? I'm the one who was hit. I should be the one resting."

"He's suspended. See, that actually happens when you hit other kids!" He snapped at both kids. 

"But he's not other kid! He's my brother!" He yelled back. 

"Who happens to be a kid!" Even though his face was serious he couldn't hide the excitement out of his voice. 

He acknowledged his brother for the first time. 

From; You

To: Logic

HE CALL HIS VROTHER. HOLLYMOLLY I.

When Logic checked his messages, that was the only one that was important. Even if he cringed a little with the misspelled word  

Three second later another arrived

From: Morality

To: You

Brother* sorry, I was excited lol 

Alexander was falling asleep again when his bother entered his room. “You know I could fail sick and we could watch the new series of Tangled and Steven Universe…” he suggested, siting on his bed.

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

 And Alex pretend he was alone while watching the TV.

And Roman pretend to be sick.

And Marion pretend to believe them.

When the kids went back to school, that was three days later, Logan was really happy to see them.

Even if they still shout to each other.

A lot 

They’ve been exchanging message for a few weeks now. Just funny pictures and chatting about all kind of stuff. It was nice. To both of them.

It was pretty nice

 From: You

To: Logic 

Text: u know? The kids just asked me somwthing weird.

From: Logic

To: You

Text: Do they? What did they say?

From: You

To: Logic Sanders 

Text: Theyve been wondering if u ever going to asked me out.

Im not sorry for that ending. No one bit XDD. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! And yes, the text messages were written like that on purpose. 

Also if you want to know the song its this one  (though u can change the word mother by the word father)

(Im super excited for today’s video!! I cant wait to see it and im smiling all the time, which is super weird lately because I’m an effing mess)

Update: I change the name of Princey because I like it Roman More (24 march)

[symbianosgames]

Making any game is a risky undertaking, but making a game in a niche is going to be twice as daunting. When that niche is local multiplayer, a format that has more obstacles to play than any other, that’s a lot of risk to take on.

“When we were making Sportsfriends, we would talk about how the hardware platform for couch multiplayer isn’t a particular console or operating system; it’s gamers who have more than one controller,” says Bennett Foddy, creator of Super Pole Riders & QWOP. “That platform declined enormously when the console manufacturers stopped packing two controllers in with their consoles, and it declined again with the rise of network multiplayer games. By the early 2000s there was basically nowhere to play couch multiplayer games, especially because most PC owners didn’t even have a single controller.”

Despite that, we’re seeing local-multiplayer games become more and more common over the past few years, and alongside that they’re often novel, mechanically experimental and generally great fun. Which raises the question: Why make your game local multiplayer rather than online?

We spoke to the Foddy, as well as the developers of Overcooked and Spaceteam, about the appeal of developing a local multiplayer game.

Foddy's Super Pole Riders.

"Some of my fondest gaming memories involved gathering round a screen with my friends or my family, and that just felt like an experience we really wanted to try and recapture."

Today, the proliferation of fast and reliable internet connections has left online multiplayer perhaps the most successful branch of video games in the world -- look at the likes of Dota 2 and League of Legends. The fact that these online multiplayer juggernauts haven’t completely squashed local multiplayer suggests that the experiences aren't really comparable. 

“For us, the appeal of making a local multiplayer game was that we had grown up playing those kind of games,” says Phil Duncan, designer o local co-op cooking game Overcooked. “Some of my fondest gaming memories involved gathering round a screen with my friends or my family, and that just felt like an experience we really wanted to try and recapture.”

In addition to the uniquely intimate experience, local multiplayer also avoids some of the biggest headaches that developers of online multiplayer games must grapple with. “With internet multiplayer you have to worry about cheating, griefing, unresponsive players, ping times/lag/latency, text chat/voice chat, servers, state synchronization, matchmaking, NAT punchthrough, downtime, player accounts, profanity, privacy issues,” Henry Smith, of Spaceteam fame, tells me. “There are companies selling Backend-as-a-Service products just to solve all these problems.”

Overcooked, which Phil Duncan worked on.

These problems can represent a large cost for developers in terms of both time and money. Nidhogg, one of the most compelling and downright fun local-multiplayer games made in the past few years, was plagued with online issues after launch. It struggled to translate the frenetic feel that it had been creating excitement around at demo events into the online space. 

“If you’re designing an internet multiplayer game, you have a huge number of constraints, but the main one is this: for any given series of events in the game, those events might happen at a different time, or even in a different order, on different people’s computers,” Foddy explains. “If I was designing Towerfall for an internet connection, I’d need to either slow the arrows right down (so they can be course-corrected to match everyone’s computer) or make them infinitely fast (so that players don’t notice any discrepancies in flight). It would be a very different game. These are the reasons why certain genres, like FPS, RTS and MOBA games, are so much more popular than other genres of online games.”

Matt Makes Games' Towerfall.

So a wider range of design options, fewer technical constraints, and a little dose of nostalgia certainly go a way to explaining the steady flow of local multiplayer games over the past few years. But Henry Smith asserts that it’s more than that. “It's mostly unexplored territory," he says. "There's so much room for experimentation and new experiences and new audiences. I get quite a few Spaceteam reviews that say 'I'm not a gamer, but I love your game' or 'This is the only game on my phone!.' People are playing with their kids and grandparents and their teachers. Seems to me like there are some great opportunities here.”

The fear is that you’re putting restrictions on the ‘when’ of your game, rather than the ‘how’. Instead of relying on someone merely being interested in playing your game, you need them to be interested and have enough people to play it with and have enough controllers. The trade off, Foddy tells me, is that developing local multiplayer is just plain fun. 

Bari Bari Ball, which was part of Sportsfriends along with Super Pole Riders.

“Making a good local multiplayer game can be more enjoyable than making a good single player game," he says. "With local multiplayer games, as soon as you add the most basic functionality and placeholder art, you call over your friend to play it and you’re instantly having a good time. With single player games, there can sometimes be months or even years of work before you have your first enjoyable playtest.’

“The best local multiplayer experiences involve deep competitive gameplay, but they also bring out a spirit of social fun and camaraderie, and a party atmosphere that is completely absent in networked multiplayer games," he adds. "That’s the major draw for me.”

Both Duncan and Smith gave me variations of the same answer when I asked them why we were seeing more local multiplayer games, and that’s that there is just more people playing games these days. 

“My guess is that games are getting more diverse and inclusive in general, and they're losing some of their stigma, so more people want to join in,” Smith tells me. “They might be people you hang out with anyway, or your family, or roommates, so adding games to the mix is a pretty natural extension.”

Messhof's Nidhogg.

Duncan agrees: “The way we look at it was that most people live with someone; be that their family, their partner, housemates etc. and that most games don’t allow for these people to play together in the same space (either because they don’t cater for players of different ages/abilities or simply because they don’t allow same screen multiplayer). We wanted to create a game that people could play together with their friends or their family in the same space and which would allow people who maybe don’t play many games all that much to have fun together.”

As the interest in these novel experiences grows, so too does the ability to play them. While digital is a big factor in actually getting these games into the hands of those who want to play them, the proliferation of control methods is growing too. This is exemplified by Smith’s Spaceteam, which uses mobile devices as the controllers. It even works to the game’s benefit, as having your own screen and not seeing those of the people you’re playing with is an essential element of Spaceteam’s chaos and confusion. 

A group playing Henry Smith's Spaceteam.

“I try to design for the unique strengths of the platform and environment I'm using,” Smith explains. “For local multiplayer games, that means things like: being able to see and talk to other players directly, a shared screen or small play area, the possibility of spectators. For phone games like Spaceteam, there are additional aspects: touch input, movable devices, ability to play in different physical locations, seeing other players' screens.”

There is no single answer to why you might want to make a local multiplayer game, but from talking to Foddy, Smith and Duncan, what’s clear is that, primarily, the time from idea to playtesting is an extremely short one, relative to other types of games. That means that during the development, you’re going to be constantly iterating in a very hands-on way, able to get an idea of how your game feels and plays throughout the development, rather than after you’ve done a chunk of work. When you think of it in that way, it’s hard not to see it as an attractive prospect. 

[symbianosgames]

Making any game is a risky undertaking, but making a game in a niche is going to be twice as daunting. When that niche is local multiplayer, a format that has more obstacles to play than any other, that’s a lot of risk to take on.

“When we were making Sportsfriends, we would talk about how the hardware platform for couch multiplayer isn’t a particular console or operating system; it’s gamers who have more than one controller,” says Bennett Foddy, creator of Super Pole Riders & QWOP. “That platform declined enormously when the console manufacturers stopped packing two controllers in with their consoles, and it declined again with the rise of network multiplayer games. By the early 2000s there was basically nowhere to play couch multiplayer games, especially because most PC owners didn’t even have a single controller.”

Despite that, we’re seeing local-multiplayer games become more and more common over the past few years, and alongside that they’re often novel, mechanically experimental and generally great fun. Which raises the question: Why make your game local multiplayer rather than online?

We spoke to the Foddy, as well as the developers of Overcooked and Spaceteam, about the appeal of developing a local multiplayer game.

Foddy's Super Pole Riders.

"Some of my fondest gaming memories involved gathering round a screen with my friends or my family, and that just felt like an experience we really wanted to try and recapture."

Today, the proliferation of fast and reliable internet connections has left online multiplayer perhaps the most successful branch of video games in the world -- look at the likes of Dota 2 and League of Legends. The fact that these online multiplayer juggernauts haven’t completely squashed local multiplayer suggests that the experiences aren't really comparable. 

“For us, the appeal of making a local multiplayer game was that we had grown up playing those kind of games,” says Phil Duncan, designer o local co-op cooking game Overcooked. “Some of my fondest gaming memories involved gathering round a screen with my friends or my family, and that just felt like an experience we really wanted to try and recapture.”

In addition to the uniquely intimate experience, local multiplayer also avoids some of the biggest headaches that developers of online multiplayer games must grapple with. “With internet multiplayer you have to worry about cheating, griefing, unresponsive players, ping times/lag/latency, text chat/voice chat, servers, state synchronization, matchmaking, NAT punchthrough, downtime, player accounts, profanity, privacy issues,” Henry Smith, of Spaceteam fame, tells me. “There are companies selling Backend-as-a-Service products just to solve all these problems.”

Overcooked, which Phil Duncan worked on.

These problems can represent a large cost for developers in terms of both time and money. Nidhogg, one of the most compelling and downright fun local-multiplayer games made in the past few years, was plagued with online issues after launch. It struggled to translate the frenetic feel that it had been creating excitement around at demo events into the online space. 

“If you’re designing an internet multiplayer game, you have a huge number of constraints, but the main one is this: for any given series of events in the game, those events might happen at a different time, or even in a different order, on different people’s computers,” Foddy explains. “If I was designing Towerfall for an internet connection, I’d need to either slow the arrows right down (so they can be course-corrected to match everyone’s computer) or make them infinitely fast (so that players don’t notice any discrepancies in flight). It would be a very different game. These are the reasons why certain genres, like FPS, RTS and MOBA games, are so much more popular than other genres of online games.”

Matt Makes Games' Towerfall.

So a wider range of design options, fewer technical constraints, and a little dose of nostalgia certainly go a way to explaining the steady flow of local multiplayer games over the past few years. But Henry Smith asserts that it’s more than that. “It's mostly unexplored territory," he says. "There's so much room for experimentation and new experiences and new audiences. I get quite a few Spaceteam reviews that say 'I'm not a gamer, but I love your game' or 'This is the only game on my phone!.' People are playing with their kids and grandparents and their teachers. Seems to me like there are some great opportunities here.”

The fear is that you’re putting restrictions on the ‘when’ of your game, rather than the ‘how’. Instead of relying on someone merely being interested in playing your game, you need them to be interested and have enough people to play it with and have enough controllers. The trade off, Foddy tells me, is that developing local multiplayer is just plain fun. 

Bari Bari Ball, which was part of Sportsfriends along with Super Pole Riders.

“Making a good local multiplayer game can be more enjoyable than making a good single player game," he says. "With local multiplayer games, as soon as you add the most basic functionality and placeholder art, you call over your friend to play it and you’re instantly having a good time. With single player games, there can sometimes be months or even years of work before you have your first enjoyable playtest.’

“The best local multiplayer experiences involve deep competitive gameplay, but they also bring out a spirit of social fun and camaraderie, and a party atmosphere that is completely absent in networked multiplayer games," he adds. "That’s the major draw for me.”

Both Duncan and Smith gave me variations of the same answer when I asked them why we were seeing more local multiplayer games, and that’s that there is just more people playing games these days. 

“My guess is that games are getting more diverse and inclusive in general, and they're losing some of their stigma, so more people want to join in,” Smith tells me. “They might be people you hang out with anyway, or your family, or roommates, so adding games to the mix is a pretty natural extension.”

Messhof's Nidhogg.

Duncan agrees: “The way we look at it was that most people live with someone; be that their family, their partner, housemates etc. and that most games don’t allow for these people to play together in the same space (either because they don’t cater for players of different ages/abilities or simply because they don’t allow same screen multiplayer). We wanted to create a game that people could play together with their friends or their family in the same space and which would allow people who maybe don’t play many games all that much to have fun together.”

As the interest in these novel experiences grows, so too does the ability to play them. While digital is a big factor in actually getting these games into the hands of those who want to play them, the proliferation of control methods is growing too. This is exemplified by Smith’s Spaceteam, which uses mobile devices as the controllers. It even works to the game’s benefit, as having your own screen and not seeing those of the people you’re playing with is an essential element of Spaceteam’s chaos and confusion. 

A group playing Henry Smith's Spaceteam.

“I try to design for the unique strengths of the platform and environment I'm using,” Smith explains. “For local multiplayer games, that means things like: being able to see and talk to other players directly, a shared screen or small play area, the possibility of spectators. For phone games like Spaceteam, there are additional aspects: touch input, movable devices, ability to play in different physical locations, seeing other players' screens.”

There is no single answer to why you might want to make a local multiplayer game, but from talking to Foddy, Smith and Duncan, what’s clear is that, primarily, the time from idea to playtesting is an extremely short one, relative to other types of games. That means that during the development, you’re going to be constantly iterating in a very hands-on way, able to get an idea of how your game feels and plays throughout the development, rather than after you’ve done a chunk of work. When you think of it in that way, it’s hard not to see it as an attractive prospect. 

[symbianosgames]

Making any game is a risky undertaking, but making a game in a niche is going to be twice as daunting. When that niche is local multiplayer, a format that has more obstacles to play than any other, that’s a lot of risk to take on.

“When we were making Sportsfriends, we would talk about how the hardware platform for couch multiplayer isn’t a particular console or operating system; it’s gamers who have more than one controller,” says Bennett Foddy, creator of Super Pole Riders & QWOP. “That platform declined enormously when the console manufacturers stopped packing two controllers in with their consoles, and it declined again with the rise of network multiplayer games. By the early 2000s there was basically nowhere to play couch multiplayer games, especially because most PC owners didn’t even have a single controller.”

Despite that, we’re seeing local-multiplayer games become more and more common over the past few years, and alongside that they’re often novel, mechanically experimental and generally great fun. Which raises the question: Why make your game local multiplayer rather than online?

We spoke to the Foddy, as well as the developers of Overcooked and Spaceteam, about the appeal of developing a local multiplayer game.

Foddy's Super Pole Riders.

"Some of my fondest gaming memories involved gathering round a screen with my friends or my family, and that just felt like an experience we really wanted to try and recapture."

Today, the proliferation of fast and reliable internet connections has left online multiplayer perhaps the most successful branch of video games in the world -- look at the likes of Dota 2 and League of Legends. The fact that these online multiplayer juggernauts haven’t completely squashed local multiplayer suggests that the experiences aren't really comparable. 

“For us, the appeal of making a local multiplayer game was that we had grown up playing those kind of games,” says Phil Duncan, designer o local co-op cooking game Overcooked. “Some of my fondest gaming memories involved gathering round a screen with my friends or my family, and that just felt like an experience we really wanted to try and recapture.”

In addition to the uniquely intimate experience, local multiplayer also avoids some of the biggest headaches that developers of online multiplayer games must grapple with. “With internet multiplayer you have to worry about cheating, griefing, unresponsive players, ping times/lag/latency, text chat/voice chat, servers, state synchronization, matchmaking, NAT punchthrough, downtime, player accounts, profanity, privacy issues,” Henry Smith, of Spaceteam fame, tells me. “There are companies selling Backend-as-a-Service products just to solve all these problems.”

Overcooked, which Phil Duncan worked on.

These problems can represent a large cost for developers in terms of both time and money. Nidhogg, one of the most compelling and downright fun local-multiplayer games made in the past few years, was plagued with online issues after launch. It struggled to translate the frenetic feel that it had been creating excitement around at demo events into the online space. 

“If you’re designing an internet multiplayer game, you have a huge number of constraints, but the main one is this: for any given series of events in the game, those events might happen at a different time, or even in a different order, on different people’s computers,” Foddy explains. “If I was designing Towerfall for an internet connection, I’d need to either slow the arrows right down (so they can be course-corrected to match everyone’s computer) or make them infinitely fast (so that players don’t notice any discrepancies in flight). It would be a very different game. These are the reasons why certain genres, like FPS, RTS and MOBA games, are so much more popular than other genres of online games.”

Matt Makes Games' Towerfall.

So a wider range of design options, fewer technical constraints, and a little dose of nostalgia certainly go a way to explaining the steady flow of local multiplayer games over the past few years. But Henry Smith asserts that it’s more than that. “It's mostly unexplored territory," he says. "There's so much room for experimentation and new experiences and new audiences. I get quite a few Spaceteam reviews that say 'I'm not a gamer, but I love your game' or 'This is the only game on my phone!.' People are playing with their kids and grandparents and their teachers. Seems to me like there are some great opportunities here.”

The fear is that you’re putting restrictions on the ‘when’ of your game, rather than the ‘how’. Instead of relying on someone merely being interested in playing your game, you need them to be interested and have enough people to play it with and have enough controllers. The trade off, Foddy tells me, is that developing local multiplayer is just plain fun. 

Bari Bari Ball, which was part of Sportsfriends along with Super Pole Riders.

“Making a good local multiplayer game can be more enjoyable than making a good single player game," he says. "With local multiplayer games, as soon as you add the most basic functionality and placeholder art, you call over your friend to play it and you’re instantly having a good time. With single player games, there can sometimes be months or even years of work before you have your first enjoyable playtest.’

“The best local multiplayer experiences involve deep competitive gameplay, but they also bring out a spirit of social fun and camaraderie, and a party atmosphere that is completely absent in networked multiplayer games," he adds. "That’s the major draw for me.”

Both Duncan and Smith gave me variations of the same answer when I asked them why we were seeing more local multiplayer games, and that’s that there is just more people playing games these days. 

“My guess is that games are getting more diverse and inclusive in general, and they're losing some of their stigma, so more people want to join in,” Smith tells me. “They might be people you hang out with anyway, or your family, or roommates, so adding games to the mix is a pretty natural extension.”

Messhof's Nidhogg.

Duncan agrees: “The way we look at it was that most people live with someone; be that their family, their partner, housemates etc. and that most games don’t allow for these people to play together in the same space (either because they don’t cater for players of different ages/abilities or simply because they don’t allow same screen multiplayer). We wanted to create a game that people could play together with their friends or their family in the same space and which would allow people who maybe don’t play many games all that much to have fun together.”

As the interest in these novel experiences grows, so too does the ability to play them. While digital is a big factor in actually getting these games into the hands of those who want to play them, the proliferation of control methods is growing too. This is exemplified by Smith’s Spaceteam, which uses mobile devices as the controllers. It even works to the game’s benefit, as having your own screen and not seeing those of the people you’re playing with is an essential element of Spaceteam’s chaos and confusion. 

A group playing Henry Smith's Spaceteam.

“I try to design for the unique strengths of the platform and environment I'm using,” Smith explains. “For local multiplayer games, that means things like: being able to see and talk to other players directly, a shared screen or small play area, the possibility of spectators. For phone games like Spaceteam, there are additional aspects: touch input, movable devices, ability to play in different physical locations, seeing other players' screens.”

There is no single answer to why you might want to make a local multiplayer game, but from talking to Foddy, Smith and Duncan, what’s clear is that, primarily, the time from idea to playtesting is an extremely short one, relative to other types of games. That means that during the development, you’re going to be constantly iterating in a very hands-on way, able to get an idea of how your game feels and plays throughout the development, rather than after you’ve done a chunk of work. When you think of it in that way, it’s hard not to see it as an attractive prospect.