#good lord get ray some brown contacts guys

[edwardnebula]

Have another today, the Rose household :)

[hotwings0203]

Hehehe I'm back! Loll these ideas of how Muslim Dabi would fluster you have been burning my brainnn and I totally blame you😫✋

Anyways so omg okay, I could totally see Muslim Dabi doing that thing where the guy pulls the girls dupatta to make her fall back into his chest pull as the girl turns to walk away, and he would like put his hand on your lower back or waist and lean down by your ear and just whisper about how you look so pretty today and how he can't wait to see you as his bride

Also! I could totally see him like playing with your churiyan or bangles and just touching your hand and wrist, tangling his fingers with yours and just teasing you about how your hands fit his so well, how he can't wait to put a wedding ring on you

Oh! If your churiyan get stuck to his clothes, he would totally milk that situation by standing just a little to close while you try to untangle your churiyan from his clothes while trying to not combust from blushing cuz he is leaning or staring down and just gazing at you with a smirk on his face, and teasing you about clearly you don't wanna be away from him or something smh

Also! Say if you are getting your mehndi (henna) done for eid or something, he would totally use this as a way to get closer to you, like you can't use your hands while waiting for your mehndi to dry! So he's just helping you by brushing your hair away from your face, or just guiding you with a hand on your lower back so you don't bump into someone and ruin your pretty mehndi, or sitting too close to you with his arm is draped behind you while your waiting for your henna to dry. Lmao he would totally wait for the henna to dry and when he sees how dark and rich the colour his, hes like see, look how much I love you (cuz you know the darker the colour, the more your husband loves you) and you are trying so hard to not just get all flustered and just can't help looking away all shy and blushy, while he looks at you in a soft but like still dominant way

Speaking of helping you! Lmao he would totally use this as an excuse to feed you food, and he would totally use this as an opportunity to touch your face and neck, just touching your lips, and looking at you with lust filled eyes, and telling you how he bets your lips will taste so sweet when he kisses you, and make such pretty noises when you're underneath him, and you're just like Dabi! Stop, people are gonna hear! You're gonna get us in trouble! But he just chuckes cuz you look so cute when you're glaring at him with a blush adoring your cheeks

Also he would totally find a way to make you feed him food cuz that's what good wifes do! lmfao like okay say your poor soul ends up getting engaged to him, and its your mehndi or something, and you know how sometimes they will make the bride feed the groom sweets like laddu or gulab jamun, brooo he would so sexual about it, he would totally hold your wrist and guide it to feed him, and maintain eye contact the whole time, and his lips linger on your finger tips for just a little too long, and of course everyone is just gonna be like omg! Wow look at how much he is in love with her! So lucky! While you're sitting there trying not to die from how fast and hard your heart is beating and your cheeks are on fire

Also! Imagine having to drive with him omggg like imagine your family is in the process of you guys getting engaged and are like going out for dinner or a picnic or something, and Dabi would be like oh! How about me and her drive together and use this as a chance to get to know each other better, and of course the parents are gonna be like yes! Like wow look at the initiative he's taking to get to know his future wife, so now you are stuck in a car with him. He would totally pull that move where when he is reversing he puts his arm behind your seat and he would totally "help" you by reaching across to help put your seat belt on, and just lingers by your face, his lips too close to your lips, and you just blushing and looking demurly at him through your lashes, and omg he would totally put his hand on your tigh and just relish in the way you gasp and clench them and blush as you are like Dabi! This isn't appropriate, the parents will find out! Lmaooo Also! Adding to the previous point, he would totally make your feed him food while he drives, and licks or nick your finger tips when you go to feed him, and just relish in the way you blush and squeak Dabi! And he would just he like damn I can't help that I love the way my name sounds on your lips

Also when you guys married hes gonna be soooo horny, and possessive for you cuz know it's all halal, and would just be like I wanna get you pregnant asap, cuz come on we gotta give our parents cute little grandkids and its your job as his wife to please him lmfao And like of course you're gonna be all flustered and stuff, but also he is good in bed, soooooo aianaokHgqNaah

And also like yeah Muslim Dabi is a total hooligan, but he's not dumb, homeboy is smart and gets good grades, and is gonna be graduating with a masters and is gonna work under his dad and all that, and his family is famous and well liked by the community, so he's gonna have like no issues with getting the reader to marry him, and her family is obviously gonna be so happy! Like wow what a good marriage proposal from such a prestigious and good family! And of course the Todoroki's are gonna be so happy to have a sweet and kind and pure daughter in law, who is gonna take care of their troublesome son, little do they know that yeah maybe Dabi loves you, but he's also gonna ruin you LMFAOO RIPPP

……….

hotwings.exe. has stopped working.

HELP ME

LORD HAVE FUCKING MERCYYYYYYYYY MY GAWD

WHY CANT HE BE REAL

WHY CANT I HAVE A MUSLIM SCUMMY YET LOVING TOUYA PLEASE GOD WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN😭😭😭😭🔫

Dude it would be just like in Om Shaanti Om, maybe he sees you at chaand raat looking for churiyan or cute kurtis for Eid when he decides to approach you. He KNOWS how skittish you are but he’s had his eye on you for a while…yet you’re so damn evasive. You’re like a little mouse, jumping at the slightest brush of his body against yours.

He sees you admiring the jingle of the bangles, the way the sequins cast reflecting rays against your own hands and decides to play with his future wifey a bit.

He sidles up behind you and reaches around your body to hold your preoccupied hand in his.

“I can’t wait for the day you look at me with such admiration,” he breaths against your ear, and just as he expected, you jump about a foot in the air.

You clutch your chest and look at him warily.

“Dabi! Don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He lowers his lids and makes sure you’re watching as his gaze travels from your feet up your body to your face, settling on not so modest areas.

Your face flushed furiously when he rasps, “‘You sayin’ I make your heart race, meri jaan?”

He almost got kicked in the balls that day. But he wouldn’t say that he minds if it means his sacred scrotum has any contact with you

At another time he finds you waiting in line to get your mehndi done. You’re sitting patiently and poised as you flip through some sample design pages, and he slips in like next to you (and might I add, he received no backlash for cutting from the terrifying glare he gave to the people behind him, practically dating them to voice their displeasure).

“Whatcha lookin’ at guriya (doll)?”

You snap your head towards him with mild surprise, somehow already knowing he was going to find you. Wordlessly, you hand him the pages and he takes it from your hand, letting his fingers interlace with yours.

You try pulling it back, nervously looking around and giving him a pleasing look to let go, but he merely holds your gaze, his eyes filled with such tenderness that you had never seen before.

“Let them see. People should know you’re gonna belong to me anyways,” he groans quietly when your lips part in shock.

“Stop messing with me,” you murmur and turn your face. He won’t have any of it though, he follows your turning head and grabs a wrist, holding it up to his lips and kissing it, trailing his mouth from your palm to your single digits.

“‘This the hand you’re gonna get done?”

Your body lights on fire as you feel his tongue swirl around your index, the taste of you causing his dick to swell under his kameez.

He squeezes your wrist lightly and prompts you for an answer. You nod slightly, and he chuckles lowly.

“I’ll make sure to put a ring on this hand then. And you better wear it with your mehndi as well when you wrap your hand around my co-“

“Next person please!”

You leap out of your seat, face ablaze and fuming indignantly as you hear him laugh behind you.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn and barely meet his eye.

“What?”

“Get the design on page three. It’ll suit you.”

You get the design on page three.

He leaves at one point and you think he’s gone for good, when he comes back 19 minutes later, ladoos and kheer loaded in his hands, a brown paper bag in between his teeth.

Your eyes widen as he seats himself next to you, and the girl doing your hand gives you a knowing smirk when you frantically shake your head for him to leave.

But nope. Instead, he meticulously takes time to form little bites of mixed sweets and hand feeds them to you, much to your utter embarrassment.

You can’t help it though! You’re so hungry, and the food is actually delicious. It’s totally not cuz of the way he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world, like you’re the only one whose allowed to see this soft side of the eldest Todoroki…

It’s much later down the line when you two get engaged. It takes Dabi argument after argument of persuading his parents to host multiple iftaars just for your family. He doesn’t even want Hawks to be with him when you come over, he just wants you all to himself.

When you enter his house his mouth waters at seeing your shalwar. You barely lift your lashes to look at him, but he’s basically ogling at you.

At one point of you coming over Dabi points out to the adults that you’ve never had a full house tour before. Your parents permit him to show you around, and he uses this opportunity to isolate you in a distant part of the house, right in his room.

The second you hesitantly step in, holding a light dupatta over your head for a show of modesty, he’s closing the door and locking it behind him. You turn at the sound of the click to see him smirking and crossing his arms over as he leans against the door.

You frown. “Open the door Dabi, if either of our parents see us here alone they’re gonna call off the nikkah.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about wanting to be with me, huh?”

“Dabi,” you say exasperatedly, already reaching around him for the handle.

But he uses this momentum to yank your arm towards him and spin you around, pinning you to the door with his chest pressed against your back.

It’s silent save for both of your ragged breaths.

You’re terrified, you’ve never had a boy touch you like this and you don’t know what to do except gasp when he presses his boner against your ass.

“You wanna know something?” He whispers into your ear.

You shake your trembling head, and he softly kisses the side of your cheek.

“I’ve never really been one to follow protocol, but I won’t touch you too much while we’re engaged. I’ll be gentle with you and let you get used to how you’re going to be trained under me.”

You inhale softly and flinch when his hands travel up your sides, letting the edges of your dress ride up and flash a bit of your stomach.

“But after our wedding…just know that I’ll take you however I want. I won’t be as nice with letting you go. Even if you think you can escape by having our wedding night in either yours or my parents’ house, I’ll make sure everyone knows how my name sounds when it’s screaming from your lips.”

He rubs against you, your body trapped between a rock and a literal hard place.

You think he’s gonna feel up your chest from the way he hooks his chin over your shoulder and peers down at your breasts, but he just lightly licks a stripe up your neck and cooes when you whimper.

“Please, Dabi, not like this. Just-just wait a bit.”

“How can I wait when you taste so fucking good though,” he growls and tightens his grip around you, ripping another gasp from your throat.

But then, he stops. He lets you go and spins you around to face him.

You look up at him and he strokes one hand over the column of your neck.

Unmarked, begging for any kind of sign of ownership.

“But don’t get too excited. I still have to see how you cook me biryani and butter chicken if you want this dick,” he smirks and breaks the tension in the air when he senses you’re overstimulated, misty eyed and scrunched eyebrows a dead giveaway for him.

You swat his arm and scowl at his crudeness.

“Okay you’ve had your fun now, you cretin-“

“Cretin?” His eyes widen mockingly and he takes a step towards you, placing a hand on his chest in faux hurt.

You back up and he takes another step forwards.

“That’s a big girl word to use. It’s a pretty mean one too, you’re so mean to your husband-to-be, Y/N.” He pouts and you can’t help the disbelieving snort that comes out of you. As if he were that sensitive.

“You think our kids will be as mean as you?”

“What?!” You sputter.

He cocks his head and studies you.

“Or do you think they’ll be freakishly handsome like me?”

“Get your head out of your ass, you’re actually unbelievable.”

“Maybe if I put you in a mating press they’ll come out nicer…but I heard back shots make girls more submissive, so maybe that’ll transfer to one of ‘em.”

“Who said we’re having any kids?”

“What, you think I’m gonna let you be on birth control? Naw janoo, that pussys all mine. ‘M gonna cum in it whenever i want.”

And before you feel like you’re going to pass out, you hear a knock from the door, Natsuo calling out for both of you to join them for dinner.

Dabi looks at the door, then you.

“Ladies first,” he smirks and opens the door.

[steepgan]

t. oikawa - the balcony

in which you befriend your neighbor during quarantine. gn reader.

To put it briefly, your neighbor across from you will not be quiet.

Everyone is cooped up in their respective apartments due to a pandemic, and this guy decides to have a party every goddamn day. You can hear his music when you’re in the shower, and sometimes you don’t want to listen to Firework by Katy Perry. Sometimes you want to listen to One Direction.

Your apartment is situated oddly. The neighbor you speak of is not across the hall from you (if he was, you might have already filed a complaint). Instead, your apartment is given a balcony that directly faces the neighbor in question’s balcony.

Below the balconies is a small street that has passerbyers and chatting people that are looking for a shortcut. You get the occasional street cat that yowls in the trash cans at night and fights with raccoons. They are far more pleasant company than your neighbor.

In other words, the loud neighbor lives in a different apartment complex from you.

Every day is a new horror. Once, there was nonstop playing of Lorde’s Melodrama album (to which you were so concerned to the point of finding your neighbor a therapist), and the next day, there were strange trumpet noises (where did this guy find a trumpet during Covid?)

After the third week of the neighbor’s incessant noise, you take it upon yourself to ask your neighbors if they, too, are perturbed by the loudness. To this day, they do not mind the noise.

You’ll get used to it, they say. We’re neighbors. Sometimes we make noises, too, [L/N].

The noises are seemingly getting louder and louder. You swear you hear a chainsaw at some point. Not even your poor headphones can cancel out the sound. You wonder how your neighbors are faring with this sort of noise. 

You hope that they are annoyed as you are this time. If they are, you can laugh at their face and ask who is getting used to the noise now. However, you suck up all your annoyance and pretend that you don’t mind the noise.

Then one day, you snap.

You open your balcony doors and march to the railing that is only a few feet away from your noisy neighbor’s balcony. You clear your throat and try to yell. 

“Dude!” you shout. “Hello? Mind turning it down a bit?”

There is no response.

“Hey, man!” you persist. “Turn it down! No one wants to listen to the Backstreet Boys at 6 A.M. in the morning!”

The neighbor who lives beside you opens his balcony door. He sleepily pokes his head through and says, “I, actually, find it quite ni—”

“Go back to bed, Jorge,” you snap. “No one cares.”

Jorge retreats back into his apartment.

Grumbling, you go into your apartment as well. If shouting will not catch the neighbor’s attention, you need to find something tangible. You need something that will physically grab your neighbor’s stupid attention away from the Backstreet Boys.

You pick up the nearest object that you could find and return to your balcony. Without further ado, you throw it over. You aim at your neighbor’s balcony window, hoping to alert the neighbor without completely shattering his apartment and getting sued.

As luck would have it, the infamous neighbor himself opens the balcony door just then. He is rubbing the back of his neck with his lazy brown locks of hair falling here and there, perfectly framing his face.

Unfortunately, you do not manage to get a good look at his actual feature, as the object you chose to throw at him hits him smack in the face. He is taken aback by the sudden force and staggers before falling backward.

You wince.

He groans.

You let out a meek voice. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

The man stands back up, and you flinch as if he rises from the dead. He holds the object in hand and stares at you. He seems a little groggy (rightfully so) as he asks, “did you just throw a purse at me?”

He speaks the truth. You chose to throw a purse at him.

Your neighbor looks more put together than you thought. He maintains a broad, athletic frame and stands at a decent height enough to impress. He leans against his balcony door, and the rising sun peeks over the apartment buildings, shining generously on his face.

The rays illuminated his cheekbones and rich, brown eyes. He tilts his head, his skin pulled smooth over his jaw down to his collarbone. He looks otherworldly. Ethereal, even. It must be golden hour, you quickly convince yourself. It’s just the golden hour.

“It was empty,” you say, not helping your case. You scramble closer to the railing. “Sorry! Super sorry. I just needed to get your attention.”

“You most certainly got it,” the neighbor says, amused. You hope he is not too annoyed. Most of your pent-up annoyance is melted away because you threw a bag at him. “Do you want this back or—”

“Of course I want it back,” you say. “I was just wondering if you could turn down the music a bit. You play it all the time, and it’s disturbing me.”

The neighbor gives you a blank stare. It’s as if he’s never been asked this before. He sheepishly admits, “I’ve never been asked this before.”

Bingo.

“Oh, well, do you mind being a little considerate?” you ask. “And give my bag back?”

“Sorry,” the neighbor says. “I’ll be sure to turn the volume down.”

He does not intend to throw the bag over the balcony as you foolishly did. Instead, he reaches out with the bag in his hand. Your bag dangles over the street, precariously close to falling down.

You stretch over the railing. Your fingers briefly brush your neighbor’s. Warmth crawls up your cheeks, but you blame it on the fact that you’ve kept human contact to a minimum ever since quarantine started.

He gives you the bag, and you hold it in your arms. You are tempted to crack a joke about Covid and ask if he washes his hands regularly, but your neighbor seems like the type of man who knows how to take care of himself properly.

“Say, do you have a party or something every day?” you ask. “You play it so loud, so I’m just wondering if you hold small kickbacks.”

“Every day?” the man goes. He shakes his head and laughs while crossing his arms. “Nah. I try to follow Covid procedures as well as I can. Oh, but, umm, I do have the occasional party to myself.”

“You throw parties by yourself?”

“Why do you look and sound so disappointed?”

True to his word, the neighbor keeps his music down for you to concentrate. You are extremely grateful, as you can now listen to your own television and study for your online classes.

Although you hear the faint drumming beat of music sometimes, you decide that it was far worse last time he blasted his music all over the place so you let it slide. There are a few neighbors who pass you in the hall and thank you as well. 

Unable to rest one night, you walk out onto your balcony for some fresh air. After this, you will finally go to bed at 4 A.M. in the morning. In the dim light of the lanterns, you can see a silhouette of a person on your neighbor’s balcony.

Oh, if it isn’t your good neighbor!

(Well, who else would be on your neighbor’s balcony?)

He is on his phone while leaning on the railing. The bright screen reflects on his face, showing his concentration. His athletic build is slightly hunched over his phone as he hums leisurely, scrolling innocently.

“So,” you say, “do you usually stay up until 4 A.M.?”

The man, slightly startled, looks up from his phone and sees you. He cracks a grin that’s more brilliant than the fact that his house plants are still alive despite you never seeing him water them. 

“Well, hello, there,” the neighbor says. “I actually get up at 4 A.M.”

You still. “You what.”

“I get up at 4 A.M.”

“No, I don’t think I heard you right. Mind repeating it again?”

“I get up at 4 A.M.,” the man repeats, and although he has said it three times already, your mind cannot process it. While you’re going to bed at 4 A.M., this guy was waking up at 4 A.M. How insane! “I’m an athlete, so I wake up and use an elliptical. Feeling sluggish isn’t good for me.”

It was then you catch his name: Toru Oikawa of Club Athletico San Juan. You can’t bother to be gobsmacked as you do not catch up with sports news, but you keep in touch with old friends who are still involved in sports. You believe that they’ve mentioned the San Juan club a few times.

“Jesus Christ,” you say.

“No, not Jesus,” Oikawa pipes up, “although I’ve been told about the similarities.”

“I’m [F/N] [L/N],” you offer. “It’s very nice to meet you, Toru Oikawa.”

“Likewise,” he says, “unless you're throwing a purse at me.”

“Again, I’m super sorry—”

You and he talk for some time about anything that comes to mind. You ask him to show you a few of his volleyball videos, as you want to see how he plays. You assume that because of social distancing, he’s been unable to practice.

He obtains your phone number and sends you a few videos with a snarky little comment at the bottom, which you choose to ignore. You watch his videos, and you realize that this Oikawa guy is actually really good.

It seems your friendship with him is on feebly, baby-doe legs. There are days where you do not talk to him at all, as you are more of a night owl and Oikawa is the physical embodiment of carpe diem. There are some days where you and he do not let a single hour slip by without texting each other (you must admit that Oikawa is very entertaining).

Your neighbors tease you, constantly reminding you of your previous hatred for Oikawa (back when you did not know what his name was). You tell them that it was perfectly sensible to be mad, especially since he had been so loud, but they wave you off with a smirk of their faces you’d gladly wipe off. You can tell that they think you like Toru Oikawa.

You tell them that the day Oikawa calls you enchanting and thinks of you as a goddess is the day you might consider him as something more than a neighbor friend.

A month and a half flies by, and you are dawdling on your balcony with Oikawa. He is sitting with his legs swinging back and forth through the rails of the railing. His volleyball hands grip the top of the railing as he chats with you aimlessly, the same smile that he typically wears is upon his face.

“You must have a lot of experience,” you note, watching Oikawa’s videos on your phone. “It’s super impressive.”

Oikawa laughs. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” you say incredulously. “I was watching one of your old high school videos, and I compared it to one of your more recent ones. Your growth is to die for. I super admire your skills, Toru.”

“My skills?”

I wish I could say more, you think. You believe your words are not enough to describe how you feel. Nothing is able to amount to the pride you feel towards your newfound friend, and it aches to keep your words to yourself. You can tell that he has suffered, and you can tell that he is suffering even now. You smile thinking about how far he has come, how far he has gone to be standing across from you with such a moonlit smile on his face.

You know how he fights, and you are so proud.

Of course, there is no non-cheesy way to say this, so you hope that Oikawa can read your eyes well enough. You hope that Oikawa knows that you are being more genuine now than ever, and you hope that he does not mistake your authenticity for pity.

“I think you are very great,” you say to him truthfully. 

Oikawa’s voice is shaky. “Thank you.”

It feels as if years are going by with you locked in your apartment. Oikawa becomes an integral part in your life and in your everyday habits. You text him nearly every day and find yourself rising early in the morning just to talk to him for a few minutes before collapsing back on your bed.

Your neighbors suggest that you and he have a forbidden lovers thing going on. You ask them where they got that from. They bring up the fact that you and he are from different apartment complexes that just-so-happen to be facing each other.

If your neighbors want their own drama, they might as well try throwing a purse at their neighbor’s window and hope the neighbors are as amicable and handsome as Toru Oikawa. You struck gold with him.

He is easy to get along with. He tells you a lot of stories in the middle of the night and whenever he can. Every experience he tells you about seems to be linked with another experience, which is linked to another and then another. The conversations are flowing out of him, and sometimes, the most you can do is keep giving him positive affirmations so he will keep talking to you.

You like it when he talks to you.

“No phone, Toru?” you note, seeing his empty hands. Oikawa usually has his phone when he talks to you on the balcony. It is strange to see him without it, but Oikawa is a strange guy, you figure. He’s a total dork.

Oikawa is in love with a sport. 

You have many athlete friends. Ordinarily, they complain about waking up early and never getting enough sleep—especially when balancing it with schoolwork. They enjoy their sport to a degree, but it pales in comparison to what Oikawa feels toward volleyball. 

To Oikawa, and to people like Oikawa, volleyball is a practice. They turn volleyball into a habit. It becomes a habit that they care for the sport, and most importantly, it becomes a habit that they, in turn, take care of themselves.

“Too much blue light,” Oikawa says, shaking his head. “I’m cutting down my phone time. It’ll be better for my eyes, too. You ought to do the same.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you joke. “I have to look at screens all day, even if my eyesight deteriorates in the long run.”

“What will you do if you end up blind?” Oikawa leans on the railing. It’s as if he is trying to get close to you. However, the distance between the balconies is six feet apart. Whether you and Oikawa like it or not, you and he are following safety procedures. “You won’t be able to look for aliens with me.”

You laugh. “I don’t believe in aliens.”

“Well, they don’t believe in you, either.”

You make a sad face.

Oikawa is taken aback. He starts speaking quickly. “They don’t have to believe in you. It’s their loss. I’ll believe in you instead. You don’t need the approval of aliens, and you don’t need their opinions. They’re not even on Earth! The Earth is grand enough with you on it, [F/N]. As long as one person—me, or yourself, even!—believes in you, you’ll achieve greater things than aliens.”

It is then you smile. Oikawa is so silly, you think to yourself. You doubt there is anything else in the world that can replicate the neighbor across from you. He is truly one of a kind. “Thanks, Toru. You’re such a loser.”

“Hey,” he says, “love me or hate me. Don’t do both. Make it make sense.”

With Oikawa cutting back his screen time, you do not receive as many volleyball videos or texts from him. You miss his texts, of course, but this only spurs you to catch him in the mornings or in the late evenings when he gets back from practice. Your whole sleep schedule now revolves around the man. He is your friend, after all.

You slightly envy the man, as he seems dead set on becoming better than the person he was yesterday. However, you and he carry different morals. You do not mind not knowing what to do at all; you live from one day to the next, happily taking whatever life gives you. You are content not knowing what the future holds because you know that it is scary, but nothing is fun without being scary.

You do not need to follow Oikawa’s beliefs. Everyone raises themselves differently than the next person, and that does not make them any less productive. As each experience goes by, people take a different lesson from it, learning and learning and learning. That is human thought.

Of course, you learn a thing or two from Oikawa. You learn that there is always someone better, and that should only move you forward. You come to realize that if life does not lead you along, life will drag you, and you are far too pretty to be dragged.

With this in mind, you finish your project in time.

More weeks fly by, and Oikawa greets you as you walk out on your balcony. He is dressed in his practice clothes, and you are dressed in pajamas. You wrap your coat around yourself tighter, as the colder seasons are approaching and you aren’t so keen on freezing to death.

Oikawa’s brown hair feathers the tips of his reddened ears and touches the nape of his neck. He gives you a small wave, and you groggily wave back in response. It is far too early to meet Oikawa, but it seems you and he have an unspoken meeting time at 4 A.M. You have set many alarms for this man, and you hope he appreciates your efforts.

He holds something in his hands. You ask him what it is for, and he calls it a phone. It is not a phone. It is two cups, and they are held together by string. Oikawa tells you that one of the cups belongs to him and the other you. He stretches over the balcony, and you do so as well.

Your fingers barely whisper over his as you grab the cup from him. Oikawa quickly pulls away, nearly making you drop the cup. You swear you felt as if you were on the verge of a heart attack. You angrily curse out Oikawa for scaring you like that, and he only laughs in return.

That is the second time you’ve touched Toru Oikawa.

What a douche.

“Let’s test out the phone,” Oikawa says, putting his mouth to the cup.

You settle your ear to the cup, awaiting Oikawa’s message to you from your balcony. You wait, you wait, and you wait. Your ear is warm with anticipation, and just as you are about to tear your ear away from the cup to yell at Oikawa for joking with you, you hear something.

It is soft and quiet. If not for the stillness of the morning, you would not have been able to hear it. The voice is very faint, and the voice is very, very him. 

“[F/N],” he says. He says your name like a prayer, like something he has kept lodged in his throat. He says it with apprehensiveness and doubt, as if he isn’t sure that it will reach you, as if he isn’t sure that it’ll work—but it does. But it does. 

You smile, and you hold the cup to your mouth. 

“Toru,” you say. You say his name again. “Toru.”

You flit your eyes up to see Oikawa, to see what he thinks of your personal message. In the dim light of the lanterns that hang on his apartment, you see that Oikawa is blushing. The red of his ears has spread across his cheeks. 

He realizes that you are looking at him, and he turns his cheek to the side—a poor attempt of hiding. It is really impossible to keep his expressions from you, as it is only him and you outside. Even your neighbors recognize that there is an hour designated for you and Oikawa.

You put the cup down. Excited, you ask him, “did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he says, regaining his composure. “Your breath stinks—”

You then throw the cup at his head. Oikawa falls back.

It is every day that you and he speak through the string-cup-phone-thing. You and he speak through it in the mornings when he wants to tell you a secret about his coworkers. Oikawa tells you that he has returned to work, as his team mates (including himself) have tested negative for Covid. You are entertained by his stories.

Oikawa has some of your habits, you realize. He must have picked them up from you during the duration of your friendship with him. When he eats candy, he saves his favorite color for last and eats his least favorite first. When he speaks, he crosses his arms—a habit that you have only because of your easy annoyance. He takes some of your jokes as well and repeats them to his coworkers (and you only know this because he tells you; at least he gives his credit to you).

He finds satisfaction in the littlest of things now. He will bring up how pretty the lights in the street below are, and when you are slightly pissed at anything, he will tell you how those aforementioned lights are nothing compared to you. He likes the smell of the bakery down the street, and he promises that he’ll take you there one day because it’s his favorite.

When he tells you a joke, he looks at your face to see if you are laughing. You think he likes your laugh. Or maybe he likes your time and appreciation. Whatever it is, Oikawa does not grow tired of seeing you laugh.

Toru Oikawa is as strange as you, you believe, and strange people stick together.

“Today,” Oikawa says through the string-cup-phone-thing, “I saw a skunk, and I thought of you.”

You blink. “I hate you.”

“Skunks are cute!” he insists through the cup. “I’m talking about its eyes. It had beautiful eyes. Take it as a compliment! The skunk’s beautiful eyes were so astounding that they seemed to—”

“Don’t try to redeem yourself.”

There are some days where Oikawa is too tired to talk to you, and although you are hurt by it, you realize that he needs time to himself. He sits on his bed, visible through the balcony window doors and buries his face in his hands. He looks defeated. All you can do is watch and pretend you do not see.

The thing about character is that one has to keep building it.

Oikawa constantly compares himself to others. At first it is not visible, but it becomes painstakingly obvious to those who are close to him. Oikawa brings up other volleyball players all the time, and he says that he wishes that he can serve like him or receive like her. You tell him that he can, and he laughs.

His envy is tiny, and you can see it in the way he praises this person’s sets and in that person’s passes. All you say in response is that they have to grow to get there, and that he, too, can grow.

So you wait by the string-cup-phone-thing. The cup hangs from you railing and dangles near your ear. It is too late in the day, but you force your eyes awake every time you feel yourself drifting off to sleep.

You will be here for Toru Oikawa. You will be here for him.

Oikawa steps outside today, and he sees you by the string-cup-phone-thing. You are curled up in a ball, dozing off near your respective cup. There is a lopsided grin on his face that appears whenever he sees you. He feels dizzy.

He sits down on the balcony, reaching for his cup that dangles from his railing. He starts talking. He tells you about his day, and he tells you about what he’s worried about. Although you are barely awake to hear it, Oikawa is glad that you are here anyway. You have this unspoken determination about you that makes Oikawa feel jumpy.

The months pass by, and you realize that you have a strong connection with Oikawa. Although having never spoken before quarantine and having never seen him closer than six feet away, you feel closer to him than ever. You do not need to be holding him; you do not need to be near him.

All you have to do is be there.

There are nights where it is you and him and silence. You and he seem to forget that the other is there with them, but if one were to leave, then you and he would feel as if something was wrong. The Earth will not be the same without the other, and you come to the profound realization that the universe is built upon one thing missing the other.

You are humming, and Oikawa is rolling around his volleyball. There is nothing but the sound of the concrete underneath the leather ball and your broken humming. You hum quietly, and it is breathy and choppy.

Then you hear something from your string-cup-phone-thing. You quickly snatch the cup and motion for Oikawa to repeat what he said.

It is quiet and apprehensive. “Do you want to spend Christmas with me?”

You drop the cup. It dangles. You stare at Oikawa, whose ball was rolling away toward the panel of the balcony window door. He is sheepishly carrying his cup and looking at you, expecting an answer.

“Just reject me already,” Oikawa says. So his invitation has more connotations that you realize. Your heart is like that of a jackrabbit. “Then you’ll never hear me bring this up again, if you don’t want me to.”

He stands there, his hair looking like shiny lucky pennies on sidewalks. His smile is as genuine as ever, and it tells you that even if you tell him no, he will still be there with you because that is what friends do. 

If Toru Oikawa were to look in a mirror, he will see a hero.

He is glowing, you think. You don’t know if anyone else can see it. You want everyone to look at Oikawa and see how beautiful he is glowing. He is like the moon. The noisy neighbor whom you once hated is now the person who is most cherished across from you. You believe you can find no one close to Oikawa.

You don’t think you can ever stop appreciating the pillar that is Toru Oikawa, and you don’t think you ever want to. You have a thousand things you want to say, and you do not know which one to say right now. You do not think that this is the right time, either.

Maybe you will say these things later, if you have time.

During the most unfortunate of times, human beings are desperate. Thus, you can say with your utmost confidence that you are here for Oikawa, and that is all. 

You grab the cup and scramble to your feet. It is then you lean over your railing and hold the cup to your mouth. You are happy. You are indescribably, ardently, and passionately happy. There is an answer that rips from your throat when you open your mouth. You say something along the lines of hoping that it better be the best Christmas you will ever have.

Oikawa laughs, and he says, “you’re a delight, [Y/N]. I think you’re like a goddess.”

“Delight is a lousy way to describe me,” you say. “Call me mesmerizing, jaw-dropping, and radiant.”

“How about enchanting?”

You think about it. “I think enchanting will do just fine.”

“Right then,” Oikawa says, “[F/N], you are absolutely enchanting.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Headcanons: Crankegos ⚙️

Aight, we’re doing this so buckle up, because I got a lot to share!

Note: I consider Memento one, but he’ll be in another post with Mori where I’ll go more into-depth about them both.

Mad Mike

Runs both an ice cream shop and an ice cream truck (he changes outfits depending on which he’s working at).

Once owned a highly successive business.

But it was shutdown after Silver Shepherd discovered that the ice cream was being laced with drugs.

Since then Mike tries to stop doing that..but once in a while he’ll put a tiny bit of cocaine in a scoop or two (claims it’s “extra sugar”).

Loves to bake on his days off.

Contrary to his song, he’s got a soft spot for kids and never drugs their desserts.

Struggles with his own addictions from time-to-time, but he’s getting better at dealing with the withdrawals.

Very flirtatious.

Also fluent in French, so that gives him extra brownie (pun intended) points.

Somehow, someway..he’s evaded police ever since the encounter with Silver.

Not very good at talking about his or other people’s problems...so he usually just whips up some ice cream as a temporary solution!

His eyes turn to pink and blue swirls whenever his sanity dips or if he wants to hypnotize someone who insulted his business practices.

Mike’s just a bubbly guy all around.

Blank

One of Ethan’s less malicious dark egos.

Embodies his anxiety and nightmares (though mainly the former)

Blank himself has severe anxiety issues that tend to make him panic over small things.

Corroded teases him for being a crybaby sometimes, but he can’t help he’s overly-emotional. 

Gets very self-conscious of his acne/black eyes/appearance in general, afraid of scaring people away.

Has bluish-pale gray skin.

Likes wearing baggy clothing, though it’s really only to hide the wilted vines and black veins that wrap around his arms and legs.

When he has a breakdown, black oily tears stream down his face, he shakes violently, the room get abruptly cold, and he mumbles unintelligible gibberish.

It can go on from a few seconds to almost 15 minutes straight. It's extremely hard to snap him out of it.

Has haptephobia (fear of physical contact), but he’ll let people he’s close with (like the other egos) make contact with him.

Hates being thrown in with the rest of the dark egos.

Corroded

The first of Ethan’s dark egos, albeit the more forgettable one.

He’s a rusted robot, with gray/brown skin that’s metallic in some areas (especially on his face and hands).

Completely hollow inside (physically) except for metal “bones” keeping himself together.

His eyes are also empty sockets instead of being purely black.

Like Anti he’s a glitching entity who induces paranoia in people with hushed whispers and clones of himself.

Bitter to Ethan about being used for the 5-year anniversary poster advertisement, despite that not being his intention at all.

Also resents Blank for becoming the more popular dark ego.

Regularly drinks oil.

If you call him an animatronic he can and will decimate you.

His biggest pet peeves are being taken for granted and being called a “dumb robot”.

A major weakness is his legs being so rusted they lock up and he can’t move for a long while.

Heapass

A punkish prisoner who’s best friends with Yancy.

He’s been arrested for smoking illegal drugs, dealing said drugs (with Mike, who managed to escape officers while ditching him in the process), and excessive speeding/reckless driving.

But he was sent to HTP for a fatal hit-and-run (while he was smoking grass behind the wheel).

Doesn’t talk a whole lot, but he likes to stand around and smugly grin like he’s got a trick up his sleeve.

Spoiler: He doesn’t, and if you were to ask Yancy about him he’d tell you Heap is one of the sweetest people he’s had the honor of meeting.

He did break his arm during a brawl (tho he told the warden he fell in the yard).

He’s good at keeping secrets. He has no reason to gossip unless you insult his family.

Also dyed his hair black. Just because.

Jake

Was among the many bright scientists trying to find a cure for the spontaneous zombie plague.

He was also Prof. Beauregard's assistant.

Though unfortunately he didn’t last long before he ended up turning.

Surprisingly he still retains much of his scientific knowledge.

But he can’t wrap his rotting brain around complex formulas.

So he’ll sometimes try to mix chemicals and write notes--both of which turn out to be huge messes.

With the other Crankegos, Jake has his own lab.

He gets agitated easily, so he’ll go there to calm down if he needs to.

Can still speak normally, though his voice is extremely scratchy and he hates repeating himself.

So Yahoo often translates for him.

Likes being with a group of zombies...humans not so much.

Though since the Crankegos aren’t exactly human, he doesn’t mind them at all.

Bernice

She’s the gothic mother hen of the Crankegos.

Though at the same time she’s a vicious mama bear if you dare cross her and/or her family.

She’s stern with Mike and Corroded, but very soft towards Heap, Jake, and Blank.

The prisoner often looks to her as a mother, since he didn’t have the best relationship with his own growing up.

Loved red, black, and silver makeup. Especially eyeshadow and mascara. She makes sure to visit the dye shop every so often to keep her hair a bright red.

No one knows how she pays for all those times. But she does it.

Very sassy and likes to show-off a lot, though she’s not a narcissist. 

She’s very generous, too, and can’t stand the thought of being completely obsessed with only her own happiness.

Don’t ask her if she feels weird being the only female Crankego. She’ll break your kneecaps.

Cries at animal rescue/adoption commercials all the time.

Likes wearing meme shirts to be “hashtag relatable”.

She says it exactly like that and Ethan, Heap, and Mike groan every time she does.

Saint

He’s a very holy man, of course, with much dedication to the church.

While Saint doesn’t say what church (or even what his name is for that matter) he’s from, he practices good teachings.

Scolds people if they constantly curse/take the Lord’s name in vain.

He tried integrating memes into his teachings so younger generations won’t be as bored during mass.

But when Jeremiah (Priestiplier) proofreads his writings..he just shakes his head in disapproval.

So those never see the light of day.

Thinks Blank, Corroded, and Jake are horribly cursed and regularly tries spraying them with holy water.

He just gets three annoyed inhuman beings glaring at him.

Heap and Mike confess their recent sins to him sometimes. It helps them get stuff off their chest.

Though Mike always starts out by saying “I’ve been very naughty-”

And Saint has to stop himself from slapping him with the book.

Beyond that, he’s just an all-around good dude.

Yahoo

Like Bing and Google, he’s a search engine-based android designed to answer people’s questions.

Often speaks in a soft and sincere tone of voice, though he can be firm when necessary.

One of his eyes is more cybernetic than humanlike, and it’s capable of many functions including infrared and x-ray scanners, as well as being able to instantly identify any individual he sees.

That’s how he got to know all of the Crankegos so easily.

He’s on good terms with all the Googles...except for Blue, of course, since he thinks he’s just another rival.

But Yahoo still tries to be kind regardless.

Unfortunately some take advantage of that, though Bernice and Mike usually come to his defense.

He’s terrified of water and viruses..so he tends to stay away from Blank and Corroded.

When he’s recharging, both his eyes glow purple under his eyelids.

He’s got a lot of service features, including Yahoo! Finance (to help with personal finances), Answers (a q&a), and Mail.

Kinda misses the funky logo the company had from 1996-2013

[callmethehunter]

Hey everyone!! New Chapter of Robert Fan Fic!! Thanks @firethatgrewsolow for help with edits and for just being so incredibly giving of your time and talent and as always, thanks to @brownskinsugarplum76 for her encouragement to keep at it! This is a continuation of Part I from a few weeks ago. I am pasting the very last paragraph of Part I in italics for a smoother transition. RECAP: So basically, its 1968, the girl had spotted Robert walking towards a group of people at the beach, and was just starting to feel the effects of the acid she had taken earlier. There’s lots of flirting and some sensual moments but the real NSFW is soon to come as Part III. Previously… Ending of Part 1: The same breeze that now caressed her skin also danced among his ringlets . We are all interconnected, she marveled. He brushed the hair away from his forehead, tucking a few golden wisps behind his ear, as his eyes roamed the gathering, coming to rest on hers. A bolt of lightning lit the darkest corners of her mind. Her tanned face flushing, she instinctively dropped her gaze and looked down at her feet, still buried in the sand where the white foamy waves pursued and retreated. She swallowed hard, as she looked up to find him still studying her. And smiling. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part II Why did his gaze and his smile cause a visceral reaction, speeding up her heartbeat and making it difficult to breathe? Trying to appear nonchalant, she looked up in his general direction, afraid that she would find his eyes lingering, but he was deep in conversation. She looked away again, flustered, only to find his beautiful face imprinted on her brain. Damn, she murmured to herself, get yourself together girl, or this acid trip’s gonna take you off on a wild ride for sure… You want to be the captain of this trip, she thought. With his afterimage still floating on her retinas, she mustered all her courage and tried to stand on legs that felt numb and rubbery. She bent down to grab her sandals, almost lost her balance, turned, and began the trek back to the picnic tables. Through the shadows she tried to calculate how long she would have to walk unobscured and visible to the group. She suddenly felt conspicuous and a little paranoid, as if everyone would stop and stare. But why should I care? She wondered…and answered herself under her breath, singing: “Actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky- ta dah da da dar” she air guitared Jimi’s solo with gusto, playing the imaginary Stratocaster left handed, like Jimi. She realized just how absurd she must appear, but that only made her collapse into peals of laughter. The more she tried to stop, the more out of control she became. “Pero que chevere! How groovy is this!” If only she could save this moment of complete abandon and take it out to relive whenever she wanted…wouldn’t that be sweet? For a brief moment, she was literally on all fours, as she tried to resume a respectable upright posture, hoping no one had noticed her momentary insanity….But someone had seen, and it was then she realized that the blonde stranger was emerging from the shadows, taking on shape and substance…the stars flickered on and off, the universe held its breath, time and distance were distorted by the acid so that he bridged the gap between them as if in an instant…She was just getting up when she felt large, strong hands encase her, helping her to stand. She smelled the ocean breeze and the tradewinds in his hair, intermingled with an alluring manly scent; she felt the golden rays of light emanating from his blue eyes. Eyes that were as blue as bluebirds flying over the mountains; blue like the limitless sky above them. Her mouth and face felt numb, her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, barring her speech. “Are you allright?” the tall stranger asked with genuine concern, in an accent that almost caused her absurd giggles to return. She had to bite the tip of her tongue so as to ground herself in the moment and not fly away like a hot air balloon or a feather in the wind. She heard herself, a disembodied voice miles away, replying “Yea, Im fine!” and before she could censor herself, blurted out, “I’m just tripping - Hard. From a purple microdot I did earlier…” she added, with a telltale giggle. “Ahh, I thought as much!” he said in a bright, melodious voice and timbre, as he stifled his own laughter, blue eyes sparkling mischievously like diamonds and sapphires. Holy Shit!, a voice shouted in her brain, This guy is good looking!! And that IS a dimple on his cheek! Her eyes glided over his face and body, surveying his strong chin, the broad shoulders, and toned torso that tapered to a slim waist. Further down, she couldn’t help but notice his bulging crotch - his jeans bursting at the seams in the best way… it was unmistakable, evoking within her a primal longing as old as time; a yearning to feel his body and his hardening manhood pressed against her… “Get a grip,” she admonished herself. Her mind registered all of these impressions in a split second, and the moment was suspended in the stillness of time. When she met his gaze, a lopsided smirk deepened his dimple. Her perusal of his body had not gone unnoticed. In fact, he seemed to be amused by it and amused by her embarrassment at having been caught! She realized they were still hand in hand but that it was she who had sustained the contact far longer than was necessary. Hurriedly, she released her hold, continuing the movement in one fluid motion as she brushed the gritty sand off her cutoffs…God, she was acting like a complete spazz, and the acid wasn’t helping matters one bit. In those moments, it was his turn to survey the landscape of her body, the tanned skin, the swelling of her breasts, her perky nipples that protruded proudly…the small waist and curve of her hips. She would fit right in my hands, he thought, her soft flesh would be the warmth of hearth and home after a long voyage; her full lips like the petals of a velvety rose. He felt a stirring in his loins, the tell tale hardening of his cock beneath the denim. Good God, she was beautiful! He wanted nothing more at that moment than for her to lay down in sweet surrender as her long black wavy hair spilled all around her… Snapping out of his carnal revery, he realized he was standing there like a fool, smirking at this gem of a girl. To fill the charged silence between them, he said. “I’m Robert…and who might you be?” “I’m Maggie,” she replied as she looked up at him. He had to be at least a foot taller, and she found that incredibly attractive. She immediately envisioned him being her shelter against the storms, keeping her safe and warm. “Pleasure to meet you…Maggie.” he savored the taste of her name on his tongue and hoped that by the end of the night he’d be tasting a lot more. “May I ask, where are you from Robert? I detect an accent and I’m sure I haven’t seen you around these parts before… I would remember that,” she said, meeting his steady gaze. Was that the tip of his tongue flicking out and licking his lips?! Lord have mercy, She sensed he was just as attracted to her as she was to him, for his eyes traveled up and down her frame, pausing at certain points of interest. He smiled at her, his tongue back in place, “Of course, darlin’… ask away, I’m an open book!” “Well, then, answer my question, Mr. Open Book… “ she stated as she looked up at him, “or better yet, let me guess!!” she added excitedly. Her exuberance was contagious! “You’re ….Australian, am I right?! “ “Guess again..” he said as he began to walk, not toward the group, but away from it toward the shore. As she joined him, she remained quiet for a second, studying him intently, then suddenly stopped in her tracks and practically shouted, “Wait a minute, I got it! You’re from England?” “Yes, I am actually! Just in Florida for a few gigs. My band is playing at Tugboat Annie’s on Thursday and Friday, before we have to head back to England Saturday afternoon. Would love to see you there if you can make it.” “That depends,” she answered coyly. “Depends on what?” he queried, grinning from ear to ear. “On what happens tonight,” she answered, uncensored once again by the acid, feeling wild and carefree as she took a step closer to him. “And what do you want to happen tonight… pray tell.” She looked into his eyes and answered his question by going up to him and kissing his cheek, right on that irresistible dimple, then she brushed her lips against his and pulled away. He smelled even better up close, and she was filled with desire for him, this perfect stranger who had walked out of the shadows. “I like a girl who knows what she wants,” he replied, encircling her waist with his large hands and reeling her in. “You do?” she replied pushing up against his growing erection. Good God, she was liking this turn of events for sure. “Well, it’s easy for me to know what I want right now” she continued “you’ve got the most amazing, positive vibe. I could tell from the minute I saw you that there was something special about you… something different.” “Oh Yea? That may be the acid talking..although I won’t argue with it” he answered, laughing as he pulled a joint out of his pocket and placed it between his lips, lighting it with his Bic. He inhaled deeply, blew out the smoke and passed it to her as they continued walking down the beach, to a cluster of large rocks that protruded out into the ocean. The locals called this section of the beach “the Jetties.” “So, tell me about yourself, Maggie,” he said to her. “You know where I’m from but I don’t know anything about you…” “Well what do you wanna know?” she replied. “That’s such a broad question.” “For starters, I want to know if that’s a tan or if you were born with such luscious brown skin?” he ventured as he took in the contrast against the white of her top. “Oh, you and your silver tongue,” she rolled her eyes at him but inside she was loving it. “I’m Dominican but I grew up in Puerto Rico…family came over here when I was 10 and we’ve been here ever since” “Really? And do you still speak Spanish?” his eyes expressed genuine interest. She was used to guys playing that game but Robert seemed so authentic. “Actually, I do! My family speaks only Spanish at home.” “So you’re fluent are you?” he exclaimed. “We could have used you last night in Calle Ocho! We almost got ourselves arrested!” he laughed and passed the joint to her which she declined this time. No need pushing her buzz to the max, she needed to be sharp, or at least coherent. They reached the jutting rock formation where the waves incessantly pounded the boulders, spraying salt water everywhere. Droplets came to rest on Robert’s golden curls as well as his arms, and he glistened under the moonlight, his skin almost translucent. In her heightened state, colors seemed more vibrant. “Wanna go up there?” he asked. Mesmerized by the silvery sheen off the moon in his eyes, she nodded absently. “Wait here then, I don’t want you to slip and fall”. As he made his way upwards, she stood on the sand, admiring the view from below. When he had reached the top, he stretched his arm so she could grasp it. She felt his strength as he effortlessly lifted her and set her down beside him. He took her by the hand, leading her to a relatively dry patch. His damp shirt clung to his body and revealed the musculature of his shoulders and back. He’s absolutely beautiful, she thought. She was overwhelmed with the force of his presence as she sat down on the cold hard surface next to him. The smooth rock was not at all welcoming and she looked and felt uncomfortable. He patted his lap, gesturing for her to sit on it, as the joint dangled jauntily from the side of his mouth. What are you getting yourself into?... she thought of Steve, her old man, back at the Bahia Mar, but that wasn’t enough to deter her from the irresistible urge to climb onto Robert’s warm and ample lap. Maggie usually had no trouble striking up a conversation and keeping it going, even with a perfect stranger. With the purple microdot buzzing through her system, she was even more social, more talkative, uninhibited, and carefree. Robert’s sensual and friendly vibe encouraged her natural inclination and she found herself telling him all kinds of things about herself and about having to move from the islands to the United States. He, too, was a great conversationalist, usually interjecting his goofy sense of humor but also listening quietly to her as well. They talked of family, of the U.K,, of his music and his dream to be a singer. As he watched the waves crashing on the rocks around them, he told of his experiences playing the circuit of pubs and bars in the Black Country, where he was from. Recently, his parents had thrown him out of the house, and he was a gypsy, traveling wherever the band was scheduled to play. “That’s too bad about your parents… Does the constant moving from town to town get old after a while?,” Maggie ventured, “There’s a lot to be said about traveling and exploring the world, but to me, there’s no place like home.” “I get it! It’s not that I don’t want to be settled, it’s that I don’t have any interest whatsoever in becoming an accountant and doing people’s taxes for the rest of my life” he groaned. “life’s too short and I’ve got to feel passion about what I’m doing, I’ve got to get off on it, y’know?” he looked up at the silvery moon and stars, gesturing dramatically with his hands he added “Music’s where it’s at for me, Maggie, I live for that…and moments like this when I meet someone I truly click with. It’s cosmic energy at work!” “ Oh my God! “, Maggie exclaimed, “I believe in cosmic energy too! The idea that we are interconnected, that there is something mystical at work in our lives. Like tonight, we are aligned with it!! Can’t you feel it?” “Yes, I can feel it too. But I need more” he answered, leaning in for a kiss which she gave back somewhat distractedly. Her hyperactive mind was full of thoughts, impressions, and random ideas, one of which was the need to hear him sing. “Will you sing me one of your songs…please?” she asked him, in between playful kisses, eager to ascertain for herself if he had talent. He shook his head, his curls bouncing to and fro, and told her she would have to wait till he played Madison Square Garden. She playfully punched him in the arm, saying, “Mean man, I want to hear you sing to me.” Something about the way she looked at him and pouted erased all trepidation and suddenly, in almost a whisper, his voice dropped an octave and he began to sing the blues. It was from a song he and his band recorded just prior to coming to Florida. “I’ve been all around the world, Lord I gotta find my baby ; Yes, I’m going all around the world Yea, I gotta find baby Please mama Please, have you seen my sweet baby ; Oh I’m gonna lose my mind oooh, if I don’t find my baby” She knew she was done for. His voice was …she could not put words to it… his voice did things to her. How he climbed octaves effortlessly, sang with such feeling and passion. He was simply irresistible. Steve was but a distant memory as she adjusted her body to be closer to him, purposely grinding her ass closer to his obviously growing erection. Suddenly a wave pounded on the rocks below, drenching them in an instant and interrupting their moment. They yelped in unison, jumped up and quickly but carefully made their way off the slippery rocks onto the sandy beach below. Dripping wet, they scampered toward the boardwalk, slowing as they spotted a lifeguard tower not too far ahead. They both looked at each other. “Robert! Let’s go there. We can sit on the ramp while we dry off, and you can serenade me.” she teased him as she led him by the hand in the direction of the tower… To be continued with NSFW :D

[lu-undy]

Chapter 24 - SBT

Here it is!

"So, you're takin' me to the bloke you know?" The naked guard on the seat covered his dignity with his hands but Mundy had of course the decency to keep his eyes on the road. 

"Not just yet. We need to bring those 'gators back home and get rid of this truck. Otherwise, they'll find us." 

"Ah, right… Any chance they have some clothes where the alligators go?" The poor man asked. 

"Will ask." Mundy answered.

"Thanks." 

The truck roared through the desert. 

"Hm, we need to get out of the roads. Look in the glovebox, is there a map?" 

The man did as he was told. 

"Yep, there is…" 

"Spread it on your lap." Mundy said. "Cover yerself with it. I'll switch on the light inside to read it. It's the middle of the night now and we'd better drive as stealthily as we can with this beast of a truck."

"Alright, it's all set."

Mundy flipped a switch and slowed down. 

"We're here… Where's the reserve from here…? Oh, I see, we need to cut like this." Mundy turned the steering wheel and the heavy truck took its time to entirely run out of the asphalt. 

"What the hell are you doing?!" 

"Taking a shortcut. If we stay on the road, we'll meet with Duchemin's reinforcements and all this goes to the bin." 

"Alright…!" The poor naked man held onto the truck door as Mundy let his foot dive more on the gas pedal.

"The asphalt's good for the tyres but honestly, the desert is flat and  hard. I drive through it a lot. I know what I'm doing." 

"Right, good to know."

Mundy continued to drive, casting a glance at the map from time to time.

"By the way, name's Eric, you?" 

Mundy chuckled. 

"So all it takes is to get your arse naked, eh? I'm M."

Eric laughed. 

"Well, what can I say…? We had to get to know each other quite well and fast, didn't we?" 

"Yeah, guess you're right." Mundy answered. 

"M, uh… If you know how dangerous Duchemin is, why go after him? You and your mate will die." 

"He isn't my mate. I don't know him." 

"Ha, funny, he said the same thing." 

Mundy looked at the man next to him. 

"D'you have any idea who he is?" He asked Eric.

"Not more than you. The bloke knows how to torture people, I can tell you that much. I can also tell you that he'll end up like you if both of you don't stop this nonsense. You can't go after Duchemin, no one can, not even the police!" 

"They can't cause they need reasons and papers."

"You don't?" Eric asked. 

"I don't need papers." 

"So you have reasons? Ah, I guess the animals."

"They're not the main thing. But yeah. Ah, look, that's it, Johnson's place." 

"Yeah, I recognise this area. That's where we took the alligators from." Eric said. 

Mundy parked the truck as best as he could. 

"Right, you stay here. I'll go wake him up and I'll ask for something to put on for you." 

"Okay." Eric answered. 

Mundy hopped off the truck and went to the big black wrought-iron gate. He ran the bell again and again until the butler with his pyjamas and dressing gown opened the house's front door. He shouted from there.

"Who is it and what is it? I will call the police if you don't stop on the spot!" 

"Calm down, Johnny, wasn't it? It's me, M. I have Johnson's alligators. You guys need to get them out of the truck now!" 

"What?! Now?!"

"Unless you want the house to be a sieve with bullet holes, yeah, right now!" 

"Alright, alright, I'll wake Mister Johnson up."

"And Johnny?" 

"Yes?" 

"Get me a shirt and a pair of trousers." 

"What?" The butler, who was half asleep, frowned. 

"Chop, chop!" Mundy clapped his hands and it was enough to pull Johnny out of Morpheus's arms.

A few minutes later, Johnson was out in a dressing gown too. He had phoned the people who work at his reserve and they were on their way. 

"Goddamn it, M, couldn't you wait for the mornin'?" He asked. 

"D'you sleep with your cigar?" Mundy asked back, seeing how the old man chewed on it. 

Johnson growled for an answer. 

"Here are the clothes you asked for." Johnny joined them in front of the truck with a pile of folded clothes. Mundy took them and knocked on the truck door, on the passenger's side. The window rolled down and Johnson and his butler saw a naked arm sink down and grab the clothes that Mundy held. 

"What the…" Johnson's cigar fell from his lips.

"He helped." Mundy simply said and the first few zookeepers arrived. 

While they got busy with the alligators, Mundy explained roughly the situation. 

“I need to give you your alligators but I suspect some of them aren't yours."

"What d'you mean?" Johnson asked. 

"There are more than the number of alligators you have." 

As soon as Mundy finished his sentence, one of Johnson's zookeepers came to them. 

"We've found half a dozen alligators more than what we expected, and they're a different species. We put them in a different enclosure."

"I might know who they belong to." Mundy said. "You're sure they're alligators? Are they not crocodiles?" 

"You're right they're actually crocs. Who owns them?" 

"The West reserve, the reptile one. I mean, it used to be only reptiles, now they're much bigger." Mundy answered, thinking about Matt's missing crocs. "Can you keep them until tomorrow? I'll contact them and they'll take them back."

The zookeeper looked at Johnson. 

"Yeah, we'll keep them. But not for long, eh?" The old man said. 

"They should be gone quickly, don't worry." Mundy reassured him.

"Also, we're done, the truck is empty." 

"Great. Now, debt's erased." Mundy said.

"Debt's goddamn erased." Johnson extended his hand for Mundy to shake it.  

"You have a phone I can use, Johnson?" Mundy asked.

The old man gestured Johnny who showed Mundy inside. He grabbed the phone at the entrance and dialed the number he still knew by heart.

"C'mon… C'mon… Ugh… Eddy? Eddy, yeah, I'll need a few things. Yeah, it can't wait, listen here…"

-- Next morning --

Mundy woke up later than usual. Well, he had found his bed as the first rays of light of the day emerged from the East. 

"Good Lord…" 

He opened his van's backdoor, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and sighed in relief when he realised that yes, he had had the courage to drive to the lake. 

After a quick bath to wash him from his previous adventure, Mundy was back at the diner for his breakfast. 

"Hey there! How can I help?" 

It was the same waitress. 

"Some coffee and uh… What salads do you have here?" 

"We got one with just veggies, one with chicken - basically a Ceasar salad - and we have one with seafood." 

"Can I get the Ceasar, please?"

"Sure. I'll be a minute." 

Mundy looked through the window. He put his hands in his pockets when he felt something there. 

"What's that…? Ah, yeah…" 

It was a paper he had left on his dashboard. 

"Ah." 

It wasn't any odd advert, nah. He remembered it now. The waiter at the Queen Victoria had given it to him. The coupon for the next show from that French singer. 

"Hm." 

He should have thrown it away. He wouldn't go anyway. Nah. Putting up the awfully tight black suit, tying his hair again, all that jazz just to listen to that bloke? Nah… 

"Here we are, coffee and Caesar salad!" 

"Ah, thanks." 

"Enjoy!" 

Mundy nodded and took a good gulp of his coffee. Yes it was past lunchtime now, but he couldn't possibly start a day without some good old black caffeine. He started digging in his salad.

The dinner at the Queen Victoria wasn't that bad. Well, it wasn't a dinner per se, but rather a dessert, and God, whatever that fancy chocolate thing was, it was awfully good…! Not only that, but the atmosphere, the voice of that bloke… He had felt something. Mundy had felt something. 

And it wasn't distress, despair or solitude. It was something hot, something that sparked and tickled his insides. He had… liked it? The song had touched him, it had moved him, it had moved his insides, his feelings, the air he breathed had a different scent. 

Damn music and her charms. 

Mundy had thought that he had started his journey, healing from the loss of his parents. Accepting that job from Johnson and then later on discovering the identity of the man who had his parents killed… The punch he felt in his gut when he learnt that the man who did that ten years ago was just there, next door…! That had kicked the last bit of life in him. And if it was the last thing he did, so be it. He would find that man and end him. He would end him not like a man, but like some garbage.  Mundy himself would set aside his empathy and humanity and become no more than death itself. There is no reason why that man should receive mercy when he had given none to Mundy's parents and no doubt, countless others too. 

The Aussie sighed. With his thoughts rolling in his head, he had lost track of where that whole internal monologue had started… Ah! Yes! The ad for that concert. The coupon gave him half price on any dessert of his choice. In truth, he couldn't care less about the food. The last time he had eaten anything that had some taste, was that last dinner with his parents. Mac'n'cheese. It was as simple as that. Pasta, cream and cheese. Only his mother knew how to make it right. On all other occasions he had to eat it, it was always bland and tasteless. 

He frowned and as he looked down at his plate, Mundy found it empty. Hm. 

The last time he had eaten something that could compare to food, was in truth at the Queen Victoria, that chocolate cake, ten years after his mother's mac'n'cheese. He could do with a dessert right now. He wanted something sweet. 

Mundy stood up from his seat and went to the counter. He was about to pay what he owed but then looked at the young girl in front of him. Her badge read Victoria. Ha, everything leads to the word "Victoria" now, huh? 

"Can I, uh, can I get a muffin please, to take away?" He asked. 

"Sure! Which one?" 

"Chocolate, please." 

"Here we go!" She put one in a brown paper bag and handed it to him. "Have a nice day!" 

"Yeah, to you too." 

He spun on his heels and left the diner to go straight to his van. 

"Man found burnt in the old hangar! Who wants the latest edition! Ladies and gents! C'mon! Man found burnt in an old hangar! Police's puzzled once again!" The man who simply tried to sell his newspapers shouted loudly on the pavement as Mundy passed him. The Aussie winced at the sudden burst of noise in his ears. 

He hopped on his van in the parking lot and started to drive on his way to Matt's reserve. 

As he let the van drive him, he thought back about the events of the previous day. That mysterious French bloke was something. What was he actually? The man could shoot a gun without any problems, he could take a few blows too. And he wasn't afraid to torture Eric, that poor guard. Whatever that man was, he was dangerous, Mundy concluded in his head. But not that dangerous. After all, he had been caught by those mercenaries that Duchemin employed… 

When Mundy emerged from his daydream, the van stopped, and he found himself in front of the reserve. He hopped off the van and went to the secretary. 

"Hey there, could you call Matt for me, please?" He asked the blond lady. 

"Sure, your name?" 

"M." 

"Alright." She took a walkie-talkie. "Matt, there's a gentleman for you here, his name is M." 

There was a second of silence before the walkie-talkie answered. 

"Comin' right now."

The blond secretary put the device down and looked up at Mundy. 

"You may take a seat, he shouldn't be too long." 

"Thanks." 

And Mundy took the same seat he had been on a few weeks before now, waiting for his friend. He thought about Matt for a second when he remembered Phil. Ha! He should tell him that he found the alligators and he could stop being on the alert for them.

"M?" 

The door had opened and the young man burst in, dressed in khakis. 

"Hey, there."

"How're you doin'?" Matt asked. 

"Good. Uh, I've got some news for you, can we sit somewhere?" Mundy asked. 

"Sure, follow me." 

Matt led the way to a break room. 

"Take a seat, want anything to drink?" 

Mundy sat on one of the sofas.

"Just water, please. I've just had a coffee." 

"Alright." Matt went to the water machine. "So, what's up?" 

"I might have found your crocodiles, by accident." 

"What?!" Matt came with two glasses in his hand and gave one to Mundy before taking a seat next to him.

"I have about half a dozen, they're crocodiles alright. I just don't know if they're yours." Mundy said. 

"Mate, that's fantastic! Where are they? Where did you find them? Can I see them?" Matt's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. 

"Oh, wow hold on, uh… Where they are is at Johnson's. I found his 'gators mixed with crocs so I just delivered everythin' there. Where I found them, you don't really need to know that, and if you can see them? O'course, just go there and I hope those are yours, otherwise I have half a dozen crocs in my hands and I don't have the space in my van, heh." 

"Man, that's amazing! It's like when I was a kid! You disappear and poof! When you reappear, you've got the beasts!" 

Mundy drank his water. 

"Don't get over-excited, mate. They might not be yours." 

"I'm almost sure they are. See, every other day I phone the other reserves and no one received any crocs since they disappeared. If anything, animals got stolen more and more as of late, and it's the expensive ones too! It tends to be endangered species, those with priceless fur and the likes…" 

"I know. I'm workin' on it." Mundy answered. 

Matt smiled. 

"It's so good to have you back, M, really." 

The Aussie softened and let his lips purse in a smile. 

"Yeah, feels good to be back too." He admitted. "Oh, by the way, has anybody else come here and asked about my alligators?" 

"No, no one, why?" 

"Oh, doesn't matter." Mundy stood up. "Right, I got some animals to find. Thanks for the water. Call Eddy at the hunting shop and let him know for the crocs, ok?" 

"Will do!" Matt answered and accompanied his guest back to his van. "Thanks again, mate, really. Those crocs were a family, mom, dad and a few kids who have grown up now. Really glad to have them back." 

Mundy had hopped in his van. 

"Glad I could help. Good luck with your work, mate." 

"Thanks, M, see ya!" Matt waved at the van that grew smaller and smaller as it went away. 

Mundy now needed to think. Eric had told him that the rest of the beasts were in the old sugar factory in the North part of town. He needed to check that, ah, and he needed to know what species there were and how many… Maybe one truck would be too much, or not enough. 

Speaking of the truck, Mundy hoped that Eddy had dealt with it. He had insisted long enough on the phone with him. 

"Burn it, blow it up, do whatever you want with it, no one needs to find it." He had said to a half asleep version of Eddy who still managed to be as talkative somehow, only slower…

But how could Mundy go there without too much trouble. Maybe he didn't need to go to the sugar factory, maybe he could just ask. 

The van turned to the dirty neighbourhood. Maurice might know a few things. Also, if he was to talk with him, maybe he could ask about that French bloke…?

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

Headlines

Stray Kid’s Changbin x Reader ft. Minho

Actor!AU

Genre: fluff... i think

A/N: happy birthday to @changbeanie! this is late, i’m soo sorry, but please accept this in place of changbin or an amazon gift card. T^T also like if changbin was an actor... bruh there’s a movie i’d watch over and over and over again. also, this will be a 2 part story

“No. Absolutely not. I refuse,” I spoke through clenched teeth, the chair I had been perched elegantly on a few seconds ago now lying on its side a few feet away. Seo Changbin peered darkly at me through his long eyelashes. I could’ve sworn the temperature in his hotel room dropped as we stared icily at each other. A cool hand clamped down on my shoulder and I spun around to see my manager watching me sternly.

“Look, __,” Minho, my manager spoke, tone even and guarded. “You need more exposure. You and Changbin have known each other for a couple years now, and after some discussion with the higher ups, both he and they have agreed to let him go public with you.”

“Go public?!” I nearly screeched. “Minho, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but just because we are signed under the same agency, does not at all mean that I know or have anything akin to a crush on him.”

The dark, brooding male sitting across from me parted his lips to say something, but Minho grabbed my shoulders and pressed me down into another chair before Changbin could say anything. My manager looked me dead in the eye.

“__. As much as I’d love for you to continue doing just mediocre, I can’t. Now the boss said he’ll give you guys sixty days -that’s six-zero- for something to happen. If things don’t go the way we’d like, then after that sixty days it over, you two can break it off like nothing ever happened. In the case that things go well, we may prolong the amount of set days. Now what’s been agreed on has already been agreed on and we can’t do anything about it anymore. Now please, for both my paycheck and yours, __, just cooperate this once.”

Enraged, I glared right back at him until he rolled his eyes and turned towards Changbin, fingers pressed into his temples in an attempt to ward off the headache I had given him.

“I’ll leave you two to sort things out, then,” Minho spoke, grabbing his keys from off the table. He turned towards the door, pushing his sunglasses back into place. “Changbin, thank you so very much for being so wonderfully compliant, and __…” Spinning around one last time, he directed a patronizing finger towards me.

“I’ll be in the parking lot waiting. I know you can do this.”

The smack of the front door slamming closed once more resounded in the eerie silence hanging between us. Minho wasn’t usually this irritatingly stiff. And truth be told, I didn’t usually make his life so hard by being so stubborn. As a budding actress, it’s part of my job to be flexible and compliant… however none of my education and training had included how to react upon realizing my manager had been mingling with the higher ups to arrange a relationship for me with and an extremely well-known coworker that I didn’t exactly like.

A weighted stare alerted me to the quiet male I was currently stuck in the room with. Sighing, I reluctantly brought my gaze to my fellow actor. Changbin met my eyes quietly with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve heard some things about you, __…” Changbin started, his obnoxiously lax demeanor very off-putting.

“Is that right?” I shot back, still quite vexed. “What types of things?”

“Just things like although your movies haven’t done as well, you’re actually a very talented actress.”

His softly spoken words brought me back for a moment. Did Seo Changbin -the Seo Changbin- really just compliment me? An uncommon crimson shade rose to my cheeks. In all the years I’d come in contact with him, he never striked me as the type of guy to just dish out compliments, especially ones he didn’t mean. Before I could say anything though, he went on.

“Then again, the agency had to resort to me, which only happens if they’re desperate. It’ll be interesting to see how good you actually are with this.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I bristled back, scowl once again present on my face.

“It’s up to interpretation. However…” He stood, walking towards me like a panther would toward its prey. Halting just a couple inches shy of my crossed legs, Changbin bent down so that his cool gaze was level with mine. “Though you may not like me, great actors can make anything look real.”

“How did it go, __?” Minho asked softly. Thankfully, we both had gotten enough time to cool off and he wasn’t about to bite my head off any time soon. The beautiful night sky appeared blurred and distorted through the tinted passenger window. Leaning my head against the cool window, I heaved out a sigh.

“It could have gone worse. We’ve agreed to a time to meet up to plan out the first four weeks, but other than him indirectly dissing me… I think we made a good amount of progress.”

The rather empty hybrid car hummed as a somewhat uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Finally, at a red stop light nearly three minutes later, my manager turned to me, an empathetic smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Although it definitely should have occured to me- it didn’t occur to me how upset you were going to be,” he spoke, the smallest hint of shame shaking in his voice. A greenish glow bathed the two of us in a ghastly ambiance as the car purred to life again. Pulling my knees to my chest, I shrugged.

“You were just looking out for me. I should have been more understanding.”

I knew how much effort Minho put into things appearing good, even before he was assigned to me. After all, he was my older brother’s best friend from primary school and I’d seen the projects he’d created with him over the years.

“Yeah…” Minho chuckled, pulling into a familiar neighborhood. “-but then again, making an effort to be more understanding has never been your strong suit.”

And the sound of our carefree laughter was all it took to break the serious mood we’d created.

“This… is your apartment?” Changbin asked, dark eyes carefully scrutinizing every inch of my living quarters. An angry flush colored my cheeks. Initially, I was planning on starting over and making an effort to be friendly this time, but his unwarranted commentary was pushing my patience. My apartment was tidy, my succulents had been watered, my dishes all washed, dried and put away, heck, even my bed was made. Nevertheless, the resting-bitch look on his face made it look like I hadn’t cleaned the place in years. What could I say? I couldn’t afford a maid. I hadn’t become world famous like he had. The arrogant bitch.

“Yes, this is what I get from the mediocre movies I act in. Get used to it, you’ll have to see it at least a couple more times in the next sixty days,” I muttered, plopping myself on the couch and opening my computer.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it,” he spoke, holding his hands up in defense, shocking me against with his honesty. “It’s just… smaller than I pictured it being.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I don’t make as much as you do,” I rolled my eyes and patted the spot next to me. He hesitantly sat on the couch, studying every inch of me as I took a deep breath. It’s only sixty days, __. You can do this.

Beside the fact I was stuck with a man I was supposed to be an item with but didn’t know anything about... It was a lovely afternoon really. There were only a few clouds dotting the familiar Seoul skyline and my open windows let in a cool, calm breeze. A few rays from the lazy afternoon sun pushed through my blinds, casting strange shadows on the walls. I hadn’t gone out at all today aside for an early morning run, so my outfit still only consisted of exercise pants and one of my over sized sweatshirts.

Changbin on the other hand was adorned in a black fitted tee and a pair of dark, ripped jeans. I’d only seen him once or twice before around the agency and both times were very briefly, but now that he was up close and the only person in the room with me, I realized just how attractive he was. His eyes were a deep brown, partially hidden behind his messy bangs. His arms rippled with a subtle strength I hadn’t noticed before. And his lips, lord, the curve his plush lips-

“So __,” Changbin cleared his throat, drawing my attention away from his lips. The angry flush on my cheeks turned into an embarrassed blush as I tore my eyes away from his face. “When would you like to go public? And how are we going to go public? What’s our ‘back story’ going to be?”

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear sheepishly, I shrugged.

“Sometime in the next couple days would be ideal, next week by the latest,” I spoke, adding another date the outline. He nodded, finally looking away from me. “As for how... I was thinking something along the lines of -hmm..- going out for a small date? Maybe coffee or lunch or something. Somewhere that would bring a lot of attention to us.”

Changbin nodded his understanding and typed something on his computer. I began observing him, trying in vain to figure out this puzzle that was supposed to be my boyfriend. Actors and actresses were definitely one of the hardest people to read. Bit by bit, I picked out the things he began to do subconsciously. The narrow of his eyes as he focused on the screen. The indistinct bite of his lips as he reread what we had so far.

“Somewhere… like a mall or something?”

“Yeah!” I spoke abruptly, trying to mask the fact I had been staring at him. “And as for our back story…”

“-I’d run into him all the time while at the company. Everything about him intrigued me, his looks, his personality… Everything from the blatantly obvious things to the small tidbits about his back story and what he does in his spare time… Over time, it grew into something more than admiration. I was just lucky when he began to notice me as well,” I said, pretending to hide a blush behind my hand.

“Okay, the fact that I almost believed that is shameful.” Minho scrunched his nose up, pretending to throw up. Wiping the cutesy blush off my face, I grabbed the pillow Changbin’s feet were perched on and threw it at my manager.

“Shut up, Minho, I just needed to know if it’s it’s alright.”

“Well…” Sighing, Minho looked at Changbin before shrugging. “I’m not a professional actor, my opinion may not be as relevant because I’m only your manager. Changbin, what do you think?”

The attractive male beside me cocked his head.

“In my experience, the media will always eat up whatever you throw at them, no matter if it’s trash-” I lifted my hand to smack him, but he grabbed merely grabbed it and shot me an exasperated glare. “-but it’ll work well enough.”

Glancing between us, Minho stood and clapped Changbin’s shoulder.

“Alright, you two sound like you know what you’re doing. I do think it’ll look more natural if you two are touching somehow, like holding hands or linking arms, but whatever you two believe will work most effectively should do just fine. __, you’re going to do fine, chill. Changbin, I’ll see you later.”

“Hey Changbin,” I mumbled through the phone, pacing back and forth nervously in front of the front door. “How far are you away right now?”

The day had finally come for us to ‘go public’ and though I knew it was all fake, though we were both actors and everything about us revolved around being what others needed us to be, though I knew it was merely for my benefit, my heart continued to beat ten times faster than normal as I fiddled with my jacket zipper nervously.

“I’m about 5 minutes away, why?” The sound of his voice crackled through the phone speakers, relieving some of the stress from off my shoulders.

“Because Minho just called and told me he arranged for some paparazzi, and now I’m nervous,” I somehow managed to say while opening and closing my fists repeatedly. I knew by confiding in him this ridiculous fear, I was surely bound to be teased and ridiculed. The line was silent for a moment. What was I doing? What was I hoping to achieve by telling him this? I just told an experienced actor I was afraid of acting. Parting my lips, I rushed to excuse myself from the conversation.

“I-I.. I mean nevermind, you didn’t need to know tha-”

“Hey __,” Changbin finally spoke, gently interrupting me. “Calm down, you’re overthinking this.”

The moment his atypical words registered in my mind, I held my breath, waiting for the usual snobbish comment to come after that. However, the next thing he said sent my heartbeat spiraling out of control.

“I’ll be right there beside you.”

Sipping my mocha latte slowly, I did my best not to express the fact I was near terrified. Acting was something I normally did only in front of a camera crew and a director, never had I brought it to the real, unsuspecting world. I could almost hear the clicking of nearby hidden cameras as I clenched Changbin’s hand tighter.

Chuckling, Changbin leaned closer, breath fanning out over my neck whilst we strolled by the different shops and mini outlets.

“Relax, __. At this rate, even the paparazzi will know it’s fake.”   

“Oh hush,” I giggled through my clenched teeth, bringing the smile up to my eyes and attempting to make it seem like he had just said something hilarious. “I’m not exactly the live action type.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he murmured, taking a sip of his caramel macchiato. Though I was otherwise uncomfortable with this whole situation, I had to admit, we were dressed to impress. With a lowkey couple outfit, matching vans and twin face masks, Changbin and I looked rather stunning in our apparel. And glancing over at him through my sunglasses, I was once again reminded of just how gorgeous of a person he actually was. His dark chocolate colored eyes seemed to glow gold in the morning sunlight and the tufts of hair peeking out from under his beanie framed his face in the most angelic way possible.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” My partner’s husky voice broke me out of my trance and I scowled, playfully hitting his arm.

“You wish,” I scoffed, searching his features in vain to find an excuse for my damned eyes. “There was just…” Pausing in my stride, I reached up and pretended to pluck something from his hair. “Ah! There was just -uhm- something in your hair.

Lowering my hand, the entirety of what I had just done dawned on me. I peered shyly up at the male in front of me through my lashes, trying to gauge his reaction. On Changbin’s lips sat a gentle smile, eyes directed solely on my figure. The weight of a thousand eyes fell on me and almost immediately my brain went on auto-pilot.

Time slowed when he began to lean forward, just like it would have in the cheesy dramas I acted in. My heart beat loud and clear in my chest and blood rushed wildly through my ears. I scolded myself for the buzzed feeling, after all, it was just an act, just another corny romantic scene. However, nothing could break the barrier around my rational thought and I braced myself for whatever was bound to happen.

Part of me was expecting him to lean close to my ear and whisper ‘psyche’ and the other was internally squealing. Perhaps this is why I hadn’t made it big yet, I still didn’t have any control over my emotions. See, once his lips touched my forehead, all of my mind, rational and irrational, blanked.

The gentle kiss lasted only for a fraction of a second and the second Changbin pulled away, I broke out of the trance. Still, the stupid smile stayed on my face and again he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

“Hey __! I saw the pictures. Not bad for a first run,” Minho’s voice floated through the car speakers after ten long seconds of the dreaded dialing tone.  

“Hey Minho,” I spoke nervously, fisting the hem of my jacket. “Has anything come out yet?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” The unmistakable pride in his voice caused a smile to bloom out over my face. I glanced at Changbin who at the moment was grinning softly, maybe there was still hope for me. “I’ll send it to you.”

Soon after the line went dead, I received a notification on my phone. I quickly opened the link.

“Breaking Headlines,” I read aloud. “World famous Actor Seo Changbin’s Girlfriend Revealed.”

Under the bold text were the pictures from our ‘date’ and my cheeks warmed at the sight of a well-shot picture of the two of us walking hand in hand.

“There you go, Bin,” I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “How was that?”

“You almost had me fooled,” he snorted, reaching over to pat my head, smile still present on his lips. “Now let’s get these sixty days over with.”

Though the words caused an unexpected pang of sadness to bloom in my chest, I somehow masked it with a smile.

Part 2 -->> (x)

[imjustthemechanic]

Our Own Demons

Part 1/? - A Bolt from the Blue Part 2/? - A Different World Part 3/? - Stark At Home Part 4/? - Pot Roast Night Part 5/? - Space-Pie Continuum Part 6/? - Energy Signature Part 7/? - Miss Potts Part 8/? - Bot from Beyond Part 9/? - Even the Odds Part 10/? - Miss Potts Arrives Part 11/? - Truth Hurts Part 12/? - The Third Reality Part 13/? - Thor and Odinson Part 14/? - The Tesseract Platform Part 15/? - Prime Suspect

What if Tony Stark really were the villain of the Marvel universe?  How would that work?  Tony himself is about to find out, as he battles his inner demons (and some outer ones, too) across a multiverse of infinite possibilities.

That wasn’t the note Tony wanted to end this experience on, but since the other was determined to be huffy, there was apparently no help for it.  Tony took a folded envelope out of his pocket and put it in the other man’s hand before climbing up onto the platform.

“Well, it’s been weird but I have to run,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see some of you again sometime.  And het,” he pointed to his double, “this is your standing invitation.  If you’ve got some tesseract juice and some vay-cay days to kill, come and be my Cousin Arno for a while.  I’ll get you a yacht and Aishwarya Rai’s phone number.”

But apparently the other just thought he was rubbing it in.  “I don’t really do vacations,” he said.

Foster and Hill went over the settings again, while Miss Potts stood watching as if lost in thought.  When everybody finally agreed that they were as ready as they’d ever be, Foster flipped the switch, and Tony felt his hair stand on end as the equipment began to hum.

“Say hello to your world’s Ginny Potts for me!” said Miss Potts.

“Pepper,” Tony replied.  “Everybody calls her Pepper.”

And then the world went white.  For a moment it flickered back in, and Tony saw a wood-paneled room full of people in historical costumes, with wigs and high heels and frock coats.  He might have recognized a few faces as they gaped at him in surprise, but then they were gone again, and he was suddenly thrown off his feet into a pile of boxes.

Tony had expected it would be easier to get his equilibrium back when he knew what was about to happen, but it wasn’t.  he was buried in junk somewhere very dark – he could hear crockery and metal crashing about as he tried to dig himself out of it. The whole place was vibrating and there was a smell of diesel… and after the initial moment of disorientation he realized he was in the back of a large container truck.  The truck was moving, which mean that somebody was driving it, and that in turn meant that some form of help was at hand.

He fought an arm free of the mess and climbed over more boxes to bang on the nearest wall.  “Hey!” he shouted.  “Hey, open up!”

At first there was no response, but Tony continued banging and hollering until after a minute or so, the truck pulled over and stopped.  Through the holes in the side of the container he could see shadows moving past.

“Is somebody in there?” a voice called from outside.

“Yes!” said Tony.  “It’s a long story – let me out and I’ll tell it to you!”

Something outside went clunk, and light came flooding in as the doors at the far end opened.  The tesseract platform had been packed into the truck along with all the boxes of useless kitchen stuff that had surrounded and disguised it, and Tony had materialized right in the middle of it all, leaving holes in the cardboard and crockery to admit him.  For half a second he was amused by the idea of the people in one of those other realities finding themselves with a Tony-shaped pile of junk on their platform, but then he brought himself back to the situation at hand.

Several people were standing in the open doors. They were dressed in black helmets and jackets with the SHIELD eagle logo on the shoulder, and all of them were pointing guns at Tony.

He held up his hands, although he was pretty sure they wouldn’t shoot once they saw his face.  “Just me!” he said, assuming they knew who he was.  “You guys wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

The agents stepped aside to let him climb down from the truck.  They were at the side of the road somewhere in an area that looked halfway between suburbs and countryside – there were trees and telephone poles and fences, but very few actual buildings.  Tony couldn’t have put a name to the place.  The agents were all staring and exchanging glances, not too sure what to do about the fact that Tony Stark was suddenly in their truck.

“So,” Tony said, and turned to the nearest one to ask, but before he could get another word out, somebody hit him in the back of the head with the butt end of a rifle.  Tony had time to observe that he hadn’t done anything to deserve that, and then he fell face-first on the pavement.

He woke up with a splitting headache, to find himself lying on a very uncomfortable mattress in a tiny room with no furniture except the small bed and a metal toilet.  Three of the walls were bare whitewash, and the fourth was not a wall at all but a set of metal bars, through which Tony could see a hallway with a window at one end and a door at the other, and more cells in between.  He was being held at a police station, which he supposed was better than some other places he could have ended up – but still no way to welcome a guy back to his own reality.

“Hey!” he shouted again.  “I’m awake!  Time for my phone call!”  The last time Tony had been arrested, for a DUI in 2010, he’d used his phone call to order pizza for the entire police force and they’d let him go with smiles on their faces.  This time he was going to be much more responsible.  This time, he was calling Pepper.

The door at the end of the hallway opened, and two police officers – a tall, thin black man in clubmaster glasses, and a middle-aged white woman with bobbed brown hair – came to take a look at him as he stumbled, still somewhat dizzy, over to the bars.

“Are you really Tony Stark?” the man asked.

“Yes,” said Tony.  “I’d show you ID but I seem to have left it in my other pair of pants. Where am I?”

“Leesburg, Virginia,” the man replied.  “We brought you in about half an hour ago.”

Maybe they’d stuck him in a holding cell because they just didn’t know what else to do with him, Tony thought… although he hoped he’d at least been seen by paramedics of some sort. “I need to make a phone call,” he repeated.  “I’m kind of dealing with an emergency right now.”

“Been a hell of a week for that,” the woman observed.

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” the man said, without acknowledging his colleague.  “But first we’ve got a few questions to ask you.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Tony protested.  “I have to call Pepper!”

The cops exchanged a glance.  “Mr. Stark,” said the woman.  “You’re not free to go.  You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” Tony demanded.

“Attempted carjacking, for one thing,” said the woman.  “The woman who called 911 said you’d threatened her kids. For another,” she looked Tony right in the eyes, “murder.”

Tony was actually relieved – it was just a misunderstanding.  Of course it was.  He hadn’t killed anyone…

Then his stomach dropped so hard he was surprised he didn’t hear the splat when it hit the floor.

“I want a lawyer,” Tony said.

Two hours later, Tony was in an interrogation room drinking very bad coffee, with not one, but three lawyers standing in a sullen row behind him.  The male cop seated himself on the other side of the little table and folded his hands in front of him. Both the table and the chairs they were sitting in were bolted to the floor so they could not be moved.  As if the police expected Tony to suddenly go berserk and start tearing the place apart.

“My name is Sid, by the way,” the cop said, reaching to shake Tony’s hand.  “My kids are big fans of yours.  I gotta say, this isn’t how I ever pictured meeting you.”

“Yeah, well, life’s a funny old thing,” Tony replied. He noted the man’s use of a first name – this guy was playing ‘good cop’, trying to make like he was Tony’s friend. Making friends with policemen had been a good strategy in the past but this situation did not leave Tony feeling very sociable.

“Do you have any idea why you’re here?” Sid asked.

“Only what you told me,” said Tony.  “I’ve been out of town for a couple of days.  I just got back from a side adventure, and the first thing that happens is some guy in a black helmet knocks me out and I wake up in jail.  Whatever you want to ask me about, I’m sure it’s important and I’m sure you and my lawyers can iron it all out, but I need to call Pepper.”

“You want to call Virginia Potts,” Sid said.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Tony asked, annoyed.  “Yes, I want to call Virginia Potts.”  Was this his own reality?  Lord, he hoped so – the last thing Tony wanted was to have to find his way out of another alternate universe.  What if he’d somehow gotten lost?  In infinite universes, could he ever find his way back to his own?  What a horrible thought!

“Why do you want to call Ms. Potts?” asked Sid.

“To make sure she’s all right,” said Tony.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but some kind of government hit list just got put up in Wikileaks, and her name was on it – I checked. I’ve been out of the loop, and I want to see if my girlfriend is okay.  Wouldn’t you?”

Sid didn’t answer the question.  Instead, he asked another: “Do you know where Ms. Potts is?”

“At the moment, no,” Tony replied.  The lawyers had advised him to tell the truth – if he hadn’t done anything, he had nothing to hide.  “Last I knew she had some kind of event at the LACMA, and I was trying to contact her there when events intervened.  Why?”  He was starting to get worried.  Sid’s interest in Pepper and the mention of a murder charge were a terrifying combination. “Where is she?”

“We hoped you could tell us,” said Sid.

“I can’t.”  Tony shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Sid asked.  “Because the last time anyone saw her, she was with you.”

That was almost, not quite, a confirmation of Tony’s worst fear, and he had to shut his eyes a moment to fight back the hot tears that pricked at the corners of him.  The only Way Pepper could have last been seen with him were if another alternate had been here… what the hell hat this other done, and would killing him for it count as suicide?

“I haven’t seen her in a week,” he said when he felt he could speak without either shouting or sobbing.  “Not since I left California last Wednesday.  We’ve skyped in the evenings, but the last time I saw her face-to-face was the morning I left.  Is she missing?”

“Witnesses saw her leave the Los Angeles County Museum of Art with you,” said Sid – his voice was gentle, aware he was breaking bad news. “Apparently you seemed very concerned that she go with you at once, and nobody’s seen either of you since, until you turned up at the side of the road earlier today.  Now that you’re here, we hoped you could point us to her location.”

She was gone.  The guy who’d started all this, playing with the tesseract in Reality B – or whichever one had been his – had taken her.  He’d put her in the Mark XLIII and taken her back to his world.  It was the only possibility, or at least the only one Tony was willing to entertain. With her gone and Tony the last person seen with her… this was the kind of thing that aired on Dateline.  They thought he’d killed her.

“All right,” he said with a sigh.  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain this to anybody but her, but I’m going to assume if you know who I am then you have some idea what my life’s been like the past few years.  Here’s what happened.”

Sid was not very impressed by Tony’s story.  Even the lawyers tried several times to interrupt, but Tony shushed them and plowed ahead anyway.  The cop across the table listened with a carefully neutral expression, and when Tony had finished he said he would be right back, then got up and left the room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” one of the lawyers asked once he was gone.  “Do you have any idea how crazy that sounded?”

“You told me to tell the truth,” Tony reminded her.

“That wasn’t the truth – that was ridiculous!” the woman protested.  “Your alibi is an alternate reality?”

“I’m a superhero!  This stuff happens!” said Tony.  “Didn’t you tell me you were Bruce’s cousin or something?  You should know our lives are bullshit.”

The door opened again, but instead of Sid coming back, this time it was his female co-worker.  She was scowling.  “Mr. Stark,” she said, businesslike, as she sat down.

Tony sighed and nodded – Mr. Stark.  Sid was done with him.  This woman was going to be the bad cop.

[thelastspeecher]

NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 25 - Sibling’s Weekend

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08 Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16 Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24 Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

Summary: Fiddleford visits his younger sister at West Coast Tech, for the school’s “Sibling’s Weekend”.  It doesn’t end well.  [West Coast Outcasts AU] Word count: 1997

               Ford resolutely stared at his shoes as he walked back to his dorm, trying not to focus on the exam he had just taken.  

               I’m slipping.  I got a B on an assignment last week.  How did that happen?  He huffed.  Damn social sciences.  Who even cares about sociology?  I’m a physicist.  I sure as hell don’t.

               “Oh, howdy, Ford!” a voice chirped cheerfully.  Ford looked up.  

               “Angie.”

               “Got it in one,” Angie said with a wink.  She bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly.

               “You seem to be in a good mood,” Ford remarked, coming to a stop next to his friend.  Angie beamed at him.

               “Fidds is visitin’ fer Siblin’s Weekend!  So ‘re Lute and Harper, but Harper drops by all the time.”  Angie grinned sheepishly at Ford.  “Sorry again ‘bout how Harper read ya the riot act. He’s overprotective.  Most of my siblin’s are.”

               “Your older brothers are visiting?” Ford asked.  He set down his bag on the sidewalk.  Angie nudged it onto the well-trimmed lawn with her foot. Ford looked askance at her.

               “Sorry.  But lots of folks ‘round here don’t watch where they’re goin’.  Too busy stickin’ their noses in books.  Yer usually one of ‘em, you understand.”

               “I don’t want my bag to get stained,” Ford mumbled, picking his bag up again.  Angie rolled her eyes.

               “City slicker.”

               “Farm girl.”

               “Yup.  Anyways, yep, three of my older brothers are visitin’.  Not Basstian, though.  He’s always busy.”

               “Basstian is…” Ford started.

               “The only one what didn’t inherit Pa’s nose.  He’s a music teacher, and, apparently, very intimidatin’.” Angie shrugged.  “I don’t see it.”

               “He is your older brother.”

               “True enough,” Angie said with a nod.  She grabbed fistfuls of her skirt (She must not have had any labs today; she’s too klutzy to risk wearing anything nice during dissections.) eagerly.  “Ooh! That’s Fidds’ car, pullin’ into the lot right now!”  Ford looked over at the parking lot.  Fiddleford McGucket was getting out of a beat-up, rusted brown truck.  Ford’s heartrate picked up.

               Ah, yes.  My one friend’s attractive, intelligent older brother.  

               “So, um, last year, fer Siblin’s Weekend, yer twin brother visited,” Angie said, clearly feigning her casual tone.  “Is he goin’ to come again this year?”

               “Unless he got banned from flying or lost his plane ticket, yes, he should be here,” Ford said.  Angie grinned.

               “Good, good.”

               “Why are you excited about that?”                “Oh!  Uh, no reason,” Angie squeaked.  She ducked her head, but was too slow to hide the slight flush that was spreading across her cheeks.  Ford furrowed his brow.

               Odd…

               “I mean, ‘cept fer how, it’ll be good fer ya to socialize with someone who isn’t me,” Angie fumbled.  “Ya need to make some more friends.”

               “I’m fine with just the one,” Ford said with a shrug.

               “Aw.”

               “It’s how I’ve spent most of my life, after all.”

               “Way to go, ya turned that cute moment into a sad one,” Angie said, shaking her head at him.  She looked away from Ford to beam broadly at her approaching older brother.  “Fidds!”

               “Howdy there, lil Miss Banjey,” Fiddleford said, walking up to his younger sister and hugging her tightly.  

               “Fidds.”

               “Oh, right, yer Angie, not Banjey.”  Fiddleford looked at Ford.  “She thinks she’s too good fer the fam’ly names.”  Angie elbowed Fiddleford in the stomach.  “Oof!  Good to see you, too, sis.”  Fiddleford smiled politely at Ford.  “Good to see you, as well, of course.  Stanford, right?”

               “Yes.”

               “If I recall correctly, you have yourself a twin brother?”

               “Yes.”

               “That’s nice.  Like Angie. Is he goin’ to visit?”

               “Stan will be visiting, yes.  He should get here in a few hours.”  Fiddleford’s offhand remark clicked in Ford’s mind.  “Angie, did Fiddleford just say you have a twin brother?”

               “Hmm?  Oh, yeah, I do.  Lute. He’s visitin’.”

               “I thought he was your older brother.”

               “By three minutes,” Angie said.  She unzipped Fiddleford’s bag and began to rummage around in it.

               “You told me none of your siblings were multiple births!”

               “I didn’t want ya to feel less special, since I’m a twin, too,” Angie said cajolingly.  She took a hardcover book titled Hamboning and Computer Coding out of Fiddleford’s bag.  “Fidds, where did ya find this?”

               “The library.”

               “Angie, you-” Ford stammered.

               “And anyways, ya were ramblin’ ‘bout yer fam’ly fer the first time since I’d met ya, and I thought if I corrected ya, you’d clam up again,” Angie mumbled, flipping through Fiddleford’s book.

               “Angie!” Fiddleford scolded.  “Ya don’t lie to get folks to tell things ‘bout themselves.”

               “It was just a lil fib.”

               “But- but I’ve seen pictures of Lute.  He looks much older than you,” Ford said desperately.

               “It’s just ‘cause he’s taller,” Angie said with a shrug.  She took another book out of Fiddleford’s bag.  “Hey, this is the same textbook my Entomology class uses!”

               “I was lookin’ fer tips on handlin’ cockroaches,” Fiddleford said, snatching the book out of Angie’s hand.  “The dorm rooms at Backupsmore are even more infested than I thought they’d be.”

               “That’s unfortunate,” Ford said.  He shook his head.  “I can’t believe I’m only now finding out you have a twin brother.  How long have we known each other?”

               “Lil over a year,” Angie said.  She looked at Fiddleford.  “Fidds, do I see yer banjo in here?”

               “Yes, ya do.”

               “Why’d ya bring yer banjo?”

               “Why not?”

               “‘Cause ya like to play songs at night, and we’ve got quiet hours in the dorms here.”

               “I’ll play outside of the dorm.”

               “Lord, someone’s goin’ to think yer serenadin’ ‘em,” Angie mumbled, zipping Fiddleford’s bag up again.

               “The convention is to use a guitar,” Ford pointed out.

               “Ford, you’ve known me fer a year.  Does anything ‘bout me strike ya as ‘conventional’?” Angie asked.  Ford looked Angie up and down.  She raised an eyebrow.  “Ya have to get a good look at me to come up with an answer?”

               “It helps.  And, no, you are very unconventional.”

               “Exactly.  I get it from my folks.  So, of course my older brother wouldn’t serenade with a guitar.”

               “I’m not sure how I feel ‘bout this conversation,” Fiddleford remarked. Angie laughed.  “Mind escortin’ me upstairs, so’s I can drop off my stuff?”

               “You got it,” Angie said.  She waved at Ford as she walked away.  “See ya later, Stanford!”

----- 

               Ford was woken up by a loud crash.  

               “Whazzat?  Who’s there?” Stan slurred, falling off the other bed in Ford’s room.  Ford again thanked whatever omnipotent deity that controlled room assignments for his lack of a roommate.  “I’ll pay you back!”

               “Stanley, you’re still half-asleep,” Ford chided.  He turned on his bedside lamp.  Stan blinked in the light.

               “Ugh, not anymore.  Why is your lamp brighter than the sun?” Stan mumbled.  Ford didn’t respond.

               Crash!

               “What on Earth is going on?” Ford muttered, getting out of bed.  He pulled up the window blinds and gaped at what he saw on the dorm’s front lawn.  “Holy Moses!”

               “What is it?”  Stan joined Ford by the window.  “What the fuck?”  The twins watched silently as one of the three giant ants picked up a car in the parking lot and crushed it in its mandibles.  “Sixer, what the hell is with your school?”

               “I assure you, this is far outside the range of normal.  I’ve never seen a giant ant here before.”  Rapid footsteps ran down the hall, past Ford’s door.  

               “Son of a-” someone shouted.  

               “That sounded like Fiddlenerd,” Stan said.  

               “Fiddleford.  And yes, it did.”  Ford walked over to the door and opened it, sticking his head out curiously.  He was immediately greeted by the sight of other people on his floor doing the exact same thing.  Everyone except for Fiddleford and Angie, who were standing at the end of the hall, in front of the large window.  Fiddleford was covered head to toe by his pajamas, but Angie was wearing her usual nightly attire of a thin T-shirt and athletic shorts.  Ford could see her shivering.  He took a hesitant step into the hallway.  The building was wracked with a loud shudder, prompting everyone else on the floor to abruptly close their doors.  “Fiddleford?  Angie?” Ford said cautiously.  The McGucket siblings didn’t respond; they appeared to be in an intense conversation. Ford walked towards them.

               “How’d they get so big?” Fiddleford whispered.  Angie put her hands on her hips.  

               “Fiddleford!”

               “I swear, these buggers were not this big when I got here!”

               “How many times do I have to tell ya, don’t bring yer experimental machinery to my school!  West Coast Tech ain’t as used to disasters as Backupsmore.  We don’t have a protocol fer giant mechanical ants in the parkin’ lot!”

               “Neither does Backupsmore.”

               “Well, Backupsmore has one fer giant mechanical cockroaches in the parkin’ lot, and it’s basically the same thing.”

               “What’s going on?” Ford asked.  Angie and Fiddleford spun around.

               “Howdy, Ford,” Angie said weakly.  “Just, uh, checkin’ out these robots here.”

               “Fiddleford, did Angie say that these robots are yours?”

               “Yes, they are, but I promise, they were normal ant-sized.  I don’t know how they got so big!”

               “People develop all kinds of experimental work in their dorm rooms, despite the administration insisting they shouldn’t,” Ford said.  “Maybe a few of your regular-sized ants snuck out of your bag and into the path of an enlarging ray of sorts?”

               “Enlargin’ ray,” Angie mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “Why do I feel like I live in a comic book?”

               “Hey, Ford, one of the ants just tore off the roof of a frat house!” Stan shouted, running over to Ford.  “The frat guys are still drunk, and they keep mooning the ant!  It’s amazing!”

               “Glad you’re enjoying wanton destruction,” Ford said idly.  

               “Duh.  Oh, hey Fiddlenerd.  Angie.”

               “Stan,” Fiddleford said with a polite nod.

               “Hello to you, too, Stanley,” Angie said, avoiding eye contact.  Stan frowned.

               “How’d you get on this floor?  I thought it was a guy floor.”

               “This dorm buildin’ is co-ed,” Angie answered.  She winced at a sickening crunch from outside.  “Lordy, Fiddleford, ya better have some sort of kill switch!”

               “Of course, of course.  It’s in yer room.”  Angie sighed and handed Fiddleford her room key.  “I’ll go shut ‘em off right now.”

               “Go!” Angie snapped.  She looked at Stan and Ford apologetically.  “Sorry.  He’s eccentric.”

               “He builds robots, huh?” Stan asked.  Ford noticed Stan’s eyes dipping south.  

               “Stanley!” Ford hissed, elbowing Stan.  Angie turned bright red and crossed her arms over her chest.

               “Rude!” she snarled.  

               “Can you blame me?” Stan asked, holding his hands up.

               “Yes!” Angie and Ford said together.

               “What’s more, her overprotective older brothers can blame you,” Ford said. Stan scratched the back of his head. “You should apologize.”

               “Sorry for checking you out,” Stan mumbled.  Angie flushed crimson again.

               “Well, it ain’t all right, but since ya apologized, I won’t tell Fidds ‘n Harper ‘n Lute.”  She cleared her throat.  “And yes, Fidds builds robots.”

               “Shit, no wonder you have a crush on him,” Stan said, punching Ford playfully.  “He’s nerdy, he builds killer robots, he serenades people with the banjo...he’s just your type!”

               “What makes you think I would enjoy a serenade with a banjo?” Ford asked.

               “‘Cause Fiddlenerd plays it.”

               “Ooh, Ford, you’ve got a crush on Fidds?” Angie whispered.  Ford looked away.  Angie cackled.  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”

               “Thank you.”

               “No problem!  I understand the desire fer keepin’ crushes under wraps.”  Angie nudged Ford.  “‘Specially if yer crush is yer friend’s older brother.”  The crashes from outside suddenly stopped.  “Oh, thank the Lord, Fidds turned ‘em off.  Now I got to figure out what we’ll do with ‘em.  Have a good rest of the night, you two!”  She walked away.  

               “Damn, I’ve gotta get in a co-ed dorm,” Stan muttered.  

               “You’ll have to get into a college, first.”

               “I have my ways,” Stan said dismissively, setting off down the hallway. Ford followed him.

               “You are not staying with me year-round.”

               “That’s what you think.”

[reddie-honey]

92 TRUHTS

tiarules: once you have been tagged you are supposed to write 92 truths about yourself. at the end, choose 25 people to tag! (or just tag your pals or idk)

I got tagged by @anonymousletter thank sweetpie (I MISS YOU COME TO SEE ME)

LAST

[1] drink: Water

[2] phone call: My dad

[3] text message:  My best friend 

[4] song you listened to: Green Light -Lorde

[5] time you cried: I don´t know….. two weeks ago? Maybe?

HAVE YOU EVER

[6] dated someone twice: What’s dating? (NO)

[7] been cheated on: Nope

[8] kissed someone and regretted it:  What’s kissing? (yes, I have)

[9] lost someone special: Yes

[10] been depressed: Yes, but without a diagnosis

[11] gotten drunk and thrown up: I’m the mom friend mate, my job is to CLEAN my friends’ puke

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: 

[12] (any shade of) Blue

[13] Purple

[14] Yellow

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

[15] made new friends: Yes!!!!!

[16] fallen out of love: What’s love? Stop using weird words please (NO)

[17] laughed until you cried: Yes, of course, always.

[18] found out someone was talking about you: I would remember it if it’s the case, so nop.

[19] met someone who changed you: In the last year? I don’t think so.

[20] found out who your true friends are: I already knew who they were (I LOVE YOU GUYS)

[21] kissed someone on your facebook list: You’re using weird words again (STOP)

GENERAL

[22] how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: I don’t know the exact number, but a lot of them.

[23] do you have any pets: I wish :(

[24] do you want to change your name: Nah, I like my name.

[25] what did you do for your last birthday: I went out and had dinner with my family, later I watched a movie (THE BOY) with my friends

[26] what time did you wake up: monday to friday: 6:00 am. saturday and sunday: 9:00 am.

[27] what were you doing at midnight last night: I was dreaming about donuts

[28] name something you cannot wait for: I CAN’T WAIT FOR THEM TO *** **!

[29] when was the last time you saw your mother: About 30 min ago.

[30] what is one thing you wish you could change about your life: The politicians, the president and the economic situation of my country (stolen from @anonymousletter)

[31] what are you listening to right now: The sound of the washing machine (?

[32] have you ever talked to a person named tom: Nope

[33] something that is getting on your nerves: My country’s situation and my university situation

[34] most visited website: Tumblr and Youtube (I’m not even sorry)

[35] elementary: Colegio Nuestra Señora de Lourdes

[36] high school: Go to #35  

[37] college: (I HOPE) Carabobo’s University (UC)

[38] hair color: Dark blonde/ light brown (mix them and you’ll get my hair color)

[39] long or short hair: It’s currently long, but I’m going to cut it as soon as I can.

[40] do you have a crush on someone: …Maybe?….why?

[41] what do you like about yourself? I like everything about myself, some things more than others, about both my physical appearance and my personality, but I’m working on it

[42] piercings: No pity nope

[43]blood type: B+ 

44] nickname: Nessa/Nessie

[45] relationship status: Single as a pringle

[46] zodiac sign: LEO

[47] pronouns: She/her please

[48] fav tv show: HARD QUESTION BYE

[49] tattoos: Nope

[50] right or left handed: right handed 

[51] surgery: No

[52] piercing: Is this a déjà-vu? (Go to #42)

[53] best friend: Yes, I have one (I know that’s not what you’re asking but i’m not putting her name out here, she doesn’t even have a blog). I also LOVE WITH ABSOLUTE MADDNESS these two little rays of sunshine and moonlight: @anonymousletter and @trashofdoom

[54] sport: I used to play Tennis, I also was in a swim team.

[55] vacation: Travel around the world and visit as many countries as possible.

[56] pair of trainers:  A pair of old black ballerinas  

RIGHT NOW

[57] eating: Nothing, will do in a moment.

[58] drinking: Nothing

[59] i’m about to: Scroll through my dashboard/ have dinner.

[60] listening to: THE SOUND OF THE WASHING MACHINE

[61] waiting for: I’M WAITING FOR THEM TO *** **! 

[62] want: to get in university, a job, money, for them to *** **, that all the problems of my country disappear, global peace ( BUENAS NOCHES POLIEDRO)

[63] get married: Yes, I’m counting on that

64] career: Medicine

WHICH IS BETTER

[65] hugs or kisses: BOTH (I LOVE CUDDLES)

[66] lips or eyes: EYES

[67] shorter or taller: I don’t really think that’s important

[68] older or younger: I don’t mind as long as there isn’t pedophile or a huge gap between us, I’d like to be the younger tho.

[69] romantic or spontaneous: ROMANTICALY SPONTANEOUS

[70] nice arms or nice stomach: I.don’t.care

[71] sensitive or loud: Sensitive please

[72] hook up or relationship: I’m a relationship type of girl

[73] troublemaker or hesitant: Both, both is good

HAVE YOU EVER

[74] kissed a stranger? N O 

[75] drank hard liquor? Yes

[76] lost glasses/contact lenses?  Nope, I’m very careful with my glasses

[77] turned someone down:  Yes

[78] sex on first date? WEIRD WORDS AGAIN!!! (N-O)

79] broken someone’s heart?: I think so

80] had your own heart broken? Not really

[81] been arrested? Nope

[82] cried when someone died? Well, yes of course

[83] fallen for a friend: Nope

DO YOU BELIEVE IN

[84] yourself? Hell yes.

[85] miracles? Yes

[86] love at first sight? Sometimes

[87] santa claus? In a perfect world? Yes I do

[88] kiss on the first date? Yes, why not.

[89] angels? Yes yes yes

OTHER

[90] current best friend’s name: Not telling you, sorry. All I’m saying is that it starts with an E.

[91] eye colour: Dark brown 

[92] favourite movie: HARD QUESTION BYE

I tag @alw4ys-you @shadyshit91 @alarrylarrie @soul-angelo because i love them :)

[eschapters]

Chapter 19: Experiments are Strange

The amber streaks of the ruby-colored skies were now signalling the approach of sunset. As a result, the five had decided to find a place to stop around. They all had stopped at a lush forest, which was full of apple trees and grape vines. It was almost as if they had stumbled into a fruit garden. Slowly but surely, the skies had soon turned dark with the stars spread around the sky once again. Holly had fallen right asleep, wrapped up by Venere's tail and head. Fabian had scooted next to Venere in attempts to feel secure. Alair and Etalt were the only ones left awake. Alair watched the two Bounded Viabilities huddle against Venere and fall into a peaceful dream. His eyes had fell upon Holly, who looked like she would never wake up from her dream. "...What happened to her parents?" When the question had reached her ears Etalt, who was sitting next to Alair, had looked up at him, "...Huh?" "She had parents, right?" Alair had kept his eyes on Holly, "...Why is she alone now?" Before actually starting to explain, Etalt had took in the feeling of fresh air, "Well... They aren't as nice as Holly describes them. She just loves them a lot," she looked over at Venere, "From what Raika says, Venere was a dog once. Holly and Venere were growing up together," her gaze had shifted back to those cyan eyes, "Do you really wanna hear the whole story?" Alair nodded. "Holly had found Venere as a german shepard puppy on the streets. She had always wanted a puppy, so she took him home. She gave him a name and she loved him... But then, Holly knew that she was gonna get in trouble for bringing him home... So she hid him right outside of her house." Venere had gaped open its mouth before falling right back asleep. "Holly would always visit him and stay out for a long time just to play with him... She knew better than to be out for long, but she loved him way too much to leave him for a long time. Every time she would come home, she would receive a fresh cut on her arm or her face... But she endured it because she knew that Venere needed someone to take care of him," Etalt had cleared her throat, "She and Venere had built a strong bond together. When Venere was big enough, he would always stay by Holly's side and threaten anything that would kill her. It was then one day that her father had tried to stab her after Holly's mother had ran away." Alair had looked over at the three. They were still soundly asleep. "Holly had received some damage, about to give in... Until Venere had ran in, mercilessly attacking her dad. He had heard her screams and cries, and he had responded to it. Together, the two had fled from that house for good... Until they had met the one who had created this world. The creator had asked, 'What do you wish for?' Holly had responded, 'Eternal happiness, miss.' And from that day on, Holly and Venere had lived together in that mansion." Hearing the story had made Alair softly smile at the embodiment of glee and the flytrap canine, "...Guess they're really lucky to have met." "Even though tragic stories like these aren't really my cup of tea, that's probably about right," Etalt had shifted around before resting her head on her hand, "But ya gotta feel somewhat bad for the kid after all that, right?" "Mhm..." The white-haired girl got up, dusting herself off, "Alright. Go to sleep." Instead of listening, Alair had supported himself with his arms so that he would be able to get up if needed, "Where are you going?" "Nowhere. I'll just get a few apples or grapes, and then I'll sleep." Seeing that Etalt had walked off, Alair had looked at the fire. Alair's surroundings had suddenly started to peel away into a frenzy of lights all around them. Holly, Fabian, and Venere were awake and watching the lights that danced around them. Next to him was that same person from his previous flashback. "One... Two..." the person had counted, "This is good, right?" Reality had rebuilt itself around him, reverting to the scene of everyone but him sleeping under the place that was only lit by a simple fire. The flashback had caused Alair to doze off as a smile had crept onto his face. ===================== The gentle rays of sunlight had once again tapped Alair's face. He slowly opened an eye as the sun had welcomed him into the morning. He stretched his arms before stifling a yawn, "Morning, guys-" The moment he had opened his eyes fully, Alair had stopped. He was the only one left there. Alair had pushed himself up, looking around, "Guys?" No response came. He decided to go further into the forest. Once he was some distance within, Alair felt something crunch beneath his foot. It was revealed to be an average-sized dark magenta petal when he lifted his foot off the ground. Because of how suspicious it seemed, Alair had decided to follow it. The petals also seemed to resemble the ones around Venere's neck. Alair's bag had seemed to lag along behind his back. The path seemed to go on for hours and hours. To his relief, a huge building had came into view at the end of the path. The building was huge, as stated above. It was vast white in color and now windows could be seen at all. Smoke rose from the roof's pipes and filled the air. Alair paused for a while with a thought, "Are they here? ...What would Etalt do?" He walked over to the entrance before studying the area. There really wasn't much to describe it. It just seemed completely bland to Alair himself. Alair stepped forward to active the sliding doors in front of him. He stopped, hearing a voice. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." The voice seemed to belong to a young female child. It was familiar, but it also wasn't. Upon hearing the voice, Alair had stepped back before looking for the speaker. "You can't see me. Don't try to look for me," the voice echoed throughout his head, "'Who am I,' you ask? That, I will not answer." "...Uh... W-Well, that's fine!" Alair called out, "But... Where do I enter, then?" "...Where else? The vents." "..Vents...?" "Look around." Alair ran over to the side of the building. He skidded to a stop when a small opening had came into view. The opening, however, was blocked by a wired frame. "Open it," the voice urged him. He bent down opening the frame before crawling inside. "Good. Now remember my directions," the voice said, "If you want help, then find your first ally here. She is also in the vents." "...Huh? You mean Etalt? Really?" Alair went along, crawling through the vent. "Yes. She's there. She's a little far, but you'll find her soon. Have you ever tried to use the Anamnesis Pearl to get in contact with anyone? I am currently contacting you with this pearl. "...Oh, right!" Alair stopped, reaching his arm into his pocket before pulling out the green sphere, "...What do I do...?" "Oh yeah, a mortal like you is really brainless when it comes to this stuff." "Hey! Rude, much?" "It's true," the voice stated, "Now think of what you want you want to say and who you want to say it to..." "...Got it, I hope..." "Good. I won't be able to talk once you contact another person," the voice whispered, "Nice talking, Alair." Alair had raised his head, "How do you know my- OW!" he rubbed his head right after it had hit the ceiling, "...GEHH!!!" He groaned before continuing to crawl through the vent. Throughout the whole time he crawled, Alair had tried to communicate with both Holly and Fabian. It failed, of course since he couldn't reach them at all. He groaned again once he had realized that the only person he could try to call was Etalt. Alair took in a deep breath before attempting to think. He tried to think of Etalt herself, "...Etalt... Etalt, are you there?" He waited... No response again. He concluded that he would have to venture around the area on his own, until someone had spoken. "LIAR?! WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO DO THIS?!" "FINALLY! THANK LORD I CAN HEAR YOU!" "WHY ARE YOU HERE, IDIOT?!" "I... Kinda got worried... Where are you?" "...Stay where you are. I think I can find you." And so Alair waited. And waited. Until he heard the sounds of something hitting against the vent. Alair had been greeted by those glowing green eyes and heart again. "ETA-" "SHHHH!!" Etalt hissed, "You'll get us caught!" "...Sorry." "...Look. I haven't found 'em yet, but..." Etalt scoffed, "Now that you're here, you can lead I guess." "...Wait, what happened to Holly, Venere, and Fabian?" Alair had asked. "...Let's just say they got kidnapped or so," Etalt sighed, "This is why I don't fall asleep on other nights." "...Okay, I get you," Alair had started to crawl through the vent again, "But why are they here?" Etalt raised an eyebrow, "Scientists. Contraptions. Lab. WHAT DO YOU THINK?" "...I see where this is going. The sooner we get them out, then... the better." As they passed along, they saw various scenes beneath themselves. In one scene, a scientist was testing out experiences while another was testing out a fluid for trees. In another, some assistants were speaking with each other. The two had stopped to look down at one scene in particular that had a seal laying on a rock. Alair chuckled softly, "...Hey, this is actually cute for on-" And then the seal had turned around. Its eyebrows were thick, its eyes were big and crossing, and its teeth stuck out like a caveman. As soon as Alair saw its face, he shivered a little before going on, "...I take it back." "Everything is not what it seems," Etalt muttered. "...Ah... Right..." Alair stopped again, looking down. "...See another seal?" Etalt tried to look down as well. "...No... No, look at this!" Alair had scooted himself over to allow Etalt to see what he was seeing. Within a wide-spaced cylinder container that had reached up to the ceiling was a giant lizard, who was almost as brown as the cold and hard soil. The lizard snapped its jaws, crawling around the container. "...A Komodo Dragon...?" Alair now felt as if his breath had been taken away, "...Why is it..." "...You really wanna know," Etalt had said it more of a statement than an answer. "Of course!" "Why don't you set it free to find out?" "Are you crazy?! What if it bites off my h-" Etalt had covered his mouth as a male teenager with black hair had walked in. The boy had a jacket that had a dark blue stripe at the side of his sleeves. He walked up to the container placing a hand on it. "...I'll get you out. I don't mean any harm." The lizard had gaped its mouth, breathing out fire. However, the fire did not damage the glass at all. "Calm down. I don't wanna hurt you." "...It's Logan, holy shi-" "Shut up!" Etalt had hissed again. Logan backed away, leaving the room. They were both able to hear the door slide close with a satisfying click. Etalt had pushed open the wired cover, "Alright. Down you go!" Alair gawked, "Me?! You have more chances of surviving!" "Guess who has to stop learning how to be a wuss!" Etalt had pulled him closer to the opening. "Guess who has to stop being closed minded!" Alair had tugged Etalt closer as well. "You're the one who has to learn how to fight!" "Maybe if you understood my situation better, then you'd know how I feel!" As the two argued, they pulled each other closer and closer to the opening. "Oh, yeah? Maybe someone has to stop being a nosy little tw-" "Hypocrite! You tell me and some others to watch our language but then here you are, about to use those kinds of words!" "Unlike you, I ain't a goodie two-shoes twenty-four seven! I ain't tryna give others random hugs when they don't need it!" "Seriously? At least I don't punch random strangers without warning!" "At least I don't talk back to the first person I met in this darned world!" "Oh, so you wanna put it that way?! At least I'm not a dwarf that everyone depises and treats like a mon-" Before Alair could finish he had been sent falling down the opening while screaming, but not without dragging Etalt down with him. Coincidentally and conveniently, the two had landed on a water-filled couch. Etalt looked up before scoffing yet again, "Look whatcha did, ya wuss!" "Okay, okay, can we just... Not?" Alair groaned, "We're both down now, so why don't we just work together?" She was about to reject, but then she realized the distance they had fallen from. The distance had been enough to kill them both, had the couch not been there, "...Fine. Alright." Alair walked up to the giant cylinder container. Looking closely inside, he saw that the cylinder was surrounded by a blue forcefield. The lizard crawled up to him, baring its teeth. When Etalt walked up, the lizard stopped baring its teeth as it looked at her. "...Huh. How do we get them out?" Alair looked at the container from the bottom to the top. "...Well... Maybe there's a switch around here... Just maybe," Etalt walked around the room, "...Why don't you help me look for it?" "Why not?" Alair searched around the room for the switch. He stopped across a switch that had said, "Do not press." "Maybe this will work! It DOES say 'do not press!'" Alair rammed his hand on to the switch. Ironically, it didn't free the creature. It did, however, open a screen in front of Alair. The screen contained little bugs, wearing grass skirts and dancing like they were in Hawaii. When Alair had tried to reach into the screen to pick one up, they all started to scream. "...Uh... nope," Alair pressed the switch again, not sure of what to think. "...Found it?" Etalt called from the other side of the room. "...Nah." Alair continued along the room, looking for the switch. He stopped at a cabinet before opening it. There were a lot of things within the cabinet, such as cleaning tools and even medicine. Alair closed the cabinet, finding no use to the supplies within. He came across a yellow curtain after before pulling it aside. It was another button that was labeled, "Press At Your Own Risk." "Maybe this one!" Alair pushed it. All at once, part of a wall had been opened. Puppies and kittens had came running up to Alair. He chuckled, bending down to pet all of them. "Aww... These are so cute!" Alair laughed as the puppies and kittens piled up on top of him. This had called Etalt's attention. She looked over at him, her eyebrows lowering as she crossed her arms, "Liar. Put those back where they came from..." "But they're h-" "NOW." Alair got up, stepping back, "Come on, Etalt! Don't be a killjoy! What could possibly-" A kitten had hissed, causing Alair to look behind him. He quickly lifted his foot upon realizing his mistake, "Woah, hey! Sorry! I didn't mean it!" The kitten had arched its back before its skin had ripped apart. The kitten had grown into a large feline-like creature. "SPOKE TOO SOON!!" Alair had screeched, fleeing from the feline. Hearing his voice, Etalt groaned. She turned around, taking a small device from her pocket and flashing it at the feline. A red dot was visible next to it. The former kitten had leapt on it, as well as the surrounding kittens. Alair quickly ran back to the button, slamming his fist on it. The animals rushed back inside the opening they had came from as the opening had closed in. There was no trace of their appearance. "This is NOT what I expected a lab to be like!" Alair panted. "Well, ya get what ya get... Now let me press the switch this time!" Etalt had moved a pile of books aside, revealing a switch on the floor. She bent down to press it. Out of nowhere, swords and kutlases had been sent flying from side to side. Alair screeched, attempting to run to the other side of the room. Doing so had only resulted in a sword nearly slicing his chest. Luckily, the sword had only made a clean uppercut right on his jacket. "Crud," Etalt pressed the switch again, and the swords had immediately dropped right where they were. Etalt walked over to Alair, looking around him for any cuts, "It got your jacket, huh." Alair looked down to see the clean slice that the sword had made. The gray shirt he wore underneath was now exposed, "At least I always wear two layers underneath..." "I think you can get that fixed at Glister Bay or Sequía Village," Etalt stated, "Just... worry about that later." Etalt had walked to the cabinet that Alair had looked at earlier. She placed everything within to the side before reaching in a hand to touch something. The blue forcefield that had surrounded the cylinder container had dissolved, leaving just the glass. The two both went back to the cylinder container, being stared at by the komodo dragon. Etalt had knocked on the glass, "...Hey, lizard-breath. The forcefield's down. Come out." The komodo dragon only stared. "Hey, come on. Go. You're free." Still nothing. "Maybe he needs to be motivated..." Alair had ran to the first switch, pressing it. The bugs had emerged again, continuing their dance. Alair grabbed one, not caring if it screamed or not. He ran over to the glass cylinder and raised the bug to the lizard. "Hey, big guy! You want this, don't you?" Alair had called. "Liar, what are ya doing? Those things don't eat insects!" "They eat them when they're younger!" Alair had said, "Besides, I guess trying to irritate this thing is the best idea I have!" "Liar, you're gonna get us all killed!" The komodo dragon roared, gaping its mouth again. Fire had built up within the back of its throat as it opened it. Alair had dropped the bug, running out of the way while grabbing Etalt's wrist and dragging her along. The reptile had let loose a demolishing flamethrower, burning down the glass in front of it. The hole that had been made was just enough for the komodo dragon to fit through. It released another blast of fire, burning down the wall all the way at the other side. Alair now seemed somewhat concerned, "...Uh... Is this supposed to happen?" "Mhm. He'll burn down the place, and then we'll get Holly, Faris, and Venere out of here." "I thought his name was Fabian." "It's a bit of a long story. I'll tell you later." Within the time they used to hold a small conversation, nearly the entire room had caught on fire. Alair ran over to the second switch, pressing it. The puppies and kittens had ran out from the opening and out the entrance. "...Pacifying frick," Etalt muttered. "Hey, what could I have do- Okay, no. Let's just find the others." The two ran out of the room, not bothering to stop at anything that could've possibly came their way.

[aion-rsa]

The Buy Pile: Bad People & Bad Decisions Make For Good Comics

WHAT IS THE BUY PILE?

Every week Hannibal Tabu (winner of the 2012 Top Cow Talent Hunt/blogger/novelist/poet/jackass on Twitter/head honcho of Komplicated) grabs a whole lotta comics. These periodicals are quickly sorted (how) into two piles — the “buy” pile (a small pile most weeks, comprised of planned purchases) and the “read” pile (often huge, often including comics that are really crappy but have some value to stay abreast of). Thursday afternoons you’ll be able to get his thoughts (and they’re just the opinions of one guy, so calm down, and here’s some common definitions used in the column) about all of that … which goes something like this …

THE BUY PILE FOR JANUARY 18, 2017

Curse Words #1 (Image Comics)

Jump from the Read Pile. The lure of leisure time and scantily clad romantic partners have felled conquerors of many stripes, from the Zentraedi in “Robotech” to … well, the Invid in “Robotech.” In this crafty new book, an imperialist’s minion gets a change of heart when he experiences New York City. That part is very engaging, and when the bill inevitably comes due that leads to some solid action and the truth needing protection in an extreme fashion. Charles Soule, Ryan Browne, Jordan Boyd, Michael Parkinson, Chris Crank and Shawn DePasquale turned in one entertaining work and watching this struggle between demons and slightly better angels is a great start.

“Grand Passion” #3 breaks all the rules and loves every minute of it.

Grand Passion #3 (Dynamite Entertainment)

Jump from the Read Pile. Not at all safe for work, this twisted gunpoint love story has everything you need to get engaged in the characters and resolve the plot in this issue while pushing you towards the next one. Spoilers would abound with discussing the details, but James Robinson, Tom Feister, Dave Curiel and Simon Bowland deliver a bawdy, enjoyable romp.

WHAT’S THE PROGNOSIS?

New ideas getting their game face together? Gotta love that, especially with so much cool new stuff happening.

THIS WEEK’S READ PILE

Honorable Mentions: Stuff worth noting, even if it’s not good enough to buy

Answers start to come in “Mosaic” #4 with the help of a brain significantly better than the series’ protagonist. There’s a real holodeck feel to it, as a lot of nothing happened just to transfer some information and do a bit of character work. That dragged the plot, which wasn’t so good, but the building of Morris Sackett as a character is fantastic.

Maximus the Mad is like a bored frat boy Loki in “Uncanny Inhumans” #18 where he comes up with a plan that only involves a little bit of murder and mayhem but he figures will be wholly forgiven. Hanging out with two of the worst Inhuman villains aside from himself, this has the feeling of a good crime comedy but hits the brakes sometime during the second act, leaving things unresolved. An improvement with the focus on character, but not enough to make it home.

“WWE” #1 was interestingly written, presenting the story behind the story as a story, reframing actual events in wrestling … “history,” we can call it. In any case, this behind the scenes look plays out as if the characters on the screen are the same when the cameras are off, carrying the scripted nature of the stories to a whole new level. On one hand, that’s brilliant and amazing, especially with the Seth Rollins characterization. On another hand, many of the shirtless characters herein were difficult to distinguish from each other, and that made the story seem to go by in a blur at points.

“Captain America Sam Wilson” #18 took a long time to make what seems like an obvious decision (as stated by almost everybody who matters in these pages), which made its titular character terrible even in the eyes of many people closest to him. It also had a strategy from a young hero that bordered on stupidity, so that was a problem. What was good was Steve Rogers, dancing around double entendres so much that Ben Kenobi might pause and then applaud respectfully. The ideas are better than the execution, and if this issue is right that the cause matters more than the consequences, that’s something to like.

Just when “Star Wars Doctor Aphra” #3 was getting good, after some character development (including her full name) and finding out just how dangerous a single Wookiee can be, when the page count caught up to it, cutting the story off at the climax of a second act. Written as trade bait? Maybe. This was close to making the mark, though, as each cast member did some of what makes them awesome.

The “Meh” Pile Not good enough to praise, not bad enough to insult, they just kind of happened … “Harbinger Renegade” #3, “Aquaman” #15, “Revolutionaries” #1, “Trinity” #5, “Cage” #4, “Hook Jaw” #2, “Green Arrow” #15, “Squadron Supreme” #15, “Jeff Steinberg Champion Of Earth” #5, “Dollface” #1, “Lucifer” #14, “Spider-Gwen” #16, “Black Hammer Giant-Sized Annual” #1, “Venom” #3, “Superman” #15, “Deadpool And The Mercs For Money” #7, “Horizon” #7, “Ultimates 2” #3, “Justice League” #13, “Black Widow” #10, “Athena Voltaire And The Volcano Goddess” #3, “Suicide Squad Most Wanted El Diablo And Amanda Waller” #6, “Divinity III Aric Son Of The Revolution” #1, “Avengers” #3.1, “Raven” #5, “Unbelievable Gwenpool” #10, “Battlestar Galactica Gods And Monsters” #3, “Mighty Captain Marvel” #1, “Justice League Vs Suicide Squad” #5, “Gamora” #2, “Doctor Who The Ninth Doctor” #9, “Patsy Walker A.K.A. Hellcat” #14, “Harley Quinn” #12, “Kill Or Be Killed” #5, “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” #11, “James Bond Hammerhead” #4, “Nightwing” #13, “Black Panther World Of Wakanda” #3, “Generation Zero” #6, “Star-Lord” #2, “Cougar And Cub” #1, “All-New X-Men” #17, “Justice League Of America The Ray Rebirth” #1, “U.S. Avengers” #2, “Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency The Salmon Of Doubt” #4, “Invincible Iron Man” #3, “He-Man Thundercats” #4, “Night’s Dominion” #5, “Green Lanterns” #15, “Few” #1, “Batman” #15.

No, just … no … These comics? Not so much …

Since “Clone Conspiracy” #4 and “Amazing Spider-Man” #23 have so many of the same story elements, they may as well have the same review. Of course, trusting maniacs and murderers goes as it inevitably has to after pages and pages of moralistic hand wringing and prevarication. These books are so predictably doomed that when the other shoe finally drops, it’s almost a relief to know there’s just the punching and attempted murder to get through now. Subpar concept, adequate execution.

SO, HOW BAD WAS IT?

Not bad.

WINNERS AND LOSERS

Those jumps, though … let’s call this week a winner.

THE BUSINESS

Well, there are 22 pages of a new 72 page web comic on line, there’s another one coming next month while a third just got collected for sale, 44 pages of story for just three bucks through Black History Month. All that and asking the question who is David Chance? It was a big weekend at the Black Comix Arts Festival in San Francisco, and if you join the mailing list there’s free stuff in it for you, to boot!

The writer of this column isn’t just a jerk who spews his opinions — he writes stuff too. A lot. Like what? You can get “Project Wildfire: Enter Project Torrent” (a collected superhero web comic), “The Crown: Ascension” and “Faraway,” five bucks a piece, or spend a few more dollars and get “New Money” #1 from Canon Comics, the rambunctious tale of four multimillionaires running wild in Los Angeles, a story in “Watson and Holmes Volume 2” co-plotted by “2 Guns” creator Steven Grant, two books from Stranger Comics — “Waso: Will To Power” and the sequel “Waso: Gathering Wind” (the tale of a young man who had leadership thrust upon him after a tragedy), or “Fathom Sourcebook” #1, “Soulfire Sourcebook” #1, “Executive Assistant Iris Sourcebook” #1 and “Aspen Universe Sourcebook,” the official guides to those Aspen Comics franchises. Love these reviews? It’d be great if you picked up a copy. Hate these reviews? Find out what this guy thinks is so freakin’ great. There’s free sample chapters too, and all proceeds to towards the care and maintenance of his kids … oh, and to buy comic books, of course. There’s also a bunch of great stuff — fantasy, superhero stuff, magical realism and more — available from this writer on Amazon. What are you waiting for? Go buy a freakin’ book already!

Got a comic you think should be reviewed in The Buy Pile? If we get a PDF of a fairly normal length comic (i.e. “less than 64 pages”) by no later than 24 hours before the actual issue arrives in stores (and sorry, we can only review comics people can go to stores and buy), we guarantee the work will get reviewed, if remembered. Physical comics? Geddouttahere. Too much drama to store with diminishing resources. If you send it in more than two days before comics come out, the possibility of it being forgotten increases exponentially. Oh, you should use the contact form as the CBR email address hasn’t been regularly checked since George W. Bush was in office. Sorry!

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