#can i just get the best and most convenient headphones ever. for free.

[lesbiangiratina]

Oh my god i need to get a phone with a headphone jack before i end it all.

[noblenoble26]

Htc One Series - Htc One X And Htc One S

Mafia ii Definitive Edition torrent lets you access Craiglist, the popular commercials website, using your Android contact. You can do pretty much anything- from browsing the ads to even posting an advert complete with photos from your phone! Useful and convenient, Craigsphone is a must for people like myself who can't go a period of time without checking on the items available on CL! At present, the two main contenders in the Smartphone OS world the actual Google's Android and Apple's iOS 4. With the new Froyo update to your Android Phones, Google has bashed Apple's OS and Android leaves iOS 4 far linked to. Almost all the performance benchmarks have proven that Froyo has outperformed Cherry. The Android has a free of charge app for just about anything, including real-time translation with voice recognition. Granted, most folks will organic this form of an application, free or not, but still there if anyone needed get a it. The phone has quad band GSM network (850/900/1800/1900) along with GPRS and EDGE provider. It also has 3G network with HSUPA 2Mbps and HSDPA seven.2 Mbps. For connecting to other compatible devices it has Bluetooth version 5.0 with facility of enhanced data rate and A2DP. Wi-Fi technology makes it easier for an individual hassle free connections. World wide web browser to barefoot jogging comes with full flash support which a wonderful feature. HTC Hero has Qualcomm MSM 7201A 528 MHz CPU along with RAM of 288 Mb. Its highly customized Android OS version just one particular.5 is one from the striking capabilities. Mafia ii Definitive Edition Codex wouldn't know it from this app's name, but Astro File Manager is one of several top most common free Android apps. It truly is a task manager and among Android's best one at by which. You will be able to manage files, read and your windows.zip files, send files, backup applications sometimes more with this unique app. This can be a Android app if there are many banking/credit card accounts and crave the knowledge of be perfect for stay in control of them from one easy-to-use form. This finance app is nicely built along with the UI is a convenience to the big eyes. This is one of those apps basically keeps looking. What do I mean? Well, the more you use it, additional features discover and exterior lights ideas you've got to utilize the house! IMO, it's a must acquire. Well maybe you ever wished that you would have an app that an individual free turn by turn navigation? Or how a good app that enables free SMS and voice calling through just an online plan? Standard haven't, because then you'd understand presently there isn't an app for the. Android doesn't control its users experience. They respect the simple truth that we paid for that device and therefore should utilize it how there are fit. 7)Motorola Quench synchronizes your phonebook contacts, media content, messaging and email trail with your social networking sources inside a home present.It has entertainment feature such as media players that connects online with YouTube, TuneWiki, SoundHound and GoTv. There's also FM stereo streaming support.It has a SWYPE data input option feature. It is a 3G phone on the triple band UMTS/HSDPA/HSUPA when a quad band GSM/GPRS/EDGE on 2G. Offers WiFi, GPS, Bluetooth one or two.1 with A2DP for local data gives. It has a 5 megapixel autofocus camera with LED flash and CIF video recording at 25fps. For headphones, you can opt between a wired 4.5mm headphone jack or wireless Bluetooth A2DP. Mafia ii Definitive Edition Repack , namely white, black, purple and licorice.

[monst]

Hello, can I request hcs nsfw for Shigaraki, Dabi and Hawks with a camgirl?

@Namelive💋

Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Takami Keigo (Hawks) x Camgirl! reader 

Warnings: Voyeurism, Sexy time activities, exhibitionism, I’ve been meaning to post this for the longest. :D And ya know me (Well those of you who do XD) you're obviously gonna get a mini backstory for each hc :P (Mind you I know about the pfl and all that but I like to go with the flow of the anime as some people don’t read the manga. So if you’re a manga reader and are like wtf they ain’t in the warehouse no more shhhhhh I know) Don’t you just love how my headcanon’s turn into stories…. I promise I’m working on it :’)

 Shigaraki Tomura

             Shigaraki was suspicious. It befuddled him when you’d come back to the hideout with enough takeout to feed an army. All of you were wanted criminals how on earth was it that you made so much cash legally? How did he piece together that you were earning legal cash? Well it was obvious it was because the general public didn’t know your face. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t seen it till recently. When Giran first brought you along with Dabi and Toga you were strict about keeping the mask on.

             Key word being ‘were’. He understood how beauty worked but no one was gonna pay you for being cute and you certainly didn’t look like a sugar baby. And if you were you definitely wouldn’t spend your free time committing crime and hanging out in a dingy warehouse. The curiosity was eating at him and he was determined to find out how you made money.

             He had asked. But your lips were sealed. “It would be convenient to us all if you told us.” He was not amused when you flipped him off. There was something about Shigaraki knowing that made you feel ashamed….. He persisted. Followed you. But time and time again you managed to evade him.

             That was until he caught sight of some middle-aged man looking at porn in an Internet café. He had been tailing you as he didn’t want to rely on Kurogiri for this task. Not only was it pointless but also foolish as his purple mist garnered attention.  But back to the screen on the man’s laptop. ‘Who the hell watched porn like that?’ The man was stupid in Shiragaki’s opinion and his crimsion eyes were about to leave the screen when he saw it…

             When he saw you… @NameLive a tacky name but it got the message across that and no one would make the connection to your villain name. As he watched, he noticed a couple of things. One being that he had never seen you showing so much skin. His eyes roamed over the exposed flesh greedily. He also noticed that you were a couple of minutes into the show your fingers pinching your nipple as your other hand slid down to your clothed cunt to rub against your clit through the fabric.

             He felt his breathing pickup when you pulled them to the side showing him/everyone how wet you were. Your fingers dipped into your tight hole and when you pulled them out he felt his cock harden even more. Your fingers stretched the gooey liquid and he felt flushed when you lapped at the wet strings. He watched for loner realizing that he really wanted to hear you. But the man had headphones that muffled your voice……. Well the man was wearing headphones….

             He quickly walked out with the phone trying not to draw attention to himself. He stopped before he got to the hideout… It was the first time he came anywhere else besides his room… From then on, he continued to watch your shows. You were relieved when he stopped asking questions. But you were also confused with the tone of badly conceal urgency in his voice when he’d usher you to leave for your ‘job’.

             He was hooked on your shows. His beady eyes drinking in your nude form whenever you’d twist or bend to pleasure yourself. Your voice was addicting, and he found his eyes rolling back when you’d cry out in ecstasy. Cumming at the same time as you was usually his goal.

 He got off on the fact that only he knew what you were doing. You were a villain by day covered head to toe in fabric and your mask usually muffled your voice and that was the most appealing factor to Shigaraki. It was a complete transformation. He had to stop himself from staring every time you returned from your live, because he knew what laid beneath the cloth.

To put the cherry on top, he was the only one in the league to know your given name. He had almost used it. In fact, Shigaraki was getting tired of watching you through a screen. He wanted to look at you without the pixels, he wanted to watch as you removed each article of clothing. To watch you melt from one persona to the other. To touch and squeeze your supple flesh.

It was almost as if the universe were with him. “Hey guys, I want to try something new. What do you guys think about public masturbation? Yup I’m experimenting with exhibitionism! Comment down below which places you think I should go visit!” You winked. Shiragaki didn’t hesitate and his fingers quickly typed down the word. There was a smirk on his face when you read it.

“Warehouse?” You mulled it over. It wasn’t impossible to find a time where everyone would be away. Besides it was a fairly large place with different rooms. You smiled thinking of all the donations you would get for it. And it wasn’t out of your comfort zone. “I think we’ll do the warehouse first.” You beamed.

Now all Shigaraki had to do was wait.

  Dabi

             You were sitting on a bar stool when it happened. What happened? Another drunk had recognized your face and had asked you for a quick fuck. You only scowled at him. You loved your job, getting payed to pleasure yourself was the easiest money you’ve ever made. But dickweeds like the man that pestered you was a down side. You had tried to be polite about it but he got physical grabbing your arm and pulling you off the stool.

Dabi had watched on. It was none of his business. “Han let her go.” The bartender ordered. The man only spat back “She’s a whore, she does this online all the time. Should be no problem right you filthy cockwhore.” It was those words that got Dabi to look at you closely. And low and behold you were one of his favorite camgirls @Namelive.

He was no hero but he had stood up and blocked the man’s path. “Move it scarface!” The drunkard hollered. “Let her go and I might just let you live.” He replied cooly, his blue flames licking at your cheeks. It seemed as though his drunken spell was broken when he saw the flames. He recognized the man and high tailed it out of there tossing you into his arms with a fearful cry of “I didn’t want that whore anyways.” He watched the man run off with a smirk then looked down to you. Your glossy eyes looked at him gratefully “T-Thank you.” If he smiled any wider, he’d pop a staple. You looked just as adorable as you did online. “No problem doll~”

It was cute how you promised to make it up to him. But he followed you nonetheless after all he wouldn’t pass up the chance to get his dick wet. Especially with a cutie like you. Truth be told that was why he stepped in. A disgusting slob like that man would only taint you and you’d stop your live shows. That or he would have killed you when he finished the act. And, Dabi had only recently found your page it’d be a shame if his new favorite doll disappeared.

“I-I don’t usually do this.” You stuttered. Oh, he knew. You had yet to invite someone onto your shows. But as you were paying him back you couldn’t deny that he was one of the best lays you have ever had. “D-do you think we could do this again?” It was cute that you thought it was a one time thing.

Needless to say, he came back wherever he felt like it. Sometimes he watches you while you do your shows. Those were some of your best because you got off on knowing he was watching you. Sure, you had others watching you online but something about him sitting on a chair near your camera watching you as you rode a thick dildo had you Cumming harder than ever.  Your eyes just rolled back as you overstimulated yourself into a whiny mess as he dragged his hand up and down his length.

It was during a show that you had motioned him over. His face was out of view, but his cock was lodged in your throat. Afterwards you had asked him if he wanted to be in more of them. Dabi wasn’t opposed to the idea but, he’d have to make a few changes. “On one condition dollface.” “What?” “We cut that vanilla bullshit out.” “O-Oh” You weren’t opposed to that idea~

  Takami Keigo (Hawks)

             Takami was a very popular hero. But no one knew where he lived, and he would like to keep it that way. It was difficult for him to get away with sneaking in and out of his home, but he was glad that he had such great neighbors who always covered for him. He wanted to get home but was surrounded by the media? No problem he would just call Mrs. Choi the nice Korean lady who lived in 1D she would immediately appear with her van to hide him away. Or Mr. Umani who used his quirk to change his appearance so that he could get in and out of his apartment unnoticed.

             Ms. Shirakuna from 3A usually had food for him since she over cooked for her family. Mr. Hinata was always up for a good chat. All in all, he got along with everyone in his building and he was so grateful for their loyalty. But there was one person in his building that caught his fancy. (Lastname) (Name). You had been living in the apartment next door for ages, and he had the worst stereotypical girl next door crush on you.

             You were someone he could depend on for anything, so it wasn’t weird to have him knock on your door at 3am to ask for sugar. Not like that you perverts! The poor bird man sometimes arrives at odd hours due to is occupation and how could you refuse him? As a matter of fact, you would invite him in, and even though you had just been woken you’d whip something warm up for him. He could talk to Mr. Hinata but he preferred to talk to you to wow you with all of his heroic stories.

             If he had one complaint about you it was that you never allowed him into your room. He had access to every other area, but your room was off limits. It tugged at his curiosity especially when you had friends over, and they were allowed in. It made him feel as if you two weren’t as close as he thought.

             He was peeking through the peephole of his apartment one night as he had seen you park your car from his window. He usually didn’t do this, but you were with two questionably looking people. The male had a strange long case and the woman was dressed darky and hung off your body excitedly. You weren’t returning the hug which raised a red flag in his head. Once you were at you unlocked your door, he heard you speak “You guys can set up in my room.”

             Keigo was a bit peeved. Even strangers were allowed into your room? He heaved a sigh and decided to head to bed….. He was drifting when he heard it. Heard what? You! He heard you scream, and he was out of his apartment in a flash. Using the key, you let him have, he unlocked your door and zoomed to your room, he practically dehinged the door.

“(Name)!” Your eyes darted to his golden one when he burst through the door. You felt your face burn in humiliation. Your arms were bound tight in red rope and your legs suspended in the air by ropes that were fastened on your ceiling. Between your legs was a girl named Yumi her tongue was at your clit he fingers buried deep inside your dripping cunt. Takami’s eyes widened at the sight his face reddening in shock.      

“Nice underwear dude, you just messed up our stream.” The man operating the camera sassed. Takami looked down to his endeavor briefs and flushed. “Holy shit isn’t that-“ Yumi didn’t get to finish as you had pushed your cunt to her mouth to shut her up and protect Hawk’s image. Yumi took the hint and kept going her fingers resuming their pace inside you “Ah~”

Takami didn’t know whether to wait for you to finish or keep watching. But when the guy motioned to a stool his decision was made for him….

             (Why was Shigaraki’s so long compared to the others? I... I really don’t know....)

[kissmethroughthebone]

My ex rejected buying me a laptop because "I'm his ex", "we have a tumultuous dynamic already and I don't need anything more complicated", and that due to our past, he wouldn't be open to more than just friends.

The last guy who said that to me ended up sharing a bed with me in less than a month. (A few decent and fun hangouts out and about, fun casual conversation, and conveniently pretending our past never happened while I just so happened to have clear skin, a nice ass, and a great smile? Man, he was putty in my hands.)

And even another man, (the one I've done two different love spells on,) ended up confessing to me that he really loathed how I did petty things behind his back or said crude things directly to him.... but even then, he didn't care.

Why?

Pussy was bomb. And he craved it again. He admitted that would've never happened if he were a virgin still, but, covid + me being hot + for some reason, tinder won't allow him on the app + months of not having it = hair extensions, money for more spiritual supplies, and a delicious meal.

And he obviously got what he want. Hit me up a full week later to tell me how much he wants me again. The only problem was it was late at night when we talked about him getting me some good studio quality headphones, so he most likely had post-nut clarity between the hours of us chatting and him sleeping, soooo he put a pin in it.

But it won't be too hard to get him back. Hell, after what he's been through over me, and how I make him feel and get stuck in his head, its simple.

Almost considered another love spell this month, buuuuut he said he's cutting back on his addiction to sugar. So, not sure that making him some Pie Crust Love Notes with special spices and otherwise, will work. But hey, maybe on the right day, a casual platonic meet up and sliding him some, like "It's honey and sugar free jam" might do the trick. Something small and pleasant.

So long story short:

I've made several men go from ignoring my calls and treating me like crap, to men who would easily spend on me. The hornier and lonelier a man is, the easier. My ex, the Laptop Guy, hesitated on speaking to me, but considering he has not many friends other than me.... he gave in and acted like nothing bad ever happened. (It was tragic, the day we met tons of people told me 'He's a little weird, we aren't close. Wouldn't call us friends or anything'... these are people he's known for five fucking years! Same for the ex he was obsessed with, but whatever.)

Him saying his reasons for not wanting more showed me exactly what he wants... Something noncomplicated, different from our past, but still reminiscent of good times.

He said himself that he never loses sexual attraction, especially to women he's dated or already been with. He just needs to be comfortable with the idea of it happening without drama or our friendship hurt. So pleasant conversation, but not pretending as if I'm afraid to be myself; being overly sweet is yuck. Nope, I'm gonna talk about sex, memes, whatever, as if he's a friend. Either he adapts and enjoys me treating him like a friend, or he acts worthy of girlfriend level reception.

I'll talk about going on dates with sugar daddies and make it clear I have options; that's always worked with these types of men around me. "Just friends" until they see me moving on to better, not into them, then they suddenly want to impress me or reel me away from who I'm actually around. It's so odd but men never make sense.

So, gonna stop caring TOO heavily about what he says. No more holding my tongue about sugaring, dates, whatever. No more meekly avoiding talking about sex and asking about his day, when he usually ignores my texts to watch porn.

Playing up on being his form of stress relief. The girl he actively loves to look forward to.

Plus, me having clearer skin, slimmer, ass fatter, and trying to stay on routine for my teeth whitening.... I can do it, with ease. (And my hair being straightened has wowed people; so that uniqueness would stun him.)

It'll be super easy.

No more being depressed or sad over him. He's still insistent on being in my life and either we end up as friends, I forget him entirely, or he puts his best foot forward to re-woo me again. (Which of course, he will never have the privilege of sex, or me as his girlfriend, without me having everything I want from him.)

Celtx and Backstage acting memberships, a laptop, video games, paid for editor, pedicures, hair salon, good shit. He can wait for me. He's waited for that other girl for years, some months of me rinsing him will do him good, and me, even better.

[morningfears]

Television Romance [Chapter One]

Rating: PG-13 (some swears, nothing major)

Summary: Natalia Adler is a stressed out grad student who attempts to escape the noise of her office by visiting her favorite coffee shop. However, instead of a few hours of writing, she gets a lap full of coffee and a date with the most gorgeous guy she’s ever met.

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter Two

The graduate student office was usually busy, bustling with activity and overflowing with graduate students working on various research projects or grading coursework as well as undergraduate students seeking assistance with assignments. It was always difficult to concentrate among the din, there was always some conversation or another taking place that was much more interesting than writing yet another proposal, but Tuesdays were the worst.

On Tuesdays, the graduate teaching seminar met in the student office. For an hour each week, the teaching assistants dragged whatever chairs they could find to the center of the room and formed a circle to discuss problems that had arisen in their classrooms, questions they had about university policy, and an article on teaching practices they were assigned to - but never actually did - read. The class was supposed to be useful, a way for them all to prepare for their futures as academics, but it usually turned into a shouting match as the stronger personalities argued over one another about best practices in classroom management. And after, when the dust settled and the faculty facilitator was gone, students who didn’t have a one o’clock class stuck around to catch up on whatever departmental gossip they’d missed throughout the week.

Most days, Natalia was able to tune it all out. Her desk was in the corner, hidden behind a flimsy partition, and her noise cancelling headphones worked wonders to drown out the arguments. She didn’t love catching snippets of pointless conversations about which departmental policies were outdated - they all were - or which graduate students were sleeping together but she made it work. However, today was not one of those days.

She had several important deadlines looming over her head - conference submissions, revisions for a potential publication, the first draft of her thesis proposal, all due within days of one another - and she was feeling overwhelmed. The argument as to whether the department was too hard or too soft on students - or whether professors played favorites - was only making things worse. Instead of subjecting herself to two more hours of torture, she decided to pack up her bag and head to the coffee shop across the street. Even if it was loud, it had to at least be less hostile than the office.

She stood, satchel slung over one shoulder with her cellphone and headphones in hand, and glanced over the top of her partition at the girl who sat across from her. Nicole, like Natalia, wore headphones whenever she worked in the office and only glanced up when Natalia tossed a paperclip at her.

“I’m going to Molly’s,” she announced when Nicole pulled her headphones away from her ears and glanced up at her. Natalia struggled to keep her voice quiet in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to herself, though she was half certain she could yell and still not be heard over her colleagues. However, she remained cautious as the last thing she wanted was for anyone to join her. “You want anything?”

“A new job, a better salary, a husband who takes out the trash… I could go on,” Nicole answered, rolling her neck and grinning tiredly at Natalia’s deadpan expression. “I’ll settle for a caramel latte, though. With almond milk and extra caramel, please. I’ll Venmo you.”

“I’ve got it,” Natalia assured her with a wave of her hand as Nicole reached for her cellphone, “you got me boba last week. You have class at three, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Nicole sighed as she dropped the device, straightened up in her chair, and pulled a face as she glanced at the syllabus tacked to her partition wall. “We’re going over how Marxism influenced Burke today. I think I’d rather chew off my own foot than try to teach a group of undergrads about either Marxism or Burke.”

“I know the point of college is to make kids think,” Natalia began as she hoisted her bag a little higher on her shoulder and ambled around her partition to stop beside Nicole’s desk, “but I’m glad I got the class that’s a little more, ‘well, duh,’ than that. We’re going over how fundamentally fucked the US healthcare system is today.”

Nicole paused for a moment, staring at Natalia with a look that reeked of both annoyance and exhaustion, before she dropped her head to her desk and asked, “Is it too late to drop out?”

This was a conversation they’d had at least once a week since their first semester of graduate school and Natalia bit back a laugh as she nodded. “Yep. You’re halfway through your thesis proposal, no quitting now,” she pointed out as she nodded toward the stack of books on religious rhetoric that Nicole had stacked on her desk. “Anyway, only eight more months until we’re free.”

“I’m three pages in,” Nicole informed her, a pitiful whine erupting from her throat as she lifted her head and ran a hand through her unwashed curls. “This is going to be a long semester.”

Natalia, who had been under the impression that she was impossibly behind although she only lacked a completed methodology section, grimaced upon learning just how far behind Nicole was. She gave her friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and, although she had her own deadlines to meet, offered her assistance. “I’ll probably be sticking around after class tonight,” she informed her as she thought about the papers she still needed to grade, “if you need me to help with anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Nicole sighed as she turned in her chair and smiled at Natalia, the exhaustion evident in her features although they were only a month into the semester. “I’m thinking about a writing party on Friday so that people can submit conference papers and then go get hammered after. You in?”

“Always down for drinks after opening myself up for rejection. You can send out an email and maybe follow up with a GroupMe or something. Your husband won’t mind you spending Friday with us?” she asked as she glanced over at the group of students, now talking instead of arguing, that still remained in the room. Although they got on her nerves sometimes, she had grown to love most of them.

“He’s going to a football game with some friends. If I stay home, I’ll just end up falling asleep in the tub with a glass of wine. I’ll send the email after class,” Nicole answered as she grabbed her headphones and moved to reposition them onto her ears. “Go, get out of here before someone stops you. You’ll be back by three?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you have to leave. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over. See you in a bit,” Natalia hummed as she tapped the top of Nicole’s partition before maneuvering around the group that crowded the doorway and stepping out into the hall.

The building itself wasn’t that busy, it rarely was, but campus was teeming with students as Natalia stepped outside. They typically opted for afternoon classes rather than morning ones and it was obvious that classes held after lunch were the most populated as she watched students wander from building to building. Her own undergraduate experience had been very different - classes as early in the morning as she could get them and work in the afternoons until late at night - but she understood the desire to take advantage of the opportunity.

As a graduate student, her schedule was a little different. She was usually the first one to arrive in the office, just to get a little work done, and held office hours during lunch. She was a TA for a class that met on Tuesdays and Thursday at three and had her own classes to attend, with each of the three meeting once a week, starting at six p.m. and ending at around ten. 

She was busier than she had ever been, even busier than the two years she spent working two jobs and overloading her class schedule. It was harder and lonelier than undergrad had been. She had little time to feel human or socialize without anyone outside of her program, however, she told herself that it would all be worth it when she finished and had a master’s degree under her belt.

Natalia made the most of the few minutes it took her to walk from her office to Molly’s, the closest coffee shop to campus that wasn’t the always crowded Starbucks in the library. She rarely got to enjoy her days. They were usually spent locked in the office or cooped up in the library, neither of which had enough windows. Although it was September, fall still seemed a lifetime away. 

She could still smell summer as an occasional ocean breeze wafted through campus. The sun was bright and high in the sky and the air was warm. It felt like the height of summer, as it usually did in Los Angeles, and she was grateful that she’d chosen to wear a dress instead of pants as the slight breeze kept her from overheating as she entered Molly’s.

The little coffee shop was every Instagram obsessed student’s dream. The exterior was nondescript with plain white walls and a small patio with string lights and a few small tables, however, the interior more than made up for it. There were walls covered with ivy - though Natalia didn’t know if it was real or not - and neon signs littered around the space. There was also a loft with tables and chairs that always seemed to be quieter than the rest of the shop.

It had all been too much for her the first time she visited. It seemed gimmicky, not the kind of place she wanted to frequent even if it was convenient, however, her opinion changed the moment she tried the coffee. Her predecessors in the program hadn’t been wrong in telling her that it was the best coffee she could get and that it served as a good hideout when the office got to be too much to handle. She understood why it was frequented by both students and the outside community, even if it took them too close to campus.

Although the coffee shop was bustling with students rushing in and out between classes, filled with the sounds of conversation and the excitement that came with a new school year, it still seemed quieter than the office. After ordering her iced coffee and settling into a table near the entrance, Natalia slipped her headphones back on and bit her lip in concentration as she opened her laptop and began working on the revisions she’d gotten back from her co-author.

It was difficult, not paying attention to the patrons that entered the shop as she loved people watching, but Natalia kept her eyes on her screen and typed away. If she had glanced up, she might have seen the looks that people threw one another as two men entered the shop. She might have seen how a few snuck pictures with their cellphones or how others whispered excitedly as they passed them by. But she didn’t. All she saw was the cursor on her document blink as she tried to string together a coherent sentence.

She focused on typing a new explanation for a concept she thought she’d covered well enough to need no further explanation, a metaphorical dark cloud hanging over her head as she let the reviewer’s comments weigh on her pride. However, as she got into a groove, her word count quickly climbing, she felt something cold splash against her right side.

She sat, stunned, for a few seconds, before she pulled her headphones off and blinked at the coffee that stained the right side of her dress and dripped from her skin. Ice cubes gathered in her lap, cold seeping through the fabric of her dress as she attempted to process what happened. It took a few more seconds of staring at the mess before she picked up her laptop and held it away from the growing pool of coffee. Ice cubes clattered to the floor as she stood and she grimaced as she watched them fall. She looked over the computer, sighing in relief when nothing appeared to be wet, before she lifted her head and looked at the person responsible.

Any other time, her attention would be on how beautiful the man in front of her was. He stood a head taller than her, easily, with broad shoulders and a surprised expression that she was sure matched her own. His blonde curls had fallen into his eyes, obscuring the blue slightly, and his cheeks and upturned nose were tinted pink in embarrassment as he looked over the damage he’d done.

They stared at one another for longer than necessary, his eyes lingering on her face just as hers lingered on his, and she was glad that he at least had the decency to stare at her face instead of the wet fabric clinging to her. The man beside him, slightly shorter and more amused than embarrassed, nudged his friend who moved as if he were a video that had been taken off pause.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, his words rushing together as he watched her place her laptop on a neighboring table to keep it out of harm’s way before she reached for a few napkins. “Fuck, here, let me help you with that.”

His hand bumped into hers as he reached for more napkins and began wiping at the table and, as cliche as it was, she felt a jolt of something shoot down her spine as she quickly pulled her hand away. It was easy for Natalia to ignore the feeling as she watched him make matters worse. She tried to hide it, however, she couldn’t help but grimace as she moved her bag away from the table, slipping it over her head in an effort to avoid him sweeping coffee inside it.

She shook her head at his apology and reached for another handful of napkins. “It’s okay,” she sighed, not wanting to be rude even though she knew she’d have to take time she was planning on using to write to go home and change before class, “at least it was iced coffee.” She tossed the soaked napkins into the trash and bent down to pick up the ice cubes and cup from the ground. “What happened, anyway?”

“He tripped,” the shorter, dark-haired man informed her before he took a sip of his coffee. He still looked amused, positively delighted as he watched his friend struggle to find the right words to say, and Natalia bit back a laugh as she realized everyone had a friend like him.

“I didn’t trip,” the taller man defended with a roll of his eyes, cutting his eyes at his friend before returning his attention to Natalia. He met her eyes sheepishly, the embarrassment softening his features as he explained, “Someone bumped into me on their way in and I, uh…” He trailed off, clearly having planned on saying that he tripped, and dropped his gaze to the floor as Natalia laughed.

“Tripped?” she finished, a smile on her lips despite the situation. When the taller man grimaced, bringing the hand not full of soaked napkins up to rub at the back of his neck, she laughed once more.

“Fine, I tripped,” he acknowledged, “but it wasn’t just being clumsy. Someone really did bump into me.” He gave his explanation more to his friend than to her and she wondered how often he found himself tripping over thin air. He looked solid, like he wouldn’t be the type to trip over his own two feet, but looks could be deceiving and she knew from personal experience how annoying it was to be the clumsy friend.

“It’s okay,” she assured him, a little more sincere in her assurance this time as she offered him a genuine smile. “Nothing spilled on my laptop and it wasn’t boiling so, worst case scenario was avoided. I think I’ll just not sit near the door next time, though.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good call,” he agreed. His lips were quirked in a smile, grateful that she wasn’t yelling at him, and he still held the soaked napkins in his hands. “I still feel bad, though. Can I make it up to you; buy you a coffee or something?” he asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice that told her he wasn’t just looking to make up for spilling coffee on her.

As much as it pained her to turn him down - and it hurt quite a bit as she found him to be beautiful, even in basketball shorts and a t-shirt - she didn’t have time. “That would be great,” she began, a rueful smile on her lips as she grabbed her laptop and slid it into her bag, “but I have to run. I need to go get changed before class. It’s really okay, though. No big deal.”

She didn’t miss the nudge his friend gave him and raised an eyebrow as she watched him swat at his friend’s elbow. “I, uh, how about dinner, then?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. 

He looked so earnest, his skin still tinted pink and his eyes wide, and she felt a giddy excitement bubble in the pit of her stomach. He was gorgeous, the kind of guy she never imagined would be interested in her, and she wanted to give him a chance. She didn’t know him, didn’t know if that chance would turn into a disaster, but she found herself wanting to take that risk.

“I have class until ten tonight,” she told him, biting back a coo when his face dropped at what he assumed was her rejection, “but if you tell me your name, I think I could free up my Friday night for dinner.”

He blinked, surprised at how her sentence ended, and smiled at her. He had a unique smile, his teeth on full display and tongue pressed to the back of them, and his eyes brightened as he nodded his agreement. “Right, yeah. Luke,” he introduced, moving to offer her his hand before realizing he still held the wad of napkins. “This meeting isn’t really going that well, huh?”

“I’d say it went south when you dumped coffee on her,” the friend commented, not even bothering to hide his grin as he watched the interaction unfold before him. “All downhill from there, mate.”

“I’m Natalia,” she introduced, pointedly ignoring his friend’s comment with an amused glance in his direction. “I’ve had worse first meetings, don’t worry. My freshman year roommate opened a door on me and gave me a concussion. You just stained a dress.”

“Oddly, that makes me feel better about this, thanks,” Luke laughed as he reached out and dropped the napkins into the garbage. “Can I get your number? That way you can go change now and we can make plans later,” he clarified, smiling at her as he offered her his cellphone to put her number in.

She felt Luke’s gaze on her as she put her number into his phone and she offered him a smile as she handed the device back. “I have one request for Friday,” she told him as she grabbed her own phone from the table and grinned at the text he sent her with his name, “no tables near the entrance.” Luke laughed at her request, a sound that she found endearing, and Natalia grinned at him. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“See you on Friday,” he confirmed, grinning as he watched her step around him.

Natalia and Luke maintained eye contact for a moment, each giddy and grinning as they felt the butterflies of something new on the horizon, before Natalia bumped into something solid on her way out and made a face before quickly turning to apologize. She tossed Luke a wave over her shoulder, her own cheeks burning in embarrassment, as she heard his friend mumble, “Wow, she’s perfect for you.”

As she stepped out into the world once more, she grinned at the encounter. It made her lose an hour of writing time - and ruined her favorite dress - but maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. She’d been single for years and hadn’t had any luck with dating apps. She knew that a boyfriend wasn’t the most necessary thing in her life, however, it might be nice to be the girl with a date for once. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Luke was gorgeous.

Whatever the future held for them, she found herself looking forward to it. 

____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: If I try to start another series, someone fight me. Like, actually, genuinely fight me. I’m focusing on Rose Tattoo, These Violent Delights, and this. (And MF if I get inspiration but those updates are more sporadic, never meant to be regular, sorry. :() I want to write a few one shots but they’ll likely be shorter and just fun, you know? Not super plot heavy. I may or may not update the next chapter of this sooner than a week because this is kind of short. But, hey, I’ve got all the time in the world because after I defend next week, I’m done with grad school and that’s mildly terrifying. Anyway.  Here we go.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijustreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle, @p0laroidpictures , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss , @blueviiolence , @loveroflrh , @empathycth , @luckyduckydoo , @tobefalling , @bandsandbooksaremykink , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985 , @wokeupinaustralia , @lucidlrh , @canterburyfiction , @cal-is-not-on-branding , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o , @jaacknaano , @findingliam-o , @old-zeppelin-shirt , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1 , @sammyrenae68 , @flowerthug , @calumsphile , @caitdaniels, @drummerboy794 , @writingfortoomanyfandoms , @x-lover-of-mine-x , @miliefayy , @sunaaii , @canterburyfiction , @sebrox40 , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23 , @bitterbethany , @sunnysidesblog​ , @333-xx​

[brokenjardaantech]

absorbance of the deep (chapter 2: an actual meeting)

written for a mermay prompts challenge. my prompt is ‘monochromatic.’

previous chapter can be found here. 

also on ao3

---

Despite having run away from Simon in the face of danger, Josh somehow became his friend. It wasn’t that Daniel trusted him - Simon is quite certain that he trusts no one with his twin brother to this day - but given the school’s tendency to separate twins, it was impossible for Daniel to keep an eye on his twin brother who had a tendency to disappear for the whole night and then reappearing at weird places such as the pier behind the lighthouse which couldn’t be accessed without passing through the house itself and therefore should’ve been sighted by their mother, or the park which was located at the other side of the village and was impossible for a child to walk alone to without being spotted by one of the many nosy and concerned residents. That was where Josh came in: someone to look after a child who had less awareness of his surroundings than the chemical soup powered by underwater volcanoes. The ethics of handing a child whose brain wasn’t quite normal to another child instead of having an actual adult to take care of him was debatable, but at that time Simon only cared about two things: being in the ocean and learning about the ocean, and since Josh was a convenient source for the latter both due to his abundance of ocean-related books and the fact that he could explain things Simon hadn’t understand initially until he did, that meant Josh was Simon’s best friend and anyone who dared to question it would be subjected to a light hand smack. ‘Because sometimes people just need a bit of a physical reminder,’ Daniel explained as he taught where Simon should hit. ‘Don’t be afraid to use it. They probably can’t distinguish between the two of us anyway.’

But Simon knew that adults were both smarter and more stupid than they thought and he wasn’t going to test which one applied to the category of ‘distinguishing between the Phillips twins,’ so he never did much apart from the abovementioned light smack: just enough to warn others to stop questioning him and his best friend, and not heavy enough that it would be mistaken as aggression. Besides, he was supposed to be the quiet and docile among his classmates, and small, silent Simon who read as much as Josh the resident genius, slapping people? Impossible.

He couldn’t help but felt that the sea approved of him defending himself and Josh, so that was a bonus. And yes, ever since his offering was accepted and he was swept away by the waves for the first time and visited the cave and had his brains burnt up, there had been a bond between his mind and the very waters that surrounded their village, nurtured generations of villagers, took care of Simon so much better than his parents ever did; by the time he was in secondary school, most of his parents' energy were devoted to making sure that Daniel didn’t get into trouble for Simon’s behalf or pretending that Simon’s differences with normal people didn’t exist, and truth to be told he preferred the solitude it offered over anything else. Him doing his homework sitting on the beach with a thick sketchbook some students from the previous grade left in the classroom bookshelf as his table was a common sight.

It didn’t last long, however, because the arrival of a certain girl with hair matching her fiery personality in their village. 

North came from ‘outside,’ which to Simon’s village could mean anything from the neighbouring town to the other side of the world of all he knew, and he was certain that he would’ve known where she came from if he had paid attention to the gossip, but once more he was too busy letting Josh do his homework and flipping over rocks for that one crab that the ocean told him to find for it and then promptly being distracted by the way the sand collapse under its own weight. He couldn’t resist touching it and it crumbled, and he now felt bad because he buried a crab alive. He turned towards the first person he saw and let out a distressed whimper.

‘It’ll dig itself out,’ the voice surprised him because it wasn’t Josh’s, and when he looked up, he saw North standing close to him directly on top of another tunnel entrance. His first instinct was, of course, to scream and flail his arms because that seemed to be the only thing he did people understood, but then again it was North. North, who kicked his bully in his balls when they ganged up on him and tried to snatch his newest book away; North, who together with Josh were the only ones patient enough to explain things to him outside school hour; North, who actually listened to Josh when he told her that Simon didn’t like loud sounds and would like her to speak quieter, unlike the others who almost always got louder because apparently Simon losing control and hurting himself was something funny. Sometimes North would drag him out of it and shove him into a locker so that he could cool down, but sometimes, with her blood boiling almost as hot as her hair, she would become one of them except on Simon’s side, grabbing whatever object she could put her hands on and wreaking havoc in her immediate vicinity, and Simon felt lucky that he had Josh to pull him out of those episodes; he probably wouldn’t be alive if his friend hadn’t dragged him away from the fight because his body’s response to danger was to freeze instead of running away like normal people do. He was afraid of North in a way, he thought as he eyed the bar stock poking out from her backpack, but at the same time he knew that Josh’s pacifism and the ‘abandon everything and run’ plan couldn’t save them from every single situation they would encounter, so they had to rely on North as long as she was willing to be on their side as one of the odd ones out.

That was, of course, only applicable to when the entire world seemed to be against them. Those were the moments Simon hated. There were also moments Simon cherished, moments of tranquillity, of acceptance, of just the three of them hanging out like there were no one else in the world apart from themselves and the sea which Simon felt too connected to to exclude from anything.

As the ‘new one,’ North was the one the teachers didn’t know very well and therefore was easily ignored just like Simon whom they had learnt not to force to speak, and if she were to disappear for a day or two every now and then… virtually no one apart from Simon and Josh noticed. The first time she did it they were worried sick and Simon had to throw himself into the sea and let the current carry him to his cave just to catch a few hours of sleep and wake up being carried back to his family’s house’s pier. The two of them were groggy and tired when Daniel dragged him to school, but seeing North in her usual seat was an oddly comforting sight as Josh handed him a new book he borrowed from the library so that he had something to distract himself with during the classes which he had never been interested in anyway, and the day went by the usual blur of loud noises and hiding in corners and Josh being the unofficial teacher’s assistant and North being unusually pleasant and happy. He suggested going to the beach because he needed to unwind and he missed the feeling of sand gliding on his skin so that was where they went, finding their usual spot and doing their usual thing like Josh doing his homework and North copying him and Simon letting the two of them work while he wandered around the empty beach barefooted so that he could sink his toes into the sand and feel the water caress his feet. As the tide breathed, the connection between his mind and… the other side strengthened and weakened, and the familiarity of the tug and pull calmed him down from the chaos of school and one of his best friends disappearing and then reappearing with no notice whatsoever. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was standing in the cave the ocean created for him a few years back, that he was in a space where he could be truly safe from the assault of the outside world. 

He missed the deep blue he saw and could only see in the deepest part of the sea. 

‘Simon?’

He lost track of how long he stood in the cool water, but when North’s voice rang out pleasant and without its usual fire in his ear, his toes were already numb from the cold. He opened his eyes and saw that she was standing at the edge of the tide where she wouldn’t get wet, and in her hand was something Simon had never seen before. She beckoned him over by holding it up.

‘I got this for you,’ Simon took it while he was still standing in the water so that he didn’t lose the only link he had with the sea. ‘It’s technically a pair of noise-cancelling headphones but… I don’t think you have a phone, do you?’

He hung the headphones on his arm to free up his hand and retrieve the stack of cards from his pocket. It was Josh’s idea, having a set of notecards with the most common words and phrases with him in case he found himself unable to speak (which was most of his life, if he had to be honest) so that he could communicate with other people, and so far the system worked pretty well because it wasn’t like he talked to a lot of people anyway. [i - don’t], he said. The headphones nearly slid off his arm a few times as he fumbled with the chain of cards. [what - is - it]

‘I know the others like to scream and shout even though you don’t like it, so I thought… if you can’t change them, might as well do something to protect yourself. Try it out. I wanna see if it works.’

He put the cards away and slid the headphones over his ear. Suddenly the ringing in his ear intensified, he couldn’t hear the tide crashing into the beach, there was only himself and nothing else, and he yanked off the headphones faster than he had ever moved before and collapsed on his knees. He couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from the ocean he loved so much. It would be like losing a lung. Or his brain itself.

‘Alright, maybe we shouldn’t have tried it here,’ he heard North loud and clear. ‘We’ll try it at school when it’s really noisy. It’ll work better that way.’

But Simon wasn’t listening anymore. All he could focus on was the weight of the headphones in his hand, the cold seawater soaking his trousers and lapping higher and higher much quicker than it should, and then Josh was saying something, North was shouting, and Simon did not understand; the sea was merely welcoming him into its cold embrace, so why were they terrified of it even though they knew the sea was special to him? Why did they seem to be so against it?

They’ll understand. They have to understand.

It was the same voice again, the voice that spoke to him years ago when he offered the octopus to the ocean as… he didn’t even know. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, one that his young mind came up with after witnessing so many people took from the sea without paying it back, and he had a feeling that he was being rewarded for his loyalty and devotion. He closed his eyes again, letting the headphones slip away from his hands and the waves carry him to his sanctuary, as connected as he could be with the other half of his very being without physically turning into a puddle of water washed away and diluted by a body of water so large and turbulent that he would cease to be himself. 

The thought wasn’t as terrifying as it should be.

He let the soft sand warm him and the sound of running water wash away his insecurities and pain away before opening his eyes to the familiar pattern of his cave. Or their cave, he realised as he turned and saw another boy of his age lying so close to him on his side. Skin the colour of bronze, cheekbone and nose dotted with freckles of a darker shade, eyes the green just like the sea on occasions, dark hair interwoven with blue strands braided close to his scalp on the top of his head while the rest were trimmed into a fade cut, Simon didn’t even need to be in his safe space to realise that he was beautiful. It was supposed to be their first meeting, but when the other boy clasped Simon’s hand in his own, the touch did not feel foreign at all, and he watched as the boy raised his hand (so, so pale and skeletal despite being outdoors whenever he could and eating all the food he was allowed to) to his lips and kissed its back. Warmth blooms within his skin from the contact, and he wasn’t sure if it was because his entire body was heating up from his emotions or something else. Perhaps both.

‘We meet at last,’ the boy that felt like the sea breathed into Simon’s knuckles. ‘My name is Markus. Sorry for the abrupt ride. Our connection was lost for the first time since you gave me that octopus and I… panicked. I apologise. I hope it’s fine.’

Simon wanted to tell his companion - Markus, apparently - that it was more than fine, but with one of his hands captive and the other still unable to move from where it was buried in the sand because it was just so comfortable and he wasn’t ready to leave yet, he couldn’t access his stack of cards, and so he nodded and let the corner of his mouth twitch. Josh said that it was as close to a smile everyone could get out of Simon. Right now he was comfortable, he was in his safe space, and it wasn’t like the sea himself was going to tell him how to smile and emote, right?

‘You are my other half, Simon,’ Markus said, and it didn’t even occur to Simon until much later that he shouldn’t know his name. ‘I just want to make sure that you’re safe.’

Simon nodded again because he understood. The sea never lied to him before.

‘Spend the rest of the day with me? I’ll show you the way back before dinnertime.’

You don’t have to, Simon wanted to say. I would rather be with you, he also wanted to say. Forever.

As if sensing his thoughts, Markus shook his head, getting sand into his braids. ‘Not yet, my polaris,’ it sounded strange coming from the voice of a twelve-year-old - at least approximately - the contrast between his breaking voice jarring with how old he sounded, but somehow it made sense on Markus who, to Simon, was the embodiment of the boundless ocean. His free hand brushed Simon’s neck as he brought Simon’s to his own. ‘Feel this?’ He let go of Simon so that Simon could explore Markus’ neck on his own, and indeed he felt ridges that did not belong to a human’s neck under the pads of his fingers. ‘They’re my gills. I can easily give you your own so that you can come here but… I saw how the others are treating you already, and I didn’t.’

I don’t care, Simon wanted to say, but as the silence between them grew and his head became clearer from being safe and warm, he realised that whatever he was experiencing then wasn’t normal. He couldn’t always rely on North and Josh and Daniel for protection because the past two days were exactly demonstrations of that, that they wouldn’t be at his side forever, that sometimes, even though they meant well, they still didn’t understand him as good as the sea did and could hurt him unintentionally. Having strange scars on his neck would only worsen whatever he was going through.

Okay. I’ll wait for you.

‘I’m sorry, Simon.’

Don’t be.

Markus scooted closer. The sand cooled down to a pleasant temperature. Still holding Simon’s hand, Markus supported himself on his arm and kissed his temple, and a small part of Simon wished that he had kissed him on his lips instead. So Markus did. Just a small one that was no more than a short press of skin, but even as Markus pulled back, he didn’t go far, their foreheads touching as they drifted between the land of the living and slumber as one, their fingers intertwined on soft sand. It was peaceful in a way Simon didn’t think he had been before.

He only let himself feel a slight tinge of disappointment when he woke up on the pier later that day because he knew that the sea would be back for him.

[wiltedwisterias]

Useful Things To Know When Writing Pianist Characters/Characters that play the piano

From someone who’s been playing the piano for more than 10 years. 

Things that happen during practice that you might not have known

Weird sheet music cuts are among the worst things to ever exist, and it occurs more often than you’d think. Page changes occur during the middle of a phrase or a section a lot of the time and this is the most annoying thing ever if you don’t have the entire piece memorized when practicing because it completely disrupts your flow, it cuts off the emotion and the transition from phrase to phrase won’t be smooth because you’re constantly interrupted at the same spot.

Playing the piano can be a very sweaty experience (not very attractive yeah), especially when you’re practicing, because you’re putting in a lot of concentration and there’s a lot of physical exertion for a long period of time (playing sonatas and concertos require stamina I am not kidding). But you can’t turn up the fan speed because that will in turn, create the problem of sheet music flying off the music rack in the middle of your practice! I live in a tropical country where it’s hot as hell all the time and let me tell you that sweating buckets when practicing is the norm.

Clicking fingernails. Pianists never have long nails, because the sound of nails clicking on the piano keys absolutely ruins the music. If a pianist hears their nails going clickity-clack when playing, it’s a bright neon sign to go cut their nails.

Getting distracted. Duh. I often go to YouTube in the middle of practice because I’m not sure how a section is supposed to sound like, so I have to listen to and learn from professionals who know what they’re doing (unlike me). However, sometimes I get whisked away by the video recommendations and 30 minutes later I’m watching child prodigies playing Paganini Caprices instead of practicing. D:

Technical flaws to piano playing (can be used to criticize others or when your character is practicing)

Uneven chords. When two or more notes have to be played together by one hand, it’s best to press all the notes at the same time so a clear, sharp sound is produced. Some compositions have consecutive and fast chords, which can lead to uneven chords with insufficient practice or if the pianist is less skillful.

Inaccurate jumps. Jumps are a pain in the arse. Imagine that you’re playing the piano and really feeling it, and suddenly you slam on the completely wrong notes. Most of the time, it’s not a mistake that’s easy to cover up, more so if they’re chords.

Faked running notes. Not exactly “faked” per se, but it’s very easy to slip and miss a handful of notes during runs and it’s something that could pull someone out of your performance, especially someone with a trained ear or who’s familiar with the piece. Normally it’s not a big mistake, but it does spoil the quality of the music.

Speeding up. I think this is something that all musicians tend to do when they’re either excited or nervous, due to the adrenaline. Personally I feel like this sometimes does allow the musician to feel the music and enter the “zone” more easily but sometimes it causes them to slip in the already-fast passages as well, since they’re going faster than they are used to. 

Unclear dynamics and phrasing. Dynamics and phrasing are gigantic parts of classical music in general and they can define an entire performance. A performance with unclear dynamics and phrasing is like a movie with a bland and ill-thought-out plot. You’d want listeners to be able to distinguish and feel the ups and downs of the music, not feel bored out by it.

Too much pedaling. If you’re familiar with piano you should know that pianos have a sustaining pedal that is used to sustain notes that would otherwise be out of reach and produce a richer, fuller sound. However, the pedal should be changed (lifted and pressed again) every few beats, or else the piece will sound noisy. This can become a problem because sometimes, pianists themselves don’t notice that the sound gets blurry, as the vibrations spread out away from them, and listeners will have to point it out to them.

Other things to note:

Statistics prove that females generally have shorter fingers than males, which can be a disadvantage to playing piano, mainly because of the inability to reach wide chords in compositions, though this can be solved by playing them in arpeggios (spreading the notes out to play instead of playing them all at once). Another thing is that having longer fingers can minimize wrist movements which makes playing easier.

Every single piano has a different touch when playing, due to the difference between the weight of the keys. In addition, keyboards, clavinovas, upright pianos, baby grand pianos and grand pianos all have different technologies in producing the sound. Keyboards aren’t favorable most of the time as they are relatively shorter (have less keys) and the keys are very shallow in comparison with an actual piano, which limits the music dynamics (loudness and softness) that can be produced. The good thing about keyboards and clavinovas though is that nowadays, most of them have audio jacks, so pianists can play with earphones/headphones plugged in, which makes it much more convenient for practicing as the sound won’t impact other people living in the same building/vicinity.

Regarding practice time: in all honesty this probably differs from pianist to pianist. Nevertheless, professional pianists generally practice 4-5 hours a day. For people that play the piano as a hobby or on the side, practice duration is usually much shorter. As an example, I used to try and squeeze in 2 hour practices on Saturdays and Sundays for my Grade 8 exam as my weekdays were packed full with school and co-curricular activities, this however, was the best-case scenario. If I had other activities on weekends, piano would be deprioritized and practice duration would be made up for during the next week. It was the same for all my classmates who played the piano outside of school as well, but keep in mind that this kind of practice schedule isn’t ideal and it’s best to practice every day even if it’s just 15 minutes per day. When I started preparing for my diploma exam, I tried my best to practice at least an hour a day because I was scared of failing it hahaha. Once again, practice duration and schedule is highly specific for every individual based on where piano is placed on their priority list.

I hope this was helpful! I’m also planning to do more posts like this so feel free to ask me if you have any questions :D 

[bthenoise]

Hometown Heroes: These Are Destroy Boys’ Top 10 Favorite Bay Area Bands

Photo by: Ash Gellman

Whether you’re looking to discover your next favorite punk rock group or rekindle your connection with Bay Area artists such as The Cramps, Dead Kennedys or Primus, you’ve come to the right place. 

Today, to help learn more about emerging Hopeless Records act Destroy Boys, we’ve asked the talented trio to let us in on their musical mindset and show off some of their favorite hometown heroes from the Northern California community. 

To check out which ten artists vocalist Alexia Roditis, guitarist Violet Mayugba,  and drummer Narsai Malik picked as their favorites from San Francisco to Sacramento and everything in between, be sure to look below. Afterward, for more from the punk rock powerhouse Destroy Boys, head here.   

ALEXIS RODITIS 

Burd 

Burd is this awesome duo from SF. I don’t remember the first time I saw them, but I went to every single one of their shows that I could get to. The guitar rips and the drums are so creative. Their two instruments combined with the vocals put me into a trance state where all I wanna do is spaz out and yell along. I feel very inspired by Burd’s hard, melodic, and clever guitar riffs. So sick. 

Rituals of Mine

Rituals of Mine is another one of my favorite Sacramento bands (Sacramento is not the bay, but Sac is where my roots lie. Don't @ me). Terra puts on an incredible performance, taking the crowd on a journey with them through the songs. Their music is very intricate and emotional, something I try to emulate in my own way in rock music. 

The Cramps

Gosh, I love The Cramps!! Another Sacramento band. They were one of the first local rock bands I got into when I first started going to shows. I couldn’t get enough of the sexual energy that comes through their songs, I hadn’t heard anything like it! I love they they’re proud freaks. Their music makes me want to dance and contort. 

VIOLET MAYUGBA 

Tørsö

Torso (stylized as Tørsö) is an absolutely ripping hardcore band based out of Oakland, CA. I heard them for the first time when I was 17 and still living in Sac. They completely changed my vision of hardcore, and influenced me to add a bit more power to some of the riffs I was writing.

Dead Kennedys 

Everyone knows this one. DK's Give Me Convenience Or Give Me Death was the first record I had ever bought for myself at 13 (2 years before we started the band). I couldn't stop listening. The urgency and the anger of this band completely painted a picture to me of the kind of music I wanted to make.

RAD 

RAD were a thrash hardcore band from Sacramento that Alexia and I used to go see all the time. Completely consuming hardcore that would bust through 15 songs in close to 15 minutes. They were the first female fronted hardcore band I had ever seen, and I NEVER went back. 

Deftones

My favorite Sacramento band of all time. Around The Fur helped me create a higher expectation of my guitar parts, and influenced me to add darkness and character to our songs. Also, just the sickest band ever. 

NARSAI MALIK 

Juicebumps 

The best current band in San Francisco, hands down. Their debut album ‘Hello Pinky’, which came out in July of 2020 is a top to bottom work of freakish genius. Recorded on tape, this album is all over the place in the best way possible. From tracks that consist only of samples, to full on timeless bangers, to music made by and for computers, there’s something for everybody. I’m sure in another dimension, Juicebumps formed because Devo and Nirvana met in a club in Berlin and had a naughty one night stand, and they were the spectacular creation that popped out nine months later. Their range in style is truly inspiring because I always strive to be stylistically diverse, and I never want our band to be stuck to one sound. Listening to Juicebumps and seeing them live always leaves me thinking, grooving and laughing my ass off which is the perfect trifecta of emotions when I’m listening to music. 

Primus 

My older brother’s hand-me-down iPod Nano had many nuggets of wonder in it, many of them heavily contributing to the music that now embodies who I am as a person. One band on the iPod was Primus and the only song saved under their name was “Harold of the Rocks”. Because I had enjoyed the rest of what was in my brother’s music library, I remember putting it on and thinking nothing of it, but I couldn’t make it past the verse because it was way too advanced and non-traditional rock for my lower school brain. Many years later when I had gotten into Primus’ other hits like “Jerry Was a Race Car Driver” and “John the Fisherman”, I revisited the fabled song and had a revelation that Primus was one of the most important bands to ever come out of San Francisco. At this point in my life, as opposed to when I first found out about them, I had started playing drums. Something I take away from listening to Primus even to this day, is how their drummer Tim Alexander fits in notes where you would have never imagined playing them in a million years. He opened my eyes to the fact that there’s more than just on-beats and off-beats, and that there’s way more room to throw in flurries of hi-hats or whatever, tastefully of course. 

Sly and the Family Stone 

I honestly didn’t know that Sly and the Family Stone were from San Francisco, until I did a quick search for bands from here, but I’ve always loved them! My mom grew up in Chicago in the 70’s, so funk and soul have always been a part of her. It was played in our house and on road trips but I never fully appreciated it until much later. What I like about Sly is that he has the charisma of James Brown, but a  down-to-earth, not so untouchable feel to his music. Before I listened to Sly, all l knew about funk was the flashy, ‘show-biz’ side of it, but Sly and his band made me feel like I could play this kind of music too. I love funk music because it feels so open and freeing, and it’s just really fun to play on drums. It has a sense of candidness and inclusivity that draws you in, even when you’re just playing along to songs in your headphones. It’s the only type of music where I can completely shut my brain off and just play. I’ve always tried to apply that unrestricted feeling to my drum parts, and Sly’s songs are the epitome of that for me.

[subasekabang]

One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed

Title: One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed Rating: T/PG-13 for swearing and bloodless violence Word Count: 13,700 Pairings/Characters: No ships/Genfic. Neku, Joshua, Hanekoma as main characters. Appearances by most everyone else from TWEWY including Beat, Rhyme, Shiki, the reapers Warnings: brief mentions of past trauma/death (some of the Reapers discuss why they died), angelic/eldritch body horror (no blood or gore), imprisonment Summary: Neku’s in college now, and other than passing through Shibuya’s subway station to get to other parts of the city, he doesn’t really stop by much anymore. But when he gets a serious case of artist’s block before a gallery show, he decided to go back to his old stomping grounds to get inspired. Partner: @soundofez​ and @songsummoner​ Author’s Note: This was a fun, super weird piece. I also did some art for it on top of my partner’s work; all the art from me and my partners will appear in the correct parts of the fic on my AO3 link, which will go up Oct. 2. I’ll link in reply to this post with it when that’s up so you can see some really weird stuff (my own art is included below, though!!). Special thanks to Fez for designing college-age Neku’s clothes.

Also, Neku fights (and apologizes to) a building.

Enjoy!

XXX

Neku sighed. Squinting, he rolled up the blinds on his studio apartment a little, taking in the view. One window, the Skytree. The other, he could glimpse the top part of Sensouji’s pagoda. Asakusa was no Shibuya, but it had lots of car free pathways, quirky art stalls, and lots of tourists to draw. And it was a heck of a lot cheaper than living in Ueno.

He could walk to campus in about half an hour on a good day or take the subway just one stop to Tokyo University of the Arts on a bad one. It was convenient and, while a touristy area, surprisingly quiet.

Too quiet today, though. Neku fired up his tablet, pinging his friends. They always called everyone in a big group chat, though there was no obligation to answer.

“Sup, Phones?” Beat grinned into the camera, a giggle heard in the background.

“Beat, are you ever going to actually use his name?”

“I am though!” Best objected. “Neku’s tag is a pair of headphones. It’s practically his name at this point.”

“You’re not going to win on a technicality,” Rhyme chirped, turning the camera so she was in frame. “We’re between takes, anyway. What’s up, Neku?”

“Shit, did I interrupt a shoot?” Neku hovered over the hang-up button.

“I just said we were on break!” Rhyme reiterated, flailing her hands in front of her. “But Beat is shooting with your deck!”

His friend, who had only grown more muscular with the past five years, hefted up his skateboard, showing off the art of a flying squirrel on the undercarriage. “It’s still the sickest one I’ve got. You’d better have another one in the wings when it gets decommissaried, yo!”

“Decommissioned.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever, Beat,” another voice popped in, the newcomer’s eyebrow quirked in a hint of static as the visual flickered on.

“Sup, Shiki!” Beat said, waving wildly.

“Meet me for drinks when you’re done shooting? I can hop on the subway. It’s only a stop.”

“How’d you know where we are?”

“Beat, you always skate in Ikebukuro,” Shiki said matter-of-factly. “And I’m at school, so I’m only a stop away from you.”

“Oh. Right. Sometimes I wish we kept our mind reading powers,” Beat said with a pout.

“Noooooo thank you,” Shiki said with a grin. “Anyway, what’s all this about? I’ve got ten minutes ‘til my Fashion Sales class.”

Neku scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at the camera. “I… er. Kinda needed some advice. I’ve got a gallery class where my one assignment is supposed to take the whole semester and I’m a bit stuck. I need to hand my draft proposition in by the end of next week.”

“What’s the topic?” Rhyme asked.

“That’s the thing. The art—even the medium—is up to me. Every fine art track has to take this thing. So, it doesn’t need to be painting, but I have to secure a space and create a work to match it. Like, get permission to paint a building, or something like that. Private or public property, just no vandalism. Street paste or yarn bombing is OK in public spaces. Basically, as long as it’s non-destructive; otherwise we need permission from the owner.”

“So, you need to scout out a place and make something that compliments it?” Rhyme asked.

“Yeah. And we can work together if we want. I don’t know my classmates well enough to know if our styles clash though.”

“Sounds tough.”

“That’s why it’s my whole assignment.”

Beat frowned. “I’ve got a good sponsorship going with Wild Boar. Could see if you could tag one of their shops.”

“Maybe,” Neku said. “But I want to step out of my comfort zone a little if I can. It’s a good backup.”

Shiki bit her lip. “Maybe you just need a little inspiration.”

“Little is an understatement.”

“What about that tag mural in Shibuya? Would that be fair game?”

The chat went silent. That wall in question was public property. It was absolutely not game—not for this assignment at least.

“Why?” Neku almost whispered, hoarse. “Why’d you even bring it up?”

“Because it’s been five years, Neku, and you haven’t gone back. CAT did what you’ve been assigned; he was a street artist who also did all these kinds of hired art too.”

“Hanekoma’s gone,” Neku reminded her. “I stopped trying. The shop was destroyed. If he ever came back, he’s not in Shibuya.”

“Then… ignore my bad idea,” Shiki said, not meeting eyes with the camera. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“No! No,” Neku reassured her, forcefully, then quiet, as if he were a deflating balloon. “Sorry if I snapped.”

“You didn’t snap,” Rhyme offered, before changing the subject. “I’ll think on it though; there’s gotta be some struggling coffee shop that could use some art, or something. Anyway… we need to get back to work, now.”

“And I have class. Neku, let’s chat tonight, after dinner? I can swing by your place. We can go get conveyor belt sushi over by Nakamise.”

“That… sounds pretty good, actually. Yeah. Let’s.”

“Later, alligator!” Rhyme said, chipper.

“Yeah! Later!” Shiki added.

“Let’s bounce!” Beat snuck in as Rhyme ended the call.

Neku was left alone to his thoughts.

Shibuya.

He and his friends romped through the city almost every weekend after they were all brought back—at least at first. Eventually exams took over for Shiki and Neku, both hell-bent on getting in Bunka Fashion College and Tokyo Arts respectively. Beat slowly got more and more skate sponsorships with Rhyme as his videographer, making her new dream to shoot the world’s best skater: her brother.

Neku closed his eyes, imagining the gleaming, ad-drenched skyscrapers, a far cry from the view from his apartment window.

Maybe.

Maybe it was time to finally go back; maybe Shiki wasn’t wrong. It was his old stomping grounds, his old home. And it was only a few hundred yens’ ride away.

Neku pinched his forearm once to ground himself, grabbed his wallet and a scarf (courtesy of Shiki’s weaving class, in a sturdy textured purple crepe) and headed out the door.

Xxx

Neku’s palm touched plaster and concrete. Slowly, he slid his hand along the wall, breathing out an exhale. Even in his high school years, when his friends would regularly bum around Shibuya after school and on weekends, he avoided the mural. It wasn’t that he stopped liking it; just… He felt he didn’t need it anymore. He had plenty of CAT’s art to keep him company, from the pins in his pocket to the billboards throughout the city.

Maybe he was young and naïve back then, but looking at the faded piece, partially obscured by other, less impressive tags… well, it didn’t seem very impressive anymore.

“‘Course it isn’t, you brain-dead binomial,” a familiar voice sneered from behind him. Neku whipped around to see Sho Minamimoto, cat whiskers and all, grinning with fanged teeth.

Sho put up his hands as a peace offering, sensing Neku’s hackles rising. “I’m not attacking the living; don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’d really rather not get divided by zero. Again.”

Neku relaxed his shoulders a little but said nothing.

“You’re a leaky faucet, you single-digit integer,” Sho explained, as he pointed to a vending machine, sending a pair of CC Lemon bottles flying out of it and at the two of them. He leaned against the mural, back to it, sliding down to sit and sighing with his drink. “I miss CAT, too, you know. Been the square-root of 25 years since anyone’s seen a new piece of his. Some of the reapers actually thought it might’ve been you.”

Neku laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Me?” he asked, plopping down next to his former enemy, accepting the citrus-flavored peace offering. “I was fifteen. And CAT had been active way before I was born.”

“Thought it was a title, you dumb fractal. Like Pope or Emperor.”

“Expert street artists are called Kings and Queens, you know.”

“And dead ones are Angels,” Sho added with a sage nod. “Trying to one-up a Reaper on art is like trying to find the cube root of i.”

Neku stared down at his soft drink, thinking of Hanekoma. The title suited him in more ways than one, thanks to a little packet he’d found in Mr. H’s shop back when he and Beat snuck in to see if there was anything they could save. Since Hanekoma was CAT, there had been a pretty strong likelihood some of his art was still in the ruined café, but sadly there wasn’t any evidence in there at all. Neku saw faded marks where canvases and an easel had once been stacked in a curious empty back room; someone had beaten them to clearing it out.

Sho pulled Neku out of his thoughts eventually, after one intrepid skater ate pavement attempting to grind the Cyco Records railing.

“What’s eating you, pain-in-my-vector? Well, former.”

“You don’t hold a grudge?” Neku asked curiously.

“It’s a long afterlife. Grudges are useless.”

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the skaters try their new decks outside the Wild Boar at the midpoint of the T section.

“You gonna ask me why I’m here?”

“I know why you’re here,” Sho replied testily, tapping his temple. “Was waiting to see if you’d give me the proof out of your mouth.”

“Right. Mind reading.”

“I can’t see every piece of the equation; that’s not how it works and you know it. But I can solve for x and fill in the blanks.”

Neku sighed. “What can you see?”

“That you’re stuck on a hard problem and you’ve been staring at your homework too long.”

“And by problem you mean—”

“I can’t tell—just some big project is eating you up. At least it’s not Higashizawa. That hectopascal can eat a man whole. I’ve seen it.” Minamimoto slung back his drink. “So, what’s eating you?”

“I mean, other than you being alive again?” Neku asked, eyebrow raised.

“Still dead as I was last you saw me.”

“Last I saw you, you were crushed under a vending machine.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse days.” Minamimoto shrugged. “That infinite asshole of a Composer fixed me back up and sent me right back to work. Now stop stalling, you obtuse angle. Out with it.”

“Artist’s block,” Neku admitted sheepishly. “I’ve got a big project coming up and I just can’t think of the right thing to do.”

Sho laughed, his head flung back and whole body shaking with the action. “Artist’s block, you dithering digit. You don’t think we Reapers never deal with that shit? At least for you, it’s not fatal.”

“F-fatal?” Neku asked, almost dropping his bottle.

“We run on Imagination,” Sho said, chucking his emptied-out drink with force, sending it flying halfway down the alley into a recycling bin attached to a vending machine. “No Imagination, no power. No power long enough and poof, divide by zero. Crunch. Drop a vending machine on me? I’ll walk it off. Go too long without making something…”

Sho went uncharacteristically quiet, running his fingers through a hole in his jeans.

“So, what do you do when you’re stuck?” Neku finally asked.

“I raid the trash. Something always finds its way to me.” Sho pulled a loose thread and threw it to the wind. “I don’t just mean the garbage; I mean the rest of us. Talkin’ it out’s helped. I used to think I didn’t need anybody else. But then I got subtracted out so many times by you ‘n Prisspants, well. Don’t want to admit it but dividing up the work’s helped solve the harder equations.”

Neku smiled, offering a hand. “I can leave you my number if you ever want to talk shop.”

Sho blinked twice, confused. “You’d… help me? I was an irrational digit.”

“So? I was an asshole teenager. I pass through often enough. It’s not much trouble, especially if you’re feeding me,” Neku admitted, shaking his now empty bottle. “You try keeping on weight on a college art student’s budget.”

“Yeah, all right,” Sho said, standing up, swiping Neku’s empty bottle to shove in one of his myriad pockets. “A balanced equation—I dig it. I’m using this in my next piece,” he added, tapping the bottle with a hollow thud. “Thanks… Neku.”

Before Neku had a chance to even realize it was the first time Sho called him by name, the Reaper had vanished back to the Underground, out of Neku’s reach.

Xxx

Neku stood at the mural a few minutes longer, rolling the plastic bottle cap in his fingers. If Sho was alive, well, less dead, then Joshua was still haunting Shibuya from somewhere—Hanekoma, too.

So why was the mural so worn out? Had Mr. H run out of new inspiration himself? Neku sighed, no more ready to tackle the assignment as he hoofed it back to the station, tossing the bottle-cap into the recycling as he passed.

The CC Lemon Sho had expertly pitched was mysteriously absent from the top of the pile.

“If Sho went dumpster diving to make recycled friendship bracelets, I think I’ll actually bust a rib laughing,” Neku muttered to himself.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Neku whipped his head around to see a Reaper in a basic hoodie. A faceless grunt, one of at least tens, if not hundreds, patrolling the city. No visible wings, so at least Neku could remind himself he hadn’t gone sliding into the UG. Just another Reaper coming up to the RG for air. Or to pester him.

Or both.

“Do I know you?” Neku asked, eyeing the teenage-looking apparition in oversized clothing.

The boy huffed. “The Reaper Review remembers you.”

Neku laughed and relaxed a little. “At least you’re not the Reaper who made me show up in all Mus Rattus to break their barrier. Or the other one who made me get them a chili dog.”

“When you’re a minor officer, you’re allowed to send Players on wild goose chases,” the Reaper said with a shrug. “I’m just happy I was allowed to block mine with trivia. I hate fighting.”

“You and me both,” Neku grumbled.

The reaper tipped his hood back slightly, enough to show Neku his ethereal looking eyes. “I overheard you had artist’s block. Er, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. It’s the worst.”

“Great. Is my mind safe from any of you?” Neku groaned, though it wasn’t in anger. He couldn’t complain. Hearing the livings’ thoughts just happened when you were dead.

“Actually, I was guarding the mural and overheard your chat with the Lieutenant.”

“Oof. Minamimoto got a demotion?”

“He seems happier in the field, anyway,” the Reaper replied with a shrug. “More time for his sculptures and harassing players.”

Neku looked at the Reaper curiously. “Sho mentioned you all do art. Have to keep your Imagination up.”

“That’s… not entirely true. I mean yeah, gotta keep the creative juices going or we stop existing. But it doesn’t have to be through art. Cooking, dance, whatever goes. When I’m stuck, I usually learn from another Reaper. Gives me some perspective.”

Neku’s smile widened. “You’re right, you know. I need to broaden my horizons. What do you do?”

“Me? Uh… I design puzzles. The player traps and stuff.”

“Ugh,” Neku groaned.

“You paint, right? I remember seeing some of your tags under the Miyashita Park underpass a few years ago. You’re pretty good. Maybe… try heading over near Shibu-Q? The Reapers that dance usually practice that way—sidewalk is wide enough. Loosen up with some life drawing or something.”

Neku smiled. “I have to do an installation project, but you know what? That’s not a terrible idea. Thanks.” He looked to the corner where Shibu-Q stood and then back at his nameless friend, but the Reaper was already gone.

Xxx

Neku didn’t know what he was expecting to find outside Shibu-Q, but a pair of Harrier Reapers doing acrobatic dancing was not it. Neku smirked as he watched the reaper woman with electric purple lipstick—Uzuki, if he remembered correctly—pirouetting before using her friend as a vaulting block to spin up and over his back.

The two continued their routine, the man—Kariya, Neku remembered after a few embarrassed moments of mental fumbling—seeming lazy and unmoving but carefully and precisely supporting his partner’s flashy moves. The two continued for another ten minutes or so, then each held out a hat for change.

Neku patted himself down for his wallet before dumping three 500-yen coins in Uzuki’s hat as it passed around. She glared at him a moment, then pushed the coins back in his face.

“Not taking money from you,” she snipped. “I already owe you enough. Shoo.”

Kariya looked over his shoulder at Neku, momentarily confused. After all, the two of them hadn’t aged a day while Neku was now a lanky, slightly scruffy young adult. Realization crossed the Reaper’s features slowly, eventually tugging his mouth into a half grin. Kariya offered Neku a backwards half-salute and went back to waving his hat around for change.

Eventually the crowd dispersed. Kariya loped over to Neku and Uzuki, clapping Neku on the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You’re as tall as I am now. Good on you. How’s life treating you?”

Neku couldn’t help but laugh at the double meaning behind the words. “Busy. College.”

“You know, I wondered when I would stop seeing you run around the RG so much over here.”

“Never mind me,” Neku said, sloughing off Kariya’s friendly gesture and looking at the two of them. “How are you holding up?”

“How do you think?” Uzuki spat. “There weren’t many powerful Reapers left after that mess—at least for a while. So, some ass went and got themselves promoted to Conductor.”

Kariya looked down at his feet, blush going all the way across his face. “It’s not like I asked for it; I wasn’t given a choice. At least I negotiated that I could do things my way. Uzuki’s my GM.”

Neku frowned. “So… then you know the Composer.”

Kariya’s eyes went uncharacteristically fierce. “That’s on a need to know basis and—”

“Read my mind then,” Neku countered. “There’s something I do need to know.”

Neku closed his eyes and thought of Joshua. What he really wanted was to talk to Mr. Hanekoma, but the only way he was going to be able to do that would be going to Joshua first.

Kariya whistled low. “Okay. Fine. Kid, come here a sec.”

“Kariya, come on. Why are you even telling this kid anything? He’s alive. And—”

“He knows about Josh, Uzuki, I’m not giving him anything new. Just… maybe pointing him in the right direction.”

Uzuki pushed a loose strand of burgundy hair from her eyes. “Fiiiiine, whatever. You’re the boss.”

“You’ve seen him?” Neku asked quietly.

“’Course I have. He’s my boss,” Kariya said with a sigh. “Though he only comes to speak if he feels like it. I’ve caught him sulking over past the Miyashita Park underpass though. No clue why. Out there is just a bunch of sporting goods stores and Josh and physical activity mix like oil and vinegar. Hope that helps. What do you need him for, anyway? You’re alive.”

“It’s not him I’m even looking for,” Neku admitted. “I want him to tell me what happened to an old friend.”

Kariya relaxed a bit. “If said old friend has anything to do with the UG, might as well ask me.”

“I’m looking for CAT.”

Kariya frowned, scratching the back of his head in contemplation. “CAT was a Reaper? He— or she, I guess— stopped doing anything new after I became Conductor. Yeah. You’d have to speak to Josh. That’s before my time and below my pay grade.”

“Thanks anyway, Kariya,” Neku said, genuinely appreciative. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Anytime. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Neku closed his eyes a moment, sighing quietly. “Hope so too,” he muttered, opening them to an empty sidewalk.

Xxx

Neku headed eastbound towards Cat Street, passing Stride on the left. Gone were the Tin Pin banners, long since replaced with whatever new plastic toy battling fad that had taken hold of the local kids.

“You know, I heard a commotion from some of the older guard that a carrot was running around Udagawa.”

Neku had whiplash. Poised behind him with a cigarette loosely held in between his middle and ring finger was a face Neku couldn’t believe he was seeing.

“Seven?” Neku asked incredulously. He reached out his hand for the bleach-blonde, swaggering musician’s to find it cold as ice. Neku frowned. “Smoking kills, you know.”

777 played with the cigarette between his fingers. “How d’you think I died?” He gave a cocky grin. “Actually, I fell off a roof rigging an abandoned warehouse party. This is why you do safety checks. Tenho still gives me grief about it.”

Neku smiled weakly. “That bites.”

“The dust? Oof. Yeah. But hey, all three of us went down at once. The party scattered and when we showed up to play a new set a few weeks later nobody realized we weren’t exactly alive. They probably thought we broke a bone or two at worst and hid to lick our wounds—not cracked our skulls on the sidewalk.” Neku winced. “Er, sorry, Orange. Didn’t mean to dredge up anything bad on your end. Just odd, seeing you back.”

“Looking for someone,” Neku admitted. “The owner of the café that used to be on Cat Street.”

“Hanekoma? Stopped in there for coffee sometimes. Bit odd. His shop didn’t have the Player decal, yet he definitely served stiffs. Reapers as customers is one thing—we can go to the RG—but… hell. What do I know?”

Neku flocked his eyes up and down the street. Not that it mattered; Reapers could be in the UG right next to him and he wouldn’t know. “Yeah, he could see the dead.”

“ESPer or something?” Seven asked, blowing out a smoke ring that looked like a bat. Now he was just showing off.

“Something like that.”

“Well, fat lot that did him. Shop’s been MIA ever since I got recommissioned—maybe earlier. All I remember is, I had a double shot espresso there the night before that gig you helped me with, got blown up like two weeks later, and when I’m back to my good old dead self, the shop looks like it got exploded too. What the hell went on in this city that week?”

“War,” Neku said grimly.

“And you won, didn’t you?” Seven elbowed him in the shoulder. “You’d be one of my types now if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Neku said, throat dry. “Thanks for the chat.”

“You come to our next gig, you hear? You’ve gotta be old enough to drink now. VIP for you ‘n the cute chick you were with. Or, uh, anyone else. Don’t know if asking her would be awkward. She made it out, didn’t she? Please say yes.”

Neku smiled. “She did, and we’re still friends. I’ll ask. She won’t look like how you’re expecting though.”

“Neither do you, not-so-short stack. Now get outta here. I’m gonna finish my drag and get back to setup before Beej screams me out. Later.” Seven snapped his fingers and the cigarette exploded in a puff of blue fiery smoke. “Open invite, Orange, just tell the bouncer ‘golden bat’ at the door.”

Xxx

Neku inhaled. He knew past here was Cadoi, then Miyashita.

Then Cat Street.

Neku passed a small spot under the park underpass where Beat and Rhyme’s flowers had once been placed, leaving behind a tiny finger skateboard. Beat would probably punch him; Rhyme would find it hilarious. He did it to honor his once dead friend. Some kid would probably see it, and abscond with it, and play with it till it broke. Beat’s skateboard, in the hands of some kid passing by—it was fitting.

Neku let his memory walk him the rest of the way to WildKat. It stood as it had since the incident: a broken front window, a door barely hanging on its hinges. How it remained like this almost half a decade without developer intervention was shocking, honestly. Or maybe not, if divine intervention was involved.

Neku inhaled and took a step forward.

Again.

Again.

He carefully swung the door, afraid the whole thing would come off the frame in his hands. It squeaked something awful but hung by a thread.

The inside was worse. Neku should have brought one of his paint masks with him. The place was a fire trap of chipped plaster, dust, and mold. An old safe in the back corner was open on its hinges. The only things that looked clean were the sink, two sealed jars of whole coffee beans, and a single drip carafe, the rest of the row shattered beyond recognition.

Neku’s sketchbook and a mechanical pencil set still sat atop the dust-crusted counter. He’d left them there when he and Beat had returned— the only time Neku stepped foot in the shop when he was alive—to check on the shop.

To check on its owner.

Leaving the sketchbook behind seemed fitting. It was half full of random crap, and half empty, nothing but open promises in the end.

Maybe Neku didn’t need Hanekoma, or CAT, or the old shop. Carefully, he made his way around a splintered bar stool, sidestepped a broken glass pitcher, and hauled himself up on the only stool left in sittable condition.

Reverently, he opened the book. He almost laughed at his fifteen-year-old self’s sketches. The first three pages were ideas for tags around the city. He actually cringed at one.

Then a page of Shiki—a quick sketch, half likely from stolen glances and half from memory, because it was her as herself on the left, and as Eri on the right.

Ideas for Beat’s skateboards.

Architecture sketches

An entire six pages of circles and cubes, shaded with hatching or a blending stump.

Neku turned to the next page.

In handwriting that wasn’t his, scrawled in large block print…

TURN AROUND, DEAR.

Xxx

Neku screamed. It wasn’t one of fear, but frustration. “You slimy, little—” he shrieked, as he spun around in the stool expecting to see a smarmy, fifteen-year-old-looking blonde, if the agelessness of the other UG residents was anything to go by.

Instead, a softly frowning man in his mid-thirties stood behind him.

With blonde fly-away hair.

And strange purple eyes.

And a blue-purple button down with white accents and charcoal slacks.

Neku bit his lower lip, holding back a fury he hadn’t had in years.

“You.”

“I come in peace,” Joshua offered, hands up defensively, glowing slightly. “I wrote that years ago. Now I kind of regret it.” Neku relaxed a little. Joshua would be dramatic enough to do that and scare him when he entered the shop, wouldn’t he?

“Only kind of, though,” Joshua added, pulling a broken chair from the rubble, fixing it with a shake and sitting down beside Neku. “It’s still Imprinted. I’m not in the RG. The note left a bit of me in it. You see it, you see me, too.”

“You been tailing me all day, too?”

“I felt you in the city, but no. Only when I got a text about it.”

Kariya. Of course.

“Your conductor rat me out?”

“He did say you were looking for me. So, might have imprinted on you a bit to push you here.”

“You could have come and—”

“—said hello? No, actually, I can’t. I’m on probation. Can’t enter the RG for a decade. Not the biggest deal for me, mind, but… humans don’t live near as long as things like I do. I needed you to come to me. Glad that thing still works.” He tapped the notebook, his hand clipping through a page or two like he wasn’t all there.

Neku exhaled. “I trust you, you know. Still don’t forgive you, but I do trust you.”

“I know. I appreciate you said it aloud, but I know.”

“You look better when your clothes actually fit.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve gotten better at keeping up with me,” Joshua said with a bit of a grin.

“You’ve slowed down in your age, you old fart.”

“Old? Fart?” Joshua pouted, and where there had been a well-put-together adult sat a petulant teenager in the same attire, now oversized to the point of baggy. He looked as the Reapers did—unaged.

“At least now you fit in with the rest of your underlings,” Neku huffed.

Joshua frowned. “I wish I did, honestly.” Quietly, he stared off, past Neku to the empty kitchen.

“Miss him too?”

“More than you,” Joshua shot back.

“Didn’t have many friends?”

“Comes with the job.”

Neku rolled a pencil between his fingers. He’d caught the proverbial tail and didn’t know what to do with it. Joshua was here and clearly knew just as much as Neku did about his former idol’s whereabouts. They sat in silence as Joshua’s likely million-yen watch ticked away.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Neku replied flatly.

“You’re no fun, Neku,” Joshua needled. “Fine. Look, Sanae liked you, more than just the fact that you were my Proxy. Hell, I’m surprised he helped you at all, knowing what you represented in my Game. You were the bad guy.”

Joshua slunk in the only-until-recently broken bar seat, kicking at a shattered tile with an awfully expensive sneaker. When he couldn’t quite reach, his form shifted back to that of an adult, flinging the chipped tile aside like a petulant child. “Neku, I need you.”

“Like you needed me to destroy Shibuya.”

Joshua exhaled, wisps of golden hair fluttering as he stared at anything but Neku. “I’ve been trying to find Hanekoma for years. Every moment I’m not here keeping the city together, I’m traveling to find him. You wouldn’t understand, but I need you to get a lock on him.”

“You’re dimension hopping.”

Joshua sat straight up, his too-long legs hitting the café bar as he did so. “Fuck,” he hissed, rubbing at his knee. “Too tall for my own good. But how? How could you even know that?”

Neku pointed to the safe at the back corner of the café, still just as ajar as he left it when he found the key pin with Beat back in the game. “Mr. H. left me a book of notes: on the game, on angels, all of it.” Neku scrolled through his phone. “I used to keep it on me, thinking it would help me somehow, someday. Eventually, I just scanned it all.”

“Gimme,” Joshua demanded, and the phone was in his hands. Neku watched in awe at the Composer’s speed reading. “I know he kept notes for the Angels, but this wasn’t for them—it was for you. Where’s the real deal?”

“My apartment.”

“Address. Specific location. I’m talking ‘fourth floor, third bedroom, under the red futon next to my stack of- ‘”

Neku cut him off quickly, rattling off his exact address and where he hid the book. Joshua held out a free hand, and in a moment, it materialized with the softest of thunks, pages fluttering in Joshua’s fingertips. “Be glad I’m on good terms with the Composer of Taito Ward,” Joshua admonished, pointing with the small hand-bound journal. “Otherwise I would have sent you home to go get it yourself.”

“What, are you going to track down Hanekoma with this?”

“No, of course not,” Joshua snorted, standing upright, shaking himself once to completely dissipate any plaster shavings or broken chips from his clothing.

“You are.”

Xxx

Neku watched in awe as Joshua’s back bloomed with light, a pair of massive swan-like silver-white wings settling on his back, iridescent with hints of lavender as he shook them loose. Before Neku could think, Hanekoma’s journal was thrust into his hands, and Joshua had him in a position he’d later call The Little Spoon of Death. With a jerk backwards, the two fell through and landed precisely where they’d been before, except the shop was in clean, working order, jazz playing on the radio, and a familiar voice humming tunelessly along with the guitar.

“Heya, Josh. Back so soon?”

Neku blinked and almost cried when he saw the man behind the counter. “H-Hanekoma?!? Mr. H?”

“One of,” Hanekoma said with a shrug. “Not the one you’re looking for though.”

Neku tried to surge forward to give the man (angel?) a hug but was held firmly in place by Joshua’s murderous grip around his waist. “Let go,” Neku whined through gritted teeth.

“Not a good idea, Boss,” Hanekoma chided. “You don’t want to get stuck in the wrong place.”

Neku let himself slacken. “I can get stuck?”

“Sure as the rain ruining my day,” Hanekoma agreed. “When you’re in the right place, you’ll know.”

“Can you help?”

“Can I? Sure. Will I? No. He’s a hellion. You’re never going to find him anyway.”

“Isn’t he another you?”

“You wouldn’t say the same thing if you met you from this world,” Joshua said, exasperated. “I wonder why the book sent us here.”

“This is where you hid after Minamimoto tried to erase you, isn’t it?” Neku asked. He flipped through the journal. “He hid somewhere high to wait for you. Because he thought this Hanekoma would turn him into the Angel Police or something.”

“I did,” Hanekoma said proudly. “Can’t have me ruining my good name.”

“Fuck off,” Neku spat at the barista. “You’re not Hanekoma.”

“I’m the part of Hanekoma that actually follows our rules.”

Joshua squeezed Neku tighter. “Hold on and keep thinking of that.”

“What—whyyyyyyyyyy?!” Neku screamed as sound escaped him. The whole universe lurched underneath as Joshua resumed pinging around between alternate realities, barely stopping to breathe.

“Focus!” Joshua ordered him through the din of dizzying WildKat cafes, Shibuya skylines, and for a brief moment, possibly the cold depths of space.

“THERE IS NOTHING TO FOCUS ON YOU DAFT ZOMBIE!” Neku shouted back, feeling his insides out and outsides in before the two bounced off a massive plate of glass and went rolling out to nowhere. Joshua pulled his wings around them, breaking the fall as they bounced a few times to the sounds of shattering glass.

They stilled. Neku could hear his own breathing and feel his heart jumping in his chest. Disquietingly, Joshua had neither breath nor a heartbeat, his torso flat against Neku’s back without any noticeable sign of life. Neku quietly filed that part under “disgusting, do not remind” and wiggled a little to loosen Joshua’s grip on his midsection.

“Hang on,” Joshua hissed out. “Easy does it.”

“That was easy?”

“You should see hard,” Joshua said, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “And it might surprise you but… I think we’re here.”

Joshua rocked on the shoulders of his wings, pushing them both upright and parting a crack for them to see from.

The world consisted of a single, stained-glass building in a shattered-glass sky. The ground crunched with hardened paint beneath them.

“Somewhere high, following the rules… and nothing to focus on. Neku, sometimes, only sometimes, am I reminded of your genius.”

“I am in elbow-to-face range,” Neku reminded him.

“Yes, dear, and you’d best stay that way unless you want to swallow glass,” Joshua pointed out. “I’m too concerned about flying through that with a passenger, let alone someone alive, so we’re going to walk in tandem to the entrance and pray there’s no tricks along the way.”

Neku wanted to argue he wasn’t much for prayer but being cocooned in angel wings wasn’t doing him any favors in that department.

“Well at least I’m getting the inspiration I was looking for,” Neku muttered as he marveled through the tiniest of openings in between Joshua’s feathers. They both shuddered as pellets of colored glass dogged them like rain, Neku grimacing with each step.

“I think that is this world’s rain,” Joshua said aloud. “What? You’re thinking too loud. Either shut up or I’ll nitpick your thoughts. Last you want to do is swallow glass talking out loud, anyway.”

They walked in silence for what felt like eternity, roughly matching steps so their wing-cocoon tank didn’t topple. Peppered by the shards of rain, Neku was slowly getting a better view of the world outside his feathered umbrella.

The tower reminded him of Pork City, though it stretched upwards through molten clouds that burned red hot like liquid glass being worked at a forge. The whole thing was stained glass of infinite color—giant, angular panes crossed and reinforced by black, wrought iron-like supports, with sharp points sticking out at odd angles from the structure. 

“I think so too,” Joshua agreed with Neku’s wandering thoughts. “That’s Pork City, all right—made from Reaper wings. It looks like a gorgeous prison. A prison all the same, though,” he added, sighing.

Soon enough, the entrance loomed overhead, its maw of black webbing haphazardly stuffed with angular pastel glass. The tinkle of the rain bounced off the overhang as Joshua ever-so-slowly folded his wings behind him.

“I think you’re safe, for now,” he said, with the authoritativeness betraying his true age. “I promise, I’m not going to let you die here—you’re still holding Sanae’s book.”

“Because that’s all you care about,” Neku grumbled, to Joshua’s pout. “Oh, come off. I’m going to make up for all the teasing you did to me. Now let’s hope there’s an elevator in there or you’ll be flying us up the stairs.”

Xxx

“Lights are on; nobody’s home,” Joshua said, looking around as the two shuffled inside. “Okay, I’m letting go.”

“You’re what!” Neku shrieked, breathing heavy as Joshua smirked, unhooking his hands from around Neku’s waist. “Didn’t that other Hanekoma say it was a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a cataclysmically terrible idea. You’ll be trapped here forever now.”

“Joshua–I—you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“I mean, of course. I’m an ass, but nobody’s that heartless.”

“You murdered me. Twice.”

“I also brought you back to life, so no complaints,” Joshua snipped back. “Now, what have we here?”

Neku sighed, reminded of exactly how aggravating the little god could be. He looked around the entry foyer. The walls inside the building were a blinding white, almost piercing in their contrast to the stained glass on the outer walls of the monstrous tower. “I think this thing is alive,” Neku muttered.

“It’s not,” Joshua said, almost too quickly. “Or, rather, it’s as alive as Sanae or I am.”

“So it’s, what, an angel?”

Joshua kneeled down to touch the floor, a soft white abalone with a pearlescent sheen. “Yes. And we just entered the mouth.” Neku shuddered. “Oh, it’s not really that big a deal, Neku,” Joshua said, standing up and tsk-ing him with a finger. “This building is no more going to digest you than a wooden one; though I’m sure you’ve seen trees grow around and consume cars and houses.”

“Not helping,” Neku grumbled. “Hey, I’m not sure if it’s the retina damage, but are the walls bleeding paint?”

Joshua tucked his massive wings up high on his back, where they still trailed behind him like a couture dress, and shimmy-hopped over to the interior wall. “Oh, it’s probably retina damage,” he said cheerily, “you’re looking at pure light after all. But you’re not wrong.” Joshua swiped his hand along the wall, coming off it with a smear of mustard yellow acrylic paint. He blew on it, drying it immediately, and peeled it off like a face mask. “Must be the elevator hidden in the wall and… here we go.”

With a squelching sound like wrenching a tooth out of its socket—Neku wondering with a shudder that if that actually was a tooth—Joshua dislodged the panel, revealing a plush, red-velvet-lined elevator speckled with flecks of paint.

“If that’s a tongue, I’m out of here,” Neku complained.

“It’s not a tongue,” Josh said with a suspicious grin, stuffing himself inside with his wings still exposed. Neku shuffled and squeezed in, a massive feather poking him in the backside. The doors closed. “It’s the esophagus, Neku.”

Xxx

“Can’t you put those away?” Neku asked, after what felt like an eternity of being smothered by a giant chicken.

Joshua sighed, looking more serious than Neku was ever used to. “Yes, but I won’t.”

Neku expected him to elaborate, but Joshua merely went silent, hands out and open and feathers fluffed up.

Quickly, Neku understood why. It started quietly, a ping and a plop and a hiss, and became louder and more intense with each passing second. A few moments later, Neku was positive he wasn’t hearing things; it sounded like rain pouring from a gutter except… the rain was a stream of fire-engine red and the gutter was the walls of the elevator. The liquid pooled in the velvet flooring like blood matting the fur on a wounded, furry animal.

“Neku, move in before I make you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as Joshua threw his wings up around them again, reaching a hand out of the fluffy shield to pull the emergency stop on the elevator panel. Neku didn’t even realize how fast they’d been ascending until they screeched to a halt.

“The walls are bleeding.”

“Paint,” Joshua replied. “It’s just paint.”

“You also said the building was an angel,” Neku reminded him testily. “What’s to say that this isn’t—”

“Angel blood melts like acid,” Joshua replied flatly. Neku didn’t know if he were telling the truth or not, but the soles of his shoes, now caked in it, weren’t dissolving.

Joshua pulled him close, wrapping his left arm around his shoulders and left wing over that like a shield. Neku couldn’t see anything but white, but he felt a jolt of exertion and heard Joshua swear low.

“Neku, dear, stay close and don’t scream.”

In the time it took him to blink, the Joshua that Neku was familiar with vanished. Every pore of the elevator was leaking paint in gushes now; thankfully blues and greens and hot pinks, to put Neku slightly more at ease, balanced evenly with the remainder of the free space taken up by living, swirling paint.

Noise.

One giant one.

It was silent and snake-like, and it dug its claws into the elevator door, wrenching it open without a sound save the rushing air.

The elevator had stopped between two floors, and the Noise slipped out the bottom to slide down to the floor below.

Move, it demanded of him. Drowning in paint doesn’t belong in your obituary.

Neku more or less knew the beast had been Joshua, but the voice in his head finally cemented it.

“I’ll break my legs.”

“I’ll catch you.”

Neku didn’t even register the response said aloud, slipping down the paint-soaked velvet and landing in a nest of color-streaked feathers.

“See?”

“I’m drenched,” Neku grumped, and then realized he wasn’t. His and Joshua’s clothes were pristine again, though the wild streaks of paint still covered Neku’s arms and Joshua’s feathers.

“Not getting rid of it all. I don’t know if the building is trying to attack us and I’d rather we still smell like it.”

“You think?” Neku asked sarcastically. He looked around the room. Paint had pooled in oil-slick puddles on the floor and was leaking out cracks in the walls. Neku heard dripping from overhead, looking up to see globs of color slowly plopping from the ceiling. The acrylic paint’s own drying-to-plastic properties were likely the only thing preventing a flood of multicolored rain on them.

Carefully, Neku hot-footed around the deepest puddles and made his way to the stained glass on the perimeter.

“We are really high up,” he breathed out, looking at the world below.

Joshua fluttered, and landed gracefully next to him. “We are. Care not to break the glass.”

“I’m not that—”

“—without me,” Joshua continued, barreling for the window, grabbing Neku as he shattered an entire pane.

For a moment, time stood still, not that it mattered much in this place to begin with. The triangular pastel shards exploded out with them on the side of the building and Neku swore he heard it scream. The shards from the broken window floated around them, glittering against the glass rain pelting them from above. Joshua pulled Neku in tighter, wings curled.

“Duck.” That was Neku’s only warning as Joshua opened his wings to propel them up against the pellets of crystalline rain before hurling himself sideways, crashing into another exterior wall.

“Human bodies are too frail,” Joshua tsk’ed at him once they finished rolling in a 20 centimeters deep pool of paint. With a hand wave, Neku found himself as clean as he could be, and free of scratches.

Paint sluiced down from their entry hole, likely streaking the outside of the building as the room began to drain. Neku shook the stars from his eyes as Joshua flicked his fingers across his button-down shirt, sending the liquid colors away as he did so.

His wings were still streaked with neon.

The room had no stairs, no elevator shaft, from what Neku could see. It was just glass around the outside and a concrete floor and ceiling. Scattered about the room were pillars and flat concrete pieces, some wall-to-ceiling, but most about half height—like an art gallery.

The entire room, save the glass, was completely covered in art.

Graffiti.

Classical.

Renaissance.

Ukiyo-e

Cubist.

It was one step short of being an eyesore. And as the paint drained out, pouring down the exterior side of the building, Neku could see the floor, too, covered with incredible works of art. He felt almost embarrassed when he moved his foot, leaving behind a hot-pink footprint on impressionist lilies.

“They’re just copies,” Joshua said sternly, looking around. “Technically precise, but nothing original except in how it’s all mashed together.”

Neku nodded. “I just stepped in Monet.”

“Well, a good copy. Poor Sanae. Stay on your guard, Neku; he’s up here somewhere. And he’s probably not going to look like what you’re used to.”

“Like how you were a dragon?” Neku asked.

“His street art handle isn’t CAT for nothing.”

“I’m assuming it’s not a housecat, then,” Neku hissed back, suddenly concerned. Both of them winced on hearing a howl.

Quiet, Joshua ordered inside his head. And stay behind me.

Neku nodded and the two wove their way through the gallery, following the sound of growls and irritated hisses. Joshua slowly peeled around a corner, motioning for Neku to follow.

A great graffiti-winged panther that Neku could only assume was Mr. Hanekoma glared back through acid-paint eyes.

Xxx

Joshua shoved Neku roughly aside, striding confidently to the massive graffiti beast.

“Hello, old friend,” Joshua said, tired and aged himself.

The creature screamed. The concrete half-wall Neku had been cowering behind exploded into fragments of color and shrapnel.

The beast froze, sniffed. It took one step, then another, leaning its gargantuan head over the broken divider to look down at Neku.

Neku had never been terrified before. Even in the Game, he’d had periods when he was scared, adrenaline coursing through him like the drug it was. But this abject fear to witness a man he trusted—who he might even consider a friend—be reduced to a mindless abomination drooling tempera paint overhead was sobering.

The beast opened its maw wide. Joshua jumped to his side in a flash, throwing up a wing to protect him.

Hanekoma tilted his head a little, reminiscent of a puppy. “Ne….ku?”

Xxx

Neku and Joshua watched over the next…however long it took. Hanekoma paced, occasionally knocking over a bucket of paint or, in one case, slamming into one of the concrete half-wall dividers with his flank as his graffiti form jittered and convulsed.

He’s coming back around, Joshua hissed in Neku’s head. At this point, we just need to wait.

Neku nodded. Joshua still held a wing up and an iron grip on the other’s arm and waist, but it was with good reason. Hanekoma screamed again, rupturing the concrete and Neku’s eardrums. For a few moments, Neku saw nothing but static, before the searing pain faded.

“—Sanae, Sanae, come back to us,” Joshua pleaded in croaking whispers as Neku’s hearing returned. “Please. Your attacks are only hurting him, see? I just had to completely repair his eardrums.”

The cat-beast howled again, knocking Neku utterly unconscious this time.

Xxx

Neku came to on the floor of the gallery, slowly taking stock of the room around him through hazy peripheral vision. Most of the dividers were at least punched through, if not entirely destroyed. A cold hand covered most of his forward vision, however.

“Neku, can you hear me?” Hanekoma’s gruff voice was twanged with concern.

“He should; I fixed his eardrums twice in one eternity,” Joshua grumped.

“Mister….H?” Neku croaked.

“J, make him some water.”

Slowly, a sturdy arm pulled Neku to sitting, leaning his body back into something warm, but lacking breath and a pulse. It was too broad to be Joshua, confirmed when the other hand slipped away to take an offered bowl of water.

Hanekoma was in human form again. Human-ish, at least.

“Drink, kiddo.”

“I’m twenty,” Neku protested before coughing up a little blood, realizing that was the first full sentence out of his mouth to the former barista.

“Hey, all humans are kids to me,” Hanekoma laughed. “J, he needs his throat patched up too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joshua whined, leaning forward to place three fingers against Neku’s neck. Immediately, Neku felt a wave of calm wash over, and his throat felt clear. “Now drink, before I whip you up an IV. I can patch you up, but I’m not magically refilling you with lost fluids. I don’t have the brainspace right now for that.”

Neku slowly downed the water, leaning heavily into Hanekoma. “I don’t have the brainspace to brain for at least a week.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” Hanekoma added. “I’m not even sure how I’m back to any kind of sanity as it is.”

Joshua rolled his eyes and refilled the water bowl with a gesture. “Enough of you was sane enough to be worried.”

“You brought a living human as bait, J! Of course I was worried.”

“It worked.”

“That doesn’t make it—” Hanekoma hissed, squeezing Neku’s shoulders a little too hard.

“I missed you,” Neku cut in. “It looked like all of Shibuya did, even though they never knew who you were.”

“Of course they knew,” Hanekoma said gently. “I was the local barista, ready with a good cup ‘o joe. I was the artist that painted the town red.”

“All the Reapers I spoke to had nothing but praise for you,” Neku continued. “I ran all over the city today finding that out.”

Neku felt the single loud thump of a heartbeat from the ethereal body keeping him upright. “Really now?”

“None of them knew you had a connection to the game either,” Neku continued, getting a second wind. “They just praised CAT’s art and WildKat’s coffee.”

“Hmph.”

“Won’t you come back, Sanae?” Joshua asked, a pleading smile on his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I wish I could, J.”

“What do you mean you wish? You’re an Angel, for Someone’s sake!”

“Er, about that,” Hanekoma said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m… well. I’m not not an angel, I guess. But this is my punishment.”

“You’re definitely under supervision,” Joshua said testily. “Your warden was more annoying than anything else.”

“I take offense to that,” Hanekoma’s voice reverberated through all three of them.

Joshua nearly growled. “You know, you could have skipped the theatrics. If you wanted us gone, you could have Erased us, or just booted us out.”

Neku blinked the last of the daze away. “Hold on. I’m missing something here.”

“Remember how we passed a million billion WildKats and Sanaes and Shibuyas trying to find this place?” Joshua grumbled. “And how Sanae knew what we were doing? Angels have a singular hive mind. Mostly. I’m not actually an Angel, mind you—sort of just a hatchling, an infant. But he’s a real-deal Higher Plane beastie.”

Neku frowned, putting up a finger, lost in thought. Hanekoma went to speak, only for Joshua to shush him.

“Neku’s smart enough to put the pieces together. Give him a moment.”

“I gave him at least a concussion, if not brain damage, J.”

“Which I fixed.”

“The building.” Neku’s face sharpened into a frown.

Joshua and Hanekoma turned their heads to Neku, now sitting upright unassisted as he bopped his finger to his own internal music, slotting what he knew in place. “You said the building was an angel. This building, this whole thing, is this dimension’s Mr. H. All of the other yous are mad at you, aren’t they?”

Hanekoma nodded, exhaling a sigh. “I’m… sort of still an angel. But they cut me off from the Hive and took my inspiration. I can’t leave until I have them back.”

“I’m going to have a word with Management.” Joshua hoisted himself off the shrapnel-pocked floor, stomping a foot. “Elevator, if you please.”

“J, you’re crazy.”

“Aware. So?”

The three heard a ding as a concrete cube rose from the floor, the elevator with it. It opened with a smooth motion, the door already fixed but the interior still caked in paint.

“Am I the hostage negotiator, or can all of us go?” Joshua asked the elevator, irritated, arms crossed and wing-feathers fluffed in annoyance. In response, the elevator ballooned sideways, expanding the interior to accommodate three adults and one massive pair of wings.

“All right,” Joshua sighed out. “Everybody in.”

Xxx

The elevator hummed pleasantly and dinged, opening back up to the pearly-white entryway. The large front doors—triangular shards of crisscrossing stained glass—were blocked off by an aggressive black chain and padlock. A gleaming solid front desk sat at the entryway with a bored Hanekoma flipping lazily through a completely blank magazine. He shot them a grin; Neku noticed he was missing a tooth.

“Ah, hello. Thanks for giving me one heck of a sore throat, J.”

“Can it. I’m busting him out,” Joshua snapped, straight to the point.

Hanekoma put down the magazine, all high-gloss and solid-white pages. “Oh? How?”

Joshua pointed at the door, the chain and lock melting like acid under his gaze. “The front door, how else? Unless you want a few more teeth popped out.”

“That isn’t what I meant, J,” Hanekoma-behind-the-counter said simply. “Your me isn’t an angel right now. You take him out of here and he’s a mortal. I give him a few decades, tops. Stay and he’ll pay his price eventually; won’t you, you sorry excuse for a me?”

Joshua’s Sanae wrung his hands. “I’ll head back up. I did say you didn’t need to come for me, J.”

“If you leave before your sentence is up… you’re mortal?” Joshua asked, his voice cracking a little.

“Yeah, sorry Boss. I’ll take the long way ‘round.”

Neku frowned, scratching at some dried paint on his cheek. “Hang on. What is his sentence exactly? Josh, you said yours was being banned from the RG, but nothing stopped you from letting me see the UG.”

Joshua broke out into a nasty grin. “Ohhhhhhhh Neku, dear. I need to have you get brain damage more often.”

“No,” Neku interjected flatly.

“Aw, it was only a temporary inconvenience. Anyway, Sanae—either of you—what is his exact punishment from the Higher Plane? I want the full contract.”

The glass world’s Sanae slid him the blank magazine. “They were pretty thorough.”

Xxx

When Neku turned his back on the front desk, a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table, all in different shades of blinding alabaster, existed under the overhang just to the side of the entryway. The tinkle of stained-glass-shard rain peppered the overhang roof and a rainbow of garish light streaked in between the storm clouds outside. Joshua lifted his wings, draped them over the back of the sofa, and got to reading.

The only sounds were the tinkling of the rain, Joshua’s ever-ticking watch, and the occasional turn of a page.

Neku tapped his fingers on his jeans. “Can I do anything?”

“No,” muttered Joshua, half in thought flipping through the plain pages.

“Haven’t you done enough?” asked the bored warden, slouching at his desk.

“I could… clean the elevator,” Neku offered, trying to figure out something to do. He was definitely caught in some sort of celestial war, played out in miniature. Everything was over his head right now as he looked sideways to the glass-world Hanekoma. He looked the same as all the others—rolled-up button down, slacks, waistcoat, watch, sandals, sunglasses, messy hair—though he did seem a bit more… shiny, like light was reflecting off of him. Neku didn’t want to consider what it meant for him to both be standing at the front counter as well as being the entire building.

“You’d do that?” the glass angel questioned, confused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m just standing here. And it’s partially my fault that happened. More so if it’s hurting you.”

“Angels aren’t people, Neku,” he replied, handing him a bucket of soapy water from nowhere. “We don’t feel pain.”

“You’re clearly in pain,” Neku shot back in a whisper after Joshua rustled the magazine loudly, clearing his throat in a way reminding Neku to not disturb him. “Let me help.”

“Help, huh?” The glass Hanekoma smiled, the missing tooth returning to its space after a moment of static. “That’s a new thought.”

“Nobody’s ever helped you before?” Neku asked, concerned, as the elevator dinged and opened. He walked to it, both Sanaes following. One handed the other another bucket, then made one for himself. The three went inside and Neku took to the floor, carefully washing down the carpeting. The door slid closed and the three worked in silence.

“Not me, no,” the glass one admitted. “Not most of us. Angels don’t interact with your kind, or they really aren’t supposed to. I think some of us are jealous of the us from your world.” Another beat of silence. “I know I am.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” Neku asked.

“The other mes would make me a traitor, same as that one.” He jabbed his thumb at his duplicate. “In all honesty, I think it’s better than wasting away with only our own thoughts for company. All of us know it too—only that one said the quiet part out loud. There’s a small and finite number of angels, but an infinite number of each of us. One broken hive is a massive blow to the higher plane—kind of contradictory when you realize we run on Imagination. Think about it for five seconds and—”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Neku cut in, satisfied with the state of the floor, moving on to an aggressive teal spot on the wall. “If you run on Imagination but you’re made up as a ton of fragments that all have to think alike, any dissent and your own self turns on you. Seems a bit counterintuitive to have it that way.”

“The only possible outcome is to break apart from within,” Hanekoma agreed, but Neku wasn’t sure which one of them said it. Inside the elevator, the glass one didn’t have the odd shine he’d had in the foyer. At this point, he wasn’t sure it mattered.

Xxx

Neku and both Hanekoma exited the elevator, Joshua still pouring over the magazine. “They really did try and close every possible loophole,” he muttered. “I can’t see a way out… shy of killing you,” he added, looking up at the two angels. “And now I can’t even tell you apart.”

One of them smiled. “Neku just opened one up for you.”

“Oh?”

“Clause 16b.2.”

“Yes, ‘should the warden be unfit for service, Hanekoma is to serve the remainder of the sentence under a new warden.’ I was going to kill you and claim myself warden.”

“There’s no way the Higher Power would allow that. He’d just be transferred,” the other one said. Joshua raised an eyebrow to the first one—his Hanekoma. He slid his eyes between the two of them and the glass one scratched the back of his neck.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Neku shrugged and practically threw himself into one of the chairs, sighing as he sank into it. It was soft and warm and the light pinging of the rain overhead was lulling him to sleep.

“Stay awake,” Hanekoma ordered, pinching his elbow. “You started going see-through when you passed out last time—it’s what jolted me to consciousness. You aren’t coming all this way just for me to see you fade to nothing, Neku.”

Neku jolted upright, just as a steaming cup of coffee was placed in his hands. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” the glass Hanekoma said, determined. A third settee appeared between the other two; their captor-slash-host sat in it, placing a tray of coffee, tea, and snacks on the table between them. “And anyway, I’m unfit to be Hanekoma’s warden now. The Higher Plane may come for me soon. Though, soon here could be eons off. I know my time doesn’t run at the same pace as most of the other dimensions; that’s why I was picked to watch him. Joshua, they would never accept you under probation, but… Neku—you seem to be a favorite of upper management. Transferring to you shouldn’t be a problem. Hand him the contract, J.”

Neku blinked a bit of the daze from his eyes, downing the beverage. It felt like more than mere coffee, a solid glass of liquid courage, emboldening him.

Joshua hesitated, but passed the blank, glossy magazine sideways to Neku. He then stared down at the tray of offered snacks and carefully picked out a chessboard cookie, frowning at it, before biting the head off the knight’s horse.

Words swirled on the paper in Neku’s peripheral vision before he could see them straight off. “Can I get a translation?” he asked meekly, looking at the mess of block print before him.

“Did I not write it in Japanese?” Glass-Hanekoma asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” Neku sulked. “I can’t read lawyer.”

Joshua craned his neck sideways. “It’s a transferal of ownership contract. Standard language, except… hm. Neku, would you want to be an angel?”

Neku scrunched up his face. “Seeing what you deal with? No. I have enough trouble with artist’s block as it is. I’d rather it not be fatal.”

“Take out paragraphs eight and twenty, then.”

“Wait, this would have…”

“Made you one of us, yeah,” Joshua cut Neku off. “It does mean that if Hanekoma didn’t finish his sentence before you died, he would be mortal; so some sort of transferal clause needs to be added.”

Hanekoma snatched up the magazine, flicking it. “Consider it done. Sign and get out of here before I’m taken away too.” He grinned slyly. “Maybe I can keep the domino chain going. Wouldn’t the upper management just love that?”

Neku flicked his eyes to Joshua. “I still trust you, Josh. How’s it look?”

“We can take him with us. You’re his warden ‘til you die or his sentence is done, then you can renegotiate angelhood if you want.”

“But… what is his sentence?” Neku asked, looking between the now indistinguishable Hanekoma.

“I have to re-earn my Imagination: the human way.”

“No magic?”

“Some magic. About as much as Josh has. Which is a lot compared to you. Very little compared to before. And none at all when I’m not near my warden… though I’m not sure how near near is.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the second Hanekoma said, squeezing the first’s shoulder. “I’ve given you a little extra juice on your way. I’m sure they’ll take mine from me anyway. It’s enough to manifest your wings again, at least. Now get out of here, before there’s bigger problems. All of us is already tattling.”

“Bunch of assholes,” Hanekoma hissed under his breath.

“We both were, too. Well, me at least. Think you were always the black sheep. Now, sign and get.”

Joshua plucked a pen from nowhere, handing it to Neku who turned to the angelic twins. “You trust me?”

“With your life,” both Hanekoma said with a nod.

Neku signed with a flick of his wrist, the pull of slumber taking him again. He could barely hear Hanekoma and Joshua shout something as they hauled him upright at the torso.

With a jerk that felt like someone had tied a rope around his waist and then yanked on it from behind, Neku blinked his eyes open to Hanekoma’s shop, as destroyed as it was when they’d left it. He gasped for breath, completely winded and woozy, the world spinning around him until he succumbed, sliding out of Hanekoma and Joshua’s shared grip to bounce on the cracked tile floor.

Xxx

Hanekoma frowned, flapping feathered wings he forgot he’d missed. “J, you know you can’t throw yourself around the mortals—not like that. Not even to someone like him.” Carefully, Hanekoma pulled Neku out of the rubble, flinging his body over a shoulder. “Be glad he’s just passed out. If he stayed a moment longer in that dimension, he would have been gone. You could have killed him or worse.”

“But I didn’t,” Joshua insisted. “I needed him.”

“Did he know the risks?” Hanekoma asked roughly, finally free to yell at his former boss-and-ward without Neku overhearing. “He didn’t. You never told him.”

“You said in your notes that I’d be a strain on him. He had to know what that meant.”

“There’s a difference in knowing what your toned-down presence would do over a week versus what the full force of your power would do to him in a few hours,” Hanekoma chided. “He may have known the former, but you certainly didn’t tell him the latter.”

“What’s your point?” Joshua asked, watching Hanekoma shift Neku’s unconscious form into a more comfortable carry.

“My point is, stop breaking things, J. Stop treating everything like a broken bone that’s healing the wrong way. Not everything has to be shattered even more to fix it.”

“You were imprisoned by the Angels! All for trying to protect this city!” Joshua protested.

“I would have finished my sentence eventually,” Sanae countered in a calm and even tone. “I may have been in that place for eons, but it was—what? Three years here, maybe?”

“Five,” Joshua whimpered with a pout.

Hanekoma’s eyes flicked up and down Joshua, seemingly searching for something. “I’m putting Neku down in a room and warding it. He needs to recoup.”

Hanekoma turned on his heel to the shop backrooms, leaving Joshua standing confused in the mound of rubble.

Xxx

Whatever Hanekoma was doing, he was taking his sweet time. But Joshua heeded the barista’s words and waited, rolling his shoulders and slowly ratcheting his own wings back into the ether. Bored, he made himself a broom from Imagination and began idly sweeping up the chipped plaster and shattered tile. Eventually, Hanekoma returned to the shop portion of the building, eyeing Joshua.

“Physical labor? That’s a first.”

“I… I feel,” Joshua said, stopping to roll the broom handle in his fingertips. “I feel responsible.”

Hanekoma lowered his shades, peering over them. “Responsible. Who are you and what have you done with J?”

“I grew up, Sanae. Someone had to. You weren’t here. I have a new Conductor and Producer now.”

“What, so I’m outta a job?”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Joshua said, almost pleading. “You just don’t have any obligations. Other than your sentence, I guess.”

“With Neku as my warden,” Hanekoma sighed out. “You didn’t need to plan a jailbreak, J. You’ve waited longer than five years for things before. It’s hardly an eye-blink to people like us.”

Joshua slunk to the floor, defeated and boneless as he slid down the broom handle. A small cloud of debris puffed up around him as he went.

“Drama queen,” Hanekoma tsk’ed as he joined his former colleague on the floor, nesting his wings around himself. “I can’t say this isn’t nice though. Missed ya, J. Being honest, I don’t remember much at all from that place, anyway. Could’ve been a long time there before I became myself again without your little stunt.”

Joshua didn’t answer.

They sat in silence a few moments, then Hanekoma choked back a cry as his coworker—his friend—grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him just under his wings. Hanekoma flapped them in surprise as Joshua buried his head in the down.

Angel and Reaper wings were their Soul; one didn’t just touch them—not without explicit permission. To touch someone’s wings meant someone else could feel what they did. Feel their joy, their disgust, their pain, or all at once.

Hanekoma didn’t pull away. He could hear—just barely, but it was there—Joshua sobbing silently into his back. Joshua was, for the first time in his so-called-life, showing Hanekoma a vulnerability he didn’t know the other even possessed. Slowly, the barista relaxed both sets of shoulders, taking on more and more of Joshua’s weight until his Composer was literally leaning on him as much as metaphorically.

Seconds ticked away from Joshua’s Pegasso crystal-quartz watch, which turned to minutes, then a solid half hour. Slowly, Hanekoma felt the weight lift.

“You let me,” Joshua said, a bit hoarse, patting the down where wing phased through clothes.

“You needed it, J. Pain shared is pain halved. I was happy to listen.”

“You didn’t want to be saved,” Joshua said sharply. “Forgive me for feeling like you were ungrateful. But… you weren’t. You were protecting me from the angels and a sentence like yours. You were a fall guy.”

“Yes,” Hanekoma said slowly. “I didn’t want you to suffer, too. Not being visible to the RG is hardly a penalty compared to what I have.”

“Pain shared is pain halved,” Joshua threw back at him, wiping snot off his face. If he’d been in his teenage form, he would have looked like just another kid. But Joshua was an ugly crier, and as an adult, he just looked silly—more so with a few errant feathers from Hanekoma’s back stuck to his dripping snot and hair.

“Wash up—the backroom sink works,” Hanekoma insisted, flapping his wings a few times to get rid of any other loose feathers. “I need to do some tidying, anyway.”

Joshua reverently ran his fingers through the shoulder of Hanekoma’s left wing. “Clean the shop all you want; you know all about me and dirt. But leave this part to me.”

Xxx

“I kinda expected more, Sanae.” Joshua leaned in the doorframe, pristine as her always presented himself to the public.

“I’m not exactly going to waste my magic, Boss.” Hanekoma went back to wiping down the countertops with a wet rag. The only change Joshua could see was all the broken furniture piled in a corner, with the floor debris in an equally uncoordinated pile.

“The human way?” Joshua asked with a smirk.

“If I’m not your Producer, I need a little art project to keep me busy.”

“Wouldn’t really call fixing a coffee shop art,” Joshua scoffed.

“It’s not not art, though,” Hanekoma countered, flinging the wet rag on a shoulder and smiling at the dented, but still functional, kettle on the burner, whistling away. “Tea?”

“Mm,” Joshua hummed with a nod. “Also, Neku’s phone was ringing nonstop.” He pulled his own from a pocket. “Oh. It’s past ten PM. Someone’s probably been wondering what happened to him. Least it’s still the same day we left.” Joshua cracked a small smile. “Gone for a week and the mortals think you’re dead or something.”

Hanekoma threw the rag square in Joshua’s face, storming past him to go retrieve the offending cell phone.

Xxx

Hanekoma sat on one of the two useable stools, Joshua behind him on the other, sipping tea from one hand while using the other to pull out stuck feathers. The barista unlocked Neku’s phone, scrolling through twenty missed calls. “Shiki. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“You planning to call?”

“I should. Neku’s probably going to need a day or more to recuperate. And then you’re going to call his mother and let her know he’s sick with a fever.”

“Can’t. RG people can’t perceive me for another few years, remember? Phone calls included.” He grinned toothily. “You’ll just have to clean up the mess for me.”

Hanekoma sighed, stretching out his wings a little so Joshua could pull out all the powder down stuck from his eons of not taking care of himself, and pressed a familiar name in the missed calls history. “Hello? Shiki?”

“Oh my god, is this the police? Where’s Neku?”

“Shiki,” Hanekoma smiled a little, glad for a familiar voice. “It’s… Hanekoma Sanae—the café shop owner on Cat Street.”

Hanekoma waited patiently as Shiki processed what that meant. “If Neku is dead, I’m wringing a long line of necks. Joshua’s first; something tells me this is his fault.”

Joshua laughed hard enough to slam forward into the angel’s back; Sanae shot him a glare. “Neku is alive, but he’s taken a massive hit of Imagination. He’s probably going to sleep a day or two.”

“But he’s alive.”

“Alive and in no pain, with no injury. Mortals just can’t handle being around a city Composer too long.” Hanekoma glared over his shoulder at a snickering young-looking man in a lilac button down.

“I’m coming over there,” Shiki insisted. “And Joshua better be ready to take a knee to the balls.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see or hear him, but hang on,” Hanekoma said, pushing back on the deadweight behind him with his wings. “I’m putting you on speaker. Feel free to yell at him—I already have.”

Hanekoma clicked to speakerphone, maximizing the volume and holding the phone out behind him.

“Go ahead, Shiki. He can hear you.”

Shiki took in a deep breath, expelling a gasp of colorfully laced expletives so pointed Joshua’s hair began to catch fire. The moment she was out of breath, she slammed the end-call button with enough force that Joshua’s wings twitched, even within their aether.

“Josh, you’d better be out of my shop before she gets here or you’re going to be in deep shit.”

“I didn’t realize someone who played the Game before could deal that much splash damage,” Joshua complained, patting out the embers on the edges of his loose curls.

“You were human once yourself, J. Now bolt before she sets all of you on fire.”

“Good night to you too,” Joshua grumped, crossing his arms as he slid off the seat, leaving Hanekoma’s wings in a worse looking state than when he’d started. He saluted awkwardly to the sighing barista, disappearing out into the night.

Xxx

“How are you holding up, kiddo?”

Neku rubbed the crust out of his eyes. “What year is it?”

“Same one you were in before this mess.” Hanekoma smiled. “You slept away three days, though. I impersonated you on the phone to your mom and college—hope that’s alright.”

“So it’s…”

“Monday night. Six PM. Josh’s going to stay away from you for a while.”

“That why I feel like shit?”

“Mhmm. You want me to bring you in some food?”

“Bathroom,” Neku complained.

“Think mine still works.”

“You think?”

“Neku, I’m not human. I’ve never needed it.”

Xxx

“So now what?” Neku bit into his burger; nothing Hanekoma made, but then again, his kitchen was mostly still in shambles.

“I guess I rebuild. Maybe I take some art classes at community college.”

“Then I’m helping.”

“No, you’re-”

Neku glared up from his dinner. “That’s not up for debate. I’m your prison warden, remember? I help and in return, you let me paint in here.”

Hanekoma laughed. “You don’t even need to ask permission for that.”

“Oh, so I can tag every wall, floor, and ceiling in this bombed out husk of a deserted island?”

The barista frowned, leaning forward on the counter. “That didn’t get me any closer to having any inspiration, you know.”

“And I think that’s a lie,” Neku replied, crossing his arms. “Josh didn’t see it either. Maybe the individual components were copies, but that space you made in that other place was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe it. Nothing we do is truly unique anyway; we’re always working off the backs of those who came before us. It’s what voice we add to that conversation that makes our art what it is and… I should really be following my own advice. Hang on. I’m making a few calls, and you’re not stopping me.”

Neku pulled out his phone and rolled through his contacts list. “Hey, Sho. I’ve got a destroyed café here ripe for a giant-ass chandelier. You in?”

“Neku,” the other end of the line sounded annoyed. “I don’t do electrical.”

“So? You do the sculpture; I’ll get someone else to wire.”

“It’s going to be made of trash.”

“Why do you think I called your ass? Take notes; here’s the address.”

Xxx

“I haven’t done heavy lifting in… forever,” Hanekoma said, wiping actual sweat off his brow. It was a weird feeling, being sort-of human, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. The past six weeks had been a whirlwind with Neku in charge, directing a steady stream of ethereal beings— self included— into a massive renovation of his shop. The place was an explosion of color and life, an irony in real time to contrast the lack of both on the owner.

“Quit complaining,” Uzuki demanded, hauling the other end of the new bar counter. “If I can get Kariya to lift your tables in, you can help with your own damn high-top.”

“The one you danced on,” Hanekoma said with a grin, looking down at the hot purple and neon orange footprints crisscrossing the acrylic-sealed bar counter. The two had tangoed across a plank, then encased it for eternity in enough two-stage resin that it would never fade—Neku was particularly proud of that collaboration. Uzuki pushed the shop door with her shoulder, so both of them could bring the counter inside.

“—and you don’t need to hold that ladder, Neku.”

“I don’t want you falling,” Neku snapped back, looking up at the Reaper wiring in the shop’s new light fixture. It looked like a vending machine had exploded on the ceiling, and Hanekoma loved it.

“Neku, I can fly,” Triple Seven replied, waving a pair of wire strippers. He was flapping his wings to show those off as well, not that Neku could see them from the RG.

“My masterpiece can’t,” Sho grumbled from the corner, looking on in a mix of horror and awe as Seven worked his stage rigging magic to get the recycled-bottle chandelier hooked into the building’s wiring.

“Look, it’s way easier for me to do this if I’m not trying to balance,” Seven sighed out. “Sho, get up here and hold it in place, so I can finish. Neku, go help do something that doesn’t involve a ceiling or frying yourself on open electricals.”

Sho sighed, stood up, and vanished back into the UG, flapping up to hold the sculpture as Seven jumped off the ladder. Neku winced, unable to see either of them.

“If you can hear me, I’m going to check on Shiki and her friends making chair cushions.” Sho rattled the ladder with his foot, and Neku smiled. “Hey, Mr. H, your shop’s haunted.”

“I’d be more worried if it wasn’t.”

Xxx

“So?” Hanekoma slid a ceramic cup down the acrylic to Neku. “Get your grade back yet?”

“Semester ends in January, Mr. H; it’s gonna be a while yet. How about your magic?”

“While this helped, no. It’ll be a while yet for me too. Can’t complain about the décor, though.”

Hanekoma and Neku grinned, taking in the space. Except for one section of wall painted with chalkboard paint for patrons to go wild doodling on, every square inch of the shop was covered in art altogether dizzying and explosively contrast in design.

“Opens tomorrow, right? My teacher is coming around again to see it.”

“Soft open today though.”

“Sign said closed,” Neku pointed out with his teaspoon.

“Maybe for the living.”

“Ah, a few reapers pass by?” Neku asked with a smile. “Hey, make a bet with you.”

“What?”

“How many days the shop’s open before a paying customer draws a dick on your wall.”

“Zero.”

Neku looked sideways as a handful of change bounced across the counter, Sho coming into view. He downed his already half-drunk coffee and loped to the chalkboard to vandalize it. Neku flicked his eyes at the empty tables and chairs, a massive grin breaking out on his face as every single one was filled in with a Reaper, raising glasses in toast.

“We all needed someplace to stay,” Hanekoma said on the room’s behalf. “Thanks for giving us a home. It’s still pretty broken and lopsided, but I promise we’ll keep the lights on.”

“Mr. H, this was already your home.”

He shook his head. “No, Neku. It was only a shop.”

“If its home, does that mean the drinks are free?” A few reapers turned to the furthest corner of the room—Joshua grinned, sitting backwards in his chair.

“J, what did I say about coming ‘round when Neku’s here?” Hanekoma scolded.

“…Don’t?”

“Short bursts only, lest you want to clean up the exploding brains on the wall.”

Neku shrugged. “It’ll probably add to the ambiance.”

[txthearteu]

extra long tag game (aka a tmi that no one particularly cares for)

tagged by @soobindipity​ 🥰 thank you bb 😌❤️

tagging @btxtreads​​ @choisoobinie​​ @unlocktxt​​ @bffsoobin (this one is long so feel free not to do it ahahahaksksksks)

note: i found the breakers somewhere here in tumblr but i forgot who the owner is, so full credits to whoever owns these breakers

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

of course it’s their debut song Crown. I have to admit, I listened to them not because i discovered them but because of the whole “bighit is releasing another boy group” fiasco. people thought the hype would die down, i did too, but to this day the boys never failed me. they consistently made me happy with the content they gave out for everyone to enjoy. also adding, i think i’m attracted to them more (compared to their seniors) since they’re around my age– something in which i feel like i can relate to (in terms of the content they put out, or the jokes, etc)

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

becoming a music artist (pop star) 😔

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

travel to Japan and explore the place 😩

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

chopsticks hahahahaha because i usually eat using the spoon and fork when i eat out 

favourite type of plushies and why?

anything twotuckgom related! they’re so soft and convenient because of the size. i also kinda wanna buy the bolsters 👀

favourite song right now?

i don’t have any but if you ask what i’ve been jamming to i’d say its city girls by chris brown

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

producing music, japanese, korean, hacking 

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

so in the city where i live, there are places in which the canals don’t have any stoppers. i saw this kid walking with his family alongside these canals and he was just vibing with the song he was singing to. he was so into the song he was singing that he missed a step and he kinda slipped and fell in to the canal (don’t worry though there weren’t any serious injuries) and i swear it was a funny sight 

headphones or speakers? why?

headphones! when the opportunity is present then i’d listen to my music with no outside noise

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

corndogs 👀

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify since i’m on spotify family 

😌✌️

questions from eri to me:

what’s the best trip/vacation you’ve ever had?

the vacation i had in Japan last year! 10 days never felt so short in my life and i was planning to go back earlier this year but you know...’rona....

do you have any random fears/phobias? if yes, what are they?

i’m the toughest gal everyone knows but i get really creeped out by butterflies or bugs. i also get scared with inanimate objects that look like a human being when it’s laying still in the dark, i’m scared of mirrors as well HAHA.

weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?

worms

do you have any hidden talents? what can you do?

i can curl my tongue into what seems to resemble a three-leafed clover. i can also mimic voices well and, from what my friends said, i could actually dance well and im super fast in picking up choreography hahaha (ok but it’s what they said okay)

what is an activity you’d like to try out someday?

biking/hiking/camping :> 

when did you get your first phone and what type of phone was it?

i think it was back in 4th grade and it was the famous nokia 3310 

what is a movie you never get tired of watching?

flipped!

biggest pet peeve?

 i absolutely get annoyed when someone tries to rush me and by the time i’m ready, they haven’t readied themselves

earliest childhood memory?

i put sand in this ice-cream-cone-looking rock, and i ate the sand thinking it tasted like ice cream

as a child, what did you want to be? what about now?

a music artist (pop star), until now that’s still my dream but unfortunately, i had to be “practical” 

✌️😌

questions from me to you:

android or apple? why?

words of affirmation or physical affection? why?

bean bag or rocking chair? why?

do you view a half-filled glass as half-full or half-empty or an in-between? why? (go as deep as you can)

if someone were to grant your wish right now, what would it be and why?

if someone were to give you anything you want right now, what would it be and why? (something that can be held)

favorite season and why

what made you enter tumblr?

are you happy with where you are in life right now? why or why not?

to see the boys in real life but for it to happen only once in your lifetime, or to meet the boys via online fan meeting as many times as you can in your lifetime? why?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people

.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: -

nickname: cj

birthday: oct 12

zodiac: libra

nationality: filipino

languages: english, filipino (and my dialect), lil teeny bit or korean and japanese kskskskksks

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 5'1 and a half (spare me the half pls im trying to act tall)

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: --

meaning behind my url: to put it simply, i love txt

blog established: start of quarantine

followers: 43 lovely followers! 

FAVORITES

favourite animals: do you know cat and dog?

favourite books: anarchy by styleslegend (swear i've been hyping it since my 1d days) ; the tale of heidi by johanna spyri

favourite colour: yellow/brown/black (can’t choose)

favourite fictional characters: hulk, hinata shoyo, tomoe (from kamisama kiss)

favourite flower: i don’t have any ahahahhaha

favourite scent: mens perfume/deoderant

favourite season: spring

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 6-9

cats or dogs: (i love them both but i really love dogs but i just wanna hug them both because i love both cats and dogs)

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee is my go to energizer, for some chill time i’d go for hot choco

current time: 22:34

dream trip: japan(again)/australia/europe 😩

dream job: music artist 😔

hobbies: playing instruments [violin piano ukelele sometimes guitar and drums], listening to music, writing songs, beatboxing

hogwarts house: slytherin 

last movie watched: oh dear god i cant remember HAHA

last song listened to: bbibbi by iu

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): if given the chance again, i’d combine mint choco and bubblegum ice cream; when i’m bored i try to re-read all my past lessons AHAHAHAHAHA; currently in a 5-year relationship akshsskskssjsjduskgkad

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to

city girls - chris brown, young thug

angel or devil - tomorrow by together

paradise - bts

zombie - day6

see you again - tyler the creator, kali uchis

dally - hyolyn, gray

love - kendrick lamar, zacari

redemption (with babes wodumo) - kendrick lamar, zacari

pyramids - frank ocean

all in - monsta x

[specdracers]

LANDON BENNETT + THE MOMENTS THAT MADE YOU 

"thought i got through it, maybe i didn’t ; thought it was over, maybe it isn’t.”

          he’s five years old in southern alabama, and he’s at the first foster home he can remember. landon’s happy. the parents are kind; there’s another little boy here, and they become friends. it’s like he finally has that brother he’s always been wishing for. at this point, he’s too young and naive, not having seen the harsh reality of the world. he thinks he’s going to be able to stay, the parents seem nice enough. his belly is full and the clothes are new, and the foster parents make it seem like he’s going to stay there for the rest of his life. he grows used to it, growing far too attached to the family, and there’s even talk about him being adopted! ( but he’s too young to really understand what that means. ) but he finally learns that all good things must come to an end when the social worker comes to the door and his foster parents have already packed his bags. he can’t remember what they tell him, probably blocked it out. but as he gets into the van and his friend waves goodbye to landon from the door, he can’t help but wonder what he did wrong as he’s being brought into the next house.

          now he’s eight and in the third grade. he isn’t too cynical yet, but he’s known to be a loner amongst his classmates. he’s so, so young and he’s already learned that things are better if you keep people at a distance. he does pretty well in classes, getting by with what’s available at the home he’s at. the foster parents are okay, but he’s convinced they’re just doing it for the extra money because the mom just got laid off. the teachers look at him with sad eyes most of the time but he’s grown so used to it. the report card goes home with comments about applying himself and getting out of his shell to make friends. but he always ignores it ; why try to make friends when everyone inevitably leaves him?

          middle school is rough for everyone, but for landon, at the age of twelve, he hates it with his entire being. kids aren’t kind, and he’s already gotten into so many fights. they think it would be easy to pick on the kid from the crappy group home on the wrong side of the tracks, but little do they know that he sometimes has to fight over his food when he leaves to go home at night⎯⎯ he’s learned how to throw a pretty nice right hook by now. but this time, they’re not picking on him ( thankfully ). instead it’s another boy, one that he knows just moved into the group home, and they’re talking about his clothes, or his shoes, maybe his hair? landon can’t remember, but he just thinks of how many times he’s been in that position and within seconds he’s on top of the bully, seeing everyone who has ever hurt him until the gym coach has to pull him off. 

          it’s freshman year of high school, and he’s on the bus to the town’s high school, knees pulled into his chest. and even though he’s trying his best to not get his hopes up, fourteen year old landon finds himself praying to every higher power in the universe that high school won’t be nearly as bad as middle school, he doesn't know how much more he can take of it. the bus pulls up at a huge building with teens all around the front, and he already begin to hide, drowning out the chaos with his headphones blasting 90s rap. a small part of him wants to make friends, but it’s been so long he’s forgotten how. so instead, he walks around the crowded high school hallways, hood pulled up as he ignores pretty much anything and anyone. it’s like this for months, him going through the motions and his teachers are always shocked when landon actually turns in work. they know he has the capacity of doing it, he just lacks the motivation for well, anything. 

          sophomore year, and his classmates are beginning to get their licenses and cars as they turn sixteen and he’s jealous. he knows he won’t be getting one, he’s not stupid. that doesn’t prevent him from walking around with a chip on his shoulders. landon’s developed quite the temper over the course of his adolescence, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone. he’s the poster child of teenage angst, a tongue that’s wicked quick and fists sometimes just seeming to itch for a fight. people take note of this and for someone who has always wanting to be invisible, he gains a reputation around the school. his teachers mutter it’s a coping mechanism, the poor boy’s never known a family. and they’re right, but they could at least have the decency to not say it when landon’s within earshot. 

          it’s about halfway through his sophomore year and all the rich kids are talking about their holidays down to florida for christmas when he’s approached by a group of boys. he knows who they are; while landon has a reputation of getting into fights some days, that’s about the most trouble he causes. but this group? it’s a whole other animal compared to getting into fights because someone looked at you wrong. they’re the type to get into trouble with the law ; it’s just petty robbery most days, but when they come to him asking if he wants to join, they say they need a driver, he can’t say no. he’s gone his whole life without being wanted, so he takes the first chance he can when sometimes says differently. 

          junior year comes around, and the boy just turned seventeen. he’s still with the same group of friends, and landon’s become the stereotypical stoner. comes to class high, sits in the back, and his teachers are still amazed at how landon manages to scrape by in his classes. it’s almost time for him to start applying to colleges ( as if he’s ever planned to go ) and he laughs in the counselor’s face when she says that he’s no future ivy league student but she knows he would have a good chance of getting into auburn ; what type of backhanded compliment is that for a seventeen year old boy? he leaves the office, throwing away the brochure for auburn as he leaves. 

          this is the year where landon knows he’s on the wrong path, but he doesn’t care. his friends and him wreak havoc on their town at night in a way of graffiti and breaking shit in alleyways. but one day as they’re walking down the street, his friends attempt at a robbery of a small convenience store ( the old guy was far too scary for these amateurs. ) too bad they were too dumb and didn’t even attempt to cover their faces and the store’s camera catches their faces. and after school the next day, the cops pull up arresting all of them. it’s quite a scene, and landon makes sure to smile for his peers’ cameras as he’s getting pushed into the back of a cop car. hours go by, and landon’s told that he’s free to go, considering the fact they didn’t steal anything and they are all minors. when he gets home, the old foster parents he had been staying tell him they’ve had enough of his bullshit. that they’ve tried to get through to him but he’s a lost cause. landon takes this as them basically pushing him out of the house, and he knows that the next day he’ll be whisked away to another home until he’s phased out of the system. with a quick and heartless ‘ fuck you ’ to the couple, landon stomps out of the door and to the closest bus stop with only a backpack full of clothes. after, he’s made his way to new york with the small amount of cash that he had saved for a rainy day ; he’s learned through his years that he always needs an escape plan. but just because he has an escape plan doesn’t mean he has a damn clue about what to do after the fact. 

          eventually, he figures out a way to survive. not many places hire high school drop-outs so he gets a job waiting tables. it’s not a lot, but it’s something. he’s staying in a halfway house that he found, and while there are plenty of unsavory characters around, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. he saves up just enough to get a shitty apartment that’s more like a closet, but it’ll have to do for now.

          he’s twenty now, and he’s working probably close to three jobs a week just to make ends meet. landon is many things, but the one thing that his friends in new york can’t call him is lazy. his friends are a slightly older than the twenty year old, and he never really knows what type of jobs they do, but he knows whatever they do pays well. they have the nicest clothes and shoes, and he tries his best to not get jealous of them. one day, his friends ask him about his driving, and he laughs, saying they’re in new york and he grew up poor; why the hell would he need a car? but they explain to him that that wasn’t the question, and landon’s confused. he’s never told them about fucking around as a high schooler with his friends, doing donuts in the grassy fields of his hometown. when he tells them that he’s pretty decent, there’s a special kind of glint in his friend’s eye. 

          a year later, and twenty-one year old landon is in the middle of a crime-ring. did he mean to? absolutely not, but it beats having to wait tables with rude customers anyday. he’s moved out of the closet that his landlord had marketed as an apartment and moves in with his friends. and for once, landon is happy. he has friends that want to be around him ( granted they’re all criminals but at least they’re bonding! ) his clothes are nice, and he drives a decent car on a daily basis. for the time-being, he forgets what it’s like to constantly be worried about everything being taken away from you. and then it becomes too late. 

          it’s a STUPID easy job, the words of nolan ring through his head over and over again as his torso is flush against the hood of the cop car. it had happened so fast, all landon had to do was just drive and he obviously couldn’t do that very well considering him and his friends are all going to be thrown in jail because of his own stupidity. he can’t look at his friends, knowing that it is his fault that it happened. it’s almost like he blacks out before he finds himself handcuffed in front of a detective wanting to know more information about who he and his friends work for. and even though it’s his fault for getting everyone into this mess, he’s not a snitch. at all his questions, landon sits across, silent with a stupid smug grin across his features. his only demands have been a lawyer. did law and order lie to him? he’s always thought they couldn’t interrogate him until a lawyer was present. and soon, someone walks in and the detective leaves and he can only assume it’s a lawyer. 

          but it isn’t. it’s some instructor from a school called gallagher and all landon does is laugh. he doesn’t take it seriously for the first couple of moments, but the eerie stare of the instructor shuts him up enough. at first, he refuses. he argues, what about his friends? what about their freedom? surely, there’s room for them at the school too, right? but the solemn shake of the instructor’s head gives landon all the answers he needs. he decides to go with them, the charges dropped and he’s free, but he isn’t happy about bailing on his friends. 

          at gallagher, twenty-two year old landon is majoring in driver’s ed. it’s such a lame name in his eyes for such an exciting major, but he loves it here ( despite always acting like he’s too cool for it ). he’s known to be a little shit once again, but landon makes it fun. for once, landon feels like he has a home.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Pick Your Poison

Switch AU

So this had to happen eventually. And when I really look at the events that have occurred in the normal universe so far, I realized it had to happen sooner rather than later. I absolutely do not want to say anything more. It would be best if it stayed a surprise *evil laughter* But I will say that it involves Schneep and Jackie, and that’s all you’re getting ;)

More of this AU found here

“Henrik, what are you doing back there?”

Schneep pulled off his headphones, stuffing them back in his backpack. God, he really had to be more aware of his surroundings when back here. He managed to zip up his pack just as Jennifer, his coworker, poked her head into the back room. “Just listening to music.”

“Well, alright. It’s almost lunch, though, so you might want to get out here.” Jennifer disappeared again.

“Understood.” Schneep pushed his backpack behind the nearest table. They should really get lockers in the back room. Not only would it be convenient, not only would it prevent random thefts, but it would save him a lot of worrying. He didn’t like thinking about people finding the police scanner he hid in his backpack and listened to on break. That would be awkward at best, and a giveaway of his secret vigilante identity at worst. He sighed. He was basically having to juggle two full-time jobs, and sometimes it was more stressful than he thought it was worth.

But then again, if he didn’t have a job he wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment and superhero gear. He kept that in mind as he pulled on his apron and headed back out into the front of the coffee shop. Jennifer, manning the percolators, glanced at him. “Hey. So before you do any sort of work, I think someone just walked in who’d want to see you.” She grinned, and jerked her head towards the entrance.

“Hmm? Oh.” Schneep smiled. He approached the counter, waving down the pair who’d just entered. “Hello Anti. And William, nice to see you. What brings you here?”

“Came to see if they’d fired you yet,” Anti said, grinning.

“Ha! No such luck, I am afraid.”

William jumped, red curls bouncing as he gripped the edge of the counter. “Hi Uncle Hen!”

“Also I need a hot chocolate,” Anti added. “Small size. And a medium ristretto.”

“And a cake pop?” William asked hopefully.

“Alright, fine,” Anti agreed. “But just for today.”

“Ah, I’d think you only use me for my connections, Anti,” Schneep muttered with a smile, writing down the order on two cups. He turned to leave, but found Jennifer interrupting him, taking the cups with a smile and a glance. “Oh! Okay, I suppose we can talk.”

“Nice.” Anti looked down at Will. “Hey, kid? Want to go find a comfy seat while we wait?”

“Yeah!” Will jumped up one more time before scurrying off.

“So, what is the occasion?” Schneep asked.

“Well, Will just started spring term, so I promised him a treat if he got through the first week,” Anti said. “And it’s all cold outside, so hot chocolate made sense.”

“Is unusually snowy, I will say that,” Schneep agreed. “It was very cold walking to the bus earlier.”

“Yeah, I know. Nearest stop’s like fifteen minutes away from here, I have no idea how you manage to do that every day in winter, it totally sucked today.”

“I have been colder.” Schneep shrugged. “Do you have any plans today?”

“Nothing new. Maybe some more recording.” Anti suddenly perked up. “Oh. Hey, how are you liking that game I told you to play?”

Schneep froze, suddenly glaring at him. “I hate you.”

“Whaaaat? Why?” Anti was trying very hard not to laugh.

“I knew something was up from the very beginning. I thought, wow, it is odd that he told me to play this since it’s very cute, there must be some dark twist inside it. But then!” Schneep threw a hand in the air. “I got too attached to them! And I was not expecting the entire second half! The game just decided to kill everyone and it was terrible!”

Anti was giggling now. “But you had fun, right?”

“It was...interesting,” Schneep conceded. “I can see why it is your favorite, it does all those programming things. And it was honestly scary.”

“Great! Now you can check out the videos I did on it,” Anti said cheerfully. “Who do you like best?”

Schneep rolled his eyes. “Actually, I liked Monika. She was very...fascinating. I wondered a lot about her.”

“That’s fair. I like Natsuki.”

“Really? I think you have more in common with Yuri.”

“You’re only saying that because of the knives.” Anti hesitated for a second. “I do...relate to her the most. But that doesn’t make her personality interesting.”

“I am never playing any game you tell me to play ever again,” Schneep mumbled. “I am never trusting you ever.”

“When should you ever trust me?” Anti grinned. “Anyway, do you have any plans today? Since you asked about mine.”

Schneep looked at the clock mounted on the wall. “Well, my shift ends in two and a half hours, and after I get home Jackie is coming over.”

“Oh? And you didn’t invite me. Wait!” Anti held up a finger, thinking. “This is that thing you told me about last week. Batman movies?”

Schneep nodded. “If you have changed your mind you are free to come. We plan on ordering pizza.”

“Hmm, tempting. But I think I’ll pass.”

“If you insist.” Schneep glanced away. “Hey, I think Jennifer has your order now.”

“Oh? So she does.” Anti looked over. “You like her?”

“She is friendly, yes,” Schneep said slowly. 

“Good, I don’t need to be a bi—a jerk about anything.” Anti grinned again. “Heh, there are kids here. Anyway, text you later?”

“Sure. I will see you.”

———————

Two hours and forty-five minutes later, Schneep walked outside to find dusk waiting for him. He scowled vaguely at the sky. It was barely five o’clock. Stupid winter nights. The sun hadn’t set yet, but he had a hunch it would if he waited around for an hour. But he had no intention of waiting that long. He zipped up his coat, adjusted his scarf, made sure his backpack was secure on his shoulders, and started walking.

Fifteen minutes. It was only fifteen minutes walking to the bus stop. What could happen in fifteen minutes? Apparently a lot. About halfway to the stop, a pair of hands reached out and pulled Schneep into the gap between two buildings.

Schneep cried out, but found a hand covering his mouth. Instincts kicked in, and he stomped down hard on the assailant’s foot, simultaneously jabbing his elbow backwards. The hands released, and he gasped, looking around. There was no one in sight. Or at least, no one he could see in the shadows. He shook his head, and started towards the street, only for his vision to waver and blur. Between one blink and the next, he was suddenly staring at a wall. He turned around, looking back towards the street, only for the same thing to happen again.

He groaned. Not again. “Okay, where are you?” he said, spinning around. “I know it’s you.”

Silence. And then the slight sound of laughter. “Clever boy.” The world suddenly shifted its view as the illusions faded away. Distorter was leaning against one of the building walls by the entrance to the street. Still smiling. Still dripping blood from his eyes and the wound on his head. “You know, there’s one good thing about you. It’s so easy to make fake things in your mind. Because of your...” He twirled a finger beside his head, the sign for cuckoo. “You know?”

Schneep flinched, then growled. “You gang up on me when I am walking home? Really? Were you getting tired of having an even playing ground?” All the past times he’d fought Distorter had been at night, when he was out on patrol and had his suit and gear with him. But now? He didn’t have anything. And that made him wary.

“I like how you make everything about you. And let’s be honest, were you really doing such a good job before?” Distorter pushed away from the wall, reaching above his head and stretching backwards. And kept bending backwards, until several cracks echoed through the alleyway. Schneep took a few steps backwards. Distorter laughed, righting himself. “Don’t worry, this’ll only take a few minutes.”

“No thank you.” Schneep turned around and ran, intending to make it to the other end of the alley and out onto the street. But he only got a few steps in before he ran into something solid with a smack! He stumbled backwards, rubbing his forehead as the world shifted again, showing how he’d been running right into a wall.

Distorter laughed. “Wow, I wish I had a video of that. I could play it in a loop.”

“Motherfucker,” Schneep said, glaring at him.

“Oh, I know. Now stay still.” Distorter took one step backwards, and then launched forwards.

Schneep yelled in surprise, ducking to the ground and rolling out of the way before he even knew what he was doing. Distorter crashed against the wall, but didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, just pushing away for a second attack. Schneep scrambled to his feet, backing up while keeping one hand against the wall to make sure it was really there. The moment Distorter was in range he shot out with a fist, connecting solidly with his face. Distorter stumbled back, then laughed. He suddenly dropped to the ground like a ragdoll. Schneep found his feet being pulled out from under him. He cried out as he fell to the ground, barely managing to catch himself before he could hit the back of his head against the cement.

“Wow, not so tough without your lightning gadgets, are you?” Distorter’s nails were digging into his shoulder, blood dripping on Schneep’s face from the creature’s eyes and nose. “Now stay. Still.”

Schneep managed to fling an arm out, fist connecting with the side of Distorter’s head, snapping it to the left. “If you want to kill me, I will not go down without fighting.”

Distorter recovered easily, grin unphased. “Who said I wanted you dead? Well, yet.”

Schneep opened his mouth to retort, but instead suddenly gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his midsection. For a moment, it felt like a strong punch, and then he felt wet leaking.

“Have fun with that.” And between one blink and the next, Distorter seemed to disappear.

Schneep climbed into a sitting position, pressing a hand to the painful spot. Did...did Distorter just stab him? That...was different. He couldn’t remember that creature ever using a knife before. Slowly, with the help of the nearby wall, he stood up and walked back out onto the street. He looked down. It wasn’t bleeding too badly. And he’d been stabbed before, and this didn’t feel like the worst wound he’d had. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He unwound the scarf from around his neck, unzipped his coat—no, this was his only winter coat, and it had just been ruined!—and pressed the balled-up scarf to the wound. He had a first aid kit at home. He could probably get there quickly, provided the bus was on time.

Wait, the bus! Schneep reached into his pocket with one hand, withdrawing his phone and checking the time. Oh, good, he should still be able to get to the stop before it came. He replaced his phone, zipped his coat again, and started off.

Part of him thought it was ridiculous that he wasn’t calling anyone. But it didn’t seem too bad. Nothing he hadn’t survived before. Maybe he could just handle it by himself, without needing to bother anyone.

———————

And once he got back to the apartment, it seemed like it wasn’t anything to worry about. The wound was small, probably from a small blade, and he managed to bandage it up well enough. He hadn’t lost a lot of blood, and he got to the bus stop without much difficulty. Despite the searing pain, it was probably fine.

Probably.

“Okay, I know I am bullshitting myself,” Schneep said, glaring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “But Jackie is coming over, and if it really starts to cause problems, he is a doctor. He can help.” Though he’d feel terrible about ruining what was supposed to be a fun night. “It will be fine, I promise.” His reflection didn’t answer any of his ramblings.

He’d arrived back at his apartment at about 5:40. Jackie arrived twenty minutes later, at six. “Okay, so we’re good to go all night,” he said the moment Schneep opened the door. “I don’t have a shift tomorrow, so we can stay up late and watch all three.”

“I doubt you’d make it that long,” Schneep muttered fondly, standing aside to let Jackie in.

“Hey! Not everyone’s a night owl.” Jackie breezed past him, then paused, standing in the center of the studio apartment. “It’s kind of hot in here, did you turn up the thermostat?”

“Oh, yes. Because it is cold outside.” It didn’t feel too hot to him. He was actually a little chilly, slightly shivering as he closed the apartment door.

“Huh. Won’t the landlord charge you for that?”

“I do not think so.”

“If you say so.” Jackie pulled off his hoodie, draping it over the back of the nearest chair. “Still hot, though.”

Schneep decided to change the subject. “So are we ordering food now, or do we wait until we actually have the movie set up?”

“We can set it up first.” Jackie flopped onto the sofa.

“Alright. Don’t hurry to help or anything.”

Jackie hesitated. “Did you want me to, or...?”

“No, it was joke, don’t worry. I will get it.” Schneep joined Jackie over in the living room section of the apartment. He bent down to turn on the TV, but when he stood up, a dagger of pain from his wound suddenly flared. He hissed, hand instinctively pressing against it.

Jackie sat up straight. “What was that?”

“Is nothing, I just...pulled a muscle at work today,” Schneep said, coming up with something on the spot.

“You work at a coffee shop,” Jackie stated.

“Well, yes, but sometimes we have to carry boxes and bags of ingredients from storage to the front.” That wasn’t a lie, at least.

“And that would result in...you pulling a muscle. In your stomach. And not your back or your knees, which is where that would usually happen.” Jackie raised an eyebrow.

“...yes,” Schneep said after a long pause.

“Okay, what happened?”

Schneep sighed. He should’ve known better than to hide anything from Jackie, He had a sort of sixth sense when it came to something being wrong with his friends. “It is nothing to worry about. I got pulled into an alleyway walking home.”

“Pulled into a what? Like a mugging?”

“Yes, like that.” Schneep pressed his hand against the wound again. “The man had a knife, and he used it.”

“You’ve been stabbed?!” Jackie shot to his feet.

“I took care of it!” Schneep hurried to say. “It was not bad!” 

“There’s no such thing as a ‘not bad’ stabbing! Here, sit down, I want to look at it.”

Schneep sighed. Well, at least this’ll be quick. Then Jackie could stop worrying and the two of them could relax. Schneep sat down on the couch. “Happy?”

“Yes. Now pull up your shirt so I can look at it.” Jackie waited patiently while Schneep did so. “You actually did a really good job wrapping. Unfortunately, I have to undo your hard work.” Jackie sat down next to him, slowly unwinding the white bandages.

Schneep tried to stay very still, despite the way the pain would surge every time he shifted weight. This was actually worse than the walk home. How was that possible? Maybe shock, or something like that. After a moment of silence, Jackie placed his hand against Schneep’s stomach. “Ah!” Schneep instinctively pulled down his shirt. “Jackie, your hands are cold, do not do that!”

“Okay, that’s weird,” Jackie said, not responding to what Schneep said. “Lean forward.” He put his hand against Schneep’s forehead. “Um...I don’t think it’s my hands that are cold, I think it’s you.” He bit his lip. “I think...did you lose a lot of blood?”

“Not a lot. There was not a lot of bleeding, and I had something pressed against it a lot of the time.”

“Weird...” Jackie leaned back, thinking. “You’re cold, and also you look like you’re sweating a bit. Huh...did you put any disinfectant on the wound?”

“...ah.” Schneep tried not to squirm.

Jackie sighed. “Who knows what was on that knife? I keep telling you—well, never mind now. I know you have some. First aid kit’s in the bathroom, right?” Schneep nodded. “Wait here, I’ll get it.” And with that, Jackie stood up and left.

Schneep had nothing to do but sit. The day had started off so well, now this was happening. He sighed, blinking around at his surroundings. He was tired...really tired, all of a sudden. He leaned back against the couch, now staring up at the ceiling. Was it...was it spinning?

“Alright, I’m back! I have the...are you okay?”

“What?” Schneep rolled his head over to look at Jackie. “Yes, I am just...I just got very tired very quickly.”

“That’s...just suddenly?” Jackie’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t lose too much blood?”

“Yes, I am sure.” Schneep blinked again. For a moment, everything was swimming.

“...okay.” Jackie sat down next to him. “I’m gonna put this on the stab wound, now. It might sting a little. Okay?”

Schneep didn’t answer.

“Hey, Volt, buddy?” Jackie patted the side of Schneep’s face. “I need to know that you understand.”

After a moment of silence, Schneep said, “The walls are melting.”

“Wh-what?” Jackie asked, taken aback.

“They are melting.” Schneep’s eyes fluttered. “I think I am seeing things. That happens, but this time I know it is happening, so that is a start.”

“...I’m just going to take a look at the wound real quick.” Jackie lifted up Schneep’s shirt. His eyes widened, and he looked back between the wound and Schneep’s face. “I’m...going to take a pulse, okay?” He pressed two fingers against Schneep’s neck. Then he withdrew them sharply. “Holy—” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing a number.

“What is wrong?” Schneep asked. He tried to focus on Jackie’s face, but it was blurry, like it was hidden behind a pane of frosted glass.

“I-I don’t know what was on that knife, but there was definitely something,” Jackie said, pressing the phone to his ear. “It’s doing something to you, we need to get emergency—what do you mean no service?!” He pulled the phone away.

“The lines nearby have been down for a while,” Schneep mumbled. “There was a storm...though I remember they said that it looked like...sie wurden sabotiert...”

“Okay, I don’t know what that last part was.” Jackie stood up, hurrying to the door. “I can drive you to the hospital, I—what?!” He pulled on the doorknob, then pushed on it. “I-it won’t open!” Giving up on getting it open, Jackie started pounding on the door. “Hey! Hello? The door’s stuck, someone let us out! It’s an emergency!”

“Jackie...” Schneep looked back up at the ceiling. It was dripping into his eyes. How was it melting when it was so cold? “You are doctor, you can fix...”

“I’m not trained for-for poison!” Jackie stammered.

“You can try...or maybe we can go out the window, it is not too far.”

“I can’t go out the window!” Jackie had come back to stand next to Schneep at some point, now standing over him and chewing on his hair nervously. “I-I can try? But I gotta keep trying to get someone, too!”

“Mm...you do that.” Schneep paused. “Jackie...I should tell you. The one who stabbed me...was not just some random thief...it was...lächelnde Mann. Distort...” He closed his eyes.

“It was Dis—?! No no no no, Volt, Henrik, stay awake!” Jackie leaned over him, shaking him slightly, only to get no response. “Oh, fuck fuck fucking fuck.” He took his pulse once again, finding it just as rapid as before. “Okay. Okay, Jackie, you can figure this out. You can do this.” He took a step back, lifting up Schneep’s shirt to expose the stab wound once again. It was yellow around the edges, the blood darker than it should be. “Okay, uh. I have no idea what that is. I can find out, I guess?”

Jackie picked up his phone, opening a window to the Internet and typing as quickly as possible. Luckily he knew several websites that knew what they were talking about, so he didn’t have to search through shady sites. “‘Get to the hospital as quickly as possible’—yes, I know, I can’t do that. Fuck. Okay.” He pushed Schneep to the side, lying him down. Schneep’s eyelids fluttered. “Cleaning is always a good place to start. Okay.”

He ran to the kitchenette, throwing open the cupboards until he found the largest cup possible. Turning on the sink, he filled it with water. Warm or cold? God, if he knew what was in the wound, he’d know which, but he had to settle for lukewarm and hope that would work. He grabbed a wash rag and dashed back to the sofa as quickly as possible, kneeling nearby. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but this is going to sting.”

As soon as the water touched his skin, Schneep’s eyes flew open and he screamed, flailing. “I know, I know!” Jackie said. “Just, please! Stay still! Stay—hey!” He grabbed Schneep’s arm with one hand to prevent him from whacking him in the face. “Please, you have to let me do this.”

Jackie reached out, ready to...to...what was he doing? He shook his head, clearing away the sudden fog. He had to clean the wound, that was a good starting place.

It wasn’t easy, but he managed it. As soon as he was sure he’d done as good a job as possible, he checked Schneep’s pulse again. It was slower than before, but...but it was also slower than it should be. “No no no no no,” he muttered, a constant stream while he tried to look up what else to do. “There has to be a way, I have to...” he trailed off. What...? His head turned, and his hand reached out, fingers exploring into the open bleeding—

Schneep screamed again, and Jackie jerked backwards. What the hell?! What had he just been doing?! “No no no, I-I’m sorry, it’s okay!” It wasn’t okay, but that didn’t matter now.  He stood up, once again running to the door, but it was just as unmovable as it had been before. He pounded on it once...he...his head tilted to the side, his arm dropping. Was someone laughing nearby?

No! Jackie shook his head. He had to—there was something on his face. Something warm and wet, and coming from his eyes. He reached up, fingers coming away red. “Shit, no, fuck!” He looked around the apartment, not finding anything. Well, did it matter? His friend was dying!

There had to be something else he could do! He rushed back to Schneep’s side, checking his pulse once again. His breathing was slower, a wet, rattling sound coming from inside his throat. Fuck, this had happened so fast. Jackie tilted his head back, keeping his mouth open. What else could he do? The disinfectant? It was probably better than nothing. Jackie grabbed the small tin, unscrewing the lid. He dabbed his fingers inside, then tried to gently apply it to the surface around the wound as gently as possible. Schneep didn’t protest beyond a slight twitching. There was red dripping on the sofa in between them; he knew it was coming from his eyes.

“Come on, come on, please please please.” Once more, he checked the pulse. He checked the...the...

He couldn’t find it.

“No. No no no no no no—” He tried to find it by pressing fingers against his wrist. Then by pressing his palm against his chest. He still couldn’t find anything. “No, Henrik, please don’t—wake up! Please, wake up!” The world seemed leeched of its color, everything in gray. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, anything. He was shaking him and getting no response. “Henrik, no! No, my friend!”

There was nothing, nothing, nothing but gray distortion.

———————

A steady, slow beeping was coming from somewhere. Everything felt heavy, especially his eyelids. Yet he managed to open them somehow, staring uncomprehendingly at his surroundings, until something cleared and he recognized that he was in a hospital room somewhere.

After what felt like forever, he rolled his head to the side, catching sight of a woman in nurse’s scrubs. She was watching him. He closed his eyes again...

———————

The beeping was back, as well as a low murmuring. He could hear two voices.

“So how are you related to him again?”

“I’m not, he’s my neighbor.”

“And you found him how?”

“Well, I heard shouting from his apartment, so I was a little worried. It went away after a while, but I thought I would go check anyway. And when I did, his door was wide open, and so I peeked inside and I...”

———————

More voices, muffled like they were through a wall. A few sounded familiar...

“Fuck you, he’s our friend and you’re going to let us see him!”

“Sir, if you would please calm down—”

“Fuck calm! I have a hunting knife in my backpack that I’d think you’d like to see!”

“Now, really, Anti, that’s going too far.”

“Yea, a bit. Y’wouldn’ want t’get arrested.”

“There’s nothing illegal about knives. Guns, maybe, but knives?”

“I’m sure threatening a doctor has some consequences. They could throw us out.”

“Mnngh...”

———————

He opened his eyes again, looking around at the same hospital room. Everything felt...floaty. Like he could bounce away at any minute. But he was awake. He tried to sit up, fell back, and looked around. The same nurse from the last time he looked around was still there. She watched him for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Everyone was worried.”

“Wh...happened?” He asked.

“Well, we’re not too sure. You were found unconscious, and wounded. I personally don’t know too many details, but they had to hurry.”

The stab wound. Schneep tried to bolt upright as soon as he remembered, but just ended up falling down again and knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

“Oh, be careful. You could tear open the stitches.” The nurse paused. “You know...there are some friends of yours waiting outside. I could let them in, if you want.” Once he nodded, she stood from her chair, opened the door, and poked her head outside. “He’s awake,” she said. And then the door opened wide as three people came in.

“Henrik, what the fuck dude?!” Anti demanded. “In the span of a few hours since I’d seen you, you manage to almost die?!”

Schneep smiled at him. He couldn’t remember the last time Anti had called him by his first name, he must’ve been really worried.

Marvin poked his head around Anti. “I don’ t’ink our group should be makin’ a habit of visiting others in the hospital,” he said, smiling.

“Had no say in th’matter,” Schneep mumbled.

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked.

Schneep paused for a long moment, trying to find the right words. “Bad,” he settled on.

“Yeah, I bet,” Anti muttered. “I did some research on what the doctor said got to you, and it’s pretty nasty. I mean, you were out for a night and half the day.” He looked over at the nurse. “Hey, can we get some privacy here?”

The nurse pursed her lips. “It’s against policy.”

“Sh’s fine,” Schneep said. “‘M just...happy you all’re here...” His eyes darted around the room. Something was wrong...“Where’s Jackie?”

The three boys looked at each other. “I thought he came to see you earlier,” JJ said. “Do either of you two know?”

“I was just assumin’ he was somewhere in the hospital,” Marvin said. “Because he works here, I t’ought...”

“He doesn’t have a shift today,” Anti said. “Wait! I texted him.” Anti dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone and checking his messages. His brows furrowed. “And...he hasn’t even seen it, let alone replied yet.”

Schneep tried to sit up one more time, finally managing to prop himself against the pillows. “He was with me...”

“Wait, he was with you when you got stabbed?” JJ asked, eyes wide.

“No, later, when...everything started...I blacked out...did he bring me here?”

“No, some neighbor lady of yours checked on you, and lucky she did,” Anti said. “She...didn’t mention anyone else.”

Schneep made a strangled sort of gasp, covering his mouth. “He’s gone.”

The others looked around, expressions confused and worried. In the background, the nurse opened the door and left, standing outside.

“We don’t know that,” JJ hurried to say.

“Jems, I don’ t’ink...” Marvin sat down in the nearest chair, realizing the truth before anyone else. “Henrik, d’you mean...?”

“He poisoned me,” Schneep whispered. “He knew Jackie would try to fix it...” It had all been a trap. A plan, of some sorts. How long had Distorter been planning this? Since he first met them all? “So he could confuse him, and take him, and if I died...well, two birds, one stone.”

The others said nothing. There was nothing to say, in the face of such knowledge. It weighed heavy on the air of that room.

And somewhere across the city, a man dressed in gray was smiling, perfectly delighted.

[mathewmurdocks]

Tag Game: Dig a Little Deeper

tagged by @impractical-matters​ 🥰

do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? black pen

would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? this is hard. i really like both. they have significantly different feels but i love both of them.

if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? god, i could list a shit ton

do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? sweeeeeet teaaaaaa

what was your favorite book as a child? because of winn-dixie

do you prefer baths or showers? showers

if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? bro, idfk. i wanted to be a mermaid forever, but maybe like a sorcerer or some shit idk.

paper or electronic books? certain books need to be paper, but electronic is more convenient. 

what is your favorite item of clothing? sweatshirt

do you like your name? yeah, its fine lol would you like to change it? i used to when i was younger but its just a name i guess. i wouldn’t even know what to change it to.

who is a mentor to you? idk, i’ve had people help me in my life but never one person over a long period of time. can i say myself? idk if that makes sense but it’s my answer.

would you like to be famous? yes and no. i always wanted to be an actor and/or writer but never the celebrity side of it. just known so that my work is known and appreciated.

are you a restless sleeper? Y E S. i have stories...insane ones. who the fuck moves the whole ass bed or punches the wall in their sleep? ME wtf

do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? i can be, but it’s not a constant state

which element best represents you? sometimes i’m water and sometimes i’m fire which is actually pretty accurate considering the walking paradox i am

who do you want to be closer to? plenty of people. well, i guess everyone cause im not entirely close with anyone. no one really knows me or wants to know me. might be my fault, might not. idk

do you miss someone at the moment? my grandparents and i always have this nagging feeling like im missing someone but i don’t know who they are.

tell us about an early childhood memory. pretending to fall asleep on a car ride home so my dad would carry me inside and to my bed while holding onto my special blanket with my name on it.

what is the strangest thing you have eaten?  idfk. maybe sand or dirt? im a pretty picky eater so i don’t try a lot of things.

what are you most thankful for? that i have things others don’t and may never get. i have food, clothes, a home, and other luxuries some people can’t afford.

do you like spicy food? N O

have you ever met someone famous? yeah, but nobody too famous. i met a bunch of rock/screamo bands (bless the fall, bmth, mayday parade, we the kings, 3OH!3, we came as romans, of mice and men, crown the empire, the devil wears prada-a couple of the band memebers actually took me to their merch tent and gave me water when i almost passed out from a heat stroke-, pierce the veil, echosmith, a couple others but i can’t recall), some popular christian artists, luke benward, ezra miller, and shailene woodley. i feel like i’ve met others but can’t think of them 🤷🏻‍♀️

do you keep a diary or journal? i used to. i had accumulated like 100 over the years and i still have some of them. i don’t write in one anymore, but sometimes if i’ll vent by writing a note in my phone or something just so i can release somehow.

do you prefer to use pen or pencil? pen

what is your star sign? aquaruis 

do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? crunchy

what would you want your legacy to be? that i was a good person who tried and cared

do you like reading? yes, but its really hard with my adhd

how do you show someone you love them? acts. i do things for them by going above and beyond.

do you like ice in your drinks? only at restaurants or fountain drinks

what are you afraid of? being alone and unwanted

what is your favorite scent? idk, but i don’t like strong or floral scents. anything calm and natural

do you address older people by their name or surname? depends on who they are. the older i get the less i do it i think

if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? i would live simply and comfortably. nothing too extravagant. i mean, there are some things i would go all out on, like a car but having a home thats nice and big enough for me, not like a mansion or anything. i’d love to travel too, but not site see but to live in a place for like a year or two and experience it.

do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? ocean

what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? unless i knew or saw who dropped it, just pocket it cause what else are you gonna do?

have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yes and yes

what is one thing you would want to teach your children? to be accepting and open minded.

if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? i already have some and want a bunch more

what can you hear now? music from my headphone in my left ear and my mom typing on her computer in my right ear

where do you feel the safest? in my room with music in my headphones when its dark

what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? my depression, anxiety, paranoia, and dependency on others.

if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? roman empire

what is your most used emoji? 😂

describe yourself using one word. paradox

what do you regret the most? i don’t know if i really have any significant regrets. anything worth regretting would change who i am and i like who i am for the most part.

last movie you saw? spenser confidential

last tv show you watched? hunters. wait, thats a lie. the librarians but im rewatching it with my mom

invent a word and its meaning. uhm, idk. i’ve done this before but i can’t remember any of them.

 if you wanna do this feel free! 

[honeymoonjin]

pine - jin x reader

A/N: friends to lovers requested by a sweet anon. 1.5k of fluff.

“…and ever since then, I haven’t managed to find a single girl I’m interested in.”

“Oh, poor Casanova’s having a dry spell, huh?”

You laugh heartily as Jin reaches over and shoves you in the shoulder with his slipper-clad foot. The two of you were currently in his bedroom as you normally were on a Thursday night, tangled up in blankets, only half paying attention to the episode of the cooking show he had pulled up on Netflix.

It had become tradition; Thursday was the only night the both of you had free, and while you used to go out and party with whoever would join you, now it was always just you two, leaning into each other to watch Netflix on his laptop, sharing a set of headphones, and talking the night away.

For a long time, it was the best time of your week. You loved Jin, he was by far your closest friend, and it felt comfortable and easy spending time with him. It was still the best time of your week now, but the reason had definitely changed.

Sometime over this past autumn, you had started seeing him in a different light. Although the process of falling in love with him had been vague and hazy and uncontrollable, you remember well the exact moment that change begun.

You had just broken up with your boyfriend of two and a half years, and you were inconsolable, sobbing noisily as Jin drove you back to his house. He had made you some warm food and a hot drink and held you in his arms for hours, gently humming sweet melodies and promising you it was going to be okay. That moment was special, but it was actually the day after that you felt something different towards him. You had cheered up enough to function like a proper human being again, and you wanted to thank Jin, so while he was at work, you baked him a cake.

The cake was disgusting and more like chewy bread, but the soft smile and that glow in his eyes had made you feel all kinds of ways. Since then it had been completely undeniable.

You were brought back to attention by Jin’s boisterous scoffing. “At least it’s temporary. When was the last time you brought back anyone to the apartment? Not since Dipshit McGee.”

You scowl at him, but he’s right. Since you broke up with your ex, over six months ago, you hadn’t really made any attempts to get back out there. Maybe it was selfish but having Jin be the most important man in your life felt like as close to dating as you would get. When Jin didn’t have a string of ladies on hold, he spent more time with you than your ex ever did when you were together. You had grown used to pretending to yourself that there was something more.

“It’s ‘cause unlike you, I have standards, thank you very much.”

“Excuse me? If you’re implying my booty calls are anything less than dignified, I won’t stand for it!”

“You’re sitting,” you point out dryly.

“Exactly.” You try not to crack a grin at his smug look of victory. “Anyway, I’m being serious, Y/n. I want you to be happy, and it seems like you haven’t been that happy recently.”

You don’t like the look of pity he’s giving you. “What, because my pussy’s on standby, I must be miserable?”

“That’s not what I-”

“Maybe I don’t want other men,” you barrel on, not even registering your words until it’s too late.

“Other men?” he questions slowly. “Are you seeing someone, and you haven’t told me?”

You scoff pettily. “No, Jin. Forget about it.”

“Come on, chickie, you can tell me. We don’t keep secrets from each other, you and I.”

You have to drop your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s stupid, and I don’t want to mess things up.”

Instead of answering straight away, Jin shuffles around on his bed until he’s facing you and reaches a hand out to lift your chin. You fight it, but he’s stronger than you, and eventually you’re locked in to his warm brown eyes, which are narrowed slightly in concern. “Y/n, do you like me?”

Your lip trembles in the shock of being caught out and your cheeks go scarlet. “No.”

He quirks his lip a little, eyes glinting with mischief, and fuck if it isn’t driving you insane right now. “You’re lying to me. You do like me!”

You unsuccessfully try to wrestle your chin out of his grip and settle for looking at his perfect cheeks, his perfect jawline, his perfect nose, anything except his cheeky gaze. “I do not.”

His eyes search your face, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment, letting yourself go lax in his hold. He chuckles softly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You pout angrily. “Fine, whatever.”

When he talks again, his voice is right by your ear, and the thumb on your chin starts to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. “Me too.”

You suck in a breath, but before you get much air, his divine lips are capturing yours in the sweetest kiss you’ve ever experienced.

He moves across you like he has all in the time in the world, and he wants to spend every second of it kissing you. His languid, open-mouthed movements have you weak and leaning hopelessly forward, until he has to catch you with his other arm, holding your shoulder and slipping the other hand around the back of your neck to keep you upright. He chuckles into your mouth as you let out a needy whimper and takes the opportunity of your parted lips to dip his tongue in, not even going past your teeth, just swiping over the inside seam of your lip and nibbling on it teasingly.

Your head feels light with a euphoria just as much as from a lack of breath, but you can’t bear to part. In the end, it’s him that leaves one last bruising kiss before pulling back.

Your eyes flutter back open dizzily, and a smile graces your face at how fucked-out he looks, with swollen lips, tousled hair and blown pupils. You imagine you look much the same, but desire is a sexy look on him.

He licks his lips and his eyes slowly clear as he blinks them. He grins at you and shakes his head in mock annoyance. “I cannot believe I’ve been hitting on you for three months now and you still haven’t noticed. For a moment there I actually thought you didn’t like me!”

You’re stunned, and your brain is still catching up with itself. “What? You…you like me?”

He stops the act and stares at you in confusion. “Seriously. You are one oblivious girl, Y/n. I tried everything: I slept exclusively with girls that looked like you, then I thought maybe that was offensive, so I cut myself off completely. I make breakfast for you every morning, I pay for your meals when we eat out. And nothing. I felt like I was going crazy.”

“I… oh my god, I really am stupid,” you marvel, “this whole time I thought that I was just reading too much into things because I had started to like you. Why didn’t you say something?”

He shrugged. “Same reason as you, probably. What if you really didn’t see me that way and I ruined the friendship? Honestly, even me asking you just now if you liked me was a shot in the dark. I’m just glad it paid off.”

You smile at him in glee, unable to resist the temptation to lean forward and place another kiss on his lips, already addicted to the taste and feel of him. “Well, now neither of us needs to worry about a dry spell. How very convenient of us to have the hots for each other.”

He tucks his arms under yours and rests them along your back, pushing you closer to him. “Please don’t ever call this ‘convenient’ again. It’s not very romantic. Try ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ next time, yeah?”

You rest your chin on his chest. “What is this exactly, then? Us, I mean.”

“Best friends that live together, make out and have sex occasionally,” he suggests cheekily.

You grin back. “Only occasionally? Well, okay, then.”

“Often.”

You hum out a laugh. “That’s a bit wordy, wouldn’t you say? I think boyfriend and girlfriend has a much better ring to it.”

Your eyes close automatically as he plants kisses over your face, each eyelid, each cheek, your nose, and finally a sweet one on your waiting lips. He keeps your lips pressed lightly together as he speaks. “As long as the sex is still often.”

[hanhan156]

Gymmstein

I have no other explanations for this than @tillscars brilliant post. Thanks for the idea.

Richard had promised to Schneider and Ollie that he’d attend to a yoga class with them at their gym shift. It ends up though that listening to a calm woman voice from speakers and trying to concentrate on his own breathing aren’t really his things after all.

Fortunately, Paul will make it sure that his fellow guitarist’s gym time doesn’t end up being as dull as he thought it would have been at first.

“Inhale 1…2…3...4…exhale 1…2…3…4,” an exaggerated calm woman voice from the recording repeated. From the three men - sitting on the freezing floor, in impossible positions - one of them wasn’t really convinced.

“Imagine that you are in your dream place, in your sanctuary. You remain calm, everything is well. As you proceed, you start to inhale 1…2…3…4…”

Fuck this, how could it be anyhow possible to remain calm while my legs are hurting like hell. Richard had been attending to Ollie’s and Schneider’s stupid yoga class just for fun, because he didn’t know what else he could do at the gym. Now it seemed like it was a really bad idea in the end. The cross-legged position wasn’t really the most convenient and if they had to lay down on the mattress, he would end up - without a question - falling asleep. He didn’t really get why his fellow bandmembers praised this so much.

“It’s gonna be lots of fun, you’ll definitely like it! Besides, it will help you with all the stress, I assure you,” Schneider had tried to convince their lead guitarist before.

Richard opened his eyes a bit, just to make sure that his friends were still concentrating on listening to the artificial, tranquil voice from the speakers. At the same time, he was wondering why on earth he signed up for this in the first place.

“Next, we will do an upward dog pose, but first, we have to be prepared for it. Let your inner spiritual energy flow freely and inhale 1…2…3…4…”

Sorry lady, but I’m not in the same lengths right now with you and your spiritual energy. Richard wanted to get out of here as swiftly as he could. He made sure that the others were concentrating on their breathing and without saying anything, he sneaked out of the yoga room, trying to close the door softly so he wouldn’t arise the attention of his fellow bandmembers. He didn’t really want to explain to Ollie and Schneider - the devoted yoga enthusiasts - why he wanted to escape in the middle of the exercise they considered so precious.

An upward dog position… he giggled himself still while wandering around the gym. The name of the position reminded him of something entirely different physical activity than yoga.

In the darkest possible corner, he saw Till who was elbowing a punching bag, yelling loudly every time he hit. Their singer was fond of boxing and weightlifting and did them every time they were at the gym – and of course, loyal to his own style, without bothering to put any clothes on. At first, they all had laughed at their singer’s urge to exercise naked, but in the end, nobody questioned it anymore. In some grotesque way, semipublic nudity seemed like his natural form. Richard didn’t want to participate in the naked exercise though, so he tried to avoid the eager boxer as best as he could. Till had tried to convince Richard that it was actually much more comfortable to exercise naked - and his reasoning for it was that you didn’t have to bother about the sweaty clothing or anything else. “It makes you to feel so free,” he had said. Still, Richard preferred to do laundry than to train nude with their singer. He wasn’t so much of a “nature’s child” as his friend after all.

While proceeding in the gym, Richard saw Flake on his infamous treadmill, deeply in his own thoughts. Nobody would ever think that a man so slim would enjoy his time at the gym - and to be precise, he wasn’t fond of weightlifting or any other “manly” stuff. Instead, he always put his favorite gadget to the maximum speed and jumped right into it when it was on the run. Richard really didn’t see what the point of walking towards nowhere was, but the keyboardist - with his headphones now tightly on his ears - seemed to have a time of his life with the mindless jogging. Flake had told that in his free time he liked to listen to classical music opposite to their own band’s heavy tunes. Richard could now only hear their keyboardist’s humming which resembled a tiny bit of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and seeing him moving his hands like a conductor at the same time. Flake was so deeply concentrated on his own fun that Richard couldn’t help it but to think, would his bandmate be sucked into a black hole if he continued his exercise for too long.

Finally - after all the marveling of his bandmates’ gym activities - Richard reached his destination, the dressing room. He sat down on a bench and looked at the clock on the wall - still one hour left from their shift. I’m definitely not going back to yoga anymore, so how on earth I could pass all this time left.

He was moving around restlessly, scrolling his phone occasionally, but there wasn’t actually anything interesting there. Eventually, he sighed and put the phone away and tried his best to find out something to do. Richard wasn’t really a person who could spend an hour in his own thoughts, doing nothing, so this was quite a challenging situation for him.

Right in front of where he was standing was an entire wall covered by a huge mirror - it was technically impossible to avoid staring at yourself from it. Richard scrutinized his familiar features with a concerned look on his face. Somehow, aging was bothering him a bit sometimes. It was tough to admit that he wasn’t so young anymore and it was more and more visible from his looks as well. He felt like with every passing year he got 5 new wrinkles as a birthday gift, and he had noticed that he had to dye his hair more often to hide the natural greying color. Nobody had ever mentioned anything, and it didn’t really matter, but yet, somehow, getting old concerned him now and then. But more than his face, Richard was worried about getting a bit of weight. He turned sideways and patted his belly - it was difficult for himself to admit that it was now more visible than 10 years ago when he wasn’t feeling uneasy at all about performing topless. But the merciless truth was that every single living organism on this planet had to age, and unfortunately, he wasn’t an exception. It was totally understandable that when being at his 50’s, it was completely fine to prefer relaxing to arduous exercising - especially when they were touring or recording.

While thoughts fixed on his own image Richard didn’t see there was a figure approaching behind him from the shadows.

“BOO!” a familiar voice shouted, squeezing him from the sides at the same time.

Richard startled so much that he almost hit himself to the lockers. “Heilige Scheisse, you scared me shitless,” he said, turning to face Paul, who almost had given him an untimely heart attack. “Don’t ever do that again…”

The other man smirked. He was happy when he had gotten his friend off guard. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist while you looked so concentrated.” And hot, he almost wanted to add, but managed to control it in the end. “I’m surprised to see you here, because I thought you were supposed to attend to the yoga with Schneider and Ollie.”

Richard shrugged his shoulders, looking a bit awkward. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t really my thing after all.”

“I see. Honestly, I would have fallen asleep if I was there. I really don’t get the fuss around it.”

Suddenly, the “upward dog pose” reappeared into Richard’s mind, making him to chuckle slightly. “Yeah, it was pretty dull to be honest. But may I ask, why are you here, lurking in the shadows?” He could only wonder how long his fellow guitarist had been stalking his intimate moment.

“I’m just bored as well. Besides, I try to avoid nude Till as best as I can.”

They both laughed. “Yeah, I definitely don’t want to be involved in his naked weightlifting anyhow,” Richard agreed.

Paul was being a bit restless. Like his friend, he liked to have some action. “So, what are you up to? We still have some time left and to be honest, I really don’t want to just goof around. Now when we have a chance, it would be nice to do some exercising.”

“Do you have anything in your mind?” the other man asked.

They were thinking for a while when Paul came up with something. “Hey, I have an idea which both of us will definitely like!”

“…okay, which is?” Hopefully it’s not Zumba or anything else as horrifying.

“I want to challenge you!” Paul almost yelled, boyish excitement in his voice.

Richard wasn’t as eager as his friend about this “challenge”. “What kind of…challenge are you talking about?”

“We could do some simple exercises like push-ups and stuff, and in the end, the one who has been doing more, is the winner. It’s gonna be so much fun, you’ll definitely like it!”

I’ve heard that somewhere before. Richard couldn’t make up anything better, so he was unable to say no even though he was a bit suspicious. “Okay, maybe we could at least give it a try.”

Paul clapped his hands together, still smirking like a lunatic. Seriously, will that grin ever fade away from his face? “Wunderbar! Let’s do it then.”

Richard looked at his slightly terrified face one last time from the mirror before he followed Paul back to the gym.

On purpose, they took the farthest possible corner from the naked Till, who was now proceeding with weightlifting, with even louder yelling than before. The disturbing soundtrack of the gym was now a mixture of Till’s screams and the jingling of his barbell.

Paul brought them a couple of mattresses. “Okay, I’ll start,” he said, looking for something from his phone at the same time. “We’ll start by doing planks and the winner is the one who can stay longer.”

“Okay... But can you at least tell me, what does the winner of this challenge of yours get in the end?”

“Don’t bother yourself too much about it, let’s just have some fun now,” Paul answered, with a bit of teasing in his tone.

Richard couldn’t think about the vague answer for very long when unexpectedly, the other guitarist put some too familiar tunes from his phone. “Seriously, from all of the songs from the world you chose Du hast? Haven’t we listened to our own music enough already?”

“In my opinion, it suits to gym very well, or do you prefer listening to Till’s mellifluous training vocalizations instead?”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, but only this time. I’ll choose the next one.”

They put a timer on from Richard’s phone and there they were, two world-famous Rammstein guitarists doing planks, Du hast playing loud in the background. It was difficult for Richard to concentrate while he was giggling so much.

“Imagine if somebody would break in and would see what we are doing…”

“Would be pretty interesting indeed,” Paul answered without noting the other man’s comment so much. Planking was serious business for him.

“Then they’d think that we are so proud of ourselves that we even listen to our own music in our free time.” Richard could already see the trashy headlines in his head: “Click here for the pictures of the two cocky Rammstein cuties, training together, listening to their infamous song, Du hast!! Can’t they just get enough of themselves already?”

The planking seemed to continue forever and forever, and Richard felt like his arms and legs were already trembling while Paul was remaining so still, that permanent smirk on his face. His eyes were fixed on Richard’s all the time.

“FUCK!!” the other man finally yelled and to Paul’s joy, collapsed back to the mattress.

“So, seems like we have the first winner then,” Richard could hear the triumphant voice in front of him. He didn’t even bother to look at Paul’s face because he was so annoyed to even hear the pride of his friend.  “1-0 for me.”

“Yeah, thanks for letting me know, like I wouldn’t have figured it out anyway else,” Richard said, bitterness in his voice. He hated to lose.

“Just wanted to remind you. But, I’m so gentle that I allow you to choose the next exercise and music, as I promised.”

Even though losing troubled him a tiny bit, Richard tried not to think about it too much - at least he was happy that they could change from their own music finally. Till was still yelling in the background so he was trying to be as quick as he could and in no time, they had their next soundtrack: some random upbeat 80’s music. In Richard’s opinion, the cheesy retro melodies suited the situation much better than their own songs - or maybe he had just too many memories from their way too familiar pieces.

“We’ll do push-ups.” He seriously hoped that Paul wouldn’t be staring at him again all the time.

With the energetic music playing in the background they were once again exercising face to face. Richard was wondering could it be possible that Paul had come even closer to him this time. The disturbing gaze was still there, but Richard tried not to bother it too much - he really wanted to win this time. He had always been good at doing push-ups so he had high hopes for this. In the end, Richard was actually much faster than his friend who seemed to be focused on entirely different things than into their dumb little exercise.

When the time finally ran out, they both laid down back to the mattress, heads almost clashing to each other. “So, I guess we have 1-1 now,” Richard announced, trying to sound proud through his heavy panting.

“At least for now. Next one, crunches,” Paul answered quickly, ready to move to the other set. I’m not gonna lose to you, verdammt.

The timer went on once again, but it was impossible for Paul to do anything when his training partner started a constant chanting: “Tier, Fleisch, Tier, Fleisch, Tier…”

“Reesh, what the hell…” Paul cracked up completely and was unable to rise from the ground when his abs hurt so much already from laughter.

“Shut up, it helps me to concentrate and to count how many I’ve done already. Fleisch, Tier…” Richard continued. He was pleased that he was able to disturb Paul who had made him to feel so uneasy earlier.

Paul tried to gather himself and continued doing crunches very slowly. “It’s just a bit disturbing when you’re repeating ‘animal’ and ‘flesh’ so loud. Seriously…”

“So, whose idea was this whole ‘challenge thing’ in the first place? Tier, Fleisch, Tier…”

“Okay, okay…”

Paul tried his best to catch up but failed in the end. It seemed liked even though how goofy it had sounded, the chanting had been effective.

“2-1”, Richard said and smirked.

Now I really have to improve my performance, Paul decided.

They continued with squats, step-ups and several little exercises, and in the end, they had a tie. Paul didn’t want to admit out loud that he was exhausted as hell, but having the same points as his friend released the adrenaline boost inside him which he really needed now.

“Okay, you’ll choose the last one,” Richard said. He was so pleased with winning this round - he had barely managed to do wall sit just a couple of seconds longer than his companion.

“Let’s do side plank.”

For some reason unknown, Richard had a bad feeling about this, but still, he was too stubborn to say no or to suggest anything else.

It was evident that Paul had practiced this - actually, he didn’t seem to have any difficulties at all, while Richard tried to hide his hard time. He was barely able to hold himself still. Richard assured himself that after this “Paul’s oh-so-magnificent challenge” he would never, ever do planks anymore. And what was irritating him the most was that his old wrist problem was reminding of itself just now, at the worst possible moment.

“Scheisse…” Richard mumbled himself, looking at the floor while the other guitarist had his eyes once again fixed on his. Paul sent him a blow kiss and said in a disgusting sweet tone: “Wie geht’s, mein Liebling?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They were holding there for a while, when suddenly Richard couldn’t take it anymore. He really didn’t want to injure his wrist so maybe he just had to allow Paul to win - but only for this time.

He collapsed to the mattress and closed his eyes, swearing silently himself. Damn it…

When Paul realized what had just happened, he stood up immediately, and started to jump around the other man, cheering at the same time: “YESSSSSS, WHO’S THE WINNER, HUH??? SAY IT OUT LOUD, WHO’S THE WINNER!!”

“Okay, okay, I know you’re proud as hell of yourself, but you won only because I didn’t want to break my wrist. It was just pure luck. Don’t forget that I was much faster doing push-ups and crunches than you.”

Paul looked at the other man, turning his head to the side and acting like he was suddenly pouting when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted from his friend. “Are you not gonna even congratulate me?”

Richard sighed. “Congratulations then. What do you want now?” He was a bit concerned about what Paul wanted as his prize, but he tried to soothe himself. Well, if I can get out of this by buying him a crate of beer or offering him a dinner, it shouldn’t be so bad after all.

But Paul didn’t want to go easy on his friend when he had - at least once in this lifetime - won. Usually, being the second guitarist, Paul didn’t get the full attention in their concerts, so this time, he wanted to enjoy his victory the fullest.

Richard couldn’t see his friend’s mischievous look when he approached him so quickly and started to tickle him. Paul was enjoying the fact that his friend couldn’t stand tickling and used it ruthlessly.

“Fuck you...this is…unfair…” Richard tried to sound annoyed, but his laughter - which almost resembled screaming already - didn’t really sound convincing. His friend’s misery made Paul to continue his action even harder.

Their weird combat - a mixture of wrestling and tickling - seemed to last forever. They had suddenly transformed into two 5-year-old kids again, fighting over a piece of candy or something as silly. Richard was just hoping that Paul would get fed up with this soon. At least they both were tired as hell already.

When it little by little started to look like their stupid combat would finally come to its end, to Richard’s utter surprise, Paul somehow managed to get on top of him, even though being a lot smaller man. He pushed Richard’s arms against the mattress and sat on his belly with his full weight. Technically, it was impossible for Richard to move anywhere - he was completely locked right there. He could now only lay under the other man, arms spread, being in a submissive position – it was quite disturbing.

They both were still panting, and Richard couldn’t really get what his friend was up to now. They just kept staring at each other before Richard managed to say, totally confused: “…is there something wrong with my face or what’s going on?”

“Absolutely nothing is wrong with your face.”

“…then why are you looking at me like that? And it would be nice to be able to move.”

“That’s out of question, I’m afraid.”

“And why, may I ask?”

“Because I won, don’t you remember? It means that I can decide now, what I want as my prize,” Paul whispered right into the other man’s ear, nibbling it at the same time. “And you’d definitely make a nice concubine, I have to say.”

Richard gulped loudly. He didn’t want to admit that this was actually pretty enjoyable, so he just kept acting like he was still annoyed. “…okay Paul, enough jokes already, what on earth do you want now?”

There was a brief silent moment while Richard couldn’t read anything from Paul’s face - he was being almost in a dream-like state. Paul leaned forward, and without any prior warning, he pressed his lips on Richard’s. The first touch was tender, like testing how does the kissing feel, but as they carried on, their slight smooching went into a more passionate level – and Paul was still pressing his friend down to the mattress. Richard really wouldn’t have wanted to admit that being submissive to Paul was actually nice for a change, even though it had been a bit awkward at first. The only thing he could do now was to answer to the kisses as best as he could. So, if this is what you want, then you should have it, damn it. The world around turned invisible for a while, like there was only they now.

Unfortunately, the magical moment didn’t have a chance to last for very long.

They didn’t at first hear the awkward cough behind them which was followed by a voice so familiar: “Es tut mir wirklich Leit, mein Herren.”

Paul got so scared when he heard the sarcastic voice that he immediately stood up, and stared at their intruder completely horrified, cheeks in flames. Richard was still lying on the floor - he froze completely so he didn’t even manage to sit up. It was a bit similar feeling when their teacher had busted him smoking in the schoolyard in elementary school decades ago.

Schneider was laughing when he saw the absurd sight in front of him. Behind him was Ollie who didn’t say anything, but looked slightly amused as well. “You two remind me of my kids when I once caught them stealing from a cookie jar which I had hidden in our kitchen cupboard.” He moved his eyes to the man lying still on the floor. “So, this was why you escaped from our yoga class, Reesh?”

Now finally, Richard managed to sit up at least. “Well…I…”

Schneider shook his head and gave a laugh. He couldn’t be even mad; this was way too hilarious to be true. “Just wanted to remind you that the gym shift ends in 5 minutes, and we have to start soon our rehearsals, but maybe it doesn’t matter so much if you were already planning to stay here and continue your…stuff.”

“…a…ha” Paul managed to form a voice from his mouth which resembled distantly a word.

Very soon, Flake and Till - still naked - joined them. “Was ist denn los?” Flake looked seriously concerned because he didn’t have any clue what was going on. Till had an instinct what was this all about and he didn’t say anything - just smiled himself. “And why is Reesh on the floor, do you need help or something?” their keyboardist asked.

Richard gulped and answered: “Alles ist gut…” Then he finally stood up, acting like everything was completely normal even though he felt a bit dizzy. “Yeah, we should…go.”

To his fortune, Till and Flake didn’t dare to ask more - instead, they hurried to the dressing room. Schneider gave the one last look to the busted men before he joined his other bandmates with Ollie.

Paul offered his hand to Richard’s. They both looked at each other and tried to hold back their laughter. Finally, they managed to proceed and follow the others, hand in hand. “Okay, that was probably…the most interesting gym time of my life, I have to admit,” Richard whispered to his friend.

“Anytime you’re bored, just ask from me and we’ll figure out something,” Paul said and winked. They stopped right there and looked at each other with utter adoration. Richard turned his head to the side, eyes fixed on Paul’s. He opened his mouth and was about to say something, but to his harm, he was interrupted by Schneider from the dressing room’s door: “C’mon you disgusting lovebirds, hurry up! Rehearsals are starting so we’d better keep going. We don’t have the whole day!”

They both started to run - to upset the others was the last thing they wanted now after the embarrassing episode. They had a lot of explaining to do later for each other and for their bandmates, but right now, they didn’t really mind about it so much.

“I’ll tell you later,” Richard said to Paul and pressed a light kiss on his forehead.

Schneider saw the act from the distance and shook his head, mumbling himself: “Those two are impossible…”