#Word & Character Counter

[canisalbus]

Machete and Vasco are so pomegranate-and-the-hand-that-slices coded. To me.

Pomegranates are seen as messy, bloody, inconvenient fruits. You slice or tear or bite and in return for your effort you come away underwhelmed, disgusted, and stained too deep to wash. The consumption of a pomegranate is a violent act of defilement, for both the fruit and the eater.

But that is because most do not understand how to open a pomegranate. They have little patience for the precise carving. They see no point in coreing the fruit gently, no reason to be reverent as they pull the quarters apart. When done correctly, opening a pomegranate leaves little mess. Your fingers will still stain, your knife will still slick, but there will be no pool of crimson drowning both you and the fruit.

The seeds are only sweet to those who understand the merit of a light hand and intricate slicing. Why put in so much effort for a food so bitter and clearly armored against consumption? Surely it must not yearn to be eaten.

(^insane about silly catholic dogs)

.

[hungergameshyperfixation]

For every Haymitch mlm ship I will now counter with a sapphic ship for his canon love interest. Already creating a sapphic au for her before SotR comes out

[shroommush]

Mr Cicle & Robert oneshot

Hey!! Its finally done!! And just in time before i leave on a cruise for a week! I started this like a month ago, so im very happy to see it finished.

As always, this little fic is based off of two characters, Robert and Mr Cicle from Paradoxcicle by @blipple-is-confused on ao3. None of this is canon to that fic and ive added a lot of my own headcanons around, especially when it comes to character backstories, so just keep that in mind.

This is set during the events of chapter 27 and onward, and the word count is 13,308 (i put way too much effort into this)

Warning for: descriptions of gore and lots of death (only mentioned in talking, none actually happens) and general angst

I hope you enjoy this mostly angsty, kinda wholesome attempt at making my two favourite characters bond.

~~~

Robert stared down the basement stairs silently.

After spending some time in the kitchen with Exterminator, Robert had gone to see where Quackity and some of the others had ran off to. Last anyone heard, they'd gone down to the basement.

And so, he found the basement door and stared down its long winding stairs wearily. He felt an unusually cold gust of air blow over him as he stood there, and he couldnt help but get the feeling there was something in that basement he wouldnt like.

It wasnt helping that his cameras exposure was so bad he could barely see half way down the stairs before it was just pitch black.

Well wasnt that great. He was gonna have to go down there to find quackity, wasnt he?

He leaned a little further through the doorway to get a better look- subconciously loosening his grip on his camera by just a bit.

It was then when Mr Cicle came turning the corner, peeking over Roberts shoulder to see what he was looking at.

Robert squinted at the darkness, his cameras lens zooming, still not having noticed the man behind him.

Mr Cicle paused, grinning at Robert as he stared down the stairs, unaware of his suroundings. He raised his hands, gently crept them onto Roberts shoulders and whispered- as hauntingly as possible- "Boo!"

"AGAHAAA!!!" Robert shrieked, his heart dropping as he felt the camera slip out of his grip and go tumbling down the stairs, into the darkness.

"GAH- NO no no no!!" He cried, watching the light at the top of the stairs get farther and farther away, flinching every time the camera hit something. "Not like this!" He gripped the sides of his head like it'd do anything to stabalize his vision.

Was he gonna die? Reset? All because he dropped his camera down a flight of stairs? It sure seemed like it. But he stood there in horror as he felt his stomach go queezy from the motion of the camera flailing, tumbling, and smashing into every stair imaginable.

Until finally, it came to the bottom of the stairs, hitting the basement concrete with a clack and falling onto its side pathetically.

Robert could see himself at the top of the stairs standing beside Mr Cicle, the two of them illuminated from behind. He stared wide eyed and devestated.

He could hear Mr Cicle make a whincing noise and felt him awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, making him flinch.

"Thats my fault, Robert.." he muttered. Robert could see him rub the back of his neck, grimacing down at the camera. "Sorry."

Robert stuttered, stumbling a bit to stand properly with his newly inverted vision. "I-its fine! Dont- dont worry about it." He spat out quickly. "Just- uugh shoot-..." he paused, pushing his lips together in thought. "Could you... help me down the stairs to get it..?" He asked Mr Cicle hesitantly.

Robert could see Mr Cicle turn to look at him, a curious but confused look on his face.

"..uh, sure?" He agreed.

Robert sighed, reaching out a hand for Mr Cicle to guide him. "Sorry its just, really dark. Cant see much." He lied.

Robert took a deep breath. This sucked. So much. This sucked so, so much. But.. he sighed. At least he could still sort of see himself. Losing his camera is never a good thing, but most of the time, as long as its still in close proximity, he's usually able to remotely guide himself until he finds it again.

With Mr Cicle here, though.. it couldnt hurt to get a little extra assistance. Yknow, his visions still completely out of wack, so on his own he could misplace his foot and go tumbling down the stairs. Which wouldnt be fun! But with Mr Cicle guiding him, that possibility's at least a little less likely to happen.

At least he hoped. Mr Cicle gladly took Roberts hand and began taking the first steps down the stairs. Robert grabbed at the walls for support, his legs shaking as he gently reached his foot out to find the next step down. He took a sharp breath each time he put his weight down, the image of him losing his balance and falling face first into the wood playing on repeat in his minds eye.

It wasnt going great so far. But after a moment of awkward silence, he began feeling Mr Cicles eyes on him.

Robert couldnt get a good look of Mr Cicles face through the camera. The two of them were too far away, so their faces were basically just jumbles of colorful pixels. And even worse, Mr Cicle had bright green glasses that completely stopped him from seeing the mans eyes.

But despite all that, he knew he was looking at him.

Maybe it was the fact that he couldnt go down the stairs on his own and was acting like a blind man- even though he technically was. He honestly doubted he was legally allowed to drive at this point.

Or maybe he had made it too obvious that his visions trapped on that camera screen. Most normal people wouldnt shut their eyes and grab for something to steady themsleves after dropping a camera.

Robert grumbled to himself. This was just going great.

Eventually, the two of them made it to the middle of the stairs. It was a lot darker here, and now it seemed like even Mr Cicle was struggling to see.

"Man.. is there a light down here?" The game show host muttered to himself. Even for Robert, it was starting to get kind of hard to see himself in the dark.

Robert hummed, hesitantly putting his foot down on the next step. "There has to be, right?" He added. "I mean.. Quackity and some others went down here, they wouldnt be walking around in pitch darkness, would they?" He suggested.

"Yeah..." Mr Cicle trailed off. "They wouldnt."

Robert flinched and stopped moving as his vision shifted.

Mr Cicle paused and looked at him, confused. "You okay?"

It was then that a faint blue light appeared at the bottom of the stairs, an icy chill running down the twos spines. Mr Cicle slowly turned his head to look at what it was, and was met with a ghostly figure, floating at the bottom of the stairs.

The ghost picked up Roberts camera, turning it around and inspecting it curiously. He had a christmas hat on, the pompom end flopping around his head with randomly flowy motions.

It hummed and grinned to itself, both of the men on the stairs stunned silent.

The ghost glanced up at them and Mr Cicle flinched, Robert grabbing the sides of the stairs harder to keep himself from getting too dizzy.

"Oh, well isnt this an interesting little piece of tech!" The ghost- which looked uncannily similiar to Charlie (it was probably just another one of his characters) spoke, flipping the camera to face himself and smiling again, showing his teeth more. "This belong to you?" He asked.

Robert grimaced at the ghostly sight, instinctually moving his head back to get out of the ghosts face. It did nothing, and he felt stupid.

"Uh- yeah! That belongs to Robert here!" Mr Cicle called out. "Would you be so kind as to return it to him?" He requested, gaining a mischevious look from the ghost.

"Hmmm..." the ghost hummed, performatively stroking his chin and looking at the camera contemplatively. "I could..." he muttered.

A grin crept onto his face.

"...or" he continued. "I could use it to record the next episode of the podcast." He spoke with a grin that showed he was all to proud of himself for coming up with that.

Mr Cicle paused, furrowing his brows and reaching out a hand as if to stop that idea in its tracks. "Uh- no, I dont think you can use that for your podcast, or, whatever it is.." he tried to explain, watching the ghost shoo his hand at him and roll his eyes.

"Why? you dont like sharing?" The ghost asked half heartily.

"W-well no, cause.." Mr Cicle paused. "Uhmm.. well it doesnt belong to you!" He reasoned.

"Okay." The ghost shrugged. "Can I ask the owner for permission to use it?" He asked monotonely.

"Uuh.." Mr Cycle paused, looking over at Robert with a hesitant glance. "I dont know, Robert. Can this man use your camera for a podcast??" He asked.

"No!" Robert exclaimed. "Absolutely not! I need that camera! A-and- it doesnt even work like that, you couldnt properly record anything on there!" He frantically tried reasoning.

"Well, then why do you use it?" The ghost asked with a raised eyebrow. "If its so broken, im sure you wouldnt mind me taking it off your hands." He spoke with a shrug.

Robert cursed under his breath. Why did he say that?? Of course he had to say it was broken, now the ghost will never give it back.

Even Mr Cicle seemed confused by this, looking at Robert and tilting his head. "Wait, yeah... if your cameras broken why are you always recording with it..?" He asked.

"T-that doesnt matter!" Robert tried to distract the two. "Just- give me my camera back! Please!" He pleaded.

"Mmm nope! This is mine now!" The ghost laughed. "If you want it back, you better come get it!" He taunted, turning and zipping out of view.

Robert groaned. "NO! Uughh.." He put a hand up to grab at his hair, shutting his eyes as the vision from his camera turned and moved out of synch with his body. He was starting to feel really motion sick, and it was only getting worse.

Mr Cicle reached out to try and help steady Robert, a look of concern on his face. "Woah- woah! Hey, Robert, you okay??" He asked.

"Im fine! Im fine.." he grumbled. "Can you please go get my camera!" He pleaded.

Mr Cicle paused, looking between Robert and the bottom of the stairs for a moment. Then, he turned to Robert and nodded. "Okay- i'll get it, dont worry." He spoke, turning and dashing down the stairs after the ghost.

"Hey! Come back!" Robert could hear him run off into the basement, his voice getting quieter as he got farther away.

Robert sighed, leaning against the wall as he tried to ignore what was going on in his vision. He took a deep breath, tuning into the sounds around him to try and stay grounded with his body.

He listened to the creaking of the stairs beneath him, the way they felt unstable under his feet. Running his hands along the wall behind him, he tried to visualize where he was standing right now.

He was stood in the middle of the stairs.. leaned against the left wall...

..he could hear some noise from down the stairs..?

He paused, turning to listen for what he had heard. Was that talking? It didnt sound like Mr Cicle. Who was it?

He stood completely still for a while just trying to figure out what it was that he heard. Until it got closer. And slowly he started to realise that people were coming up the stairs.

"Yeah, I dont know what was up with him, man.. I- oh. Robert?" One of the voices spoke, calling out to him.

Robert cleared his throat, leaned against the wall as casually as possible, and turned his head to smile in the direction he'd heard the voices. "Oh, hey guys!" His foot slipped slightly as he tried to lean against the wall, but he managed to catch himself and somewhat keep the pose.

He felt the stairs settle a bit, and he assumed this meant the people coming up them had stopped walking for a second.

"Hey! What are you doing down here?" The voice that had called to him came closer.

"Oh im just- ugh-" Robert stuttered as he felt the stairs shift again, shoving himself back against the wall as it felt like a few people walked past him up the stairs.

A person stumbled a bit and accidentally walked into him.

"Oh, sorry Robert from the backrooms!" The person called, continueing up the stairs again after patting him on the shoulder.

Robert shivered at the slimy texture, reaching up to wipe it off his jacket before pausing. "..from the.. what? Wait what are the backrooms..?" He muttered, following the movement of the stairs shifting with his head, waiting for an answer.

There was no answer, so he turned back to face the other voices, still confused. "Um.. okay, well.. you guys wouldnt have happened to see a.. ghost.. down there, would you?" He asked.

"Oh, boy.. yeah we did." A voice from farther down called out.

"Ough.. yeah.." the voice closest to Robert grumbled. "He forced us to sit in a podcast with him.. I do not reccomend it."

A voice slightly farther than the previous one made a noise of agreement. "Yup. He literally possessed me.. " they shivered. "Stay clear of him if you can." They advised before continueing up the stairs past Robert.

Robert hummed, taking the suggestion into consideration. "Okay... " he nodded. "Well.. he kind of stole my camera, though.. so that might be a bit hard.." he sighed.

"He did?" The voice closest to him asked, and he felt the stairs shift as they came closer to stand beside him. "You mean, like.. the camera you see out of..?" They whispered the last bit, sounding a bit more concerned now.

Robert hesitated. "Um. Yeah..? Wait how do you know that?" He asked anxiously, reaching a hand out to try and find who he was talking to, only to meet something sharp and electric that caused him to pull his hand away fearfully.

"Woah! Okay- dont touch that." The person quickly warned, grabbing Roberts hands gently to keep them from touching anything dangerous. "Its me! Backflippo! I know about your camera thing because i was there when we met you. Do you remember?" He explained hopefully.

Robert wiggled his fingers in backflippos hands, trying to get a feel for where they were but also because he felt awkward with him holding them like that. "Um, yeah, I remember." He nodded. "You have that.. green electric stuff on your shoulder. Im assuming thats what I touched a second ago?"

"Yep.." Backflippo sighed. "Sorry about that, its usually pretty under control.. " he added, sounding a bit defeated. "But- so.. you cant see me right now, right?" He asked.

Robert blinked, noting the fact that right now all he saw was the semi-transparent face of a ghost smiling at his camera. "No. I cant see you." He confirmed.

"Okay, what can you see?" Backflippo asked.

"Uh.." Robert hummed. "The ghost that stole my camera? Dark basement?" He shrugged.

"Okay, that sounds.. dissorienting." Backflippo muttered.

"Tell me about it..." Robert grumbled.

He flinched as he felt the stairs under him shift again, and what he assumed was someone else coming up beside them.

"Hey so, whats going on right now?" The voice asked, and Robert recoiled at the sound of slime moving and dripping right beside him.

Backflippo shifted, Robert assumed he turned to look at the other person. "Oh, I'm just gonna see if I can help Robert get his camera back." He explained.

"Oh- uh, actually." Robert interrupted. "I got Mr Cicle to go get it, you dont- you dont have to go get it for me." He assured Backflippo.

"That weird show host guy? You sent him?" The second voice asked.

"Yes?" Robert answered. "What makes you think he isnt capable?" He asked. "Also, who even are you? I thought the slime guy went upstairs already?"

Robert reached out hesitantly and tried to find whoever it was he was talking to. He grimaced as he felt his hand touch more slime, taking it back and wiping it off on his jacket with a disgusted look on his face.

The voice snickered. "Hey man, keep your hands to yourself! You dont know if I bite or not." They laughed to themselves, which only made Robert more repulsed.

"Ugh okay.." Backflippo spoke up. "Robert, this is Slimecicle. The other guy was just Slime. Theyre both.. made of the same stuff, but theyre very different." He explained.

"Uh, yeah? That other guy is like the exact opposite of me. He doesnt even hide in people's shoes for fun!" He huffed, garnering confused silence from both Robert and Backflippo.

Backflippo took a slow awkward breath and placed one of his hands on Roberts right shoulder. "..okay... well, about your camera." He began. "Are you sure I shouldnt go looking for it anyways? I mean, Mr Cicle doesnt know about your vision thing, does he?" He asked.

Robert sighed. "No, he doesnt.." he muttered, gaining a considerate hum from Backflippo. "..but, I was probably gonna let him know about that once he'd gotten back. I'd feel bad not telling him after this.." he admitted.

"Oh, and he saw me freak out when I dropped my camera, so if I dont explain what was going on, he's just gonna think I was acting crazy." He spoke with an awkward chuckle.

"Ah, fair.." Backflippo sighed. "Okay, well.. we've got a vampire to catch, so we should go." He spoke, gently patting Robert on his shoulder. "Will you be alright here on your own?"

Robert nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Im mostly just standing around waiting for Mr Cicle to come back, so as long as I stand right here, I'll be fine." He smiled, trying to reasure Backflippo.

Backflippo made a noise of hesitation, but sighed anyways. "Alright.. we'll be upstairs. If you need help anytime, just yell." He patted Roberts shoulder again and slowly began walking up the stairs.

Robert smiled and waved them goodbye, listening to the creaking of the stairs get higher and higher as he walked off. He heard Slimecicle snicker closer by and felt a tap on his nose that made him flinch.

"See you later, Rob." Simecicle chuckled. Robert listened as he turned and walked up the stairs behind Backflippo, and slowly dissapeared from his senses.

Robert sighed, silence filling his suroundings again. He didnt like being alone now. But, it would be fine. He reassured himself Mr Cicle would get his camera soon.

He took a deep breath. He was gonna be fine.

~

Well this was going great.

Mr Cicle stared into the pitch black room he'd followed the ghost to. He couldnt see a thing, and he was supposed to go in there to find Roberts camera?

Well great. Just great. He reasured himself it would be fine. Walking into a pitch black room with a ghost he couldnt see, yeah this was fine.

"Ookay..." he huffed, taking a deep breath, pumping out his chest, and taking a shaky step inside. He looked over his shoulder at the small bit of light from the stairs and watched as it was slowly obscured by the door frame.

He sighed, turning to face the darkness again. He jumped as the door slammed shut behind him.

Mr Cicle spun around to face the door, noting how all possible light coming into the room was now completely gone.

He stared wide eyed into the darkness. "U-uhm." He gulped. "Okay.. cool. Awsome. This is great." He spoke to himself. "I love.. the darkness."

Mr Cicle cleared his throat as he slowly started creeping deeper into the room.

"..hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to.. the void." He muttered. "I'll be your host, Mr scared." He recited to himself, like saying those familiar lines- all be it a little humorized- would help him be less frightened. He kept walking, speaking more to keep himself grounded.

"I know the maze has a lot of different traps, but 'The Hall of Eternal Darkness' is not one of them." He huffed to himself.

He heard a ghostly chuckle echoe behind him. Spinning around frantically, he saw nothing.

He took a shaky breath, slowly backing away from the noise and continueing slowly in the direction he'd been going.

"Okay.. you want to be scary? Be scary!" He huffed, continueing to step backwards. "I've seen things you cant imagine. Nothing can scare me anymore." He threatened, slowly feeling a shiver run down his spine as he stepped into something cold from behind.

Mr Cicle stopped, standing frozen still as an icy breath could be felt on the back of his neck. He gulped as the room slowly lit up a blue hue, the light coming from something right behind him.

He shut his eyes in resignation as he heard that same chuckle from behind him this time.

A blue semi-transparent face peeked over his shoulder. "Boo." It grinned.

Mr Cicle shivered. He turned and looked hesitantly into the ghosts eyes. "Oh, there you are.." he sighed shakily.

The ghost glared at him for a moment.

"Really?" He droned. "Really! Not even a jump? A flinch??" He gaped. "I do all that work to build up the suspense, and all you say is 'oh THERE you are' EUGHH." He gagged, turning and pouting to himself in the dark.

Mr Cicle hesitated, turning and raising an eyebrow at the ghost, confused. "I.. I mean, yeah?" He shrugged, flinching as the ghost turned to glare at him again. "All you said was 'boo.'" He blinked. "I feel like you were the one who ruined the suspense."

The ghost looked at Mr Cicle and rolled its eyes. "Okay.." it paused. "..fair."

"Well- look." Mr Cicle sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm his hastily beating heart. "Where's the camera?" He asked.

"Why do you care." The ghost droned.

"Because it belongs to my friend." He grumbled. "And you cant just take things because you want them, thats rude." He reasoned, taking a step closer to the spectre.

The ghost scoffed. "Oh you wanna know what's rude??" It asked rhetorically. "Blowing up your best friend because they decide to leave your podcast!!" He cried. "Like who does that??" There was a slight crack in his voice.

Mr Cicle blinked, going silent for a moment.

The ghost looked away indignently, and Mr Cicle got the feeling the ghost wasnt talking about him.

"Uh.. wow..." Mr Cicle mumbled. "..that is kinda messed up.." He hummed, scratching his chin.

"Right??" The ghost cried. "Augh- you get it! You know- my friends did that exact thing!" He gasped, pointing his finger at Mr Cicle as to punctuate his statement. "I was all like 'hey guys, ive got a lot on my plate right now, i think im gonna go!' And they were like 'thats fine Charlie! Take care of your own needs!' And then on my final episode of the podcast, they send a pipebomb in the mail and fucking kill me!!" The ghost exclaimed, Mr Cicle watching him cross his arms with a huff.

Mr Cicle watched the ghost for another moment, observing his behaviour curiously. He was beginning to get an idea of what this guys deal might be.. so, to test the waters, he decided to take a step closer.

"Well.." he began, taking a small breath. "..I cant say I've gone through that same thing, but, wow.. thats horrible.." He sighed, watching the ghost cautiously to make sure he hadnt accidentally set it off.

The ghost sighed. "..thank you!" He huffed.

Mr Cicle smiled and nodded before going silent. The ghost also remained quiet, avoiding eye contact.

The two of them said nothing.

The ghost made a noise of defeat and visibly slumped down a bit. "..the camera's on the shelf over there... just take it." He sighed, pointing off to his right.

Mr Cicle blinked. "Oh! Wait, really?" He asked, standing still and staring at the ghost.

"Ugh, yes." The ghost grumbled. "It wont really do me any good, and I was just taking it to get attention." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It gets kind of lonely in hell.. and I can only visit the living once a year, so I guess..." he paused. "..I dont know."

Mr Cicle frowned. "Hey.. I.." he paused, something about what the ghost had said made him go quiet. "I've gone through something similiar, so I get it." He muttered. "You just have to find people who will understand what you've been through." He offered with a sympathetic smile.

The ghost sighed. "Yeah.." he agreed. "I guess the only people who know what ive been through are Schlatt and Ted.. but theyre the ones who blew me up." He shrugged.

Mr Cicle paused. "Oh."

The ghost huffed. "Yep." He nodded. "Well I might just go see what theyre up to either way. And now that I'm free from the podcast, they dont get to send me back down to hell once theyre done talking to me.." he spoke with a mischevious grin.

"Ha ha.. okay, well you have fun with that.." he laughed hesitantly, watching the ghost rub its hands together and grin to itself before blinking out of existence, plunging the room into darkness once more.

"Oh-" Mr Cicle groaned. "Great." He sighed. This makes finding the camera harder, doesnt it.

"Alright, well..." he hummed to himself. "He said it was... this shelf?" He turned to his right, running his hands along the plank of wood he'd found that was probably the right shelf.

Going slowly- because he literally could not see a thing- he bumped into a few random items, paint cans, and work tools. So far nothing that felt like a camera.

He was starting to wonder if the camera was actually here, until he heard something. A faint mechanical wrring further down the shelf. Looking over in the direction he'd heard it, he noticed a small blinking light reminiscent of the one on Roberts camera.

He sighed in relief as he went to grab it, feeling his hands come into contact with plastic and metal. "There you are.." he huffed, pulling it off the shelf and slipping his hand into the strap on its side. He turned it around in his hands and confirmed to himself that this was in fact Roberts camera, and not some random item that just felt like a camera.

"Lets get you back to your owner." He huffed, slowly walking back in the direction he thought the door was.

Taking a few steps, he stopped as he realised he, in fact, did not know where the door was.

"Uuhmmm..." he stopped, looking around in the darkness for anything. Literally anything. But despite how much he squinted, he just couldnt pick anything up.

Mr Cicle grumbled to himself. "..shoot." he cursed, tapping his foot against the concrete floor impatiently. "This is going to be a problem.." he muttered.

Mr Cicle looked around for a bit, continueing to try and spot anything that would help him leave. But he just couldnt find anything in the dark. He was about to give up and try something else, when he noticed something.

That same wrrring that he'd heard before. Mechanical movement from the camera. He looked down at the illuminated screen on the camera and noticed it was zooming in and out. All on its own.

Mr Cicle watched it hesitantly for a moment as the thing focused and unfocused, repeating the same thing over and over. What was it doing?

"What the.." he gaped, holding the camera up a bit closer as it continued moving all on its own. Was this thing alive?? Is that why Roberts so protective of it? Because its not just a camera, but a living thing?

Mr Cicle scoffed at his own thoughts. "Either youre alive.. or just broken." He huffed, but he paused as he noticed something on the camera screen.

There. In the dark. There was something in the dark.

He looked up from the camera to see what it was, but-

There was nothing there.

"What?"

Mr Cicle looked back down at the camera. And there it was again. There was something on the camera that he couldnt see in person. What even was it?

He squinted at the image, trying to figure out what the vague shape was. The camera kept zooming in and out, which made it a little harder to focus on the shape, but slowly, he started to see more.

The faint outline of a plastic chair slowly began to appear on the camera screen. It was vague, and just barely visible, but it was there. The camera zoomed in and out a couple more times, at which the chair became clearer. And then it stopped. Hesitantly zooming back out and resting at a wide view.

All of a sudden, Mr Cicle could see so much better on the camera than he could in real life.

"Oh.. " Mr Cicle began to realise what the camera had been doing. "You were adjusting to the darkness.." he remarked, holding the camera up and peering around the room with it.

Now that the camera had better adjusted to how little light there was in the room, it was doing a lot better at seeing things than Mr Cicle was. He took this to his advantage, though. By looking through the camera screen, he spun around until he found the vague outline of a door. As soon as he found it, he dead-lined it straight in that direction, grabbed the door handle and shoved it open as hard as he could.

The door swung open faster than he'd expected, causing him to lose balance and stumble forward. "wAGH-"

Mr Cicle yelped, keeping hold of the door handle to try and catch himself. He managed to stay standing, but almost lost his grip on Roberts camera.

"WOAH! O-okay!!" He gasped, tightening his grip on the camera again and properly standing up. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders and brushing his suit vest off. He then adjusted his glasses and acted like it never happened.

"Okay! Wow!" He huffed, taking a deep breath and looking around. "That was quite an.. eventful adventure..." he sighed, spotting the staircase out of the basement and feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"Lets get out of here.." he smiled, making his way towards the stairs.

~

Robert watched the stairs get closer, watched as Mr Cicle turned the corner, and finally spotted himself standing awkwardly in the middle of the stairway.

"Oh." He gulped. "Mr Cicle!" He put on a smile. Robert tried his best to puppet his body into the right position to make it look like he was facing Mr Cicle and waving at him. "You got my camera!" He called, still struggling to stand upright.

"Hey, Robert.." Mr Cicle sighed. "Yeah, I got your camera." he spoke with a smile, huffing as he started walking up the stairs. "It doesnt look too badly damaged, and it still works.. I think.." he muttered, gently holding the camera towards Robert as he finally made it back to him.

Robert reached out tentatively, feeling his whole body relax as he grabbed hold of his camera. "Oh, thank you.." he exhaled, pulling the camera up to his chest and holding it like a lost child. "Ugh.. fuck..." He let out a very relieved groan.

Mr Cicle looked at him with a hesitant smile. He really was starting to wonder what the deal with that camera was..

Robert smiled and let out a very loud exhale. "Wow! Alright, yeah.. uh.." he hesitated, seeming to think for a moment, flicking his camera in Mr Cicles direction. "I have uh.. some stuff to explain..." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"..yeah." Mr Cicle hummed, furrowing his eyebrows, a bit confused. "I.. well I dont want to sound rude, but you have been acting strange since dropping your camera." He confessed, looking back down the stairs. "..and... that thing was moving on its own down there... " he added a bit hesitantly.

Robert grimaced. Of course..

"I dont know if its.. alive? Or.. just, really good at adjusting to different light levels- but something's up with it." Mr Cicle concluded, looking at Robert with a concerned gaze.

Robert knew it was coming. After all of this, he couldnt have possibly expected Mr Cicle to not be curious. Which was fair, he supposed.. he just hated having to figure out a way to explain all of this to him.

"Yeah.. thats the thing." Robert sighed, looking back up to the top of the stairs. "Its a little.. complicated." He paused. "..Confusing..." he grumbled.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Alright? Everything about tonight has been confusing. I'll be able to handle whatever it is." He spoke with a smile.

Robert grumbled an agreement. Everything about tonight had been confusing. He supposed his own thing might not be as confusing as some other things he'd seen.

Robert looked away, sighing.

"Okay, well.. I cant tell you here." He muttered. "I dont know if you heard, but that vampire guy is on the loose, and I dont want him hearing about this." Robert grumbled, peering up at the top of the stairs hesitantly.

"Oh!" Mr Cicle blinked. "You mean the vampire that puppeted people into attacking everyone??" He asked, a new concern appearing on his face. "That vampire's on the loose??"

Robert sighed. "Yes."

"Huh. Well then." Mr Cicle gulped. "I uh.. I guess I could find somewhere he wouldnt hear..? Or.. probably wouldnt." He huffed, glancing up the stairs as well and slowly stepping up towards the basement door.

Robert raised an eyebrow and followed behind him slowly. "Oh? And where would that be?" He asked.

Mr Cicle smiled. "Somewhere quiet." He answered simply, only confusing Robert even more.

Robert furrowed his eyebrows, and slowed a bit, trying to think of anywhere quiet in the house he could be talking about.

He scoffed to himself. Considering how many people were in the house right now, he didnt think anywhere in the place was quiet.

Well, he couldnt be so sure. Clearly Mr Cicle had somewhere in mind, so he might as well follow and see where this went.

So, following the game show host out of the basement, he kept a keen eye out- or a keen lens out- for anyone that looked vageuly vampirish. Mr Cicle didnt look quite as worried, but he seemed at least a little cautious as well.

Eventually, they reached the back door of the house where Mr Cicle stopped.

Robert paused as Mr Cicle did, looking between him and the outside.

"Oh." He blinked. "Of course. The quiet place is outside." He huffed.

"Yep." Mr Cicle smiled. "Hope you dont mind the cold.. but it should be away from most prying eyes." He offered, gently opening the door and gesturing courtly for Robert to exit.

Robert chuckled at him, bowing his head as he walked through the door and onto the backyard porch. Mr Cicle hadnt been lying about the cold. Robert felt his whole body shiver once he was outside.

Mr Cicle huffed as he stepped through the door behind Robert. He kept hold of the door handle and smoothly shut it right behind him. He then turned to watch Robert look around for a moment, who was looking a little hesitant as he sat down on the porch stairs.

Mr Cicle sighed, going to sit down beside Robert. Robert seemed to be collecting his words for a moment, so Mr Cicle took the time to look up and watch the stars while waiting for him to talk.

Robert on the other hand was fiddling with the strap on his camera as he thought of what to say.

He couldnt just say, straight up, 'hey my camera is my eyes.'.. could he..?

It would be dumb.. but...

Robert groaned. He might as well just go for it. Say the first thing that comes to mind and go from there.

Robert turned to look at Mr Cicle, finding him dead silent facing the sky.

He hesitantly cleared his throat.

Mr Cicle snapped out of his star gazing. "Oh." He saw Robert looking at him a bit cautiously, so he turned to face him better.

"..go ahead." He encouraged with a soft gaze.

Robert let out a tense breath, glancing away for a moment and rolling his eyes.

Get it over with.

"Uhm.. " he gulped, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the back door, just to make sure that vampire wasnt actively listening in. Or, anyone else, for that matter..

He sighed, turned, and started to speak.

"My vision is trapped on this camera." He admitted, not looking at Mr Cicle, who remained silent.

"I havent told anyone yet, because- well its a pretty dumb weakness.." he muttered. "Especially with all this evil bug stuff going on, I'd hate to know what they might do if they found out." He spoke, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"There are a few people who know about it already.. but they only know because they were there when I first showed up." He sighed. "I think it was.. Xiv.. and gillion, and.. Backflippo and Charlie... and they only found out because Xiv thought I was acting weird and decided to find out why." He spoke with a slight chuckle.

He hesitantly glanced over at Mr Cicle, noticing how his eyebrows were furrowed and his lip pressed into a thin line. The show host almost looked at Roberts eyes for a moment, before pausing, and slowly looking down to gaze into the camera lens.

Robert felt his whole body tense as for the first time that night- or for the first time in who knows how long.. someone actually looked him in the eyes.

He immediately pulled the camera away to face straight ahead, a strange feeling in his chest flaring up like electricity.

"Uhm-" he stuttered. "Yeah- so.. when I dropped my camera down the stairs, I honestly thought.." he paused, wondering what else he should tell Mr Cicle about this dumb curse of his. "..I thought... " he trailed off.

"..Robert." Mr Cicle spoke up, making him jump.

Robert turned to look back at Mr Cicle, finding that he was still looking directly down the lens of his camera.

"I.. I did hear you correct, Right? Your vision.. is trapped on that camera. Meaning, all you see comes out of that little lens right there." He spoke, pointing at the cameras lens.

Robert gulped, gritting his teeth and looking away awkwardly.

"Y-yeah.. thats pretty much the situation..." he muttered.

"I cant.. imagine.. what that must be like..." Mr Cicle spoke slowly. "..to have your.. entire perception of reality come out of, this tiny little box." He gently reached out a hand towards the camera, almost subconsiously. Like he was so curious he didnt realise he was moving.

Robert jerked the camera away from Mr Cicles hand, seeing him snap out of his curiosity and pull his hand back.

"Sorry." Mr Cicle blinked. "Its just.. interesting." He hummed.

Robert laughed at that, rolling his eyes at the idea. "Yeah.. interesting is one way of describing it." He spoke grimmly.

Mr Cicle raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at Robert. "Well.. how would you describe it?" He asked, watching Robert pause and contemplate the question for a moment.

"I.." Robert hesitated. "I dont know.."

"Its like.. that feeling when you wake up and you've been lying on your arm all night, and its circulation is so cut off you cant even feel it. And youre just.. holding it with your other hand feeling it move around out of sync with you." He muttered, looking ahead deep in thought. "But even that isnt a good comparison, cause I can still feel my body, im just.. disconnected from it." He held his camera out in front of him to almost show the distance he felt between him and his body. "Its weird... it feels bad." He concluded.

Robert turned to look at Mr Cicle again, seeing his eyes flick about under his green lenses as he tried to rationalize Roberts description in his head. He seemed to understand to some extent, nodding faintly as he stared ahead.

"Thats.. a horrible way to be stuck living.." he mumbled, running a hand over his face and resting it over his mouth, a look of almost disbelief and sympathy in his expression.

"Heh, yeah.. tell me about it.." Robert grumbled. "Oh but imagine trying to escape giant snake lady monsters and skin men in some archictural nightmare of a maze while also having to deal with this camera thing." He offered, turning to grin at Mr Cicle and gesture his camera around like a dumb toy.

Mr Cicle gasped. "Oh- goodness, thats horrid." He spat, looking at Robert with a grimace.

Robert smiled. "Ha! Yeah!" He actually laughed. "I am honestly so glad Charlie found me, because if I had spent another day or two in that hell I might have actually lost it." He spoke with a sigh, not noticing how Mr Cicle went quiet.

Robert let out another sigh and stared out at the backyard. "I do not want to go back there once this is all over." He huffed, leaning back on one of his palms a bit.

Mr Cicle chuckled faintly. "..that makes two of us..." he muttered.

Robert hummed, turning his camera to look at Mr Cicle. The man was leaned forward, elbows rested on his thighs and his gaze focused on the distance.

"I do not. Ever. Want to go back to my place." Mr Cicle spoke, such certianty in his tone that it made Robert sit up a bit.

"Oh...?" Robert trailed off. "..what was it like?" He asked hesitantly. He grimaced as he noticed the instant look of discomfort that came over Mr Cicles face at the question.

The game show host was silent for a moment. But after a small while, he looked over at Robert with a soft smile and a faint laugh. "Are we really doing a joint therapy session right now?" He asked somewhat humurously. "I thought we came out here for you to talk, I dont want to intrude on your time to speak."

Robert scoffed, tossing a hand forward to brush the idea away. "Who cares. Weve all got issues. Weve all come from the head of the same guy. Were all here together." He offered, giving Mr Cicle a considerate smile. "I think the most we can all do for each other is offer some solidarity in how fucked up our lives can be." He spoke, looking Mr Cicle dead in the eyes as best he could.

Mr Cicle looked up into Roberts eyes, smiling for a moment, before hesitating as he noticed just how empty they actually were.

He could tell Robert was moving them to look at him intentionally. But they felt as if they were prepetually staring at something far off behind him. Staring off into the distance with no set target.

Mr Cicle huffed, glancing down just below Roberts chest and locking eyes with his camera. "You make a fair point." He muttered, turning to look ahead in silence again.

"But where do I even begin..." he huffed, wringing his palms together between his knees as he furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation.

"Well, where did it all start?" Robert offered.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Ah.. well its been so long I can barely remember.."

"I.. used to have a good life. I had friends- who I've since forgotten the names of. I had a home- which I've since forgotten as well... I guess the only thing I was missing was a job." Mr Cicle huffed

"Somewhere. Somehow. I found a job at 'The Maze' as the host of the show. Out of everyone who auditioned they chose me, and I had been so excited to put my acting skills to use, and make a name for myself on the big screen..." He spoke slowly, Robert noticing a faint, reminiscent smile on his face. "I guess I'd been so happy I hadnt questioned a lot of the red flags about that place.." Mr Cicle trailed off.

"When they were making my persona for the show.. they asked me what my name was and found it simple enough to let me use my last name for the show.. 'Cicle'.. Charlie Cicle. Thats my actual name." He looked gently over at Robert. "It fit well enough, and I was all set. They gave me my suit, showed me to my studio, and shut the door for my first day on the job.."

"And it was one of the worst days of my life..." he spoke weakly.

"That show wasnt a show at all. The contestants woke up without any knowledge of how they ended up there, and once they actually entered the maze, they started dropping like flys." He hissed.

Robert noticed Mr Cicles hands twisting around each other tightly, his knuckles almost white.

"Traps at every corner. Pitfalls at every slope. The first group didnt even make it past the second section before they were all dead.. " Mr Cicle grit his teeth.

"Jesus..." Robert gasped.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Yeah..." he hummed. "I was horrified, to say the least..."

"But.. when I had had enough... and I'd decided to leave.. never come back.." Mr Cicle trailed off. "..I couldnt."

Robert stared at the empty look in Mr Cicles eyes.

"The thing is, they hadnt even locked the door to my recording studio. They didnt need to.. when I left that room and started walking down the hallway to the exit... it just didnt end..."

"I remember passing the door to the studio three times before I really started to panic.. running, and running, and running.. just the same thirty feet of hallway repeated over and over and over..."

"After that... I.. sort of gave up." He admitted, looking away meakly. "Started counting the days. One day, after the next, after the next.. after the next... and each new day there was a new group of contestants. Each new day, a new group of bodies litering the maze.. " he muttered. "I lost count of how long I'd been there once it had been longer than a year..."

Mr Cicle went silent for a moment. Robert did the same, and stared off into the backyard with a horrified look on his face.

After a tense moment of quiet.. Mr Cicle took a deep breath and spoke up again. "After a while... and I mean a while... I got good at hiding the pain." He spoke slowly. "Cameras could come on live at any moment, and being seen sobbing your eyes out on live television was never the best experience... so, I had to switch it up. Put on a facade. I got good at acting like everything was fine."

He looked down a bit awkwardly for a moment. "Thats why.. if youve seen me around much today, you probably will have noticed how little I react to most things." He spoke with a slight chuckle. "I think I spent so long acting like im fine, Ive stopped being able to actually express my emotions properly." He muttered, not seeming to give the idea much thought.

Robert stared open mouthed at Mr Cicle, who wasnt reacting much.

Yep, okay he really wasnt lying. The guy was practically stone faced talking about this.

Mr Cicle looked over at Robert, who seemed absolutely gobsmacked about what he'd just heard. Mr Cicle coughed, sitting up straight and rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. "Ah.. sorry..." he apologized. "Thats a lot to just.. let out in one go..." he admitted.

"Oh- uh" Robert sat up. "No! No its fine! I asked, okay? You just dilevered a bit more than i was expecting..." he muttered, looking away a bit dazed.

He had known Mr Cicle spent a long time in whatever place hed come from, but geez... that was a lot worse than hed thought it would be...

Mr Cicle was looking off to his side, avoiding eye contact with Robert as he tapped a finger impatiently against his knee. Robert couldnt see his face, but he clearly noticed when he took a deep breath, and gently looked up at the stars above them.

The show hosts anxious fidgeting slowed to a stop once he was watching the sky.

Robert smiled at that. "Well, hey.. at least youre out now, right?" He offered, Mr Cicle pausing and turning to look at him again with a silent gaze. Robert huffed. "And the stars are still here. So, however long you were in there for, it wasnt long enough for them to burn out just yet." He smiled at Mr Cicle.

For a moment, this seemed to comfort the man. Mr Cicle nodded, a faint smile forming on his face as he thought about it.

But then he paused.

Robert realised what he'd done.

"I never told you I was afraid the stars would die out.." Mr Cicle muttered, looking up at Robert with a hesitant expression on his face. Though, for a moment he chuckled. "I mean.. thats one lucky read on me, huh.."

Robert stared at Mr Cicle wide eyed.

"Oh. Yeah. Right, haha! Uhm..- one lucky read!" He started to sweat.

Mr Cicle squinted his eyes at Robert.

Robert stared back really hoping Mr Cicle wouldnt think any harder about this.

The show host tilted his head at Robert and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You know, just because your vision is trapped on that camera, doesnt mean your face is too." He droned.

"What." Robert blinked, turning his camera around to face himself.

He groaned as he realised he'd been staring wide eyed at Mr Cicle the whole time. "Okay. Uh, fair. I dont have the best poker face." He grumbled, turning his camera around again to face Mr Cicle. "I guess theres still some stuff I havent told you..."

Mr Cicles gaze softened a bit and he tilted his head at Robert. "I see." He hummed. "Maybe you should have a turn telling your story." He offered.

Robert sighed, letting his shoulders fall a bit. "Maybe.." he huffed. "My story's.. surpisingly similiar to yours, I guess."

Robert raised his camera, staring off at the city in the distance as he took a slow breath. "Things started out pretty unassuming.." he began. "My sister had gone missing a week before, and I was determined to find her. So, the first place I decided to check was her school, which had been closed down since."

"I brought this camera with me- which, at the time wasnt what I was seeing out of. But I drove to her school, broke in, and went to find the breaker so I could turn all the lights on. Once I found it..." Robert trailed off.

Mr Cicle gave him a sympathetic look, listening quietly as Robert took a moment to find his words.

"Well.." Robert continued. "I turned on the breaker, and walked back up to the rest of the school. And thats when I realised something was wrong."

"The school wasnt the same as when I'd entered. The layout changed all on its own and the halls and the classrooms just kept going for as long as I could walk. It wouldnt have been that scary if I was all on my own in that maze... but I wasnt.." Robert spoke almost under his breath.

"Monsters, and ghosts, and little girl dolls, all trapped in that hell the same as me. I remember.. the first of the entities I met was a small doll, dressed like a little girl. She'd move when you werent watching her. I tried and failed to trap her in a broom closet.. and when she got me..." Robert trailed off.

"Well.." he sighed. "I think thats when my vision got trapped in this thing." Robert spoke, tapping his camera and turning it to look at Mr Cicle.

"She ripped my eyes out."

Robert saw Mr Cicles eyes widen an inch.

"She tore them right out of their sockets, letting me bleed out from the gaping holes in my face." He spoke, a slight crack in his voice. "But the thing is..." he looked away. "I didnt die."

"Once that doll had actually killed me, I woke up back where I started.. completely unscathed." Robert shrugged.

"I dont know how, or why.. but from that point on, my mortality was directly linked to this cameras survival." He spoke, turning it to face Mr Cicle again. "Every time a new monster killed me, I'd wake up again somewhere new and start the whole escape process over again."

"Oh yeah!" Robert sat up a bit, making Mr Cicle flinch at the sudden movement. "I forgot to say, there were different levels." He hummed. "First it was the school. That was the beginning of it. Then, after finding an elevator, I managed to take it down to a new level, which was a library."

"That levels monster wasnt really that special- I mean, I actually managed to escape it without dying even once!" Robert laughed, still a little proud of how easily hed escaped that one. "It was this humanoid thing with an ear for a head, and it wore a jumper. If I made any noise, it would immediately come running after me and tear up whatever spot it heard me at last." He explained.

Mr Cicle nodded at that, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about it.

"Yeah.. so pretty easy." Robert shrugged. "The next level was a lot more.. unnerving.." he trailed off.

"I managed to escape that one unscathed too, but it was still one of the scarier ones.. its monster was this.. tall, skinny man walking upside down on its hands.. and it made this- awful gutteral groaning noise all the time." He recalled, shivering at the memory.

"The next few levels were.. fine.." he sighed, leaning forward a bit and running a hand down the back of his neck. "There was this ghost in one of them. It would only show up in the dark and it... I honestly dont know what it did when it caught me.. it was so fast it was kinda just, searing pain and then I woke up back at the start again." Robert shrugged. "But none of that compares to the next level..."

Mr Cicle raised an eyebrow and listened to Robert silently. He had this look in his eye, that Robert could tell he was listening and feeling for his story. He just didnt show it much.

Robert huffed. "Yeah.. uhm.." Robert gulped. "Do you know.. what it feels like.. to be fully conscious while your entire body is actively being digested inside of a giant snake?" He asked Mr Cicle, turning to look him in the eyes with a pained expression.

The show host blinked, his lips parting for a moment like he wanted to say something. But he just stared wide eyed at Robert without a word.

"No.. no I dont." He finally muttered.

Robert chuckled to himself. "Good. You dont want to!" He laughed, turning to stare into the distance again. "This snake, lady, thing. It would slither around the next level- these pool rooms. And if it saw me moving, it would lock onto me with its big fucking eyes and come slithering over faster than I could run. It made these horrible whispering noises- but it wasnt even actual words, just.. a poor imitation of human speech.." he spoke with a sigh.

"Not only did the pools have that snake monster, but it also had the skin man- again! He was just there." Robert shrugged, looking back over at Mr Cicle again.

He paused for a moment, thinking back on everything that happened and whincing at the memories.

"..I dont want to be.. shoved under clorinated water again, and.. ripped open within seconds... " he muttered, his shoulders rising a bit as he remembered the bloody water he laid in, slowly drowning on his own gore. "..Or eaten alive and digested for hours..." he grit his teeth, shuddering at the feeling of crushing bones and melting skin. "..or... have my eyes torn out by little doll hands.." he muttered, shutting his eyes at the idea of it happening again. What felt like uncontrollable tears streaming down his face, actually just being his own blood pouring from his open skull.

"I cant do that again. I'd lose it." Robert spat. "And- im so glad to be out here with everyone- even if its, flipped my perception of reality upside down. Knowing all of that was just some scary story in the head of some guy.." he sighed. "I dont really care. Because i'd rather be just some guys character in the real world, then go back to that hell."

Robert flinched as he felt Mr Cicle put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He turned his camera to look over at him, finding the show host to be looking at him with such sympathy.. it felt uncharacteristic.

"You're free now." Mr Cicle spoke, his eyes looking at him so certianly, it made Robert sit up a bit. "You dont have to worry about any of that anymore." He spoke as reassuringly as possible, a look of genuine pain and empathy in his gaze.

Robert looked at Mr Cicle for a moment. He forced a bit of a smile at those words, but turned to look away again in discomfort.

"But I do.." he muttered, ignoring the look of confusion Mr Cicle gave him. "Even though im out of that maze, im still trapped to this camera. Mr Cicle.." he trailed off, looking back over at the show host again, a tired look in his eyes.

"..I've seen you die." He spoke slowly. "I've seen everyone in this place die, in one way or another... because I'm still cursed." Robert took a long shaky breath. "When those bugs first showed up, you were outside stargazing.. and the sound of your dying screams was the first warning of their arrival."

"I watched Troy murder Peter in cold blood before coming after me.. and then I died, and woke up again minutes before the attack."

Mr Cicle was silent, his eyebrows furrowing more as he looked away slightly.

"I died.. so many times.. just to get everyone in that house out safely... and no one even knows it happened." Robert spoke, incredulous. "They all just think it was luck that we got out of there alive, but I saw every other outcome where we didnt. And all the pain. And the agony. And all of that horror.. it just didnt happen... but I saw it.. and it hurt." He choked out, going to quickly wipe away tears that began to form.

"I cant be free as long as im stuck with this stupid camera." Robert huffed, taking a few deep breaths to try and re-steady himself. "And even if we manage to escape these bugs without dying anymore, the plan is still to send everyone back to their own worlds- and I cant do that! I dont wanna go back!" He cried, finally feeling his emotions well up more and more, failing to keep them down.

"I cant.. I cant do that..." he sniffled. "Not again. Never again. I'll find a way to run off here before I let them send me back."

Robert sat there for a while, sniffling and stuttering, trying to wipe small tears away and act like he wasnt crying. But he wasnt doing a very good job.

Mr Cicle merely watched, his eyes half lidded and his gaze unsettled. He looked like he wanted to say something, but watching Robert struggle to keep himself together, he thought it best to let him sort it out himself. Anyways, he might not be the best at comforting him.

Robert looked away as Mr Cicle did, the two of them now just staring out into the quiet backyard without a word.

"..sorry..." Robert sniffled a small apology as he finally dried all his tears.

"Its okay.." Mr Cicle gently reassured him.

Robert sighed, a loud, exhausted sigh as he properly sat up. Mr Cicle did the same when he noticed Robert, readjusting his bowtie a bit as he sat up better.

"So, uhm.." Robert gulped, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. "I guess i went a little off topic there.. but.. the reason i knew about your fear of the stars burning out, is because you told me about it once when i was trying to stop you from going outside."

Mr Cicles gaze softened a bit at that, glancing over at Robert.

"You were going out to look at the stars, and i asked why you were so adamant about it.. and you basically said that, youd spent so long trapped in the maze, you thought that by-"

"..I thought that by the time I was free, all the stars would have burnt out..." Mr Cicle interrupted, finishing Roberts sentence as he trailed off.

Robert turned to look at him, stunned quiet for a moment. "Yeah." he nodded slowly. "Yeah thats.. basically what you told me.."

Mr Cicle chuckled quietly to himself, a small, genuine smile on his face. "Interesting to think i mentioned that to you before, and yet here, talking to you now, i dont remember it ever happening."

"What, like- us talking to each other like this was always going to happen?" Robert laughed.

Mr Cicle shrugged. "Who knows." He hummed. "But i guess theres something about each of us that we can both find comfort in."

"Hm.." Robert nodded faintly. "Like what?"

Mr Cicle raised an eyebrow, turning to glance at Robert silently for a moment.

"Well.." he started. "I guess were both parralels of each other."

"You were trapped in a maze, cursed to relive the same nightmare over and over. And i was trapped as the conductor of a maze, isolated and cursed to narrate the sufferings of others." Mr Cicle explained, looking gently over at Robert.

"You experienced so much death. And i experienced none of it. And we both had too much of what one of us wanted.. it became a burden."

"You- im assuming- wanted isolation from the pain and the horrors."

"And i wanted... death. Something you had too much of."

"Woah- okay-" Robert stuttered, raising his hands a bit as he looked at Mr Cicle concerned.

"Too much??" Mr Cicle whinced.

"Too much." Robert gasped, looking at Mr Cicle with a concerned gaze. "When did you become such a morbid philosopher?"

Mr Cicle laughed. "Ah.. well when you spend so much time with only yourself to talk to, you kind of start to over-analyze your very existence a little too much." He spoke with a shrug. "So I guess I can get a bit preechy sometimes."

"Yeah..." Robert muttered. "That would make sense.."

Mr Cicle sighed and looked away a bit awkwardly at that.

"Woah! No hey-" Robert blurted quickly. "I think its cool! Honestly- id be stoked if i was able to talk so dramatically all the time!"

Mr Cicle glanced over at him with a faint smile, slightly confused. Though, he seemed amused, at least. "Really.." he scoffed.

"Yeah! Totally! OH OH-" Robert gasped, excitedly going to grab Mr Cicles shoulders and turning him to face him better. "I need you to say.... 'luke... I am your father'." He spoke with a deep grovelly voice, and the biggest grin Mr Cicle had ever seen on his face.

The show host stared slightly dumbfounded at Robert for a good moment, wondering how exactly he was supposed to go about that.

Robert noticed his slight hesitance and gasped. "Do you not have star wars where youre from??" He asked, astounded. "Oh my god- wait you have to- NO- no its.. forget it, just say the line..." he sighed, shaking his head and sitting back a bit.

Mr Cicle blinked at that, opening his mouth but not saying anything for a moment.

After a second.. he cleared his throat, shut his eyes for added drama, sat up a bit, and slowly began to speak...

"Luke.." Mr Cicle hissed, furrowing his eyebrows and opening his eyes to stare into Roberts camera dramatically.

"...I am your father."

Robert kicked his feet up and grinned even wider than before. "AAAAAAHHH YES!!!" He squealed, shaking his fists in excitment. "Thats awsome!!!" He exclaimed with a laugh.

Mr Cicle smiled, laughing a bit at Roberts reaction.

"OH!" Robert gasped. "Can you say 'come with me if you want to live'." He spoke with a strange accent, gaining another confused laugh from Mr Cicle.

"Okay.." the show host chuckled.

"..come with me if you want to live." He spoke sinisterly.

Robert was practically jumping out of his seat at this. "Agh!! Thats so cool!!" He grinned. "Okay! Last one! 'Fly, you fools!' "

"Fly! You fools!" Mr Cicle grinned, adding some dramatic hand gestures and leaning forward a bit.

"DUDE!!" Robert was exstatic. "AGH you could be an actor!!"

"I am an actor!" Mr Cicle laughed.

Robert slapped a hand against his forehead with a groan. "Right! You are.." he laughed.

"Okay, uuuhh..." Robert hummed, bringing a hand up to scratch his chin. "You could be a... really... ominous.. weather reporter." He joked half heartedly.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Really."

"Look, I dont know.." Robert sighed, grinning a bit awkwardly. "First thing that came to mind." He shrugged.

Mr Cicle nodded at that, humming thoughtfully. "Well.. I could be a really ominous weather reporter." He spoke with a grin, reaching into his vest and pulling out a microphone from seemingly no where.

Robert blinked. "Wait- where did you get that-"

"Ahem!" Mr Cicle cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your local news station where today, I will be giving you all a brief summary of todays weather forecast.." he immediately got into character, speaking into his mircophone which wasnt connected to anything.

Mr Cicle gestured a few things to Robert with his hands, but Robert just looked at him a little confused.

Mr Cicle groaned. "You're the camera man!" He huffed, sitting back up again and readjusting his suit like he was actually in front of an audience.

"Oh!" Robert gasped, rolling his shoulders and positioning his camera up to frame Mr Cicle nicely for whatever bit they were doing.

Mr Cicle cleared his throat. "So! Skys are clear, with no clouds in sight. All of... whatever city this is.. will be staying up late to see just how bright tonights stars can get..." he trailed off, pausing for a moment.

Mr Cicle looked over at Robert, whispering. "Robert, what would an ominous weather reporter say?" He asked. "How do I make the weather seem ominous??"

Robert shrugged. "I dont know. I thought you were an actor! Youre supposed to be good at improve! Just figure something out!" He whispered back.

Mr Cicle huffed, sitting back up properly and readjusting his bowtie. "Well, ladies and gentlemen.. dont star gaze for too long, tonight, because these stars are a little dangerous." He spoke a bit unsure, but smiling none the less.

"Theyre so beautiful.. you might just.. lose yourself... watching them...." Mr Cicle slowly trailed off, opening his eyes wide and dramatically looking up at the sky with a look of mock wonder on his face.

Robert snorted, grinning at the show hosts suprisingly unsettling acting.

He chuckled to himself, slowly panning his camera up to look at the sky. He kept smiling for a while, panning around to see if he could find any stars, but eventually, he paused.

Roberts smile faded a bit as he realised.. he couldnt actually see any stars.

Mr Cicle must have noticed his dissapointed expression, because after a little while, he paused, coming out of his acting bit and looking over at Robert silently. He hesitantly put his microphone away.

Robert huffed, zooming in on the sky, and zooming back out again to see if he could adjust to the skys light levels, but it didnt seem to do much. He kept trying, but it wasnt getting much better.

Mr Cicle tilted his head. "Whats wrong?" He asked, gaining a bit of a sigh from Robert.

"I think my cameras exposure is so bad it cant pick up any of the stars light." He whined, dropping his camera to look back out at the backyard again with a huff. "Figures.."

Mr Cicle furrowed his eyebrows, looking back up at the sky, and all the twinkling stars that filled it.

He frowned.

"I could try and up the exposure?" Mr Cicle offered, turning to look over at Robert again.

Robert looked over at Mr Cicle curiously.

"I know how to work most cameras.. since, it was kind of a requirement for my job at the maze." Mr Cicle shrugged. "So I should be able to help you see more, hopefully.." he smiled, gently reaching out a hand towards Robert, offering to take his camera.

Robert moved his camera back slightly, a little unsure at the idea of handing his camera over. He looked at Mr Cicle with a hesitant gaze, stopping as he noticed the expression on his face.

Mr Cicle looked at Robert, trying his best to look as friendly as possible. "..only if youre okay with it." He spoke, genuinely.

Robert paused for a moment. Hesitant.

But after a tense minute.. he gently handed his camera over to Mr Cicle.

The game show host took a careful breath, carrying the camera over to hold it in front of him, peering down at the illuminated screen.

Despite having held it a little while ago, now he knew just how important this camera was, and felt much more nervous holding it himself. He could see Roberts livelyness in it now, noticing the way it focused on different things and zoomed slightly at each movement. It wasnt just a camera, but his friend.

And he was holding it in both of his hands. So very gently.

Hesitantly reaching up to touch the screen, he found the buttons that let him access the settings.

Robert would have liked to see what Mr Cicle was doing, but the best he got was watching as his vision flashed between different kinds of weird.

Super bright, to super dark, then somewhere in between, and now the colors were all off. It was all starting to feel a little strange.

But after a moment, Mr Cicle slowly raised his camera up to face the sky, peering into the screen as he kept adjusting the settings. Robert held his breath and tapped his finger against the porch beneath him anxiously, just hoping hed find something that worked soon.

Mr Cicle bit his lip, furrowing his brow as he kept looking for a setting he could adjust to help make the stars show up better.

After a quiet minute.. Robert gasped.

Mr Cicle perked up, glancing over at Robert to see his eyes wide and mouth open. His shoulders dropped slightly as his body stared out into the backyard. But Mr Cicle looked back to the camera, held up at the sky, and noticed just how many stars he could see on its screen.

"Oh wow.." Mr Cicle muttered, looking between the sky and Roberts camera, and noticing that somehow, hed managed to get it to pick up more stars than even he could see in person.

Mr Cicle smiled, leaning back on one of his hands to look up at the stars. He kept holding the camera up facing the sky, just so Robert would be able to keep watching them too.

And boy, he sure was.

Robert stared ahead in wonder. Watching the stars in all their pixelated glory, he even started to notice a few colours faintly behind them. It was like he was seeing a ghost he couldnt see before. A very sparkly, colorful ghost.

He didnt even realise he was starting to smile.

They both sat there in silence, neither one of them feeling the need to say anything. Just listening to the wind, and focusing on the lights. It was peaceful. So, very peaceful.

A nice change of pace compared to how the rest of the night had been going.

For just that moment, they didnt have to worry about a single thing.

But then, a rain drop hit Roberts camera lens.

He sat up, eyes widening at the sudden distraction.

Not only had a raindrop appeared on his screen, but slowly, the stars began to dissapear as dark clouds came rolling in over the LA sky.

Another raindrop hit Roberts lens.

And then it started to faintly fall one by one on the porch around them.

Roberts breath hitched, and he sat up as more and more rain began to fall around them.

Mr Cycle looked around, confused. "Oh.. I guess.. my weather forecast wasnt the most accurate." He mumbled, slowly lowering Roberts camera and resting it on his lap.

More and more rain began to fall, water no longer only hitting the cameras lens, but pattering onto its casing as well.

Robert felt his heart skip a beat. "No!" He panicked. "NO! My camera breaks in water!" He cried.

Robert fumbled to find where his camera was, feeling his hands grab onto Mr Cicles shoulder, leaning closer to try and reach towards his lap. His anxiety only grew as the rain grew stronger. And stronger.

It started to pour unusually quickly.

"Mr Cicle!" He couldnt lose this. He begged, please he couldnt lose this.

Not after this. He couldnt die and go back right after opening up to someone like that. He couldnt lose his new friend. Not now.

Mr Cicle noticed Roberts frantic behaviour, awkwardly standing up a bit and trying to shield his face from the now pouring rain. "What? Are you okay?" He asked.

"No!" Robert cried. "If my camera gets wet i'll die! Where is it??"

"Oh!" Mr Cicles eyes went wide.

Robert didnt even have time to get it himself as Mr Cicle jumped into action.

The speed at which he managed to unbutton his vest was unprecedented. Instantly using the right half to wrap up Roberts camera and tuck it close to his chest, cradling it with his right arm as he used his other to guide Robert beside him.

Roberts breathing was fast and his hands were fumbling to figure out where he was. All he could see was the inside of Mr Cicles vest and the rest of his forest green dress shirt. And all he could feel was pouring rain and an arm around his shoulders, slowly walking them both somewhere he couldnt tell.

"Can- can I-" Robert stuttered, wanting to ask for his camera. He was interrupted as he ran into a small ledge by his feet- "aAH!" He gasped, feeling Mr Cicles arm pull him back to keep him from falling forward.

"Woah! Okay-" Mr Cicle cursed. "Just step over. Thats the bottom of the door frame, were heading inside." He gently explained, slightly drowned out by the rain shower around them.

Robert paused, taking a breath to steady himself and raising his foot slightly higher. Stepping down, he felt it hit carpeted floor.

The inside door mat.

Robert let out a sigh as he walked forward, stepping out of Mr Cicles grasp. He grabbed a hold of the open door to keep himself from falling over, but managed to get inside and shake himself off well enough on his own.

Mr Cicle seemed a little suprised by that, but shrugged it off. He used both hands to hold Roberts camera under his vest now, stepping inside and shaking himself off as the door slowly closed.

The show host sighed, raising a soaking arm and looking at himself with a defeated frown. "This'll take hours to dry..." he whined, adjusting his bow which sat half undone, soaked as well.

Robert put his hands against the sides of his head, taking a deep breath and leaning against the wall to try and calm down.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

"You alright?" Mr Cicle called to Robert, watching him perk up as he took his camera out from under his vest. He wiped it off from the remaining rain, and handed it to him, watching Robert relax again now that it was back in his own hands.

Robert stood up a bit, nodding his head. "Yeah. Im alright." He huffed. "Thanks for that."

Mr Cicle smiled. "Its no problem." He nodded.

It was just then that Gillion Tidestrider came walking around the corner.

"Woah!" Gillion paused. "Did the undersea start pouring out there?" He asked with a bit of a smile.

Robert and Mr Cicle both stared back at him, dripping wet in the middle of the hallway.

"The what?" Robert blinked.

"Uh.. i guess you could call it that?" Mr Cicle glanced between gillion and the back door. "Yeah?" He shrugged.

"Huh. You guys look like youre well aquanted with it, then." He shrugged, turned, and walked off to find the living room.

Robert and Mr Cicle stared down the hallway at where the fish man had been last, both too confused to say anything.

Mr Cicle opened his mouth, about to say something.. but he paused. Shook his head. And took off his glasses to wipe the rain off them.

Robert turned to watch him grab his wet vest, use it to wipe off his glasses, put them back on, and then grumble as they remained exactly as wet as theyd been before.

Robert scoffed. "Try your shirt. It looked pretty dry under there." He suggested.

Mr Cicle looked at Robert as he spoke. He paused. "Okay.." and then tried again, as suggested.

He took his glasses, opened up his vest and wiped them on his green dress shirt by his ribs. And sure enough, they came back clear and he smiled as he put them on.

"Would you look at that." He grinned, turning to look at Robert again with a smile.

Robert smiled back, a little amused at how he looked. Mr Cicles previously well kept hair was now dripping over his face, and his whole outfit was practically a puddle.

Mr Cicle, despite this, smiled anyways, and put a gentle hand on Roberts right shoulder. "Robert." He spoke softly. "Im sorry I havent been looking you in the eyes before." He apologised.

Robert hesitated at that, though he rolled his eyes half heartedly after a second. "Dont worry.." he reasured him. "Really, I wouldnt have expected you to know."

"Now, I need to go find somewhere to dry off..." Robert groaned, turning to start walking down the hallway, shifting uncomfortably in his heavy wet jacket.

Mr Cicle sighed, going to follow close behind him. "Me too..." he grumbled. "Getting the wrinkles out of my suit wont be fun either..." he complained, pulling his shirt collar away from his neck uncomfortably as the two continued off down the hall.

Robert hummed. "I wonder if they have a fireplace here, I could curl up by it like a fancy little dog."

"Im not sure we want to have a fancy little dog in the same house as slarf." Mr Cicle commented. "Wolves arent known for being friendly to prey sized hounds."

Robert was quiet for a moment.

After a second, he sighed. "Well im not a shapeshifter-"

"I was joking!" Mr Cicle defended. "Play of words! 'Oh no! Wolves eat small dogs- you compared yourself to a small dog-' is that not- a joke?"

"Not a good one."

"..fair enough."

[frameconfessions]

I hope the protoframes remain relevant even after this story arc for the Drifter concludes, but I also recognize how complicated things would get with how many characters they could keep trying to make stay relevant, leading to a Konoha 13 Naruto type situation where we have too many relevant characters from Umbra & Ordis all the way to Kaya Velasco.

.

[grahamcarmen]

i kinda wished gray was angry at carmen instead of relieved just for yknow angst and stuff like at the jail when he was like "how did u know i was here" and shes like "all in good time gray" i wish he was like "its graham. whos gray?" cuz lol yea idk if this makes sense i suck at typing

Alright i might go off on a tangent so like feel free to clarify if its too far off base from intent

But i am personally actually ok with the angst on Gray’s side being saved for later, there are so many angsty moments already stuffed in there

->the fight being draining and difficult and ultimately a failure to keep them off him

->the parallel to gray disappearing from sight because of the cleaners

-> gray still getting pain pang and helping carmen where he can

->carmen desperately trying as many keys as she can when the robot finally comes

->carmen screaming for gray after he screamed for her

Like…phew thats alot happening and i think that it would get lost in the fray

Side note:

-> him taking the info that ACME finds carmen shady and she decided to work with him and actually wondering who gray is especially because she came to find him…hmm fun

-> gray watching all those civilian gets mistaken as spy movies and going ahhhh.ha.

BUT on the sentiment of gray being angry and not just relieved.

He does start to say it’s graham before he’s interrupted. And he has always been exasperatedly trying to put it aside to try and just be with her in the moment

Like…askjdnfdaksjf look at this face

Relief is not the only emotion here

And it does come to its breakpoint

because well  [the point is she’s lying to him.- bugs life voice]

And what a breakpoint it is because Carmen is not allowed to pretend that the person in front of her doesn’t have a thing to say about who she was protecting* 

So its not angst denied but angst delayed if that makes sense and the himalaya caper puts it into more focus than the jail could

Like  “alas why did he not simply look into her yearny eyes and make a decent life choice for once” aside [which is so fun to say]...

but the thing is …it's something that i do think gray gets to be mad about at that moment [not that he isn’t making a terrible life choice on the side but-]

…she lied to him by omission and flat out. And only came to rescue a fake version of him as far as he’s concerned. A fake version it seems she was pretending even further with by calling him gray and not graham.

….

GAH THIS IS WHY I DON’T GET WHY YOU GUYS THINK BLANKET LETTING CARMEN HAVE ZERO REVISIONS ON HOW SHE SEES HIM IS OK

And no just enemy who !had his chance at the cotillion you! doesn’t work as the final verdict either >:0

 [you're making the carmen sad and that has literally never worked plus carmen is just wrong for this on some level]

They’re so messy dude…like there’s so much to unravel and him being firm but straightforward about it is at least picks at this issue good enough for the moment…oof…was a lot like …oogh

But necessary. Gray is a person who actually has a reaction to this ya know [or character i mean- same thing].

His anger tends to be overshadowed by a lot else is all…[T.T multiple mistakes in a row babeyyyyyyyyyy] + his own prioritizing when it comes to his own emotions

And to make matters worse….OMFG THEY STILL LIKE EACH OTHER THEY’RE STILL SO MUCH MORE SAD INSTEAD OF MAD ABOUT IT ALL AND WANT TO BE TOGETHER AND ALL THE LIES BEING UNVEILED JUST MAKES THE TRUTH MUCH MORE NECESSARY AND IMPORTANT OMGGGGGGG GRRAH WHY ARE YOU 2 BEING SQUISHY CRIMES HAVE BEEN COMMITED!

They just need to tone down the nonsense…be even more honest with each other …they be wild out here…ya’ll can do it with time i believe in ye, even if that will mean more tough conversations with each other, i think they like each other enough

But yes. Him mad at it DOES make good angst. ..and tbh not even for just that moment…because …

[paleode-ology]

as always I’m thinking about the Stede/Izzy/Ed dynamic and trying to figure out how they can still win. I started going through this in the notes of a post and realized I just wanted to talk about it lmao so here we are

I’m Okay. So here’s the thing. I am so pro steddyhands. Like frankly it’s a dynamic that I love and want to see more of and like. As more mentally healthy individuals I think they would be soooo unstoppable like actually peak romance and chaos. BUT they are. Not. Mentally healthy individuals like they are all so incredibly fucked up. And that is maybe a post for another time. Anyway so I have two ideas about the ideal plotlines for these three, which I call the realistic plotline, and the one that won’t happen but would be sooooooo gay plotline.

This post ended up being kind of long bc I talk a lot lmao so here’s a cut.

Even though I want in my heart a steddyhands endgame, Jenkins has said that the third season would (if greenlit) be the last, and that’s just not enough time to work out a well-written and satisfying romantic end for the three of them. Also, I just honestly don’t think steddyhands was ever in the cards for this show; it would just be way too messy idk. Realistically, I think we can definitely get an Izzy and Ed reconciliation, and we’re DEFINITELY getting stizzy bonding this season, so at the very least they’ll all be friendly going into the third. But this season is obviously about Stede and Ed learning to trust each other again and get to know each other better before they go back into romance. They have shit to work out and they’re clearly gonna be starting to do that in the next few eps.

I thinkkk the plan is for them to heal this season and actually figure out their feelings for each other bc let’s be so real, they were so fucking repressed in season one and had just BARELY realized they were in love before things went to shit. The third season will probably just be them becoming proper husbands and co-captaining and like fighting the British yippee. Cannot wait.

As for Izzy. Oh my god Izzy. Okay. So he’s sticking around for now. He’s been the only one looking out for his crew this whole time (and honestly I think he and Stede might bond over that. Stede kind of gives very few fucks about his crew but he values their lives and doesn’t WANT to leave them behind. Tbh breaking them out while also dealing with Ed’s death was just so insane of him and like. He’s gonna be such a good captain.) and anyway, we know he’s going to be teaching Stede pirate things. Not to mention that everyone loves Con so Izzy’s undoubtedly going to be hanging with the crew and keeping them organized while Stede and Ed fuck off on their bonding excursions.

My running theory for Izzy in season three is that he’s going to be captaining the Adventure. (For those who don’t know, the real life Blackbeard had the real Israel Hands captain that ship for a hot minute.) Izzy’s wanted to captain a ship for a long time, and I mean, he’s the Revenge’s captain in all but name at this point. So once he’s sure Ed and Stede and the crew aren’t going to set the Revenge on fire and accidentally kill themselves, he’ll go off to captain the Adventure and have his own healing journey during the third season. Hell get to figure out what it’s like to be out from under the shadow of Blackbeard, and like honestly it’ll be way less stressful and he’ll have a good time. Season three can cut between his adventures and the Revenges adventures, and the overarching plot will have all of them reunite in the latter third of the season (deus ex machina Izzy PLEASE). They’ll work together, have a final reconciliation where they all end on good terms, and either Izzy will go his own way as his own pirate captain, or he’ll decide that he’s grown and healed but he still likes working with New Ed and he stays on with the Revenge or they form a fleet with the Revenge and the Adventure and maybe another ship that shows up at some point in the third (I just feel like a fleet of two ships sounds stupid sorry). Maybe they’ll give Izzy a boyfriend in season three also. Like maybe it’s just me but I feel like getting laid would fix him.

I’m really, really excited for Stede and Izzy to get closer this season. Their little enemies to romantic rivals to still romantic rivals but they have bigger things to worry about to besties is just so real. And I think that them being closer is going to just bring this new balance and dynamic that we haven’t seen before.

So that’s the realistic plotline. Everyone ends up happy, we have pirate husbands, and no one dies except for the British. Onto my insane pipedream plotline also known as the outline for the fic I will probably never write.

Basically, it starts off quite similar to the above prediction for the rest of the show. The only caveat is, the show extends past three seasons. I don’t know that Jenkins will keep writing after the third, even if the response is huge, just because he seems really dedicated to telling the story properly, and unless he decides now that he wants to keep it going, a fourth or more season would mess up the pacing of the show, especially since the season three finale is supposed to the The Show Finale. But for the sake of this fic outline, let’s pretend we get as many seasons as we want.

I still think Izzy should captain the Adventure. Like I really firmly believe that his and Ed’s relationship cannot fully heal unless they part ways for a bit, and as an Izzy diehard I just want him to have fun without worrying about Ed 24/7. I want it to be light, though. Like mostly just him working out his shit with Ed and what he wants from his life going forward.

Meanwhile, Ed and Stede get to have their honeymoon phase on the Revenge. They’ll have a mostly functioning crew for once, and I also like the idea of them escaping the law or fucking up nobles. Like just really have a fuck the rich moment. Once again, it’s light. BUT I also want them to acknowledge that they miss Izzy. Like Ed will tell stories about the years he worked with Hornigold and how he fell in love with pirating and probably compare this new beginning with him and Stede to when he set out on his own captaining journey and as he reminisces and starts to get over the trauma he never really dealt with, he’ll realize just how much Izzy was always there for him, and he’ll regret how he treated him when Izzy was the person closest to him for so long. Also, generally seems to be leaning away from being a full pirate rn. Like he’s definitely starting to realize that there’s more that he wants out of life, which he’s going to have to balance with pirating being the more that STEDE wanted out of his life.

Meanwhile, Stede will have his pirating tricks that Izzy taught him, and while Ed has his own style and certainly lots of pirating experience, he’s already taught Stede a lot, and, quite frankly, he’s a terrible teacher. Like. We saw how the sword fighting lessons went. Izzy is going to be more effective, and I think he and Stede are going to have a lot of fun once Izzy realizes that Stede actually respects his advice and genuinely wants to improve. Like that’s going to be really good for them. But then Izzy leaves, and Stede’s left with not very many people to go to with advice or ideas. People that will critique him (mostly) fairly. Once again, Ed loves Stede, but he mostly just wants Stede to be happy, and he’s good just being on the sidelines watching his husband slay the pirate life. So Stede misses Izzy too.

So does the crew. Ed tends to view himself as quite separate from the crew, and while that’s subject to change, I don’t think he actually knows how to be a good captain? Like. Izzy has been doing his job for him for forever. Meanwhile, Stede cares about the crew’s well-being, but he really isn’t that close with any of them. He very much sees himself as their leader, and lets them do whatever the fuck they want as long as the ship isn’t sinking and they all get to do some good old fashioned raiding.

Izzy, on the other hand, spent a long time in the space between captain and crew. While he sees himself as part of the crew, he has a huge responsibility that inherently comes with being first mate and is further burdened by the weight of dealing with post-breakup Ed. He earns the respect of the crew when they see how much he takes on for them. “He’s our dick.” While Ed’s prestige intimidates crews into following him, and Stede initially bought a crew, Izzy earned the respect of his crew, and he proved to them that he cared about their lives and their well-being. So yeah, going back to the Ed/Stede co-captaining chaos means that the crew is going to miss Izzy.

Note here that I think the Adventure would already have a crew. I don’t know under what circumstance they’d need a new captain, but let’s imagine that that’s what’s happening here. I want Izzy to be fully out on his own, without any of the crew he’d had before. Our season one crew stays with the husbands. In my mind, Izzy meets a guy from the Adventure, they become besties, and then that guy invites Izzy to come be their captain bc the old one like died or whatever. New guy is Izzy’s first mate, and helps him work through some of the Issues.

And Izzy LOVES being captain. He likes the responsibility, he likes looking out for his crew, and he enjoys looting and fucking over other pirates and colonizers and it’s just a whole vibe for him. He’ll earn the respect of this crew as well. He prioritizes their lives over his own, and they genuinely enjoy working for him.

Here’s the thing, though. Being captain is lonely. He has his own quarters, which are pretty fucking sparse. He has a new crew, and while making his own name is good for his ego, no one on his new ship knows him the way his old crewmates did. And let’s be honest, while his crew enjoys working for him, he runs a tight ship. He’s abrasive. He’s brutally honest. He can be cruel. He’s fucking insane with a sword. Let’s not forget that this is a man who, unlike Ed and Stede (for now) very willingly murders. Izzy can be SCARY when he’s not running himself ragged trying to please and take care of and save the man he loved without getting the rest of his crew killed.

So. He’s not really bonding with the crew. They aren’t friends. They’re just a team of pirates who trust their very scary leader. He’s close with his first mate, at least, since that’s the buddy who brought him onto the Adventure. For the most part, the isolation isn’t bad. He’s allowed to reflect and grow and become more confident in himself. He realizes he’s his own person and not just Blackbeard’s guard dog.

Still, he finds that there are things he misses about the Revenge, so when Ed and Stede find themselves in a tight spot (with the British? I do think it would be so fucking funny if we had ANOTHER Badminton), Izzy doesn’t hesitate to come to their rescue. He saves the day, gets to talk a bit with the husbands, and they decide that while being separate was good, maybe traveling together is something they can do again. The Adventure joins the Revenge, and we end season three.

THEN in season four we get to see the three of them together again. Their time apart has helped ease tensions, but there’s still work to be done before we enter poly territory. So Ed and Stede are fully in a relationship, with Izzy on the outskirts. Izzy’s gotten over his blind devotion to Ed and has grown closer to Stede, and it’s comfortable, but sometimes still a bit weird.

Izzy’s (and by extension, Ed’s) past is coming back to haunt him in this season. People he thought he’d left behind show up, enemies he’s made are coming back for revenge, and he can’t deal with it all on his own. Ed and Stede have to help him through it, and they have his back the way he had theirs at the end of season three. Ed begins to realize that he didn’t know Izzy as well as he thought he had back when they were shipmates, and so they get to talk and properly discuss what went wrong between them (namely Ed’s dismissive attitude towards Izzy and Izzy’s inability to accept Ed as anything other than the Dread Pirate Blackbeard).

Stede and Izzy get to be Violent together while Ed stays behind and organizes the auxiliary wardrobe, and now that Stede has improved on his swordsmanship even more, they get to have a lot of fun. Bonding via murder, my beloved. They learn how to work as a team, which would just be SUCH a dynamic like gentlemen pirate plus rabid chihuahua? Nothing better.

Eventually, I think the Adventure would make its departure. Izzy’s first mate would become captain, and they’d part amicably. Izzy stays with the Revenge. With Ed and Stede. The three of them take meals together. Izzy is a co-captain in all but name, preferring to remain first mate as long as he gets a say in what they do and where they go. He loves working more with the crew again, and they’re more responsive to him than they’ve ever been.

And slowly but surely, they all realize their complicated feelings for one another. Secretly and without telling each other, obviously. Ed and Stede are both confused with themselves because they’re HAPPY they have and love each other, but they also both value their time with Izzy so, so much, and of course they can’t say anything to the other because then Ed will think Stede doesn’t want him anymore, or vice versa, and that’s not what’s happening.

Izzy is just so fucking confused bc he can tell that how he felt about Blackbeard hasn’t gone away, exactly, but something’s different. And when he and Stede are fighting together or preparing the next ambush or discussing plans for their next stop, it’s so fun. Fighting with Stede is like breathing in a way that fighting with Ed never was. So. What the fuck? But it doesn’t matter how he feels anyway because Ed and Stede are together and why would either of them ever want to replace the other with Israel (Basilica) Hands?

So while they’re each having an existential fucking crisis, the entire crew knows what’s going on, or they at least have realized that there’s something weird happening with Izzy and the captains, but it’s not bad the way it had been before. So there’s betting pools going on who’s fucking who and whether or not Ed and Stede will leave the other for Izzy or if they’ll all just end up being together.

And just as things are reaching a breaking point between the three of them (Izzy retreats from them both, snapping at them and refusing to open up the way he had been previously and yelling at the crew more than usual, Ed stops talking to anyone at all, preferring instead to do target practice with Jim, and Stede is throwing himself into one raid or project after another, staying up through the night until he can’t stay awake any longer), our main conflict comes into play. We’ve been dealing with someone from Izzy’s past all season, and things finally come to a head. Tables are turned, and now Ed and Stede have to work together to save Izzy from whatever the fuck is happening. During this time, they realize that Izzy is equally important to the both of them and vital for the co-captain dynamic and they’re like. Fuck. Now we REALLY have to save Izzy.

And god, Izzy’s been saving their asses this entire time, hasn’t he? He’s always been there, and now they need to be there for him.

So uhhhh they rescue him and everyone kisses yippee that’s the ens of season four. Season five gets to be the True Poly Season, where they get to fuck around and be the baddest bitches of all time and it’s beautiful.

And that’s my rough outline for. What the show could be? A fic I want to write but probably won’t? Uhhhh yeah 👍

[sonknuxadow]

see i can accept the idea of shadow struggling with the concept of friendship and being hesitant to get super close with people or label them as his friends and not being super openly affectionate with the friends he does have. but the idea that he doesnt have friends at all is just so strange. yes he does ? theres plenty of people who like shadow and care about shadow and he seems to feel the same about them at least a little bit. why did sega give shadow friends and then pretend that they didnt actually write all that stuff

[joelletwo]

my main reference line for clan head seiji math is this [i can hear its changed in the anime but functionally seems the same as the manga, which is "次代の的腸一門 頭主は / おそらく静司君だ"], keyword "probably," so shinobu is still in the running for a 16 yr old seiji

[derailed] the line is kind of hilariously unexpectedly literal actually. the next matoba clan head will probably be seiji-kun. 頭/atama/body part head (not said that way) in there and everything. sending me down a brief gintama rabbithole.

[midnight-the-pony]

Welcome!

Welcome to my equivalent of an internet sketchbook :)

My name is Eddie but I also go by Midnight in online spaces, this blog is dedicated to being a place for me to drop any and all art I consider post-worthy, usually art of my original characters!

Everyone [who I own] that I draw can be found on my Toyhouse alongside notes regarding my worldbuilding universe, Illex. Although I do post fanart from time to time, please do not follow me just for that alone!

I don't care about reblogs!!! You're fine just liking my art <3

Look at tags for tagging explanation

[quarklynx]

Read a book today, would not recommend. I have fallen to the "just one more chapter" curse. It is now 5 am.

[someguywriting]

People are sleeping on the amazingness of WORD COUNTER DOT NET as a writing tool Don't have the patience to log into google? Use word counter! Don't wanna load up word? Use word counter! Want an accurate count of your words, characters and reading level? Use word counter!

[hayatheauthor]

100 Dialogue Tags You Can Use Instead of “Said”

For the writers struggling to rid themselves of the classic ‘said’. Some are repeated in different categories since they fit multiple ones (but those are counted once so it adds up to 100 new words). 

1. Neutral Tags 

Straightforward and unobtrusive dialogue tags: 

Added, Replied, Stated, Remarked, Responded, Observed, Acknowledged, Commented, Noted, Voiced, Expressed, Shared, Answered, Mentioned, Declared.

2. Questioning Tags 

Curious, interrogative dialogue tags:

Asked, Queried, Wondered, Probed, Inquired, Requested, Pondered, Demanded, Challenged, Interjected, Investigated, Countered, Snapped, Pleaded, Insisted.

3. Emotive Tags 

Emotional dialogue tags:

Exclaimed, Shouted, Sobbed, Whispered, Cried, Hissed, Gasped, Laughed, Screamed, Stammered, Wailed, Murmured, Snarled, Choked, Barked.

4. Descriptive Tags 

Insightful, tonal dialogue tags: 

Muttered, Mumbled, Yelled, Uttered, Roared, Bellowed, Drawled, Spoke, Shrieked, Boomed, Snapped, Groaned, Rasped, Purred, Croaked.

5. Action-Oriented Tags 

Movement-based dialogue tags: 

Announced, Admitted, Interrupted, Joked, Suggested, Offered, Explained, Repeated, Advised, Warned, Agreed, Confirmed, Ordered, Reassured, Stated.

6. Conflict Tags 

Argumentative, defiant dialogue tags:

Argued, Snapped, Retorted, Rebuked, Disputed, Objected, Contested, Barked, Protested, Countered, Growled, Scoffed, Sneered, Challenged, Huffed.

7. Agreement Tags 

Understanding, compliant dialogue tags: 

Agreed, Assented, Nodded, Confirmed, Replied, Conceded, Acknowledged, Accepted, Affirmed, Yielded, Supported, Echoed, Consented, Promised, Concurred.

8. Disagreement Tags 

Resistant, defiant dialogue tags: 

Denied, Disagreed, Refused, Argued, Contradicted, Insisted, Protested, Objected, Rejected, Declined, Countered, Challenged, Snubbed, Dismissed, Rebuked.

9. Confused Tags 

Hesitant, uncertain dialogue tags:

Stammered, Hesitated, Fumbled, Babbled, Mumbled, Faltered, Stumbled, Wondered, Pondered, Stuttered, Blurted, Doubted, Confessed, Vacillated.

10. Surprise Tags

Shock-inducing dialogue tags:

Gasped, Stunned, Exclaimed, Blurted, Wondered, Staggered, Marvelled, Breathed, Recoiled, Jumped, Yelped, Shrieked, Stammered.

Note: everyone is entitled to their own opinion. No I am NOT telling people to abandon said and use these. Yes I understand that said is often good enough, but sometimes you WANT to draw attention to how the character is speaking. If you think adding an action/movement to your dialogue is 'good enough' hate to break it to you but that ruins immersion much more than a casual 'mumbled'. And for the last time: this is just a resource list, CALM DOWN. Hope that covers all the annoyingly redundant replies :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[dailyusetools]

Word Counter Tools: Essential Features and Benefits

Word Counter

Word counter tools are widely used by writers, students, editors, and professionals to analyze text and ensure it meets specific requirements. These tools provide valuable insights into word count, character count, reading time, and other metrics. In this article, we’ll explore how word counters work, their key features, and why they are essential for content creation.

Daily Use Tools

[prabirdutta]

[marquezism]

hello rosquez meeting on vactation they both went on with their partners...

please elaborate 👀

(the sexual TENSION. catching each others eye casually start talking to each other IMMEDIATELY hitting it off so well... FLIRTING... vales swimshorts lowwww on his hipbones marc in the tiniest swimshorts EVER, bending over right in front of vale... wet fabric clinging to his legs big dick sooo obvious... marc 'slipping' on the tiles vale catching him gripping down HARD on his waist... his earring glinting in the sun salt in his ugly sideburns so HOT... sleazy eyes on marc repeatedly licking his lips... all while their partners are literally RIGHT THERE... do we get cheating? do we get foursome? do we get rosquez cheating and then finding out their partners were cheating on them with each other too anyway? and THEN hot foursome by the private pool?)

about this post

hah... idk marc just looked so... rich and gay in those pics... i think what it felt like to me was like... both of them ARE rich. immensely so. the kinda rich where you aren't followed by paparazzi bc no one would know your name, exactly. both of them engaged? maybe. marc is certainly engaged, the way you are when you're 29 and heir to some fortune. and his fiancee is 28 and also heiress. and they just look perfect in the christmas card pictures. sometimes they see someone across the bar and then one of them leaves with them. sometimes both do. you know. it works great. and vale is putting off getting engaged as you do when you're 43 and loaded like all hell and have been dating someone about fifteen years your junior for three years and don't actually plan on getting married but do plan on having kids within the next two-three years. out of wedlock. cause you don't plan on getting married, anyway. and she knows really, like she's aware. indeed she's fine with it which HE doesn't know cause he's putting off talking about it. as you do. he's less bald also. cause no professional athlete-ism. indeed his curls make you see god.

and marc's like. on vacayyyyyy~~~ with miss fiancee. has been for a couple days by the time vale arrives with miss non-fiancee. incidentally booked rich people hotel rooms next to each other at the same luxury rich people resort. suites, with balconies the size of some people's apartments, with the grandest view of the ocean. five in a row down that side of the building with a private pool area one floor up on the rooftop. for the rich people who booked those suites only. there's a bar with a waiter and shit. a sauna and a gym and a lounge where you can order food day and night. and that’s just the rooftop. wait till you see the grounds!!! literally idk what im talking about, my broke ass has never seen anything like that in my life.

point is. balconies right next to each other. and marc's like. up at seven bc his sleeping rhythm is still fucked out here. doing yoga out on his little yoga mat. comes out in his tiny shorts and his loose tank top. rolls his mat out like every morning. starts stretching. the room on the right is occupied by friends of theirs who joined them on vacayyyyyy~~~ and don't get up before nine like, ever. and the room to their left was unoccupied. until today, apparently. or last night, more like. bc marc's in some pose when he looks over and sees a guy leaning over his own balcony railing. cigarette hanging from his fingers. no shirt on, chest thin and pale. face of an aging model to him, head of dirty blonde curls, unshaven. literally unbearably hot. staring over at marc with something to his gaze, glitter to it, amusement, almost. very clearly has no objections to the show. and before marc can say anything, vale gives a little ironic wave and goes “early bird.” and marc retorts “you would know.” and finishes the exercise and when he glances over again, the guy is still looking at him. grin to him, but sweet, almost. like he’s watching his favourite tv program. marc is pretty sure he’s on his second cigarette by now. he doesn't know if vale recognised him yet, so he asks “do we know each other?”, as he finishes his routine a bit earlier than usual ( 🫤 ), and vale takes a long drag he pointedly blows in the opposite direction of marc’s balcony and goes “not yet.” in a way that sounds like “i wouldnt mind knowing you. if you wouldn’t mind knowing me.” and ah. well. marc is used to it, of course. but still. vale takes the three steps until he’s pressed to the railing between their balconies, stretches his hand across. “vale,” he says and what can marc do, really? not shake his hand (cool, dry, smelling of tobacco)? not say “marc.” and watch vale roll his name inside his mouth like candy? vale asks “you staying here for a while?” and marc mumbles “why, you need company?” while rolling up his mat and vale laughs and stubs his cig out on the railing where it leaves a black smudge on the brushed gold surface and says “just wondering if i’ll see you around.” to which marc ugly-smirks and goes “i imagine so, neighbour.” tucks his mat under his arm and walks to his balcony doors when vale calls “marc!” and marc says “what?” without turning around and vale doesn’t say anything and marc doesn’t turn back.

they see each other everywhere, of course, but also more often than one would think. that’s how those exclusive places work, no? literally half a handful of hours later they get breakfast carts wheeled out onto their balconies at almost the same exact time. miss fiancee is leaning into the railing in a loose shirt over a bikini top and shorts. all hand-stitched linen. no one’s ever worn less polyester in their lives. hair up in a bun that looks effortlessly charming. miss non-fiancee has her long model legs stretched across into a second chair. long dark hair flowing across her back in messy waves. her smile is so entrancing you’d think she’s magic. marc and vale sit at their tables so they can look at each other as they listen to their girlfriends small talk about who they are and what they do and where they come from and how long they are staying. marc likes the cubed cheese and mango sticks, cheeks full of them as he laughs. a little bit of “ohhhhh, the marquez family, of course.” and “i should have recognised you,” from vale with a little wink only marc catches. “i think i was distracted.” vale eats very little. a single boiled egg he peels with long hands. weirdo. some french toast he steals off his girlfriend's plate, syrup dripping from his fingers that he licks clean. eventually marc’s friends show up on their balcony and miss fiancee introduces them. vale's got friends arriving that night, too. and somehow, they decide to all get dinner together later. because why not, really. why not.

couple hours later still. mid-day. cocktails down by the private beach bar under a roof of dried palm leaves. look who’s there. “hello, hello,” vale says with a grin. “long time no see.” and marc rolls his eyes and orders a coconut water they serve in a whole ass coconut, and says “small world…” he doesn’t sound surprised, to meet vale here, but he does sound. almost indulgent. fake exasperation. their girlfriends are tanning in the shade, reading novels. they got the same exact one with them that neither has started and they make it a whole thing. margaritas and a book club, how fun. marc and vale sit together at the bar for hours. they move in different circles, mostly. they have a lot to talk about. their knees connect and they don't move apart. marc starts giggling despite himself. vale looks pleased when a joke lands. every one lands every time, even the bad ones. he implies he wants to fuck marc about a thousand covert ways and marc doesn’t say no even once. doesn't say yes, either. but certainly not no. the afternoon passes and they do not grow bored of each other.

they met before, im pretty sure the richer you are the more likely it is you ran across someone else as rich at some function. maybe once, almost a decade ago, they were introduced, when marc was twenty one and vale was too drunk to care to remember his name. maybe some hours later he asked, "what was your name again?" and marc said "juan" and vale said "doesn't fit you at all, glad i didn't remember" and fell asleep. and marc stole vale's ugly patterned tie from his hotel room and didn't leave a phone number because he certainly wasn't supposed to sleep with random men but he more than certainly wasn't meant to leave his phone number, no matter how hot the guy or how good the fuck, and since has been harbouring this small, repressed crush for years and avoiding vale at parties they were both invited to. he thought vale recognised him, on the balcony earlier, but vale didn't. which is good.

they get dinner at the michelin star seafood place attached to their private resort, this exclusive thing that delivers oyster platters on ice for the table without them being ordered and serves beluga caviar bumps table-side where a hot waiter squeezes the lemon juice straight into your mouth and collects the drops from your chin with his hot waiter thumb and they roll out the five thousand dollar champagne by the bottle. eight people, marc and vale at the head and end of their table, the summer night so warm, the live band plays music you want to dance to, the fairy lights are on, they are the loudest table by far, they have the most fun, too. the ladies get up to dance too close eventually - it’s the music, sensual guitar, all bachata - arms across shoulders, hips moving in unison. the gentlemen watch them in some cases, and watch each other in others. vale sits with his legs spread too wide to not be an invitation and marc sucks on his teeth but can’t stop a grin. vale nods, to the dance floor, imitates a move by shaking his thin shoulders and marc shakes his head in return, and bites his lip to not laugh, and it’s like. thick with it, the air. it’s been one day in each other's company and the air is thick with it. it’s almost wrong, how it’s so bad so quick. vale has seen the ring, of course, on miss fiancee’s finger, a gigantic stone worked in silver gold, but he thinks well, he will get there. he always does. and marc does not seem as unwilling as an engaged man would. it’s almost two am by the time they walk back the couple hundred metres to the hotel by the beach, the sun's long set and the waves hit dark upon the shore and the girls got their shoes off in the soft white sand. marc walks in front with an arm round miss fiancee and her heels in his other hand and vale walks in the back by himself, watches marc laugh, and get kissed on the mouth, and can taste that he... wants. he usually can. when he wants, he wants, and what he wants, he gets, but he doesn’t usually want more than sex. he’s not sure what he wants, this night. sex, certainly. certainly.

the beds in their two rooms are located against the same wall, which is fun, because the soundproofing is good, but not that good. miss non-fiancee doesn’t remember the last time valentino was so LOUD about it. it would almost seem a competition on who can be louder, if it weren't so fucking. hot. to moan out loud, and hear another, from the other side of the wall, as if in response. thank god everyone was drunk enough they can pretend listening to each other fuck didn’t make it better, didn’t make it feel like they were almost, almost sharing a bed. almost sharing each other. would make for awkward conversation at breakfast they get at the rooftop bar at eleven the next morning, otherwise. but they pretend none of them remembers. of course.

marc's not much of a drinker, anyway. while everyone’s asleep, he has his yoga mat out by eight, this time. vale's not much of a sleeper, so he has his cigarettes and espresso out by seven thirty, and waits. and waits. marc rolls his eyes when he sees vale, feet up on the railing, leaning back in a lounge chair. “do you ever sleep?” he asks, brazen almost, much too personal for people who don’t really known each other. and vale says “got up early to watch you.” like he’s talking about the sunrise. so marc does a full program, and doesn’t talk again, and neither does vale. he does watch, tho. marc can feel his gaze on himself, and every time he dares to glance over, vale is inhaling a breath of smoke, and watching him… watching him… marc wants to joke about how he should be asking for money at this point but something stops him. valentino isn’t watching like a guy does a stripper at a club, even tho marc wouldn’t mind that. valentino is watching with little passion to his gaze. he’s not cold, he’s just- beholding, more than anything. when marc rolls up his mat, neither speaks, and when marc walks back to his balcony doors, neither speaks, but when marc is about to slide them open, vale calls “marc!” and marc, not turning around, calls back “what?” but vale doesn’t say anything, and marc goes inside, smiling.

rooftop bar buffet breakfast is chaotic and loud just like dinner the night before. marc is sun-bright and easy and a pleasure to look at, but vale keeps back, sits in shadows and has single slices of crispy toast, because he needs to understand what it is he needs and wants. what he's after, with marc. which means it's probably more than just a casual beach resort one-night-stand. but an affair is exhausting and he loses interest quicker than he thinks, usually. so he likes to make sure he knows what he’s after, before he starts it. miss fiancee has her arms around marc's neck from behind, kissing his wide smile upside down. vale pays attention to how that makes him feel, and the results are not very good for himself. no, indeed. it's been a single day and a half, he really is outdoing himself.

they spend the day apart, couple activities. exploring the island. the resort does excursions, all very beautifully planned and executed. idk which of vale's friends came with, but they trot up paths leading them to spectacular vistas, take pictures of each other and together like they are normie tourists. catch a glimpse of people doing cliff jumping and vale thinks "jesus christ" with a bit of interest to it and then, “marc would enjoy this shit, bet.” etc etc etc yk. fun stuff. why are you even thinking about him, what he would enjoy, some guy you don’t know, you barely met. they don’t meet for dinner either, everyone's rather exhausted so they sleep early, eight people who all dream of various shades of green.

their little morning meetups start feeling a little too much like dates by day three, i think. not that they do anything people do on dates but it's- ah. they talk, calmly, between marc's exercises. about random stuff. personal things, almost. opinions. preferences. little arguments that sound too much like flirting to the outsider's ear. vale’s gaze is stuck to marc’s hips too often. marc arches extra deep through his workout and knows he's doing it and wonders why he's doing it and knows why he's doing it. he can almost hear the words on vale's tongue. he can tell that vale's holding back. you'd think he'd have earned a "great ass" by now but vale is not. saying it out loud. even though they both know he's thinking it rather nonstop. fun. fun. when vale calls "marc!" after him this time, marc turns around and walks backwards as he asks "what?" and vale's gaze travels down him like he's a feast and instead of answering, vale leans his chin into his hand and his elbow on the railing between their balconies, grinning all sleazy, wiggling his brows, and marc rolls his eyes and winks at vale with a grin. slaps his hand to his ass before going inside. vale whistles after him, low, and ah. dangerous now. it's getting. rather dangerous, now.

through the night the breeze picked up rather dramatically and the waves run too high and the beach is closed and everyone's still exhausted from the day before anyway, so what better way to spend the day if not. by the rooftop pool. that's oh-so exclusive, just the eight of them and the two strangers who booked the last suite and turn out to be acquaintances of acquaintances of acquaintances of vale's. some extremely successful music agent and her beautiful wife, delightful couple. it's a bad day for valentino. marc is wearing nothing but the tiniest swim shorts and he looks like adonis hewn from marble and he keeps canonballing into the pool and emerging from it all wet and glistening and leaving so little to the imagination vale feels like he's being punished for he knows not what. thank god he has sunglasses on.

marc's also on sunscreen duty, somehow. so vale watches as marc - dripping, grinning - settles on the very edge of miss fiancee's deck chair and applies generous amounts of sunscreen across her front and back and legs with expertise while she holds up another fucking coconut for him to sip from and then, ah. miss fiancee says please. what about miss non-fiancee? and marc laughs and says "im sure valentino would mind" looking over and vale says "why would i mind" and demonstratively leans back in his own deck chair like he's not even watching. marc's so good at applying sunscreen. very efficient. done in no time, and it's not awkward at all, indeed both girls end up laughing comfortably. and then, as if he’s just moving down the line, he settles on the edge of vale's chair, a bit higher up, further in. "sunscreen?" he asks with an innocent smile and vale stares at him, rather shocked, from behind his sunglasses. how does marc keep surprising him... questions questions... "you'd need it, you know" miss non-fiancee says. "he never uses any." and vale stares at marc still, and then goes "sure." so marc says "turn around, then" quietly and squeezes sunscreen into vales hands so he can rub down his own chest and vale doesn't know what he fucking expected would happen, a god damn handjob? is he crazy? is he crazy??? but marc just slips the sunscreen across his back, with care. round his shoulders, lifts the gold chain vale's wearing to apply it in his neck. vale can feel marc's exhales on his skin at times. marc's hands down his back. careful, strong hands. warm. confident. marc, humming some slow tune under his breath. and eventually, marc says just as quietly, "can you do my back for me? the girls- you know. long nails-" they get up for that and vale realises again how much taller he is, than marc. it's funny, too, because as he's grabbing for the sunscreen, marc says "your hands are so large." all quiet. quiet. holds his own, palm to palm, to vale's. laughs about it. and vale says "seems we are both proportionate." cause he CANNOT help himself and starts squeezing way too much sunscreen onto marc's back and the creamy almost gel-like whiteness of it doesn't help him at all. truly vatino ronzi god's strongest soldier. should get a medal for somehow keeping his boner at manageable levels while kneading his hands into marc's tan, smooth skin for much longer than exactly necessary. he's bad at applying sunscreen, okay, marc has that shit spread over his tits and abs for minutes by the time vale moves to his second shoulder blade. discovers a long scar running down marc’s right arm. makes a mental note to ask about that, at some point later, when the sun isn’t so cheerful. "why don't you get in the pool?" marc asks at some point and vale goes "i do" with his nose near marc's spine as he spreads sunscreen down his back and marc says "no, you don't, you're just sitting there. watching me." and it's. quiet. quiet, quiet words, mere murmurs, the others are loud, music is playing, no one is listening. vale straightens then, and leans in across marc's shoulder, right to his ear, says "i like watching you." and marc replies "i know." and then, looking over his shoulder, their faces quite close, "is that all you like? watching?" and then louder "thanks for the help, geez." and rubs his legs down by himself, throws the sunscreen on vale’s chair and runs back to dive into the pool in a perfect header.

and vale just... walks after him like he's pulled along on a string and sits down by the edge of the pool so his legs are hanging in the water. marc emerges, sees him, this broad fucking SMILE lights up his face and he slips over and crosses his arms on the pool edge right next to vale and goes "not so bad, is it?" picks up some water and flicks the drops up into vale's face and vale is like. in real trouble. says "stop that," with a smile and marc rolls his eyes as per usual and goes "make me." like its TOO cliche and vale says "don't give me ideas.", grin widening, shark's teeth, and marc says "maybe you need some." with an answering grin and it's- rather clear. in a way. that marc is WAITING for him to DO something. to make a move. to act on it, that thing they both feel, so clear it's overwhelming, really. kinda headloss-y a moment. headloss-y days, overall. vale's pulse is sitting in his throat, he can taste it. like blood on his tongue. this is NOT normal, for vale. this is about as far away from normal as it gets, for him. he wants to fuck marc, sure. but- marc just keeps staring up at him, tongue running across his lips and vale's hand twitches on the pool rim and when marc catches the movement, he smiles, easy, and goes "well, then-" and swims off. does a couple laps round the pool. vale is offered a drink in the meantime which he declines. who serves glass tumblers by the pool? indeed time does something very weird while he's sitting there, feeling the barrier of sunscreen between his skin and the baking rays across his back. zeroes in. goes blurry round the edges. marc's perfect form cuts through the water. twice people call his name and he doesn't realise until they grab at him. eventually marc makes his way back to him - maybe five, maybe ten minutes later tho it feels like forever - and lifts himself out of the water next to vale, his wet shorts glued to all of him, skintight, right next to vale's face. quite the- quite the sight. all very. obvious. vale sucks on his own tongue, eyes travelling up and marc is looking down at him, curious little smile to him. before marc can offer his hand, vale gets up, like he's not even deciding himself anymore, like the idea of marc going anywhere means vale will go there, too. and ah. sure. "wrong" step. slippery tile. haha whoops. vale steadies marc from “falling” by grabbing his hip, feels a bit like marc is- playing a game with him that he doesn't know the rules of? and then marc, very deliberately, grins up at him, says "good catch." and throws them both over the edge into the water.

one's never seen two people yell and scream and throw profanities at each other while laughing so hard. "you bastard! you bastard!" while vale's curls hang wet and dripping and he dunks marc under and marc slips out from his grasp and comes up throwing his head back in laughter and their legs beat against each other's in the water and they throw handfuls of water in each other's faces. its like they are children. it's awful. vale stops just short of grabbing marc’s face and- kissing him? like. at least thrice. does pull at marc's shorts as a joke as he's climbing out of the pool, though, and gets them low enough to glimpse the curve of his ass and he's NOT sure why he would do that to himself, honestly. vale... vale... always causing his own problems...

spends a couple more minutes in the water with the two other guys, then, to fucking CHILL, while marc gets showered off within a tiled-off nook from which one can watch the pool so marc gets just. prime view. of vale getting out of the water. his lean chest, collecting a tan, the sun pearling diamond across the beads of water... the cut of his sharp hips, indication of his pelvis, shorts riding low enough you can see half his tattoo peeking out and marc's back hits the wall when he remembers how he laughed, all those years back, when he came face to face with it for that first and only time, and vale scowled "don't laugh at him." and marc ran a thumb across the outline, still grinning. "cute" he remembers he called the damn turtle. "cute" and vale said "he likes you." like he was serious about it. like the turtle was a living animal he trusted the judgement of. curious detail to remember. marc's head is spinning a little under the cool stream of the shower. he's not sure. what he's doing. talking to vale like he does. encouraging him. he's not sure why he doesn't stop. he knows why… but he should also feel worse than he does about it. and he doesn't feel bad enough, at all. only a little. not enough to stop. not enough to not wish vale, walking over now, would say fuck it and press him into the corner of this half-shower and slip his tongue into marc's mouth and his hand down marc's shorts. but instead marc pushes his hair back and vale asks "this sunscreen doesn't need reapplying, does it?" and marc wants to make some joke about how vale wishes but this time, ah. slips in earnest. no jokes to it. and vale juuuust catches him by the waist and keeps him from cracking his head on the blue-glitter tiles. says "hey, careful." quietly. his second hand on marc's elbow is so warm it's almost. burning. and marc says "sorry." and can't even look vale in the face. glances up once, and sees the look to vale's eyes, such a weird, weird look and thinks fuck and shakes free with a "thank you." he’s not sure he’s said out loud.

marc spends the rest of the day with his friends and close to miss fiancee, stealing her fries and kissing her jaw and not looking vale's way at all and it's- like a warmth in the neck, when vale stares his way. which doesn't happen that often, actually. it's a very weird late afternoon. they get dinner four and four, and it’s a relief, to get away from each other. to not- ah. it's wrong. marc CAN do what he wants, and vale DOES what he wants, but it's still- there's a difference. between having random sex with someone you think is hot once or twice during a vacation stay, and- whatever the fuck is happening between them.

they both don't sleep well that night, and by six thirty am marc is woken from a shallow sleep by a gentle knock at the door. it's a hotel concierge, apologising for the early disturbance, however, mr rossi has confirmed this morning that mr marquez shall personally receive this following message as ordered by mr marquez in this piece of writing and he first shows marc a quickly drawn up note saying he wants to be woken at six thirty SHARP to be given the note from vale with a scribble beneath that definitely looks like a not-too-bad rendition of his own signature. wow. and then the note itself that he unfolds, which reads

sorry, down at the beach this morning, will miss yoga :(((((((((((((((((

and beneath

btw yeah y. a. l. p. cheers!

and beneath

vale

good thing no one but the concierge is there to witness his stupid fucking smile which SOME evil tongues might call "critically" on the verge of "falling in love". marc thanks the man for being punctual and goes back inside to dress, quickly, in a loose t-shirt and wide shorts and his ugliest sandals. miss fiancee is fast asleep, no wonder, marc has been tossing all night and woke her thrice. so he hurries down to the beach through the greying morning, the grounds are empty and quiet, the sky just beginning to tint in the most beautiful pastel hues, all light pinks and light blues and light yellows. the sand is almost blue in the shade when he steps out on it, cool like marc has not felt it yet. he takes his sandals off and feels the soft, firm ground for a moment, and scans the length of the beach. nothing. his toes sink into the sand. he pretends there is no pang of disappointment. and then, in the distance, he hears shouts above the waves. yodels, almost, of laughter. the wind calmed down from yesterday, but only just, apparently. the waves still run high enough. so. slowly. he makes his way down, sandals in hand, towards the sounds until he sees the small dark dots in the grey-blue waves and, on the sand another couple hundred metres from him. a heap of colourful stuff.

can't really take his eyes off the people in the sea, can he... walks almost tripping, finds a spot to sit a little off the pile of foam boards, backpacks, towels. stares out and watches vale climb a bright neon yellow board and streak through a wave. it’s… amazing. he didn’t know vale surfed (few people do) and it’s… well. something. he looks a natural, cutting through the water for seconds on end, riding the board like it's alive. when he finally drops off into the ocean marc kinda winces every time but then there he is, arms holding onto the board. marc swears he can see vale grinning from where he’s sat even tho that’s obviously impossible.

it slowly grows light out, the sky brightening and the air warming and the birds making such a ruckus you’d think they are being paid to grow louder by the minute. eventually, vale climbs out of the water, dragging his board along, chatting with who looks to be a local instructor animatedly and he’s just. so utterly charming. his face bright and angelic in the birthing light, young like marc has not yet seen it this week. calm, like a fist balled up inside him relaxed. the neoprene shows off how lean he is. it’s really difficult to stop staring at him, the way the black material slings round his limbs, the way it's closed up to his neck… the strip of throat below his sharp jawline hidden by hair. his face... his face... marc climbs to his feet then, starts brushing sand off his shorts to have a reason to stop staring when he hears vale make a noise, like a yelp of sorts, and looks up to see him just. hurry. marc's way. this weird expression to him. almost like… satisfaction and… relief? and. something else too. really just. pained, almost. but then vale's close and goes “hey.” almost breathlessly and- leans in and. kisses marc. on the cheek. in the world's most awkward little french hi-kiss. half cheek half mouth corner. just the one. they never- this is the first time they are so close, this week. marc can’t even say hi back, he’s so stunned. there’s drops of saltwater from vale's wet curls on his face, in his hair. his lips are salty when he licks them.

and then the instructor catches up with them and vale introduces him as “a friend” and marc shakes hands and laughs along to a joke and still feels the shape of vale's mouth pressed to his cheek. to his mouth. thinks the instructor must know. must see it, all red. they load the boards onto the jeep the instructor drives out to the beach and the five minutes of waiting on him feel almost awkward between them, like they both don’t know what- and marc says “i didn’t know you surf.” and vale goes “yeah, i- hobby, i guess- didn’t i mention it?” and marc says “no, you didn’t.” it’s really. and then instructor guy jumps out of his car in his street wear like vale, come on, man, why haven’t you changed yet, and vale shrugs and tells him to shut it as they load his car up and say bye and then instructor guy flashes his lights in lieu of honking and drives off and it’s just the two of them on the empty picturesque-postcard beach ten minutes to sunrise. marc raises an eyebrow, then, tries to resolve the awkwardness, goes “so.” with a cheeky grin and it’s vale’s turn to roll his eyes and tell marc to shut up as well and then he turns around and says “undress me, then.”

marc opened his mouth too far, i fear... “thought you’d never ask,” he still says, tries to keep a balance to this situation, make light of it as if he doesn't feel- as if this isn't- and then, “i feel like that’s your line, actually.” and vale laughs at that, head thrown back, curls shaking water drops into marc's face again. he needs a towel, doesn’t he. so marc grabs that first, shakes it out, throws it over vale's head. zips him open, thinks of course vale would have a suit on that he can’t get out of himself. of course. pries the suit back over vale's sharp shoulder blades. wonders why vale's so quiet the entire time. you’d think he’d have tons to say, on the situation, but he’s… quiet. just pulls his arms out of the suit with marc’s help, rolls it down to his waist. marc ignores the way the saltwater makes vale smell irresistible, helps dry his neck instead, his back, asks “dyou want me to hold the towel for you?” with another grin to him that is nowhere near as shiteating as it should be. more the kind of grin you go for to disguise how insane you’re feeling in his presence. how you have to physically hold back from biting into his skin, lick the salt off his neck, press your face to his armpit, if he’ll let you. and then vale turns around and looks down at him for a long, long moment, and says “got nothing to hide, really.” and while marc is still. standing there. vale just. undresses. fully. god, marc tries not to stare as vale rolls the suit down his hips, and on, and on. tries not to stare as vale says “thanks.” when marc hands the towel over so vale can dry off his lower half. tries not to stare at vale’s soft, long cock sat in a pool of dark blonde hair, as vale slips into wide shorts and a wide t-shirt. they are almost identically dressed, now, even the colours. vale keeps watching him, with quiet confidence, different from ever before, calm, all calm. like he can see the saliva slowly pool in marc’s mouth. like he wants to suck it into his own, spit his into marc’s, let it drip, slow, slow, back into marc's. i know, he seems to say. me too. all the time. everything was tinted in blue, before, and is tinted in warm beige, now. and marc thinks he should make another joke to stop the situation from spiralling. some “you really are proportional.” anything. anything. but instead he watches as vale collects his wet clothes that he stuffs into his backpack and slings over his shoulder. and marc says nothing. they look at each other, vale's gaze all calm, like he figured something out, and marc says nothing. just thinks, to himself, how categorically fucked he is, really.

the sun is rising as they walk back to the hotel, the sky shows spectacular colours. slowly, the saltwater is drying in vale's curls and five-day beard, making both look unkempt and him somehow even more horridly attractive. again it’s… too quiet, between them. hands not touching but almost. just brushing past each other at times, knuckles just catching, them, walking too close. no crude jokes, now. no stupid flirting, no shoving each other around like teenagers. no talking about surfing. no talking about them. no talking at all. marc keeps thinking back to that expression to vale when he first saw him on the beach and why vale even told him about being down here and why he made sure marc would be woken early enough to catch him in the water if he chose to go and see him. and then he wonders why he even went, why hurried like he did, ran down here just to- he looks over and vale looks over at almost the exact same moment and their gazes catch, and then both look away quickly, like this is a fucking. movie. but it’s no movie.

they are almost back by that time, marc stuffs his hands in his pockets as they trot up the sand and one of them hits the note from earlier and he. remembers. and goes “what does yalp mean, anyway?” and vale goes “yalp?” quite confused, like he’s been thinking of something else entirely. and marc unfolds the note and reads out loud “by the way. yeah. yalp. cheers!” and then “or is it y a l p?” and vale grins, then, finally something of his sleaze returns to him, and says “by the way, yeah. your ass looks phenomenal.” and that one. fucking gets marc. makes him blush standing on the wide wooden steps up to the hotel from the beach. makes vale take the same one, god, how he towers over marc when they are so close. the blush is so evident. marc looks so… beautiful. rose-glow, morning-song. eyes bright like jewels. vale wants to put his hand to marc's throat, thumb across cheek, and lean down and just. kiss him. lips pressed to warm lips. instead he asks “are you hungry?” quietly and marc just. nods. turns abruptly and walks off and vale says “it is phenomenal.” not too loud and marc holds up his middle finger without turning back or saying anything but his face is red, now. burning up.

they get a table at the coffeehouse breakfast place halfway between hotel and beach. one of three tables occupied of the twenty available. it’s too early, really, to be up. their food arrives quickly, too much of it, vale ordering half the menu and for once marc sees vale eat with actual hunger to him, scrambled eggs and sausage and sauteed tomato and what feels like a pound of smoked salmon, and vale witnesses marc's sweet tooth up close and makes fun of him for it and things grow kinda more normal again but kinda also not bc their ankles cross under the table and vale's stealing fruit off marc's plate and it’s not. god. it’s not good. this isn’t good. this isn’t a one-night stand or a two-night stand or a vacation fling. they should have fucked that first night and got it over with. now it’s like, the longer they wait, the worse it gets. bc as the days pass, it’s not even the- god, they want each other, like that and that and that, but it’s not- it’s bad. it’s just real bad. they LIKE each other. a LOT. they want to spend time together, just to be together. they should really stop seeing each other, at all. they both realise that very clearly, like a fact of life. the sun rises, the sun sets, if we keep doing this we will make irrevocable mistakes. the sun rises, the sun sets, i think im falling in love with you.

it’s late by the time they get back to their rooms, together, after an awkward elevator ride which made them feel every single inch of distance between them like a physical ache they could get rid of if only they’d touch, everywhere, while instead they stood pressed into opposite elevator walls, looking at each other, and then down at the floor. they stand in front of their locked doors, and then vale says “marc.” and marc says “what?” and they just. stare at each other. for a long moment. and then vale opens his door and marc his and they enter at the same time which is very funny bc literally everyone else is on vale's balcony having breakfast together. and vale runs right into it and marc doesn’t bc marc, not finding nor looking for miss fiancee, locks himself in his bathroom and sits on the bathroom floor staring at the bathroom tile while vale kisses miss non-fiancee on the mouth and is asked by miss-fiancee if he’s seen marc anywhere and answers “not recently.” meaning the past 90 seconds. not that anyone needs to know. he’s also informed that the ladies want to do a ladies’ night, that night. there’s a strip bar catering to women of all sexualities down the beach bc their locality is a popular bachelorette party destination. not that anyone’s gotta know they plan on going there, either. and marc's friend is like yooo guys' night!!! and vales like yeah… sure. while his mind is already racing one million miles a minute.

all that ‘omg im falling in love with you, sex isn’t even that important’ talk goes straight out the window when the opportunity to fuck marc all night presents itself like this, i fear.

another day spent by the beach, then, lounging round with cocktails, half undressed, half napping. marc and miss fiancee playing in the shallow parts of the water. cute little pics of them shot by their friends. vale is attentive to miss non-fiancee, gives her a foot massage so she ‘can have fun, later’. asked what they’re gonna do that night, vale calls to his friend and gets “fuck around and find out!” as an answer, which he relates as is. vale and marc can’t even look at each other. every time their gazes cross it’s like this heady, fucked punch to the gut. they both. know. vale's booked a room, already. the key card burns in the pocket of his loose linen shirt he wears open over his bare chest. he's ordered the champagne on ice. he's ordered the quarter century whiskey. he’s ordered dessert.

later, he's laying back in their bed and watches miss non-fiancee get ready for the night, put long glittery diamond earrings in that he got her last christmas and says "you look beautiful." because she does and she knows this means he will cheat on her tonight. he doesn't know he has a tell, but he does. she's tested it, after all. but he doesn't know about that, either. he doesn't have to. she knows who he is.

the guys go out to some sports bar that shows european football on big screens and serves bad beer and good snacks and makes them feel like citizens of a middle class tax bracket which is rather refreshing now and then. they sit around talking about football for a couple hours, then vale calls it a night by ten pm cause hes "old" and "exhausted" and "slept bad" and "the morning surfing" and marc asks "how was that anyway, did you have fun?" while sipping his drink and vale says "very." and bites back on some flirty remark.

they part each at their suite doors with lazy good nights and (fake) yawns. thirty minutes later marc knocks on the door of a room on the other side of the hotel, about as far from their suites as could possibly be imagined. it's almost funny, how it took him a whole ten minutes of searching to even find it. hears a bang from inside like something heavy dropped to the floor, then muted scrambling and one moment later the door opens and vale's inside in the same dark t-shirt and shorts he wore to the sports bar. they stare at each other, for a solid five seconds that feel like eternity, and then it's like a switch is flipped as marc trips inside and the door is slammed shut with his back and he's off his feet almost immediately, vale's thigh propping him up, their mouths on each other like they are dying. dying. without it. groans, immediately, of pure relief, like some physical ache is pulled from them as their mouths land wherever and their hands grasp into fabric uselessly, carelessly, pulling and sliding it out of the way to press naked fingers and naked palms to skin. vale breathing "you're late." biting into marc's neck, marc's nose in his curls still carrying faint remains of that sea salt scent. "did i keep you waiting?" laughing almost, between the sighs, and vale says "a while." and just. picks marc the fuck up by his huge ass. and carries him off to bed.

it's insane, idk what im supposed to say, it's literally. brain-melting. bone-melting. melting-into-each-other. insane. half a week's worth of nonstop fantasising which doesn’t sound like long but it felt like a week, two, three, months of it. weird fucking. romantic feelings neither wants to look at too close that still penetrate everything. they want to eat each other up. they want to have every part of each other, whole, whole, inside themselves. unceremonious undressing, vales t-shirt coming off, impatient about it, none of that sensual button after button shit, the buttons on marc's shirt RIP under vale's hands, make pitter-patter sounds on the hardwood like a string of pearls ripped off. marc kneeling on the mattress, slapping vale's hands away as he goes to unzip his own pants, “no.” and “yes.” and “mine. mine.” and “let me.” climbing over marc, being pulled along, vale's weight pressing into marc, all that frantic energy sliding off into these impossibly deep, insane kisses, marc's legs coming up around vale's waist to pull him in deeper, their pants half off, vale's thick gold chain pooling against marc's throat. they keep telling each other things neither will remember in detail later, all “fucking finally” and “since the first fucking second” and “i thought i'd lose my mind, in earnest” their laughter indistinguishable, two voices of the same melody, little whispers and giggles and groans and begging, again, again, "fuck me, please." "now? now?" "yes, now, shut up. vale. please."

eventually, they do get naked, they do get lube, and condoms they use only once and then somehow forget about for the rest of the night. eventually, vale sinks into marc, shaking, and rests inside him until he can control himself enough to- but marc looks up at him with his jewel-eyes and says “i-” and vale- god. eventually, eventually, eventually, hours pass, they both know (or remember, really.) what the other's come tastes like, what their come tastes like together when shared between their mouths. eventually, it's 3am and the floor around them is littered in water bottles (comical. how that happened.) and their sheets are sweat-soaked and vale is fucking into marc languid and slow from behind, one hand on his stomach and marc's hand on his, vale's lips pressed to marc's neck, and they aren't calling each other by name anymore, vale isn’t fucking the “valentino”s out of marc anymore. they are calling each other "baby" now, and "my love", the way you say things you can only say when it’s 3am out and nothing matters and you- “baby” and the answer is “yes.” “my love” and the answer, every time the answer is “yes.” yes, yes, yes. your love. eventually, they move, from the bed that's too damp to sleep in to the couch where marc lays on top of vale and keeps kissing his chest, as the morning is greying and they fall asleep with vale's long fingers carding through marc's dark curls.

vale really out here pulling 24h shifts to get to fuck marc. phew. dedication! (he napped, in the afternoon. don’t believe him when he brags.)

somehow i'd imagine someone would be wondering where at least one of them is. by 5am. and then by 7am. and then by 9am. but then they were both gone the previous morning as well, so. and both their partners know what it means when they don't get home. and it’s fine, really. kinda not clicking that they aren't back bc they are with each other but then they haven't actually been as obvious as they think. all that turmoil inside them… stayed inside them. and the only other person who knows the extent of it, is each other.

they cannot stay away from each other, anymore, after that. they don't even care that it's so cliche. morning yoga grows five minutes of yoga and the rest of the time spent leaning into each other over the railing, teasing and laughing, marc trying to get vale to do yoga with him, vale refusing on grounds of "how will i watch?" kisses shared tasting of cigarettes and espresso. when vale says “marc.” pressed into his chin, marc asks “what?” with a smile, quiet quiet. vale grabs his wrist before he can leave and doesn’t want to let go. this isn’t a movie, but it feels a little like one. they are glued together at every table they share, whispering to each other, giggling like children. they order for each other when no one’s around, they go on long walks by the night-time beach when everyone else is asleep, following the strings of fairy lights strung up along the coast, holding hands where no one can see. like this is. a fucking movie. but it’s not a movie.

they fuck, everywhere they can get away with it, day or night. uncounted bathroom quickies, so many you’d think it should be impossible to fit into that many hours. outdoor blowjobs against spiky palm trees, hands grasping the insides of thighs below tables, until they complain to each other of being sore and marc jokes about not even needing a fucking plug the way they move, which has vale laugh so hard everyone fucking looks at them, them, as ever sitting together, talking almost exclusively to each other. their colognes start rubbing off on each other, they start smelling the same, like a mix of their scents and sex. it hangs around them, that almost sour tang to it. vale pushes plates of sweet pineapple marc's way during breakfast, lunch and dinner, says “i wanna test a theory.” and marc stuffs himself, for fun, and so does vale, competing to see who can finish more plates in one sitting. they make it two days of that before they both can’t even look at pineapple anymore, joke about pissing in pineapple juice and can tell each other's tongues tingle when they kiss. they both feel like it worked, too. “sweet as honey,” vale calls it. “bullshit,” marc says, grinning, and adds with a sigh “maybe someone else will appreciate how i taste…” vale punishes him for that by administering the most soul-devouring blowjob of marc’s life. one of them makes an off-handed comment, the day after, when they push a single plate of pineapple back and forth without touching it. “we’re just gonna have to keep having some. regularly. so it works proper.” they both ignore the Implications For The Future of that.

at that point, they ARE obvious. it’s not hard to look at 2+2 and realise that’s 4. miss fiancee and miss non-fiancee talk. about them. ask them, eventually. they’ve been sleeping together since day two anyway, nothing serious, just for fun. that first night when they heard each other through the wall left impressions all around!!! marc says uh yeah. a couple of times. it’s nothing. vale says once. we were drunk. it was nothing. which is funny. because it’s rather the opposite of nothing. but then lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off.

they do share a little foursome moment, i think… towards the end of it all, in the rooftop jacuzzi the last evening of marc’s and miss fiancee's stay. mostly bc miss non-fiancee randomly climbs into miss fiancee's lap and marc and vale don’t stare for more than a minute before vale's swum over and pulled marc into his. they are all pretending to be more drunk than they are, really. everyone makes out with everyone, somehow. it’s kinda more difficult than one imagines, for four people to have sex in a jacuzzi, but that’s what hands are for. eventually, marc and miss fiancee are off to bed and vale fucks his girlfriend in theirs until he can’t tell what has his eyes all blurry anymore. she smells different. new, almost. he lasts a while, too, longer than usual. keeps calling her “my love. my love.”

they exchanged phone numbers, of course, but vale's not someone to text first, never has been. the next morning he sits on the balcony with his espresso and his cigarettes by himself literally imagining marc will come out any second now. which he won’t. vale knows bc he woke up at 3am when they were leaving - with quite the ruckus - for their flight bc miss fiancee likes a specific arrival time achieved only by flying out at 6am. apparently. and then, randomly, his phone vibrates at a quarter past six, and he sees “marc” as the sender and almost drops it. opens up the message. it’s a picture, marc’s hand round an espresso cup in the first class lounge, the message reading “flight delayed”. vale sends back “show me your face” and gets a funny little selfie, marc pulling a face around a sip of espresso. sunglasses pushed up into his hair. “you too” marc sends then, and vale sends a wide shot so it’s clear where he’s at. cup and cigarette pack on his naked stomach. one eyebrow raised in imitation of marc. incoming call, then. “hey,” marc says. and vale goes “long time no talk.” with an amused tone to it and marc laughs quietly and says “stop shaming me like i can help it.” vale asks “where’s your fiancee?” and marc answers “bathroom.” so vale goes “talk to me, then.”

and marc starts relating how the car ride took longer than expected and he thought the airport people would be calling soon to ask where the hell they are but they arrived right on time and their welcoming airport staff member told them they’d probably be delayed, immediately, and vale just. let’s him talk. listens, quips in some smartass remark here and there. listens. and then marc exhales. quiet, like a sigh. and vale knows that means he’s about to hang up. says “don’t miss me too bad.” and vale answers “miss you? never.” and then the call's ended, and vale lays his phone down on his chest and stares out across the grounds towards the water, the soft pink of the morning just reflecting off the slate grey of the waves. lights another cigarette, his forth. he usually stops at two. picks up his phone again, texts marc “good flight” which he never. fucking does. he wouldn’t text that to his own mother. whatever is going on with him. stares at the screen waiting for marc to read it. to text back. but nothing happens. vale feels like drowning himself, just a little, finger hovering above the message. he doesn’t delete it, just goes back inside, flops into bed, pulls a pillow under his cheek and falls asleep for a long while.

it's early november. marc and miss fiancee are to be married in september next. but his flight home marc wonders not about that. instead, he scrolls through the pictures from their trip he’s got on his phone, subconsciously looks for ones where him and vale are next to each other, zeroes in on the way vale's hand fits on his hip. sends one to vale with no tagline but 😊 wonders how to bring up the idea of inviting vale and his girlfriend to the chalet in the swiss alps they booked for friends across the new year without making it sound like he will insist if she disagrees. the self-aware part of him is ringing an insistent alarm bell. but marc ignores it, ignores it while knowing it’s right, slings their hands together, kisses her knuckles, and says “you know, i've been thinking-”

you know?