#but it is WONDERFUL for introspection and sorting out how you want to approach a situation

[mars-ipan]

i love tarot cards so much my best friends

[luckymilkshakerebel]

YOUTH

Genre: slow romace, comfort

Cast : Lee know (minho) x female reader

Song inspired by Lee know youth

---

Minho was never one to rush through life. A man of quiet contemplation, he had always been someone who valued deep thoughts, slow mornings with a cup of tea, and long strolls through nature. He liked to take his time, to observe the world, to experience life in small, meaningful ways. But sometimes, life had a way of moving too fast, and in those moments, he wished he could keep up, wish he could live more fully in the now.

And then, there was Y/n.

Y/n had entered his life like a whirlwind, her energy and joy infecting everything around her. Where Minho was calm, measured, and thoughtful, Y/n was spontaneous, playful, and always looking for a way to make the most out of every moment. She had a unique way of reminding him that life was more than the big goals or the future plans—it was the little moments that mattered the most. And it was her cheerful perspective that had been slowly teaching him to live in the now.

One crisp autumn morning, Minho sat in his favorite coffee shop, sipping a latte and gazing out the window. The world outside was awash with the colors of fall—red, orange, and gold—and the air had that perfect bite that made him want to wrap himself in a warm sweater. He had always loved these mornings, where everything felt still and peaceful. The perfect time for introspection.

As he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone, a message popped up on his screen.

"Let’s enjoy life in this very moment."

It was from Y/n.

Minho smiled to himself. It was exactly the kind of message that she would send—simple, yet full of meaning. It was her way of reminding him that life was happening right now, not in the future, not in the past, but this very moment.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he thought about how to respond. He had been in his head a lot lately, weighed down by work, responsibilities, and the endless cycle of planning for what was to come. The idea of “living in the moment” had become somewhat of a mantra in their relationship. Y/n often used it to snap him out of his overthinking, and Minho found that, when he took her words to heart, he felt lighter, more free.

But today, something felt different. Y/n’s message wasn’t just an invitation—it felt like a challenge.

He typed back, smiling as the words formed on his screen:

"I’m here at the coffee shop, lost in my thoughts. But I’m willing to make this moment count. What do you have in mind?"

Y/n’s reply came almost instantly.

"Meet me at the park in 15 minutes. Trust me, you’ll want to be here."

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued but slightly apprehensive. He had no idea what Y/n was up to, but that was part of her charm. She always had a way of making things feel spontaneous and fun, even if it was something as simple as a walk in the park. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what she had planned. With a soft chuckle, he finished his coffee, slipped on his jacket, and headed out the door.

---

The park was not far from the coffee shop, just a short walk through the quiet streets of the city. As he arrived, he spotted Y/n near the entrance, bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking more like a kid than an adult. She waved enthusiastically as he approached.

“There you are!” Y/n exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Minho smiled, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little off—Y/n’s energy was always contagious, but today, there was an almost electric charge in the air.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking around, half-expecting a flash mob or some sort of surprise event.

Y/n grinned, clearly delighted by his curiosity. “Well, I was thinking,” she began, “that we’re always so busy planning and thinking about the future. So, today, we’re going to do something completely unplanned. Something just for the fun of it. Something that makes this moment count.”

Minho felt a flutter of nervousness in his chest. He was a planner by nature, not one to dive headfirst into something without at least a bit of structure. But he trusted Y/n—he always had. And if there was one person who could make him step outside his comfort zone, it was her.

“Alright,” Minho said, still not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. “What’s the plan?”

“No plan!” Y/n said with a wink. “That’s the beauty of it.”

Y/n grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the edge of the park, where a small, pristine lake lay shimmering under the soft afternoon sun. The trees around it had shed their leaves, leaving a blanket of gold on the ground.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Y/n said, her voice full of excitement. “We’re going to take off our shoes, roll up our sleeves, and wade into the lake.”

Minho blinked. “Wait, what?”

Y/n laughed, clearly loving his reaction. “I know it’s crazy. But think about it—how many times do we sit by a lake, admire its beauty, and do nothing? Let’s go in. Right now. No overthinking. Just living.”

Minho stared at the water, unsure of how he felt about the idea. It was cold, and autumn had made the water less inviting than it would have been in summer. But as he looked at Y/n—her eager face, her arms already beginning to roll up her sleeves—he could feel the tug of her energy. It was like she was asking him to step into the present with her, to leave behind the walls of hesitation and just embrace the spontaneity of the moment.

“Are you serious,Y/n?” Minho asked, half-laughing.

“I’m always serious when it comes to making life fun,” Y/n replied with a mischievous grin. “Come on! It’ll be the best thing you’ve done all week.”

With that, she kicked off her shoes, and without waiting for him to catch up, she stepped into the lake with a splash. The cold water immediately soaked into her pants, but she didn’t seem to care. She was already laughing, spinning in the water like a child, her joy infectious.

Minho hesitated for only a moment before following her lead. He pulled off his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped into the chilly water. It felt strange at first—the coldness shocking against his skin—but as Y/n twirled around him, her laughter echoing in the crisp air, something shifted inside him.

He stopped thinking. He stopped planning. He just was. And for the first time in a long while, Minho felt fully present in the moment.

Y/n, still splashing around, called out, “See? Doesn’t it feel good to just be here? Right now?”

Minho grinned, shaking his head. “You’re crazy,” he said, but the smile on his face was genuine.

“Maybe,” Y/n replied, her eyes sparkling. “But sometimes, crazy is the only way to live. We spend so much time planning for the future or reflecting on the past that we forget to enjoy what’s right in front of us. And this—this is it. This moment.”

Minho stood there for a moment, looking around. The golden light, the cool water, the sound of Y/n’s laughter filling the air—it was perfect in its simplicity. He realized that Y/n had a point. It wasn’t the big events, the grand plans, or the distant goals that made life worth living. It was the unexpected moments, the spontaneous decisions, the times when you let go of everything else and just lived.

And in that moment, he felt something click. He felt alive.

---

After they finally emerged from the lake, both soaked and laughing, they sat on the grassy shore to dry off, their clothes sticking to their skin but their hearts light.

Y/n leaned her head on Minho’s shoulder, content in the quiet that followed their impromptu adventure.

“Thank you,” Minho said softly, his voice sincere. “For reminding me to be here. Right now.”

Y/n smiled up at him. “Anytime, love. It’s all about the moment.”

And as they sat there, side by side, the world seemed to pause—just for them.

Want to read more you can go to my MASTERLIST

[quickdeaths]

@more-than-a-princess

With the person she was intending to meet running late, Shinobu sat upon the bench at the train station, waiting. Too often did loitering in a public place seem to others as an invitation to approach her with confessions or date requests, so looking occupied was a (mostly ineffective) attempt to stave off such behavior. In this instance, they held their phone in their hands, trying to determine what sort of message might be appropriate for the situation at hand. For now, at least, she recognized the importance of composing the message in full before ever typing, rather than subject the recipient to the endless triple dots should she happen to be looking.

[Yaguchi]: Miss Nevermind, I wanted to express my appreciation for the chocolates you sent me the other day. They were both thoughtful and delicious. [Yaguchi]: I regret that I couldn't see you on the day in question, but as you may have heard, there was a certain unpleasant incident that kept me rather occupied well into the evening. [Yaguchi]: I'd hoped to see you and convey my appreciation in person later, but it seems it's been quite the busy week for both of us. [Yaguchi]: Ideally, I'll be able to meet with you and Anzu later tonight, but in the event that it's impossible for me to do so, I wanted to speak with you before the distance between then and now became too great, and I appeared ungrateful. [Yaguchi]: In any event, I wish you and Anzu a pleasant evening.

The message was regrettably long, but there wasn't much Shinobu could do about it. There were enough things that warranted mentioning that it simply required a series of messages. Still, even after saying that much, Shinobu wondered if there was yet more to say. "Shinobu-san!" The introspective moment was broken by the sound of a familiar voice. It seemed there would be no time for further messaging, with Shinobu looking up from her phone to see the person she was meeting disembarking from the train. "I hope you weren't waiting for me long. Are you ready to go?"

"Girls' night!" Anzu declared with a small laugh, walking behind her new friend with a cheery, carefree expression. "I'm glad we could do this, Sonia-san. It's gonna be so much fun!" With the majority of her friend group being 'old people who worked at the theater' and 'Shinobu-chan exactly,' it wasn't like there were many people who would come with her to a host club, or really anywhere she liked to go. She really enjoyed the nightlife, and while there was a limit to the kind of messy fun she could get into when accompanied by Sonia, whose reputation was important enough to be worth protecting, it was still nice to have a friend around.

As they approached the club, Anzu pointed out the sign, a large, fancy, silver banner over the entrance that read SHOOTING STARS in English, with NAGAREBOSHI in smaller kanji between the two words. A moderately classy display beside the door featured the establishment's social media accounts, testimonials from local entertainment figures (including, perhaps, a certain Kohaku Goto XII herself) and headshots of the most popular hosts. It was the photographs in particular that most drew Anzu's attention.

"That's one of our classmates in 77-B," she explained, pointing to the only woman among the hosts, a handsome girl with short blue hair and a classy vest over a short-sleeved button-up shirt. "Rui-kun! She's the Ultimate Host." How exactly an underage girl had won that title two years ago, Anzu wasn't sure, and wasn't going to question. In a lot of cases, HPA students were just that exceptional, to the point where normal rules didn't seem to apply to them. Or maybe it was the case that rather than the 'talent' that everyone talked so much about, the core of being a Hope's Peak Academy student was more about 'going so far as to accept no obstacles in the way of one's dreams.' Or not. Anzu wasn't smart enough to think about those kinds of questions.

"She and Shinobu-chan don't really get along, but she's not a bad person," Anzu explained, taking one last look towards the display before leading her friend into the club. Shinobu didn't get along with most people, so Anzu didn't necessarily think of it as a disqualifying factor. The club's interior was cleaner and more presentable than many others of its kind, not that Sonia might have much to compare it to. Rather than the neon pinks or sultry reds of a lot of clubs, Shooting Stars kept a comfortably mellow blue aesthetic, paired with classy blacks and clean whites. Comfortable plush booths surrounded small, round tables that nearly sparkled, the ceilings dotted with perhaps too many chandeliers. A presently-unused stage sat in the back of club, and at this early hour, only a few seats were filled with women in dresses or businesswear, some looking like they may have come straight from the office. The working men, similarly, presented a fairly unified image - nice clothes, trendy haircuts, far more jewelry than most men.

Standing at the front of house was an older man by the standards of the district, likely around 30, with glasses, a dark suit, white gloves, dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail. "Welcome, treasured guests, to Shooting Stars," he said with a smile and a polite nod, first to Sonia, then to Anzu. "Anzu-san, it's been too long. Thank you for thinking of us, and bringing a friend." Anzu nodded, beaming. "Hey, Monsieur. I have an appointment tonight, with Rui-kun." At that, the man's smile faltered only a bit. "Ah... I'm afraid your prince is in another castle." That the actress showed no reaction to the reference seemed to dampen his spirits. "Er... Rui-san is, unfortunately, out tonight." He leaned in, speaking more quietly. "Her younger siblings are ill, and she seemed concerned about them. I sent her home, rather than have her worry all night."

Anzu frowned. "Oh... Well, I guess that's a good reason." The man straightened back up. "I'm sorry for you and your friend to have come all this way, but if you'd like to stay, I'm happy to offer you a small discount?" He motioned towards one of the nicer-looking open booths. "If the two of you would like to take a seat, I'll join you in a moment to figure out what we can do for you instead." Disappointed though she was at Rui not being there, Anzu nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Monsieur." Leading Sonia towards the offered booth, she sighed. "Sorry, Sonia-san. I wanted you to meet Rui-kun, but I guess she's not here tonight. Did you think any of the guys on the display were especially hotsexy?"

[maya-matlin]

I’ve been watching Degrassi for the first time and love Maya as much as you do so far! I loved her with Cam and can’t really fully embrace her and Zig, but maybe that will change! Don’t worry, I’m not one of those people who thinks Zig is at fault for Cam’s suicide – I think maybe Zig just isn’t my type?! Cam is the sensitive awkward troubled but sweet sort of guy I seem destined to love. I would love to hear how you think Maya and Zig are different and how you think they’re similar. And I saw someone saying that Zig and Maya would be an even more popular ship than it is if the writers had kept zig more of a goofball screwup than rewriting him as a drug dealing gang member criminal and wondered if you agree? This is actually the first ask I’m sending to anyone so I can’t wait to read your reply!

I think that's a pretty common reaction to their season 12 story line. Maya's relationship with Cam was so short lived and mostly untainted by anything "bad" or "toxic" due to Cam dying so young. So as a result, he's technically Maya's boyfriend that made the least relationship mistakes. I should make it clear that my interpretation of their relationship and Cam in general is kind of marred by the fact that the fandom has consistently misunderstood the suicide arc and Zig's alleged culpability in it for years on top of unfairly villainizing Maya for choosing to move forward in her life while having negative emotions surrounding Cam. But needless to say, Cam was fine? It's funny you think he was sweet, because I never saw it that way. He wasn't mean, but like.. he was more neutral? I think he was polite and very unsure of how to approach Maya and others, but I don't feel like his personality was on display enough for me to say any differently. I do believe he genuinely cared for Maya and was aiming to be a good boyfriend, though. Especially after getting back together with her.

I answered an ask very similar to this one not too long ago re: the similarities and differences between Zig and Maya, so I'm just going to copy and paste that.

Honestly, I’m not sure Zig and Maya are all that similar. The main similarities that jump out to me is that both seem to value a relationship based on an emotional connection and friendship rather than a mostly physical one. Both are extremely loyal people and will do whatever they can for their friends and loved ones as well as each other. Neither is afraid to get involved, often being the one to step in to defend someone else.

As for their differences, Maya’s more ambitious than Zig. By the time we meet Maya, her heart is already set on having a future in music. While her passion eventually shifted from being a cellist to wanting to be something akin to Taylor Swift, Maya always tried to put her dreams first. It’s not that Zig is lacking in passion, but he doesn’t have the confidence in himself to be successful. There are hints that he’d make a good chef and it’s implied Zig continued to cook off screen during Next Class, but we never see any story line or moment that suggests he’s all that passionate about cooking. It’s just something he does and seems to enjoy, but it’s never presented as his “thing” the way Maya has her music, Tiny has marine biology or Grace has technology (?). What’s funny is that compared to a lot of characters, Zig has a decent variety of talents. It’s just that they were eventually dropped or in the case of music, Zig was retconned into being a bad guitar player to make him look like an obsessive, pathetic boyfriend for wanting to join his girlfriend’s band when he’d literally been the lead singer/bassist of Maya’s last band. Zig is much more open about his feelings than Maya. Throughout their relationship (even before they were officially dating), Zig was the one voicing his wants while Maya was more hesitant and introspective. Maya had a tendency to go into denial if it meant her feelings would cause friction within her friend group. So in that way, you could say Maya is more selfless while Zig is a bit more self involved? He’s more impulsive than Maya, not always seeing the bigger picture, while she seems to consider everything first. When Maya is hurt and upset, she shuts down, removing herself from the situation and refusing to engage unless provoked. Zig feels the need to overcompensate, sometimes acting like an asshole to convince the person hurting him that he doesn’t care. In spite of all this, I actually think Zig is the more sensitive of the two and the more observant one. Maya’s also sensitive and pays attention, but she sometimes misses the mark.

I'm sorry, but I kind of hate that? Zig didn't choose to be a gang member. He was forced into that situation due to his upbringing and where he lived. I don't think it makes him lesser or defines his worth as a person or a love interest. It reeks of classism to me. I'm sure that wasn't your intent, but I've seen many comments that severely misunderstand Zig and what he was going through. The entire point of his gang arc during seasons 13 and 14 is that he too didn't want to be forced to sell drugs and do other gang affiliated activities that the writers couldn't be assed to expand on. It's easy to say people like Cam and Miles were "better" or "safer" than Zig because they came from very different worlds than he did. Like, once Zig and Maya started dating in season 14, Zig made it clear he wouldn't have blamed Maya for dumping him and felt like shit over the circumstances of them sleeping together for the first time. If anything, I actually think this era of Zig's life made him a stronger, richer character. In the long run, it was also one year of Zig being gang affiliated vs three where he wasn't? I can't change anyone's opinion, but this is mine and I can't fathom Zaya being "ruined" over that when season 14 was arguably their best season. In spite of the circumstances Zig found himself in, he was consistently a great, supportive friend to Maya even before they became a couple. Regardless of what anyone thinks of Zig personally or how they might judge him for circumstances mostly out of his control, Maya still felt safe with him. I think that's pretty telling and says a lot about the depth of their connection. And, honestly Zig as a person. My main take is that Zig was the same guy from season 12 during seasons 13-Next Class. This was even pointed out by Maya herself when telling Zig she initially thought he'd changed when they met up again in the rubber room. He hadn't. He'd literally just cut the sleeves off his shirts and adopted a new persona. He didn't become a worse person because he was pulled into a gang.

[illimitablespaces]

I want to ask you the same dozen: 1, 9, 14, 18, 20, 30, 47, 52, 55, 66, 70, 93. c:

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

I enjoy the delicate craft of wine glasses, or rather, the formal glasses associated with various libations--among my favorites are Champagne coupes (not flutes) and Brandy snifters. There's something satisfying about the tactile feel of holding the stem of a chilled coupe and cupping a warm snifter in one's hand, to say nothing of the drink contained therein.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Almost too many to number, but one I recall vividly is the resinous scent of a pine forest, wafting languidly in summer heat. Not a common smell, oddly enough, though one I have been thinking of fondly in recent days.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Something with cinnamon or wintergreen.

18. ideal weather?

I love a good fog, in early morning, before summer heat has set in. That almost chilly sort of damp and cool, found in sheltered fields or on quiet lakes in late July.

I also love the introspective fog of autumn, obscuring the landscape in a sort of precipitous veil, in a way related to the fog of summer months, yet where one recedes, the other encroaches, and this is the essential difference.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

My preferred writing space is a notebook, where the act of writing by hand seems to aid me in communicating my thought most clearly. Contemporary technology has made some things a touch easier, and a laptop is my second choice. Most often though, I prepare replies such as this in the notes app on my phone, which is in part why I take so long in presenting my answers; it is simply too cumbersome for me to tap-tap-tap individual words out, like some sort of 21st century cave-dweller... my ideas too often extinguish before I can gather them into a coherent response.

It's also worth mentioning I used to be a prolific note-maker, using any bit of scrap paper to jot down key words or phrases, and I believe that my lack of maintaining this practice has also proved detrimental to my written and verbal expression.

30. places that you find sacred?

The forest and woods come immediately to mind, and other settings in nature, too--there's something particularly individual about places and locales forged into creation by our Creator that moves me in a way that man-made cathedrals and mosques do not.

While I admire the work and craftsmanship of those structures dedicated to prayer, and how we can collectively comment on the beauty of such spaces, it is an inward and perhaps indescribable beauty which compels my sense of awe and reverence when I enter a hemlock cathedral or stand atop the altar situated at a rocky ledge overlooking a vast freshwater sea... the rush of wonderment might be similar from one person to another, but the sacred-ness of the experience is unique to myself. I might tell of various aspects in detail, but the nature of my being moved--particular to myself--is what motivates me to mention these places and why I believe them to be sacred.

*addendum: libraries--if there are places aside from the usual houses of prayer that are sacred, libraries should be counted among them.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Difficult, given that I was born and raised in the "Dairy" state, and after giving up dairy for a time, I find certain cheeses to produce an allergic reaction of sorts in my mouth, an itchiness which seems exacerbated by hard cheese varieties.

Digression aside, I do like a good cheese, and these days I usually go for a young, soft-ripened Goat cheese, preferably of Spanish origin (I'm not sure what's going on in those Iberian pastures but the "terroir," or whatever is equivalent for dairy, seems delightful).

Honorable mention goes to Saint Agur, a heavily-salted French blue cheese that is quite pungent yet altogether approachable. Its flavor and supple creaminess make for a tasty spread on crackers or toast, it also pairs divinely with firmer fruits, and has a good melt suitable for grilled sandwiches.

52. favorite font?

I think I'll say Garamond, a nice serif font with laterally broad strokes and easy on the eyes.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Rapunzel holds a top spot but also the Little Mermaid and the Little Match Girl. The Little Match Girl tale was adapted into a musical passion of sorts by composer David Lang, to great affect--I used to listen to it every winter on whichever night felt coldest, darkest, quietest, and longest. The music is composed in a minimalist style, with only voices and percussion, which adds to the spare and frigid setting.

This setting of Lang's is an elevation of a young girl's suffering, likening her circumstance to the suffering of Jesus (think of Bach's St. Matthew passion), it is poignant and never fails to hurt my heart. The line of scripture which might best encompass the theme of Lang's adaptation is this, from Matthew: 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'

66. favorite flower(s)?

Lilacs, Linden, Dianthus, Daffodils, Sunflowers, Peonies, Irises, Pulsatilla, Baptisia, Columbine, and many, many more than I can recall or list here presently.

70. left or right handed?

I'm a southpaw, yet another of my self-styled 'freak' attributes.

93. nicknames?

For a time in my early- to mid-teens, I allowed people to call me 'Mike,' which isn't much of a nickname, but over time I phased that out in preference for Michael, since it seemed a shame to vulgarize a Biblical moniker, even if I myself can hardly be said to embody my archangelic namesake.

So for a long while, I had been without any nickname until recently, when my partner started bestowing "Wagamama" upon me. This came about due to our cat companion possessing a rather un-cat like attachment to me (he's more like a tiny dog), as though I'm his mother (I realize the name [after the restaurant] has nothing to do with maternal associations but the '-mama' suffix is the key bit). Also, I'm referred to as "big kitty" (also named by my partner) since I call our cat friend "little kitty."

I hope my replies prove informative and perhaps entertaining to some degree. As always, it has been my pleasure to answer.--M

[arknights-imagines]

waa hello! can i get a valentine's letter from tequila? i just love him sm HSJHS :(( (/pos) thank you!!<33

From, Tequila

Valentine's Day Letter and Date Event

Admittedly - though Valentine’s Day had imbued the nearly entirety of Rhodes Island’s atmosphere with warm exuberance - you felt uneasy as the romantic day approached. It had nothing to do with Valentine’s Day itself, however. Instead it was that Rhodes Island was at present returning to Dossoles for diplomatic matters.

You shut the door of your office after a visit from Amiya, from whom you received a stack of documents; Valentine’s Day nor Rhodes Island’s visit to Dossoles would be a holiday for you, you realized, as you furrowed your brows at all the papers you would have to read, sign, and sort.

Nevertheless you carry the stack to your desk with a huff, strewing them over your desktop in order to scan your eyes over all their titles and choose where to start. As your hand spread them out across, however, something anomalous is revealed from underneath some of the papers and causes from you a small hum of confusion.

It’s a sheet of notebook paper folded neatly in a square; it smells faintly of alcohol, though apart from that you see nothing distinctive on it after turning the square in your hands. Your brow lifts as you wonder on how such a little thing found itself among the stack of mission reports and Operator applications, for a moment you’re worried someone's private notes got lost with your papers. But then - you carefully unfold it.

The confusion on your face shifts to gentle shock, then softens into affection. You completely forget about the documents that call for your attention, and instead your focus is rapt on the rounded handwriting, easily-recognizable - to you, at least - that's on the paper.

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

Hey [name],

It’s me. How are you feeling today, sunshine?

I’m gonna be honest here, I’d rather be speaking these words to you. There’s benefit to writing letters, of course, but things like tone, face expression and body language aren’t any of them. I have to take care of some things, so I guess this will do for now.

Anyway, I’m sure you can guess what the special occasion is, right? It’s Valentine’s Day. [Name], sunshine, you are my lover, no? So it’s only right that I have something up my sleeve for us and today, naturally. Haha, truth is, I’ve never even thought twice about occasions like this until now.

That being said, this letter isn't for Valentine’s only. I guess I want to tell you something…and since we’re here, I might as well.

Don’t get all worked up when I start like this, [name], but I’m going to move onto something more serious. Haha, I know. It’s not really like me to say stuff like that. Trust me a little, alright?

As everyone could see, I adapted quickly to life at Rhodes Island. No issues. After all, I was still very young when the old man threw me into the army and when I first arrived in Dossoles, so I’ve got lots of experience. But, honestly, I was still making sense of my thoughts.

Of course, as the Doctor of Rhodes Island, you’ve always known or have been told exactly what to do. But me…I’ve got no idea, haha. Between my old man and the dark syndicate at the heart of Dossoles, I don't remember the last time I was able to think for myself or introspect on how I felt.

But sunshine, let me tell you the truth… when this warm feeling, something like the sun, started in my chest whenever you were near me…I knew I was in trouble, haha. I tried denying it still, telling myself that Ernesto Salas falling in love wouldn't fly, but nothing could’ve been done about it. Your skin is warm and soft, your face is so cute, your eyes are scintillating, and I love your smile. I couldn’t keep myself from thinking this way about you, [name]. Ah, actually, even now, I can’t stop.

Haha, I suppose they’d call me a love-struck loser? Sure. But I see no shame in losing like this, because well…I love you. I do.

You can tell, can’t you, sunshine? Hmm, sometimes I really worry that you might’ve seen through me from the start. You’re one of the few who can make me nervous like this because of that. But in case maybe you aren't sure after all, again, it's like I said.

I want you so much, [name]. Every day, I promise I do.

…Phew. It feels much better now that I got all that off my chest. Now, [name], I can actually tell you about Valentine’s Day.

Tell you the truth, I really didn't know what I wanted to do for today. Anything that came to mind, well, were all much too obvious and not much fun. I spent the whole night thinking, but now that we’re in Dossoles, I’ve finally got it. Haha, don’t worry about it too much, there won't be any problems. As long as you’re with me, [name], you can always rest easy knowing you’re in good hands.

Alright. I’ve said what I’ve needed to say, and maybe even more than I meant to, haha…I think my heart is warm and fuzzy enough for a lifetime, too.

Come look for me when you’re ready, sunshine.

Ernesto

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

Your heart is doubtlessly soaring and your expression is filled with love as you read Tequila’s name signed at the end of his letter. You make a mental reminder to praise him later on - he’s equally as charming with written words as he is with spoken ones, the paper in your hand is proof of so.

You don't even glance at the papers piled on your desk, you’re already removing your Rhodes Island coat then heading out of our office to begin searching the city for the Perro.

Fortunately, you don't need to do much work in that regard; you approach Dossoles’ pier, when out of nowhere a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. Before you react in shock, an all too familiar laugh meets your ears - “Haha, finally found you, sunshine.”

Your surprise turns to cheer right away. Chiming with a light laugh yourself, you tilt your head to meet eyes with Tequila who wears a playful grin on his face. “Ernesto…don’t sneak up on me like that.” Though your words are scolding your tone clearly tells the Perro that you’re happy to see him, and so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly in reply. “Alright. Come here.” His hands stay on your waist as he turns you to face him, and you comply completely; warmth comes to Tequila’s expression when he says his next words, “Mm, Happy Valentine’s Day, [name].”

You return his greeting while you're smiling softly, and after you inquire, “What do you have planned for today?” The Perro perks up a little in reply, “Ah, right. Now that you’re here…” Taking it from his pocket, he presents a slip of paper in front of your face. Your head tilts to the side a little, “A ticket?” He nods, “Correct. Want to guess for what?” Eyes becoming thoughtful, you avert your gaze and sift through your mind for possibilities, “...a movie?” This time he shakes his head, then glances indiscreetly at the grand ships docked nearby, “Now take another guess.”

The way Tequila practically points your attention toward the ships causes your brows knit together. You think for a moment as you stare at the ticket, then your eyes snap open in realization, “A couple’s cruise? How did you manage that?”

A grin grows on the Perro’s lips, he rewards you by placing the ticket into your hand, “Haha, I thought you wouldn’t figure it out. I might’ve been exiled by Mayor Candela, but I’ve still got a few connections around Dossoles. Now-...” When you visibly hesitate, he pauses.

While a dread fills you if you think about the papers still on your desk, but even on holidays you still have a responsibility as the Rhodes Island’s Doctor. You sigh, “Thank you for this, but…we’ve still got our work, Ernesto.” He blinks, “We’re not in trouble if we go away for a few days. Does a Dossoles cruise with me not sound good?” You're very quick to shake your head, “Of course I want to go with you, but can I at least bring my Rhodes Island paperwork-” “Ugh. No way, sunshine. Negotiation failed, then.” When Tequila cuts in lightheartedly with a click of his tongue, you lift a brow; though by the time eyes glint with playfulness, it was already too late for you, “Alright, [name], how about this-”

Before you can even protest, the Perro takes you in his arms and - thanks to his height - is already quickly heading towards the cruise ships in the distance. “What- Ernesto!” You attempt to hiss at him, though it doesn't work much; the warmth spreading through your chest from his antics and the sudden close proximity instead causes your words to come out in a chime of laughter.

“Sorry, you’re coming with me.” The mischief lingers in his gaze, though you notice a genuineness ease into his smile. Tequila’s words leave him tenderly and tone lifts with liveliness when he speaks, continuing to carry you down the pier, “I’m not keen on using violence to resolve my problems, sunshine, but given that you weren’t cooperating…haha, well, I can't let you off so easy, right?”

[finelinegynandromorph]

circles, mirrors, self-reflection: soft initial thoughts on vocal symbology in as it was

listen, new heart tattoo just dropped in the form of this gorgeous song and the accompanying visuals from the music video. it’s gonna take me literal years to process this (and i don’t think it will ever end, as in all of h’s music, and i love that) and i’m sure i’m gonna come back to this with more structured thoughts but i did want to get a few initial feelings down and out of my head. this is going to approach more of a ✨journal entry✨ type reflection on some of h’s harmonics rather than a super coherent analysis but hey that’s pretty par for the course over here at ~butterfly h world~. 

okay honestly this title feels more aspirational than anything else bc i don’t actually have the ability to tie in everything there i just wanted it up there as a reminder to myself of something i’ll have to come back to again and again to try and figure out (and read all of your wonderful thoughts)!

whew okay i’ll move chronologically through it and provide some commentary!

so we start out with a child’s voice and then move swiftly into the jumpy poppy synth chords—there’s something so playful about this melody, which really has me thinking about all the inner child discourse going on about the music video, combined with a young child’s voice at the start. there’s a deeper slower synth beat in the background, which weaves in an undercurrent of melancholy and makes me think of joy in the middle of pain—i find myself both smiling and crying during this song. when it first came out i think i was crying more, today while listening i can’t help but dance and smile, perhaps because i’ve watched it so many times that what i’m really left with is the joy, the surviving, the multitudes housed within harry’s body. but yeah back to the beginning!

holding me back / gravity’s holding me back

ahhh, harry alto our familiar our beloved!!! (check these out for a better explanation of this tone lol) we’ve got our favorite comfortable register here with extra echoing effects, which already has me thinking of spinning in circles in a tonal sense, with words blending together temporally (like h’s selves??). it seems to tonally mirror the imagery of harry and his blue counterpart spinning around and around.

his voice here is soft, ever so slightly breathy, with the qualities of a head voice. the lightness of his tone adds to the effect of the synth, combining to heighten this sense of floating around, spinning in a sonic space.

i want you to hold out the palm of your hand

here h drops low, his voice growing even softer with that range drop. he does the same on all the counterpart lines in this song (seems you cannot be replaced | why are you sitting at home on the floor? | your daddy lives by himself) and you can hear the breathiness particularly well in 

seems you cannot be replaced

ahh just the softness of the voice drop in “-placed” gets me every time, he’s almost whispering at the end and i looooooooove it, makes me feel so many things. i think part of this is a personal vocal gender thing too, like i’ve said before my most comfortable register is around the same place as what harry’s seems to be, and the fact that he needs to be softer on his throat at that deep pitch, just like i do?? wowowow

okay so this isn’t a clear structured thought, but the texture of his voice in these verses is something that hits me too. sort of like how you can often tell if someone’s smiling when they’re talking even without seeing them just based on the sound of their voice, certain parts of songs can feel more smiley than others, even if they don’t have that truly ~brassy campy smiley~ sound of songs in say disney princess movies (or tpwk....). in the verses, harry very distinctly does NOT sound like he’s smiling. there’s a reflective, introspective quality to this soft voice that feels congruent with his facial expressions throughout most of this video. that combined with the floaty, spinny synth, the people flooding around him, h walking backwards, the spirals of the penguin enclosure—i just, i don’t know, there’s something here about constant emotional cycles and running round and round in circles and the soft introspection of his tone here seems to complement that.

oh 

     oh

          oh

okay lol i wrote them like this to be extra but also to reflect what i think is a fun little instrumental mirror to what some of the background synth instrumentals are doing, which looks sorta like this:

^

                  ^

        ^

                       ^

and it sounds like h is mirroring the instrumental notes i’ve bolded here in his “oh, oh, oh”. this feels slide-y, like he’s moving down some steps.

in this world, it’s just us / you know it’s not the same as it was / in this world, it’s just us / you know it’s not the same

okay! chorus!! here we’ve got a lovely familiar choral harmonic breakdown:

- h high consonant harmony with extra vocal doubling

- harry alto

- very very soft low consonant harmony

the extra vocal doubling on the high consonant harmony makes it sound extremely foregrounded, while the low pitch of the other consonant harmony (both a production feature and the effect of harry dropping into a very low tone for his vocal range) sounds almost ghostlike, gliding along beneath the surface. 

as with anytime we’re thinking about gender and vocal symbology, if i’m talking about binaries it’s to discuss how h explicitly fucks with them. just like how we have h and his blue counterpart separated and coming together near the end of the video, i think the explicit separation of the high and low consonant harmonies, along with their associated historical gendered connotations, make for a beautiful vocal display of the gender push and pull happening within h himself. i think by clearly aesthetically delineating those binary associations of man and woman within himself and the blue counterpart, along with the historically feminine higher register and masculine lower register, harry is able to deftly demonstrate the existence of both binary ideals within one person, which really challenges the notion of a binary existing in the first place. 

also also, we have dissonance!!!!!! it’s extremely brief but i think really significant. on the first iteration of the phrase 

it’s just us

the harry alto and low consonant harmony both drop downwards, while the high consonant harmony floats upwards. this harmonic deviation occurs most notably on the word “us”. okay okay okay wow so we have harry using dissonance on collective pronouns? have we seen him do this to emphasize points when he’s talking about himself before? (yessssss see this post on falling for an example). the power of him using dissonance on the line “it’s just us” when it’s only him on vocals??? 

just to break this down, we’ve got different tonal inflections by different harry voices on the word “us”, essentially suggesting that seemingly disparate entities (the feminine and masculine registers) are joined together in this “us”—presumably, the “we” of fine line, h themself. this is a theme we see all throughout the music video (and all of h’s music but anyway).

i’m also struck by the fact that the next time he sings “it’s just us” in the chorus, every register follows the same downward track—that is, there’s no dissonance now! as if he’s underscoring, yes, they sound different but they really are all “us” (me). 

also are u kidding me his little painted red toenails my fucking heart

as it was / as it was, as it was

okay here the high consonant harmony steps out for a second and we just have the harry alto, now delivered in a punchier chest voice, and the low consonant harmony (which you can hear a little clearer now). 

the tonal journey of the chorus feels very bouncy, with the pitch jumping up and back down in slides and the texture of the sliding rhyme as/was almost suggesting a circle: as->was->as.

verse 2 is tonally much the same as verse 1. then we’ve got harry doing more vocal slides on the "oh, oh, oh” before the second chorus, so it all runs together a little more than the previous instance, where they felt a little more siloed as distinct notes. to use some terms, the first “oh’s” sounded more syllabic, whereas this feels like a slidey run, a melisma. i love the idea that this could be mirroring h’s identity journey as described in this song, a feeling of distinct things blending together (almost like there are ~no binaries anymore~ hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm)

the bridge is delivered in a very straight-faced, introspective tone (once again, no smiley singing here). there are radio-ish effects on his voice (which like, i need more time to process the meaning of this lol), and there isn’t a lot of vocal jumping here, especially compared to the tonal bounciness of the rest of the song. i actually think this still creates a spherical effect though! the smoothness of the way his words move together in this section seems to sonically evoke the same-ness of moving around in a circle, the viewing of the same things over and over again, whereas the tonal bounciness of the rest of the song seems to describe the curves and ever-changingness of the arcs of a circle. (same-ness and ever-changingness meaning the same thing? breaking down binaries??)

this has me thinking about some of the perspective choices in the music video, how the camera is sometimes on the wheel with h and his blue counterpart, so that they are fixed and the world is spinning, versus when the camera angle is from the outside and we’re seeing h spinning around. i’m still trying to figure this out, but i wonder if the tonal differences between the bridge and the rest of the song evoke these different perspectives at all.

is the tonal same-ness of the bridge a reflection of the way that when you’re outside of the wheel all you see is the same thing? is the tonal bounciness of the rest of the song a sonic reflection of the feeling of being on the wheel, always reaching for something, your movement describing the arc of the circle? is it the other way around? is it both? honestly i have no idea, someone pls lmk if you have any thoughts on this it will continue spinning around my mind for ages, i’m sure.

hey!

emotional release!!! no coherent thoughts here, h just has such an emotive, musical shout, and it gives me so much joy to hear him yell.

h delivers the final chorus (i guess it’s a hook? but like we know we don’t strictly follow definitions over here, it’s just ~vibes~) in his mixed head/chest voice that i’ve talked so much about particularly in adore you. i LOVE this voice. i have SO MUCH gender? vocal? envy over this voice. wowowow. i feel like once more the texture of his voice is reflecting his facial expressions in the music video here. this is the only time in the music video that he’s smiling and emoting joy! and while this chorus isn’t exactly that brassy smiley voice, it feels like there could be an emotional grin in there! it feels joyous, cathartic, celebratory (with the bells chiming in, almost just almost reminiscent of wedding bells? anyone? like not in the marital sense as much as in the sense of a union? of self?? idkkkkkkk).

the sound of h’s mixed voice sliding up into “you knowwwwhhhhh” here just WOW i can absolutely see the veins in his neck standing out when he hits this live (for reference, esny behind the album live performance “tell me something i don’t already knowwwwwwwwhhhhhhh” hmmm hmmm self-knowledge beautiful registers that require some vocal strain hmmmmm).

okay! so, not gonna try and summarize bc this is really just a little vocal journal entry after new harry music!!!! i will say in thinking about shifting perspectives in the music video, circular imagery, tonal “bounciness”, etc. i’ve been finding this song really bouncy and beautiful to sing along to, and i’ve really been finding myself jumping around to different harmonies. there just feels like so much ~possibility~ housed in the vocal landscape of this song which i think can be partly attributed to the fact that it’s new music and i haven’t been listening to it for years yet, but i do think it’s also got to do with the reflective, floaty, echoey, tonal arcs h has created in this gorgeous song. 

and i sort of love that as a note to conclude this journal entry?? like.....maybe this is why the song can break you and also leave you with so much joy. even the vocal space (house?) of this song is suggesting boundless possibility. and i think that’s pretty cool <3

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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I recently discovered the work of couples therapist Esther Perel, and I’ve been fascinated by her work on erotic intelligence. In her book Mating in Captivity, she proposes that what kills desire and eroticism within a couple is proximity and familiarity. From there, she argues, it goes that instilling a dimension of distance and mystery in a relationship is the best way to reignite the flame of desire. By doing so, we learn to look at our partner in a different light, we discover new sides of them and all that unknown sparks attraction again.

This got me thinking…

I’ve been working on my second novel, The Dhawan Brothers, for a little over a year now, and it feels to me that my relationship to my manuscript has evolved over that time. From intrigue and mystique working on the initial drafts, to excitement and enthusiasm polishing and editing later versions to, slowly but surely, a sort of ‘been there, done that’ attitude that makes me prone to procrastination. I’m at a stage now where little in the story will change, or at least not dramatically. I know the characters and the plot, and I love them dearly,but they just don’t make me feel those same stomach flutters I had in the beginning.

And so I wonder…

Could our relationship with our writing be affected by proximity and familiarity the way desire is in our human relationships? Is it that, the moment we get too close, when we know everything there is to know about the other entity, it loses some of its appeal?

If that’s the case, is the key to making sure we remain excited about our writing diligentlycreating distance from it every once and a while?

To Take a Break or Not to Take a Break?

In a highly unofficial poll I ran in my Instagram storiesrecently, I asked the writing community about their experience. 94% of respondents said that, in general, they find it useful to take a break from their WIP. Whether it’s because ‘sometimes you just have to recharge’, because it’s ‘like refreshing your mind to be able to focus better’ when you get back to it, or because it ‘helps your brain work out problems behind the scenes’, writers seem to think a little distance goes a long way.

I was intrigued by the manyresponses that indicated taking some time off their WIP gives writers a chance to get back to it ‘with fresh eyes’. By stepping away from our work, we gain the perspective needed to look at it again from a different angle or through a different lens. That time and space away from our manuscript spark new ways of looking at our stories that we might have been too close to see before. We meet it again under different circumstances and in a different mindset, and it helps us rediscover it entirely. This, in turns peaksour interest and eagerness again.

Too Close for Comfort

But then… Isn’t that exactly what Perel’s theory is? That proximity and familiarity lessen desire in a relationship, whilst distance, mystery and fresh perspectives reignite it? When it comes to a writer’s relationship with their work, it feels to me like an interesting similarity.

In that same unofficial Instagram poll, when asked if there tends to be a stage at which they lose interest in their WIP or find themselves procrastinating, 75% of respondents said that’s indeed the case. The additional answers people gave as to when that happens were incredibly varied, for instance:

‘It depends if the passion for the project stays strong’

‘During the first draft’

‘In the middle’

‘In the editing process probably around the fifth or sixth draft’

‘This happens a lot because of self doubt. I struggle with it in all my life’

‘When things are not going the way I want them to’

‘There’s no particular stage, it just ebbs and flows. But I always come back to it’

‘It depends on the book’

There were as many distinctive responses as there were respondents. When I think of my own experience, I find my interest in my own work flaking right about the time the manuscript is polished. That moment where what’s mostly left to fix are stray typos and minor details, but the core of the story is there to stay. That’s the stage where there’s nothing in the writing process that’ll take me by surprise.

When I think of it, that’s exactly how I view and react to everything,in my relationships and in life in general. I like variety, and excitement, and adventure. The moment I get too familiar with anything, my attention starts to stray, until and unless I can find a way to make that situation or relationship appealing again.

Writing as a Relationship… With Ourselves?

I tend to believe that what we write says a lot about who we are as writers. I’m now also tempted to think that how we write says almost as much about us.

What if our relationship to our writing revealed what turns us on as people? And what tells us more about a person than their inner desires?

Yes, there seems to be a trend amongst the people I’ve heard from, in that most writers find distance from their work to be beneficial, and a large portion see their levels of interest in their WIP dwindle at some point or other. When and how and why, however, varies.

If there are as many ways for it to manifest as there are writers out there, I wonder if this becomes less about a relationship with our craft as it is about ourrelationship with our inner selves. A situation where observing how we treat our writing is like holding a mirror back at ourselves, reflecting our approach to any other of our relationships — and life — in general?

Know Thyself

In her book, Perel explains that exploring and understanding your own underlying desires sheds a great deal of light on how you’ll show up in your relationships, what will make you do the things you do, and what might cause you to stray. That sometimes your actions say less about the other person, or the situation, than they do about which of your buttons are getting pushed.

I think looking at how we deal with our writing follows the same logic.

So, if you’re like me, someone who craves new experiences and mystery and excitement, you may find yourself bored when things stabilise and all that’s left is maintenance and housekeeping. On the other hand, if you’re someone who thrives on stability and certainty, you may find the first draft excruciating, but the later stages more enjoyable.

And Then What?

What does that even matter, you might say? Just like any relationship, writing’s a journey and there are bound to be ups and downs we all need to navigate. Right?

Right. But I’d argue knowledge is power. Knowing how desire works, in any form of relationship — with others, with writing, with yourself — helps you understand that, not only there will be ups and downs, but also what specifically triggers your own ups and your own downs, and why. And that, in turn, can greatly help you smooth out those otherwise dizzying curves. If you know your buttons, you don’t have to let them control you. You can take charge.

The writing journey can be fraught with surprises and pitfalls, and every little helps. Understanding how your approach to your writing reflects your own inner tendencies can help you predict when an up or a down isabout to start. With some introspection, you can better prepare for these, capitalise on the highs and give yourself some kindness on — or even minimise — the lows.

If it can help make the journey that little bit easier, isn’t it worth a try?

[broomsick]

Why thank you so much for sharing this remarkable experience, and for tagging me! It truly sounds like a wonderful dream. 

Although I have to say, I’m no expert on on the topic of dream visitation, as the interpretation of such a dream can vary vastly based on one’s personal circumstances and past experiences. Still, I’ll share my thoughts on this dream and the various interpretations it evoked as I read it. 

The first thing I’ll share is this obversation: you’d been warned by others not to go outside and leave the comfort of the wood cabin- not to leave the familiar heat and protection it provided. And still, you were drawn outside and did so without fear. What I see in this is the idea of leaving your comfort zone. Of not listening blindly to what others say and of making your own opinion on things. Especially things that might at first seem scary, or taboo. Unfortunately, the Goddess Hel is often misunderstood and described as this ruthless ruler of a “hellish” realm. But when you start to look into Helheim, what it represents and how it might have really been viewed during the Scandinavian Iron Age, you quickly realize it’s got little to do with the Christian vision of hell. Assuming Helheim is the “norse pagan version of hell” is grossly overlooking many historical sources according to which it might, in fact, have been considered a warm and welcoming afterlife- or, at the very least, a sort of “second life”. In this sense, I feel like this part of the dream conveys the idea of looking past possible biases and having the bravery to ponder things for yourself before forming an opinion. 

The next part of the dream kind of follows a similar pattern: at first, you were unsettled by Hel and the shape she took, as you mistook her for La Mocuana, a legend that scared you as a kid. And yet, when this initial appearance faded, you saw the Goddess as she truly was. She encouraged you to not be afraid, and she approached you with gentleness and benevolence. She helped you to look beyond your initial fear and to let down your walls when around her. This very much seems to me like the Goddess reached out to you. Maybe to help you deal with a current sorrow! She’s a very versatile and complex deity, not at all restrained by the sole concept of death. She can be associated with so many other notions: life, cycles, emotion, introspection, compassion, duality... Compassion is actually a big one! I’ve heard it associated with her so many times it’s pretty much SPG as this point (but don’t take my word for it, I’d still advise looking her up and deciding for yourself!) If she has reached out to you, it’s probably because she genuinely wants to assist you in dealing with a personal matter/matters, or simply because she’s taken an interest in you. Though I can’t speak for the Gods, of course! This is all just my personal impressions of this dreams and its meaning. I’m super happy that you could experience such a soothing dream, and I’m flattered you asked me for my interpretation. I’m sorry I can’t give much more in terms of intepretation, but I wish you the best of luck with figuring out your own impressions on this dream!

I had a positive dream about Hel last night. She comforted me when I was scared and it was undeniable her (half her face was skull-like and grayish dark). The emotions in this dream were extremely potent and I truly felt she was like a mother to me, protecting my inner-child. For reference, I rarely dream if the gods and goddesses. I suffer from chronic nightmares and terrible tormenting sleep paralysis due to my diagnosis of Narcolepsy as well as PTSD. So it definitely caught me completely off guard when I had a dream where I wasn’t being abused and tortured. And what’s more? A dream of the goddess of the dead herself! In this dream, I was in a big wood cabin on stilts that was in a clearing by the woods. It had large doors, and inside was a great dining hall and lots of places to sit. Someone warned me not to wander outside (I don’t remember who, so probably wasn’t significant). But I felt drawn to those big open doors at the front of the cabin. I stepped outside and peaked into the woods. A woman-like figure dressed in shadowy gray robes stood at the edge of the woods. She had her back to me, but when I set foot outside she immediately turned around and started floating towards me with great speed. I was scared because she looked like how La Mocuana was described to me by my abuela. She had a thin body and dark eye sockets like a skull. I went to run back inside. But as she got closer she turned more and more human like, and she took my hand. Half of her was living now, and the other half was a dead. But she looked at me kindly, and I immediately knew it was not La Mocuana, and it was the goddess Hel. In dreams I can feel malicious energy, and I couldn’t feel that around her. Hel took me inside the cabin and we talked (I don’t remember what our conversation was about, but she was very loving and gentle and wiped away my tears). She calmed me down and was like a mother to me. We even talked about fun things (that made me laugh and her smile).

Anyway, I thought I’d share this dream of Hel. If you have any thoughts on it @broomsick lmk! But no pressure of course 🩷🩷🩷

[likeiwishiknew]

Azriel x Gwyn - The Jump

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73319802

He was not a fan of birthdays. 

He certainly never celebrated his own. 

But the Night Court, his family, enjoyed them plenty. Though, admittedly, they enjoyed any occasion where they could all gather together for good fun and good wine. 

Tonight was Nesta’s birthday, and Cassian had gone all out on decorating the House of Wind. Rhys had gifted the place to Cassian and Nesta in honor of their mating, but Azriel still kept rooms here. The pair had insisted upon it, saying that it was much his home as it was theirs. 

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that. Home...he didn’t quite know what that was supposed to feel like. 

He stood off to the side as he always did, watching the revelry. 

Mor was speaking to Emerie. There was an ease between them that he was quite certain he’d never before seen from the female who’d once consumed his thoughts. 

It was no question that Mor was beautiful. He would always acknowledge that, would always care for her, but after centuries of pining after her, he found, in recent years, she no longer affected him the way she used to. And in truth, he was grateful for it. 

Over the centuries he’d tried to convince himself to be content with what they had. That her companionship, her friendship was enough. But that was the thing about one-sided love. No matter how hard you might feign contentment at being able to remain by their side, a part of you would always hope for more. And a heart that yearned for someone who showed no reciprocation was bound to become bitter. 

He was no exception.

One would think it would’ve made him wise enough not to ensure he never fell into the same pattern again. But he damn near had. 

Elain Archeron was lovely, gentle, and seemed to have shared his attraction. 

She was also another’s mate. 

He and Rhys had almost come to blows over Azriel attraction to the middle Archeron sister. His brother had gone as far as ordering him to stay away. An order that had irked him and had the dominant side of him almost determined to go against his High Lord’s order, if for no other reason than to prove his will was no one’s to command. However, time and some distance had given him perspective. He’d come to realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much Elain that he wanted but the idea of her. The idea of belonging with someone so beautiful and soft. The idea of being made whole, the way his brothers had when they’d found their mates. 

That was what he wanted, to feel whole. To be unbroken. 

His quiet introspection was interrupted by a burst of laughter. His eyes darted across the room at the almost musical sound. He caught sight of Gwyn speaking to Nesta and Cassian. Her face alight with happiness.

He hadn’t seen her since their uncomfortable encounter at the shop.

The sight of her put him in good spirits. Until he noticed the excessive rosy tint to her complexion. It took him a second to realize the issue. 

She was drunk, or at least well on her way to it. 

What the hell? 

He headed to where she was, eating up the distance in a few long strides. 

Cassian was the first to notice his approach. His brother gave him an interested look. Perhaps, surprised to see him headed toward people rather than away from them. 

He came up beside Gwyn, something she would normally detect immediately. But with her dulled senses she took far too long to notice. 

When she finally did she only looked up at him in confusion, like she did not know who he was. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked concerned. 

A mischievous smile crossed her face, recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” she admitted, raising her fingers to emphasize how tiny. 

Nesta spoke up, “It hadn’t occurred to me how low her alcohol tolerance would be. Though, in retrospect, it should’ve. I doubt she grew up drinking much at the temple.” 

“I feel great though,” Gwyn interjected. 

Cassian gave her an affectionate smile. His friend looked as though he found this amusing. Azriel did not. He wanted to insist she go rest and sober up, but he knew in his gut she would not appreciate being ordered about. 

“Perhaps, you should like to get some air,” he offered instead. 

Her smile grew wider and she nodded, “That is a most excellent idea.” 

She turned to Nesta and Cassian, “Would you the two of you like to join?” 

Nesta smiled at her friend.

“I think we’ll stay inside, mingle with the others. But you’ll be safe with Azriel,” his brother’s mate started saying, only to meet his eyes, “Right, Az?” 

He returned her stare, “Of course.”

Nesta gave an approving nod and took Cassian by the hand, leading him away. 

Azriel offered Gwyn his arm, uncertain she’d be able to make her way to the balcony without some assistance. He waited for her to scoff, offended, but she took it with no protest. 

He led her over to the double doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.

Releasing his arm, she rushed to the edge. Her face was awash with wonder as she took in the light of the stars, almost as if seeing them for the very first time.

He quietly observed as she took a deep breath, taking in the cool night air. 

“You know I never knew how much I missed the sky until I saw it for the first time again after spending nearly two years locked away in the dark,” she confessed, a smile on her face, “I thank the stars, that I found the courage to meet Nesta and Cassian up here that first day.” 

He did too. 

In moments like this, he was in awe of her. This young woman, whose soul remained bright, whose heart still managed to be grateful, even after all she’d endured. 

Gwyn spun back around to him, “Shall we play a game?” she teased. 

He smirked at her, “What sort of game?”

“A trust game,” she hopped up onto the ledge, sending his heart damn near leaping out of his chest.

“What are you doing?” 

She stood facing him and shot him a playful smile. 

“Game starts...now!” she called out, letting herself fall backward off the ledge. 

Fuck. He cursed. 

He spread his wings and jumped after her. 

She was falling fast, but he was faster. He swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. Moments later, he had them touching down gently on the ground below. 

“What the hell was that!?” his voice near shouting. 

Gwyn tapped her chin in thought, “I believe humans call it a trust fall.” 

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “You could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at him, looking genuinely surprised at his frustration, “I only did it because I knew it was safe.” 

“Jumping off a balcony when you cannot fly is hardly safe,” he admonished.

“It is when I know you’ll catch me,” she all but sang back, grinning up at him. 

He fell silent at her admission. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

So, he shook his head and changed the subject. 

“Let’s get you back into the house.” 

As he readied to fly them back up, she spoke. 

“About the necklace...” she started. 

He winced that the mention, uncertain he wished to discuss it with her in her current state or any state. 

But she was too drunk to pick up on his mood.

“I want you to know I was never angry I was...hurt some. But mostly I was...embarrassed...I think...I don’t...it doesn’t matter,” she trailed off, “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I’m the one who made assumptions.”

He paused. About what?

“So it wasn’t you who hurt me. It was me. I - never mind, it is silly anyways.”

“No. It’s not. Tell me,” he insisted. 

She hesitated, “I was silly for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.” 

Her admission floored him. Why would she think that?

Any male would be so lucky to -

He stopped himself. He couldn’t have this conservation now. Not when she likely wouldn’t even remember any of this come morning. 

Tucking her close to his chest, he went ahead and winnowed them back upstairs. 

Gwyn glanced around, clearly not understanding how she’d gotten from one place to the next. 

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared. 

She shook her head, “You can’t enter the dorm area, priestess’ only.” 

Damn, that was right. Funny how she happened to remember that little detail. 

As though summoned by her sister’s presence, Nesta appeared.

“She’s a bit of mess so it probably would not be wise to bring her downstairs,” the female pointed out, “I’ll take her back to my old rooms, that way if she needs anything I’ll be close by.” 

“It’s alright. I’ll bring her,” he insisted. 

Nesta raised a single brow. 

“I want to make sure she’s fine,” he defended, holding the female’s stare. 

“And you don’t trust that I’d make sure of that?” Nesta returned, with the barest hint of offense. 

“I - Nesta, please, let me do this," he requested. 

She took him in with her all too seeing gaze. 

They stayed like that. Assessing each other, until she realized he wouldn’t yield on this. At which point, she only nodded her assent. He gave a single nod, passing her to take the stairs up. 

Reaching the room in little time at all, he opened the door - taking care not to jostle Gwyn in his arms. 

With steady footsteps, he headed over to the large bed. Kneeling on the edge, he laid her down as gently as possible. 

His shadows danced around her, kissing her skin as though wishing her good night. 

She curled up with his arm. He tried to pull away but she held on tight. 

“Gwyn, Gwyn,” he whispered, to no avail. 

He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, and she nuzzled his hand. Her hold on him loosening. 

He was about to pull away again when she whispered his name, “Azriel.”

The sound was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. He stared down at her, trying to discern if she was awake. But she did not stir. 

His name on her lips brought the tiniest smile to his face. Carefully, he extracted himself from her hold and reluctantly got off the bed. Something inside him calmed at the sight of her peacefully sleeping face. He stared down at the hand she’d held in hers. 

“If there’s anyone who isn’t good enough, it’s me,” he whispered, eyes returning to her.  

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Goodnight, Berbara.” 

- - - 

Her head was pounding. 

She had a sour taste on her tongue, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

Turning over in bed, she opened her eyes. It took all of two seconds for her to realize this was not her room. She sat up and frantically looked around. Absolutely nothing looked familiar. 

Staring toward the door Gwyn willed herself to remember how she’d gotten here. 

She took a deep breath and counted down from twenty. By the time she reached ten, everything from the night before came flooding back. Her face heated from embarrassment. 

God, she could not believe she’d done and said those things. 

Glancing on the nightstand she realized someone had placed a jug of water there, along with a glass. She smiled at the thoughtfulness. 

Filling it to the brim, she took a large sip. When she suddenly remembered she had morning plans. 

With Azriel. 

Oh, gods. 

She was never drinking again.

For a brief instant, she considered not showing up. But that idea went as quickly as it had come.

She was a grown woman. She would not hide from her mistakes and avoid Azriel when he’d been nothing but good to her. Despite her ridiculous behavior. With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and quickly hurried back to her own room, to change out her clothes, before heading up to meet him.

Gwyn had just made it past the archway when Azriel turned. He looked almost surprised to see her. Which was strange because surely his shadows had warned him of her approach. 

He watched with keen focus as she approached.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted.

She met his handsome gaze head-on, “I wouldn’t miss this. I know how busy you are, and I’m the one who asked you to teach me the technique I found in the old tome.”

For a moment, Azriel said nothing. She started to grow a bit anxious, but thankfully he put her out of her misery. 

“Shall we get started then?” he asked. 

She nodded, getting into a fighting stance. 

And with that, they fell into familiar territory.

- - -

Any unease and tension between them had faded with each calculated movement.

He would have to leave soon. Spymaster business. Nesta mentioned it to her the other day in passing when she’d visited her in the library.

In one final attempt to take him down, she darted forward. But just before her hit landed, he stepped out of the way. Her momentum had her tumbling forward, but before she started to fall Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

Still off-balance, she didn’t catch herself in time and wound up crashing into his firm chest.

Palm pressed against him, she pulled back. Praying she managed to keep from blushing, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. 

“Thank you for catching me,” she voiced, and then, remembering events of the night before, she added, “Both times.”

A smile slowly curved his lips. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome, on both counts.”

She knew she was doing a piss poor job of not blushing.

“Oh, also, I meant what I said by way. I know you giving me the necklace didn’t mean what I thought it did. So you don’t have to worry about me having any silly ideas.” 

Gwyn felt him stiffen. Turning her head, she saw his expression had shuttered at her words. Which left her a bit confused. 

Perhaps, her words hurt because they made him think of his own situation. How he pined after a female who already had a mate. It pained her to see him this way, but it wasn’t her place to address it. He wasn’t hers to worry over. 

“Right...well I should go. I mean, I know you have somewhere else to be and so do I so...”

When he said nothing to stop her. She turned to leave.

His voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him, “Gwyn...are we okay?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was the one who’d made a fool of herself yet he seemed to be the one beating himself up over his own mistakes. 

She smiled, meaning every word, “We’ll always be okay.”

~~~

Author notes: I thankfully have not been privy to much the fandom drama that apparently has been occurring as of late, and for that I am grateful. But knowing that it is happening somewhat inspired the ending for this chapter. The reminder that no matter the drama: We will be okay. I genuinely enjoy this series, and I obviously ship Gwynriel. But I know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fiction. We’re meant to get enjoyment out of it. Not start petty wars over it. Anyways, that’s all I have to say on the topic and I promise shall not bring it up again because I don’t like to invite negativity into my life. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter, and if so do please like and comment =D

Bonus notes: 

Me: You’ve determined a schedule Cindy. Do not post until Saturday.

Also me: The world needs more Gwynriel / Azriel x Gwyn content now!

Me:...

Me: Random whims you win again! 

So yeah, let’s just say I’ll post once a week whenever I fancy the chapter complete 😆

~~~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium

@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​

@my-fan-side​

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey you any canon compliant angst no happy ending recs

Hey Lovely!

Ah, you’re an evil one, aren’t ya, LOL LOL!! Hee hee! No worries! I’ve had this one waiting for literal years, finally going to use this post as an excuse to post it up! Enjoy(?)! LOL <3

UNHAPPY or AMBIGUOUS ENDINGS

See also:

Major Character Death / Heavy Angst

Major Character Death / Heavy Angst Pt 2

One Lives, One Dies

John’s Suicide Before TEH

Dies After the Fall and Becomes a Ghost

John Has Cancer

I don't mind by beltainefaerie (G, 221 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Stag Night, 221B, Post-TRF, Angst, Longing) – Sherlock is more vulnerable than he pretends. Part 4 of Bel's Tumblr Ficlets

Pervasive Quietness by LittleLongHairedOutlaw (T, 545 w., 1 Ch. ||  Angst, Friendship, Pining Sherlock, First-Person Sherlock POV) – The hollowness left in Baker Street seeps into everything.

Human Error by YakuzaDog (G, 571 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Missing Scene, Angst) – Sherlock goes on a brief shopping trip.

The Hollow Man by HHarris (G, 639 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Chair, Introspection, Sherlock’s Big Feelings™, Post TRF, Angst, Emotional Turmoil, POV Sherlock, Pining / Sad Sherlock) – Still reeling from the apparent loss of his one and only friend, Sherlock returns to 221B for the first time after the events of The Reichenbach Fall.

Five Seconds by xXLadyLovelaceXx (K+, 658 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Introspection, TGG Pool Scene) – In the half-second before Sherlock shoots the jacket, John notices something.

Promise of Sussex by LittleLongHairedOutlaw (T, 705 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Pining, Ambiguous Ending) – John tries to keep Sherlock conscious after he's been shot on a case.

Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, One-Sided Texting, Pining Sherlock) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?

John Will Never Know by bloodsoakedleather (E, 775 w., 1 Ch. || Fantasy John, Masturbation, PIning Sherlock, Sexual Fantasy, Rimming, Cock Sucking, John’s Red Pants, Pants Sniffing, Coming in Pants, Mild Kink) – Sherlock indulges in a spot of self gratification with the aid of a stolen pair of red pants. Part 2 of Johnlock Porny Ficlets

Words Were Never Useful by Jenn1984 (K+, 819 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, John Whump, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) - ALLEY BEHIND THE BOOKSTORE, JOHN STABBED. HELP NOW. SH

The Other Shoe by thewaitwasworthitlove - (NR, 1,053 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst, URT, Post-TSo3) - Sherlock realizes how deep in love he has fallen for John. Only Sherlock Holmes would manage to be more shattered than crystal dropped on concrete.

The Signs of Loss by LitLocked (NR, 1,103 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TSo3, Pining Sherlock, Self Reflection) – Sherlock's internal monologue after he comes back from the wedding.

Velvet by headlessjess (G, 1,155 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining, Angst, Jealous Sherlock, Loneliness, Sad Fic, Friendship, Bi-Curiousity, Dancing) – It's the day, the wedding day - John and Mary, getting married. And then there's Sherlock, in pain and in love, without knowing how to deal with it.

Imminent by LoyalPaddler (K+, 1,187 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Open Ending) – What did it say about a person if he recognized the feeling of waking up concussed, blindfolded, and handcuffed to a chair? Probably not good, that.

The Simple Separation Will Not Come Between Us by The Circus (T, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, MCD, Violence, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Prose) – The choice is simple. Real, and No John. Or Not Real, and John. For a prompt that says 'John dies and Sherlock loses himself in his Mind Palace’

Hold On by Jennistar1 (T, 1,300 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Hiatus, Friendship) –  Alternative ending to Reichenbach Falls - John knew all along.

The Talons of Sentiment by dearcst (G, 1,463 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV, Angst, Unrequited Love, Pining Sherlock) – I promised myself long ago I wouldn’t succumb to something so degrading, something so vicious. I promised I wouldn’t let myself fall. But that was before him. That was before I met John. In sleep there is such bliss and peace, and as John slept on my shoulder, it killed me inside to know I was so close yet I could never touch him.

Love and Bombs by Spark_Writer (T, 1,696 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, POV Sherlock First Person, Post-HLV, Pining Sherlock) – Love and bombs aren’t all that different, John. In the end, they’re almost indistinguishable. Part 3 of Human Error

BBCSH 'Poor Mary' by tigersilver (M, 1,839 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Missing Scene, Sherlock POV) – As the tin says above, this is a missing scene, set directly after Sherlock awakens in hospital after having been shot by his best mate's wife. Minor angst, some pining, nothing nasty; please don't be alarmed unduly.

Dying Changes Everything by whitchry9 (K+, 1,919 w., 1 Ch || Sherlock POV, Suicidal Ideation, Near-Death, Hospital, Sherlock Whump, Gunshot, Unhappy/Ambiguous Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Sherlock is having an existential crisis and wants to have a near death experience like John did to gain some perspective. “Shoot me John!” he insisted, gesturing to himself. John just looked at him. “Are you completely mad?”

Love Hurts by Grac3 (T, 2,215 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Pining Sherlock, One-Sided Pining / URT, Sherlock / John Whump, Angst, Ambiguous Ending) – In a world where someone's physical injuries manifest themselves on the person who is in love with them, John didn't think that there would ever be anyone who was willing to risk falling in love with him - until he got shot on a case, and it didn't hurt. Unrequited Johnlock.

glimpses through a closing window by radialarch (T, 2,430 w., 1 Ch.  || Hiatus / Post TRF, Vlogging, Pining Sherlock, Angst, BG John/Mary) – John starts a domestic vlog. Sherlock watches it on stolen phones, over flickering wi-fi, and aches.

It's After That Hurts by jonnyluvssherlock (T, 2,791 w., 1 Ch. || City of Angels AU || Fantasy, Fallen Angel Sherlock, Soldier John, Pining Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Permanently Incomplete Fic) – Sherlock's an angel stuck as a guardian to danger addict John Watson. Everything is fine until he gets too involved. Now he has to make the choice, eternity alone or one life time with a man who may or may not love him.

You Paid Me Well In Memories by Ballykissangel - (K+, 3,149 w., 1 Ch. || Heavy Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Grief) –  It's Sherlock's birthday and John is not doing well. No matter how hard he's tried to keep on living, he knows he is going to give up soon and he isn't going to make it. Today is his last and only chance to visit Sherlock's grave to talk and give him his gifts: His dog tags, a book full of notes and memories and the meaning of love as Sherlock watches on in grief.

Out of Time by westernredcedar (T, 3,163 w., 1 Ch. || Wedding, Angst, Pining John, Sad Ending) – Somerset is a lovely place for a wedding, but what John hadn't accounted for was the getting everyone there.

fulfilling for other people by missselene (E, 3,957 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Unhappy Fic, Unrequited Love Confession, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock decides to act on John’s advice regarding romantic entanglements, the results are far from what John expected. Part 1 of fulfilling for other people

Sink Like a Stone by pennydreadful (T, 4,348 w., 1 Ch. || Angst / Dark, Cuddling/Snuggling) – After defeating Moriarty at the pool, life isn't quite the same around 221B Baker Street...it's more peaceful. And stranger.

The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna

Anticlockwise (Ask Time) by TheBookshelfDweller (G, 3,752 w., 1 Ch. || Metaphorical, Angst, Time, Unhappy Ending) – "Let me tell you the truth: Sherlock Holmes cannot beat Time." Time only flows in one direction, and we are stranded in it, carried by currents we mostly never notice are whirling around us. No one can walk backwards along the timeline, and maybe that’s for the best, because what if someone could? Where would they go? Or, better say, to when would they go? Most importantly who would they leave behind (or is it ahead)? In the end, despite the truth, Sherlock Holmes decides to fight Time, for John, for himself - for himself with John.

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

In The End by whitchry9 (K+, 9,677 w., 17 Ch. || Memento Fusion || Amnesia, Growing Old, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst) – When a brain injury leaves Sherlock unable to make new memories, John wonders how Sherlock will cope, and what it will mean for The Work and their life. Because after all, how can you live if you can't feel time passing?

All the Times Something ALMOST Happened by allonsys_girl (T, 9,049 w., 6 Ch. || POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Angst, Friendship/Love, UST) – John and Sherlock dancing around what they dance around in canon.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || Major Character Death, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn't he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

[onestowatch]

Aidan Bissett Wants You to Know It’s Okay to Be Alone [Q&A]

Photo: Brooke James

Aidan Bissett’s sunny and effortless disposition contrasts the chaotic ode to classic rock that is his latest track “Dumped.” The introspective and cathartic nature of his latest offering speaks to age-old feelings of heartbreak while doubling as an optimistic reminder that cloudy days cannot last forever.

Releasing soft-spoken tracks followed by headbanging, classic-rock inspired hits, this young artist’s music truly feels alive, shifting and evolving from one release to the next. With a soulful dedication to “music first, lyrics second,” Bissett is steadily creating his own lane defined by a relentless drive for experimentation. We had the chance to talk to Bissett about his creative approach, his latest single, “Dumped,” and plenty more. 

Ones to Watch: So, tell me the story behind “Dumped?”

Aidan Bissett: Wow, that’s a good question. I wish when I wrote it, it came from like, I had just been dumped… Well, okay, I had sort of been dumped. I don’t know how to explain that, but let’s just say I was in a relationship, taking time off, in a sense. When we were writing it, it was me, my friends, Ryan and Sean, and we were writing in a zoom session for like three hours. It was not a good song, and none of the three of us wanted to say it was a bad song. So, we were like, “OK, we are going to go take a break for a little.” 

Then I pulled my guitar off the wall and started messing around, because when I get bored, especially in sessions, I like to try and take my mind off things. I’ll play random chords and sing random lyrics, like ad-lib over them just for fun. So, I started playing like three chords that are all throughout “Dumped,” singing this hook line that—it’s going to sound really weird—“I’m taking dumps all the time.” The guy I was producing it with was like, “OK, gross,” but that actually could be really cool… what if we change it to “I’m getting dumped all the time.” And I was like, “Woah.” That’s kind of how it started and we were on a roll and wrote the whole song in two hours.

And the song does mean a lot to me, because I have actually been dumped, multiple times. It sucks, it’s not a fun feeling, so every time I listen to it, it is kind of an “f you” type of song. Like, “yeah, I got dumped but I’m better off on my own anyway.” I always like that feeling better than wallowing in sadness. So, for anyone who does listen to it, I hope that it helps bring you out of the mourn and into a new light.

In the music video, you are seen reading an “Idiot's Guide To Love.” What was the last book you read?

I do love reading, I’ve always liked reading. I have not, in the past year, read a ton of books, which sucks because I actually do like reading. Well, okay, my senior year of high school I read like 13 books but a lot of them were for school. But they were still good books! I’m in the middle of reading Dune, which is very good so far. So, hopefully, I can finish that before the movie comes out. But yeah, I do like reading… when I have the time to sit down with my ADHD mind.

“Dumped” is a noted sonic transition for you. Can you tell me about how you approach your genre-spanning sound?

I don’t really like putting myself in one genre. I’m in a certain lane in the sense I do indie-pop, I do alternative, but I don't want to do straight pop. I feel like it's such a box, and it’s so limiting. I just love exploring different sounds, so even from the start, I put out “Different,” and then the second song was “Worst Girls Of All Time,” which was a completely different sound than the indie-pop wave that “Different” is. So, me putting out stuff like this after “Communication” is me exploring new sounds. To be honest, the things I like to hear always change, the bands that I’m listening to are always changing, and I take a lot of inspiration from a lot of different bands. I just love trying new things. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but it just keeps me on my toes instead of just doing the same formula over and over again.

What are you listening to right now?

That’s a good question, it’s kind of all over the place. There’s this one girl, Remi Wolf, who I’ve been non-stop listening to… I have been listening to her for a minute. When she put out her first EP, I loved it. But now, she’s putting out these new tracks and Solomonophonic, her producer, he’s just incredible and her voice is incredible. They are doing so many things that just aren’t normal in this time of music; it’s just so her own lane. I find that really inspiring in the sense that she’s carving her own path and not following in the line of others.

I feel like I’m always listening to Wallows no matter what. I always have them ready to go. COIN. Role Model’s rolling out new stuff so I’m excited for that, he’s kind of taking a change in his own discography. [The] sounds that he is doing are definitely a lot different from his earlier stuff. This guy, binki. He’s actually opening for Role Model on this tour. Oh my gosh! His music’s insane, so cool. It’s got so many sounds going on, similar to Remi Wolf, there’s so much going on, you’re like ‘wow.. I’ve never heard something like this before.’

For those who don’t know, you write, record and produce your music all by yourself. Can you walk me through your creative process?

Yeah, I’m very musically-driven. Everyone has their own thing, I feel like a lot of artists, like the Olivia Rodrigo types, are lyrically-driven. I’m definitely music first, lyrics second. So, when I sit down to write something I try and get something I latch onto. I’m like, “Oh, this sounds cool. Lyrics could sound cool over this.” Anytime I go into a session or I’m recording by myself, I try to lay down some form of music, and then I’ll freestyle lyrics or freestyle melodies over the top, or pick a melody I like and throw lyrics over that melody. Whether that’s a hook or a verse, that kind of just depends on how I’m feeling. It’s definitely a bit unconventional compared to other artists. I feel like artists are a bit more put together when it comes to writing music just because I’ve only been doing it for like a year-and-a-half. But I have my own process, and it works. Every time I write something I learn something new. I’m excited to see, even a year from now, what my process will be… and even if it's completely different or efficient, who knows?

Tell me about the influence of music in your childhood and the decision for you to be a musician at a young age - you started playing electric guitar very young - what was your household like? Musical family?

My dad wanted the kids in our family, I have two other siblings, to play an instrument for two years during our young adult life. He wanted us to play piano before we got to pick, so we had two years of piano and then we had to pick an instrument. So, my sister went and played two years of piano and didn’t really stick with it afterward. Then, it was my turn and I was like, “Well, I don’t really want to play piano, can I play guitar?” And since I was the only one who asked, who expressed interest in a different instrument, he was like, “Sure.” I started in second grade and I’ve stuck with it the entire time. I took lessons for years, and that’s how I kind of got into the classic rock scene. My dad was a huge classic rock fan so he showed me all greats… and that was all I listened to for years. It definitely had a large impact on what I did. I would even play in little recitals, and I always played classic rock songs like AC/DC or Guns N’ Roses.

It wasn’t necessarily a musical household, like my dad isn’t musical, my mom isn’t musical. The reason he wanted us to play an instrument is because his mom made him play an instrument as a kid, so he was like, “You guys get to do that, too.” But it is true, one of us ended up using it.

What do you want people to take away from “Dumped?”

It’s an amp-up song. I want them to feel energized, to be happy with yourself. Getting hurt in relationships happens all the time, but it's okay to get hurt in a relationship. It’s kind of how you bounce back, and I want this song to be like a bounce back. Like, you hear it and, “Oh! This is me bouncing back! I don’t need to sit and cry anymore, because that’s not fun.” Sitting and crying is okay, everyone’s done it, but there’s a point that you reach, in that break-up phase, when the crying needs to stop and you need to go out and live and be the person that you are, independently. So, I would hope that it inspires you to be your independent, wonderful self again.

Is there anything else you would like to say about your music, or in general, that you want to take the chance now to say?

Well, I’m sitting on a lot of songs. So, I’m excited to get all the rest out, and again, everything is so diverse. All the music is so diverse, I just feel like each song is its own thing, which I really enjoy. I feel that’s really unique to my own music, where you’re getting something new every time. I’m moving to LA. That’s the other thing. So, if anyone sees me in LA, please stop me and say hello!

[spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia]

Part 2!:

Suddenly, Ashley B waved a tube of toothpaste. ‘Gotta add some pizzaz to it.’, she explained.

‘...Me and my big mouth.’, Ashley A grumbled, squeezing the tube all over her underwear. Just the thought of doing this made her want to vomit, but if she did, they’d remember what happened to her next to ? and that would make her feel even worse…er.

Finally, having finished the dark deed bestowed upon her, Ashley was led towards the freezer, and with heavy hands and a heavier heart, she laid the drenched undergarments inside, right next to the Eggos.

‘And when my mom finds these tomorrow, I WON’T tell her it was yours. That way, your mom won’t find out. I doubt she’d like that. See? THAT’S how trust works, Ashley. That’s friendship.’, Ashley B explained, while Ashley A stared off into the distance, sitting down on the floor, feeling greatly uncomfortable. Her back was hunched, every vertebrae in her spine shaking with her hurried breath. If she didn’t care for her reputation so much, she would have made a pool of tears to sweep her away forever. ‘What’s the fourth challenge? Is it the last one? Please?’, Ashley A asked, in a voice so quiet it couldn’t even disturb a leaf.

‘Yes. It is.’, Ashley B replied, patting her hair. ‘And then, we’ll finally be Ashley’s again.’

‘I would like that. Very much.’, Ashley A voiced, closing her eyes, banishing all her pained thoughts.

‘Then let’s go back upstairs.’, Ashley B clapped her hands, and the group walked upstairs in solemn silence.

Staring in stunned surprise, Penny slowly broke into a grin. ‘So… Ashley A can be blackmailed…’

Suddenly, she caught a presence in the corner of her eye. Behind her, just now popping by the window, was Mikey, who had run away in shame until he reached Penny. ‘Perfect! He can tell them about my progress, and then the gang will accept me!’, Penny crowed, and she waved to Mikey. Waving was okay, right? Friends did that. Not that they were friends, but still. Penny had never waved to someone, so it was fun. She’d have to do it again another day.

And when Mikey noticed, she was extremely pleased to see him wave back, intrigued by what she may have found…

‘Pleasant day we’re having, huh?’, Gretchen asked, sitting by the living room table on the stiff and hard wooden chair, the brown bars behind her looking like a prison cell, which fit her mood right now. She gave hard and impatient stares to Vince and Spinelli, the duo chewing uncertainly on their trail mix, wondering why Gretchen seemed so stiff suddenly. ‘Want some?’, Vince offered, hoping it was a valuable enough olive branch.

Gretchen shook her head slowly, voice as low and quiet as the mariana trench. ‘Not hungry.’

‘Okay… So, um, wanna get back to your project? It was, um, really interesting!’, Vince tried, while Spinelli nodded a little too enthusiastically. They were hoping to keep searching for some sort of evidence, while Gretchen kept busy with her science work stuff.

Gretchen wasn’t quite in the mood, however. ‘Oh, what’s the rush? I think we can stay here a while, maybe chat about stuff.’, Gretchen voiced, sounding distant and introspective.

‘You think she’s onto us?’, Spinelli whispered, but Vince shook his head. ‘Come on, even she’s not THAT smart.’

‘Idiots.’, Gretchen muttered, making them look up in surprise. ‘Did you say something?’, they both asked, and Gretchen waved them off. ‘No, not at all. So, anyway, what did you think of my room? Pretty interesting, no?’

Vince and Spinelli decided to approach that loaded question carefully. ‘Oh, um, yeah, it’s nice!’, Vince complimented, while Spinelli added ‘Yeah, it’s very… Gretchen-y!’

‘Yeah, it’s nice.’, Gretchen replied, caring more about the trap she was about to set than their thoughts on her room. In fact, she was beginning to care less and less about what they thought. Fiddling with something under the table, Gretchen suddenly whipped out her notebook and handed it to them. ‘Say, could you guys do me a solid and take this upstairs to my room? I really need to use the little scientist’s room, and I wouldn’t want this left just anywhere, you know? It’s VERY important to me.’, she stressed, eying them both with clear “Don’t fuck this up” looks. Then, bending her legs together to sell the performance, she ran upstairs to the bathroom.

Vince and Spinelli eyed this departure, then the book. Gulping, Vince grabbed it, stroking the front cover with burning curiosity. It was plain blue, with only one distinguishing feature, but one that understandably grabbed both his and Spinelli’s attention: A simple inscription of “My Friend, Ashley R”.

‘Well… Better get it upstairs…’, Vince finally said, as he and Spinelli slowly walked upstairs carrying the heavier and heavier journal.

Creak, creak, creak, went the ancient steps, mixing in with the accelerated heartbeats of the two friends. It felt wrong, but…

‘Would it be SO bad if we peaked? Just to make sure everything was legit.’, Vince raised his point, as he and Spinelli pushed the door open.

‘I don’t think it’s so bad. I mean, it’s for a good cause, right? It’s not like we’re breaking her privacy and trust for fun, we’re doing it to make sure our friend’s safe!’, Spinelli reasoned, sitting on the bed, ready to read it.

Vince was still hesitant, trapped between the desk and the bed, notebook in hand. ‘But still… Would we like it the other way around?’

‘Vince, do you want Gretch back or not?’, Spinelli asked, and Vince sighed, knowing exactly what his answer was. ‘More than anything.’

‘Then park your butt over here and crack this bad boy open! I doubt we have that much time until she’s back anyway.’, Spinelli directed, staring back and forth to make sure they were alone.

‘Did you guys say something?’, T.J. asked while he and Gus continued searching through tool boxes in the closet.

‘You’ll see!’, Spinelli cried, and she again patted the bed to get Vince to sit down. Resigned, Vince did so, and the two stared at the book with fearful eyes, as if opening it would melt their faces like in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

‘On the count of 3.’, Vince posited, and Spinelli nodded. They placed their hands on the book, each one on a corner. ‘1…’, Vince counted. ‘2…’, Spinelli added.

A pause.

‘2 and a half…’, they stalled, sweating but determined.

‘3!’, they finally cried, opening it to find…

Nothing.

Nothing but a sheet of yellow note paper, that descended onto the floor.

While Spinelli turned the book upside down, in the hope it would suddenly become full, Vince unfolded the note and gulped. ‘Why… Why is it a giant middle finger?’, he asked Spinelli, who was now smelling the book.

‘Because you just flipped off our friendship.’

Vince and Spinelli gasped and yelped as they turned to the wall to see Gretchen pop out from the space in between, a tiny door now visible. Of course, Gretchen had turned it into a pathway. She was Gretchen.

‘She’s in the walls?!’, was Spinelli’s reaction, while Vince, blushing, was far guilter, riddled with shame. ‘Oh, um, hey, Gretch! We were just, um…

‘Reading my notebook? My private notebook? The one I specifically asked you to just place down?’, Gretchen asked each question like it was a knife stab, as she began marching downstairs in anger. Vince and Spinelli quickly followed, while T.J and Gus, overhearing this, hurried out to help, the closet now a mess of screws. ‘Wait, Gretch, it’s not what it looks like!’, Vince tried to fight the fire, nervously laughing at the mess he landed them in.

‘Really? It looks pretty obvious to me.’, Gretchen didn’t even bother looking back, as she angrily stomped to her door to unlock it.

‘No, see, it’s because… Because…’, Vince kept tripping on his words, the others a little too scared and shocked by how angry Gretchen was to back him up.

‘Because you don’t like my new friend, right?’, Gretchen remarked, ignoring the friendship experiment for a second. She was fiddling with the keys so angrily that she kept missing the one she needed exactly, and it was driving her crazy.

‘Well, um, it’s not that we DON’T like her…’, T.J. began, finally stepping in for Vince.

‘I’m sure she’s lovely!’, Gus added, back to his usual scared self, shaking like his bones did at the mere mention of an Ashley.

‘It’s just that, well, you’ve been acting weird, and…’, Spinelli redirected the convo to their concerns, but Gretchen had NO patience for it this time.

‘So you lied. You lied to me. You pretended you wanted to engage in my hobbies for once in this relationship’s history, only to stab me in the back so you could see if the first person I’ve ever befriended outside of this group was, what, some monster? Because I’m not allowed another friend who perhaps gets me on a level you guys don’t?’, Gretchen raved, shoving the key into the lock and opening the door violently, it slamming onto the wall, plaster cracks crumbling onto the floor.

‘Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?’, Vince asked, insulted. He pointed at her accusingly. ‘We do get you! We’re your best friends!’

‘...Right now? You don’t feel like that.’, Gretchen replied back, demeanor as cold and venomous as a snow serpent.

Vince wanted to argue back. Spinelli definitely wanted to. T.J and Gus wanted to at least keep the peace.

But if they were all honest with themselves, they knew…

They had no legs to stand on.

Meanwhile, the silence caused Gretchen’s anger to twist into heartbreak. Why couldn’t she have both? Why couldn’t she have her friends AND Ashley? Why was she constantly punished for being Gretchen Grundler?

Turning onto herself, quiet and solemn like a psalm, she whispered ‘I think it would be best if you left. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.’

‘Maybe.’, she added, to really drive in how angry she was.

The gang left with their heads hung low, knowing that they had truly fucked up.

Once they were gone and Gretchen closed the door, the genius found herself slowly setting down on the cold floor, not caring for the temperature, as tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. She had no energy to sob, curse, cry or even moan in pain.

She just lay there in silence, a tearstruck corpse in limbo.

And she would have stayed there all day if it weren’t for Ashley M and B.U.D.D.Y finally finding her after getting lost in the kitchen.

‘Doctor Grundler! Doctor Grundler! You are urgently needed elsewhere by one of your trusted allies!’, B.U.D.D.Y voiced, licking Gretchen with her cold metallic tongue. Gretchen, startled awake by her invention working, didn’t know whether to laugh in joy or cry that her only friends seemed to be machines. ‘B.U.D.D.Y! You’re alive!’

‘Yes, Doctor, I am! I have so many questions!’, B.U.D.D.Y enthused, her voice box echoing “pant, pant, pant” as a word over and over. ‘Why am I alive? What is the meaning of the universe? And how come the word Bacon makes my circuits go haywire?’

Gretchen giggled, petting her robot dog, not caring that it didn’t feel like fur. She loved her new pet for who she was, unlike some friends she knew. ‘I’ll explain everything in due course, B.U.D.D.Y!’

Suddenly, Gretchen noticed Ashley M anxiously meowing in the corner, and raised an eyebrow in confusion. ‘Ashley M? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Ashley A at the Annual Ashley Sleepover?’

Ashley M meowed so loudly it nearly broke a lightbulb. Gretchen blocked her ears from the loud sound, while B.U.D.D.Y did her best to translate. ‘Her mama, Ashley A, also known as Exhibit 10 in the “Trusted Allies” section, is in trouble, Doctor!’

‘Trouble? Ashley A?’, Gretchen would never admit it (as it would potentially harm the results of the friendship experiment), but just the thought of Ashley A in trouble with her “friends” made her shoot up like a bullet, desperate to do something, anything. ‘Show me the way! My f… My potential friend needs me!’

Ashley M and B.U.D.D.Y exchanged looks as Gretchen put on a coat and hurried to the Grundler Comet, the two pets trying not to roll their eyes. ‘When you said she was in denial of their friendship, I didn’t realize you meant it so literally.’, B.U.D.D.Y voiced, while Ashley M snickered. ‘Imagine being that blind.’

B.U.D.D.Y then grabbed Ashley M with one of her extend-o paws, and placed her on her back. ‘Hold on tight!’, she ordered, and Ashley M did, trying to ignore how nice it felt to hold.

And, with a flash, the three figures zoomed off into the evening skyline, charging towards Ashley B’s house to help their mutual ally.

It took some effort to remove Penny from the tree after she had chosen to leap out the window rather than just step out of it, but now Mikey could hear what she had managed to obtain as he calmed himself down from betraying Gretchen. Sitting on two lawn chairs that happened to be sprawled out, the duo were alone for the first time ever. Mikey, still breathing slowly into a paper bag, motioned for her to talk.

Penny, grinning, happily regaled Mikey of her adventure. ‘And then, I fell through the ceiling! Onto the middle of the room!’

‘No way!’, Mikey exclaimed, enthralled by the escapade. ‘How did you get away with it?’

‘Well, I saw this giant statue in the middle of the room, so I took a step stool and pretend to be one too! And they bought it!’, Penny proudly pumped herself up, bragging about her achievement.

Mikey was genuinely impressed, and he applauded quietly, so no one would hear them. ‘A truly impressive feat! You’re really good at your job, Penny!’

Penny didn’t really GET compliments, so there was something about just receiving one face value, one that wasn’t followed up with another order, that made her positively crimson. She grinned shyly, not used to such words. ‘Oh, it was nothing… Heh heh…’, she twirled her hair a little, surprised at how happy this made her. She never reacted like that.

Then, remembering her photos, she laid them on the table. ‘Now, unfortunately, I haven’t seen a hint of Ashley R. BUT, I DID get all these pictures of Ashley A doing embarrassing things! I think it could make for great blackmail material!’

Mikey’s face twisted, as if he just sucked on a lemon for 30 minutes straight. He wasn’t a fan of those words. ‘Um, thanks, Penny, but I doubt we’d find much use in those.’, he tried to be gentle, even if he really hated the concept of blackmail photos.

Penny didn’t get it, and she emoted this with a scratch on the head, which made her hair bounce a lot. ‘Why not? Blackmail can be very useful. It gets people to do stuff for you. You know, blackmail? I thought you read books or junk.’

Mikey frowned, fighting back an eye roll. He wasn’t sure what he thought of this Penny, but she made him feel uneasy. ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter.’, he explained, trying to remain cordial. ‘I believe that we can get to the bottom of this mystery without resorting to such barbaric methods.’

‘I swear you guys are so yellow. Don’t spy on Gretchen, Penny, don’t blackmail Ashley A, Penny. I thought you guys were all about breaking the rules!’, Penny complained, mocking Mikey’s protests with a jeering voice. She crossed her arms. ‘You hired me to do what I do best. What I do best is find secrets out, and use them.’

‘Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Not that I would ever do that.’, Mikey shuddered at the thought, before shooting Penny a dirty look.

Penny shot one back. She could never just do a good job. She always had to be critiqued, somehow. ‘Well, at least I’m DOING my job! Why did you even come here again?’

‘Well, let’s see, I didn’t feel great about breaking my friend’s trust? You know, like a normal friend would?’, Mikey pointed out, annoyed at the accusation. ‘Maybe things were different in your old school. But here, we may bend the rules, but not our bonds.’

‘...I hate to admit, but that was a good line. You really do read a lot.’, Penny admitted, sighing. She had to make this work, even if it meant being… Nicer. Ugh. ‘All right, fine. I SUPPOSE I could find another way.’

‘I can help! If you want. I’d much rather do that than hurt Gretchen.’, Mikey proposed, looking upset again. Penny raised an eyebrow in confusion. ‘But wouldn’t that hurt Ashley A?’

‘Oh, she’s a monster, I don’t mind that.’, Mikey waved it off, chuckling, before getting worried again. ‘I am, however, worried about her cousin. Ashley R… Well, she seems pretty important to Gretchen.’

Sensing a potential opening, Penny instantly raised her notepad. ‘How important?’

‘I’m not telling. I swore an oath.’, Mikey crossed his arms, looking away, making a zipping motion with his lips.

‘Drat. Guess I’ll have to squeeze that out of him another day.’, Penny thought, tapping her pencil on her chin.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion from upstairs. ‘Oh, criminey! The fourth challenge! I better check on those Ashley’s!’

As she ran to the other side, Mikey slowly following, Penny saw that the window ledge that led to the window above it (which housed the party) was just out of her tiny reach. Jumping up and down uselessly, she turned around and found to her unpleasant surprise Mikey offering his shoulders.

‘You find this amusing, don’t you?’, Penny commented with a grunt, and Mikey hummed absent mindedly. ‘Maybe.’

Resigned to her fate, Penny climbed his shoulders, and thus reached the window ledge. Climbing from that onto the next one, like a spider with a deadline to spare, she took a risk and opened up the window slightly. Then, even more like a spider, she scrambled onto the top of the bed’s headrest, then hid behind, awaiting any juicy reveals.

Mikey watched all this in transfixed fascination. How the heck did she do that? ‘Gee, sometimes I wish I was that small.’, he thought, unsure what to make of his unlikely ally in the battle to help Gretchen. Now, if only he could talk to Gretchen about Ashley R. He didn’t want to disturb her privacy, but perhaps they could come up with a strategy for how to get the rest of the gang to understand.

Realizing Penny might need an emergency escape ride, Mikey headed back to his home as quickly as he could to fetch his bike, which was well timed.

Because right then, Gretchen, Ashley M and B.U.D.D.Y arrived at the Boulet house to enact their secret mission.

Tossing her helmet off into the air (B.U.D.D.Y stashing it in her storage unit, which happened to be her butt), Gretchen was practically charging into that yard like a knight on a mechanical steed preparing to save her lady fair.

‘Okay, where’s the sleepover? How do we help?’, Gretchen asked, as she looked up to each window, desperately trying to spot a hint of Ashley A, a sliver of her hair or the soothing sound of her laughter.

Ashley M, remembering the room’s position, meowed loudly and bounced at the direction of Ashley B’s bedroom. Gretchen, seeing it, gulped, shaking a little. ‘Leaping Ada Lovelace! How am I gonna get there?’

‘No need, Doctor Grundler! Remember, I have twice the power of a Dog’s sensitive ears! I can hear every word they’re saying!’, B.U.D.D.Y reassured, as she stuck her ear to the house. Ashley M sighed, impressed. ‘The gossip you can hear… Ugh, why can’t you be a boy? And a cat, too?’

And so, Gretchen, B.U.D.D.Y and Ashley M could hear every word of what was transpiring in the room…

‘Ashley Armbruster. So far, you have passed every one of our challenges. You are THIS close to earning our trust back.’, Ashley B ordained from her tea table chair, as she and Q and T sat while Ashley A had to kneel. Still reeling from the previous challenge, Ashley A had to fight as hard as she could to hold back any further tears. ‘They might get angry if I cry. I don’t want anymore trouble.’, she thought, genuinely scared for her safety.

Thankfully, it seemed like Ashley B was finally taking some pity on her. ‘As I said, though, this is the final challenge. Just pass this one task, and all will be well again, and we could finally start our sleepover.’

Ashley A liked the sound of that. She nodded feverishly, now feeling fully prepared for any obstacle. ‘What do you need me to do now? I’ll literally do anything, Ashley B, anything!’

‘Oh, don’t worry, this SHOULD be easy enough.’, Ashley B “reassured”, as she instructed Ashley T and Q to get the landline back towards Ashley A. ‘I want you…’

Ashley A hung over every word, her eyes flitting around in hope and terror. Ashley B saw that, saw her hands shaking, how absolutely weak she appeared…

And she hated how much she loved it.

‘...To call Ashley R, bring her over here, and mock her until she cries.’

Ashley B would never admit it, but seeing Ashley A’s pupils shrink for a moment, as her breath hitched and her heart seemed to crack further, was approaching euphoric. She deserved this, for all her ineptitude. Honestly, it was clear to Ashley B that she should be president regardless of Ashley A’s success at the fourth challenge, but they could cross that bridge when they reached it.

Ashley A, meanwhile, felt like she was falling through space, and there was no Grundler Comet to save her this time. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Dry throat cracking, she managed to wheeze out ‘Ashley R?’

‘Yes, Ashley R. Why, is there a problem, Ashley A? I thought you’d LOVE to make fun of that geek loser cousin of yours, and especially her best friend, Gretchen Grundler.’, Ashley B savored every word, getting off her seat and cupping Ashley A’s chin, as Q and T watched, a little disturbed.

‘I… I…’, Ashley A stuttered, when Ashley B suddenly whispered darkly into her ears, sounding as ravenous as a wildcat. ‘Because, Ashley A, that is what Ashley’s do. And if you’re suddenly against that, then are you really an Ashley?’

Ashley A sighed, knowing when she was beat. What choice did she have? ‘I… I am an Ashley.’, she said, no, begged really, pleading for that fact to remain true.

‘Then prove it. Call Ashley R on this phone and bring her over here.’, Ashley B ordered, as Ashley A slowly neared it.

Back outside, Gretchen, hearing all this from B.U.D.D.Y, panicked, as did Ashley M. ‘She’ll be found out for sure! I gotta do something! The friendship experiment is at stake!’, Gretchen called in alarm, wishing she had some way of perhaps getting the Ashley R costume.

Suddenly, Ashley M got an idea, and she whispered it to B.U.D.D.Y. The robot dog felt a surge of pride to be associated with such a brave creature. ‘You’re a testament to all pets everywhere, Ashley M!’

‘Please, call me Muffin. All my friends do.’, Ashley M insisted, trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks.

Climbing on top of B.U.D.D.Y, Ashley M rose to the sky thanks to the spring legs, and thanks to Penny leaving the window open, the cat was able to sneak into the room and drag Ashley A’s sleeping bag right out!

Penny, so excited by the possibility of Ashley R arriving (thus, getting something substantial and earning the gang’s trust), didn’t even notice the cat walk away with the bag, as she angled herself to snap good pictures of the meeting. Or, well, non meeting. Penny had a sneaky suspicion from Ashley A’s reactions that Ashley R was not perhaps who people thought. ‘And that’s better than any blackmail.’, she snickered mischievously, rubbing her hands in glee, which made her camera bend down then smack her in the face. ‘Ow! My pride!’

Outside, Ashley M posed smugly as she pushed the bag onto B.U.D.D.Y’s back and then rode down with a smirk. ‘You’re welcome.’, she meowed, though obviously Gretchen didn’t know that. Instead, she pet the cat and opened the bag, seeing the Ashley R disguise. Gulping again, she looked up at the window, then down at the look. ‘Well… I guess this is an unexpected test of the friendship experiment. How far I’m willing to go. And apparently…’

She removed her glasses and put on the Ashley R ones, before untying her pigtails and letting her hair flow across her face.

‘I’m willing to go quite far indeed.’

Inside the house, Ashley A was holding the phone, but still shaking, uncertain of her next move. Who would she even call? She couldn’t fool them like Ashley T’s dad. They actually HAD brain cells.

‘Well, Ashley A? We’re WAIIIIITINGGGGG.’, Ashley B berated, tapping her foot impatiently, while Ashley Q and T nodded enthusiastically. ‘Call that loser and get her over here so we can see her cry and junk.’

Ashley A gulped audibly, as she twirled the phone line with her fingers. ‘Okay… Better call my house and hope it fools them.’, Ashley A thought, as she slowly began to dial the numbers.

BOOP! First digit.

BOOP BOOP! Second and third digits.

BOOP, BOOP, BOOP! Fourth, fifth and sixth digits.

BOOP! BOOP! Seventh and eighth digits.

BOOP! Ninth digit.

BO…

Suddenly, flying through the window and smashing onto Ashley A (B.U.D.D.Y was sheepishly apologizing outside for tossing too hard), came none other than…

‘Ashley R?!’, Ashley B cried, shocked and startled by the fast arrival (and perhaps just a little by her presence near Ashley A, when she had the beginnings of a sneaky suspicion about her).

‘Ashley R?!’, Ashley Q and T cringed in disgust, getting on their chairs to avoid her, as if she were a mouse.

‘Ashley R?!’, Penny exclaimed, only to remember she was supposed to be quiet. Making up for it, she whispered ‘Bedhead sounds, bedhead sounds.’, and no one was the wiser, somehow.

‘Yes! It is I! Ashley R!’, Gretchen… That is, “Ashley R”, announced, as she untangled herself from Ashley A, who was now completely confused and out of it. Was she going crazy? Was this a hallucination? How did Ashley R appear?

Meanwhile, “Ashley R” continued introducing herself, hoping it was convincing enough. She wasn’t much for lying, after all, and this was already triggering her anxiety. ‘Yep, Ashley R! That’s my name! Don’t wear it out, ha! Um, anyway, I was just in the neighborhood and I saw this house and thought “Hey, maybe I’ll pop in for a spell and greet my cousin good night”, like I’m sure all good cousins do. I wouldn’t know, I don’t have any… That is, I do, and it’s Ashley A! Yep! Definitely her!’, “Ashley R” lied terribly, hoping against hope that those idiots bought it.

Thankfully, as previously stated, there weren’t many brain cells in the room presently. Ashley B cringed, unable to handle the presence of this total loser, while Q and T still remained safely away atop the chairs. ‘Look, if you’re already here, how about, like, making yourself useful by standing about here so we can all watch you get TOTALLY burned by Ashley A?’

Ashley A, still unpacking what the heck was going on, gasped, hating the idea of making fun of what seemed to be a clone of herself. That is, until “Ashley R” shockingly played along. ‘Oh, sure! If that’s what you’d like… I wouldn’t want you to Gretchley I mean retch… Ly.’, “Ashley R” said while winking at Ashley A, who blinked in confusion, recognizing the nickname. Was that… She squinted, looking at “Ashley R”, and while the other Ashley’s wouldn’t even notice, she knew those hazel eyes anywhere. ‘Gretchy?’, Ashley A whispered, relief forming tears in her eyes, before snapping into action. She realized what the plan was, and she could be eternally grateful later. ‘Oh, yes, um, Hi! Ashley R! Wow, I didn’t realize it was you, did you forget your beater at home and took the cheaper shirt?’, Ashley A insulted, leading to a chorus of laughter from the other Ashley’s. ‘Ha! She DOES dress up like she has no money! Just like Gretchen! Being rich rocks!’

While the girls were distracted high fiving, Ashley A leaned in to “Ashley R’s” face and whispered ‘Sorry, but they wanted me to make fun of you and…’

‘It’s okay, I understand. I know you don’t mean a word of it.’, “Ashley R” smiled reassuringly, and for the first time that evening, Ashley A did feel reassured from a friend of hers smiling. Nodding resolutely, she kept going. ‘Wanna know just HOW much of a LOOOOOSERRRR you are? Let me break it down, geek of the week. You’re a buzzkill at a nerd convention!’, Ashley A pointed at “Ashley R”, wearing a fake mask she once worse as naturally as her skin, a smug and sassy stare full of venom and judgment.

‘Word!’, the other Ashleys cried, clapping and hooting at this display.

Ashley A continued, pacing around like a stand up comic, waving around an imaginary mic. ‘I just clowned you, cruster! I’m not even in my own crib! Like, tone down the freak, girl! Cut. It. Out!’

While the Ashleys laughed again and “Ashley R” rolled her eyes, amazed at how shallow they were, Penny made herself comfortable. She may not have had any evidence, but at least she was gonna have some quality insults if Spinelli bugged her.

Ashley A knew she couldn’t stop there, so she went on, even though the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was insulting herself. ‘Sorry to diss you so much, I’m just fiendin’ for some trust here, you feel me? So maybe if you weren’t hella lame, this wouldn’t be happening. Maybe if you weren’t so stupid as to hang with a different homie, this wouldn’t be happening. Maybe if you weren’t such a fake whack dork, you’d just get to enjoy this sleepover.’

Ashley A grew quieter and quieter, “Ashley R” grew more and more concerned, and the other Ashley’s eyed them curiously. What was this about?

As Ashley A stared at “Ashley R” in true pain, seeing herself and feeling such shame, embarrassment, and resentment, “Ashley R” nodded, motioning her to continue. Because she was willing to do that for her.

The difference was that Ashley A wasn’t forcing her. She didn’t even want to. Her friend was taking a bullet for her, but only because she wanted to help her, not because she was forced to.

And at that moment, Ashley A began to really wonder how fair those challenges were.

‘You’re not my family. You’re not my friend. You ain’t an Ashley. You’re just whatever. So talk to the hand, because this face don’t wanna see your freak ass here.’

Ashley A lost all her energy, all her vigor. She was just angry, but with who, she wasn’t sure anymore. What mattered was that the others were convinced. “Ashley R”, pleased with her work, pretended to cry, and ran downstairs.

‘...I’ll see her out.’, Ashley A mumbled, only to get a round of roaring applause from the other Ashleys. Ashley Q and T hollered and cheered, whistling, while Ashley B smiled her first genuine (well, genuine at Ashley A) smile of the evening. ‘Congratulations, Ashley A! You’ve really outdone yourself! Once you’re upstairs, you can enjoy the sleepover!’

‘I can? Really?’, Ashley A asked, overcome with emotion. Tears stinging her eyes, she bounced up and down in hurrah and hugged Ashley B. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you! I won’t let you down!’

‘You better!’, Ashley B “joked”, and she and Ashley A laughed, before high fiving. Everything was back to normal.

Downstairs, Ashley A quickly unlocked the door for “Ashley R”, who placed her glasses back on. ‘Wow, this stuff gives me a headache.’, Gretchen commented, smiling at Ashley A. ‘But it was worth it to get you out of that jam.’

‘Still, I’m sorry it killed your evening.’, Ashley A apologized, legitimately upset for her friend, despite her watery smile. ‘You were looking forwards to it! I mean, I’m grateful for the save, don’t get me wrong, but that’s literally SOOOO unfair to you, when you really wanted today’s break!’

‘Well, after what I went through, this was somehow the best part of the evening.’, Gretchen admitted, smiling sadly at Ashley. Ashley, almost dismayed, gaped and mumbled out a ‘What… What do you mean?’

‘Let’s just say all our friends drank the jerk juice today. They were trying to find out about us, lying to me about being interested in my hobby. Honestly, I’m kinda pissed. And you know how I get when I’m pissed.’, Gretchen chuckled darkly, happy she could at least vent.

Ashley A, however, was still disturbed and destitute at this news. ‘Oh, Gretchy, that’s literally the worst! Oh, I’m soooo sorry! I can’t even imagine being treated like that by your friends.’

Gretchen tried not to react too strongly. ‘Ash, that’s what your friends just did. They forced you to do things you didn’t want to do, right? That’s what B.U.D.D.Y told me.’

‘Who’s B.U.D.D.Y?’, Ashley A asked, but Gretchen waved her off. ‘Tomorrow. Look, point is, they just made you earn their trust, right? And while it’s true you’re lying to them about us, if they were truly good friends, they would understand you’re allowed friends outside of them. Why did you have to work your way to getting a sleepover? Because you forgot to wear purple ONE time? How’s that okay?’, Gretchen pointed out, before leaving back home on the Grundler Comet.

And those words echoed in Ashley A’s mind all throughout the evening.

And all throughout the things they did.

When they did the usual Ashley Annual Sleepover things (Makeovers, dress up, hair braiding), she couldn’t help but wonder why they made her dress up badly before during Girl talk, instead of it just being a game where EVERYONE agreed to do embarassing things and laugh with each other, not at each other.

When they danced and sang along to their favorite songs, Ashley A couldn’t help but wonder why they couldn’t have just started like this, why they had to keep testing her. She knew she was lying to them, so it didn’t help, but if all they suspected was that she had a secret friend, then… Why not just ask? Why not just find a solution?

When they ate their favorite snacks (Kids cuisines, dunkaroos, bagel bites, fun dip, pop qwiz, spray candy that T specifically liked, crazy dips that Q specifically liked, face twisters sour candy dough that B specifically liked, and finally the creme savors Ashley A had desired all evening), she couldn’t help but wonder… Would Gretchen have made her go through all that? Would Gretchen, if angry, test her that way? Guilt her that way? Wouldn’t they at least try and talk it out, like when she accidentally insulted her lesbian aunts?

When they all played with B’s Polly Pockets, and she proudly showed off the recreations of their houses, Ashley A couldn’t help but feel like her Polly Pocket felt wrong. It wasn’t the truth, after all. There were things, people she liked now that weren’t represented by a perfect pink paragon of poise anymore.

And finally, when they were all in PJ’s, Ashley A had one major thought, one that started when she found the note she had in her pocket all day by mistake, the one that Ashley B wrote once insulting Gretchen. It was a nasty joke about how she was too ugly to even get a girlfriend. Except now, Ashley A knew that some people wanted a girlfriend. And that even if Gretchen was ugly (‘Which she most certaintly wasn’t’), she didn’t deserve to be alone. ‘No one does.’

But, as Ashley A sat with her friends to watch their shows (7th Heaven, Sister, Sister, Baywatch, Dawson’s Creek), she couldn’t help but wonder…

How everyone lied and kept secrets in Dawson’s Creek, but when Ashley A dared keep one tiny one, she wasn’t okay.

How the 7th heaven ep had everyone pressuring Lucy to pick between two loves, when she was never asked who she wanted.

How the Sister, Sister ep showed Tamera trying to join a club, but being forced to do increasingly more embarassng things to get the position. To…

‘To earn their trust.’, Ashley A realized with a soft gasp, as her friends laughed at the end of the episode, and then switched to the Baywatch premiere, which, honestly, had no life lesson for Ashley A, but right now she couldn’t focus on hot lifeguards, as she was realizing something big.

Looking at the note again, then at her friends, Ashley A realized she was sitting far from them, on the bed while they were on the floor. Even now, even after being accepted, she was still feeling apart.

Because… Maybe she was.

Because maybe not forever, but right now…

‘They… They don’t love me. The real me. If I was Ashley R, or even the Ashley A I was just a few hours ago, they’d… They’d kick me out of the sleepover.’

And it was this realization that made Ashley A cry herself to sleep, clutching her sleeping bag for all it was worth.

Clutching the note to her heart.

Thinking, with gritted teeth and clenched fists, about how terribly alone she was.

And begging for forgiveness.

‘God, please, if you’re up there… Please… Make my friends love me again. I… I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to lose the Ashleys.’

But between sniffles, a cold realization settled in her stomach.

That maybe, just maybe…

She already did.

Or, perhaps more accurately…

That they had lost her.

And maybe Gretchen was right, after what she went through.

Maybe they really couldn’t have both.

And perhaps what scared Ashley A even more than that was the other realization:

‘If I had to choose right now… After all this… I’d choose Gretchen.’

She clutched the note harder to her heart.

‘Because Gretchen likes ME. Not the idea of me.’

And unbeknownst to her, only one was aware of the tears.

The crawling away Penny, who had fallen asleep at one point, and now had to go back home.

She saw the girl cry like she had never seen before. These weren’t the tears of a whiny brat, but of a truly broken heart, alone with the shadows of her nightmares.

And if Penny was honest… That was every day of her life.

‘...Focus on the mission.’, Penny repeated to herself, leaving the house and whisking through the night back home.

But deep down in her heart, she was the third girl to grow a shadow of a doubt in her heart about her original allegiances.

And so, Ashley A finally cried herself to sleep.

Waking up the next morning, before everyone else, she was comforted by one thought, one that made her feel warm and cuddly like a teddy bear.

‘Today I see Gretchen. Today I see a friend who’s still my friend.’, she thought, and it shook her how true that was right now. Oh, if only Gretchen could make a potion that made her friends the way they once were!

‘But hey, at least today’s got to be easier, right?’, she thought, slowly sitting up, only to eye the landline and remember who she called on it.

Menlo.

She also had a date.

With Menlo.

‘Son of a…’, Ashley A began, as Ashley M meowed loudly from a “nightmare” about chasing butterflies with B.U.D.D.Y.

And here's the latest chapter of Scandalous Chemistry!:

January 31st, Friday, 1998

Dear Diary,

Well, it’s been a few literally crazy days, huh? Gretchen and I have made buying gum and going on a Spa Date into missions even my darling Pierce Brosnan wouldn’t dare take!

But what matters is that we’re getting closer and closer! I really feel like we hit a breakthrough yesterday! Gretchen actually liked Ashley stuff! Me stuff! You realize what a TOTALLY schway sign this is?? It means that maybe we really could be besties! AAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Of course, there’s still much work to do, especially on my end! I need to prove I can do Gretchen things tomorrow, when I visit her house and we do some science stuff! I’ll admit, I’m… Sort of, kind of, totally, absolutely, literally nervous about it. Like, what if I find it whack? Or worse, what if I’M whack? What if I hurt her feelings again?! Or what if I’m not open minded enough?! I mean, I want to be, and I still think I did a real fabulous job at the museum, but that doesn’t mean I’ll just ace this!

And I really, really want to, dear diary. I already tried to quit Gretchen, and I just can’t! This friendship means too much to me, it’s like Rachel and Ross, just not romantic! Sabrina and Harvey, just not romantic! Charlie and Kirsten, just not romantic! I don’t know why I keep naming romantic relationships, but you know what I mean!

Point is, Gretchy… Means a lot to me. And even though I’m not exactly sure why, I mean a lot to her, it seems. Why else go through all this trouble for me? So I can’t let her down, especially after she tried so hard at the mall! I just need to get into the right mindset. Ooh, I know! I’ll do, like, one of those meditation mantra thingies!

Deep breath… Science. Nerd stuff. Facts. Learning. Experiments. More science. Molecules. Chemistry. Science 2, the sequel. Wait, no, I said science, this is science 3. Science: The Reckoning. No, Science: The Revenge! You didn’t pay attention at science, and this summer, it’s gonna get PHYSICAL. I should tell that one to Gretchen! I bet she’ll laugh! Hopefully that giggle she does, that’s the best one, the one that sounds like she didn’t mean to let it out, SOOOOOOOO aesthetically pleasing!

Whoops, looks like I rambled about Gretchen again! Sorry, dear diary, that’s been happening a lot! Ugh, I’m SOOOOOO lucky I have you, and your 24k golden lock, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to talk about all this Gretchen stuff! If anyone found out what secret soulmates we are, I’d LITERALLY DIE!

‘You never write in your diary on the way to school. What juicy dirt do we have here, and is “Double Your Lunch Money” too low a price for my fellow students?’, Tyler A hissed conspiratorially, grubby little fingers edging towards the book, shifty little eyes locked in on the gossip…

Outraged, Ashley slammed the book on his fingers, making him yelp in pain while she growled like a wolf on her cheat day from a non meat diet stumbling onto houses of stick and straw. ‘Careful, or I’ll add the mark of Cain to my accessories!’

Britney A, busy chewing on the pencil Ashley had accidentally dropped, grunted out a mouthful of ‘Mommy, Ashley is using the bible to make Tyler suffer, can I too?’. She followed her question by slowly and worryingly raising a makeshift cross marked “Tyler”.

Mrs. Armbruster, for her part, laughed all this off as she cruised her 197 Chevrolet C5 Red Corvette down the mainstreet, gazing out of her window at all the appreciative men, winking and biting her lip just to see what she could make them feel. As they all clearly squirmed in overwhelming attraction, she savored it. Power, pure and simple. Even all her wealth couldn’t buy the power that came with her galaxy spanning confidence. ‘That’s rich, girls! Like me! Tyler, reading a woman’s diary is a sin as despicable as Judas, so if you don’t want me to take away your Tamagotchi…’

‘I’ll be good.’ Tyler muttered, afraid and pissed at his sisters getting away with that. Ashley sniffed importantly, heedless of his suffering. She had far more pressing matters. Speaking of… ‘Oh, mommy, by the way, this week’s sleepover is at Ashley B’s. Would you, like, be able to drive me there? I’m afraid the last few days have totally exhausted me. Tyler?’, she lent out a hand, and the boy begrudgingly handed her a cherry yogurt.

Mrs. Armbruster didn’t look back as she answered, and perhaps it was that mystery that helped coat her real tone. ‘Oh, sorry, junior, but I’m literally SOOOO busy! I have more meetings than the number of dreamy boys on Dawson’s Creek!’

‘Dang, that’s a lot of meetings.’, Ashley A whispered to herself, feeling a little guilty. Gretchen would probably have told her now something about how busy her parents could be, so even trying to picture how busy her own mother was was just… Well, impossible! ‘Oh, aiite, I’m, like, sorry, mommy, I didn’t know.’

‘Now, now, Ashley, don’t fret! There’s a long time until you’re running Armbruster Reality!’, Ashley A Sr. strategically placed pressure onto her daughter’s shoulders, wondering if she was closer to her written out destiny yet. Her ears perked up, not dissimilar to the wolf I mentioned before.

Ashley A, meanwhile, gulped audibly, the concept hitting her like a truck, as it always did. The responsibility of the Armbruster name was entrusted on her shoulders, as the eldest child of the CEO of the biggest real estate business in the Philadelphia Tri-State area. What was she gonna do, let her friends run it? Or worse, Tyler?

But it didn’t make her feel any better when she pictured it: Her, wearing furs like her mother, smoking rings and laughing haughtily at business meetings, selling housing and insurance like a real smooth talker. Could she really live up to such a legacy, when she was befriending a freak… A non-Ashley type behind her family’s back?

Still, she couldn’t let them down. Putting on a brave face, Ashley saluted firmly. ‘WHEN I run it, I’ll be sure to remember that!’

Mrs. Armbruster grinned, giddy at the thought of an early retirement. ‘That’s bangin’ to hear, Ashley! I’ll be sure to tell your father to pick you up when I’m done flossin’ my new mini skirt suit and metallic heels! Like, they’re gonna be the next big trend, you just watch!’

That seemed reasonable to Ashley, so she smiled gratefully, happy that her mother could find the time to tell her father to do what she clearly had no time to do. ‘Business comes first, after all.’, Ashley repeated a worn out family statement, nodding gently, as she slowly glanced down at the photographs she had hidden in her diary, photos she was going to hide in her locker when she arrived.

The booth photos of her and Gretchen.

Thumb stroking the one with soft smiles, she felt a bittersweet pang explode into a brilliant kaleidoscope of uncertainty in her heart. ‘Am I a real Ashley and Armbruster anymore? It’s been so long since I truly enjoyed my old company.’

As the car purred to a stop next to the school, Ashley tried to swallow the lump in her throat and wear a brave face. ‘Today is vital. Today is the day I prove I can have my cake and eat it too. Take that, Thomas, Duke of Norfolk!’

A few minutes later, the first test came, as she opened up her locker to hide the photos.

Ashley’s locker was, well, it was just what you’d expect by now, reading Chapter 24 (excluding Author’s notes): It had all the beauty treatments she could have needed, from a mirror to hairspray to hair mascara to nail polish to lipstick to lip gloss, not to mention eyeshadow; hair bows, ribbons, accessories and clothes replacements if a quick change was needed (or she just felt like spicing it up); glitter stickers, glitter pens, glitter anything, for extra sparkle; pink fuzz all over (including the outside), making it a comfy place to rest her head if needed; liner notes of her favorite Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys songs; an amount of Lisa Frank stickers even Gretchen couldn’t probably count, featuring all her favorite animals in puking glorious rainbow colors; Some of her favorite notes from her friends (mostly some great Ashley B and Q zingers about the gang, which in retrospect, she might have regretted. Was there one of Gretchen? She’d check in a moment); Bath and Body Warm Vanilla Sugar (to smell extra Ashley); Her special backpack (equipped with a million other items, and most importantly, Bear Spice, her teddy); Pink scrunchies (if she ever felt like some sort of pony tail, not that she had the hair for it, or the need, but still); and most importantly, posters and pictures, of all the things and people she loved most: Her and Ashley T belting out Mariah Carey on her karaoke machine; her and Ashley Q giggling like crazy after prank calling some loser (probably Gus or Sue Bob); her and Ashley B strutting on a pretend runway, showing off their designer purses and cool sunglasses. There were also photos of her favorite celebs and shows: Dawson’s Creek, Party of Five, Baywatch, Friends, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Hello Kitty, The Lion King, Hercules, Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys, Leo Dicaprio, Katie Winselt, etc. etc. etc.

No wonder Prickly’s budget was always in the red, when four girls got to have such mega sized lockers.

But there was a new addition, one Ashley A was now installing in secret, whilst searching through her notes for an insult directed at Gretchen. Photos of said girl and her, photos that would expose their lie, unless people fell for the excuse “Oh these are for my cousin, her locker isn’t allowed to have photos in it”.

Her hands were quivering alongside her heart, but she couldn’t help but smile when she stared at the photos, placed below a poster of Simba, Timon and Pumba and next to liner notes to “Anywhere For You” by the Backstreet Boys and a heart shaped necklace. You’d miss it if you didn’t look too deeply, thankfully. Ashley stared at it, like a secret in the middle of her personal paradise, and she couldn’t help but sigh longingly, tiny hearts floating above her. ‘It would literally be so fly if I could have 4 BFF’s…’, she mused in hushed excitement, only to suddenly hear the other Ashleys approaching. Shutting her locker quickly, Ashley whistled the theme to “Dawson’s Creek”, hoping her friends didn’t notice the note in her hands.

‘Ooh, Ashley A, you just gave me a great idea! We should TOTALLY rewatch the second episode of “Dawson’s Creek”!’, Ashley T proposed, sighing wistfully as she thought of all the scandalous moments with the girls in the cast… And the boys that were there too, absolutely, but mostly the girls, which didn’t mean anything, shh. She opened her locker, which was packed to the brim with all her Barbie toys, CD’s, and pictures of Ashley Q. Ashley T had decided to place photos of her fellow Ashley’s once a week, but always forgot to replace the Ashley Q ones. Not that she minded. ‘They’re… Aesthetically pleasing. Why fix what ain’t broke, ya know?’, she lied to herself, as she hummed the wedding march just for kicks.

Ashley Q, quickly opening and closing her locket, lest anyone see her basketball posters and memorabilia among the makeup and magazines, nodded in agreement. ‘And you know what, I think we should also rewatch the latest “Sister, Sister” episode! Since “Baywatch” is the only premiere tonight.’, she suggested, as she painted her nails black and orange, not considering what that hinted at. If she did, it would be too much to bear. This was just a passing fad of hers, nothing more. Just like that time she enjoyed kickball. And just like the time she “got stuck” watching the World Series final game. And just like the time she accidentally attended a Hockey game instead of a figure skating show. And just like the time she only wanted to watch the Super Bowl for the commercials but ended up watching the whole thing. That stuff happens by accident all the time. Totally. Absolutely. Surely.

Unaware of how deep in her comrades were, Ashley B continued their conversation. ‘Seeing as it’s my turn to host, I grant official approval to those ideas, AND to rewatching the latest “7th Heaven” too. I think that will make for quite the adequate preamble to my little… Plan for this Annual Ashley Sleepover.’, B grinned like a cheshire cat as she finger tented like she was an evil yellow octogenarian nuclear mogul.

Ashley Q and T, aware of the plan, both winked at Ashley B, except the former also said ‘Wink!’ while winking and the latter leaned on her locker and then fell, making it open and drop countless photos of Ashley Q. ‘Oh, I’m so clumsy, gosh I have no idea how I got so many of these…’, she muttered, picking them up and hoping her face wasn’t turning to a tomato. ‘Soooooooo out of season.’

Ashley A, totally oblivious to all this, just like how she was totally oblivious to any romantic attraction for or from spectacled geeky girls named Gretchen, simply nodded happily and added ‘Oh, and maybe we can also rewatch the “Sabrina” episode, I thought it was SO funny and…’

‘Yes, we’ll see, anyway, as I was saying, I have many special plans for tonight’s festivities. So many that I do believe we’ll have to skip our “Clueless” viewing…’, Ashley B pretended to be upset (which wasn’t hard, she DID love seeing that movie too), but deep down she knew it was important. She didn’t care if Ashley A’s own mother was sure nothing was wrong, she couldn’t shake the feeling, and she couldn’t truly love her best friend if she didn’t know her best friend was to be trusted.

Ashley A, confused and miffed (‘Gretchen would have at least let me finish my sentence’), held up a finger in questioning. ‘But… But we ALWAYS watch “Clueless”! And besides, the others got to choose episodes…’

‘Ashley A, please. Why get so hung up on semantics when we can get hung up on all the cute boys at Gym? It’s Dodgeball day after all, and I bet they’re all going to be GLI-STEN-ING! Woo!’, Ashley B cried, startling Ashley A. She wasn’t usually THAT boy crazy. Was this just a lie to get something out of her?

‘Look at yourself, Ashley A! So used to lying to your friends, you just assume they are! I wanted to get Gretchen, not lose my other world too! Snap out of it and play along! If you need to make a sacrifice or two, then make them! That’s what FRIENDS do!’, she thought, feeling pretty proud of her dedication. She knew the other Ashley’s would do the same.

Once she left, Ashley Q and T tilted their heads at Ashley B. ‘Hey, um, you never said anything about not watching “Clueless”...’, they both said at the same time.

‘Girls, girls, please… This is for the greater good of the Ashleys! Clearly, something is up with our supposed leader. Maybe it’s nothing that important, but I want to know! None of us want a repeat of “Purple Day”, am I right?’, Ashley B reminded, and the girls nodded resolutely, terrified of such an occurrence.

‘Exactly. So a few small sacrifices are nothing compared to finding out once and for all if Ashley A still deserves to be an Ashley! And we will, once our night of games commences…’, Ashley B snickered evilly.

The 3 all chanted ‘Scandalous!’, but they couldn’t help but feel like one less voice made one big impact…

 

‘Randal!!!!!’, The bellow echoed across the school halls, akin to the shout of an elder god cursing the heavens. Every student at school pricked up, except for The Gang, who were sitting pretty in the cafeteria, enjoying the success of another plan. ‘Goodbye, “Tomato Surprise”, hello, free ice cream!’, T.J. smirked as he happily licked his strawberry flavored popsicle. The rest of the gang all enjoyed chocolate ones, but one was a little less into it than usual. ‘Guys, don’t you think that was a little… Too easy? Where’s Randal slinking his way towards Ms. Finster?’, Gretchen commented, her chocolate popsicle melting over the table. ‘You don’t mind if…’, Mikey started asking, and Gretchen simply handed him the popsicle, which was gone in seconds.

‘Gretch, did that Ashley R steal your ears or somethin’? She’s chewing out Randal! Lucky.’, Spinelli muttered, at that moment the only person in the world wishing she could trade places with the old woman. She bit aggressively into her popsicle, as if it was Randal.

Right on cue, Randal raced past the cafeteria and towards Ms. Finster’s office, looking like he was on death row. The Gang sassily waved him goodbye, minus Mikey (who was a little too nice for that) and Gretchen (who was still kind of suspicious). Finishing her note taking about yesterday’s successful experiment segment (and scrapbooking her copy of the booth photos into the journal), Gretchen sighed and mumbled ‘I’m just saying… Literally sooo suspicious.’

The Gang, eyes as wide as the flying saucers they were sure had abducted Gretchen’s brain, all blinked rapidly and rubbed said eyes. ‘Um, Gretch? Did you say what I think you said?’, Vince asked, seriously lost. Gretchen, as red as her 6th favorite planet, coughed violently and fanned her forehead. ‘Oh, I was just, um… Mocking the Ashleys! Yes! I’m sure Spinelli would approve of such banter and frivolity!’

Spinelli chuckled and fired her finger guns. ‘Finally, some sense!’

‘Yep! Anyway, look at the time! Gym any minute! I can’t wait to get my butt kicked! Physical education, truly the finest of subjects! No offense, Vincent.’, Gretchen reassured, Vince nodding. ‘It’s cool. We’ll catch up with you!’

Once Gretchen was out of earshot, Vince turned worried again, eyeing T.J. with impatient concern. ‘What is going on, Teej? Since when does Gretchen mock anyone?’

‘Hey, are we really not gonna celebrate that our resident geek’s got taste? Now if I could just get her to pound Randal just once!’, Spinelli rubbed her hands in glee, but T.J. was agreeing with Vince. ‘It’s definitely weird, but maybe that’s what happens when you hang out with Ashley R! An Ashley’s still an Ashley!’

‘Well, you know what I think?’, Gus started, sounding surprisingly serious and strategic, as he straightened his glasses. ‘I think that we’re approaching this all wrong. If Gretchen won’t just tell us about Ashley R, she must have a good reason. Let’s be honest: What does that girl have that none of us do?’

‘Fat stacks of cash?’, T.J. asked, rubbing two fingers together like he was a smarmy salesman.

‘Jordans?’, Vince asked, sighing enviously.

‘A passionate and spiritual bond that transcends our simple, prehistoric understanding of companionship? Um, that is, wavy hair?’, Mikey nearly let slip, dreamily imagining his dear friend expressing her true self.

‘The name Ashley? No, wait, that’s my name. Um… Her school! She goes to another school!’, Spinelli snapped her fingers, and the rest all nodded in agreement. ‘Oh, I think she’s on to something!’

Gus, startled, shook his head vehemently. ‘Guys, come on! Look, what’s Gretchen’s DEFINING characteristic?’

‘Excellent hacker for heists?’, T.J. proposed.

‘She’s gigantic!’, Spinelli enthused, half impressed, half envious.

‘Her bleeding heart, the soul of a poet!’, Mikey expressed, appreciative of his friend as ever.

‘Everything…’, Vince drawled, giggling a bit, only to recover and blurt out ‘Um, that is, glasses, she has glasses!’

This time, Gus rolled his eyes AND face palmed. ‘Oh my gosh, guys, SHE’S INTO SCIENCE!’

‘Oh, yeah…’, the rest of the gang slowly nodded, remembering.

‘And… Who else is into science?’, Gus encouraged them, his hands motioning them to come to his conclusion.

25 straight seconds passed until T.J. slapped the desk excitedly. ‘Bill Nye!’

‘ASHLEY R! ASHLEY R IS! DUH!’, Gus shouted, only to take a few calming breaths and sit down in his seat again. ‘Sorry. What I mean is, none of us ever really take an interest in Gretchen’s hobbies! We barely helped her out with that telescope for the eclipse a few weeks ago!’

‘Weeks? That feels like a year and a half almost…’, Mikey mused, but the gang simply continued. ‘Okay, and?’, T.J. asked, unused to Gus coming up with the plan, but intrigued all the same.

‘Well, maybe that’s what Gretch’s been so secretive lately! Ashley R allows her to express a side of herself that she can’t with us! Maybe if we showed her that she can, she’d explain to us what’s been going on, and we can put this whole stupid thing behind us!’, Gus excitedly pitched, nearly falling from the seat he was now standing on, only to be caught by Mikey, who smiled at him and shook his head. ‘So close yet so far…’, Mikey thought to himself.

‘Okay, but how? Do we go to her house and do… Science stuff?’, Spinelli voiced, confused at the proposition.

‘Basically, yeah.’, Gus replied, proud of his plan, eyes closed in satisfaction.

‘I guess that could work…’, T.J. slowly muttered, considering it. ‘I mean, anything to help out Gretchen, no?’

‘Absolutely!’, Vince and Spinelli roared in approval, while Mikey sighed, wishing they’d move on from this arc and onto the “Gretchen being cute with her girlfriend” arc. ‘What’s it gonna take for me to see some romance in this place?’, he thought, only for thundering footsteps to be heard, as Penny Bly breathlessly reached them, hair looking all out of place. ‘Thank god I caught up with you! I just saw Gretchen walking towards the gym, and I wanted to know if you want me to spy on her! Normally I wouldn’t ask, but then I thought you guys would be all high and mighty and say…’

‘No, Penny. Like we told you yesterday, we don’t want to spy on Gretchen again.’, T.J. rejected her offer with clear disdain, while Spinelli prepared her fist. Penny gulped, shaking instinctually.

‘But…’, Vince lifted a finger, smirking mischievously. ‘Ooh, a Vince plan! Hit me, buddy!’, T.J. enthused, intrigued by what Vince had to offer.

‘Well, you know, the Ashley’s Annual Sleepover is this Friday.’

‘Yeah, they never shut up about it.’, Spinelli grunted, clenching her fist harder.

‘Yeah, and remember who Ashley R is related to? Ashley A! Despite all our investigating, we still don’t know if we can trust that girl, or if she’s being forced to work for her jerk of a cousin! I’m still not ruling out “Ashley brainwashing”.’, Vince explained, crossing his arms in annoyance. How DARE they touch his… Their Gretchen.

Penny, loving this idea, nodded like a bobblehead and pointed at Vince with her pen. ‘Yes, yes! Excellent thinking, LaSalle! There’s more than one web in this twisted tale of treachery!’

‘Now, we don’t know if it’s treachery…’, Mikey reminded, worried for his friend’s secret. That Penny seemed hellbent on discovering such things. He had no idea if she was the ethical kind of journalist!

‘Treachery or not, we need to know.’, T.J. insisted, and with a curt nod shared with Vince, he turned towards Penny. ‘If you really want to help us out, then go to the Ashley’s sleepover and get all the information you can. Then, we’ll trust you.’

Saluting, Penny slinked back into the shadows. ‘You got it, Detweiller! Penny Bly, out!’

Reaching towards the vents, she crawled in and left them in silence.

‘...Yeah, that’s Library Kid’s big sister all right.’, they all finally commented, continuing to enjoy their ice cream.

 

Later, at the gym, the kids were sorted into two separate teams for Dodgeball (coach’s favorite torture method).

But whenever have Ashley A and Gretchen let the rules get in their way?

(Mortal Kombat Movie Theme)

‘Ugh, I can’t believe Dodgeball is mandatory, even for us Ashleys.’, Ashley A groaned in frustration as she screamed and ducked from a ball, her custom made pink gym clothes already covered in sweat from that little physical exertion. ‘Eww! I don’t get what Ashley B likes about this stuff, I feel like I got slimed by crying mangos!’

‘That might be the grossest thing I’ve heard in my life.’, Gretchen replied, wearing a simple white jersey with a sweatband and shorts. She looked about as out of place as the music sounded. ‘Well, that and this song. Miyamoto above, Mortal Kombat is a blithering bane of banality.’

‘Yes, I totally know what that means.’, Ashley replied with an eyebrow raise, prompting Gretchen to sigh. ‘Curse my superior vocabulary. Let me translate to Ashley: Talk to the hand because I’d rather play Pat a Cake with Ms. Finster and Randal.’

Ashley shivered, getting the message. ‘That’s gonna haunt my nightmares.’, she then scratched her head in confusion. ‘But isn’t that, like, a video game? I thought you liked those!’

Gretchen shook her head as she just about leaned to the side to avoid an oncoming ball, that struck Upside Down girl and brought her right side up. ‘I don’t like EVERY video game! I mean, do you like every Ashley thing?’

Ashley had to admit she had a point. ‘Not… Anymore.’, she muttered, realization sinking in, as a ball came towards her. ‘Ashley, six o’clock!’, Gretchen cried, and Ashley giggled, shaking her head at Gretchen. ‘Silly Gretchy, it’s just after one o’clock!’

Groaning, Gretchen grabbed Ashley and pulled her down, the ball sailing over and knocking Randal out cold. ‘Nice.’, Gretchen and Ashley both whispered, with the former taking off her glasses. ‘Careful, they can’t see us together. Here, take mine and pretend you’re Ashley R.’

Ashley nodded and took the glasses, now seeing nothing. ‘But how are you going to see the balls coming?’

‘Use your ears and listen.’, Gretchen instructed, and Ashley did so. Hearing a whistle, she pushed Gretchen to the left and held out her hands in hope, grabbing the ball.

The coach whistled, smirking. ‘Nice catch, Ashley A! Oh, wait, you’re the one with the glasses, Ashley R! Nice catch, Ashley R! Hey, where did Ashley A go?’

Ashley and Gretchen gulped, only for Ashley B of all people to come to their rescue. ‘She must have DODGED this lesson! Ha! That’s more like it! A point in her favor.’, Ashley B marked it down in a notebook, having allowed herself to be eliminated first so she could lie down on the bench and get pampered by an army of boys crushing on her. ‘Keep fanning, I’m exhausted from all this physical education!’

Ashley and Gretchen sighed in relief, then got up and kept on dodging. ‘Your left! Wow, look at us, huh? We’re a real team!’, Ashley cried, and Gretchen ducked, hurting her knee on the floor. As she wheezed, she brought Ashley down, crying ‘Duck!’, then nodded. ‘Yeah. All it takes is listening.’

Ashley pouted, feeling heavy all of a sudden. ‘If only it could always be, like, literally that simple.’

‘I mean, it is. It’s dodgeball. It’s pretty whomping stupid. Why else do you think Coach likes it?’, Gretchen explained, feeling like that was pretty obvious.

Ashley, however, pressed on with her fears. ‘No, Gretchen, I mean… Ugh, never mind, okay?’. She crossed her arms, while Gretchen helped her up and slapped a ball away from her face. ‘Take two steps to the right. Now, what’s up?’

‘What do you mean, what’s up? The ceiling?’, Ashley said with a hint of edge, but Gretchen ignored it and stepped closer to her, only for Ashley to push her back. ‘Ball your way.’, she explained, and Gretchen ducked again. ‘Well, Ashley… Quick, jump up. Well, because you always pout and cross your arms when you’re REALLY upset. And your whole body gets all heavy, you lose all your ridiculous amounts of energy. I don’t need glasses to tell by now.’

Ashley sighed, jumping over a ball. ‘Okay, you got me. I can’t lie to you. Just like I can’t… Oh, wait, come over here. Just like I can’t lie to myself. I’m worried about the Annual Ashley Sleepover today.’

‘Is it because it’s at Ashley B’s? I concur, that’s like stepping into the lion’s den.’, Gretchen agreed, as the two made a chain with their hands and pulled each other back and forth depending on where the ball was.

‘Well, that doesn’t help, but it’s more than that, Gretchy! I just… I think The Ashley’s are STILL suspicious I’m frontin’, even after yesterday! And worse, Ashley B still seems really down to frown at me! This party’s supposed to be off the hook as always, but I’m worried it’s gonna be lame! Lame because somehow we’re STILL not the way we used to be and all that!’, Ashley explained, spiraling further into a teary rant. She could feel her eyes begin to water. Any minute and she’d tarnish Gretchen’s glasses with her stupid selfish feelings.

Gretchen, sympathetic despite her own problems, tried to offer a silver lining. ‘Now, now, let’s not short circuit, Ash! Maybe you’re just being paranoid! It’s been a while since you felt truly comfortable with The Ashleys, just like my friends and I! Maybe we need to use this break from the friendship experiment to reaffirm our old friendships too! After all, it’s not like we’re only gonna rendezvous with each other!’

‘That’s true…’, Ashley admitted, slapping a ball away from Gretchen. ‘Plus, I’m kinda fiendin’ for the B household grindage. She can bulk order Kid Cuisine and Bagel Bites! My dad at least insists on cooking once in a while, her parents don’t care!’

‘I’ll admit, that sounds more concerning for her family situation than cool, but hey, whatever floats your boat.’, Gretchen smirked, dipping her away from the ball. ‘See? You’re already excited! Plus, I bet you can gossip and watch TV and, um, compare nails? Whatever you girls do at a sleepover.’

‘Heh, heh, we compare nail polish, Gretchen, not nails! But you’ll learn that soon enough next week…’, Ashley smirked, and Gretchen gulped. ‘Don’t remind me. I’ll have less stressful trips to the surgeon's room.’

Ashley giggled, and instantly, Gretchen felt better. She hated seeing Ashley like this. Their friendship wasn’t supposed to ruin all the other ones! As they rose up, she squeezed her hand in solidarity. ‘We both need this. Let’s make the best of it, huh? No need to get all worried about lies and cover stories and whatnot. Just you, me, and our old friends. Except, you know, we’re not gonna see each other, but you get it.’

‘Which is a shame! I have to wait a WHOLE day to see this secret project of yours? How did you even get any work on that this week?’, Ashley grinned, impressed, and Gretchen couldn’t help but brag a little, enjoying the attention. ‘Oh, I have my ways, Ms. Richter.’

Ashley’s grin slowly shifted into a grateful smile. She squeezed back. ‘You’re right. I’m literally overthinking this. I’ll just take a chill pill and raise the roof in that crunk. And you do the same, girlfriend! Live up that unpopular life! I wanna hear all about how happy your loser… I mean, cool friends make you!’

‘Now there’s the Ashley I know! Blindly optimistic in front of the rules of physics!’, Gretchen cracked, though she also smiled appreciatively at Ashley’s words. She really hoped this would work, she missed her friends and wanted a break from lying to them. Ashley nudged her. ‘The rules of physics ain’t got nothing on Gretchley!’

‘Gretchley?’, Gretchen questioned, confused. Ashley was quick to explain. ‘It’s like, our names together! Gretchen plus Ashley, Gretchley!’

‘Ah, like a team thing?’, Gretchen nodded, understanding. ‘Yeah!’, Ashley explained, happy Gretchen was accepting it. ‘Where’d you get that from? I never heard of that.’, Gretchen asked, curious. ‘Oh, I heard someone use it for those two from that dumb X-Files thing, I thought it was cute!’

Gretchen, well aware of what that term now meant, decided that dying in a gymnasium from being given a shipping name by her totally platonic friend would not be ideal for her plans that weekend, and so, just pretended she didn’t hear anything. Suddenly, they heard Gus cry out next to them ‘Stop holding hands and move aside, rookies!’. As the duo blushed a little at how long they held hands, Gus rose up and spiked a ball right towards Ashley Q, who was busy talking to Ashley T and spiking it back without looking. Gus roared to the song’s tune and hit back, and Ashley Q responded with another strike back. The two hit the ball back and forth over and over while the rest of the gym just stared in confusion at this unlikely final, outside of Ashley T and Cornchip Girl, who were very much enjoying the spectacle. ‘What a man!’, Cornchip Girl fanned herself. Ashley T covered Barbshley’s eyes. ‘Lord forgive me for my unholy thoughts, I’m just… Practicing for when boys… Do that. Gulp.’

‘...Yeah, perhaps we’d all benefit from a break.’, Gretchen voiced, as Ashley nodded. ‘Damn, skippy.’

 

Later that day, before the sleepover but after school, Ashley B had much to arrange at her house.

So she sat in her bed and had Menlo do it.

‘Did you arrange last minute details on the landline?’, Ashley B asked with her back to Menlo, busy arranging something.

‘Yes, Ashley B…’, Menlo started, frustrated as he climbed up the stairs, only to be interrupted by Ashley B, who chided him like a mother. ‘Ap, ap, ap!’

‘...Yes, President Ashley.’, Menlo gagged out, shivering like he just said a forbidden word. ‘What would my dear Ashley A think?’

‘Ashley A better get used to it like you. Because even if she DOES prove herself today, I am far more fit for the presidency. I don’t need to constantly prove I can be trusted.’, Ashley B reminded, still fiddling with something Menlo couldn’t see.

As he sighed and placed spice girl plates full of creme savors, face twisters sour candy dough, crazy dips, spray candy, fun dip and pop qwiz down on Ashley B’s mega tea party set (pink table, chairs, saucers, etc.), he couldn’t help but voice a niggling question that bothered every wrinkle of his brain. ‘...Why?’

‘Why? Why what?’, Ashley B asked absent mindedly, getting her special fit for the party ready and trying out each accessory in front of her personal mirror. She was going to out glamor Ashley A or die trying.

‘Why does she have to prove herself?’, Menlo asked, arranging the Cosmopolitans by date. He was STILL Menlo. ‘Didn’t she already do so? I remember you were pleased with how she handled the project with Gretchen, not to mention you wouldn’t stop bragging about how your Annual Ashley Sleepover two weeks ago was the best one ever. Why does she need to prove herself again?’

‘You mean, besides the fact that you were dressed like her in her room?’, Ashley B’s reply was laced with impatience and venom, and Menlo instantly regretted protesting in Ashley’s defense, but B still provided an answer. ‘You can deny it all you want, Menlo. Something is up with her. I don’t know what, and maybe yesterday was a fluke. But I’m a lot smarter than people think. I’m second in command for a reason.’

Suddenly, Ashley B’s father and mother, both pacing back and forth outside the room, constantly yapping on their phones about work meetings, looked into the room for a moment. ‘We’ll be out all night, Armbruster Reality first quarter planning sessions. Brittney and Tyler are with friends. You’re fine on your own, right?’

Before Ashley B could answer, the parents took it as a yes and began to depart. As if possessed, Ashley B suddenly raced towards them and blocked their way to the stairs. ‘Hey, um… What do you think of my new look? For the party? Pretty fly, huh?’

‘It’s great, Ashley.’, they remarked, marching downstairs like two robots on the run. The echo was obscene, ringing across the practical mansion of a house like volcanic eruptions. Everything in the house was remarkably clean, shiny, pristine and untouched. The dinner table didn’t even have chairs next to it, and there was a disturbing lack of family photos. To all intents and purposes, this was a ghost family. Here, Ashley B held no position. The Ashleys clubhouse was different. There, you’d know Ashley B existed.

Ashley B stood there for a moment, fists clenched so violently you could have sworn she’d explode, before marching back into her room and to her other project: a huge Polly Pocket collection with 4 specific houses that bore striking resemblances to her and the Ashleys. ‘...I’m second in command for a reason.’, she repeated, as if under a spell, and Menlo wasn’t sure if pressing on was wise, so he decided not to.

They worked a little more in silence, while Ashley B focused specifically on her and Ashley A’s lockets, positioning the two little dolls next to each other. ‘Ashley A, I know you must be fed up with me by now. I’m sure you think I’m some… Some power hungry scrub. But I’ve worked SOOO hard to get to where I am, to earn my place on the Ashleys, and it’s all thanks to you. You held me to high standards and got the best out of me. I’m just… Returning the favor.’

In Ashley B’s mind, she was truly doing the right thing. In Ashley B’s heart, she felt a void, a void not filled since Purple Day. Call it best friend intuition, but she knew that Ashley A was… Different. Perhaps that different wasn’t a bad thing. Perhaps she was just going through some… Phase!

But phase or not, understandable or not, even if she came across like some greedy, selfish bitch, Ashley B knew that one fact reigned supreme, one fact made her life worth it, made this big empty house worth it, made this big empty family worth it…

‘Ashleys literally before all.’, Ashley B whispered, as she stared in hopeful desperation at her notebook, taping Ashley A’s doll onto it as a prison till she proved worthy of escaping, stuck underneath a headline simply titled “Ashley Trials”.

 

‘So, to recap…’, Penny asked, jotting words down a mile a minute like she was faster than the speed of light. One could tell writing was a passion, alongside sneaking around for a story. One would have thought Penny had tickets to Disneyland. ‘While you 5 go to Gretchen’s to work your “Special Interest theory”...’

‘I prefer Operation: Hobby-steria, but you do you.’, T.J. commented, leaning on a street lamp. The kids were in the middle of the street, with the orange afternoon sun casting shadows all over them. It was like a scene out of a shady western.

‘I will shadow the Ashleys to the party and listen in to the whole thing with my “toys”...’, Penny chuckled conspiratorially, revealing her bugs and lockpicks. She wiggled them around her fingers like a yo-yo.

Mikey sighed, clearly doubtful about this plan. ‘Isn’t this worryingly similar to what Richard Nixon did?’

‘Didn’t he do the V-sign? That means peace, that’s good, no?’, Spinelli asked, missing the point. ‘Yeah, I’m not a crook!’, T.J. impersonated, making her laugh and nudge him.

Mikey sighed, emotions swirling around his stomach, as he clutched it. ‘It just don’t feel right. Not even to the Ashleys. It’s one thing to spy on them when we know they’re doing something wrong, but they’re just having a sleepover! We don’t even know if Ashley R will be there! Plus, she sounded, um, quite trustworthy!’

‘And what makes you think that?’, Vince asked, crossing his arms. ‘Where’s your evidence, man?’

‘That’s what I gay, I mean say, okay?’, Mikey protested, holding his real reasons back as much as he can. ‘Big Guy, I get it, honest, but sometimes you gotta bend the rules a bit for your friends! Think of all the times we’ve broken school rules! This is for Gretchen, not for ice cream or balls!’, Gus reminded, patting his friend’s back. ‘I know that, Little Guy, but…’, Mikey protested again, before Penny (desperate to keep the operation going) grabbed his hand and tightened it hard, like a handshake of life or death importance. ‘Mikey, look at me.’

Mikey did, and he was startled by the steely determination in Penny’s eyes, mixed in with something curiously innocent, the moral code of a well meaning child. ‘There’s nothing I value more than exposing the truth. If Ashley R is innocent, then I will see to it that your friends come to terms with that fact. But if something is afoot, I will sniff it out with no discrimination.’

Something about the promise felt true and genuine, and despite his brain’s worries, his gut feeling told him that deep down, Penny could be trusted. With a slight nod, Mikey allowed her to try. ‘Okay. I’ll trust you, Penny.’

Penny nearly opened her mouth when hearing her name, but stopped herself. With a salute, she squirreled away, riding on a bicycle towards Ashley B’s house.

And with a curt nod shared, the gang began walking over to Gretchen’s house, hoping to finally crack the mystery of her heart.

 

Ashley had never understood the term “Butterflies in my stomach”. First of all, how did they get there? They only lived for one day! Secondly, butterflies were too cute to ever be somewhere as gross as the human body!

Most importantly, Ashley didn’t get nervous. Nerves were for losers with no class or style. An Ashley had to control every room she walked in, to be the center of attention. You couldn’t do that if you were afraid of said attention!

And yet, for the first time in her life, Ashley felt this strange and worrying sensation, as her father drove her ever closer to Ashley B’s house. It was almost 17:00, and the sun was beginning to set. Soon, all of the town would be bathed in the inky night, except for the Annual Ashley Sleepover, that would only be cast with shadows of deception.

Ashley hated this nervous feeling, it felt so… UnAshley. This was supposed to be fun, like Gretchen had said. She looked forward to all the activities they’d be up to. What was wrong? What was off?

Mr. Armbruster, overhearing her small, nearly imperceptible whimpers of concern, smirked and made his voice deeper to sound like he was landing a plane. ‘Um… Attention, passengers, this is your, urrrrr, captain speaking… On your left you can see houses featuring background characters no one cares about… ummm… On your right you can see the Boulet residence, our final destination, where you’ll find the lovely Ashley Armbruster situated for tonight. Make sure to fawn over her and maybe you’ll be blessed with a smidge of her beauty.’

Ashley perked up, and couldn’t help but smile, rolling her eyes affectionately. Her daddy was always finding silly ways to make her smile. Usually she didn’t pay much attention to it, but now? Now it was worth its weight in gold.

Opening her car door and slinking out like a cat (fittingly enough, considering who was napping in her backpack), Ashley turned back to her father, who had lowered the window for her to speak, and with a voice uncharacteristically quiet, whispered ‘Thanks for driving me, daddy.’

A simple sentence, really. Ridiculously simple. And it spoke to the problematic Armbruster family dynamic that such a phrase was so very rarely heard.

But for Xavier (who was doggone tired from a long day at work, and was unfortunately going to have to drive back for the first quarter meeting), those words worked better than any cup of coffee.

‘You enjoy yourself, princess, okay? These are the best years of your life, with the bestest friends you’ll ever have. Live it up for me, will ya?’, he asked, softly, and Ashley nodded, even giving him a little kiss on the forehead.

Waving goodbye (as did sleepy Ashley M from the backpack), Ashley A took a deep breath and stared up at the Boulet mansion, a green two story house with trees as far as the eye could see. It was so large and imposing, you could only just about see the beginnings of the moon hide behind the shed. Ashley thought of what Gretchen and her father said, and determined to make the most of it, stepped onto the patio and rang the doorbell, that echoed like church bells on mass. Dingggg, donggggg, dinggggg, donggggg… Dinggggg, donggggg, dinggggg, dongggggg…’

So enamored she was with the sound that Ashley didn’t notice the door open, until Ashley B cleared her throat loudly, eyes glazing in annoyance.

Ashley, startled by the sudden sound, jumped, as did Ashley M from out the backpack, landing on the girl’s head, both laughing nervously. ‘Heh, heh… Sorry, Ashley, I was just distracted by your door bell. It sounded SOOOOOOO nice!’, she tried complimenting, sure that it was a very adult thing to compliment.

Ashley B, however, simply got more annoyed. ‘I’ve had that doorbell my entire life.’

‘...Just goes to show how much taste you had even as a baby!’, Ashley A tried to save, her smile growing more and more awkward, as she swung her fist from one side to the other to emphasize the taste.

Ashley B sighed, shaking her head. ‘WhatEVER. Let’s just get this party started, girl.’

Taking this as an invitation to enter, Ashley wiped her shoes on the mat (just in case) and strolled in, amazed as always by how wide and all encompassing Ashley B’s house was. To her, it looked like a palace out of a fairytale, the white decor nearly blinding.

So was Ashley B’s ensemble: Alongside an absolutely sparkling honey yellow dress with bumblebee earrings, she was sporting pretty butterfly clips in her hair, shiny black platform shoes that made her seem taller than any of the Ashleys, and a sequined belt that glimmered like 500 suns encrusted with diamonds. Ashley had to block her eyes at first, so taken aback by the look. ‘Like, shut up, girl! You look LITERALLY Milano! Literally!’

‘Thank you, thank you. It is quite the SCANDALOUS look.’, Ashley B took the praise, but focused back on her mission immediately. She could value the praise later. ‘Now, until Ashley Q and Ashley T arrive, make yourself comfortable, treat yourself to our state of the art Diet Coke fountain.’

Ashley gawked at the fountain, a new addition to B’s reportraire. She happily scooped up some with a ready glass engraved with Ashley B’s face, and savored the flavor, making happy humming noises. ‘That’s SO yummy! I think I can taste my dentist’s disapproval!’

‘15% more industrial. We Boulet’s have high standards. It’s how one survives in this cutthroat business.’, B explained with a smug grin, stabbing a barbie kitchen knife onto the table (the knife falling flatly on the side). Smirking, she whispered to the still drinking Ashley ‘Make the most of this rest, A. My plans are gonna make this an unforgettable sleepover, and you need to be at your peak Ashley performance.’

This gave Ashley pause, and she stopped drinking greedily to voice her concerns. ‘Um, yeah, like, about that? I was wondering… What ARE those plans? I’m sure they’re TOTALLY schway, but you know, a girl likes to be prepared.’

Ashley B grinned maliciously, sending a shiver down Ashley A’s spine. ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out. But don’t worry…’, she remarked, as she left the table and looked back menacingly, snapping her fingers. ‘A proper Ashley would pass this with her eyes closed.’

With that, Ashley B retreated to the kitchen to prepare some things, while Ashley A now found herself very small and alone in the gigantic living room, surrounded by a whole lot of white nothingness, and a diet coke fountain that was suddenly less enticing.

As if to answer her scared shaking, Ashley M climbed out of the backpack and meowed at Ashley A, who bit her lip in fear and whispered like she was hiding from a monster. ‘Ashley M, baby, listen: I think Ashley B is trying to prove my loyalty again. We don’t know what she’s capable of, and honestly… I don’t know if I can do it alone.’

Ashley M instantly saluted, ready to help, and Ashley A smiled slightly and rubbed her head in appreciation. ‘Thank you, Muffin.’

Shifting into a serious stare, the two conspiratorially planned their survival. ‘Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll take on her silly game, while you warn me each time of what’s gonna happen. If you think it’s too much for me too handle, or you see me struggle, then rush over to Gretchen’s house. It isn’t far from here, thankfully.’

Ashley M nodded curtly, and sneakily prowled towards the kitchen, ready to find out what Ashley B’s twisted mind was concocting.

Ashley A, meanwhile, took another swig of diet coke, feeling the total opposite of relaxed and “living it up”. ‘I knew this was a bad week to quit.’, she voiced, taking a bubblegum cigar and puffing on it as if it were a real one.

 

‘So, are we all clear on the plan?’, Gus asked, still surprisingly in charge, as the gang marched down the street, Gretchen’s house in their sights. Opening the fence and letting everyone through first, Mikey nodded, albeit reluctantly. ‘Oh, I’m clear. We’re emotionally manipulating Gretchen by feigning interest in her area of expertise, you know, something she’s probably been secretly hoping for for years.’

‘I’d word it a lil nicer…’, T.J. remarked, struggling to deny that that was what it was in a nutshell. Pure motivation or not, they were still using dirty tactics. Was this a new thing for them? No, no it wasn’t. But it was hard not to at least feel a bittersweet taste to the whole sordid affair.

‘I’d word it “necessary”. If we’re Gretchen’s friends, then we have to do everything in our power to find out if something is wrong with her. If she won’t be straight with us, why should we be straight with her?’, Vince countered while stepping across Gus to take the closest spot to the door, his words oddly prophetic all things considered.

‘Guys, are we still debating this? We all agreed Gretchen’s been acting all coco for coco puffs lately! We absolutely HAVE to investigate this! If that means a little acting, so what, big deal! Gretchen would know that it came from a good place.’, Spinelli doubled down, looking back for a moment. She was expecting Randall to pop up, but he wasn’t there… Yet.

Mikey sighed and rolled his eyes, displeased with his friends activity, but too non confrontational to go any further in protest. He stuck to a simple crossing of his arms. ‘I’m just saying, what if Gretchen wants to keep this private?’

‘Why? You know anything?’, Vince asked, suspicious of his friend suddenly, raising an eyebrow and staring him right in the eyes. Mikey averted his gaze, worried his cover would break.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded, and everyone turned to Gus, who shook his head at them, steely and serious. ‘Guys, focus! We’re here to help a friend, not turn on each other!’

Vince eased up, instantly filling with shame. Why had he jumped like that? ‘Sorry, Mikey.’, he said, leaving the rest unspoken.

Mikey didn’t need to hear it. He simply nodded. ‘It’s cool, Vince.’

Everyone now prime and ready, Gus flashed a thumb’s up and knocked on the door.

Gretchen, who had spotted them earlier from her window, was already at the door, grinning from ear to ear. It had been a while since anyone had seen her THAT happy, at least, anyone whose name didn’t start with A and end with Shley Armbruster/Richter. ‘Greetings, friends!’, she beamed, her feet beginning to descend to the yard below. ‘What’s on the agenda? Did you bring your frisbee, Vince? Because I was considering some modifications to soup it up a little for you! I read this fascinating article in Metal and Wood about how the likelier a head injury, the more fun one has…’, the scientist ranted, only to be stopped by Spinelli, who shook her head.

Confused, Gretchen swiveled her head back to T.J, who elbowed Gus, reminding him it was his plan. Gus, suddenly shrinking a little, attempted to cough out the pitch. ‘Oh, um… Well, you see, Gretchen, the gang and I were just thinking about, um…’, he trailed off, and realizing he needed help, T.J stepped in. ‘About HOW we do all kinds of things, but we don’t really do YOU things, you know?’. Gus, relieved, nodded enthusiastically, subtly fist bumping T.J. ‘Yes, exactly, that! You things!’

‘Me things?’, Gretchen tilted her head, confused at first, only to understand, as she snapped her fingers and clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, of course! You mean my scientific endeavors, right?’

Vince, who was smiling a little too hard, flashed a thumb’s up. ‘Uh huh! I mean, you’re part of the gang, right? We’re supposed to respect every group member’s interests! I personally think that it’s really, um, wizard, how you’re a woman of science and stuff.’

Gretchen blinked at that adjective, long enough for Spinelli to push her back into the house. ‘So why not show us that ol’ lab of yours, huh? Any cool projects you got going on? Any that involve violence? Because that would actually be intere…’, she began, only for T.J to shake his head violently, making Spinelli stutter and rephrase. ‘That is, um, that would be… Surprising! Since you’re not really that cool VIOLENT… I meant violent!’

Gretchen shrugged, confused. ‘Since when are you this obsessed with hurting people?’

‘I haven’t given Randall a good beatdown in ages, okay? I’m in withdrawal, gimmie a break.’, Spinelli explained, shuffling her feet. Perhaps she was just feeling a lil bad about lying. This was so much easier on TV, when it was obvious who was the good guy and bad guy. Why couldn’t life be more like WWF?

Moving on from that, Gretchen stared at the gang, who were all smiling widely, except for Mikey, who just seemed kinda down, and bit her lip, uncertain at this odd display. ‘Since when do they care? They don’t really find my gadgeteering interesting. Not that I’m complaining, but this is sort of out of the blue.’, she thought, measuring the possibilities, only to remember her own advice for Ashley. ‘What am I, a hypocrite? My friends are being nice, and here I am, suspecting the worst! Especially after all the lying I have done, what place do I have to consider other motives? No, no, I said I’d have fun, and I will!’

Playing up the part a little to truly get into it, Gretchen put on a big smile again (just with more effort needed) and waved onto the stairs. ‘I’d be honored to share my latest works with my dearest companions! Free admission, just try not to ruin the carpet!’

Making up the rear of the group, Gretchen’s smile grew a little more genuine. ‘I sure hope Ashley’s getting this lucky!’

 

Meanwhile, outside of Ashley B’s house…

(to the tune of “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Edvard Grieg)

Penny Bly, armed head to teeth with notebooks, cameras, lockpicks and chicken liver and onion omelets (hey, a person gets hungry) crawling from one bush to the next, from one tree branch to the next, sang aloud to a theme song she cooked up for herself just a few hours earlier, as she got closer and closer to her target destination:

“I was born to chase a lead,

I’m a sly, sneaky stead.

Except I’m not a horse

But you must know what I mean!

At the paper office, yes

Where I work, but I digress

I expose, dirty lies,

That harm democracy!

Call me smarmy, call me snitch,

Call me a dirty, rotten bi…Stitch

Cool it, dude, I’ve got the ‘tude to blow up this whole sitch!

So I’m slimy, all alone,

I’ll be read, tome to tome

I’ll win ya over, like Augustus won over Rome (I’m smart, see?)

Love isn’t shared, it’s earned

Got no wings? Just twist and turn

Be the one to spoil the fun and laugh as it all burns!

This is it, this my chance, this my moment to entrance

Fear the truth? No, Fear the sleuth

Penny’s gonna dance!

Fear the truth, no, fear the sleuth,

Penny’s gonna danceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

And just as she finished singing, she swung from one branch, missed the next, and smacked into the mirror, smearing over it as Ashley A drank her diet coke sadly.

Despite the pain, she still managed to cheer for herself. ‘Yay… Penny’s number one, baby…’

Fainting onto the ground, Penny quickly got up and set up her spy equipment, starting off with a simple listen in from the window. ‘Let’s see what our sound quality is like…’, she muttered, straining her ears. Unfortunately, she could barely make up any words, unless Ashley A had had a stroke, of course, and had said ‘Flicka bliga smagga wagga ding dong’.

‘I guess it’s not very… Sound.’, Penny joked, suddenly pushing a button on her boombox, which played a laugh track. ‘I told her it was a SOUND investment!’, she quipped again, pushing the button once more. ‘Yep, worth every PENNY.’, she joked one last time, before slapping herself with a hand puppet made of mops. ‘Penny, this is serious! Focus on your mission!’, she imitated a gruff voice, before saluting. ‘Aye aye, captain.’, she narrowed her eyes, and tiptoed towards the other side of the house, searching for a ladder to climb onto the window.

While she did that, the two other Ashley’s finally arrived from very different car atmospheres: Ashley T was sent off with a drawing of a rabbit’s foot, her mother buried knee deep in astrology magazines while her father kept turning the key the wrong way to stop the car. As she simply rolled her eyes at her parents interesting interpretation of human thought, stepping off carefully so as to not get any mud on her sea foam green dress (she was told to dress very importantly for the challenges), she took note of the other arriving car, hoping it was Ashley Q being fashionably late too. It would make them similar, and for reasons Ashley T just couldn’t yet truly comprehend, that would make her giggly for the rest of the evening.

Ashley Q had nothing to feel giggly about, however. As she unbuckled her seatbelt, the cold metal momentarily sending a chill through her palm, she felt nothing out of the ordinary. After all, this was the sensation she felt every second spent with these people. Her father, a rigid wall of muscle that couldn’t be moved by Zeus himself, slowly parked the car and refused to turn his face to her, as did her mother, who was about the most elegant and esteemed company one could hope for, akin to meeting a nymph. Ashley Q had to take people’s words for it.

‘...Well, I’ll be going…’, Ashley Q started, only for her father to do that gruff cough which meant “Listen up, child”, and so, she reluctantly froze, awaiting the inevitable scolding.

Her mother started, still refusing to turn, the shadows of their “concern” the only visual spared for Ashley Q. ‘You spend far too much time partaking in such trivial pursuits, daughter.’

‘Quite.’ her father agreed, gripping the steering wheel like it was made of play-do. ‘You’re a growing girl. You need to start thinking of your future in Armbruster Reality. COO is a serious position. It requires commitment and effort. Qualities you lack in spades.’

Ashley Q bit her lip. This was no unusual thing. In fact, if Ashley T ever let herself notice the girl’s lips more, she would have noticed the scar that had developed by now from years of biting. Opting not to speak, Ashley Q simply nodded.

‘Tomorrow, we expect you up for a tour at 5:30 sharp.’, Mrs. Quinlan coldly stated, Mr. Quinlan nodding slightly.

Ashley Q balked at this, however, her fighting spirit unable not to protest. ‘Ah… What? It’s Saturday tomorrow! And Armbruster Reality doesn’t open until 8:00!’

The death grip her hand suddenly received made her bite her tongue this time instead, drawing just a spot of blood. There was no light behind the eyes that stared her down, but that wasn’t news to Ashley Q. ‘We can always drive home.’, her father “gently threatened”, and Ashley Q shook her head, fear flaring up in every hair on her body. ‘I… Don’t know what came over me, father. I’ll follow your orders.’

‘You better.’, was the chilling response.

Stumbling out of the car, Ashley Q nearly ruined her sky blue dress, the wet grass in Ashley B’s yard shedding dew tears onto the hems. She breathed deeply, trying to ignore how they ignored her by leaving without so much as a goodbye.

Suddenly, she felt the presence of a hand in front of her face, which instinctually made her flinch, until she realized whose hand it was. Soft and sweet, a chocolate milk brown swirl that was as natural and soothing as mother earth’s proudest lands. But it wasn’t natural enough… It wasn’t the way things were meant to be…

Ashley Q reluctantly took the hand, and did everything she could to ignore the electric sparks bursting from every fingertip shared with Ashley T. If she did notice, she would burn like a forest fire, and then perhaps no one, not even her parents, could douse her down to reality.

‘Literally schway evening, huh, Ashley Q? Perfect for an Annual Ashley Sleepover!’, Ashley T cheerfully greeted, unable to contain her joy at seeing the ginger trendsetter.

Ashley Q, unable to uncontain her joy at seeing the bashful brunette, directed all her resentment and frustrations at Ashley A, the girl ruining her one escape from life. ‘That depends on Ashley A, doesn’t it?’

Ashley T gulped, nodding quietly. ‘I’m sure B’s plan will work.’

Ashley Q would have liked to be certain. But right now, she was experiencing the only thing worse than falling into hell: Falling into hell and not knowing if there’s a level below.

‘Come on. Let’s make sure B’s just paranoid.’, Q expressed, and she and T silently walked towards the house, hands begging to touch again but ripped away by the nature of their forms.

‘Dingggg, donggggg, dinggggg, donggggg… Dinggggg, donggggg, dinggggg, dongggggg…’

The door was swiftly opened, but not by Ashley B. It was instead Ashley A, who beamed uncontrollably at her friends, a necessary lighthouse in the storm that was building in her mind’s eye. ‘Girls! SOOOOOO schway to see you! Totes da bomb! Ooh, you are lookin’ hella fine! No one told me there was gonna be a dress code.’, she enthused, then chuckled in embarrassment, feeling very out of place in her casual “Hello Kitty” pink Tee and comfortable brown skirt. Was this not a slumber party?

Ashley Q ignored her spiel, walking right past her to talk to Ashley B in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Ashley T offered her an awkward smile, knowing full well what was about to happen. ‘Yeah, um, it’s just part of Ashley B’s plans!’

‘Ashley B seems really excited about all this. You think it’s gonna be our best crunk of the year so far?’, Ashley A asked excitedly, eyes sparkling, and Ashley T decided to let her have this moment at least. ‘Yeah, I’m… Literally sure.’, she lied, hoping against hope that Ashley B was wrong, since she already wanted to apologize to Ashley A for all that was about to transpire.

Alas, it was too late. Out of the kitchen stepped Ashley B and Q (the former signaling T to join), the three Ashley’s now looking quite a bit more… Important than Ashley A, who was feeling sillier and sillier just in her casual clothes. It didn’t help that B’s mansion was so enormous, with wide open spaces. It was as if the far away walls wouldn’t even close on Ashley, so unimportant she was.

Standing in a row in front of her, the three Ashley’s slowly raised a CD player and put on “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls. Ashley A would normally have instantly begun dancing to the hypnotic beat, but she could feel that this was a solemn moment, and stood still, growing increasingly anxious about all this pomp and circumstance.

‘Ashley Armbruster the second, present yourself to the rest of the club, please.’, Ashley B commanded, voice brimming with authority. For a moment, Ashley A had thought her own mother was speaking. Walking up to the three, she awkwardly presented her clothes and sheepishly grinned. ‘Um, present! Not as… Prim and proper as I’d prefer, but…’

‘Ap, ap, ap.’, Ashley B silenced her with a finger to the lips, before snapping her fingers to order B and T around. The duo snapped (ha) into action and raced to the side cabinet, which had the landline phone atop its white and green doily, and by the sunflower vase. While they did this (well, Ashley Q did, Ashley T was already gasping for air), Ashley B stared down at Ashley A, and while the former was the same height as the latter, somehow, Ashley A felt like a dwarf next to her.

‘You must be wondering what all this is about, aren’t you?’, B whispered, perhaps enjoying this position of power a little too much. Ashley A definitely thought it was odd how much fun B was having when all she had done so far was act weird, but she decided to play along. It wasn’t like she had a clue what was going on, anyway. ‘Totally.’, Ashley replied, hand reaching out towards a recently laid bowl of creme savors.

B slapped her hand away, making A gasp and kiss her pain away. ‘Owie! What was that for?!’, Ashley protested, startled at the attack. ‘That’s not very stylish, or…’

‘On the contrary, dear Ashley! This is all ABOUT beauty, style, and attitude! Specifically, yours!’, Ashley B explained loudly and enthusiastically, waving an umbrella around like a cane as the landline phone was placed next to the slightly less confused fashionista. She was starting to realize what was going on.

‘Oh no… Are you still… Unsure of my loyalty to the Ashley’s?’, Ashley A asked, tears stinging her eyes. Half because they didn’t trust her… Half because she knew they truly couldn’t.

‘Oh, it’s FAR more complicated than that!’, Ashley B seemed to reassure, which made Ashley feel better. She really didn’t wanna stain the gorgeous cashmere carpet with her tears. B put an arm around her, allowing her just a little bit of human contact before the trials began. ‘You see, we just think that an organization like ours should be extra sure after a SCANDALOUS disaster such as “Purple Day”, don’t you, Ashley A?’

Ashley A gulped, unable to deny the concept proposed by B. ‘I… I suppose…’, she stuttered, fingers shaking in fear. Wasn’t this supposed to be just a fun lil sleepover?

As if to answer her question, Ashley B continued speaking of the plan. ‘Now, now, we’ll get to the fun parts soon enough, I promise. After all, if you have nothing to hide, truly, then this should be a walk in the park, no?’

Ashley A again had to agree with B, and she nodded obediently. Only problem was she DID have something to hide. ‘But, um, if I may… What makes you think that… That I still need to prove myself? I kinda thought I already did.’, Ashley nervously laughed, wishing this was a dream, wishing she could just wake up and it was Purple Day again and she could start all over…

‘I don’t think you need to!’, Ashley T spoke up, only to get death glares from B and Q. Yiping, she contradicted herself, nodding her head and shaking her hands. ‘That is, um, I’m like the judge of a hot boy contest featuring the Backstreet Boys: Undecided!’

B explained her reasoning, as the phone cabinet wheeled closer and closer to A. ‘Oh, it’s VERY simple, Ashley. We DO want to believe you, but there are still a few odd loose ends that make us want to be extra sure. You know how high our standards are. We cannot afford any weak points, can we?’

Once more, Ashley A agreed, ignoring how terrible she felt inside. She wasn’t weak, she just liked Gretchen, that’s all! She could be both! ‘I can be both, damn it!’, she thought, but B had an ace in the hole to make sure she complied with the challenges.

‘Besides, just yesterday we were all quite surprised when we walked into your room and found Menlo playing the dollar store version of you.’, B hissed in her ear, and now Ashley A knew she had no choice. She had to do this, she had to pass this, or else her friends wouldn’t love her anymore!

‘...I have nothing to hide. I’m an Ashley, through and true. Like, talk to the hand, because this girl ain’t leavin’ anywhere!’, Ashley pumped herself up, hoping it would at least lower some of the pressure.

Ashley B certainly seemed to deem it an acceptable answer, glare noticeably lowering a bit. Nodding at Q and T, the two finally handed the phone to Ashley A, who was confused. ‘So, um, do you want me to order pizza, or…’, Ashley started, making everyone laugh. ‘I see your humor hasn’t been lost, at least.’, Ashley B grinned, shaking her head. ‘Of course we’d give you a harder challenge than that! Plus, don’t you remember what we use the landline for?’

Ashley A’s eyes glinted as she flashed back to the picture of her and Q in her locker, realizing what they were implying. Despite herself, a small sinister smile grew. She was STILL Ashley A, after all. ‘Oh, you want me to prank call someone? Wow, like, that’s literally soooooooo funny! You really had me going, guys! I could do this in my sleep!’, Ashley bragged, spinning the receiver like a plate in a circus. Eyes closed confidently, she whistled as she hovered over the numbers (of course, she had memorized every phone number in her class). ‘So, like, who are we gonna mess with? Sue Bob? Cornchip Girl? Oh, oh, how about we do Spinelli? It’s been ages, and she really isn’t that smart, after all, unlike me.’, Ashley A cockily sniggered, slipping back into bad habits. Perhaps it was the relief. This WAS going to be the usual Ashley business, and in a way, she missed it a little. Plus, she wasn’t actually hurting anyone she liked (like Gretchen) or was culpable in her recent deceptions, like…

‘Menlo. I think Menlo would be a FABULOUS candidate, don’t you, Ashley Q?’, Ashley B’s smirk could have peeled off the paint on every wall. Ashley Q nodded, adding ‘Literally the best freak for the job, isn’t he, Ashley T?’. Ashley T, still a little guilty about all this, flashed two thumbs ups and hoped those sufficed as an agreement.

Ashley A’s heart dropped like an elevator allergic to heights. The color drained from her cheeks and lips. Somewhere out there, her mother was tutting in disappointment, sensing her genes tainted by slightly less attractive fellow members.

Pointing at the phone weakly, mouth so dry she could just about cough out the letters, she wheezed ‘M…Menlo?’

‘Yes, M…Menlo!’, Ashley B mocked, earning a snide laugh from Ashley Q and a forced one by Ashley T. The de facto leader tapped the numbers for Ashley A, who had frozen for some reason. ‘Why not? Menlo isn’t exactly winning any popularity contests with us. He’s not exactly a cover star on “Seventeen”, is he?’

Ashley A obviously agreed, but her hesitation came from a different area. ‘I just mean, do we HAVE to? He’s such an EASY target! Like, BO-RING ville called, they want your target, heh heh. Why not go for someone far less vital to my plans I MEAN BORING like, um… Gelman!’, Ashley tried, but B sneered. ‘No one CARES about Gelman, Ashley A!’

Somewhere out there, Gelman cried into his pillow again. But he’s not important to the story, so we move.

Patting her shoulder with glistening honey nails, Ashley B buzzed around Ashley A, pestering her to go on. ‘Come on, Ashley A, this is in your BLOOD. I thought you said we had nothing to worry about? I thought you said you’re full Ashley, all the time?’

‘I am, I am!’, Ashley A insisted, getting a little angry for a moment. Just because she liked Gretchen didn’t make her any less of an Ashley.

‘Then it shouldn’t be hard to prank Menlo, right?’, Ashley B posited, and Ashley A, after a moment, nodded resolutely. Not like she liked him, after all. Plus, what did she have to do? Tell him she might let him carry her books if he did something menial like her homework?

But as she began dialing the numbers, Ashley B chose this inopportune time to call the challenge, in order to REALLY test her allegiance. ‘It’s SOOOO simple, Ashley A! You just have to call Menlo and flirt with him and ask him out for tomorrow!’

Ashley A could have died on the spot. In fact, she might have for a moment. She was sure she could see a bright light, and a bearded figure scratch his head, going ‘Hey, you’re not due another 90 something years!’

When she shook her head back to reality, she found herself growing even paler (unfortunately, she couldn’t enjoy how that matched her nightwear). Gulping, Ashley A tried to find some sort of excuse to get out of this for now, just to plan ahead a bit, but by the time she swallowed the lump in her throat, the voice on the other line responded. ‘Menlo residence, Menlo speaking. Files filed, numbers sorted, misdemeanors alphabetized. Would you like me to write down a message?’

Ashley B snickered evilly, rubbing her hands in glee. ‘Oh, this is perfect! He’s SUCH a dweeb! Come on, Ashley A, clown him!’

Ashley Q nodded vehemently, desperate to see someone who wasn’t herself suffer right now, while Ashley T kept herself busy with the spray candy (which definitely didn’t tick off the hungry Ashley A).

Ashley A gripped the receiver, stuck between a rock and a hard place. She didn’t like Menlo, not one bit. He was weird, a little creepy sometimes, and definitely far too obsessed. He was also a dry, boring, lifeless loser with no style, who unlike Gretchen, was also kind of a jerk to others. Hadn’t he worked with Randall one time?

But Menlo had never ACTUALLY hurt her. Never went too far, never forcibly held her hand, never took no for a yes. He was in love, yes, but he wasn’t a stalker, nor a harasser. At worst, he had flirted a lil much. Plus, he had actually helped her out with this whole mess. He hadn’t ratted her out, too, apparently.

‘But none of that matters right now, does it? Right now it’s pranking Menlo… Or losing the Ashley’s.’, Ashley A realized, and if she was honest, there wasn’t much thought needed after that.

Still, her hand shook as she answered the phone. ‘Like, um, hi, Menlo! Sup, you fine… Thing you?’, Ashley sputtered out, already feeling noxious just saying such things to Menlo. Why couldn’t he be a different boy, like… ‘Well, I’m on the spot, I’m sure I could think of someone else later.’, Ashley muttered to herself in denial.

‘Ashley? Ashley A? Is that you? My, you sure sound different! You almost sound glad to talk to me!’, Menlo replied, making the other Ashley’s laugh. Ashley A uneasily joined them, but slower, less inclined to. ‘I was sure you’d be angry after…’

Ashley, panicking, interrupted him with an alarmed and all too loud ‘Moi? Angry? You straight? I’m just fiendin’ to yap to a… Handsome guy such as yourself.’ It was ridiculously hard to say all that, but Ashley figured it was like removing a bandaid. The faster she got it done, the faster she could finish crying.

‘Are you okay? You’ve never called me handsome before. Not that I’m complaining! Just… I was kinda starting to lose hope that you’d ever like me.’, Menlo sadly recounted his earlier feelings, making Ashley want to bite something. ‘You’re telling me I was THIS close to ditchin’ your whack ass… I mean, um, heh heh, of course not! In fact, this entire, um, experience outside of the Ashley’s has made me realize how it’s time I took the next step and, you know… Found a boy toy to call my own.’, she cringed at every syllable, eyes pleading Ashley B to cut her torment, but Ashley B mouthed ‘Go on’, and so, she did.

‘And you’re telling me because…’, Menlo asked, confused. You could hear his eyebrow raise all the way from there. Ashley A face palmed, groaning in anguish, nails scratching her cheeks by accident. This was like nails on a chalkboard! Why couldn’t this idiot just get it so this could END?!

‘Ha ha… Yes, well, you see, when a girl calls a boy and tells him she’s down for some dating action, that usually means something, feel me?’, she muttered through gritted teeth, whispering ‘GET. A. HINT.’

‘...Oh, I think I get it!’, Menlo announced, prompting more laughter. Ashley, sighing in relief, smiled tiredly at Menlo, after what felt like the longest conversation of her life. ‘Yay me. That’s a relief. Thank you, Menlo.’

‘You want ME to find a suitable boyfriend for you! I’ll admit, I wish I was a candidate, but I commend both your cold efficiency and your initiative! After all, I know everything about everyone in school!’, Menlo congratulated her, already sifting through heavy sounding folders that smacked down on his desk like bombs. ‘Let’s see, Lawson’s available, as is King Bob if you wanna try an older boy. Oh, T.J., that could be pretty spicy!’

Ashley’s heart pounded like a tin drummer, and her eyes set on fire. If tone of voice could kill, Menlo and his entire block would be six feet under. ‘NO, YOU LAME ASS CRUSTER! I WASN’T ASKING YOU TO FIND ME A BOYFRIEND, YOU WHACK FART KNOCKER!! I, ASHLEY AMBRUSTER JR., AM ASKING YOU, TAYLOR MENLO, IF YOU’LL BE SMART ENOUGH TO BOUNCE WITH ME FOR SOME ICE CREAM, ON THE REAL! NO PSYCHE! NO NOT! YOU BOUT IT, HOMIE?’, Ashley screamed, louder than she had perhaps in her entire life, spitting venom at the receiver. It was a miracle it didn’t melt from the concentrated resentment lacing every word.

A long silence followed, as Ashley caught her breath, the other Ashley’s did all they could not to burst out laughing too loudly and ruin the prank, and Menlo analyzed the rant.

‘...So what you’re saying is that you wanna go on a date tomorrow?’

‘FUCK!!!!’, Ashley screamed again, prodding the phone with her finger even though it couldn’t actually hurt Menlo. ‘YES, MENLO, I’M DOWN FOR A DATE TOMORROW, OKAY? DO YOU UNDERSTAND? PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GUCCI, PLEASE TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND ME! I THINK YOU’RE STRAIGHT UP BANGIN’, AND I’D DIE TO SHOW YOU WHAT LIPSTICK BRAND I USE!’

Menlo, now definitely blushing, stammered into the phone ‘I’m not dreaming, right? I wish you could pinch me.’

‘I WISH SO TOO, HOTTIE! SEE YOU THEN! I’M SO HAPPY YOU SAID YES! SO SO SOOOOOOOOO HAPPY! BOOYAH!’, Ashley finished raving, smacking the phone down and fainting on the floor, breathing heavily, as the other Ashley’s fell on the floor too, from uncontrollable laughter, except for Ashley B, who took the time to snap a few pics of that meltdown before joining in the laughter pile.

‘That was so worth it! That was the funniest thing ever!’, Ashley T admitted, spitting out floss.

‘Did you hear him? He actually things this is happening! Oh, that’s gonna be SOOOOOOOO rich!’, Ashley T guffawed, holding her sides.

‘Oh, yes, now THAT was a classic Ashley prank! I bet you enjoyed that just as much as we did, right, Ashley A?’, Ashley B asked, tears in her eyes.

Ashley A had tears in her eyes too, but she had to pretend they were from mirth. Wiping them, she giggled ‘Yeah… Yeah that was, um, that was some real Ashley shit right there, huh?’

Never mind that Ashley had never had to be forced to do a prank before. Never mind that it never involved this much commitment. Never mind that they actually informed the prankee they were being pranked. It didn’t make some of the nasty pranks she had made okay, but still. This was different. This wasn’t… Fun.

Not even for her, at least.

Still, a wave of relief coursed through her, as she sat down next to the table. ‘Okay… That was literally the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But hey, I passed the challenge, right?’

‘Yes, indeed, Ashley A, you did.’, Ashley B congratulated, offering her a polite smatter of applause, as did Q and T. Ashley A beamed. It was worth it for this. ‘Yay! I did it! Now can we get this party started?’, Ashley asked, reaching towards a creme savor, only to get her hand slapped away again. ‘Owie!’, Ashley cried, again kissing her hand, while B shook her head. ‘Oh, no, Ashley A, there are 3 more challenges.’

‘3?!’, Ashley asked, aghast and dismayed. ‘Why 3? What do I need to do to…’

‘Do you want to bring things back to normal or not, Ashley A?’, Ashley B demanded, casting a shadow with her disapproval. There was something about her anger there that felt… Too real.

Ashley A gulped, legitimately scared, and she nodded like a good girl. ‘Yes… More than anything.’

‘Good. Then you’ll do what we say. Friends do that.’, Ashley B reminded her, and Ashley A nodded in agreement, following her friends up the stairs to the next challenge.

But as she got bathed by their stiff, lifeless shadows, she couldn’t help but wonder if Gretchen would agree with this.

 

Back at Gretchen’s house, things were definitely a little odd too. Perhaps that was unfair to feel, Gretchen mused, as she saw her friends all listen attentively (sort of) as she explained what she was currently working on. After all, this was a good thing, no? Her treasured companions were taking a vested interest in the area most central to her core, her love of science, of inventing, of logic and numbers and facts. Could her anxiety addled brain REALLY find a negative here?

‘...Of course it can.’, Gretchen sighed to herself, as she tightened a screw on her, ha, pet project. She chuckled as she made a mental note to make that pun next to Ashley. It would make her do that rolling giggle, and she found it aesthetically pleasing, for reasons she was not yet ready to face.

But that momentary joy concerning her secret friend was soon replaced with the growing worry concerning her not secret friends. Something just felt OFF, and Gretchen couldn’t deny her curiosity any longer. They had rarely ever spent time in her room, and even then it was usually to play a board game or plan out one of T.J’s harebrained heists. Could Spinelli call to mind her wallpaper’s color? Did Gus appreciate her alphabetized book case? Had Vince ever noticed the hoop over her wastebasket, which was meant as a gesture of solidarity over their different interests?

‘Nice hoop, Gretch.’, Vince complimented, tossing a juice box into it.

‘Oh. Okay, point in his favor. But still.’, Gretchen scrunched her forehead, as if to shut down her unnecessary fears, but she just couldn’t. She had to figure this out now. After all, if she was this committed to crazy plans involving secret motivations, how likely was it that her closest friends in the world weren’t capable of that?

Welding the collar tighter onto the machine, then making sure the springs in the legs worked, Gretchen employed some subtlety, and asked, almost absent mindedly ‘Sorry this is taking so long, guys.’

Her friends were mostly quick to reply (she was pretty sure T.J. had fallen asleep for a moment). ‘Oh, what, no, of course not! We wanted to see you at work for once!’, they all answered in unison, which was frankly even more telling. They were individual voices bonded by common goals, not sheep in a herd. Gretchen squinted, stepping back from the table to continue her unfortunately necessary experiment, though the mounting evidence was beckoning her rage. ‘I see. Say, T.J, Gus? Could you assist me momentarily?’

T.J’s eyes widened like a cartoon coyote being notified of the existence of gravity, while Gus suddenly felt as small as usual. The two exchanged worried glances, the kind that spelt “This wasn’t in the plan”. Gretchen knew those well. She and Ashley had probably exchanged those thrice a chapter. That is, day. Whatever.

‘Um, sure, Gretch! What do you… What do you need?’, T.J. asked, a crooked awkward smile gracing his lips. One could tell the boy didn’t know how it felt to be out of control. It must have been disorienting. Right now, though, Gretchen didn’t care for the turbulence being experienced on Air Detweiller. His passengers would have to toughen up.

Unfolding one of her diagrams, Gretchen pointed at the heel of the contraption. ‘Well, see, I think I need to tighten the bolts here, and for that, I need my Torque Wrench. Specifically blue#37. It’s inside my emergency toolbox, which is inside that closet over there. Could you two fetch it for me? I would myself, but I still need to program the self awareness. If it’s too defined, it won’t be its own person… Robot. You know what I mean.’

Despite herself, there was the tiniest satisfied smirk at T.J and Gus’ clear confusion. ‘I’ve felt so bad for lying these last few weeks. I might as well share that feeling if they’re so loose on the truth too.’

‘Oh, um, sure thing, G!’, T.J saluted, while Gus nodded so hard he got dizzy. ‘We can do that! You mentioned it just today, right?’

‘7 times, yes.’, Gretchen muttered from her stiff chair, hunched over the keypad, back straining. How she wished for better back support. But that would be spending money on non essentials.

‘Well, we’re on it!’, T.J and Gus said together, before taking a deep breath and venturing into the closet, where they found multiple tool boxes with no labels. Gulping, they began to sift through them.

Satisfied with the first part of her investigation done, Gretchen moved onto the next one: Removing the innocent member of the group. Gretchen didn’t need to be a genius to figure out Mikey would never willingly agree to deceiving her. But she was a genius, so it was clearer from the first second. His body language screamed “Guilty, unsure, miffed”. She appreciated it, to be fair. Meant that her friends were mostly well intentioned after all. But that didn’t mean she was going to take it easy on anyone but Mikey.

Sitting next to him on her bed (which was far too squeaky, but alas, cest la vie), she placed an arm around her ally in more ways than one. ‘You good, Mikey? Something bringing you down?’, she asked, while Vince and Spinelli behind her smiled awkwardly, trying not to give anything away, even if they were extremely curious about certain objects they could spot in the room.

‘Who, me? Oh, um, no! I’m just peachy! Heh, food pun, I’m into food, how fitting!’, Mikey lied. Badly. So badly it made Gretchen want to apologize to Ashley for all her criticisms. At least Ashley tried. Mikey couldn’t be sadder unless Santa turned out to be fake.

…She really had to acknowledge one day that she saw Santa Claus once. Perhaps when she wasn’t so busy gripping with unnecessary pre-teen drama.

‘Well, that’s a relief! I’d hate to think you were feeling upset, Mikey. After all, you’re probably the person I trust most. I would wanna repay that trust, you know?’, Gretchen laid it on a little thicker, but she still kept on the fakest innocent smile she could muster. Her pats made Mikey’s shoulders slump further and further, and for a moment, she got really worried for her bed’s condition.

But Mikey was easy to crack. It wouldn’t take much more to get him to either squeal or (more likely) run off to avoid squealing, which would make the next phase even easier.

Looking about as comfortable as a fly in a spider’s web, Mikey coughed and sputtered ‘Oh, um, yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Trust. Yes. A key component in any relationship.’

‘Indubitably. Which is why I would trust you to tell me if you guys really want to do this science stuff this afternoon. I would hate to think my friends were feigning an interest just to make me feel better. I’m actually quite fond of the truth.’, Gretchen whispered, making Mikey squirm even more. He was a rat in a trap right now, and Gretchen was enjoying it a little too much. Perhaps she was taking on Ashley characteristics she wasn’t aware she had.

‘Of course, perhaps it’s not to make me feel better. Perhaps it’s something far more… Guileful.’, she pressed further, slowly raising a thesaurus Mikey had once gifted her. ‘Conniving. Duplicitous. Disingenuous. Underhanded. Unscrupulous. Furtive. Surreptitious. Skulky. Clandestine.’

Mikey was practically sweating enough to fill the grand canyon when Gretchen finished on ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’

‘I NEED TO BREATHE SOME AIR IN A DIFFERENT LOCATION FAR FROM HERE FOR TOTALLY INNOCENT AND NOT SNEAKY REASONS!’, Mikey announced, rushing out of the house and charging down the street, his footsteps echoing long after he left.

‘And then there were two…’, Gretchen narrowed her eyes, as she saw Spinelli and Vince exchange uncomfortable glances too. She had to figure out what was going on here, and she would. Even if it meant… Thinking less of her friends.

Setting up the final consciousness program onto her machine (and cursing that she couldn’t enjoy a nearly finished robot thanks to her friends incessant curiosity), Gretchen suddenly rubbed her belly audibly next to the duo. ‘Oh, Tesla’s tibia, am I STARVED. I sure you are too, after all this THRILLING science! How about I go downstairs and whip us some yummy trail mix?’, Gretchen raised her eyebrows, tracing their expressions for any hint of deception.

Spinelli, blushing from alarm at Gretchen’s behavior, made an uncomfortable face. ‘Don’t you have anything that doesn’t taste like a squirrel pooped in a pla…’

Vince suddenly elbowed her, blushing for all together different reasons. ‘Hey, it’s Gretchen’s house! I think she should select the snack!’

‘Why, thank you, Vincent. I’ll be right back! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’, she winked, then stepped out onto the first step and walked in place quickly to make it seem like she dashed down the stairs.

Once she was sure they were sure she was gone, Gretchen went to a certain area of the wall next to her room, quickly listened in for the air pocket, and pushed gently, revealing an open chamber that led inside the walls of her house. ‘I guess there are some small benefits to a house that doesn’t live up to proper safety practices.’, she thought, squeezing inside to place her eyes where her framed poster of Einstein was. ‘Now, to see what my friends are up to.’

Suddenly, a terrible feeling reverberated through her chest, a cold chill that shook her bones. ‘I had to pretend to be myself when I lied about that trail mix. Am I losing touch with who I am?’

She had never been this grumpy with anyone, outside of her pest. Never been this deceitful, barring a plan that usually meant justice for the whole school. She was normally nice, kind, cheerful! She used to feel such joy at the moments shared with her friends! What happened? Was it the friendship experiment? Was it her lying? Was her need to keep it a secret leading to all this behavior? Whose fault was it truly?

Perhaps if Gretchen had been allowed more time to digest these complicated thoughts, she would have gone out there to confess, to explain, to try and fix things.

But before she could, Vince and Spinelli suddenly looked around, and spoke to each other when they thought they were alone.

‘I don’t know about you, but this is taking us nowhere. I say we search the room for clues. I bet you she wrote something.’, Spinelli exclaimed, and Vince snapped his fingers. ‘Of course! That notebook she’s been obsessed with! We find that, we find the problem!’

‘And then, we solve it!’, Spinelli rubbed her fist in her palm with unbridled glee, and the two began searching the room, unaware that two progressively betrayed eyes were watching.

‘I only lied to protect Ashley and to have a friend! A friend I’m more than allowed to have!’, Gretchen thought, turning red from all this… This betrayal! ‘But if they wanna “protect” me from being myself, then I’ve got just the ticket to teach them a lesson.’, she growled, going downstairs to fetch the trail mix, formulating a plot to catch them all red handed.

 

But if Gretchen thought she was suffering, she had no idea how bad Ashley A was having it. At least she got to act against her friends well meaning if selfish behavior. Ashley A was facing less (though not completely absent) well meaning actions, which were FAR more selfish, and without the benefit of even frowning about it.

Of course, Ashley A wasn’t as cognitively developed as Gretchen, to be honest. In fact, for all her bullying behavior, Ashley A ironically didn’t recognize bullying when it was directed towards herself.

Which is why, when she sat down on a pink chair in Ashley B’s positively beautiful room, littered to the brim with yummy snacks, boy band posters and exact copies of Ashley A’s room (just with a tea table set and yellow and black instead of pink), she afforded a false sense of security. Maybe the other challenges weren’t SO hard… Maybe she was just assuming the worst. ‘They’re STILL my friends, after all! They would never do anything to embarrass me!’, Ashley A closed her eyes confidently, attempting to sip her jasmine tea, only to get blocked from it again. ‘Ah, ah, ah!’, Ashley B wagged her finger like a disappointed pet owner, making Ashley A almost whimper in melancholy. ‘Not until after the challenges!’

‘Can’t I just have ONE creme savor? You KNOW they’re my favorites!’, Ashley A pleaded, hungrily eying the savor. Maybe she could just swipe one quickly, like a cat. She owned one, she could probably try.

But Ashley Q was quicker. She slapped her hand away the moment she reached forwards, the brash impact making Ashley A’s dorsum sting and turn red. Ashley A tried to comfort the hand, but Ashley B was already announcing the next challenge, clinking her rare beehive patterned tea cup with a spoon so golden it was blinding. ‘All Ashley’s be seated for the second challenge!’, she commanded, sounding direct and refined, every word chiming like polished silverware. For just a moment, Ashley A heard her mother in B, and she didn’t know if she was impressed, or offset by that.

Ashley Q was already seated, while Ashley T, bringing the object of the second challenge, bowed and presented it to Ashley B, chanting ‘Sporty, Ginger, Baby, Scary, Posh’ over and over like she was a priest reciting Latin verses in the 12th century AD.

Ashley A peaked from her chair (was it lower than the others?), and managed to catch a glimpse of one of the Ashley’s favorite games. ‘Girl Talk? Ooh, I love Girl Talk!’, Ashley A enthused, so much so that she actually shook her hands a little bit, like jazz hands.

Ashley B’s eyes were so glazed you’d think they were a honey donut. ‘Yes, of course you do, you’re an Ashley. For now.’

The sentence was delivered so blase that Ashley A felt a genuine chill ride down her spine. Ashley B had been suspicious and rageful before, but never to this extent. How much had she messed up with this secret friendship thing? ‘Is it really worth all this?’, she worriedly thought, as B lifted the box lid and removed the cards and zit stickers, but, oddly enough, not the spinner.

As B began handing out cards to Q and T (but not A, of course) Ashley A couldn’t help but raise her hand, as if she was in class. ‘Um, Ashley B? How come you didn’t take out the spinner? And why are you sorting out the cards, they’re supposed to all be in one pile…’

‘Do you think I don’t know how this game works? Do you think I’m stupid, Ashley A? Do you think we’re all just dumb idiots who aren’t worth your time and energy?!’, Ashley B suddenly shouted, making everyone flinch. The crazed look in her eyes made Ashley A decide it wasn’t worth venturing further, so she instantly shook her head. ‘Literally the opposite of what I think! You’re stupid… Not!’

Ashley B seemed to accept this statement, so she cleared her throat and lifted her tea cup again, pinkie out. Q and T did as well, but Ashley A had been told not to lift her tea cup, so she just put her pinkie out and hoped with all her heart that was okay. ‘This is a… Special version of Girl Talk, designed specifically for this game.’

‘Ooh, c’est genial! That sounds very special! Thank you!’, Ashley A expressed politely, clapping her hands excitedly. Ashley B sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Ashley A, this is a challenge to your all important position in The Ashley’s, not a prize on Wheel of Fortune. Try and take it seriously.’

Discouraged, Ashley A shrunk in her seat and nodded, feeling like a scolded cat. ‘Sorry.’, she whispered, looking around to see similarly disappointed expressions from Ashley Q and Ashley T (who were both enjoying their snacks of choice: Crazy dips mixed with fun dips and pop qwiz).

Satisfied with this showing of submissiveness, Ashley B began to explain the rules: ‘Me, Ashley Q and Ashley T each have a pack of question cards. You don’t get any, since they are all directed at YOU. That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of removing the spinner. We’re not gonna need it.’

The cold words had their intended effect. Ashley A gulped, teeth nearly chattering from the very thought of being the only one subjected to these questions. Still, a small voice in the back of her head beckoned her to remain optimistic of her friends intentions. ‘Maybe they aren’t choosing the REALLY embarrassing ones! They wouldn’t make it THAT hard, you’re friends!’

As if Ashley B could hear that voice, she picked a card and read out in a far too relaxed voice ‘What is the most embarrassing thing to happen to you in front of a cute guy?’.

Ashley Q and T instantly ‘ooh!’-d, eating up the potential gossip, while Ashley A gaped and gawked, eyes nearly popping out of her skull (which would have been tres disgusting). ‘Wait… Wha… But… Are you sure…’, she mustered a lame protest, but the death stare from Ashley B was enough to silence her into co-operation. She would just have to grin and bare it.

The reason to her dismayed reaction was apparent only to B, though: See, while Ashley A had yet to find a single boy she truly deemed worthy enough to date her, she had a number of celebrity crushes, not to mention some directed to older kids in their block. One, a Zachary Tate that attended the high school a few blocks away, was a particular avenue of Ashley A’s affection. Tall, tanned and a smile that said ‘I’m bad, but in a good way, yo’, Zachary was exactly what Ashley pictured a future boyfriend of hers would be like. Naturally, a sophisticated lady such as herself could easily practice flirting with a boy 6 years her senior, so when opportunity came knocking one day (when Ashley A and B were downing fruit smoothies and he happened to walk into the store to order one of his own), Ashley A knew she had to take her shot.

But what happened after… It had haunted her nightmares for months.

Ashley A had never forgotten Ashley B’s actions that day. The way she instantly moved between her and Zachary, covering up any flagrant sights. The way she took charge and hid her away from prying, laughing eyes. The way she quietly and gently helped her out of the mess.

Those sympathetic eyes, eyes that were as reassuring as the words that came out of her mouth: “I swear I’ll literally never tell a soul what happened today, word is bond”, they had always come in the nick of time during that recurring nightmare, sweeping away the mortification Ashley A had felt that day, a crack in her heart that had healed into a tiny scar.

But now that scar was being opened, and Ashley A was gonna ruin her friend's fuzzy carpet with the gushing red that would flow from her stabbed heart.

‘I… Um… Well… It’s just…’, Ashley A kept on stuttering, face growing as red as the aforementioned gushing blood. How could she spit this out? No, no, she couldn’t, she just couldn’t! ‘The utter embarrassment! Ugh, this is the WORST DAY EVER!!!’, Ashley A cried out by mistake, and for once, she wasn’t exaggerating.

But Ashley B was having none of it, even if Ashley T and Ashley Q were growing a little concerned at the display of fear. Lifting a Zit Sticker (the punishment the game administered for skipping a dare), Ashley B wagged it like she was threatening a dog with a folded newspaper. ‘Do you WANT a Zit sticker? Do you WANT to make us think you’re hiding something? This is a challenge of your loyalty, of your dedication, Ashley Armbruster Junior! How can we call you our president if you can’t admit to a teensy little embarrassing moment? What kind of Ashley is scared to open up to her fellow Ashley’s?’, Ashley B lectured, each word dripping with venom. There was a fire in her now, perhaps a revealing one. Ashley A couldn’t help but wonder if she was still actually president of the Ashley’s.

But the shaming had worked. ‘I don’t want a zit sticker. I don’t want them to suspect me. I don’t want them to not trust me. I can be a part of the Ashley’s, I can! I’ll earn it!’, Ashley A motivated herself, clenching her fists super hard and puffing up her cheeks with air. She had to do this, she had to prove she can have both: The Ashley’s and The Gretchen!

Bravely facing all her friends, eyes open to their potential scorn, she slowly replied to the demeaning question: ‘I was at the smoothie place when… When Zachary Tate showed up.’

‘Oooh!’, Ashley Q and T echoed from before, seemingly forgetting how distressed their friend looked. The scent of juicy gossip was like blood to these henchwomen sharks.

Ashley A let that interruption pause her so she could gather any loose bits of strength. Then, mustering all her courage, she continued. ‘As I’m sure you all know, Zachary is the CUTEST boy in 6th Street High. He has schway hair and bangin’ blue eyes, and his smirk is oh so sex…’, Ashley A got sidetracked, admiring the features (though, if she was truly honest, she was more imagining an abstract body that happened to hold said features, rather than specifically Zachary. Oddly enough, the body was a little more feminine in nature, but Ashley A figured she was just missing a frame of reference for a male body. She’d need to look at some magazines when she was back home the next day). Ashley B snapped her fingers impatiently, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. ‘Stick to the dare, Ashley A. We have imaginations.’,

Ashley A sheepishly grinned, blushing for a different reason. ‘Sorry.’

Then, she blushed from shame as she narrated her tragic tale. ‘Well, anyway, he was there. And, logically, I thought he’d be a great test subject for my flirtations, you know, for the day I find a boyfriend worthy of my FABULOUS looks.’, Ashley A bragged just a little, small pleasures and all. Ashley Q and T nodded, both deeply in denial too, it seems.

‘Yeah, yeah, you’re top of the pops and shit, GET TO THE GOODS, SISTER.’, Ashley B demanded, slamming her hands on the table, and Ashley A yiped, leaped into the air, and finally continued. ‘Okay, okay! So, like, I walk up to him, all giggly and starry eyed, putting on my “honey voice”, you know the one, reserved for my one and only, when suddenly he actually stares back, I think it was after I said he had abs that could melt butter, but it may have been after I remarked that his lips were probably tired from kissing every girl at campus, doesn’t matter, anyway, I don’t think he even heard all those, because he turned to me, like I said, with those sparkling eyes, and he sort of like whips his hair, ugh, TOO MUCH, but I digress, he looked at me and said ‘Hey, little girl, you need something?’, all innocent like, I think he wasn’t aware that I was into him, how adorable is that, boys are so dumb, but point is, well, when he did that, he was really close to my face, he’s tall so he had to lean down after all, and I could see his eyes and lips and everything, as you can imagine that was a LOT to take in all at once, and I had just drank my third smoothie, and I was honestly a little nervous as it was because I still haven’t practiced flirting that much, and, well, you see, um, one thing led to another, and, well, um…’

Ashley’s rant screeched to a halt as she grew redder and redder, not to mention smaller. Shrinking even further into her seat, Ashley A dared look up, and felt the walls closing in, their blaring yellow black colors spinning and spinning in derision, as if she was trapped in a spinning carousel and all the kids were laughing as she felt queasy, just like she did that day. Ashley Q and Ashley T held eager and curious looks, baring deep into her soul, but it was Ashley B’s eyes that truly made Ashley A hush up.

Because those eyes, once so sympathetic and kind, were now as dark and hollow as the inky night that swallowed her up every time she awoke from her nightmares.

‘Yes, Ashley A? What DID happen then? Do enlighten us.’, Ashley B enunciated in an excruciatingly slow way, despite knowing what happened. Maybe because she knew. Either way, she sipped her tea and grinned in anticipation, awaiting the dirt.

And Ashley A didn’t need to be reminded of the punishment for not co-operating. Swallowing the last remains of her pride, she choked out ‘And then… I vomited.’, before hiding her face in her trembling hands, hot tears running down her cheeks, smearing her makeup.

Despite this entire parade of apathy before her, Ashley A couldn’t help the minuscule and hopeful feeling that maybe, just maybe, her friends would be sympathetic to her pain. Maybe even feel bad for what she went through. Who wanted to throw up in front of their crush, after all? No, they had to understand! ‘They have to!’

I’m sad to say that the obvious did indeed happen.

‘SCANDALOUS!’, Ashley B, Q and T all chorused, clinking their tea cups and laughing up a storm, laughing and laughing and laughing for so long that Ashley A wondered if she was going deaf. The giggles rolled on and on, echoing in the halls of her mind, stored away for eternity. As long as she lived, she would never forget this moment, where she had felt truly alone, despite being surrounded by her bestest friends.

And then, Ashley Q lifted a card.

There was more.

There was so much more.

But Ashley A couldn’t say anything. She could only hang her head in shame, like a prisoner at death row, and silently pray that it wouldn’t hurt nearly as hard as this.

All the while, Muffin (who had been watching from above, unable to intervene without hurting her mama), tired of this crap, slinked away to the Grundler’s, deciding only a genius could help now.

And Penny? She was listening in to every word, impatiently awaiting the opening to bust open this scheme once and for all.

 

Poor Ashley M. She was an Ashley, which meant she wasn’t exactly much for running, or jumping, or really any physical activity. Normally, the very thought of exerting her body would have been enough to make her crawl back into bed and pretend no such concept existed.

But Ashley A, her owner, her friend, her mama… Needed her. Now more than ever. No one else could save her from the twisted game Ashley B had set up.

And so, with a heavy heart (and heavier lungs), Ashley M scaled brick walls and careened down them like she was in a marathon, ignoring how her entire body was on fire. ‘Ugh… Why… Can’t… They… Be… Neighbors?’, the kitty panted out in exhaustion, wiping sweat off her brow with her paw, as she forced her legs to keep moving despite it all.

The afternoon was slowly turning into evening. The moonlight was her only guide through this dark, lonely path. ‘Thankfully, they say cats have excellent night vision!’, Muffin smirked, peering through the night to see what she could, well, see.

…

‘Whoever said that should be taken out to the street and shot.’, the feline sassed, rolling her yellow eyes in derision. Now she’d have to climb every tree in every yard just to look in a window and see if she recognized the room Ashley A had brought her once. ‘At least the memory thing is true. A cat never forgets!’, she exclaimed proudly, only to squint in uncertainty. ‘Or was that an elephant? I forget.’

Thankfully, Muffin wasn’t gonna shatter any more myths about cats, like not falling on her feet, because the first house she tree scaled next to seemed to be the one! ‘Those are Gretchen’s friends, the ones Ashley said she loved to mock once! I wonder if she still doesn’t like them. Do we have to be nice to them like in-laws?’, she wondered, before chuckling and shaking her head. ‘I have to stop thinking like that. Why, the likelihood Ashley and Gretchen could be lesbians together are as high as me being lesbians with a… A dog!’

That silly notion brushed aside with a tail wag, Ashley M happily bopped side to side as she tip toed across the branch, practicing her runway strut. ‘One day, mama will take me to Milano. I have to look PURR-fect for my public!’.

However, she took a little too long, as suddenly, a Ruffed Grouse showed up, chowing down on the upper canopy of the aspen tree they were on. The bird slowly turned its head to her, and called out “pete-pete-peta-peta” to the cat.

Ashley M hackled up, hissed, whimpered a bit, and with her tail extra fluffy now, leapt for safety onto the window, thanking the lord that it was open…

Only to CRASH onto the chair next to Gretchen’s desk.

‘Woah! Did you hear something?’, Gus questioned from inside the closet, he and T.J somehow STILL searching for that wrench.

‘I think that was me. I dropped another tool box. How many does she HAVE?’, T.J questioned, voice echoing from inside the closet, as Ashley M slowly picked herself up and perked her ears at the speaking voices.

‘I guess they’re for different situations.’, Gus shrugged, finding a shoe box loaded with tools. ‘Hey, maybe it’s in this one.’

‘I hope it is. Pretty sure everyone went downstairs. I feel like I’m missing out on the action.’, T.J sighed, rummaging through the box, bumping into something, and dropping another three on the floor. ‘Oh man!’, he cried, growing miserable from this.

Ashley M snickered, tutting at the boys. ‘Oh, you’re missing out. I’m going to just waltz up to Gretchen and save my mama, and while you’ll be stuck in that closet being all loser and pathetic, I’M gonna get a nice fancy salmon dinner, with a side dish of cream! I’ll even get to watch the new episode of Baywatch! That Parker Stevenson is beach in beachin’. Get it, like bitchin’, but beach…’

Ashley M’s lil rant was unfortunately cut off by her walking straight into the door, banging her little head, screeching out in pain. Rubbing her head with her paw, she squinted in annoyance at the looming entry before her. ‘Now, isn’t that literally sooooo inconsiderate? Did no one think that a fancy cat such as myself might need to pass through and find Gretchen? No class, no class at all!’

Worse, Ashley M couldn’t reach the door on her own. She leapt up as high as she could, but the handle was tauntingly far away, teasing her. ‘Stop being so… So wooden! Don’t you know that wood is SOOOOOOOOO last Thursday! It’s all about being metal and close to my freakin’ paws! Ugh, whatEVER, I’ll find another way in!’, Ashley M screeched at the door in catspeak. She was lucky the door had chosen an elective in dogspeak instead, otherwise it would have smashed right into her.

Turning back to observe the rest of the room, Muffin tried to see if there was anything that could help her out. ‘Huh. Gretchen’s room is way emptier than Ashley’s. Where are all the necessities, like bean bag chairs, and mirrors, and plushies for me to talk to when I get lonely? Not even a 1 on the Ashley M room rating scale.’, Ashley M turned her nose up at the torrid place, only to spot Bearbert Bearstein, Gretchen’s secret teddy bear, peering from the corner of the bed, hidden as ever. Brightening up, Ashley M pulled him to her with her teeth and attempted to shake his hand. ‘A man of science! I could use your help, this is Ursa Major! See, I’m trying to help my mama, Ashley A? I’m sure you’ve heard of her. Tall, but all humans are. Pretty, but I’m sure you could tell considering her cat daughter, heh heh. But also deeply in the shit! Our fellow Ashley’s are being REALLY mean to her, which is SO WHACK! So, basically, in your professional scientific opinion, how can I open this stupid door? It’s being a REAL loser right now!’, Ashley M went on and on, pacing back and forth, her tail swishing in worry. Thanks to this, Bearbert got swiped at, and fell, head pointing towards the desk.

Ashley M, noticing this, smiled brightly and patted the bear on the head. ‘Thank you, doctor! Most helpful! I’ll recommend you to Barbshley next time she can’t pick a dress for date night!’

Resuming her strut from before, Ashley M swayed her head back and forth as she clawed her way up the stiff chair and then onto the desk. ‘Gee, she could get a comfier chair.’, she thought, only to gasp as she stared above her, accidentally recreating a scene from one of her mama’s new favorite animated movies, “Toy Story”. She wasn’t sure if she’d be proud of the coincidental pop culture reference or not, but her head was sort of packed with shocked thoughts and feelings.

See, Gretchen had sort of accounted for T.J. and Gus to be out of the closet (unlike her) by now, and she was so distracted by all the hullabaloo with her friends, that she sort of set her project up to turn on.

And it had happened to turn on the moment Ashley M was below it. Or, well, her.

Looking slowly side to side, the mechanical marvel analyzed the entire room, filing away important bits of information: The shelves were high and packed to the brim, so those books were precariously dangling over her owner’s head; the bed’s mattress’ springs were loosening, that could be a health risk; Why on earth were those two human males taking so long to find a simple wrench, when she could spout info on any kind of wrench from her built in database?

Clearly, her (A.K.A, Gretchen Grundler, A.K.A Doctor Grundler) had to be contacted, and right now. A laboratory couldn’t be littered with such lollygaggers!

‘Doctor Grundler, can you read me? Doctor Grundler? Why won’t she answer?’, the robot wondered aloud, her speech program sounding like an artificial Jadzia Dax from Deep Space Nine, as she began computing the most likely scenarios. But it was evening, so Gretchen couldn’t be at school, and she had just programmed her, so she was unlikely to be at a friend’s house. Was someone keeping her owner up from attending to her pet project?

Slowly turning around to observe the desk, the machine tutted, judging her owner’s messy workspace. ‘Someone could get hurt! I better fix this up once I find Doctor Grundler.’

Suddenly, a tiny screen popped out from near her eye, as she began to narrate, her ears perked up for any danger. ‘B.U.D.D.Y mission log, terrandate 30-01-98. My first few minutes activated have been nothing short of calamitous. My owner is nowhere to be found, her workspace is a health hazard, and according to my sensors, there seems to be no sign of intelligent life anywhere.’

‘Hello!’, Ashley M meowed a greeting, hoping this narration didn’t imply this thing was… Shudder… A geek.

‘HALT. UNKNOWN PRESENCE DETECTED. STATE YOUR OBJECTIVE AND ALLEGIANCE, OR FACE THE DEADLY STRENGTH OF MY ATOMIC BARK.’, B.U.D.D.Y growled, adopting an attack stance she was notified by her database was “threatening and quite cool”.

Ashley M yelped in fear, jumping up into the air, baring her claws. Shaking her head, she made herself look as small as possible to avoid classification as a threat. ‘I’m just Ashley A’s cat! Ashley M, A.K.A Muffin! I was just searching for Gretchen, it’s an emergency!’

B.U.D.D.Y’s metal ears perked up at the mention of her owner, and she adopted a less threatening stance. ‘Emergency, you say? I was born for those!’

Then, chuckling, she added ‘Well, not born, I’m a robot dog, I was MADE for those. But it felt a fitting expression.’

Ashley M tilted her head, utterly confounded by the… Thing before her. Never in her life had she spoken to a dog, let alone a robot dog. She knew dogs were scary and dumb, thanks to TV and magazines. Except puppies. Puppies were angels.

But this one hadn’t torn her to shreds for existing… Yet. So perhaps she was worth asking help for?

‘Well, um, see, I was just about to get Gretchen, but then this STUPID door got all lame and didn’t open! Which was LITERALLY SO NOT SCHWAY BY THE WAY!’, Ashley M hissed at the door, planning to leave a very nasty review of it to Gretchen once possible. How could Ashley A be friends with a girl who had such a lame ass door?

‘Schway? What is this Schway? I better add that to my database later.’, B.U.D.D.Y questioned, tilting her head like Ashley M did, assuming this was an action everyone just did. Suddenly, a notification popped up in her eyes, and she gasped. ‘Wait, did you say Ashley A?’

‘Yes, Ashley A. Duh.’, Ashley M rolled her eyes. ‘She’s only the most famous person on the planet.’

B.U.D.D.Y’s database only contained a few humans so far. Gretchen’s family, friends, favorite scientists.

Ashley A was part of that list, and marked as quite important. It seemed as if her owner valued this… Ashley A significantly. If the emergency concerned not just her owner, but her owner’s friend, then this required her services post haste!

‘There’s not a moment to lose, Ashley M! Here, I’ll open the door for you!’, B.U.D.D.Y rushed, leaping off the desk and rushing onto the door. Ashley M, gracefully landing onto the floor and grooming her fur, nodded agreeably. ‘Finally, some service! Pity it had to be a dog, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.’

Ashley M was curious however as to how B.U.D.D.Y would open the door. ‘Say, um, canine? How exactly do you plan to…’

Suddenly, B.U.D.D.Y, standing right before the door, rose up from the floor onto the faraway handle, her legs springing up to make her 5 foot tall.

Ashley M’s jaw dropped as she gaped at the display of strength and cunning. As the door creaked open, B.U.D.D.Y turned to her new companion, and within a second, was back onto the ground with a tail wag. ‘Well, are you coming?’

Then, shaking her head, she apologized profusely. ‘Oh, where are my manners? Sorry, I was just made, well, today! I’m B.U.D.D.Y. It stands for Biometric Utility Dog Doubling Yokefellows! In short, I’m her buddy! Get it? Doctor Grundler is so clever.’, B.U.D.D.Y offered her cold metallic paw to Ashley M, who shook it, not feeling the cold stinging metal at all.

‘I’m… Less sure of my attraction to Parker Stevenson.’, she admitted, before blushing and going into denial. ‘I mean, um, what, no, I like men!’

‘...I like men too! They comprise 50% of Doctor Grundler’s inner circle! Speaking of her, we should really get to her! Lead the way, trusted feline!’, B.U.D.D.Y requested, standing at attention behind Ashley M, who gulped, still very red. ‘When I get back to Ashley A, she owes me two salmon. No one said I was gonna question my sexuality on this mission.’

 

And at the same time, back at Ashley B’s mansion, Penny Bly was going through her own mission complication. Specifically…

‘Nothing interesting’s happening!’, Penny protested from her vantage point, scrunched up inside the air vent that led into Ashley B’s room, the area covered up by a poster of Pierce Brosnan as James Bond in “Tomorrow Never Dies”. Penny had delicately cut out the eyes so she could look through, intending to glue those back on when she was done (she was a spy, not a vandal).

But did it matter? Her eyes had been spying this room’s occupants for ages, and nothing incriminating was happening! Sure, Ashley A had undergone numerous embarrassing questions and dares (“Without stumbling, hold your ankles and walk backwards 20 steps”, which thanks to Ashley’s known lack of fitness, led to her falling down over and over, eliciting more laughter; “Call the Cutest Guy In Your Class and Tell Him Jokes. He Has to Laugh Before You Hang Up on Him”, leading to ANOTHER humiliating phone call for Ashley A as she desperately tried to make Butch (she figured he was kinda cute? In a rugged way?) laugh, which was impossible, seeing as he was kind of a gloomy admirer of the macabre; “Stand On All Fours and Bark Like a Dog For 15 Seconds”, which was degrading enough, especially when Ashley far preferred cats, but she was pretty sure lasted 60 seconds actually; “Raid a Clothes Closet. Model the Tackiest Outfit You Can Put Together”, oh the horror, surely they knew how her second greatest fear was being mocked at a runway!; “Tell Each Player What She Does That Annoys You”, which somehow was the one card meant for the others to tell to Ashley A; and so on and so forth), but outside of some potentially embarrassing pics (which Penny was only going to resort to using if she was left with only blackmail as an option), she had nothing! Why, why did no one use a truth or dare card to get Ashley R over, or ask what was going on? Penny wasn’t against sadism, but surely it had to have a purpose beyond “Screw that person”?

Penny then recalled times she did just that.

‘All right, fine, but it’s still not helping me.’, she crossed her arms, sighing audibly. This momentarily alerted Ashley B, who looked over to her poster in curiosity, raising an eyebrow at the sudden sound.

Penny tensed up and froze, eyes flitting around in fear. If she was found out, she’d lose the gang’s trust AND potentially get humiliated herself! That was for Ashley A, not her! ‘I’m invisible, I’m nothing, I’m nobody…’, she whispered, repeating a well worn mantra, shaking and shivering and begging to survive.

Ashley B slowly neared the poster, inspecting it carefully, looking right into its eyes.

You could hear a pin drop. Penny bit her tongue and pinched her cheeks.

‘...Must have been these stupid vents. They’re not agreeing with your presence, Piercy. Too bad. I do.’, Ashley B flirted with the poster, batting her eyelashes seductively.

Penny sighed in relief, wiping her brow. ‘Phew! That was nearly a disaster!’

Then, because Ashley B was a 9 year old girl unaware someone was hiding behind her poster, the rich girl kissed the poster’s lips, pretending she could ever attain such importance… That is, of course she could, shut up.

Penny, growing green in her cheeks, rushed away from the vent to a safer area to hack and wheeze, spitting over and over. ‘Eww!!! Cooties, cooties, cooties!’

She took out her omelet and chewed it over to remove the taste of Ashley B from her lips. ‘Ugh, that’s better. Gosh. Whoever said a first kiss was an important milestone was in need of a brain transplant.’

Returning to her work, Penny suddenly heard the Ashley’s rush downstairs, which surprised her. What could the third challenge even be there? They’d already made her call people twice. Curious, she crawled through the vent to the kitchen area, muttering as she did. ‘For lazy rich girls that sit around all day in their stupid clubhouse, they sure like to move around during a sleepover. What happened to the sleep part? Not that I’ve ever been in a sleepover, but you know, I’m just making a healthy ass…’

And then, just like that, Penny suddenly fell through an unreinforced part of the attic and right onto the middle of the kitchen, just as the Ashley’s were finishing the trip down the stairs.

‘Umption!’, Penny finished as she screamed while falling, and now she had to stop herself from screaming for a different reason, because any second now her cover was blown! Desperately looking for an idea, Penny saw the Boulet’s kept a statue of Ashley A Sr. in their kitchen, rolled her eyes, mumbled ‘Not a brain cell to be found’, and did the logical thing, by standing next to it with a step stool and pretending to be a statue too.

Not a brain cell to be found for sure.

When the Ashley’s entered said kitchen, they all jolted, then stared suspiciously at the extra statue in the room. Penny, sweating bullets, tried her best not to blink. She won no blinking contests with her pet rat, she could win this… Right?

After a long and uncomfortable silence that made Penny make a mental note to check if she received long term cardiac issues from, an answer to her worries finally came. Ashley B tutted her tongue, shook her head, and turning to her friends, exclaimed:

‘I just don’t get modern art.’

The other three nodded and hummed in agreement, despite the four girl’s actual understanding of modern art being as voluminous as the amount of brain cells in the room.

Penny sighed in relief, loudly, making Ashley B turn around again. After another few tortuous seconds as a statue, Penny kept her relief to herself as the Ashley’s resumed their actual business: The Third Challenge.

‘For the Third Challenge, we require something most private of you, Ashley Armbruster.’, Ashley B lectured ominously, standing with her back turned to the girl, snapping her fingers at Q and T. ‘And so, I’ve decided Ashley Q and Ashley T tell you, because I’m not really in the mood, you know?’

Ashley Q and T, who weren’t exactly in the mood for this either but acquitted reluctantly, whispered in Ashley A’s ears what the challenge was.

Ashley A’s eyes widened, and her face flushed instantly. ‘I’m sorry, like, what do you wanna do with my literal UNDERWEAR?!’

‘Ashley A! A lady shouldn’t say such things out loud!’, Ashley B berated, wagging a scolding finger at her friend, as if she were her mother. ‘Just whisper them to keep the shame private! Jeez, you’d think you wanted the whole world to laugh at you, instead of just your best friends!’

Ashley A pouted, hanging her head in shame in habit by now, but still meekly protesting, wringing her hands in worry. ‘But… But… But why would I even WANT to freeze my underwear?’

Penny did all she could not to react to that. ‘Girl parties are so weird.’, she thought, wondering why they couldn’t just paint each other’s nails and gossip. That sounded a lot more fun in her opinion.

Ashley B sighed dramatically, sitting down on a chair Ashley Q and T quickly brought to her service, gesticulating to her best friend, even if that term felt a little ill fitting right now. ‘Ashley, this is a noted custom of teen girl sleepovers, which is our next big step on the road to being powerful and pretty woman. If you can’t freeze a pair of underpants, then how can you lead us into the big P: Puberty?’

Ashley shook her head and hands, trying to explain her case, as she felt her face get redder and redder, like a heatstroked tomato in a Clifford the Big Red Dog lookalike contest set on Mars. ‘No, no, I know that, duh! It’s just… Isn’t the prank supposed to be one of you doing that to me? Not me doing that to, well… Me?’, she asked, pointing at herself with both hands. What was this challenge even supposed to do, except demean her… ‘Oh, wait, yeah, that tracks.’

‘Exactly. Consider this challenge your punishment/test of will. You’ve shown commitment so far, but we need to know if this is the same Ashley A who would crawl through broken glass for us! Who would do anything for Ashley-kind!’, Ashley B explained, her eyes as fiery as her rhetoric, as she shook her fist in passionate display.

‘Um, I never crawled through broken…’, Ashley A started, but the dirty looks she received made her hush up. Nodding slowly, like a prisoner in death row, she trudged to her backpack (which she had left next to the table), deciding it was best to just get it over with. At least it couldn’t get much worse…

‘Oh, no!’, Ashley A suddenly cried, eyes flickering in fright, as she dug through her bag, tossing away her replacement PJ’s (in case of a stain) and concealed bag containing the Ashley R disguise. It had to be in there somewhere, between all the plushes and magazines and snack wrappers (she got hungry when she was anxious about her friends, okay?!).

‘Oh no what?’, Ashley B asked matter of factly, filing her nails, while Ashley Q and T shrugged at each other, legitimately confused. What was the holdup? Even Penny, as still as, well, a statue, craned her ears slightly to hear what was the hubbub.

Ashley A, voice growing anxious, held up her replacement black skirt and regular black jacket and called out without looking back ‘My underwear! I had changes of underwear right here! I always pack those!’

‘Must have forgotten. Too bad. Guess you’ll just have to use the ones you have on now.’, Ashley B waved her off with not an ounce of sympathy, resuming her nail grooming.

Ashley A was devastated. Penny was startled. Even Ashley Q and Ashley T found this perhaps just a little much. ‘Ashley B, are you sure? Maybe we can find a different challenge. There’s no need to…’, Ashley Q tried, chuckling to make herself sound less protesting, only for Ashley B to hit her with a death stare not dissimilar to her fathers. ‘Are you QUESTIONING my intentions? I crafted this plan SPECIFICALLY for Ashley A! So we can move past this, so we can finally be Ashley’s again!’

‘I know, I know, it’s just…’, Ashley Q panicked, trying to set things right again, but Ashley B growled and gripped her by the arm, hard. ‘Do you NOT want that?! Am I the only one that cares about US?!’

‘No, no! Of course not!’, Ashley Q trembled, fighting not to cry. Freeing her hand, she soothingly rubbed it, feeling sore from the grasp. ‘I… I was just thinking out loud. If you really think this is the way, then… Then I’ll do as you say.’

‘S…Same.’, Ashley T yiped, feeling terrible at how scared she was. She had wanted to ask Ashley B nicely to not grip Ashley Q’s arm like that, but decided it would be best to stay silent.

Turning her attentions back to Ashley A (after a centering nose breath), Ashley B pointed to the left. ‘Bathroom’s over there. We’ll wait.’

Ashley A opened her mouth to protest, barely getting 4 words out. ‘But… But Ashley B…’

‘Now, Ashley A.’

‘But Ashley B, I… Please… I don’t want to do this…’

‘Ashley A, do it now.’

‘But… It’s so embarrassing.’, Ashley A blubbered, feeling at the verge of tears.

Ashley B’s eyes grew dark, her voice darker. She stared daggers into Ashley A, seemingly holding herself back from slapping her. ‘You know what IS embarrassing?’.

She stood up and walked slowly up to Ashley A, every eye on her. It was like she was the house itself, unleashing its power onto the tiny human before it. Pointing in rage, she seethed ‘Not being able to trust our leader, a fellow Ashley, MY BEST FRIEND. What’s embarrassing is knowing I’d do ANYTHING for this group, while you can barely muster a FUCKING purple ensemble! What’s EMBARRASSING is that ALL I’m asking is that you prove your loyalty to us so that we can all just be Ashley’s again, and you bitch and moan about every single FUCKING thing!’

She set her forehead on Ashley’s staring right into her eyes, practically nudging them to act out, to prove their dishonesty. ‘YOU WANNA BE AN ASHLEY, A? YOU WANNA BE OUR FRIEND?!’

‘YES! I DO! I DO!’, Ashley A replied, terrified out of her wits, feeling her heart hammer in her chest, but not lying for a moment, her eyes standing still and meeting Ashley B’s.

‘...Then talk to the hand. Because all this face wants to see is a whack pair of underwear freezing in exactly 3 minutes. I don’t wanna hear promises. I wanna see action.’, Ashley B coldly replied, pointing to the direction of the bathroom.

Ashley A gulped, but nodded, to stay safe. She rushed off to the bathroom and prepared to do just that.

But as she closed the door, and looked in the mirror, holding the pair, she let herself shed one small pathetic tear.

‘Please love me again.’ she thought, as she braced herself to walk out to the kitchen.

It was like a death row march all over again, though Ashley assumed those prisoners never had to carry their underwear while their friends mocked and jeered them. Maybe. Ashley didn’t know how prison worked.

Slowly making her way to the sink, Ashley turned on the cold tap, and sighed. ‘This LITERALLY cannot get any wor…’

[jostepherjoestar]

Hey ✨queen✨ I was wondering if it’s alright if I ask what would happen to La Squadra if the child member’s future self got sent to the past and their child self got sent to the future. Their future self who’s a teen is wearing grunge clothing and is kinda going through the ‘screw off im a teen who wants privacy to do my own things’ type attitude.

La Squadra kid/Pomo as a teenager 😤

sfw // Pomo/LS kid

note: i changed the idea anon, so sorry to do it. It felt like a more suitable course for Pomo’s story to adjust it, I do still hope you’ll enjoy it without the time travel!

Absolutely adore the idea of Pomo-rino being a grungy/goth teen!! They’d 100% have a septum piercing and denounce capitalism (as they should) and just be all broody. I do think that the relationships they’ve built with La Squadra have become so strong and close that even though they enjoy their privacy, Pomo would still know they could count on all of the guys 😊 enjoy!! 💖✨

As extravagant as the rest of La Squadra is, Pomo’s approach to life and fashion changed after turning 16. Before, they loved indulging in more experimental outfits, stranger styles and colours that seemed to make them fit among the rest of the lavish men. But now, after discovering the amazingness that is thrift-shopping and the angsty, introspective style of grunge and goth -that by the time Pomo reached age 17 had already come and gone out of style- there was no turning back.

Along with the style came the attitude: communication went a bit rougher and replies seemed shorter. Going out without letting anyone know when they’d be back or even with who they’d be going with. After some stern talks with a couple of eye rolls Pomo promised to text them whenever they went out.

Pomo had already finished their high-school diploma with little help and extremely high marks at age 14 so there was no need to even think about the highs and lows that came along with it anymore. That certain melancholy and emotional openness of the grunge and goth (music) genres brought Pomo some comfort; it felt a bit lonely, a former child assassin- now teen assassin- doesn’t make new friends that easily. Especially since that silent streak never quite left Pomo, preferring a quieter demeanour. They had become a little more vocal over time, offering the occasional opinion on serious work related matters.

God they were so well spoken too. A voice so soft- almost trained, letting out brilliant things like a calm stream manoeuvring a rocky valley, knowing just where to go and what places to avoid.

Being quiet had many upsides, most of them learned from Risotto who loved to spend time with Pomo, just observing the calamity that was their squad. That way no social queue was left unnoticed, navigating every situation with grace, often times coming to aid others in their reserved manner. Pomo will often bring warm drinks or snacks to their tired teammates who thoroughly appreciate the small gestures. Do not be fooled though, that dry wit also carried through with age. The comments often so unexpected which made them all the more hilarious, the squad is sure not to linger on sipping their drinks around Pomo. (lotsa spit takes lol)

Prosciutto and Ghiaccio have the most issues with Pomo’s new style and attitude. (they seemed more a bit more broody and open to talking back every once in a while) Zio Ghiaccio and papa Prosci especially hated the thrifting part! “Why would you buy worn clothes AND rip them even further? Pomo what’s the point?” Prosciutto just does not get it. Why pay any money for those strange clothes that smelled like mothballs?! “It’s not like like you don’t make enough money to buy clothes that aren’t ripped.” Ghiaccio prefers not to think about it too much, knowing just how much it riles him up. At some point he just has to let these damn teens be, no matter how much they annoy him with their “emo attitude”. These two will try anything, even gifting Pomo clothes they think would fit way better. Only for them to end up in a thrift-shop, Pomo likes being able to donate to the cycle of clothes, much to the two’s chagrin.

Formaggio and Risotto are WAY too lenient in letting Pomo do whatever they please. Attitude or not, they think it’s kind of funny to see them grow into such an open minded young adult with a headstrong attitude. Both are fans of experimenting with style and overall expression to find one that works in the end. The men both know Pomo well enough, they’ve already proved to be wise and capable of making well thought through decisions so they trust Pomo with this just as much. Although Risotto is not a fan of their choice in tight crop-tops. HAH! The irony! After some grumbling and Pomo assuring them that their jacket covers it up anyway, Risotto doesn’t have much ground to stand on (not that he ever had, the man’s tits are out at work). Formaggio truly couldn’t care less, showing a little skin never hurt him so why refuse them the expression? They look cool in those dark threads!

Who do you think drives Pomo to the thrift-shop? MELONE: eager father figure and fashion enabler! (with a cool motorcycle!!) He loves sticking it to the man just as much as Pomo right now. He’s really into the whole fashion aspect, picking out piles upon piles of possible pieces to try out. The thrift shop workers are less than pleased with the mess they leave but Pomo is sure to leave a sizeable donation after checking out! Melone is one of the few to voice their concern for Pomo’s change in behaviour. He just wants them to be alright and feel somewhat ok with their strange life, keeping in mind to frequently ask if they still want this lifestyle. Melone wouldn’t restrict them from doing more rebellious stuff, he’d just prefer to know what was going on so he doesn’t need to overthink or worry every time Pomo’s out.

Illuso LOVES encouraging ‘bad’ behaviour! Want to stay out past bedtime? Sure why not, come back by sun-up and just act like you woke up early to watch the sun rise. Snap back at Prosciutto or Risotto? Go for it, see what happens! Over the years he’s grown more fond of the kid but never really took up a big role in offering them any parental care. He cares of course, but just from a distance. Maybe he’s a bit intimidated by their smarts and those eyes that never really changed, still so intruding when they meet his, seeming to search his very soul. For once Illuso’s pride knows better than to get in Pomo’s way.

Pesci is so easy to convince to join the movement! He’s warmed up a lot more to Pomo, gone from thinking they’re some weird scary kid to an admirable and still somewhat scary teen. When Pomo starts becoming more goth/grungy he’ll be impressed with their style change, wondering if he should get a cool leather jacket too. Pomo still likes to prank him from time to time. Telling all sort of wild theories to impress Pesci and let him babble on about them to Prosciutto and the rest of the gang who already caught onto the whole charade. Strangely Pesci looks up to Pomo, admiring them for trying out new things and not being afraid to ruffle a few feathers in their team.

[coldtomyflash]

I've seen your speech pattern analysis on Flash characters. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to create speech patterns for OC characters?

oh heck this is one of the coolest questions i’ve ever received.

i’m gonna try not to go overboard/overwhelming and just give a bit of advice, and then if you want more details please come back and follow up!

There’s a few things to think about up front with character voices / speech patterns. The biggest and most obvious is language and cultural background. The second is personality. The third is personal history. Fourth, briefly, is gender. And the final one I’d say is idiosyncrasies to avoid ‘same voice’.

Culture and Group Dynamics

Depending on the setting, there’s a decent chance you’ll be writing characters from different cultural backgrounds. Even if you’re focusing on a single culture, there will be subcultures. Even if you’re focusing on a single narrow group of people, there will be age and generational differences.

Think about where your character is from. If it’s a fantasy world, that’s still (and even more, in some ways) important. What country, what ethnicity, what mother tongue? Did they grow up urban or rural? High socio-economic status or working class? What sort of educational background and peer group did they have growing up (and presently) and how does that factor into their vocabulary and mannerisms, if at all.

All of these can influence how people talk. There are regional accents and different modes of speaking to signal your group membership. There is code-switching across groups, for those who have had to learn multiple linguistics codes to survive and thrive in society. 

How much slang does this group and therefor this character use? What references (modern, outddated, topical, etc) do the rely on? What kind of references (pop culture, music, academic, etc)? What colloquialisms and proverbs do they say? Are these the same or different to their characters, even within the same culture, subculture, or group, and is it because they’re from a different place/sub-group or because of their idiosyncrasies?

You can use these to help your reader get to know more about your character’s background without having to spell it all out directly. Speech patterns and style are a great way to show instead of tell when it comes to details that are hard to drop in organically in other ways.

An important caveat: don’t write a bilingual character who switches languages in speech unless you’re ready to do a bit of research on that. In AATJS I did an absolutely horrific job of this because I was thinking more about fronting the fact that character was Italian rather than thinking through how people actually talk, and it came out exotifying and embarrassing. It’s important to make sure that the way you use language to bring in a character’s cultural and/or ethnic background feels authentic and manifests is a way that respects that language and its users. You can write a character with a complex cultural history without using multiple languages if you’re unprepared to do research and talk to bilingual speakers.

Personality

Probably the most salient thing in a writer’s mind when they’re trying to write character voices: is this the funny character? the serious one? the brainy one? etc.

Don’t overuse stereotypes and archetypes for creating speech patterns (or characters in general) if you’re trying to make a rounded, 3-dimensional character. Instead, go about three levels deeper.

Think about whether they’re introverted or extraverted, whether they are neurotypical or neurodivergent, whether they are introspective enough to express their own emotions clearly or whether they stumble when asked why they did a particular thing or feel a particular way (most people don’t or can’t clearly articulate exactly why they did something or how they feel, and come at things a bit sideways to circle around their motives and interior realities when pressed to make them external and concretely verbal).

Is this character calm, is their voice soothing, do they speak slowly? Are they excitable and loud and is their speech free-flowing? Are they angry? Do they swear? Do they use references for humour or are they more into puns? Do they laugh at their own jokes? Do they talk with their hands?

This character has social anxiety: how does that manifest in her speech? Does she clam up and get very quiet when she gets nervous, or does she go rapidfire and a little too loud (does she process by turning in or by distracting herself by turning outward)? Does she get very careful and deliberate in choosing her words (is she a bit high-strung?)? Ask yourself which fits best with the other elements of her personality and what you want the reader to know/interpret about her. 

This character is incredibly smart and a bit awkward: how does that manifest in their speech? Do they tend to use 5-dollar words, or do they expend a lot of energy choosing their words more carefully (how considerate are they to their audience when speaking and does that influence their speech)? Do they stumble over their words and explaining things, or are they good at making points with clear language learned from a lifetime of tutoring and helping others?

This character is the bff, who tries hard to make sure everyone else is happy first: how does that manifest in his speech? How does he switch between his happy-mask versus his more authentic self, and what changes in tone, word-choice, and inflection come in when he does?

-

Personal History

I’m only drawing a distinction between this and personality (archetype, really) so that I can draw attention to ways to add simultaneously unique and shared layers to characters that are distinct but related to group dynamics.

Here’s sort of what I mean: the level of education of a mother (or primary caregiver) of an infant can determine that infant’s vocabulary size. While we can break down all the ‘why is that’ layers to this, the one I want to point is to the simple truth that the more education a person does, the more specialized language they end up learning over time. This doesn’t have to be formal education though -- the more you learn about something and the more you read and access new knowledges and perspective, the more and more words you learn, and then if you start using those words, they trickle down to those close to you.

So.

What’s your character’s educational background? Is it the same��as their friends who you are also writing? Is the same as their family’s? How does this character’s family influence their speech? Are they formal, informal, warm, authoritative? 

If you’re writing siblings, they’ll have some shared things! But also some very different ones! Me and my sister talk nothing alike in terms of vocabulary, but a lot alike in terms of mannerisms whenever we spend a bit of time together!

If your characters grew up around each other, they’ll have a lot of the same references. People from the same cities or regions will have things specific to that region, either due to sub-culture effects or because of local references. 

The city of Calgary, Canada for instance has the Plus15 which are a connected pedway system between the buildings in downtown, so named because they are 15feet above the ground. Drive 3 hours north to the city of Edmonton, and you have an underground pedway just called the pedways, no special name. Go a few provinces east to Toronto and their underground pedway system downtown is called PATH. These are all known to locals and part of the vernacular, but are opaque to people outside those cities. And the whole idea of them is probably opaque to people who aren’t from super cold cities that don’t require building-connecting pedway systems for pedestrians to get around high-density areas like downtown (or university campuses) without going out into the cold. 

Friends, families, and groups are like that too. In-jokes, shared histories, speaking in references. What are your characters’ relationships to each other and how does that history influence the way they approach talking to each other?

-

Gender

I don’t want to spend too much time on this one because ugh, gender. What even is it?

But like it or not, it has an impact on our speech patterns. There are cultural and societal norms in how men and women are likely to speak, and breaking those norms will be noticed regardless of whether you’re trans, enby, queer, or not. There are norms that people who are queer may fall into as well, sometimes without even noticing at first. A lot of these aren’t about word choice per se but instead about mannerisms and tone and body language, but some overlap or are specific to language.

Speaking in broad generalizations here, women use more emotional language and tend to speak with more hesitancies/qualifications. So more “i think, i feel” and less “it is”. More conversations that front emotions and dig deeper into those, with longer sentences to explain in detail. The obvious caveat is that personality matters more (i.e., is this a person who likes to talk about their emotions in detail or not) but it is something to consider because there will be general but subtle differences that you can use to help further distinguish your characters’ voices. 

Sidenote: this can also be exacerbated by different cultural backgrounds and languages (a simple example is Japanese which has different words for “I” depending on your gender as well as your personality, familiarity with the other persons in the conversation, and situational appropriateness, so interesting ways that gender and social expectations intersect in language).

Anyway this isn’t typically a huge problem except that I’ve found that a lot of writers have a tendency to overgeneralize the speech patterns that fit with their ascribed gender due to early-life socialization, or conversely to overgeneralize patterns that fit with their gender identity (when not cis) either due to heavily identifying with their gender identity’s speech model (or sometimes possibly due to a knee-jerk sort of backlash). I say this as an enby who both struggles with it and notices it and tries to edit and correct for it. 

I could get into all sorts of examples of ways this can lead to voice issues, but in general i think the point here is to make sure you’re writing any given character in view of that character’s personality and history, with gender only as a modifier for how some of these might come out in subtle ways but which can be important to help tell us about your character (and if you’re writing queer characters, it’s all the more important to consider how their relationship with gender and socialization might impact which speech models and styles they identify more with).

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Idiosyncrasies

So, you’ve got a character. You’ve got their personality and history down. You know how they manifest in their speech. And you’re still getting some ‘same voice’ issues.

People really are unique snowflakes. Let that be reflected in their speech.

This person uses contractions differently than that one. This one says “ain’t” and that one says “isn’t.”

This person makes Simpsons references and that one doesn’t like Simpsons, and makes Brooklyn Nine Nine references instead. That other one doesn’t use referential humour much at all. This one loves old movies and hasn’t seen any of the new stuff so they make references all the time but no one ever notices.

This one loves the word “excoriate” and that one doesn’t even know what it means because what the hell, who uses the word excoriate?

This one talks about food a lot, it overlaps with their interests. This one uses metaphors. This one grunts in response. This one exclaims. This one says “like” and that one hates it. That one refers to themselves in third person. This other one uses reflective language an usual amount (e.g., “love me some candy”). This other one keeps misusing the word inconceivable and that one speaks almost without contractions but still comes off as more charming and humorous while correcting him.

I have an aunt who says “girl” or “girlfriend” a fuck-ton and she has been my whole life and I don’t know why because none of her sisters do, but she does and it annoys me so much the way she says it. I swear a lot when I’m feeling casual despite never ever doing it in a professional or even slightly-less-than-relaxed space, so the idiosyncrasy of comfort levels has a massive impact on my vocabulary in ways which, I promise, almost no one who meets me first in a professional space expect.

Let your characters be individuals and try to make them as unique as possible without overdoing it, or over-relying on a single verbal tendency or habit. 

-

And ... that’s all I’ve got for now. Completely failed at being concise. I meant to give like 2-3 bullet points or examples for each, not paragraphs, but here we are. That’s one of my verbal tendencies: long flowing verbosity :)

Hope this helps! 

[tiffdawg]

Two Halves | A Javier Peña x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: T | Warnings: A dash of angst but only to make the fluff sweeter. Alcohol. 

Request: Part of the 500 Celebration! @jigglemiwa requested 49 (You’re the best part of me) or 42 (You keep that photo of us in your wallet?) from this list with Javier Peña. I thought these were great prompts so I used both! Thank you for the request – this was so much fun to write!

A/N: This is so soft y’all. I was blushing while I wrote it. 

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Two Halves

It was like any other night after a long day of work. You were at the usual bar a few blocks away from the embassy apartment complex with a warming glass of tequila cradled between your hands. Javier sat next to you, his discarded jacket thrown over the back of his barstool, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked as tired and disheveled as you felt.

It was a quiet evening, both in the bar where a few other patrons milled about, nursing drinks and chatting idly with whoever would listen, and between you and your partner. Or, former partner. That was what made that night unique: it was your last night together in Bogotá.

Now that the Cali Cartel had folded in on itself, the DEA’s presence in Colombia was downsizing and most attachés were transferring elsewhere. You had a lucrative offer for a position in Mexico. And yet, you were wavering as an inexplicable bout of indecision kept you from making a final call about your future. You’d thought that the last day of work would bring some sense of closure or light a fire under you that would make your decision easier. But it hadn’t. Even then, as you traced the rim of your glass, you couldn’t make up your mind. You were much too busy stealing glances at the man sitting next to you.

As for Javier Peña, his job was done, and he was going home. When he asked you to grab a drink with him that night, you’d expected he would be in a bit of a celebratory spirit. Instead, he was in one of his introspective moods, preferring to sit quietly next to you as he lost himself in his own mind. You doubted he’d ever admit it, but you knew he preferred to have someone by his side, even in moments like that. And if you were being honest with yourself, so did you – especially if it was him.

So, the two of you fell into an old, familiar silence broken only by a deep baritone crooning in Spanish that crackled softy through an old radio behind the bar. You weren’t paying close enough attention to make out the lyrics but if you had to guess, he was probably singing about love. They always were. 

Javier sighed at the last sip of tequila in his glass before downing it. As if he’d been waiting for his cue, the bartender appeared and asked if he wanted another round. Javier turned to you with a raised brow.

You finished off the last of your drink and set your empty glass next to his. You’d had a couple of drinks over as many hours. You could get away with one more. “Why not?” 

While the bartender made your drinks, you watched Javier as he leaned against the counter, head held in one hand as he traced the veins of the wood with the pad of his finger. He’d been contemplating something the entire night and had yet to work out a solution to his problem. And it weighed heavily on his mind. You couldn’t figure out what was bothering him so much. His job was over. That heavy burden he’d been carrying around for years had been lifted from his shoulders and he was free from the DEA. Even if he’d never said it out loud before, you knew that was what he wanted deep down. He should’ve been happy.

Just as you opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, a pair of drinks were placed in front you. You thanked the bartender and pulled your glass toward you. As always, Javier reached for his wallet to pay the tab. And, as always, you tried to stop him.

“Javi, you don’t–” 

“I want to,” he insisted, cutting you off before you could protest, “It’s our last night out together, cariño.”

Your cheeks warmed at his favorite name for you. It never seemed to lose its effect on you. Of course, you would’ve preferred it if he meant its true sentiment. And while you didn’t want to admit to yourself that it was the last night you would spend with him, he was finally talking, so you tried to make light of the situation. “Can you believe that? That it’s all over?”

He only shook his head, his face pinching in a slight scowl, as he counted out the correct payment and a generous tip. As he sorted through his cash, something fell from between two crisp bills. You recognized it immediately: it was a photo strip from an old camera booth. The film was faded and bent, well-worn and maybe even well loved. As if It had been hidden away in his wallet for a while, but repeatedly handled. In fact, you could’ve guessed just how long he’d been carrying it around down to the day.

“You keep those photos of us in your wallet?” you asked, your voice not quite hiding your disbelief, as you gently picked up the photo strip. It was a lost memory from one drunken night out when the two of you were trying to unwind after a particularly bad day. In each of the two frames, the two of you were grinning. First, happily at the camera – or, at least, in the general direction of the camera – and then at each other. 

“I just– I like to look at it sometimes. When, you know–” Javier stumbled, clearly caught off guard. “It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not,” you assured. You tore your eyes from your smiling faces in the photos to look at him, silently pleading for him to continue with a careful hand on his arm.

He faltered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally spoke. “It helps when you’re not around. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you keeping me in line all the time. Sometimes I look at you and I– I know what I need to do.” He finally looked at you, his dark eyes shining with some new emotion. “You make me want to be better. Hell, you’re the best part of me.” 

“Javi,” you sighed as you blinked away the unwanted tears blurring your vision. 

“I know I shouldn’t say that–”

“No. No, you don’t understand.” The two of you regarded each other for a drawn-out breath. He watched you carefully, waiting for you to explain, as you racked your brain for the right words. Coming up short, you swallowed hard and tried a different approach. “Can I show you something?”

His brows furrowed adorably at you and you resisted the urge to laugh. Reaching for your purse, you took your own wallet and shuffled through the crumpled bills until you found what you were searching for.

You gingerly set the last two frames of the photo strip on the counter, aligning the torn edge perfectly with Javier’s photos to complete the picture. “I like to keep you close too,” you said softly. “Sometimes I– I need you.” 

Javier’s expression shifted into some mix of shock and awe that looked rather foreign on him as he considered your statement and the completed photo strip laid out before him. In the back of your mind, you’d always wondered if the torn edge on yours matched with a second set of photos. Together, the four frames told the story of one stolen moment as it unfolded between the two of you. In an almost reverent gesture, he picked up your half and ran his thumb over the last frame. It was a blurry black and white photo of him cradling your face as he pressed his lips to yours.

“I kissed you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Apparently,” you said with a nervous laugh that was more of a sigh. “Don’t feel bad. We’d had a few too many that night. I don’t remember it either.”

“I wish I did,” he mumbled. When he faced you again, he almost looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared,” you answered with a shrug. “I didn’t know if you remembered. And if you did, you never said anything about it, so I thought you might’ve wanted to forget.”

“Cariño, I don’t think you understand,” he sighed, running a hand over his mouth as he placed your half under his again before turning his body toward yours. “I’ve been sitting here all night trying to figure out how to tell you that I love you.”

The chill that ran down your spine was followed by the sweetest warmth spreading from your chest throughout your body. And the tiniest oh escaped past your parted lips at his confession. “I think you just did.”

“I guess so,” he beamed as a look of relief washed over him. “I love you,” he said easily.

“I love you too, Javier,” you promised, finally speaking those words aloud to him you’d felt in your heart for so long.

You both moved at the same instant, leaning in to crash your lips together in a long-awaited second kiss. One neither of you would forget. As his hands cupped your face to hold you near, your lips came together and pulled apart again and again, you smiled into his kiss at the thought that the two of you must’ve looked just as you did in that photo you cherished so much.

“What?” he asked, leaning away just enough to look at you.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy,” you said wetly. You’d wanted that – wanted him – for so long. You’d all but resigned yourself to the idea that the photo of a kiss you didn’t remember was the closest you’d ever get to the real thing. But the real thing was so much better than you ever could’ve imagined. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“I know what you mean.” When he spoke next, his tone shifted to something more serious. “Wherever you go next, I’ll follow.” Javier knew about your job offer. You’d attempted to solicit his advice about it on numerous occasions. Only then did his reluctance to help you make sense. “I just want to be with you, mi amor.”

You knew he was sincere. You heard it in his steady voice. Saw it in his determined eyes. And felt it in your heart. There would be no separating the two of you now. As you took in the tired lines of his handsome face, you knew exactly what you wanted the future to look like for the both of you. All of your doubt and indecision faded away as you finally allowed yourself to ask for what you wanted most. 

“I want out,” you admitted with an exhausted exhalation. “I don’t want to go to Mexico or anywhere else they might try to send me. I want to go home, Javi. I want to go home with you.”

Without another word, he picked up the two halves of the photo strip and tucked them both safely in his wallet. For some reason, you doubted you would get yours back. Then he stood and held out a hand to you. “Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you teased, rolling your eyes even as you slipped your hand into his.

“I know what you meant,” he scoffed as he led you out of the bar and toward. “We have plans to make. Together.”

“I like the sound of that,” you said around a smile as you leaned into his side.

“Although,” Javier drawled as he stopped walking and pulled you into him with two strong hands on your hips, “We definitely need to make up for lost time.” He nuzzled his nose against yours before capturing your bottom lip between his plush ones. It was a kiss so soft and slow it made you dizzy. He was intoxicating in a whole new way. Better than the finest alcohol. And you’d happily drink him in as long as you could.

“I think we can multitask,” you quipped, in between heated kisses. He hummed his agreement but made no move to part from you. The two of you stayed like that for a long time, kissing under the golden beam of a streetlight on a quiet road in Bogotá. It would’ve made for a lovely photograph.

In the end, you never got your half of the photo back from him. But it didn’t matter. Years later, that photo strip sat framed on the nightstand next to your shared bed with a single piece of clear tape forever mending the two halves.

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

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