#and to make it worse. his father is my guitar teacher. which is actually fine cause my guitar teacher is great but its still a little weird

[muirneach]

my current bestie is coworkers with my ex bestie rn this is so 😬😬

[sixofpomegranates]

Rain in California - Act 1 - California

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 1 - California🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ |  🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 9.4k

A/N: The music used in this story is not owned by me (obviously) & I used it in the same style that 'Rock of ages' and 'Mamma Mia' used songs. I gave them a different meaning and context. The meaning and context are NOT representing the one that the ORIGINAL ARTIST had.

TW: ANGST, mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, stalking, death by overdose, mentions of OD, passive aggressiveness, arguing,

Songs in this Chapter: La di die – Nessa Berrett Going to Hell | My Medicine | Heaven Knows – The Pretty Reckless

“Spence?”

 Spencer looked up from his book.

Oh, so now he was allowed to talk with them about the case.

Since the briefing they hadn’t talked to him about anything. Spencer had to beg them, to let him work on this case.

He had really felt left out and why?

Because the stalking victim was a famous Rockstar with addiction issues. Spencer was hurt about his team not wanting him to be on the case because of this. Yes, he had struggled with addiction in the past, but he had been clean for over ten years now.

Was this unfair treatment…this distrust in his sobriety, ever going to stop?

It wasn’t like they had cared much about it when Emily had faked her death or when Maeve died, but this, for them, looked like a too high risk? Because there was a pretty girl involved?

He tried his best not to sound passive aggressive when responding.

 “Yeah, JJ?”, with success.

“I asked if everything´s okay.”

“Sure. Why should anything be wrong?”, the blonde shrugged a little, an apologetic look on her face.

“Well the case-“ “It´s just a stalking case. Nothing we haven’t already seen. I actually wonder why we even need to come. The stalker isn’t aggressive and hasn´t hurt anybody. Right now he´s just importunate. The police should be able to catch this unsub themselves.”, he had accidently let a little of his passive aggressiveness slip and Emily, who was sitting next to JJ, looked at him.

“The record label convinced the police to contact us. They seem worried about their artist.”

“From what I know…this girl can take care of herself.”, Luke snickered, earning himself a ‘Come on, really?’-look from Emily. “Sorry, but have you seen or listened to her music? She could probably beat Reid in a fist fight.”

“Just because she´s making rock music, doesn’t mean she´s tough. But we should talk a little about the case, Reid if you ever feel unco-“, he quickly interrupted her with a snappy tone.

“Why, because she´s an addict? I don’t care about that.”, Emily lifted her hands in a calming manner.

“Okay, jeez. Just the way you´re on edge, since the briefing, doesn’t look like you are okay.”, Spencer took a deep breath, trying to talk calmer this time, now almost pleading in tone.

“I-I know. But I´m clean since was twenty-six. I never touched anything again and I don’t feel the need to. I even regulate my alcohol intake, never drinking more than a beer, maybe two glasses of whiskey. Which means, that statistically all of you are at a higher risk, of becoming addicted, during this case, then I am. You guys need to trust me.”, the dark haired woman sighed and nodded.

“You´re right. I´m- We´re just worried. You´re our friend, Spencer.”, she handed him a file. “Just promise me you talk to one of us, if something changes.”

 He nodded opening the file. A picture of [y/n] looked at him. Dark heavy make-up, dark clothing and jet black hair with colorful streaks.

His younger self would´ve been as attracted as terrified of her.

He flipped through the pages. [y/n] [y/l/n]. Twenty-six years old. Stalker since approximately two years. Nothing extremely outstanding for a stalking case…which was kinda outstanding. No letters, no calls, no pictures, no break in, no threats…sometimes she would get random, expensive present delivered to her mansion, but that was it. Given that she was famous, this presents did not even have to be from a stalker.

 “Are we sure there´s even is a stalker?”, Spencer frowned at his own question, Emily shrugged as a response.

“According to the manager, Philip Schuyler, since the first time she played his concerns down, he gets these calls of a man asking for [y/n] and how she is doing. The label didn’t take it serious after he told them, but then the unsub stole the last finished album from [y/n]´s band ‘Shot Monarch’, before it could get released and distributed, also erasing every digitally existing copy. He then called the manager and send the owner of the record label a letter; typed on a computer, no fingerprints; stating that he wanted to be taken serious. Later [y/n] got the USB, containing all her songs, with a dozen white lilies, her favorite, back per mail with an apology letter; stating that she had done nothing wrong and didn’t need to worry, since he could never harm her or her carrier. That´s when the label pushed the police to contact us.”

“Because they are worried about the music…not the woman.”, JJ sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, that´s the industry. At least her manager is worried. Police states that he got himself a gun license after that and tries to be everywhere [y/n] is.”, Luke added.

“Something about that is off.”, Spencer whispered, rubbing his stubbles, before looking at JJ, Emily and Luke again. “There is nothing that indicates a stalker, but every time somebody doubts his existence, he does something noticeable. I know she is famous and that comes with the stigma of having crazed fans as stalkers, but most stalking in general is committed by someone known to the victim, such as an ex-partner or acquaintance. We should check that out.”, JJ nodded.

“It would also be smart if one of us stays by her site.”, Luke quickly raised his hand.

“I volunteer. I- Like- Really! If necessary I´ll sleep in the SUV.”, Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Can it be that you´re a fan? I heard you and Penelope freak out a little over the case earlier.”, a shy smirk appeared on his lips.

“‘Shot Monarch’ has really good music. Since my road trip a year ago, I love their stuff. Penelope actually tol-”, Spencer interrupted him determined.

“I´ll do it.”, Emily quickly shook her head.

“Reid, no.” “Why not?”, his voice got high, making him quickly cleared his throat. “Because-“ “Because she is taking drugs. Do you trust me that little, Emily?”, Spencer snapped at her and she leaned back into her seat. Sure the others from the team were older than him, but he was in his late thirties, and yet was treated like a child.

 “Fine. If you think you can handle it, do it. But stop being so sassy, I hate that.”, Emily looked at look in defeat. “Luke tell him what you know about [y/n] and the band.”, he nodded pulling out his phone.

“Okay so, [y/n] is the lead singer of ‘Shot Monarch’. She´s from a small town in Ohio and came to LA when she was eighteen, to become a singer after going viral. They are a band since five years, the name never really got explained by them, but it has something to do with the butterfly; at least that’s a fan theory I now from Penelope. Plus it makes sense, because [y/n] has a tattoo of one on the back of her hand.”, Luke flipped through some pictures of older man, reminding Spencer of bikers and insurance agents at the same time. Like middle-aged fathers that liked rock but still had a nine-to-five job.

“Hank, the guitarist, was a lawyer before and in a cover band with his high school friends Tom, the bassist, who worked for an insurance company, and Leroy, the drummer, who was history teacher and is also married to Hank. They met [y/n] at an open mic night and even though she´s twenty-six and they are in their late forties, early fifties, they got along so well, that they became a band. That´s ‘Going to Hell’ by the way. One of the more controversial songs.”, Luke pressed play on the video and already moved the lips to the lyrics.

  “Father did you miss me,

Been locked up a while.

I got caught for what I did but took it all in style.

Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when.

Now I'm versed in so much worse,

So I am back again, and he said

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  “The guitar you´re hearing is a classic Hank. That guy knows what he´s doing.”, Luke added, seemingly in his element, reminding Spencer a lot of Garcia when she was excited.

 Spencer nodded and watched the music video, the overall theme was dark and heavy. [y/n] voice was nice, a little smoky and strong, but everything just sounded so angry. Not really his style, although he preferred older, classical music in general over the ‘normal’ things ‘normal’ people liked. [y/n] wore tightfitting latex, while the men from her band mostly just wore black jeans and shirts, sometimes leather jackets. At one time, she was surrounded by snakes, only wearing white lingerie. She was really pretty, red lipstick making her look like a biting version of Snow White. Like a princess that would rather save herself, becoming the villain along the way, before letting someone else save her.

  “Father did you miss me,

Don't ask me where I've been.

You know I know, yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.

I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.

Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!

And he said

For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!

For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt.

I am sitting on a throne while they're buried in the dirt.

For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  The lyrics and symbolistic in the video mocked parts of the Christian belief system. Such as the bite Eve had taken from the apple, showing [y/n] taking a bite from the forbitten fruit. The last supper and the crucifixion were shown with a dark twist too. This could be a hint of rebellion, to cope with religious trauma, or simply be a way to cause controversy.

“Please forgive me father,

I didn't mean to bother you.

The devil's in me father.

He's inside of everything I do.

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!

For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!

For the way I condescend and never lend a hand.

My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand.

For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

As the video ended Luke took his phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Their earlier stuff had a little more emotion to it, was about heartbreak, suffering and made you feel. This is one of the more recent ones and you can hear that it´s now mostly just stuff like sex, drugs and anger. Most people think that´s because [y/n] writes all of their music and she´s…seen better days…”, Luke sighed, trying to make it sound as polite as possible.

“Because she started taking drugs?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows, but Luke shook his head. “Oh, no. She, according to many rumors and an interview with her father, has taken drugs since she was a teen. But at this point…she just simply seems to have given up, having chosen to not go deeper with her songs anymore. I mean, they still slap. They just don’t slap your heart anymore, you know?”

“Not so nice, when your father talks to the press about your addiction. Could her father be a suspect?”, JJ asked, making Luke shrug and shake his head at the same time.

“Most likely not. He said in that interview that he wishes her the best, but doesn’t want to speak to her again.”, Emily mouthed a silent ‘ouch’, the whole talk about the rockstars private life making Spencer think.

“Maybe that´s part why she´s taking drugs? Often people use them to cope with-“, Emily interrupted him, profiling [y/n] and her substance abuse, quickly.

“Reid. We´re not going there to fix her, just the stalking situation.”, he nodded, knowing that he had a savior complex, always trying to help and save everybody.

“Exes?”, Spencer asked and Luke shook his head.

“Just one is known, Dean Lennox, singer, now married with kids. He and [y/n] were together for two years and according to him it was toxic. Like, always fighting, jealousy, distrust, fear of being left but she still didn’t want him close at the same time, lying. After their last breakup, he told a gossip magazine, he just couldn’t watch her destroy herself anymore. She never commented on it.”, JJ looked at Spencer worried.

“She seems like a handful, are you sure you can handle her alone?”, he chuckled while nodding.

“I´ve been through worse. How hard can it be to watch a twenty-six year old? When she, like Luke said, really doesn’t want anyone close, I´ll just sit on her couch and let her do her thing.”

*****

After landing in Los Angeles and checking into their hotel, the team drove to police station. There already waited a massage for them with an address. It was from the manager, he wrote that he was terribly sorry, but they needed to come to the recording studio, since the band was on a tight schedule all morning. Luke had tried his best, but Spencer could see his excitement through his tough-guy-façade. He, JJ, Luke and Emily took one of the SUV´s and drove to the address.

 The building they entered was large and with great security. Expensive, white marble flooring in the entire entrance hall. They showed their batches to the lady at the front desk and the security, she called somebody and soon a short, pudgy man, dressed in a designer suit walked out of the elevator and up to them. He smiled at them friendly and shook everyone’s hand.

 “Ah, the agents. I am so glad that you´re here. Hi. Hello. I´m Philip Schuyler, the manager of ‘Shot Monarch’.”, Emily shook his hand and pointed at the team.

“Nice to meet you. I´m unit chief SSA Prentiss, those are SSA Jareau, Alvez and that´s Dr. Spencer Reid. He will take on the job as bodyguard for Miss [y/l/n].”, the man scratched his brown hair, avoiding the bald spot on top.

“Yes, uhm, please just call her [y/n]. She really dislikes being called Miss [y/l/n]. We also already have police and security around her house, so I don’t know how important a personal bodyguard is. I really want this case solved and it would be terrible if we would hinder your work.”, Spencer lifted a finger.

“Actually, it would be better if I´m able to stay close to [y/n]. Normal police and security could probably oversee minor details about the stalker, Mr. Schuyler.”, the man waved off.

“Please, Mr. Schuyler was my father. Philip is completely fine. Everybody calls me that.”, he started walking to the elevator and the agents followed him. “Right now the band´s having a little break. After that, we need to record one more song for the ‘live in the studio’-version of their new album, that just came out. Are you familiar with their music?”, they got into the elevator and Luke already nodded.

“Yeah. Really great. Big fan.”, Emily lifted her hand, silencing Luke.

“I´m sorry. If that´s a problem we can-“, Philip laughed, interrupting her.

“Oh, no, no. [y/n] will love that. She likes meeting fans and showing off her music.”

 They got out of the elevator, walked through the little hallway and entered the large double door in front of them. There was the recording studio. A lot of technical things, Spencer didn’t know much of, and a large glass wall in front of it, showing another room.

 The recording room was large, with a black leather couch and beanbags in it and nice, warm, wooden flooring. A drum set was placed on an vintage looking, red carpet and the overall lighting was warm and inviting as well. The door to the room was open and he could hear the three men, from the band, talking and laughing inside.

 “Guys, can you come out for a bit?”, Philip asked them and they looked up, walking up to them. “Okay, uhm, guys, those are the agents from the FBI. You know? The once coming because of [y/n]´s stalker.”, the largest man, a head taller than Spencer, smiled through his long grey beard that contrasted his bald head.

“Nice to meet you then, I´m Hank. That my husband Leroy,”, they shook hands with the dark skinned, skinny man, who in contrast to his husband was cleanshaven, with short black hair and glasses, “and that´s our friend Tom.”, the chubby, white, blond waved at them friendly.

“Why would like to talk with each of you individually, later at the police station, if that is possible.”, Emily said before introducing her team again, also mentioning Spencer´s duty as bodyguard. Leroy grimaced his face.

“Uh, [y/n] will hate that. The girl does not like being babysat.” “I´m not going to babysit her.”, Spencer answered, making Leroy chuckle. “That´s not how she will see it though.”, Hank sighed and put a hand on Spencer´s shoulder.

“Our girl is going through a lot right now. So it would be nice of you, to not take everything she´s saying personally, okay?”

“Personally?”

 Spencer raised his eyebrows. He desperately hoped [y/n] wouldn’t be a bitch the entire time, since he couldn’t promise to not give her a piece of his mind, if so.

“[y/n]´s a little belligerent…Easy to get triggered and then she blows up like a bomb.”, Tom said and JJ cocked her head. “Is the stalking getting at her?”, Leroy shook his head. “Not really. But her mother died a few months ago and since then…little rough patch. She´ll get better. We all hit rock bottom once.”

“Is she going to therapy?”, Emily asked straight forward, making Tom, the chubby one chuckle. “Not since she hit the last therapist a few years ago. We paid his medical expenses and he was nice enough to not sue her. But we are here to help her, once she´s ready to let us.” “Must be exhausting, for you.”, JJ said empathetic and all the men waved off.

“Because of the drugs? No, it´s not that bad. She´ll collect herself. I have seven kids. Four of them are going through puberty right now. Phil has a toddler and Leroy and Hank have three rescue dogs and a couple of snakes. We can handle her.”, Tom laughed and the rest of the men started too.

“And that little stalker…Imma just say, I´m gonna rip him a new one, should I ever get the chance of meeting him. Counts for all of us.”, Hank added with everyone nodding in agreement.

“[y/n]´s a really nice girl and she´s been through a lot. If you´re nice to her, chances are high she´ll warm up to you and you won´t have any problems.”, Tom said to Spencer making him nod.

“And if she doesn’t?”, the tall doctor didn’t get an answer and just witnessed the rockers share a look.

 Nice girl. Drug issues not so bad. Be nice and maybe she´s nice to you. For Spencer all of that sounded like he would have to walk around on eggshells, while she would blast through walls like a wrecking ball. The manager, Philip, checked his watch and looked around.

 “So, where´s [y/n]? One more song and we´re done. Would be great not to hold up the investigation for too long.”

“She went to the toilet thirty minutes ago. We just ate our sandwiches. She said she wasn’t hungry.”, Leroy answered and at the same moment [y/n] walked in.

 Spencer looked at her and for a moment forgot how to breathe. Short, high waisted, leather skirt, low cut, tank top and biker boots, all black, rounded off with fishnet stockings.  [y/n] looked like she had climbed out of a teenagers wet dream. The perfect, little goth-girlfriend. She stretched a little and Philip looked at her.

 “Bonjour, Philly.”, she said with a sassy undertone, while walking up to him and leaning on his shoulder. He was the same high as her, which wasn’t really tall, about 5,4, if Spencer had to guess.

“Hey, where were you?”, the pudgy man asked her.

“Took a nap in my car.”, she booped his nose and gave him a sheepish little smile. Spencer knew she was high. In fact the whole room knew it.

“You drove here?”, Tom asked shocked and [y/n] grinned sarcastically.

“I guess so, else somebody explain to me why my car´s here.”, Phillip patted her shoulder, looking worried as she took four pills out of an orange pillbox from her bag. He gave her a glass of water and she swallowed them. The men from her band looked at her concerned, making her give them a pearly white smile.

“Headache.”, she explained and they only nodded. Spencer couldn’t help but think, that she wasn’t having a headache and even if she had, it was probably a withdrawal symptom.

“You know that I don’t want you to drive when you´re…”, her manager looked at the agents and stopped talking, making her look at them as well.

“What? Why´d you stop talking? That the fun police?”, she started giggling at her own joke, making the band chuckle, since she clearly didn’t know how accurate she was with her joke.

“That´s the FBI, Princess.”, Hank told her and she made a fake shocked face and then laughed again.

“Officer- No wait, agents, right? I swear I did nothing wrong. Weed´s legal in Cali.”

 The team shared some looks and Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes. [y/n] was not just on weed. Most definitely not just on weed.

 “They are here because of your stalker.”, Philip explained and she shrugged almost disappointed.

“Oh, that guy. Well, then hello. Nice to meet you. I´m [y/n].”

 She shook hands with JJ and Emily as they introduced themselves. Luke couldn’t help but breathe in sharply, as he shook her hand and almost choked on his own spit as an aftereffect. She started patting his back with wide opened eyes.

 “Shit, you okay? Asthma?”, [y/n] reached into her black, designer handbag and gave him a bottle with clear liquid. Luke took a sip, quickly grimaced his face and began coughing harder.

“Vodka.”, he stated through his coughing. [y/n] quickly took the bottle from him and took a sip too, without flinching. She then started cracking up at her mistake.

“Whoops. Mixed up the bottles, the other´s probably in my car. Philly, can you bring him…?”, Philip nodded and gave Luke a fresh water bottle from the mini fridge.

 Wow. Vodka hidden in a water bottle. Spencer licked his lips, taking in the view of her bandmates looking at each other. ‘Not that bad’ looked different. ‘Not that bad’ would not have her sleeping in her car, midday, with a bottle of ‘water’ and coming back high as a kite. Luke, by now, had stopped coughing and [y/n] stepped away from him again.

 “You good?”, she asked him, watching him wipe away his tears.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry.”, the black haired girl waved him off.

“Nah, don’t worry. I had asthma till I was twelve.”, he shook his head.

“I- I- No asthma. Just a really big fan.”, she started laughing again and although the light was dimmed, Reid could clearly see Luke´s cheeks turning red.

“Oh, that´s cute. But ‘Take My Breath Away’ is by Berlin.”, that sentence actually made the whole room laugh except for Spencer, who didn’t understand the reference. “What´s your name?”

“Luke Alvez.”, she shook his hand again, this time he didn’t almost choke.

“Well, nice to meet you, Luke. What´s your favorite song of ours?”

“25, no doubt. Really amazing. Like a James Bond song.”, the bandmates chuckled.

“We said that too.”, Leroy snickered, patting Luke´s shoulder and [y/n] nodded.

“It´s also my favorite. Excited to hear one of the new songs?”, Luke nodded excited and she turned her head to Spencer. “We both don’t know each other yet. Hi, I´m [y/n] and you are?”

 She sounded quite collected. Clearly high, but able to think straight if necessary. [y/n] must´ve been doing this for a while now, seeming to have figured out, how much she could handle while working. Spencer had been at that point too once. You wanted to do your work and be good at it, but needed to be high, to make it through the day. So you just tried over a period of time, bit by bit, how much you were able to take before doing a shitty job. ‘Not that bad’ didn’t make you figuring out a system to be high all the time.

 “Dr. Spencer Reid.”, he shook her hand.

“Dr. Reid will be your bodyguard, [y/n].”, Philip explained and quickly earned an angry look, as she let go of Spencer´s hand instantly.

“What? I don’t need a bodyguard, we talked about this.”, she hissed at her manager, but then started laughing after looking Spencer up and down. “And then that guy?”, Philip nodded as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Do not take it personally’, Spencer told himself.

“I am more than capable of protecting you.”, he stated as friendly as possible, making her giggle.

“From what? A difficult math question?”

 [y/n] mocking tone started to piss him off, but as Spencer felt Emily´s look on him, he played it cool. After all, he had to proof himself able to handle her.

 “Your stalker.”, he corrected her and she licked her lips, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, looking at Luke.

“Since you don’t have asthma, would you mind if I…?”, Luke shook his head and she smiled. “Nice.”, she looked back at Spencer, at his gun. “Philip has a gun too.” “But Philip isn’t an FBI agent.”, Hank told her, making her shake her head in protest, like a little child.

“That´s ridiculous. And all of that just because a stranger sends me stuff, people send me stuff all the time.”

“You should be more worried about this guy.”, Leroy said and Tom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what if he´s dangerous?”

“What´s the worst that could happen, like honestly, Doctor?”, she cocked her head at Spencer, looking up at him with an almost flirty smile.

“He could kill you.”, he gave back objectively, making the rockers obviously worried. “Geez. You make that sound like it´s a bad thing.”, she snickered and looked over to Luke. “Luke, wanna hear some music?”, he nodded.

“It would be an honor.”, his sentence made her giggle as she walked past him.

“You´re really cute.”

 [y/n] walked into the recording room, Tom, Leroy and Hank following her. She put on her headphones and lit a cigarette, putting the package on the little table next to her mic. Philip closed the door and started pushing some buttons on the sound mixer in front of him. JJ whistled impressed.

 “You do the technical stuff too?”, he nodded, chuckling.

“Since the stalking started, I try having as little people near [y/n] as possible. Thought it might just be a little crush from a weirdo and when he doesn’t get to see her, he gets over it.” “We need a list of the people that worked here though.”, Emily told him and he nodded.

“Of course.”, then he pushed a button and started talking into his microphone. “You guys, ready? Last song. ‘My Medicine’, then we can go home.”

 They all approved of his words and started to playing. [y/n] relighting her cigarette and clearing her throat. Spencer couldn’t tell if that was her simply not caring or doing it for the feeling of the song. However, it seemed to fit the style.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

“I love this already.”, Luke whispered and JJ chuckled.

“You haven’t even heard anything yet.”, she snickered.

“Doesn’t matter, the feeling is there.”, he lifted his arms, showing her his goosebumps.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

And somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

Spencer watched [y/n] starting to move to the rhythm, swaying her hips and tapping her left foot to the beat, then looked to Philip pressing some buttons.

 “She´s gonna be happy with that one.”, he whispered almost to himself and the next time Spencer looked at the band again, it almost felt like she was attentionally singing in his direction.

“Well I drink what you leak and I smoke what you sigh

See you cross the room with that look in your eye

Got a man to his left and a girl to his right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

She started moving her head in a way that made her long black hair fall in her face, framing her features almost delicately. While Spencer starred and earned some grins from [y/n], he could hear Luke whisper with Emily, who actually seemed to like the music too.

“There's a tiger in the room and a baby in the closet”

The room laughed and Spencer looked confused, having JJ tell him, that it was a movie reference. Sometime he felt like an alien, having such simple references fly over his head. Star Trek or Book references would´ve been easier for him…although he still didn’t know what that ‘Twilight’ book was Penelope and JJ talked about a couple of times. Or that other book all the women had talked about in their break….what was it called, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’? They had told him it was a romance novel, so he just assumed it was like ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.

“Pour another drink mom I don't even want it

Then I turn around and think I see someone that looks like you”

Philip pressed some buttons again, [y/n] now harmonizing with herself.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again again

And somebody mixed my medicine

Again, again, again

Again, again, again

Again, again, again”

The music started to slow down again, just like [y/n] movements, making Luke whisper words in awe.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

Philip and the team applauded as [y/n] took her headphones off and the men put their instruments away.

 “I´m happy with that.”, she said looking at Philip. “You, Philly?”

“Sounded great to me.”, he gave back, happy to answer.

“What about my new favorite fan. Luke?”, Luke quickly pushed Spencer aside to get to the microphone.

“Loved every second of it! Like- Amazing! Really!”, she giggled, throwing her head back and came through the door.

“What about my new guard dog?”, Spencer pointed at himself, not knowing if she was talking about him. “Of course you. So, what do you think, Doctor?”

“I- I don’t really know.”, she raised her eyebrows at his answer.

“Okay? Was it the drugs or just the music in general?”, he felt himself go pale. “Ah, okay. You´re prude, get it. I mean you already have that whole tutor-thing about you, so…Bach or Chopin?”

“Pardon?” “Which one? Or is it Mozart, or the deaf bitch, Beethoven?”, she grinned snarky.

 [y/n] had a mocking tone in her voice, making Spencer feel embarrassed and like he was in school again, when the other kids in high school were making fun of him for not being cool enough. But he was too old to be bullied by a little junkie, who thought she was better than him.

 “I´m surprised somebody like you would even know them.”, her smile vanished.

“Little bitch.”, she snapped at him, stepping closer as he cocked his eyebrows at her. Philip quickly walked between the two of them and smiled.

“So, what are we doing next? The albums done. Taken care of. [y/n] have you eaten something today? You wanna go out for dinner?”

“No, I haven’t and no, I don’t want to, when THAT is around.”, with ‘that’ she clearly meant Spencer.

“Now don’t be grumpy, Princess. You started it.”, Hank told her and she started to pout, shoulders relaxing.

“Wasn’t worth my time anyways.”, she murmured and Spencer felt himself getting proud. This was the first person, trying to bully him, he had stand a chance against.

“So, we´re gonna need you at the police station, if that´s okay?”, Emily asked Leroy, Hank and Tom, who nodded. “And Spencer, you should take [y/n] home and check out her house.” “Mansion.”, [y/n] corrected Emily. “I have a mansion. Worked too hard to have it being called a house.”, Emily only nodded, not letting herself get bothered by her words. Philip nodded, completely ignoring his clients snappiness too.

“I follow you in my car.”, he told Spencer. “[y/n] give Dr. Reid your keys, please.”, she shook her head indignant.

“No. That guy is not driving my car. I´ll drive.”, the whole band now started saying no.

“[y/n], you´re not driving.”, Tom ordered and Leroy nodded. “You´ll get an DUI so quick, it´s not even funny.”, Spencer lifted his hand, waiting for the key. “Oh, come on.”, she groaned, looking at her bandmates like her childish behavior would change their mind.

 A nice sound. An annoying person, not getting what they want. Almost as beautiful as her [y/e/c] eyes, that actually were rather bloodshot, when Spencer thought about it.

 “Should the police pull you over and see that you´re high, they´ll look through your car and I don’t think you want be taking in custody for drug possession, right?”, she handed him her keys and Spencer couldn’t help it and whispered “Thank you”, in the most mocking tone he was able to.

“Fucking cunt.”, she whispered back at him and he just chuckled.

“I´ve been called worse. So your little words don’t hurt me…sorry.”, she then grinned.

“Things like Spencer?”, [y/n] asked him, spitting his name like poison.

 Spencer took a deep breath and watched her go out the door, telling himself to not answer her.

 “Hey, kid.”, Spencer looked at Hank and he just lifted his thumb.

“You held yourself better than we thought you would.”, Leroy added, Emily looking at Spencer concerned.

“You sure you can handle her?”

 He nodded, walking out the door and to the elevator which doors [y/n] was holding open for him.

 “Hurry up, bitch boy! I wanna go home.”

 *****

 Of course the rich, spoiled brat drove an imported sportscar. When Spencer got in, he firstly had to push back the seat, not having enough room for his legs and then tried getting [y/n] to tell him where she lived.

 “Try google, smart ass.”, was her answer and he sighed.

 [y/n] then rolled down her window and grabbed a joint from her glove compartment. Spencer quickly leaned over and snatched it from her hand, making her whine as she tried getting it back.

 “You´re such a bitch. Give me-“, he interrupted her whining.

“No. First tell me you´re address.”, she sat back into her seat.

“Fine. I´ll lead you there.”, [y/n] said, making grabbing motions with her hand and he handed her the joint back. She lit it and smoked out of the window.

 Spencer knew he should have questioned why she gave up and let him win so easily. After ten minutes they weren’t at her mansion, they were at a McDonald´s.

 “You´re fucking kidding me, right?”, he snapped at her and she began to giggle.

“You´re kina hot when you´re angry.”, her flirty grin and the way she bit her lip made him furious, because it was hot.

“What is wrong with you?”, Spencer almost yelled and she leaned back and pointed somewhere. “I´m hungry. Drive-Through. Over there.”

“No.” “Come on. Don’t be a bitch, dog.”, she snickered, resting her feet on the dashboard.

 He looked at her, for a second thinking about simply getting out of the car and leaving, before he could hurt her. Maybe she was really too much for him to handle, the drugs were manageable, but it was her personality that drove him mad, yet he wasn’t someone to give up easily. Cars started to honk behind them.

 “You´re holding up the traffic. I just wanted something to eat.”, [y/n] said, now almost annoyed because she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Spencer took a deep breath.

“Okay.”, she looked at him confused.

“Okay?”, he nodded, pulling into the Drive-Through. He was above this. ‘Give her what she wants, so she´s at least quiet.’

“You win.”

 She started clapping and hugged him, smelling like marijuana and something he couldn’t quite make out. When they came up to the microphone box, [y/n] crawled over Spencer´s lap, forcing him to look and think respectfully. She ordering a bunch of stuff and then looked at him.

 “What do you want? I only have booze at home, so…”, he looked at her a little startled. Was she trying to be nice to him?

“You wanna buy me something?”, she nodded like this behavior was normal to her. “Sure.”

“Surprise me. I never eat fast food, I don’t know what´s good.”

 She nodded and then told the voice from the box to double her order. Sitting back into her seat, [y/n] took out a hundred dollar bill from her purse, handing it to Spencer. When they pulled up by the window, taking their things, the woman in the window nearly lost it when she saw the rockstar, starting to cry. [y/n] was really nice to her and asked her if she wanted to take a photo in the parking lot. Of course the woman said yes and after paying, where [y/n] had left almost fifty bucks as a tip, Spencer had to park and wait till they had made the photo and given an autograph.

 “Okay, now drive before it goes viral. I wanna eat that stuff before it gets cold.”, she told him, taking a sip of one of the milkshakes.

“That was nice.”, she shrugged and then told him her address, telling him she´d scream when they reached it.

 *****

 Lo and behold, no twenty minutes later they parked in front of [y/n] mansion, next to another, more run down car, belonging to Philip. The mansion would´ve made Rossi´s mansion cry. At least twice as big and the property was enormous. In contrast to [y/n], it was very light and minimalistic from the outside and the inside.

 “Most rooms are empty. Too big.”, she explained walking straight into the open living area, that had a large terrace with pool and a view over the Hollywood hills. She put the paper bags filled with food on the large kitchen island and sat on a barstool.

“You could sell it and buy a smaller one.”, [y/n] shrugged and took out a burger, starting to eat it.

“Philip says I´m gonna grow into it.”, she answered, mocking the tone of voice her manager had probably had.

 Spencer watched her type something on her phone and a minute later Philip came into the room.

 “Hey, where were you? I got worried.”, he asked them and [y/n] handed him a salad.

“It´s the one you always have.”, he smiled at her.

“Thank you. You´re so nice.”, she shrugged at his words, not really caring.

“Yours is in here too, dog.”, she now told spencer.

 Ah, yes. She was being bitchy again. Spencer had only waited for it to happen. He said nothing, but walked up to the white kitchen isle and took the bag she pointed at.

 “Milkshake, burger, fries. Fast food essentials.”, she stated, finishing her small cheeseburger and getting up to her fridge, taking out a beer. She held it to Spencer who declined and then to Philip who did the same. “Lame asses.”, she chuckled, opening it and standing at the counter, watching Spencer eat. “So you´re here for…?”

“Technically it would be the easiest for all of us, if I just stayed.”, she raised her brows.

“Staying like, in my house staying?”, he nodded and she shook her head. “No chance. I enjoy my solitude.”

“[y/n]. If it´s easier for the agent and better for you…”, she sighed, opening a drawer and taking out some pills, swallowing them with her beer. “Fucking hell. But don´t expect me to be considerate of you.”, the rockstar told him.

“Should you consume them with alcohol?”, Spencer asked, taking a bite of his burger and she shrugged.

“I´m going to sleep…you guys…do what you want, I don’t care…”

“Do you need me to do your laundry?”, Philip asked and [y/n] shrugged again, it seemed to be her favorite motion. As she walked down the hallways and Phillip yelled after her. “Don’t forget that you have a gig tonight, [y/n]!”

“THAT`S WHY I`M GOING TO SLEEP NOW, DUMB ASS! WAKE ME UP WHEN WE NEED TO GO!”, she yelled back, followed by the smashing of a door.

 “She´s a nice girl.”, Philip said in the middle of the silence, as Spencer took place on one of the barstools.

“Like a car crash.”, the man in his fifties chuckled.

“I know she´s difficult, but in here she´s good.”, he pointed at his heart. “She has suffered a lot of losses in her life.”

“Then, just as a random thought, you should get into therapy before she OD´s.”, Spencer answered sassy.

“I know what you mean. But as long as she doesn’t want help or overdoes it…she has a system.”, Spencer let his head fall back and groaned.

“You know about that fucking thing?” “You too?”, Philip asked back in surprise. “Profiler. Took me no longer than the nap in her car, to figure that out.”

 Yes, a small lie from Spencer, but it sounded better then: Oh yes, I was addicted to dilaudid once. I had a system too!

 “Tell me, how does that train wreck of a system work?”, Philip leaned back from his salad.

“Well, she takes her painkillers in the morning and smokes some cannabis to get out of bed. When we´re touring or she has to be at shootings, interviews or anything else that needs her to focus, she only smokes and takes the pills all day, alcohol in water bottles is a new one though.”, Spencer sighed and thought if he even wanted to know more.

“And when she´s alone or not busy?” “Then she does the harder stuff.” “Harder stuff like cocaine, LSD…?”, Philip nodded. “Nothing with needles though…she´s scared of them.”

“She will not always be, if she continues like that.” “I know. That´s why I do my best to keep her busy. She even has her own recording studio here, knows how to handle everything herself. I thought it might make her spend more time making music than getting high. I also go out with her a lot, to a point where my wife starts to get jealous.”, he laughed bittersweetly. “Have you ever been to Disney World, agent?”, Spencer shook his head. “I take [y/n] there once a week, because she likes it there. I spend more time with her there then with my own daughter.”, [y/n] was famous, no chance people wouldn’t notice her.

“Does she even get to do anything there?”

“Not often. She mostly meets her fans there, but she loves that a lot. She is really sweet to them too, they mean everything to her.”

 That was the first time Philip had said something that was true about [y/n]. She had, not once been mean to a fan. The complete opposite actually. She had been nice and thoughtful, going out of her way to make the woman at the Drive-Through happy and was nice to Luke.

 “I know she was a little mean to you today, but she also bought us food, seeing it as a matter of course. There are two sides to every person, like a coin.”, Like a coin, just that [y/n] sides flipped as quickly like one too. Philip sighed and got up from his barstool. “I´ll show you around a little, if you want to.”

 Spencer nodded, getting up, following the short man around the house.

 *****

 [y/n] had been right.

It was way too big and many of the rooms were empty. When Spencer asked Philip about the necessity of such a big mansion, he told him, that he had hoped to motivate [y/n] to have a family one day. But now the only rooms in use were her bedroom, one of the five guest bedrooms, which Spencer got to stay in, the open living area with kitchen and living room, the recording studio and a little library. The latter made Spencer a little jealous. In the middle of the room even stood a white piano with notes on it. [y/n] also had a lot of books, all dusty, because she never read anymore. He would´ve killed to have his own library…she probably didn’t even value what she had.

 When they returned into the living area, Philip gave Spencer some spare keys, beginning to clean up a little and putting the food in the fridge. [y/n] didn’t lie, when she said, she only had alcohol at home. JJ came over and brought Spencer his go bag, asking him how it was going. Of course he said he was doing great, but couldn’t help but rant to her about [y/n]´s behavior.

 “Well, she is an addict, Spence. You know how erratic some drugs can make you.”, he nodded.

“Yeah, but she really tries pushing me and then, one second to the other, she´s nice and polite. Have you talked to her bandmates?”, JJ laughed.

“Way too long. We had interviews with them and then Luke just couldn’t stop talking to them, he has also taken about a million pictures with them and facetimed Penelope so she could meet them too.”, Spencer chuckled.

“Sounds like they had a good time. Anything else happened? Found out something?”

“[y/n]´s mother was an addict and left the family when she was younger. When she found out her daughter was famous, she got back in touch with her, to borrow money. [y/n] didn’t care and even got her to live with her, in one of the guest bedrooms. She overdosed a few months ago, since then [y/n]´s addiction got worse.”, Spencer´s eyes got wide.

“She didn’t die in the guest bedroom though, right?”

 Just as JJ wanted to answer, [y/n] walked in. Philip walking behind her with a duffle bag.

 “She died in the bathroom and she didn’t overdose perse, she drowned after falling unconscious in the bathtub, while being high.”, she answered cold, seeming to have overheard their conversation. [y/n] grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued calmly while taking some colorful pills. “I found her. The bathroom that it happened in is always locked. Don´t worry.”, Philip fidgeted a little with his hands, looking for his keys.

“Uh-Uhm. Agents? We need to go. The concert…”

“You coming too?”, [y/n] asked, looking at JJ and she shrugged. “We could also invite the cute one…Luke. It´s about 20.000 people so two more won´t hurt…right Philly?”, Phillip nodded.

“You´re all invited. SSA Prentiss as well.”, he said and JJ smiled at them.

“Thank you. That´s very nice, but I´ll have to talk to them first.”, [y/n] shrugged at that and drank her beer.

“You have my number, just call when you know. We start half past eight.”, Philip then took the empty beer bottle from [y/n] and threw it away. “Show time.”

 *****

 Half an hour into the concert Luke had shown up, completely hyped.

 “What did I miss? We had some ex-staff members to talk to. Did they already play ‘Going to Hell’?”, Spencer nodded. “Argh, dammit. Doesn’t matter, that song´s amazing too.”

 During the whole concert Spencer watched [y/n]. The music wasn’t that bad, a little harsh, but it was mix of hard and alternative rock after all. At least that´s what Penelope said, when Luke started facetiming her. After the last costume change, Spencer pulled [y/n] aside. He asked her to not be so ‘touchy’ with her fans. Since she would kneel down and hold their hands. He tried telling her about the risks of having the unsub in the audience, but she only laughed.

 “I´ll be as touchy as I want, bitch.”, he started to frown.

“At least don’t stagedive. Luke says you always do that and the risk of the unsub use-“, she interrupted him, wanting to go on stage.

“Fuck off, dog.”, he held her arm, trying to reason with her.

“Can you ple-“, she tried pulling away, like an angry child.

“No.” “Stop being so fuck-“, [y/n] interrupted him again.

“Stop trying to fucking babysit me.”

“I just want to hel-“, she ripped her arm away. “Yeah, fuck you too.”, the rockstar answered, not letting him finish and walked back on stage.

 Philip walked up to Spencer, having seem the ordeal of him trying to talk to [y/n] and him now  driving the heel of his palm into his eyes. This girl gave him migraines.

 “What happened?”, Philip asked and Luke answered for Spencer.

“He told her not to stagedive.”, Philip laughed a little and shook his head.

“Oh yeah. Never tell her what to do. She hates that and then does it out of spite.”

“You don’t say?”, Spencer answered sarcastically.

 On stage [y/n] took her microphone, saying something to her bandmates and then smiling sweetly, while talking to her fans.

 “This next song is for my lovely new babysitter, who thinks he can tell me what to do.”, the crowd started booing and she laughed. “I know, I know. But it looks like he doesn’t know how things work around here…So I think we have to help him out a little.”

 The music started to play and Luke patted Spencer´s arm.

“She dedicates ‘Heaven Knows’ to you! Penny have you heard? She sings ‘Heaven Knows’ for Reid!”

“NO! SHUT UP!”, the blonde on the phone squeaked.

 He and Garcia started to freak out while Spencer watched [y/n] clapping her thigh and stomping to the beat.

“Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close, you can hear him cry

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Sing it!”

She lifted the mic to her audience she started to sing for her.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below, way down below, way down below

“Judy's in the front seat picking up trash

Livin' on the dole, gotta make that cash

Won't be pretty, won't be sweet

She's just sittin' here on her feet singin'

Oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Go!”

Again her fans obeyed her, Luke and Penelope freaking out next to Spencer. If it wouldn’t have been a moment, were he had to fear which move she had planned next to unnerve him, he might have even enjoyed this song and the involvement of her fans in it.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

“Sing, oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below”

She now looked at him for a moment, while her audience sang. Before, again, walking around the stage, touching her fans hands.

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've had better days, man, I've seen better days

I've had better ways, man, I know better ways

One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door

Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie

Show your life with your head held high

Now you're on your knees with a head on low

Big man tells you where to go

Tell them it's good, tell 'em ok

Don't do a goddamn thing they say”

Spencer was surprised how well her fans knew her lyrics. She would just have to point at them or lift her mic and they would instantly sing were she stopped. Not missing a beat.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've seen better ways, and I know better ways

I've seen better days, man, I've got better days”

[y/n] now stood at the edge of the stage, back turned to her audience. She smiled directly at Spencer, fingers held like a gun to her head.

“Gina's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close you can hear the cryin'”

At the last word she mimicked shooting herself and let herself fall back into the crowd. Her fans got wild and continued her song, while Spencer certainly not in a long time, if ever, felt so much spite and frustration against a woman, other than Cat Adams.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Singin' oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh, Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

The crown placed [y/n] back on her stage, where she walked up to her bandmates again, waving at Spencer and Luke with the sweetest smile.

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

 *****

 After the concert and the encores she and the band got behind stage, where Spencer for the least thirty minutes had waited to give her a piece of his mind. As [y/n] giggled and walked up to him and Luke. He grabbed her arm, a little harsher than planned.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, she blinked at his yelling, answering with her innocent eyes blinking and a mocking tone.

“What´s the prob, dog?”

“What´s- Do you really care so little for your own safety?”, Hank came up to them, having seen Spencer´s grip on the girls arm.

“Hey! What´s going on here? [y/n], are you okay?”, Spencer quickly let go of her.

“Yeah, the dog is just pissing himself because I stage dived.”, he quickly took a deep breath.

“I´m not pissing myself, [y/n], but I told you not to do it. What would you have done when your stalker would´ve been in the crowd and lost it? Nobody would´ve been able to get to you fast enough and help!”, Hank looked at her in disappointed shock.

“Is that true, [y/n]?”, the black haired girl ignored her friend and just continued arguing with Spencer.

“Well, maybe I don’t want anybody’s help!”, she hissed at Spencer.

“Then why are we even here?”, Spencer hissed back. “BECAUSE I BRING MONEY! Else the label would let me rot in a fucking corner! GOD! You are ruining my after-show-high. I hate you!”, [y/n] yelled and Spencer tried not to yell back, tried to be the bigger person, only hissing back at her.

“Oh, trust me. That feeling is mutual.”, she swallowed hard and then turned around, stomping away.

 *****

After half an hour waiting, Spencer got a call from Philip, telling him that [y/n] refused to see him again and would be sleeping at his house tonight. He told him, that he should just let himself into the mansion and eat what´s in the fridge. It wasn’t from use, to try talking to [y/n], when she was that angry. Tomorrow Philip would call him and bring her back into Spencer´s care.

Spencer did as told, Luke driving him to the mansion, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He then got into the large, empty mansion and grabbed himself a well-deserved beer. Being alone in this big house was depressing. After his third beer he stopped, walking into his room.

He pulled his blue and gold sobriety token, he had gotten for being clean ten years, out of his bag. Thumb rubbing over the golden X in the middle of it. He actually had deserved a twelve year token by now, but since prison didn’t actively attended the meetings anymore, having grown past it. Yet, he still kept the tokens he had, close to him.

They reminded him of his achievement, reminded him to be proud at himself.

Spencer never wanted to fall back into the dark hole he was in, when he was addicted, and even when [y/n] would throw tantrum after childish tantrum, she wouldn’t cause him to relapse. He was stronger than this. Stronger than her.

To be continued...

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[writing-wrxngs]

Winter Day

(I got the idea for something with wintery vibes very suddenly as I was walking to my math class the other night. It’s only mid November but we got our first little snowstorm cause I live right on Lake Ontario. It was shit to actually walk through bc I was underdressed and not about to take the elevator back up 8 floors and change. Still, I got super excited to see snow! I love winter, or at least the romanticized version of winter. Also this is hella long, enjoy!)

It was the Saturday after a snow day, which meant an extra free weekend for Techno, Wilbur and Tommy. For the older boys, it meant a break from all the work being loaded on their adolescent backs. Tommy was only in his first year of school so he was just excited for a long weekend away from boring teachers.

Phil let the boys sleep in even more than usual. It wasn’t often school closed on a Friday, they deserved a treat. They had spent most of the snow day messing about and had tired themselves out. Instead, he sipped his coffee in the kitchen and waited to see which boy would roll out of bed first. To his surprise, it was Wilbur.

“Mornin’” the boy mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bowl. Setting it down on the table, he went to the pantry and grabbed a random box of cereal from the top shelf. The ease with which he was able to do that still surprised Phil. Wilbur was growing like a weed, and even at his age, was taller than his father already.

Phil watched this ritual silently. Tired teenagers were like wild animals, and agitated easily. Of the two older boys, Wilbur was the one with the worse sleeping habits. Neither of them slept well, as was expected of teenage boys, but Wilbur was definitely the stereotypical tired out insomniac. Phil had no clue what kept him up, and let him for the most part, as it seemed like any attempts to help the boy change his sleep schedule failed.

Once he was done making the cereal, Wilbur sat down to eat. He scowled as he took the first bite. He might not have paid attention to what cereal he got, but he still wanted a particular one. Whatever. He had already poured this bowl. It wasn’t bad, either, just not what he had hoped for. The disappointment already wavering, he continued on eating.

It wasn’t long after that Techno came down the stairs. “Wow,” he said as he entered the kitchen. “Wilbur’s awake before me?”

Wilbur looked up from his cereal. “Don’t,” he replied morosely.

Techno couldn’t help but chuckle at the response. “What, didn’t sleep or something?”

Groaning, Wilbur turned to his brother. “I slept. I slept quite well, thank you very much,” he snapped.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” mumbled Techno.

“Like you would know. You somehow act just fine no matter how much sleep you get. I’m just not a morning person.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll back off,” said Techno. He did indeed back off, leaving to find himself some breakfast.

Phil shook his head at the two of them. Not in any disapproving way, more so a playful acknowledgement of their behavior. Their petty little fights were unstoppable, so he let them happen, waiting in case the fight escalated.

Wilbur finished his cereal as Techno sat down to eat his breakfast. After that, he left to go back to his room.

In his room, he flopped haphazardly onto his bed and relaxed. He wasn’t tired or anything, he just wasn’t awake yet. From his bedside table he picked up the book he was reading last night and continued where he left off. From over the top of his book he saw Tommy leave his room and head downstairs. He was finally alone for a while. Tommy would be a while downstairs, occupying Phil, and knowing Techno, he’d stay down there the whole time, talking about something Wilbur couldn’t care less about.

It was whatever. Wilbur was quite adept at slipping out of familial situations. Tommy and Techno seemed to fill his father’s time plenty anyways.

To his surprise, and perhaps even his chagrin, Techno came in earlier than anticipated. “So like, why’d you lie about not sleeping at breakfast?” He asked as he sat down on his own bed. “You know I know when you’re up.”

Wilbur slapped his book closed. “I lied ‘cause it’s nobody’s business.”

“We literally share a room. Your business is my business. It’s my right as the eldest to bother you about it.”

“Don’t you have things to do besides be a dickhead? A recital to practice for? Strategy books to read?” Asked Wilbur.

Shaking his head, Techno said, “I’m not in the mood for that today. Spent all of yesterday doing things like that ‘cause of the storm.”

Wilbur nodded in agreement. “More than I did. When did snow days become boring?”

“Well, Wilbur,” said Techno, “they got boring for you when you started spending all day waiting for a girl who definitely isn’t gonna call you to call you.”

Wilbur shot a glare at Techno. “At least girls have my number.”

Rolling his eyes, Techno shrugged off the comeback. “Seriously though, Wil. You should do something.”

“I was doing something,” said Wilbur, gesturing to his book.

“I mean actually doing something. Get out of bed. I know, come downstairs and we can do a little sparring.”

“If you just wanted some sword practice, you could’ve just asked me,” said Wilbur dryly. In all honesty, it didn’t sound like a bad idea. “Gimme a sec to get dressed and I’ll meet you down there.”

Techno nodded and left Wilbur alone to change out of pajamas and into something more fitting for a fight.

He walked downstairs and into the practice room. Well, half of it was a practice room. It was still technically a playroom, with half of it still having Tommy’s toys strewn about. In the half dedicated to the older boys, part of it had all their musical instruments in a corner, with sheet music and guitar tabs haphazardly splayed about on stands. The part that mattered was the fighting corner. It had practice weapons, and fighting dummies. Phil had this part put in a year ago, at the boys schools suggestion, after Techno’s third suspension for fighting.

“You ready to lose?” Asked Techno, who was waiting for him in the corner.

“Losing won’t sting too badly, there’s no audience,” replied Wilbur. “Can’t bruise my ego if no one sees it.”

“You’re still gonna lose.”

Smirking, Wilbur said, “I know, but what’s a win if there’s no witnesses?”

Techno tossed a practice sword to Wilbur. “You’re really taking all the satisfaction out of this, you know.”

Catching the sword, Wilbur nodded. “I know. It’s called mind games, Technoblade. I thought you’d know all that, with all the war books you read.”

“I think it’s called ‘delaying the inevitable’. Get over here and fight me.”

And that’s exactly what Wilbur did. Techno was correct. Wilbur did lose, but then again, Wilbur always lost. They weren’t kids anymore, and Techno had long stopped giving his little brother pity wins.

Wilbur got himself up, and turned to leave. As he did that, the good mood he had fell. Tommy was standing in the doorway.

He didn’t even say hello. “How come you always lose?” He asked.

“How come you never let people know you’re watching them?” Retorted Wilbur.

“I just got here,” said Tommy. “I’ve been watching cartoons, but they’re over now. Dad said I could play outside if you and Techno watched me.”

Techno, who had been putting away the swords turned to the other two. “And who says we want to watch you?”

The question made Tommy think. “Me,” he said, stretching his arms out to fill the doorway. “I won’t leave until you say you’ll go.”

“Kid, I can literally pick you up with one hand,” said Techno.

“Didn’t he try to bite you last time you did that?” Asked Wilbur.

Yes. Yes he did. Techno grimaced at the memory. “I think we’ve just been cornered by a five year old.”

Wilbur silently agreed. “Fine. We’ll take you.”

“Yes!” Cheered Tommy, who immediately ran out to get dressed.

The two followed behind, knowing he’d take longer than the two of them, seeing as he was younger and getting dressed more than they were. Still, it was decently cold out, so they threw on some heavy jackets and your usual winter accoutrements. After slipping on some boots, the two older boys followed Tommy out.

With intent, Tommy marched out to the back yard, which was piled high with snow from the storm. “You know, it kinda looks like a fort,” Tommy said, looking at the snowbanks. “Oooo,” he mused. “We could have a snowball fight!”

“We’d pummel you if we did a snowball fight,” said Techno.

“Well, maybe we could do teams?” Tommy suggested.

Wilbur shrugged. “I mean, me and Tommy would be pretty equal to one of you, Techno,” he added.

“Not really but it that’s what you wanna do, go ahead,” Techno said.

“Yes! That’s what I wanna do!” Said Tommy, already dragging Wilbur to one of the snowbanks.

Once there, Wilbur hunkered behind it, not easily hidden the way Tommy was. “Start making snowballs, go!” He whispered, then standing up. He turned to Techno, who was behind his own snowbank. “Now,” he said, putting on an extra dramatic voice for Tommy. “These are the official rules of duelling with snowballs! Number one: you cannot start throwing until the end of the count! Number two! You must announce when you’ve been hit! And number three: first one to hit their opponent ten times is the winner! Understood?” He called out.

“Understood!” Called back Techno.

Melodramatic? Yes. Did it keep most of the other neighborhood children from playing with them? Probably. But was it fun and made Tommy look at Wilbur like he was a god? Absolutely. “Oh-Kay! Three! Two! One! Go!” He shouted, immediately dipping behind the snowbank. A snowball whizzed above his head.

Tommy chucked one, and to everyone’s surprise, landed the first hit of the fight.

“Hit!” Called Techno, who went down to collect more snow.

“Nice one, Tommy!” Said Wilbur, throwing a snowball and missing. As he shook off the loss, was hit square in the chest with a snowball. He made a noise as the impact was made, then called the hit. He left Tommy and moved to another part of the snowbank for a different angle. As he did so, Tommy tried to hit Techno again.

Techno, being Techno, dodged it. He instantly retaliated.

The hit almost knocked Tommy backwards. “Ow!” He cried, before shaking it off. “Hit!” He called out, heading back down and rubbing the shoulder that was hit.

Tommy’s reaction made Techno pause. He wasn’t sure if he actually hurt Tommy or if he was just being a baby. It could be hard to tell. This pause was just long enough for Wilbur to pelt him, hitting him on his cheek.

“Get your head in the game, Techno!” Teased Wilbur.

“It’s not my fault! I was only standing there cause Tommy acted like he got shot!”

“Just call the hit, dude,” Wilbur said.

“Fine,” Techno said, rolling his eyes. “Hit.”

This went on for some time, them calling hits until they were almost tied. Seven to nine, Techno’s favor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tommy, so he turned went to throw a snowball at him, but Tommy jumped out of the way just in time.

While Tommy distracted Techno, Wilbur ambushed him, and got a hit off, as called by Techno.

And then, Tommy pelted another snowball at Techno.

“What the hell?” He asked, dumbfounded by the ambush. “Hit,” he added realizing he hadn’t called it. Both of his younger brothers were on him, and very close. Closer than he knew they were. He was stuck. They would obviously the final blow as soon as he went to make a snowball. They already had snowballs.

“And you said it wouldn’t be an even matchup,” said Wilbur. He tossed the snowball in his hand once, then whipped it.

It hit Techno right in the face. Frowning, he wiped the snow off of his face and called the hit. “You guys won. I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”

“We are,” said Tommy.

Before Wilbur could get in a snarky comment, the back door opened. It was Phil, who had popped his head out now that he saw his sons were done with their game. “You guys have been out for too long!” He called. “Get inside before one of you gets sick!”

“Fine!” Wilbur called back, already heading to the front door.

Techno and Tommy followed behind, and they took off their winter gear together in the foyer. Both Wilbur and Techno wiped their glasses on their shirts to defog them as they walked into the living room, taking in the heat of the house.

“I was gonna call you boys in earlier, but you were having too much fun,” said Phil from the kitchen. “I figured I’d use that time for something else.”

Tommy was the first to notice, and broke out into a run. “Hot chocolate?!” He asked in surprise.

The older two followed behind, the suspicion correct. Wilbur eagerly grabbed a mug and sat down. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. The warmth spread through his chest and into his stomach.

“Did you three have a good time out there?” Asked Phil.

Wilbur nodded.

“Me and Wil beat Techno!” Added Tommy.

“I saw,” said Phil. “You wanna tell me about it?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. The chocolate already giving him a rush, he began to tell Phil the story of how he and Wilbur conquered their older brother.

Watching this, Wilbur couldn’t help but smile into his mug. Today was a good day. He hated to admit it, but Techno was right. Getting out and actually doing something did make him feel better. Now, even though it was still midday, he felt good. As much as he sometimes felt out of place in his family, he still loved good times like these. Yeah, today was a good day.

[lovelyirony]

Hi! “If I fail, I’ll fall apart/Maybe it is all a test/because I feel like I’m the worst / so I always act like I’m the best” -Oh No! This is one of my favorite lyrics ever, and I'd really like to see what you bring out of it :) You're amazing, ily! 💞

what if maria had more of an effect on tony’s upbringing than most? howard’s still a dick but make it funny

Tony has known he was probably not the best human on earth ever since he was five and his dad made a bigger deal out of a dead man’s birthday than his own. 

At age five, you don’t really know a lot about the world yet. There were about two things that Tony didn’t know that he wishes he did know: 

1.) The word “fuck.” It would have helped with a lot of his situations. 

2.) The concept of jealousy. He probably could have gone to a child therapist or some shit, he’s not sure if those even existed back then, or if his parents would have even let him go. 

(After all, he’s supposed to be their perfect little boy, just the right amount of precocious and the other amount being something like genius or respectability.) 

It is actually his mother who takes the reins on his life. Howard has effect, he has huge effects. 

Maria is a socialite who absolutely refuses to let her son succumb to Howard’s devil-may-care attitude that he’s so infamous for. Her son is going to be well-mannered, respectable, and know exactly how to treat a lady of high social standing. 

This involves training at a young age. Six would be a fine age. 

It’s not Howard who sends him to boarding schools, it’s Maria. She ensures that he goes to the finest schools available, most abroad in Europe. She trains him out of the American accent, into something a bit more refined. 

He spends summers learning different languages and different skills. He learns how to fence by the time he’s ten, and becomes quite proficient at it. 

She quizzes him on established families, up-and-coming families, and never keeps him far from her sight. 

Anthony Stark is not going to be a wild-child, she decides. 

-

Anthony isn’t, for the most part. Sure, he usually stays up past what is acceptable for the night to work on some mechanic stuff and uses the word “damn” a bit too much for his mother’s liking, but that’s the reason make-up and apologies were invented. 

He follows rules and is known to smile like his mother and enjoy listening to quartets play out in the open air during the summer months. He travels to Europe and participates in various activities and is the talk of many socialites who eagerly await his arrival. 

He’s a portrait, holding still for all’s approval, and he’s not quite sure how to move. 

That’s troublesome, he thinks. 

The problem is this: Anthony Stark doesn’t have any interests outside what is required. He loves working on inventions, and they are necessary for the company to survive, but his father hates any robotic invention he pushes for, and mother thinks that if he tells people he’s rather fond of AC/DC then he’s a plague to society and will be shunned. 

(He doesn’t say it to her face but they haven’t shunned Sunset yet, and she’s a whole world of problems, so rock music is the least of their problems.) 

There is one thing that he pushes for: university in the United States. He’s been traveling to Europe since he was a child, and he honestly needs to do something for himself. 

Maria is not pleased. 

“So after I sacrifice so much for you, this is how you repay me?” she asks him over dinner. 

He places his fork to the correct side. 

“Yes. This is how I am repaying you. By getting a perfectly respectable college degree from a critically-acclaimed university that anyone would be lucky to attend. Not to mention it might reflect badly on Stark Industries if I don’t go to an American college. Do I not trust American institutions to run an American business?” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Anthony laughs. 

“Mother, they cannot teach me anything that Europe can’t. Let me go to college in the United States. Please.” 

“No.” 

- 

It takes Howard to convince her, and a.) Howard doesn’t even like Anthony that much, and b.) he also doesn’t like his wife that much. 

“He’s going to a damned college here, Maria. We don’t need him to go to any more of that fancy bullshit you call school over there.” 

“Fancy bullshit, Howard?! Bullshit?! You mean what has gotten him this far in life and will make him a better man of social standing than you?” 

“My god, is social standing all that matters to you? What are your little friends going to do, choke on their silver spoons when they find out that your son is going to an American college?” 

- 

Jarvis also convinces her. 

“It will be easier to monitor his progress from a shorter distance,” he advises. “And you can visit frequently.” 

Anthony gives him a very dirty look. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to mention that. 

Oops. 

-

But, Anthony gets his way. He’s going to MIT, and he has a roommate. 

(Okay, so mother doesn’t know that. But he supposes she will if she ever visits. Or maybe not considering if Tony can successfully convince his roommate to “disappear” for at least a day.) 

-

Rhodey does not give a singular shit about high society anything or anyone. Anthony Stark is a name he registers, but doesn’t recognize. 

“Anthony’s a mouthful,” he says a week into their cohabitation. “You have a nickname or something?” 

“Ah...no? I mean, not yet,” Anthony says. 

“How do you feel about Tony?” 

“I...I suppose that that is alright.” 

“Are you from Europe?” 

“No, from New York.” 

“Well holy shit, you sure as fuck don’t sound like it.” 

- 

Anthony--well, Tony now--learns quite a bit about American schooling and what he’s actually supposed to be doing to pass off as normal. 

Rhodey (yeah he got a nickname that ended in ‘y’ too, Tony said he wouldn’t be the only one) takes him to the thrift store and tells him to pick out some clothes. 

“...there’s a shirt that’s advertising a restaurant from Montana.” 

“And? Does it look hilarious?” 

“Is that the point of this?” 

“Fashion is supposed to make you like what you’re wearing or like yourself. I swear if you say that those boring black suits make you feel better about yourself, I will be dragging you to any therapist that will take us for at least five dollars.” 

“Five dollars?” 

“Maybe less if I can negotiate.” 

“Hey!” 

- 

Tony learns how to have fun. He loves it. 

Rhodey makes him go to record stores and find the bargain bin, and they play the warped records and laugh as voices go up and down in pitch. Tony blasts Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden until the RA begs him to go to bed and Rhodey throws all of his pillows off of his bed. 

In return, Tony teaches Rhodey how to read other’s facial expressions, dress for any occasion and be the best-looking there, as well as avoiding any sort of conflict by bringing up past embarrassments. 

“Are you serious about the color of my shoe affecting my social standing?” Rhodey asks, trying to shove his foot into a shoe that was a brown color that Tony had described as a “golden mahogany.” 

“Yes, I’m dead serious.” 

“No fucking wonder everyone says eat the rich all of you are so fucking pretentious. It’s brown, Tony.” 

“Tell that to any high society woman over fifty.” 

“I will.” 

- 

As it turns out, he ends up doing it much sooner than anticipated. 

Tony’s parents come to visit. 

They call him Anthony. Which is gross. Rhodey hasn’t used the name “Anthony” in about six months. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were his roommate,” his mother says. 

“Well, here I am,” Rhodey says. “Name’s also on the information they sent out to the parents about the living situations.” 

Tony tenses as his parents brush off the obvious comment on how little they actually know about his situation and move right into the room. 

Maria stops at the huge poster of a rock band. 

“I assume that this is...James’?” 

“No,” he says timidly. “It’s...it’s mine. Their use of movement on the guitar strings-” 

“Take it down,” Maria demands. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Oh give the kid a break,” Howard says tiredly. “For once he’s not listening to you talk about the merits of paisley prints.” 

“I’m training our son for a more successful life than yours,” Maria hisses. “Of course, you’d have to stay away from your friend Jack to understand that.” 

“Rhodey, leave,” Tony says. “Trust me, it gets messier from here.” 

He does think about it. How easy it would be to walk out and check in with a couple of his other friends and talk about how crazy Tony’s parents are. How he could check back in near dinner time and then Tony could tell him all about how terribly it went. 

But Tony already looks terrible, and he’s doing that weird thing with his hands where he wrings them and then remembers he’s not supposed to wring them and makes it worse. 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I am staying until the bitter end. Who knows? Maybe I can give your mom a heart attack when I ask her the difference between kelly and forest green.” 

Tony grins. 

“You can leave any time, it’s about to get...interesting.” 

- 

Tony’s family is quite dysfunctional. They can put on a good front in public, for what it’s worth. 

Howard is impressed that Rhodey’s planning on going into the Air Force and then talks about Captain America for a lot of the dinner. Rhodey is very uncomfortable and then asks about business and Maria rolls her eyes and orders another glass of wine. 

After Howard finishes up talking about some contract and making vague threats against businesses that Rhodey thinks might actually be in trouble, it’s Maria’s turn. 

“So, Rhodey, where is your family from?” 

“We live in the Boston area,” Rhodey answers. 

“And what do your parents do?” 

“Dad works as a consultant for a local construction company, and my mom works as a high school history teacher. They both like their jobs.” 

“Hm,” Maria remarks, and it’s so light and casual and yet so cutting. Tony can see how Rhodey squirms, and he can’t just let it stand. 

It’s one thing for Maria to cut her own son down until he’s nothing. Still fucked up, but Tony can handle it. He’s been handling it for years. 

“Rhodey, how did your mom come to want to know she liked teaching?” Tony asks. “That sounds like it could be really hard to figure out.” 

“Oh, well it all started when she was in high school and wanted to change how one of her teachers treated students. It was a really inspiring moment for her.” 

“That sounds really cool,” Tony says. “What does she like most about her job?” 

“Probably the kids,” Rhodey says. 

The conversation carries on about Rhodey’s family until their dinner arrives and his mother manages to cut in with more questions. 

“So, what else does your mother do?” 

“She volunteers at the local food kitchen and helps some of the younger kids at the after-school program,” Rhodey answers. “She also makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey.” 

“Would you look at that,” Tony says. “Mrs. Rhodes sounds like a fine cook, I wish I could say the same for you, mother.” 

“Oh?” 

Howard actually laughs at that as he signs for the bill. 

“The kid is right, Maria. At some points I think your kitchen is only used for decoration.” 

“Oh, and you know how to cook, Mr. Stark?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to see you make anything other than coffee.” 

“I’ll make toast.” 

Rhodey laughs, and so does Tony. 

“Ready to go?” Tony asks, and part of it is a way to get away from an isolated conversation, and part of it is to make his parents leave for their hotel room sooner. 

“Tony, I want to have a talk with you before we retire for the night,” Maria says, and Tony tenses up. 

Rhodey can’t protect him from that, and he squeezes Tony’s hand as they walk behind his parents. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers. 

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Maybe.” 

- 

Rhodey goes into their building, and Howard waits in the car. He nods to Tony on his way out. 

“You’ve...changed,” mother says. 

“Well, that’s how humanity goes,” Tony says dryly, looking anywhere but her eyes. 

“Rock music? These snappish remarks towards your own mother? I don’t know if this college was such a good idea.” 

“It is,” Tony says. “I just...learned new things and incorporated it into my life. Nothing the matter with that.” 

“Nothing wrong with that?” Maria reiterates, surprised look on her face. “Rock music is for other people, you know things that others don’t know! You can perform violin and piano, you don’t have to listen to the personal manifestation of a headache!” 

“And if I like that headache?!” Tony asks. “If I like something that’s outside of what you approve, why so angry about it? Is it because you finally can’t control every single aspect about my identity? Is it because I’m not like your perfect little toy that you can make walk and talk how you like?” 

“You know it’s not that.” 

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks. “Because you want me to change every single interest that I’ve found I like by myself. I bet you want me to listen to Bach for fun.” 

“I do not want you to change from who you are,” Maria says. “You have eaten at the finest restaurants in the world and now you brag about making something called ramen in a microwave. A microwave?!” 

“A surprising amount of families in America have them,” Tony says. “And I’m a college student! I’m supposed to eat crappy food and then laugh about it in twenty years!” 

Maria turns red, and her lips screw up into a tight line. 

“I don’t think you should be here,” Maria says. “You’re forgetting your place. Your roommate is...” 

“My roommate is what,” Tony starts, glaring at her. “My roommate is what, mother? You want to honestly finish that sentence?” 

“He’s not good enough!” she yells at him. “You are a Stark!” 

Tony stares at her for a moment. And then another moment. 

“Leave,” he says. “Get the hell out of here.” 

“You don’t tell me-” 

“I do,” Tony says, using his full height to his advantage. “You can tell me how many times I’ve fucked up as many times as you want, but you never talk about James that way ever again.” 

He twists on his heel, forcefully opening the door to the dormitory and not once looking back. 

- 

Rhodey finds Tony back in his room when he gets back from getting ready for the night, and Tony is clutching a pillow and laying face down on the bed. 

“You know, you’ll have to turn over eventually to get some fresh air.” 

“Leave me to die, Rhodey. Oh my god.” 

“That bad?” 

“That bad. She’s probably going to try and put me in a prestigious college or some shit.” 

“Oof. Wanna fake your death and run away?” 

“Please.” 

“Well, too bad. I have a test next week, and you need to do your poetry notes.” 

“But poetry sucks.” 

“It only sucks because you don’t like modern poetry, suck it up and pull it out of your ass or something.” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

- 

Maria is trying very hard to get her son away from MIT and towards a fancy school in Europe. She doesn’t even care where, just away from his roommate and his classic rock posters and the dormitory. Anthony needs an environment where he can focus on networking, meeting more people. 

Howard says no. 

He can’t even bother to remember her son’s birthday, and he says “no.” 

“We need Anthony to go to an American school, and nothing is better besides maybe Cal Tech, and he’ll have to finish another year of college and Hammer Industries can use that as a sign of an unsteady heir.” 

“Well then get rid of his roommate.” 

“I’m not doing that, you’re asking for a PR death sentence.” 

“He’s a bad influence.” 

“No he’s not,” Howard says tiredly. “The kid is finally standing up for himself, and you hate that.” 

“I don’t hate that he can be his own person.” 

“You just wish he were his own person under your specifications,” Howard drawls. “He’s staying at MIT, that’s final.” 

“Hmph.” 

Howard rolls his eyes. 

“Go back to planning whatever charity gala you’re hosting this week, honey. I’m sure things will be fine.” 

Maria doesn’t speak against her husband, just fumes and decides she’s going to try to get Jarvis’ opinion. 

-

Edwin is also a flat no. 

“He will not forgive you if you do this,” he says, pouring her tea and adding in one sugar cube. “He loves his school, he talks about it all the time.” 

“And what, he calls you?” 

Edwin Jarvis realizes he shouldn’t have mentioned this. 

“At times, madam. At times. Will that be all?” 

“...that will be all.” 

Jarvis does bring up a good point. Besides her, of course, he knows Anthony best, even if he does keep calling him Tony. Anthony will grow out of that nickname soon enough. 

She has hope for her boy. He will most likely grow out of this silly little phase in life and finally appreciate her lessons. 

- 

Tony Stark doesn’t. 

Well, he learns her lessons. Can appreciate some of them and how much he hates that he uses them. 

But he learns a far more important lesson from Rhodey, and it shapes everything: 

“You’re your own person, and you’re far better as your own person,” Rhodey says. “I wanted to kick the shit out of you when we first lived together.” 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did!” Rhodey explains, gesturing with his coffee mug and getting yet another stain on the pillow. (Laundry again. Ugh.) “You talked like you were from a movie from the forties, it sucked.” 

“Oh, you mean the transatlantic accent?” 

“It’s pretentious, just ditch it. You’re interesting enough to listen to on your own. I listen to you talk about how much you hate Picasso sculpture, don’t I?” 

“You do,” Tony admits. 

“So then be yourself. Use what your mom taught you sometimes, but otherwise don’t.” 

��You sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure, I’m a fucking genius.” 

Tony snorts. 

“Okay, Mr. ‘I Forgot to Run the Dishes Again.’”

“I already said I was sorry!” 

-

Tony takes Rhodey’s advice into account when he walks into any board room. He wears the worst possible shoes with every single suit, usually uses all sorts of cultural references that fly over the old board members’ heads. 

He does things his way. It’s unconventional, it’s unpredictable, and it earns him a reputation. 

He’s in an interview in a suit and patterned tie (patterned with tiny robots), and the woman is smiling in a plastic way on the other side. 

“Now, a lot of people are saying you’re taking the business world by storm with your unconventional methods and personality. What helped you formulate this, your father?” 

“Oh god no,” Tony says, laughing. “He’d probably curse me to hell and back for even wearing this tie. My mother would drag me back down to hell again for this.” 

“Then who helped you with this?” 

“Rhodey, who else?” Tony asks. “He always gives the best advice, even if I’ll deny that about fifteen minutes later. He really is the reason that I’m who I am today.” 

“Seems like a great guy.” 

“He is. He always is,” Tony says with a grin. “Except, of course, when he doesn’t fold his laundry, that bastard.” 

The interviewer laughs and moves on, but Tony smiles to himself. 

He doesn’t have to be the best, he just has to be Rhodey’s. That’s all that matters. 

[angsty-aliens]

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse. 

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife. 

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement -  don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered,  “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”  

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”  

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.12, “The Ex Factor”

The episode begins with Andi dancing and crafting, as you do. She decorates the bottom of a group project for school about eggs.

Hold on a second. Let me just check their work.

Okay, first of all, that opening sentence is a mess. “Categorized by... stand on two legs”? Proofread! Come on.

But, and this is the bigger issue, it appears the majority of this paragraph is lifted right from the Wikipedia page on theropoda.

The other paragraph from up above, on the index card to the left, is lifted from the Wikipedia page on turtles.

It’s not just that plagiarism is bad, but this is lazy plagiarism. Do they not think the first place their teacher is going to check is the Wikipedia article? Move some words around! Mix some synonyms in there! It’s like you want to be caught! God!

Also, which class is this for exactly?

You’ve got Aristotle in the top left, so... philosophy? But then you also have Charles Darwin in the top right, which suggests science.

Or is this just the entire general history of the chicken or the egg question going back to the dinosaurs?

I feel like the project needs more focus.

Maybe Andi’s group mates will step up to help deal with these many issues.

Nope. Never mind.

When this project gets failed, you’ll only have yourselves to blame.

At Red Rooster, Bowie finishes up a group guitar lesson and walks out into the store to find Plot Device.

Sorry, did I say Plot Device? I meant Miranda. My bad. And she’s brought along her daughter, little Plot Device Jr.

Bowie awkwardly tries to figure out what these two are doing here.

Before Miranda answers, she sends Morgan off.

“Morgie, honey, why don’t you go do the loudest thing possible in this small room while we try to have a conversation. I think that’d be a pretty neat representation of our role on this show.”

So Morgan bangs on the drums while Bowie tries to talk.

He makes a joke about being happy with the knowledge Morgan can’t steal one of the drums, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, she’s good at thievery. Don’t let your guard down around her for one second. You’ll think she hasn’t taken a drum and then find out she emptied out the till when you weren’t looking.

Miranda tells Bowie he was right in what he said when last they spoke. You remember, that thing where he was like, “Hey Miranda, you should try parenting even the tiniest amount.” Turns out, that was good advice. Miranda listened and feels she’s a better mother and Morgan’s a happier child.

Morgan returns and tells Bowie that Miranda has a new boyfriend, whom she refers to as “Not Bowie.”

Which is insanely passive-aggressive for a child her age. Or just aggressive-aggressive? It’s like somewhere in the middle. It’s active-aggressive.

Miranda heard Bowie was teaching guitar so she brought Morgan to see if she could sign up for lessons. Bowie’s like, eh... I’m all booked, it’s not a great time, yadda yadda. So Morgan’s like...

Bowie’s like, “Morgan, I don’t hate you... I just don’t like you. There’s a lot of area in the middle.”

No, of course, Bowie relents because that’s a super messed up, manipulative, guilt trippy thing for an 8 year old or whatever to say. So Bowie sends Morgan to the back to look at guitars.

And then Miranda, who has a boyfriend, gets closer to Bowie and she’s like...

Bowie points out that she has a boyfriend, but Miranda is like, “Pfft, Not-Bowie? He’s no Bowie.”

Here’s the thing, Bowie and Miranda dated for like, a few months? Probably at least a half a year ago? There was tension with Bowie’s family the entire time and then things ended really poorly, so what exactly are Miranda and Morgan hanging onto here? More trips to the miniature golf course? Access to a record store? Plant stuff? “Not-Bowie just doesn’t have the kind of knowledge of plants that a woman like me needs.” Let it go, girl.

Bowie tells Miranda he’s engaged, which she takes well.

She’s like, who’s the lucky woman for no reason whatsoever I’m just curious and nothing more and Bowie tells her it’s Bex.

At The Spoon, the GHC and Jonah get breakfast. Well, the GHC gets breakfast. Jonah says he’s not hungry and just wants to enjoy their company, which Buffy thinks is both sweet and weird.

Like a baby holding a hammer.

Amber comes by with a dish she’s supposed to throw out because it’s a wrong order. Instead, she offers it to Jonah, who accepts and starts to dig in.

I gotta say, Jonah’s silverware technique needs work.

How do you have any control of the fork that way? Also, who cuts scrambled eggs with a knife?

Buffy’s suspicions are raised by Amber’s seemingly too nice behavior.

At Cloud 10, Celia takes time out from helping all of the zero customers in the place to finish up Bex’s wedding invitations.

Bex tells her the invitations are beautiful. Celia says she was going to mail them herself since she already did everything except that, but decides that Bex should handle mailing them, because it’s her special day. “It’s your wedding, you should be the one to have the honor of putting these papers in a metal box.”

The door to Cloud 10 opens and who walks in? Not a customer, that’s for sure.

Celia’s immediately on the offensive, calling her Melinda and asking if she’s there to accuse them of losing something to cover up a theft.

Miranda seems to treat that as an actual question.

Miranda says she’s there to congratulate Bex on her engagement. Celia’s not buying it. Bex asks her to go chill in the back office for a minute. Celia agrees to do that but then adds that Miranda shouldn’t get too comfortable.

“...and polishing a broadsword in a threatening manner.”

Miranda tells Bex she really only came to give her best wishes but then she launches into what feels like an extremely pointed story about her failed relationship with Morgan’s father. She never saw it coming, she says. They were so happy. A perfect relationship for six years. And then they got married and the whole thing collapsed like a Jenga tower. They drifted apart until it felt like they were living two different lives. Eventually, they couldn’t even remember why they were together in the first place.

Wow. She really only needed to add something like, “And let me tell you, having to raise a daughter together helped nothing. In fact, she only made things worse! It expedited things!”

Miranda’s tale of woe really affects Bex.

Miranda’s like, oh, don’t worry, I’m not talking about you and Bowie. I’m sure your marriage will be just fine. I mean, half of all marriages end in divorce, but it probably won’t be you guys, right? Hahaha. Flip a coin, right? Heads or tails? Heads or tails? Hehe.

Back at Red Rooster, Bowie finally comes to check on Morgan. He makes her promise she’s going to behave.

It’s like prison rules.

Bowie takes his eyes off of Morgan for literally seven seconds to grab a guitar and turns back to find she’s disappeared like some kind of GHOST.

Bowie does the smart thing: he looks around for a second, checks the top of a desk...

...doesn’t check behind the curtain that’s right there, shouts “Morgan!”, checks nothing else, and then walks out of the room...

...despite not having heard the door open and close behind him.

He walks out to the main part of the store and asks if anyone’s seen Morgan, but no one has. So he does the smart thing again: he goes back and checks the room she’s most likely in. No, I’m just kidding, he walks out of Red Rooster.

God I bet I’d be so good against him if we played Hide and Seek. I’m not amazing at it or anything, but he is terrible.

At The Spoon, the kids debate what to do with their day. They settle on going to Adrenaline City. Jonah says it sounds fun, but he’s gonna pass. That is, until Amber shows up and says she has an extra pass.

Jonah agrees to go. Amber’s like, great, I’m just gonna go change real quick. But, um... doesn’t she have to work? Didn’t her shift just start? It’s breakfast. Or does she only work the 8am-9am shift?

Jonah goes to thank her for inviting him. Buffy sniffs out that something is up. She thinks Jonah and Amber are getting back together.

The gang heads to Adrenaline City.

I guess I’m not sure why Cyrus was excited for this. Does he not know who he is?

Buffy uses her basketball skills to win a weird blue llama.

Listen, I don’t like amusement park stuffed animals. They’re super fragile and probably all filled with asbestos. They cost 25 cents to make and you can’t win a decent sized one without slapping down $50. I’m not saying that prevents me from trying to win the damn things every time I go, I’m just saying I don’t like it.

Anyway, the whole time at the park, Buffy’s enjoyment is dampened by the escalating Jonah and Amber situation.

Buffy turns to her emotional support stuffed animal for comfort.

Don’t put the asbestos llama that close to your face!

Cyrus, meanwhile, continues to suffer through a day of fun at the park.

Alone, by the way. Hey, you know who’s between friends right now and probably wouldn’t mind sharing a flying swing with you, Cyrus? Just saying.

After their day of riding rides, Jonah and Amber share a pretzel, which Cyrus points out is basically marriage at their age. Andi protests that Jonah is still in a relationship with Libby, but Cyrus and Buffy are unconvinced. They need a reason to believe this isn’t Jonah and Amber 2.0 and they want to know if Andi has that reason.

Meanwhile, after what certainly must have been several hours (enough for the kids to discuss going to the park, then go out to the park, ride all the rides, and eat pretzels and debate relationships), Bowie finally exits Red Rooster.

And he still hasn’t had time to put down the tiny guitar.

Bowie runs around shouting Morgan’s name and lazily looking around for her before finding Miranda nearby at some kind of pop-up swap meet. He apologizes profusely. He tells her he took his eyes off her for a second (that’s barely an exaggeration) and she disappeared. He’s been in a panic looking for her and he thinks they should call the police.

But then Morgan pops out of a clothes rack.

And Miranda laughs and high-fives her.

The two delight in thinking about how worried Bowie was. They get much joy from remembering the fear that was on his face just moments ago when he thought he'd been responsible for the disappearance and even, potentially, death of a small child. LOL. I guess it is pretty funny when you think about it.

Bowie asks Miranda if she knew about this and Miranda’s like, yeah, haha, she does this all the time.

Or basically, LOL, here’s another funny joke, Bowie. Remember when you said I should act like a parent? Well, nah.

Bowie is on the verge of tears and is mad for some reason Miranda doesn’t understand. He walks off. Morgan asks if they’re getting Bowie back, but Miranda, realizing that not everyone loves an emotionally traumatizing, surprise game of “Whoops I lost a child”, says no.

That night, Andi invites Cyrus and Buffy to Andi Shack to show them Jonah’s wish from the Moon Festival. She hands it to Cyrus, who opens it up and reads it.

No, the wish actually says he wishes his family could be happy again.

Andi says she thinks Jonah’s family might be having money problems. For example, he wouldn’t order food at The Spoon. Cyrus remembers that he didn’t want to go to Adrenaline City until Amber offered the free ticket. All the puzzle pieces start to fall into place.

They think this is why he’s been close to Amber. Because Amber also went through similar money troubles and he probably confided in her. Buffy feels bad for judging them.

They wonder if there’s something they could do. Andi says, for now, respect his privacy and not jump to conclusions.

That’s a mature way to handle it. That line of thinking lasts all of five seconds before Cyrus suggests they get involved somehow.

At Bex’s, Bowie tells Bex about his day. Bex mentions Miranda also came to see her and scared her. Bowie tells her to get Miranda out of her head. He thinks about how lucky he is to have all this: friends, family, hole.

He talks about how much he loves this and hopes it never changes. Bex agrees, but this also makes her think about some things.

The next day, the GHC come into Red Rooster to ask Bowie to hire Jonah at the store. Does Bowie have hiring power at Red Rooster? Or does he just own this place now? Where is the owner? Is this like a squatter’s rights situation?

Bowie apologizes. It’s a small business and they just don’t have the resources to bring on another employee.

Jonah emerges from the back and Bowie immediately spills everything.

He’s like, oh hey Jonah, sorry about not being able to give you the job you needed and that we were all just talking about. What? No I don’t think the kids were being weird and secretive a minute ago when they walked in here without you to ask for work on your behalf. Everything seemed normal to me.

Andi says they just wanted to help, and Jonah realizes they know he’s going through something.

Andi explains to Jonah that she found out about his issues because of the wish from the lantern.

Yeah, but it could also be that you upset the Moon Goddess by ruining Celia’s wall. Either one, really.

Jonah explains that sometime last year, his dad made an investment that went bad and a couple months ago, his parents had to declare bankruptcy and that’s when they finally told him about it. They lost their house and moved in with relatives.

He tries to remain positive even though it’s not easy. At least his family has a place to stay and they’re all still together.

Jonah feels like a weight is off his shoulders having told his friends about this.

Andi tells him he doesn’t have to keep secrets from them. That he can tell them stuff he thinks he can’t. Jonah’s like, I got it. No more secrets.

And then he makes another horrible poker face that screams: “Except for that other thing that I’m definitely keeping a secret from you guys.”

Outside of Cloud 10, Bex brings her big ol’ box of wedding invitations to Nicky the Mailman (no relation to Ricky the Suit Man) for shipping.

Nicky the Mailman admires Celia’s handiwork, then inadvertently “Mirandas” Bex by saying something to make her nervous about the wedding.

I wish he kept digging deeper. “I remember mailing invitations to the wedding with my first wife. Boy, that ended badly. Horrible, bitter divorce. Much like my second wife. You know they say third time’s the charm, but some mornings I look at my current wife and think ‘Buddy, not from where I’m sitting.’ Anyway, about these invites...”

Bex flips and takes back the invites and runs off.

The GHC, meanwhile, walk through the park. Cyrus does that thing where he doesn’t realize he’s holding his phone and looks for it, then he shows Andi and Buffy a piece of candy that mysteriously made its way into his pocket.

They spot Jonah and Amber across the way, sitting at a bench together. They all talk about how it’s great he has Amber to confide in and how silly it was that they thought they might actually be back together. Haha.

I mean, they were a truly toxic couple. Haha. Neither of them probably wants to reenter into a relationship like that. Haha. Anyway, it’s great that they’re friends now because they really--

Wuh oh.

As the episode ends, Andi has just one question.

Andi, how much time did you spend near the llama Buffy won at the amusement park? This could be a symptom of exposure to asbestos.

Well, I must say, having gotten to the end of the episode, I find myself shocked, appalled, and greatly disappointed by what’s happened here.

...

Where the hell was Gus?!

What monster added him to the IMDb listing for this episode?!

Show yourself, coward! How dare you get our hopes up like this!

I don’t even know if I can go on watching this show anymore! I’m so tired of betrayal! I’m so tired of--

Oh, TJ’s back next episode? Well okay then.

Same time next week, everybody!

[hencethebravery]

Title: “Beating Hearts,” (1/1)

Summary: He assumes he’ll tell him before he leaves for active duty. That’d make sense, right? Only his tongue kinda gets caught in the back of his throat and all he can offer is a platonic pat on the back. David Nolan falls in love with his best friend. It is a mistake. CC AU.

Notes: @mahstatins​ sent me a snail mail fic prompt and this was it. Bask in the glory of her lovely handwriting. Title from “Beating Hearts” by King Charles. Which you should def listen to. Also on Ao3.

+ Killian’s practically one giant bruise the first time they meet. He’s small and thin and David overhears a library aid refer to him as “wild.” But he likes to share his lunch even though there’s not a lot of it, and he likes spitting in August Booth’s milk every time he picks on one of their classmates. The first time he’d caught him doing it, a giant glob of mucus hanging from the corner of his mouth, David had just sat there, slack-jawed, as Killian offered up a very lame “wink” using his left and right eye—mere moments before it plopped quite mercilessly into the carton below.

Thinking back, he’s shocked that they ever became friends. David was what some lovingly referred to as a goody-goody; a bright eyed, well-behaved little gentleman who very rarely got into trouble, if ever, and who performed quite adequately in all of his classes. As far as the rest of their community knew, his family was relatively normal, at least when they knew people were watching.

“Your da yells a lot,” Killian had observed one morning after their very first playdate, his brow furrowed as he searched around the table for the right color to use.

David hadn’t really known what to say, because yes, of course his father yelled a lot, but no one was supposed to know that. And if they did know, they certainly weren’t supposed to say anything about it.

“That’s ok,” he had continued, furiously filling in a ship’s sail with a bright, neon pink, “my da yells a lot too.”

If David had to pinpoint a guess, he’d have to say that was it. The moment he’d decided Killian would be a good friend. He never made a big deal of anything, or at least, he never made a big deal of the things that were bigger deals inside your own head. And a lot of things were insurmountable in his own head.

“Just put these in his drink,” Killian had suggested one day in middle school, dropping two pills into David’s hand. “Liam used to do it all the time. Old man was out for hours.”

It wasn’t all doom and gloom of course, the both of them faced their fair share of challenges, but it was also idyllic in a lot of ways. Growing older was a blessing for them both, but David couldn’t help but think of it as a bit of a curse when all his memories started to blur further and further together. Before Killian leaves for his first tour, he tries to think back and it’s not unlike sitting on a train. When you’re on the train, right? You look out the window and the world is just speeding past you without a care for how slow you’d like to be going—caring very little for what you’d like to remember, and if you try too hard to pick out anything specific you grow a bit nauseous.

There’s a few moments frozen in his mind, aside from the traumatic ones, which books have informed him he is helpless to forget and slated to remember for the rest of his life, that he returns to again and again, moments with Killian he prays he’ll never forget.

15.

It is August, school starts in one week, and they are mere days away from becoming high schoolers. Technically, Killian still has one more year in middle school, but his grades were so off-the-charts awesome, the administration had no choice but to advance him a year. Everyone was surprised, but David wasn’t. Not really. He’s seen the chest in Killian’s room—the one full of books that only Liam knows about. Secretly, he’d always hoped more people would notice how smart Killian is, even though it’s not really the “cool” thing to be. Regardless, he is proud to be one of the few people that always knew, and where have these people even been?

“You can’t really blame them, mate,” Killian says from his place at David’s side, legs dangling over the edge of the railing, “I was an ill-formed beastie.”

“I still don’t see why we have to do this,” David answers, swallowing nervously, the heat on the back of his neck almost unbearable. “The public pool would work just fine.”

“My apologies, do you prefer swimming in urine? Because I’d rather not.”

A lot of kids make this jump, it’s not a totally out-of-the-blue suggestion, but it is quite high up, and for all his righteous indignation, David’s never been as brave as he’d like. Not as brave as Killian. A truck zooms behind them, ruffling his hair and for the love of God, urine sounds damn fine right now.

In his memory, Killian is in technicolor and the rest of the world is sepia-toned. Kind of like The Wizard of Oz. He can remember the warmth of the air that day, how it had been so oppressively warm, even the odd breeze had failed to offer any relief. The smell of the lake beneath their feet, the fetidness of of still water and heavy, bloated plant life. At some point, Killian’s hand comes up to smack at a mosquito buzzing around his neck, and that’s when he’d noticed it—the shape of his jaw, the smattering of hair on his neck and chin, the elegant length of his fingers, the tips of them callused from all that guitar playing.

“You ready?” he had asked, seemingly oblivious to Dave’s attention, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Shall we count to three?”

“We don’t need to ‘count to three,’” David mumbled, trying to ignore the tumult of anxious butterflies beating their wings against the inside of his stomach.

Killian grinned knowingly, grabbing David’s fingers and releasing his death-grip on the railing. The whole jump probably happened in about 5 seconds, but in David’s memory, time came to a grinding halt as they stood on that lip of concrete, the hot metal of the railing digging into their backs. He can recall the final squeeze of Killian’s fingers, the distant shout of a child, and then, “Three!”

Into the dark water they plunged, with Killian’s fingers still curled around his own.

It’s been two years since he laid eyes on Killian Jones. In that time he’s finished two years of undergrad, moved out of his parent’s house, adopted a dog, and written terrible poetry about Killian’s hands.

“Seriously, it’s fucking terrible.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself buck-o,” Ruby warbles pleasantly, falling onto his shoulder to maintain her balance. “I’m sure it’s perfectly lovely.”

Ruby is David’s roommate, but she’s almost never there. Which is... odd, but he can’t really judge her for it. He’s the idiot who’s been in love with his best friend for three years and never said anything. The unbelievably enormous idiot who let his best friend leave for the freaking Navy without telling him the truth.

“What if I never see him again? Do you realize that at any given moment this country is prepared to go to actual war? Like with… bullets and... stuff?”

“Excuse me, ‘and stuff?’” Ruby cackles, taking another swig of tequila, “I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, grabbing the bottle before it shatters against the pavement, “I listen to a lot of podcasts. I know what I’m talking about.”

12.

Killian’s father leaves around Christmas. Which is around when, incidentally, they get into their first big fight. They’ve had fights before of course, they’re full of weird hormones and their brains are basically on fire, it’s a miracle they can even hold a conversation. But this is one of those fights that makes David feel as if his heart has dropped into his stomach; and his throat is always sore, and even though his mom says it’s because he’s catching the bug that’s going around, he knows it’s because he hasn’t spoken to Killian in a week.

He had wanted to ditch school and steal cigarettes from the gas station on the corner. Started taking sips from Dave’s father’s liquor cabinet, not to mention blowing off all their friends so he could listen to angry music on his headphones and throw eggs off the highway overpass.

“You need to calm down or you’re gonna get in trouble,” Dave had insisted forcefully, the moral compass spinning wildly inside his head urging him to save his best friend from a terrible fate. In hindsight, he definitely made it worse. Nothing an angry, hurt kid hates more than being lectured by an equally dramatic, equally small know-it-all.

“Oh, I need to ‘calm down?’” Killian answered quietly, pulling the headphones down around his neck. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“I’m just trying to help you!”

It would be the first and only time they’d get into an actual, physical altercation. David doesn’t like to think about it much, but it is, unfortunately, one of those signs or landmarks that might catch your eye while you’re staring out the train window. The feeling of Killian’s hand against his shoulder, his own feet staggering backwards. The sound of his choked voice, the suspicious, wet sheen over his eyes.

“I don’t need your help!” he yelled, shoving him again, “No one asked you to be here. Go back home to your perfect little life, Dave.”

He’s not proud of how he reacted, he could’ve just let him walk away. But, ya know, he was twelve. He was living at home with an alcoholic father and a mother who didn’t do much to get him to stop. Killian knew exactly what buttons to push, even when they were too young to really know why. David Nolan, the perfect, polite student. Everyone spent so much time assuming his life was a fairytale, any adult worth their salt had consistently failed to notice that he was drowning. Except Killian. Which was probably why it hurt so bad.

The next thing he remembers there’s some unnamed teacher pulling him off the best friend he’s ever had, wiping some blood away from his lips.

“Don’t bother coming over for Christmas,” David hissed, his face red and sweaty, “no one ever wanted you there anyway.”

“Not a problem,” he answered with a suspicious sniffling of his nose, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “See ya never.”

That had been the only Christmas they’d spent apart until recently, and it had taken David months to forgive himself, even though Killian had forgiven him fairly readily. As twelve year old boys are wont to do.

“I was a prat,” he had said softly, his lip still a bit swollen. “I just miss him. And Liam’s angry all the time.”

“It’s okay,” David muttered quickly, “do you wanna come over and play video games?”

This past Christmas, Killian had sent him a card with an old, vintage illustration of a whale hunt gone wrong. “Mistakes were made,” is printed across the bottom, and David actually snorts when he tries to contain the literal guffaw.

“It’s cold here,” the letter reads in Killian’s steady, artful hand, “I miss my bed, and the freedom to eat shite and watch television whenever I’d like. Hope you’re well, mate. Miss your pancakes.”

It’s signed with a dramatically large “K” next to a poorly drawn Christmas tree, and David’s heart clenches in his chest. He wraps up a paperback copy of Moby Dick and sends it off to Killian’s fleet, but not before writing a note on the inside cover about how the whale probably isn’t worth losing a limb over.

17.

The first time he wonders whether or not he might be a little bit in love with his best friend is right after he finds out that he’s enlisted. Not that he’s thinking of enlisting, or considering his other non-collegiate options; no, he’s already enlisted. To say he’s blindsided by the whole thing is an understatement, not to mention the scar on his hand from the second degree burn after the fact.

A camping trip in June, right after high school graduation but a few months before Dave leaves for college in Canada. Which Killian was sure to give him endless grief about, only after he was sure David would bring him anything and everything flavored like maple syrup. There’s this spot in the woods they’d discovered when they were kids, it’s the absolute perfect camping spot. Far enough away that you can’t hear the highway, but close enough that you could walk there mildly intoxicated and not vomit.

There’s a creek nearby, some convenient tree-cover for those hotter days, and the fire pit they’d built years ago is still intact, so at this point in their lives, the trip itself could barely be considered “camping.” Regardless, it’s still a blast every time they go, packing up Dave’s dad’s truck with snacks, booze, sleeping bags, and Killian’s shitty telescope. Dave’s in the middle of throwing a log on the fire when he hears the news, hence the burn.

“So, I know I told you I hadn’t decided on a school yet,” he begins, taking a drag of his cigarette, “but really it’s because I decided to enlist in the Navy—”

Dave hisses at the flame licking up his thumb as Killian continues as if he hadn’t heard, “...with Liam.”

David likes Liam just fine, ok? The two of them had it real rough growing up, and it’s not like David can say he’d do anything different. He didn’t raise a younger brother when he was barely grown himself, working multiple jobs and paying off his father’s debts. He certainly didn’t raise a Killian Jones, all honor and stubbornness and a tendency towards making truly boneheaded mistakes. But still, while he understands Killian’s adoration of the guy, he’s also heard the backhanded compliments, the unrealistic expectations. The freaking hour long lectures about what Killian is supposed to be doing with his life. And he’s seen Killian afterwards, pretending that he’s not absolutely crushed at this summation of his character by the one person he loves most in the world.

“Oh,” David finally says, cradling his injured hand towards his chest, “Why?”

“I don’t know, seems a bit more exciting than sitting in a classroom, doesn’t it?”

“I… guess.”

It’s hard to know what to say when his hand feels like it’s still on fire, afraid to look down and see deformed, burned flesh. It’s doubly hard to know what to say when his heart has started to pound in a familiar, yet entirely unfamiliar way. It hurts in that same way it did when he’d seen Katherine at the dance with Jefferson in 8th grade. This hopeless, aching echo inside of his chest. What the hell is that?

“Bloody hell, Dave. You want some ointment for that?”

And then there’s the hustle and bustle of Killian’s movements around the fire, searching around for bandages and water and more alcohol, only there’s a buzzing in Dave’s ear that just keeps getting louder with every passing moment.

“You’re leaving?” he asks as Killian kneels in front of him, gingerly wrapping gauze around his hand. He pauses about halfway through and sighs, his eyes never straying from his task.

“Yeah, mate. In a few weeks.”

They don’t talk for a bit after that, their silence made louder in the wake of the crackling fire and chirping insects. His hand still kills, but he figures it must be the adrenaline—the way Killian’s eyes shine just a bit bluer in the glow of the dying fire, how his breath sounds steady and safe in his ear. The feeling of his rough fingertips every time they pass over a piece of unburned flesh, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

It’s the next morning, on their drive back home that he considers just how long he’d let their hands linger together in the quiet of Killian’s revelation. How maybe it stopped being about his totally avoidable injury and more about the fact of their impending separation.

“We’ll go for a jump off the bridge before you leave, right?” he asks in front of Killian’s house, trying for a smile and failing.

“Only of course,” he’d answered winningly, his features betraying not even a hint of distress. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He doesn’t pick him up from the airport because the ambience of the airport is just asking for trouble. It’s a veritable melting pot of emotion. Whatever anyone’s feeling inside the airport at any given moment, chances are they’re feeling it at the absolute most that anyone could feel anything. No one is simply “happy” to see their loved one, rather, they’re overjoyed. You’re not “tired,” no, you’re fucking exhausted. He’s worried that, were he to pick Killian up from the airport, he’d do something ridiculous like run towards him in baggage claim and tackle him to the ground—or worse, make some bumbling confession of love. So, no, picking him up from the airport was definitely not an option.

He does have to show up at the welcome home party though, otherwise he’s just a dick.

“Dave!” Killian yells from somewhere in the crowd, his voice young and booming as he limps across the kitchen. “Was afraid you weren’t planning on showing, mate.”

“Of course not,” he answers, trying to avoid staring at his injured knee. Killian had already told him about the injury in a letter, something about an explosion below deck and being tossed into military grade hardware. No big deal. Sure.

“D’ya want a drink?”

The party is loud and hot and seems to go on forever. Killian and Liam’s house is filled with old friends from school, all of their faces blurring together with every new beer in his hand. Normally he’d be perfectly happy to catch up and reminisce, but on this night he plays the wallflower, awkwardly moving from conversation to conversation, trying to avoid the sound of Killian’s laugh and Killian’s voice and Killian’s hand on his shoulder every time he thinks he’s managed to escape.

He finally manages to stumble outside around 1 AM, his head only just starting to pound, and the notion of collapsing on top of his small, childhood bed is unlike any other feeling of relief he’s ever known in his life. He hears the “Oi!” at his back and tries very hard not to wince, turning to face Killian’s eager and slightly dejected grin.

“Where you off to?”

“Bed,” he answers sleepily, hoping to skip this conversation entirely, “gotta be up early in the morning.”

For one blissful moment, Killian looks contemplative, his hand coming up to artfully scratch at the almost-beard on his face. It had been too much to hope that he’d be able to leave with his dignity still intact, his secrets and bad poetry locked ever so carefully away. Far, far too much.

“How about a quick walk, then?” Killian asks quietly, suddenly appearing far more sober than David had thought. “For old time’s sake?”

They wind up at the old bridge of all places, a full moon shining dramatically over the surface of the still lake. It’s early fall, so it’s not bitterly cold yet, but pre-dawn hours in Maine can get pretty brisk, and David’s thankful for the thickness of the flannel around his shoulders. Killian’s outfit is far more impractical, which is just par for the course, really. Leather jacket zipped open, button-down shirt as equally revealing as the jacket that should do little in the way of warmth, but he seems to be faring just fine. Must be all those nights on the open ocean; far, far away from here.

“Do you recall the first time we jumped from here?” he asks in a whisper, his forearms leaning heavily against the rail.

“Yeah,” David replies, easily, as if he hadn’t obsessed over it for months. “Yeah, I remember.”

Killian pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket, and David makes a note of the slight shake in his hand as he lights it.

“So, you’re done now, right?” he asks hesitantly, breathing in the smoke and the cool crispness of the night air around them, the worn leather of Killian’s jacket. “You’re sticking around?”

“I don’t know,” smiling, crushing the butt of it against the railing and turning to stare up at the stars. “I was thinking of visiting Canada for a bit. Getting a look at the sights.”

This is it, David thinks, tracing the shape of Killian’s face in the moonlight, trying to ignore the new scar on his cheek, this is one of those things. Those memories, the ones you’re lucky enough to remember? It’s happening, right now, and he’s trying to be in the moment and appreciate it for what it is, only he’s having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that this could very well be one of those fleeting things—one of those inconsequential moments he won’t need to remember in 30 or 40 years.

That’s when he feels the warmth of Killian’s hand around his fingers, their roughness almost exactly as he can recall it in his memories of that night. It’s almost as if he can feel every line in his skin, every new layer of grief and hardship and happiness and it’s curving so wonderfully against the softness of his own.

“You are thinking far too loudly.”

Killian’s voice his hovering somewhere near the shell of his ear, soft and husky and full of delicious, heated breath that smells of tobacco and rum. The tip of his nose is somewhere around there too, perhaps resting closer to his earlobe, maybe at the corner of his jaw, but then it’s the brief wetness of his lips, the tip of his tongue.

“Killian—”

You know a kiss by the way it urges you to forget yourself. You can guess at its merit by how little you concern yourself with what might come after, or even what might have come before. The only other thing he can feel in that moment, aside from Killian’s lips against his own, is the feeling of his hand on the back of his head, his fingers tugging on his hair. He’d make a joke about trying to get his attention, only it’s pretty well in hand at the moment.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” Killian breathes the words into his mouth, his fingers loosening their grip in order to run down the length of his neck. “All I could think about.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs, a strange shyness overtaking his countenance, “since I ever started wanting to kiss anybody.”

“I wish you’d told me sooner, could’ve saved the both of us a lot of trouble.”

“I know,” he answers, pulling away to look him in the eye. There’s a contentment there, something David had rarely seen in all the years they’d known one another, and he can only hope that it’s reflected back in his own; this feeling like maybe they were supposed to end up here all along.

Their fingers weave together and David can hear a dog bark, a car revving it’s engine, the water rippling beneath them with the breeze. It’s not totally unlike any other time they’d been here together, waiting for the jump, that feeling of weightlessness carrying them through one moment to the next. And but for the moon shining overhead the moment is the same, the two of them, side-by-side, falling through the air.

[ashercvans-blog]

moody music - asher & aiden

Basically: Asher gets music lessons from his ex Aiden, but plot twist, he didn’t know he’d be getting lessons from Aiden and they don’t actually go over the lesson.  Warnings: None. ** Occurs before the big Brad and Asher argument.

Asher knew how to play the piano and the trumpet, but he's always wanted to try his hand at guitar. It seemed like everyone and their mother's stripper knew how to play, and he figured he might as well try his hand at it. Besides, Brad was mad at him still, Phoebe was at school, and he had a day off; might as well do it now, was his reasoning. So, because Asher's lazy, Roger Kipton searched for music teachers to send to his son. He had texted Asher a few days ago that he found someone and they'd be over today, so Asher had spent his afternoon tidying up his house, hiding stray pairs of boxers and cleaning the sink, putting Phoebe's toys away and making sure the cat's litter box was clear. First impressions are important, y'know? Asher decided to make cookies, too, for his teacher, because why not. He forgot momentarily that he sucked at cooking, and it was when he was pulling a smoking tray of black cookies out of his oven when the doorbell rang. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, okay," he swore to himself, throwing the tray away and waving a hand in the air to fan away the clouds of smoke. "Coming!" He shouted at the door. "I tried baking and it didn't work so please ignore the s-" His sentence stopped as soon as he opened the door and saw Aiden standing on the other side. If Aiden were to squint, he'd be able to see Asher's soul leaving his body and his palm instantly starting to sweat. What was he doing here? "Um." 

Aiden felt like he should've known what he was getting himself into, except he'd been so busy that thinking about anything more than once until the moment it was about to happen just usually didn't happen. When Roger Kipton of all people had asked him for guitar lessons, he should've put the pieces together; that Asher had wanted to learn guitar but Aiden had never gotten around to teaching him, that Asher's dad probably hadn't moved since the last time he'd gone to Asher's house, and that Asher would probably always be under his dad's wing. It all clicked as he knocked on the door, and then wished he would've realized before he'd knocked so he could just walk away - text Asher's dad and tell him he randomly decided to move again or that he was being arrested so he'd never have to hear from him again. Upon first look Asher looked... downright tired, and flustered. The house smelled like burnt cookies, which wasn't surprising because Aiden had always had to pry a spatula out of Asher's hand. He pushed the thought away immediately. "Uh..." He wasn't sure if both of them not knowing how to react was better or worse. "... Uh..." Still speechless, he held up his guitar case, as if it held an explanation (it sort of did). "You know, uh-." His words were forced and aborted. "This doesn't have to happen, I can just..." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, worrying at his bottom lip. 

"Why're y-" Asher was frowning, eyes watering slightly from the smoke. And then Aiden lifted his guitar case, and while it took Asher a few seconds to piece it together, the moment it happened felt like a train immediately crashed into him. "Holy shit, are you m– no, there's no way my dad would hire you to– what the hell... Um. Okay." Asher pushed a hand through his hair, head canted up to the ceiling as he took a deep breath before looking at Aiden (who was still a few inches taller than Asher to the point that he had to look up at him). "Okay. So. It's been how many years since we've last spoken? Five? Six? Whatever. It's been a fuck long amount of time but we are, like, adults now. Mature adults who can handle this. There is no reason why we can't handle this." It'd be more convincing and maybe even inspiring if Asher's voice wasn't hesitant the entire time. This was his first relationship ever standing across from him. His first love, the second person to ever have sex with him and then the only person to do so for over a year; Aiden was a lot to Asher and always would be. So this was weird, okay? He's justified in rambling. "Come in, I guess." He held the door open, adding, "sorry for the smoke. I wanted to be a good student, or whatever, and make food, but I c– I don't know why I'm explaining myself, you know I can't cook. Point is, I tried." He shrugged, heading past the kitchen and living room and down a few hallways until he got to a spare room with nothing but a piano tucked into a corner and his trumpet case. "We can practice here." 

Aiden's eyebrows went up as he listened to Asher, even though he seemed to be convincing himself more than Aiden at this point. There were a lot of residual feelings that Aiden didn't particularly want to deal with, but him and Asher had gotten along fine until Bryan had barged into the picture and Aiden didn't see a need to be mad at Asher. He'd made a choice, and it'd taken Aiden a while to accept that choice, but the point still remained. Still, he didn't want to be around Asher if it was going to make him uncomfortable. "Hmm, so does that mean you're a teacher's pet?" As he followed Asher inside, shaking his head as he went over to the windows to crack them open so that the smoke would disperse. He glanced around the room Asher led him into, humming as he set his guitar case down, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders. "So, good news is you already know how to read music. Bad news is, you already know how to read music, which means you'll probably be impatient with yourself." 

Asher shrugged, leaving the room to grab two chairs for them. He answered from the other room, "I don't think baking cookies makes me a teacher's pet. Not now, at least. But if I was younger and you happened to be my teacher then, too, then yeah, I'd probably pull out all the stops to impress you." He reappeared with two chairs, both half his size, ungracefully setting them down onto the floor. Asher snorted at what Aiden said, waving him off with his hand. "C'mon, Crenshaw. It's not like playing the guitar is going to be hard or anything. You just hold the thingy and – pull the stringies. Or is it called plucking? Strumming? Whatever. You just touch the little string things and hold the other string things and it works and sounds pretty." Asher had mastered the piano when he was three and the trumpet when he was seven (both facts he had told Aiden before when they were dating – Asher had honestly told him everything about him, from his favorite color when he was eleven to the day's he visited his mom's grave) it was safe to say he was a bit cocky about his musical abilities. 

Aiden hummed, but didn't say he disagreed. Asher would definitely be in more of a tizzy if he weren't talking to Aiden. "Plucking and strumming are different, but both of those, yeah." He smiled in spite of himself; leave it to Asher to overestimate himself. Then again, he wasn't tooting his own horn for nothing. "Alright." He took a seat, cracking open his guitar case and pulling it from the depths, setting it in his lap. "Basic guitar anatomy-" he jumped right in because he had nothing else he wanted to ask Asher about, "body, neck, head, frets, strings, base board." He tapped each part of his guitar as he spoke. "Mostly you work with the frets and strings, sometimes body comes into play. Really only mention the base board because when a string breaks you take the screws out of the base board to change them out. Doesn't happen often, unless you don't know how to tune it and pull the strings too tight." He shifted the guitar in his grip and held it out to Asher. 

Asher was smart. He knew it, people who knew him knew it. He was a chemistry major who made all the big, fancy American universities think he was attending on their full ride international scholarships, only to end up attending Austen's because of Aiden and a baby mama. But now, sitting there, and listening to all this musical stuff had his brain drawing a blank. Music was not like quarks. He blinked, slowly accepting the guitar. And now he felt dumb in front of Aiden, which was embarrassing, and shit, now he was turning red. "Fuck my father, honestly," he muttered more to himself than anything. "Oh, um, by the way," he looked up from the guitar, "can these lessons, like... Stay between us? I know that sounds so sketchy and with that whole Bryan Brad thing I'm sure you've heard about, it doesn't do much to boost my character, but. Brad knows you're my ex and I didn't know my ex would be giving me guitar lessons – which, as stated before, doesn't make me, like, uncomfortable or anything – but you are and I know he's gonna' get, like, super insecure and pissy about the whole thing and I don't want him to have it out for you like he does for Bryan, so. Not that you can't defend yourself or anything. But, like. I mean, doesn't this whole thing remind you of, like, some soap opera type shit? Past lovers reconnect without the spouse knowing?" Asher sighed, tacking on a bit softer, "if this whole thing with me and the shit I always find myself into makes you uncomfortable, or you want out, don't feel bad in leaving. I'll be – it'll be fine." 'Cause truth is, Asher was happy to see Aiden. And yes, he's married, he knows, but Aiden was his first love, okay? And he hasn't seen him in years, even though they left off on an awful foot. Is it so bad that he's simply happy to see him? 

Aiden blinked owlishly, raising an eyebrow as Asher began to ramble. He definitely had heard about the drama going on with Bryan - if Bryan was in the picture there usually was some drama to be had. Aiden didn't want to make things difficult in Asher's marriage. The only thing he'd ever wanted was for Asher to be happy, but hearing him ramble he wasn't sure if that was the case. He wasn't sure if he was mad or upset or what, but he was definitely feeling something. Not at Asher, but Asher's situation. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable. But I don't want to get between you and Brad's relationship, either." Considering the way things seemed to be going, he just might mess things up without even meaning to do so. "... I'll keep it between us if you want, but you really should talk to Brad about it. It'll probably make it worse if he finds out on his own." He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. "... It's up to you, Asher. I-..." His feelings weren't important here. Asher was married. He'd been married for a while. "What do you want? I'll pack up and leave right now if you want." 

"No, don't go," Asher immediately objected, clearing his throat soon after and looking back down at the guitar. "It's, y'know," he shrugged, "nice to see you again, is all. This might give us a chance to, like, I don't know, bond? I know last time we talked was rough, so. Maybe we need this, y'know? I can try baking cookies for you again." He looked up at Aiden again, giving him a small smile. "Brad... He might have an issue but don't worry, I'll take care of it if there is. No one's getting punched on my watch, not this time." He was not having another one of his relationships get hit in the face. Asher cleared his throat once more. "What about you? Do you have a special someone who might get a little weird upon finding out you're here with me?" Because last time Asher checked, which was years ago, Aiden was with Evan, and this whole thing was kind of sketchy, after all. 

Aiden chewed back a smile, looking away at the same time Asher did. "Yeah... I wasn't in a great place. I'm sorry about that." He was in a better place - or he tried to be. "Mm... maybe nix the cookies, unless you let me help you." He laughed, and then swallowed it. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was, if Brad was going to have a problem with him being here. It was Asher's and Brad's home. He scoffed a little, shaking his head and trying to find somewhere in the room to look. "No. Single as the day we met." Which was very. "Unless you count my dog, but you probably don't." He pulled out his phone to show Asher his screensaver of Lilo. "She just turned 6." 

Asher waved his hand in dismissal. "No need to apologize. You had your reasons and I should've been more understanding." Where would they be if Asher hadn't been so bitter about Aiden leaving him for Australia? Would Asher have a different last name? For the first time in years, Asher laughed along with Aiden, saying between giggles, "you can help, yeah, that'd be great, but we, and this house, for that matter, would probably be better off with me just handing you the ingredients and whatnot." Asher's smile died as he heard Aiden's answer. Oh. "Oh. I thought you and E- never mind," he quickly scrapped his sentence, because it was none of his business as of now; if Aiden wanted to delve more into the topic, then Asher would gladly listen. The smile returned when he saw Aiden's dog. "Holy shit. What the fuck. She's so cute. Hang on," Asher gently laid the guitar down and hopped off the chair, leaving for a few minutes and then returning with his (technically Brad's) small dog, Charlie, in one arm and his cat, Fuzz Lightyear. "These are my non-human babies. Say hi to Aiden," he cooed, letting them down and watching Charlie immediately scamper to Aiden. "I love how productive this guitar lesson is going," Asher chuckled, sitting back in his chair. But maybe that was a good thing, that they're enjoying each other's company so much that the original purpose for being together has been pushed aside. It's leaps and bounds from where they left off. 

Aiden shook his head. "No. I still need to apologize, trust me." He waved his hand back, huffing out a sigh. "Yeah, that might be best. Don't want to burn the house down or something." With how strong the smell of smoke was in the house Brad would probably thank Aiden later - maybe. It wasn't surprising to him that Asher immediately steered the topic away from Evan, but he shook his head hastily. "No, it's okay. It wasn't dramatic or anything. We just worked better as friends." Himself and Evan had stilled talked for a while, but just didn't have much in common and Aiden did almost nothing so it was hard to talk. And once Evan had moved they couldn't even just sit in companionable silence together. "He's married now! To Andrea, which-..." He shut his eyes, shook his head, then moved on himself. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, jaw dropping open as Asher brought the animals into the room, scooting off the chair to the floor as the dog wiggled over to him. Why he'd initially come was completely forgotten. "Oh, hello! Hi there, buddy!" He let the dog sniff at him and then continued to pet it, minding the cat as it approached him more hesitantly. Then he began to pet the cat too, baby-talking each of them and eventually just lying on the floor as he doted over them. "Oh, shit. Yeah." He cleared his throat, but didn't get up from the floor. 

Asher smiled softly at Aiden's apparent rage at whoever Andrea was, commenting, "I take it that she's not your favorite person." He sat next to Aiden on the floor, not knowing whether to pat his legs like ol' pals might do as he said, "it's okay. You're an amazing, talented, incredible person, one of my favorite people ever despite everything, and it's his loss if he doesn't get to have you." Asher watched, a mix of fond and proud-parent like, as his pets lost their shit over Aiden. He'd take a picture if he didn't think Aiden probably wouldn't like that. "Are you free next week? We can probably do an actual lesson then. And maybe, in the mean time, your dog and my dog can meet and be best pet pals? I dunno', seems like a cute idea to me, at least, and it means we get to spend some more time with each other, too." 

Aiden shook his head. "No. She's just-..." Dumb? Annoying? Anything Aiden had to say wasn't nice, so he didn't really want to say it, especially since he was still cool with Evan. "I think he deserves better, that's all." It was easy to think but hard to explain. He blushed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's fine, peach. Really," he insisted, and then seemed to realize what he said and blushed harder, backtracking; "Ash. Asher. Uh-." Fuck. There went that, he guessed. "Yeah, I'm free. Well... Technically not, since this is supposed to be lesson time, but you know. Yeah." He glanced up at the forgotten guitar, but not for long because the ones were begging for his attention the moment he took his eyes off of them. "I think Lilo would like some friends. I haven't been to the dog park in a while." He felt kind of guilty about it, but he'd been locked up in his flat writing music and aside from just going on simple walks with Lilo and teaching he didn't get out much. 

Asher could only nod to show his support. And then peach came up and, well. It certainly was a surprise, hearing that nickname, and for most people it'd make them feel awkward, but no, Asher started laughing because, "holy shit, I can't believe you called me peach back then 'cause of my ass. That's amazing, Aidennn." Peach was what Aiden called him, and Asher used to always call him by his first name, but would drag out the 'den' and use a sing-song voice. It was effective for when he wanted affection. He scrunched his nose up gleefully at seeing Aiden red, glad he officially now wasn't the only one who blushed horribly in the half hour they were together. "Sounds good. Should we meet here again? Or, y'know, someplace else?" Asher was kind of hoping they'd pick a different location; Brad's work schedule shifted constantly, and Asher never wanted to reach the day where his husband came home to Asher with yet another ex. "They'll have a little doggy date," Asher smiled, reaching over to scratch behind Charlie's ear. "We'll be like proud parents, watching our children and making sure they don't get too touchy. That's what my dad would always do when you came over to ours." 

Aiden hardly resisted the urge to reach over and nudge Asher in retaliation. He shrugged his shoulders up, puffing his cheeks out. "I put you in as the peach emoji in my phone and it just stuck," he explained. It was true enough; the first time he'd actually met Asher and had started dealing to him he hadn't remembered his name, so he'd put him as the peach emoji so he'd remember Asher was the cute guy with the nice butt. He wasn't sure what it was in Asher's voice that made it sound like he was hopeful they'd meet somewhere else. He decided to oblige. "We can do it at my place if you want." He'd have to clean, and organize his stuff so that Asher wouldn't know that he lived like the human embodiment of a trash can - Chinese take out and sheet music and all. "Your dad used to watch me like a hawk. As if I were going to snatch you up and get you into drugs." He winked. 

"Cute," Asher hummed. "You were always 'boyfriend', but in all caps and, like, five hearts. It's embarrassing, thinking back at it now." Aiden was his first, though, so. Asher didn't really know, back then, all the dating ethics and what was cringe-worthy. But he was seventeen, he's practically expected to be weird at that age. "Can you believe that if Daniel had never sent me to get weed from you, we'd probably never have met? Crazy shit, innit?" They would've never met, because Asher and Aiden come from wildly different backgrounds, and Asher would probably have just gone to a different school. It was mind boggling to think about. "Do you still live in your apartment?" While Aiden's apartment was a bit old and in a sketchy neighborhood, it was home to Asher. He spent so many nights there with Aiden, finishing homework together and talking about the future and watching TV and baking food together and then getting baked and having sex. If Aiden still lived in the apartment, it'd be a huge throwback for Asher, walking through the front door again. He'd feel seventeen all over again. "He really did," Asher smiled, lying on his back as he reminisced, "remember when he gave you, like, a two hour speech just on how he expected you to treat me?" Jeez, Roger Kipton was so overbearing on the both of them. He required Aiden's number and texted the both of them constantly whenever they were out with each other, and kept an eye on them in the nearby room whenever they'd chill in Asher's living room or bedroom. Imagine his shock when he found out they weren't using protection. "But he really did love you, y'know. Once we hit one year he honestly considered you part of the family." That is, until they broke up in a heart shattering way. But no need to bring that up. "Loved you enough to probably not kill you as fast if he were to find out you were a dealer." 

Aiden grinned, shaking his head. "No, it's not embarrassing. I think it's cute." He'd been colossally lucky to be with Asher; he doesn't think anyone he's ever met has loved him that much - not in the way Asher loved him, at least. And he'd gone and fucked it all up. He think he'll always be mad at himself about it, but you couldn't cry over spilled milk. He had to live with even the bad choices he made. "Yeah. You came strolling into my shit neighborhood with your expensive shoes. I thought you were going to get your ass kicked for sure." Not that anyone would ever mess with Asher if he was talking to Aiden - he'd lived in that neighborhood for a while and people had learned not to mess with him very quickly. It mostly had to do with his other ex but... he wasn't eager to think about it. "No, I've moved since then. Cleaned up my act, got a real job and a nice place. It has a balcony and everything. And a tub." Those were things Aiden hadn't been afforded growing up, and things he couldn't afford when he'd first gotten his own place with said other ex. "I can send you my new address, though," he nodded. "Mm, I like your dad, though. He really cares about you." It had come out of left-field for Aiden, who grew up pretty invisible except to run to the corner store to get booze. Hearing that Mr. Kipton had thought of him as family tore at Aiden's heartstrings in a way he wasn't prepared for. "Y-yeah..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat as he laid down too, curling up and feeling his heavy heart lighten a little as the cat immediately sat on his face. "God... like, I know I fucked up. But sometimes the weight just resettles on me." He took a deep breath. "You guys were my family, too. I'm so dumb..." He hugged the cat to his chest, burying his face in his fur as he tried to recover. 

"You think everything is cute," Asher countered with a smile, watching as Charlie sniffed at Aiden's feet. He closed his eyes as Aiden talked about their first encounter, remember the whole situation perfectly. He'd been scared shitless, being in a sketchy neighborhood like Aiden's, about to ask some guy he didn't know for substance he had never been exposed to before, only to meet one of the most handsome men he'd ever come across. "We were such opposites yet worked so well," Asher mused, feeling warm and golden and soft inside. It was nice, being away from all the Austen's drama to be right here, talking about the times where he was indescribably happy. Asher's eyes snapped open, though, when he heard that Aiden moved, and he sat up, looking down at him. "You have a tub now?" He gasped, eyes bright because "holy shit, look at you, living all luxuriously! A tub, wow. I'm so proud of you." And it was all genuine; countless times he had offered to buy Aiden a three-story house, anything to get him out of the apartment, so hearing now that he's in a better place honestly made Asher's day. The happiness died down as the mood was brought to a somber, tense tone. Asher frowned, reaching over to squeeze Aiden's hand softly in reassurance. "You're still family," he told him softly, earnestly. "Anytime you need anything, you can come to me or my dad and we'll take care of you, honest. You were my first, Aiden. My first relationship and my first love. Those never leave a person. You'll always have a special place in my heart 'cause of that. My dad will always view you differently than he will Brad because of that. You're always welcome to come home to the Kiptons." 

Aiden pouted, but Asher was probably right. At least a little bit. Asher had always read him really easily, even when Aiden thought he had his walls up. Maybe that's just because Aiden had a bad poker face or something. "Yeah, I remember when you texted me. I was so confused I thought you were high already." He snorted, propped his head up on his hand. Everything with Asher had always been easy - being with him, loving him.. Aiden had to swallow his thoughts real quick. A feeling he didn't particularly want to feel started to bubble in his chest as Asher took his hand, but he squeezed it back anyways, even though he was sure that he'd probably smack himself for it later. "Yeah, a tub," is all he managed, voice still kind of wobbly and quiet. Listening to Asher talk wasn't really helping, but maybe he needed to hear it. With Jaxson always moving around because of her job Aiden had almost no constant in his life but his dog. And he liked it that way sometimes, but he really did need someone else in the picture. "Oh? How does your dad view Brad then?" He snickered slightly, peeking up from his where his face was still buried in cat fur. "Sorry, I'm grateful, really. I just don't feel like crying right now," he laughed weakly. 

"Holy shit, remember the first time I got high?" What a mess. Asher had been fumbling, trying to copy every move Aiden made and not burn himself or drop anything, and within moments, he was high and red-eyed and giggling to Aiden's neck about nothing. Needless to say, Asher loved bragging to his friends about his college boyfriend who was a drug dealer. Asher shrugged, leaning back down on his back. "He views him as a dad would view his son-in-law but, I meant, like– he's not my first, y'know? You are. It goes back to what I was saying, about that whole you never forget your first thing. So if you two were in a room he'd see Brad and view him as my husband, but see you and view you as my first everything, as the standard he set for Bryan and Brad. If that makes sense? I dunno', the smoke from the cookies did something to my brain, I'm sure." Asher smiled softly at Aiden's apology, saying, "it's fine, cry in Fuzz Lightyear's fur if you need to. He's here for you too, y'know." And then, "do you want to bake the cookies now? Cookies make everyone feel better, and I don't like seeing you sad." 

Aiden snickered. "Yeah. You were a mess. I would've helped you if you'd said something." He shook his head, smiling fondly. He also wouldn't have let Asher smoke so much, but it had been too late when he realized all of that. "I'd just assumed you'd smoked before since you knew Daniel." It wasn't an off-base assumption, really. He also remembered one time coming to get Asher from school so they could get pizza and remembered feeling like a huge creep around a bunch of secondary school kids, nineteen going on twenty years old and towering over almost everyone in all his six foot one inch glory. He'd been questioning his choices as a person, really, until Asher came out to meet him. "Mmhmm..." It was weird to hear that term attached to someone concerning Asher - son-in-law - and it felt heavy. So was the fact that Brad was Asher's husband. That was weird, too. He'd dated Asher for a whole year before he'd left, and hadn't thought twice about marrying him. He was too engrossed in other things - too used to people leaving, and too used to leaving himself. They were young, too. Marriage had always felt like something for future him to deal with. But he'd loved Asher. He still did, but it was inappropriate to say it. And unfair. So he said nothing. "Must've set the bar pretty low." He wasn't sure if he was being down on himself or down on Bryan and Brad. Well, maybe not Brad. Aside from being kind of jealous Aiden had nothing against him, even if Brad did have an attitude towards him when they'd first met. "Yeah. Maybe we should just make cookies," he agreed. 

Asher knocked the side of his foot against Aiden's. "Nah. I wanted to impress you." Asher always felt like he had to, because after all, he was a last year who somehow managed to get into a relationship with a college boy; he had nightmares about the day Aiden might realize Asher was just a nerd. Asher scoffed, shaking his head. "Set the bar low?" He repeated, amused. "Aiden, love, I came home after every date and talked to my dad for hours about how much fun I had and about how in love with you I was and how I'd been practicing writing 'Asher Crenshaw'. You gave Bryan and Brad a pretty high standard to match. Don't underestimate yourself, yeah? You're incredible." Sure, Aiden's leaving to Australia was the main cause for their split, but still, he had been a fantastic boyfriend. Asher stood up, brushed off animal fur from the back of his jeans and held his hand out for Aiden to take. "C'mon," he grinned, "let's bake cookies and enjoy each other's company." 

Aiden hummed, smiling slightly and bumping Asher's foot back. "Well, you just seemed silly, instead." It was true. Asher never had to impress Aiden, but it was kind of nice that he'd wanted to. No one had ever gone out of their way for him before at that point. He flushed, burying his face into his arm in embarrassment. "Well, I appreciate you not telling your dad how baked I got you during some of those dates, peach. He would've murdered me for sure." Aiden did really try with Asher; he wanted to do things right that time. Granted, he'd still messed up. But while it had lasted... god. He sighed, detaching himself from the cat and reaching for Asher's hands, pulling himself to his feet. "Okay. Sounds good."

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 19th August 2018

This is probably just gonna be a bit of a slap-dash episode since I just finished my list of the best and worst hit songs of 1994 and I’m kinda drained, but we’ll still have to get this out so here it is. REVIEWING THE CHARTS for the week of 19th August, 2018.

Top 10

First of all, we have a new #1... but it’s not exactly new at all, since it has been #1 for a few weeks before, it’s just returned to the top spot after it usurped Drake. I’m not mad at all that this is our new #1 – I may not be fond of it, but it’s better than Drake. George Ezra’s “Shotgun” is up one spot to #1.

Speak of the devil; here’s Drake with “In My Feelings” featuring City Girls, down a space to number-two. I hope it stays there, or better yet, decreases even more, although it still has the stronghold over “Shotgun” in streaming.

Not moving from last week at number-three is “No Brainer” by DJ Khaled featuring Justin Bieber, Chance the Rapper and Quavo.

Surprisingly, “Eastside” by benny blanco, Khalid and Halsey has zoomed past competition as it’s increased eight spaces to number-four.

“Rise” by Jonas Blue featuring Jack & Jack has since gone down a single space since the success of “Eastside”, leading it down to number-five.

At number-six, we have a two-space increase for Loud Luxury and brando’s “Body”, which I’m glad is increasing as much as it is, even if it’s just for the fact that they’re both relatively unknown artists.

Oh, yeah, at number-seven, we have “Youngblood” by 5 Seconds of Summer down two spaces.

Unfortunately,”Jackie Chan” by Tiesto and Dzeko featuring Preme and Post Malone has jumped two spaces down to number-eight.

Meanwhile at number-nine, the identical hit has effected “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B, which is ALSO down two spaces.

Thankfully, NOT down two spaces, is “Taste” by Tyga featuring Offset. Not sure how I feel about a pedophile featuring a homophobe having a song (that I personally like) in the top 10 of both the US and UK, but that’s a whole thinkpiece I won’t be writing.

Climbers

Unsurprisingly, there are a few big gains but otherwise nothing of note here. In terms of smaller six-space gains, we (sadly) have “Nevermind” by Dennis Lloyd up to #19 and “Ocean” by Martin Garrix and Khalid up to #25, but we also have an inexplicably massive gain for “079ME” by B Young, up 11 spots to #28. Please don’t let this become a top 20 hit, just for the sake of preventing humanity and society crumbling under your hands. Oh, yeah, and pathetic human being Nicki Minaj had her album Queen release, so naturally “Bed” featuring Ariana Grande (who will also have some gains due to HER album next week) increased up 15 spaces to #23.

Fallers

Naturally, we have two losses for Travis Scott after ASTROWORLD had three tracks debut on the chart last week. “SICKO MODE” featuring Drake and Swae Lee is down six spaces to #15, while “STARGAZING” is, tragically, down 12 to #27. However, there’s only one other loss, and it is just an absolute collapse for “I Like It” by Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin, down 17 spaces to #31. It’ll undoubtedly be out next week, unless people revenge-stream Cardi because of the nonsense Nicki’s been spouting for the past two weeks, I don’t know. That probably won’t happen but it’d be kind of funny to see Nicki not get the #1 album after how desperate she was, and then have her “rival” succeed, though pitting female rappers against each other is borderline sexist and does not help normalise females in a more-often-than-not male-dominated genre, which is something Nicki could actually learn from... Huh. Anyway, this isn’t a Nicki Minaj roast, she has a new entry so I think I’ll rant about her there.

Dropouts

Well, we have a few utterly demolished tracks that dropped out this week, like “Butterflies” by AJ Tracey and Not3s now out from #22, “Oh My” by Dappy featuring Ay Em struggling as it’s been kicked out from #27, and “CAROUSEL” by Travis Scott featuring Frank Ocean being pushed out from #29, but that’s it, and there’s no Returning Entries either, so welcome back to:

The Ed Sheeran Update!

“Perfect” is down only a single space to #61, and “Shape of You” is up a single space to #76, somehow. Can these just go away, please?

Now to the part all three of you were waiting for...

NEW ARRIVALS

#40 – “When I Kissed the Teacher” – Lily James, Jessica Keenan Wynn, Alexa Davies and Celia Imrie

You probably shouldn’t be doing that.

Anyways, this is an ABBA cover, straight out of the hit musical Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, which I actually checked out because, my, my, how could I resist it? Well, it’s okay, not particularly my thing, but definitely watchable, however I am surprised that it took this long for a song to get into the top 40. Let me preface this by saying I strongly dislike the ABBA version, mostly because of the... interesting vocals and how everything feels so manufactured and pretty sickeningly sweet, which is incredibly unfitting for the subject matter. I don’t like the song at all, but I’d recommend “Scandalous Scholastics” by Gym Class Heroes for a better take on a student-teacher affair. It’s a pretty awful track but at least it’s a bit groovier and has some darker swagger, as well as an eerie yet catchy chorus, which is actually pretty creepy in some way, especially that it’s implied that 1.) they had sex, 2.) Travie McCoy, the singer, is still in school. He gets into some detail and the charismatic “so sexy!” ad-lib I know Travie for... yeah, well, this is the only time it should not be there, in fact, do NOT check out that song, what am I talking about? It’s horrible.

This cover, though, is somehow even worse. I don’t know who’s singing at what points because, honestly, who cares? Nevertheless, the instrumentation is cookie-cutter yet still over-processed so that it drowns out the singers, who try to belt and struggle, with some not-at-all subtle multi-tracking from seemingly better singers that isn’t helpful at all. I do like that they have more charisma for the most part, making the admittedly funny geometry line sound so much better, and I do appreciate the fact that there are female singers talking about a female teacher – now, that’s cool – although it doesn’t really make much sense in the context of the film, at all, because I’m pretty sure they all have male love interests. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not sure if your teacher is the best to experiment with, Lily.

#37 – “Don’t Leave Me Alone” – David Guetta featuring Anne-Marie

David Guetta, okay, you’re cool, you’re fine, I like you. Anne-Marie, nope, go away, please. I liked her in “FRIENDS”, initially, but, man, she can definitely become pretty insufferable. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good singer, but the attitude and forced faux-Jamaican inflections rub me the wrong way. You know what else rubs me the wrong way? How the beginning of the song sounds like stock Windows-activating sound effects. It sounds like it’s a buffering loading screen for God’s sake. Regardless, Anne-Marie sounds okay and I do like the subtle touch of the guitars and especially the piano chords under Anne-Marie and I believe Ed Sheeran harmonising in the pre-chorus, right before a pretty cool Vocaloid drop. I have really grown to love these things, as you can probably tell from my “Solo” review, and this was am especially great one, because the autotune is turned up to insane levels and the vocals sound like they’re stretched and manipulated over the hard-hitting but pleasant synth tones. The combination of the drop and some of the vocal chops with the pre-chorus melody is just fantastic. I can look past the flat production in the verses if that chorus is as incredible as it is. Damn, that surprised me. David Guetta, you win again, and I’m excited for your upcoming album.

#36 – “Barbie Dreams” – Nicki Minaj

Okay, let’s get this over with. This track caused a lot of buzz because it’s basically a tribute to a Notorious B.I.G. song full of light-hearted disses torwards people who she is friends with, and you know, I like a bit of pointless rap beef and some disses can be pretty fire even if they are completely uncalled for. I mean, I prefer hard-hitting, absolutely awful personal disses like when Pusha T slaughtered Drake and held his decapitated head over a building in “The Story of Adidon”, but I like a bit of light-hearted no-harassment-intended jabs so, let’s see what she’s got.

Well, first of all, I love the slick beat and her flow is pretty nice too. Too bad it’s all taken from “Just Playing (Dreams)” by Biggie. This is a remix then? Okay, well, you didn’t preface it as such, but that’s fine, using someone else’s beat isn’t bad as long as you spit some nice bars over it. So, what’s the “Queen of Rap” got for us? Well, she starts with some complements... yep, she just says she wants a man to settle down and have some kids, and either them or the man will look like Lil Wayne or Dave East, but they’re already fathers, so I’m assuming she wants a man who is as good of a dad as Wayne and Dave are to their kids. That’s a very nice thing to say.

Man, I ain’t got no type like Jxmmi and Swae Lee

Okay, but the song you’re referencing by Rae Sremmurd, “No Type”, makes it pretty clear that they’re joking when they say they don’t have a type, given by how they immediately contradict that statement?

I ain’t got no type / Bad b****es is the only thing that I like – Swae Lee, “No Type”

Oh, they’ve actually tried to argue that “bad b****es” are NOT a type? Okay, well, then, secondly: That’s not a diss, that’s just mentioning them in passing.

Then she gets into some admittedly funny (and probably true) disses to 50 Cent, making some nice wordplay with other members of G-Unit like Tony Yayo and Lloyd Banks. That’s all fine and dandy. Then she mentions Karreuche Tran... Tran... Tran...

Used to f*** with Young Thug, I ain’t addressin’ this s**t / C-caught him in my dressing room, stealing dresses and s**t

Okay, well, that’s insensitive and incredibly uncalled for. If the dude wants to reject typical gender norms, more power to him, but Thugger, you probably shouldn’t be stealing her dresses, man, and I’m pretty sure this is related to that, and is no way meant to be offensive or transphobic.

They switchin’ like sissies now – Nicki Minaj, “Majesty”

On the same album? Uh, I mean, well, okay, but maybe that’s also misinterpreted...

First they love you, then they switch / Yeah,they switch like f****ts

Yeah, okay, 1.) I’m not uncensoring that word, you know what it is, and 2.) Yikes, Nicki! I know that was back in 2009 but these recent lines prove you haven’t changed, in fact, all of these recent antics prove you haven’t changed, at all! You collaborate with a pedophile, then you try and play the feminist angle – after collaborating with an absolute scumbag who respects women as much as a tampon made out of bricks – to explain why your album didn’t get to #1, although it still sold pretty well, even though you don’t label yourself as a feminist as you’ve stated before. In fact, this whole track is just to stir up controversy and attention, isn’t it? You wanted that #1 album so desperately that you added a song that’s not even by you to your album, then you put out a lot of trash merch, some of which was promoting 6ix9ine, all of which came with a copy of your album, made JAY-Z give you a discount code on TIDAL that literally gave the album away for free, however, due to a faulty system, made all albums on TIDAL free to download, probably causing serious financial issues in the future for Jay, leading to him having to release the rest of Prince’s discography onto Spotify (not necessarily a bad thing), and reported fake news when you were projected to sell 190,000, only to be proved to sell less when the final numbers were released, all for a #1 album, which you only wanted out of spite for Cardi being more successful than you, because, I don’t know, she’s not an absolutely trash human being who doesn’t know how to promote a damn album? I guess you could say the TIDAL issue wasn’t her fault, but, yes, it was, as if it wasn’t for her own desperate need for a #1, the code wouldn’t exist at all. At least that’s only one line, right? She doesn’t cross the line otherwise.

Shout-out Desiigner ‘cause he made it out of special ed

You called a man struggling to hold onto his crippling career which is still under the hands of Pusha T’s mismanagement, being forced to constantly promote himself because his label definitely isn’t, who’s probably in debt right now, and just desperately trying to pick up the pieces to still live while doing what he wants to do – music, trapped under a label that doesn’t let him succeed, who released a better and more consistent EP this year than any project you’ve ever put out, retarded because of the energy he puts into his songs, which you, missy, are severely lacking in, despite the fact that your mentor and person you want your husband to be like, Lil Wayne, was in the same dire situation for nearly a decade, and you and Drake have been carrying him and helping him still strive in the industry while he’s being trampled on and confined by the tyrant of a label owner Birdman? Yeah, nope, not having it, you’ve lost all my respect, Nicki. I don’t usually focus on lyrics as much as I did here but when they’re this ignorant and disgusting, I think I’ll stream Cardi instead, you petty, little child.

Conclusion

“Don’t Leave Me Alone” easily gives David Guetta and Anne-Marie the title of Best of the Week, as Nicki Minaj takes Worst of the Week for “Barbie Dreams”. Hopefully I’ll have calmed down by next time. See ya!

[vinceticious-mmd]

each prime, all muses

This one is long so I’ll just cut it off here!

2. What is/was your character’s relationship with their motherlike?

Mono- Monochrome’s mother passed away when she was about 6 fromillness, but the time she knew her she was very caring and compassionatetowards her.

Vivi- Vivi and her mom were not very close, but they did carefor eachother. Now I mean... if you wanna consider Luna as an adoptive mom forher it would make a lot of sense, but it’s really just a close mother-daughterfriendship.

Sol- He was Celeste’s favorite. They spent a lot of timetogether while Lu and Nimbus were off doing something else.

Nashira- Nashira’s parents kinda... abandoned them after he wasa year old. They were neglected frequently.

Sam- Did he even have parents? I guess you can say his creatorwas very nice to him. His creator really did care for him.

Chiller- She never remembered her mother. If she did sheprobably wouldn’t like her that much.

Luna- Definitely was close with Celeste, but it never comparedto her relationship with her father.

118- Did not have any parents, being a parasite. While it’screator tried taking care of it, the result usually created more harm than not.

 3.  What is/was your character’s relationship with theirfather like?

Mono- Was pretty close with her father, and spent as much timewith him as she could. He was working very frequently in the lab.

Vivi- Was not close with her father at all. He despised herbecause of her differences and avoided her. This left her mother to take careof her.

Sol- Was definitely close to Nimbus, playing sports with himfrequently. They would play many little games together.

Nashira- Same thing applied to #2

Sam- Same thing applied to #2

Chiller- Was very close with her father, and helped him work onthe core frequently since she was old enough.

Luna- She absolutely loved her father, and looked up to him as arole model. Lu was also his favorite child, being the most like him.

118- Same thing applied to #2

 5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’spockets?

Mono- probably something like a mini handheld notebook with atiny pencil. I’ve seen them before, and they’re pretty cool. She’d obviouslyhave some change she gets in her pockets too.

Vivi- usually she has nothing in her pockets and stores it in abookbag.

Sol- Usually he carries a small switchblade for emergencies,along with his wallet.

Nashira- Chocolate. It usually melts, so they eats it quickly.

Sam- Just a few small mechanical parts to keep his maintenancein check.

Chiller- A small locket she never wears with a picture of herwith her father and brothers.

Luna- A switchblade and probably a pen. She tends to drawdesigns on her hands a lot.

118- Probably any kind of small weapon that’ll fit in thepocket. Usually something like either a switchblade or a filled syringe.

 7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

Mono- Usually if she has nightmares, they’re either flashbacksto the moments before she was brought into the void, or themes about horriblethings that could(but probably won’t) happen in the future to her loved ones.Thankfully she rarely has those.

Vivi- She has vivid memories of the process of seeing Luna’sparasitic infection getting worse and worse, just watching her die and notbeing able to do anything about it. The dreams terrify her.

Sol- The same thing applies to him as it does Vivi, but he alsohas memories of when his parents were killed in front of him along with themoments before his own premature death.

Nashira- They don’t really have nightmares,but they never have asimilar recurring theme.

Sam- I mean, if he did, they would probably be about himselfgetting a virus and breaking down, not being able to help himself.

Chiller- She has frequent nightmares about how she’s lost herentire family. With no one to comfort her, these can become severe nightterrors.

Luna- There is no constant theme, but her dreams frequentlysurround the harm or death of loved ones, and a lot of times they’re about thembeing harmed by her own hands.

118- Not capable of producing dreams.

 11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’veever been?

Mono- The few moments before she was brought into the void.

Vivi- Her father beginning to abuse her mother for keeping herin the house.

Sol- When his parents were killed.

Nashira- A lot of the times they got into trouble, not having afamily to protect them.

Sam- When he lost his creator.

Chiller- Losing her father.

Luna- Can I just go ahead and say EVERYTHING? The worst thoughwas when Sci had the void infection and when her family was killed.

118- So far has shown no signs of fear for anything.

 13. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, inwhat way?

Mono- Is usually only bothered in huge amounts, if it’s a smallscratch she’s not bothered.

Vivi- No, it doesn’t bother normally bother her unless it’s herown.

Sol- Definitely becomes unsettled at the sight of blood, but itonly truly bothered if it’s his or his sister’s.

Nashira- They are definitely bothered by blood, sometimes evenpassing out at the sight of it.(Mun: Sounds a lot like my sister)

Sam- Can become unsettled for sure, but not as much bothered.

Chiller- It only really bothers her if it’s from her loved onesand In huge amounts.

Luna- Is typically numb to the sight of blood, but can becometerrified if it’s in very large amounts and belonged to loved ones or herself.

118- Loves the sight of blood, it doesn’t bother it at all.

 17. What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

Mono- Didn’t really have many toys as a child, but there was asmall doll that her and her father worked on together that she just adored.

Vivi- Didn’t have many toys herself. She usually just had asmall blanket and a plush toy. That was it.

Sol- He usually played a lot with any kind of ball. His favoritewas actually the dodgeball.

Nashira- Didn’t have any “regular toys,” he made his ownlittle toys from stick and rocks to keep himself entertained.

Sam- Didn’t have toys. Or was really ever a “child.” But hewas definitely intrigued by the equipment in the lab where he was created.

Chiller- She didn’t really play with toys often, she’d muchrather be with her younger sibling playing simple pretend games and be justfine.

Luna- Typically played catch with her brother a lot, but herpersonal favorite toy had to be a small set of blocks. She was very creativewith them and made some really cool things for someone of her age.

118- Didn’t have toys but was always interested in the equipmentaround it before it created bad intentions.

 19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Hasthis flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

Mono- Is very shy, but not as much reclusive. She tends toattempt making moves but gets very embarrassed.

Vivi- Has never been in a relationship(I mean she’s freaking10), but her flaw would likely be clinginess.

Sol- He has a tendency to always be sort of suspicious of theother person, hoping the never cheat on him.

Nashira- Has never been in a relationship but their flawdefinitely involves the hyperactivity and clutziness.

Sam- Never been in a relationship, but is very calculating, andtends to be honest to the point it hurts. This can sometimes end relationships.

Chiller- Is extremely clingy because of the things that havehappened to her family. She wouldn’t want to lose her partner as well.

Luna- While she is extremely caring and loyal, she tends todrift aloof very frequently. She tries to protect them as much as possible butthat can lead to more harm.

118- If this thing could even have a relationship it wouldprobably involve the fact that 118 is extremely hostile. How would this thingend up in a relationship without killing the other?

 23. What does your character dislike in other people?

Mono- She dislikes people who are very aloof or make constantoutbursts. 

Vivi- People who are rude or discriminate based off of simpledifferences.

Sol- People who are just rude in general. He doesn’t stand forit.

Nashira- They tend not to like people who are lazy or slow.

Sam- Doesn’t like people who aren’t intelligent. It just slowshim down.

Chiller- Doesn’t like people who call others “weak” justbecause of a slight difference in viewpoints.

Luna- Doesn’t like people who can’t be trusted, or just peoplein general who leave a bad impression on her.

118- Doesn’t like living beings in general, but can not standthe “weak” or “stupid” ones.

 29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child?Did that dream come true?

Mono- She first dreamed to be a really cool scientist like herfather, but she cannot remember any of this so it never came true. She’s stillvery intrigued in the sciences though.

Vivi- She wants to become something like a librarian, but thathasn’t happened yet.

Sol- He dreamed of being a teacher, surprisingly as a kid. Hehas never met this goal, and pretty much abandoned the idea.

Nashira- They want to be a famous sportsperson, like a marathonrunner. He probably still has a chance of meeting this goal.

Sam- He was interested in being an assistant beside his creator,but that never happened.

Chiller- Surprisingly, she wanted to be an author. Sadly herfocuses are no longer on that.

Luna- Wanted to be either a scientist or musician. She made apathway in both majors, but never truly met them.

118- I mean, it really only wants domination over it’s hosts. Sofar it’s kinda winning?

 31. Describe a scenario in which your character feels mostcomfortable.

Mono- Sitting down by the waterfall, either next to Flare orSol, who’s basically been treating her like a little sister now along withVivi.

Vivi- Reading in the library. She loves just being immersed in agood book.

Sol- Chilling in his house, maybe practicing his guitar.

Nashira- Playing in the woods! It’s a good energy user.

Sam- Looking around, analyzing the things around him. This comfortis best in a calm area.

Chiller- Sitting under a tree in Snowdin, writing about thethings around her.

Luna- Being in the lab with her husband was what made her mostcomfortable.

118- Um… I wouldn’t really think of comfort but it likes to hangout in labs. It makes it think of the times when it was first being created andcared about.

 37. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor,or protecting their status?

Mono- Honor. She’d prefer being known for a reason rather thanjust simply being popular.

Vivi- 50\50 split, She cares about both of them pretty equally.

Sol- Honor. He feels proud knowing that there is something goodto his name.

Nashira- 50\50, though they’re not really concerned abouteither.

Sam- Status. He would simply prefer being known as an intelligentperson and make sure not to screw it up.

Chiller- Neither. She keeps to herself and no longer cares foreither.

Luna- She usually is 50\50, but she leans towards the honorside. She wants her family name to have a good meaning.

118- Neither, but status would definitely fit for it.

 41. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what theywant, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn itfirst?

Mono- She knows that it requires lots of hard work to earn things,but oh how she wants to just deserve it!

Vivi- She feels she should deserve what they want, but she isaware that you need to work for it.

Sol- Only believes in working for it.

Nashira- Generally believes that they deserve it, but has workedhard for somethings.

Sam- Believes that some you can earn, others you deserve. It’s abalance.

Chiller- She believes she needs to earn it for it to meansomething.

Luna- Knows you need to earn it, but she definitely feels shedeserved a better life.

118- Works for it anyway, believing that it deserves that.

 43. Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was notrelated to them?

(Note that I have no clue what this question is asking so I’mjust making an inference. I assume it means like a character the muse dependson who’s not related to them? I’ll edit if that’s wrong.)Mono- Frankly, she kinda depends on Flare a bit. He keeps her in check if she’supset.

Vivi- She depended on Luna for a long time, but now that she’sgone she’s very dependent on Sol for comfort.

Sol- Doesn’t really “depend” on anyone not related to him.

Nashira- They aren’t dependent towards anyone.

Sam- Since he’s not biologically related to anyone, he dependedon his creator quite a bit.

Chiller- Only depended on members of her family, so no.

Luna- In biological terms, someone she’s not related to anddependent on is Sci. But just in general(family-wise), no.

118- Is not dependent towards anyone.

WHOO!