#it's really nice and convenient and my landlords live in the other half of the duplex and are chill as hell (for landlords)

[scorpioracha]

Jisung x reader, exhibitionism, slight reader x Minho, perv! Jisung, open ended ending

Perv! Jisungie has been running through my head rampantly. Like this baby gives me such service top exhibitionist energy that I can’t help but to imagine him wanting to take you anywhere he thinks he can get away with it. Lmk if you likeee I’ve never really written something like this before 🫶🏾

Movie night with the boys starts off innocent enough, a casual sleepy affair with everyone sated from the dinner Minho cooked and sprawled across the various couches in the living room. You weren’t even really sure what was playing and you couldn’t say you were interested. You were hoping for the fault in our stars but they all wiped the floor with you in the first round of rock paper scissors leaving you pouting and uninterested. It wasn’t anything new, you never won anyways but you were hopping someone like Chan did, instead of being forced to watch one of Hyunjin’s many many historical art piece documentaries. No one was really watching but at least Chan and Felix tried to feign interest, letting out little hums and questioning hmm’s when it felt appropriate. Minho had left halfway through to do dishes, Jeongin was scrolling through Pinterest and Changbin was fast asleep in the comfort of his room, the only one brave enough to reject the movie completely. Seungmin had been sent to the convenience store an hour ago which was suspicious because the closest one was a five minute walk.

That just left you with the yapper,the mediators,the iPad kid and your lovely boyfriend who went through the trouble of getting you all nice and cozy with blankets because these heathens didn’t believe in heat before January. If they weren’t idols they’d make excellent landlords, you rolled your eyes. Despite the annoyances—if hyunjin ever pulled this shit again you were going to turn his jiniret into a smoothie—it was a nice time. You’d never admit it to their faces but you missed them. With all the schedules and comebacks it was hard to remember a time where they didn’t look half dead or were asleep. It was even nicer getting to see Jisung. The two of you had spent the better half of the movie side eyeing each other and giggling about Chan’s lackluster responses, the single father jokes almost blew your cover from how hard you were trying not to laugh. The monotonous drone of the narrative and Hyunjin’s consistent chatter lulled you into a hazy state of dozing off. The world growing pleasantly fuzzy as you laid your head on Jisung’s shoulder. It was perfect really, the lights were off, shades were drawn and he was rubbing your head in a way that had you nudging into his touch, scooting closer until you ended up in his lap. He grabbed the blanket and fluffed it a bit so you were both wrapped up tight and your head was resting in the crook of his neck.

The touches started off innocent enough. The hand that was rubbing your head ran down your back, massaging your hips and trailing down your thighs. This didn’t sound off any alarms, Jisung had always been pretty tactile and you were still dozing a bit. That was until his hand snaked around your waist, leaving feather light touches on your tummy, gentle adjusting you so you were more so straddling than cuddling him. You hummed inquisitively but he just shushed you and went back to rubbing your back. It felt nice, having his hands on you, they were warm and you were weak so you all but melted into his arms. You weren’t sure when gentle caresses turned into poorly disguised groping but you couldn’t help but gasp when his hands trailed back towards your stomach settling on your pelvis just below the hem of your sweats.

“W-what are you doing, sungie?”you whisper in his ear. You could feel him smile before you see it, all teeth and all trouble.

“ ‘m bored” is his only response as he rubs soft circles with his thumb across your hip bones, his grip only tightening when you begin to squirm.

“Wanna be good for me?”he purrs into your ear. the feeling of his breath fanning your neck alone has you trying to hide a shudder but you find your nodding anyways.

“Say it”he goads, digging his thumbs deeper into your hips making you suppress a whine.

“Say you want me to touch you”he starts.

“I-I want you to touch me”you say in a low tone, eyes darting around the room trying to make sure now wasn’t the time people decided to become social.

“In front front of all the members”he finishes. You flush and shake your head a bit.

“I-I Jisung—“

“Say it” he says. the glint in his eyes had gotten much darker, or maybe the hue of the tv had shifted. you felt the swirl of arousal begin to stir in the pit of your stomach. you’ve played the staring game with Jisung before time and time again. and if the earlier rock paper scissors was any indication.

You weren’t too good at winning.

“want..want you to touch me..’front of all y’er members”you mumble quickly, feeling your face grow hot and your stomach sink just a little bit. His grin widens and he rewards you by fulling dipping his hand under the waist band of your sweats, letting his fingertips rest on your clothed cunt.

“Really”he whispers, going for coy but he just looked hungry. “Didn’t know my girl was so needy”

There wasn’t much more time wasted talking as there was energy going into making sure you didn’t get caught. You isolated between pretending to sleep with your head on his chest to cover your face and inevitably needing to come up for air by pretending to stir restlessly.

and Jisung wasn’t playing fair.

Your panties were all but forced to the side as he rubbed deep gentle circles on your clit. and it just made you all the more aware of sound. Hyunjin talking, Chan and Felix now deep into their own conversation, games coming from Jeongin’s phone and Minho occasionally dropping cutlery in the kitchen and cursing. You could also hear your own heartbeat and the squelching of your cunt as Jisung bullied two fingers inside you, resulting in a strangled grunt and biting his shoulder. your stomach dropped and your blood ran cold but Jisung didn’t stop. Instead he curled his fingers just right in the way that had you wanting to crumple right there. his other thumb found his way to your clit and you were panting in his ear desperately trying to find the words slow down. Your head was thrown over his shoulder and all you saw was the hardwood floor, the dining room table and the glint of the kitchen light seeping in. your thighs were burning and you couldn’t tell whether you were chasing the pleasure or running away from it. and Jisung has the nerve to look unphased. his eyes were focused on the documentary and he was even engaging in Hyunjin’s pointless debates on modernism and whatever the fuck Picasso did and you have tears in your eyes from trying so hard not to make a sound. Jisung is hard, you can feel it, you know he’s getting off to it and the minute he hears a sniffle and feels your tear on his cheek, it’s over. You’re shifted a little bit to the left, he spreads your legs a bit wider and he’s thrusting his fingers into you with abandon. His face is still perfectly neutral while you’re falling apart just out of everyone’s line of sight.

Well, almost everyone.

You hear the hardwood floor creak just barely as Minho pads back in. In a state of panic your eyes shoot up and meet his, teary and damn near crossing. He goes to speak, he tilts his head, and he stops in his tracks. you’ve never made such intense eye contact with Minho before, it’s like you can see every thought run across his eyes in real time and fuck you’re still crying. they darken significantly before they settle on a sick understanding that has you feeling nauseous and hot and clenching tight around Jisung’s fingers. Minho’s eyes never leave yours and you almost feel like this was planned in a way. You wanna ask, but before you can Jisung is pinching your clit and you’re cumming around his fingers with an aborted cry. mid way through your high you realize the hand around your mouth is smaller than usual and the one petting your hair has sharp nails that Jisung doesn’t.

It’s Minho announcing that he’s back that finally gets everyone’s attention. The boys seem to all snap out of their own worlds in tandem and welcome him back with varying degrees of enthusiasm. You’re just happy to have the attention fully off you for a bit because you’re still shaking and your eyes are red and-

“Hey y/n, you alright?”Felix asks with a worried pout. you don’t even have time to think about an acceptable answer before Minho is rubbing your head again, those same sharp nails tracing your scalp and saying.

“She’s alright, just got a little banged up from helping me in the kitchen”

[epersonae]

Taro, papyrus, aloe vera!

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

depends when I talked to them last; new job if I haven't caught them up on that (been about six months), and if it's someone who wasn't caught up on that then probably also gay pirates (and my fic writing if it's someone who I'd be cool talking to about it). otherwise, gardening stuff probably, trip to the renaissance fair a couple of weekends ago, the tattoo I got last month. folks usually want to know how my elderly cat Creamsicle is doing (he continues to just keep going despite everything), I know there are people who would ask how traumaversary season is going (it's fuckin rough tbh). and then my current knitting project, a cute top in a cotton-linen blend, green with kinda turquoise highlights.

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

I use Tidal and it doesn't have an "on repeat" feature, but I just hit shuffle on the "July 2022" list and ha, it's High on a Rocky Ledge by Moondog, which HELLO OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH PLAYLIST. It's so strange and melancholy, and ofc I see Stede sitting up at the front of the ship with tears in his eyes murmuring "my family's here at sea now", which ok sure not quite yet bud, but he's got the spirit.

(wow those monthly mixes really are something; you can see from space the switch from March 2022, in which I bounced between three different Mountain Goats albums, to April 2022, at which point it's All Gay Pirates)

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

aw beans, that's a hell of a question to consider while listening to that question, because so many of those things are now tinged with an immense sadness.

I very much want to go out into "my" (to be fair probably this rental duplex's) garden and be able to pick an entire bouquet of flowers and put them in a vase on my dining room table. There aren't a lot of flowers in the yard here, mostly big established shrubs (and an ENORMOUS cedar tree in the back) and other non-flowering plants, and I want to be here long enough to plant lots of flowers that will come up from spring through fall. I did plant bulbs last fall and got some lovely tulips and daffodils in the spring, plus a few lilies, but the squirrels got a lot of the bulbs!

[sankyeom]

lullaby | j.b

pairings: jacob bae x reader genre: neighbour au, strangers to lovers, kind of implied that you both are in college summary: in which your new neighbour sings you to sleep every night since the walls in your building are so thin, and you fall in love with his voice word count: 5.4k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration note: yes i’m in love with jacob’s a to boyz video. yes it inspired this fic. yes i’m going through it.

masterlist

When your old neighbour moved out, you couldn’t be happier at the news.

The girl living in the apartment next to yours used to blast her music late at night and into the early morning, and she always kept you up. Sometimes she did it just for fun, other times she did it to overpower the sound of her arguing with her boyfriend. Either way, you would be up at night wanting nothing more than to go over to your neighbour’s apartment and break her door down as a form of revenge.

But you didn’t, because you quite liked your apartment and didn’t want to give your landlord a reason to kick you out.

Instead, you and your other neighbours filed enough noise complaints to the building’s owner until the girl moved out on her own accord. If you had to pinpoint the worst three months of your life, it would be the time when that girl lived next door to you.

Of course it wasn’t entirely her fault; your apartment building had hilariously thin walls. Her music wasn’t the worst thing you had heard through the walls, but it was certainly the loudest and most consistent thing that bothered you.

For a few weeks, the apartment next to yours was vacant, and you were able to relish in the silence that you had been dreaming about for so many gruelling nights. One afternoon after you came home from your day of classes to find the elderly lady who lives a few doors down for you peeking outside her front door.

“Hi Mrs Kim,” you greeted her with a wave. Her eyes flitted over to you and she offered you a smile. Mrs Kim was your favourite neighbour by far. She always brought you treats when she made too many and made sure to check in on you regularly since you lived alone.

“Hi dear,” she waved back, eyes crinkling as she realised it was you.

“What are you up to?” you wondered.

“I’m just spying on your new neighbour,” Mrs Kim informed you, stepping out of her door frame to speak with you.

You sighed. “Another neighbour?” you echoed, craning your neck to see them move in.

If they were interesting enough to peak Mrs Kim’s interest, you wanted to see them for yourself. Alas, all you could see were boxes and bags piled outside the open front door of the apartment next to yours, the new tenant nowhere in sight.

“I was just getting used to having some peace and quiet around here,” you recalled as an afterthought, wincing at the memories of your last neighbour. Although you had no personal issues with her, you were glad to see the self-absorbed music-blaster go.

“I know dear,” Mrs Kim gave you a sympathetic smile, thinking back to how tired and cranky you were a while back. “But he looks kind,” she offered. “He greeted me very nicely and he even has a guitar! How wonderful.”

“A guitar?” you repeated, frowning. “Not electric, I hope?”

Mrs Kim laughed. “Don’t worry so much, Y/n,” she told you, patting your shoulder in an endearing manner. “He was quite handsome.”

You rose an eyebrow. You had been at the hand of Mrs Kim’s attempted set-ups many times before. “And that’s my cue,” you laughed, saying your goodbyes to Mrs Kim and making your way to your apartment. As you took your keys out and started unlocking your door, curiosity got the best of you and you tried to peer into your neighbour’s apartment for a sign of him. “What are you doing,” you muttered to yourself, scolding yourself for invading your new neighbour’s privacy and entering your apartment.

You awoke from your nap to the sound of music.

“Not again,” you groaned, thinking it was your new neighbour in your sleepy state. Soon, you realised that it was just your phone ringing, and felt a little guilty for immediately blaming your neighbour without even meeting him once. “Hello?” you picked up the call.

“Y/N!” your best friend Changmin yelled into your ear.

“Dude,” you groaned. “Why are you using your outdoor voice?”

“This is my indoor voice,” Changmin exclaimed, surprised that you had found him so loud. “You act like you don’t even know me.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you mumbled, putting your phone on speaker just to get it away from your ear. “What’s up? You woke me from my nap.”

“Mrs Kim told me that you have a new neighbour,” Changmin said casually.

You narrowed your eyes at your phone. “When did you talk to Mrs Kim?”

“I saw her at the convenience store,” Changmin happily informed you. “She said she’d give you some brownies for you to pass on to me in the next few days.”

You laughed at this. “How can you charm everyone around you, including the old ladies that live on my floor?”

“Never mind that,” Changmin dismissed. “New neighbour? What’s he like?”

“I don’t know,” you got out of bed to draw your curtains, letting what was left of the sunset brighten your room. You had fallen asleep while studying, and thus hadn’t set an alarm. “I haven’t met him yet.”

“Mrs Kim says he’s cute.”

“Mrs Kim says everyone is cute,” you scoffed. “That woman is a saint.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” Changmin giggled. “Why are you napping this late? You won’t be able to fall asleep tonight if you nap for so long.”

“I know,” you hummed, stretching out and relishing in how relaxed you felt after your nap.

Your best friend was right, though. Whenever you napped in the late afternoon, you always struggled to fall asleep again that night. Of course, this wasn’t a problem when your monstrous neighbour blasted her music every night anyway, but once she left naps and a good night’s sleep were finally possible for you.

“Maybe my new neighbour will play me a lullaby on his electric guitar,” you joke.

“He has an electric guitar?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Mrs Kim says he carried a guitar into his apartment. I haven’t heard him play yet so I don’t know what kind. But I’m delighted to hear it.”

Changmin snorted. “Really?” he asked in disbelief, having been on the end of some rants about you possibly kidnapping your previous neighbour and threatening her to move out.

“Sure,” you exclaimed. “As long as he plays it during hours of the day where I want to be awake, I have no problems what-so-ever with a little rock and roll.”

“Hilarious,” Changmin said sarcastically. “Anyway, did you finish your Chemistry study guide?”

“Is that why you’re calling?” you wondered. “Pretending to be curious about my new neighbour just to steal my hard work and Chemistry notes.”

“You caught me,” Changmin said happily, no shame in his voice. “So?”

You flipped through your notes to see where you go up to before falling asleep. “Yeah I finished them. I suppose you want my Econ notes when I’m done with them too?”

“Forget Mrs Kim, you’re the real saint,” Changmin said in lieu of an answer.

“No need to butter me up, I’ve already agreed,” you rolled your eyes, grinning at your best friend’s antics. “I’ll text you pictures later.”

Once you said your goodbyes, you made your way into the kitchen to turn on the kettle for a hot drink before wandering back into your room to search for a sweater. Once your water was boiled, you made yourself a drink and snuck back into your bed to burrow under the covers and finish studying.

As you took a sip of your drink and flipped through your Economics notes, you heard the faint timbre of an acoustic guitar. Pausing, you stopped your actions and sat up straight, as if this would amplify the sound more so you could hear it.

You guessed your new neighbour didn’t have an electric guitar after all.

The warm chords that you could make out were soothing and whimsical, and you allowed yourself to get lost in your neighbour’s playing for a moment. Deciding that it would make good background study music, you set aside your headphones in favour of listening to your neighbour play his guitar.

Soon, you were already finished with your Economics study guide so you snapped a few pictures of them and sent them to Changmin, along with your study guide for Chemistry too. A quick glance at the clock told you that you had been studying for an hour and a half after napping, meaning that your neighbour was persistently playing for just as long.

Just as you started considering what movie to watch to kill time so you could feel tired enough to go to sleep, soft singing started to accompany the guitar playing coming from your neighbours’s apartment. His voice was rich and tender at the same time; filled with emotion and lyrics close to a mumble in terms of enunciating. Something about his voice made your heart flutter, just slightly. If you thought he was a good guitar player, you thought he was a phenomenal vocalist.

Rather than watching a movie, you tucked yourself into bed and went on your phone to scroll through social media for a while, just listening to the sound of your neighbour’s voice and the music he was playing.

It didn’t take long before your eyes started to feel heavy; lulled to sleep by the timbre of your neighbour’s voice and the warmth of the covers on your bed. Thanking your past self for already setting your alarm for your classes the next day, you were soothed into a deep sleep despite the fact that you took a lengthy nap that afternoon.

The next morning, you felt as though you had never slept so well in your entire life.

Your bed was almost impossibly cosy and you had to seriously motivate yourself to get out of bed and head to your lectures for the day. After getting ready and dressed for the day, you wrapped a scarf around your neck to fend against the biting cold autumn air. As you exited your apartment, you couldn’t help but linger your gaze on your neighbour’s door, wondering if he was still inside or if he had already left.

“He’s gone,” you yelped as Mrs Kim’s voice startled you out of your stare. She stood as if she hadn’t scared you, unfazed by your reaction. “He left two hours ago.”

You put a hand on your chest in an attempt to calm its erratic beat. “Mrs Kim,” you greeted. “You scared me.”

Mrs Kim ignored you, smirking knowingly at you. “So you saw him then?” she assumed. “You must have, if you’re looking at his door like you want him to come out of his apartment.”

“I didn’t see him yet, Mrs Kim,” you denied with a small smile. “I was in my apartment all night and I’m only just leaving now,” you added.

“Then why’re you staring?” she asked, bending down to pick up her cat from the floor.

“Just curious,” you said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. You wanted to know exactly who had sung you a lullaby that was so sweet it put you right to sleep. “Is he really that handsome, Mrs Kim? Not only did you tell me but you told Changmin about it too.”

“He’s very handsome,” Mrs Kim insisted, pushing a container into your arms with her free hand. “Speaking of your charming friend, that’s for him.”

The container had cut up brownies in it, and you almost laughed at how well Changmin and Mrs Kim got along. “Thank you Mrs Kim, I’ll be sure to give them to him today,” you promised, making your way down the hall and rushing to the bus stop so that you wouldn’t miss the last bus that would get you to college on time.

Somehow, it felt as though your new neighbour was avoiding you.

Either that, or the two of you just kept missing one another. Any time you had to leave, you could still hear him milling around his apartment. The only times you ever heard his front door open was when you were just getting home, or had no intention of leaving. Even Changmin, who was a social butterfly and constantly fluttered in between your friends’ places, never saw your neighbour when he came by to visit.

Without a fail, your neighbour played the guitar and sang every single night.

Sometimes he would play during the day as well, but he only ever sang at night. You assumed that he figured he could sing at night so that nobody else heard him, unaware of the paper-thin walls that separated your apartments. You wondered if it was because he was being courteous, or if he was just shy about singing when other people could hear. Either way, you definitely credited your neighbour to being the reason that you fell asleep peacefully every night.

You never had trouble falling asleep in general, but you mostly had very restless nights of sleep, even in the complete silence you heard when your neighbouring apartment was vacant.

Something about your neighbour’s voice just relaxed you to the point where you slept like a little baby.

The first time you met the owner of said voice, you were running late for class and cursing Changmin on the phone as he laughed at your misfortune. He had been teasing you all week about a presentation you were nervous about, saying that you were so well-prepared that the only thing that could mess it up was you missing the class entirely.

Then your alarm didn’t go off and you woke up half an hour later than you usually would on that day.

“Ji Changmin, you’re an ass,” you fumed, pulling your coat on as you opened the front door of your apartment. “You must have cursed me or something, or at least you spoke it into existence. I don’t know but if you don-“

“I’m so sorry!” a familiar voice exclaimed upon your impact with another body. Two hands reached out to steady you and prevent you from falling over, and your eyes met those of a brown-eyed man.

A beautiful, beautiful, brown-eyed man.

“Are you okay?” he asked, since all you had done since the two of you collided was stare at him. “You’re not… concussed, are you? Can you get concussed by bumping into someone?”

“I don’t think so,” you breathed out, taking in his sharp features and large, kind eyes. “I’m sorry. That was definitely my fault, I was rushing, and yelling at my friend,” you tried to explain, but were interrupted when he laughed.

“No harm done,” he assured you, a shy smile appearing on his face. “I’m Jacob. I just moved in next door, actually,” he introduced himself.

Jacob. Mrs Kim was right, he was very handsome.

“Hi Jacob,” you replied, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m-“

“Y/n, right?” he stated. At your surprised expression, Jacob only shrugged. “I talked to Mrs Kim from a few doors down. She told me all about you.”

“Oh gosh,” you laugh, covering your face with a hand. “I hope not everything. She’s seen me at my worst, let me put it that way.”

“All good things,” Jacob assured you in his velvety voice. “She speaks really highly of you. Says that you’re smart, kind, and that you have great taste in friends.”

You grin. “Ah, yes. My best friend seems to have charmed his way into her heart. That’s why he gets brownies in a Tupperware and I don’t,” you informed him. “I’m sure you’ll get there too.”

“I sure hope so,” Jacob nods. “I’m a terrible baker and brownies sound really good.” The two of you shared a laugh. “You said you were in a rush, right?” he seemed to recall, causing your eyes to widen.

“Yes! I need to run. I need to catch a bus, like,” you glanced at the time on your phone, realising how late you were and that you were still on a call with Changmin. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Good luck,” Jacob smiled, waving at you as you said your goodbyes.

“Nice meeting you!” you called back to him, starting to jog down the staircase before bringing your phone up to your ear.

“Jacob, hm?” Changmin’s voice teased you.

“Watch it, Ji Changmin,” you warned. “You’re on thin ice already. Save me a seat!”

Other than being sung to sleep by him every night, your relationship with Jacob pretty much ended at your first meeting. The two of you always exchanged pleasantries when you passed each other in the hallway, and he had once informed you that he really had reached brownie-level friendships with Mrs Kim, but nothing beyond that.

You couldn’t say that you were surprised, considering how the two of you had such different schedules and you kept missing one another, but you somehow felt a little disappointed.

It felt a little bit like the two of you already knew each other, as you heard him sing every single night; hearing the emotion and vulnerability in his voice with every song. But you knew nothing about each other.

After a particularly gruelling day of your Chemistry lab class, you dragged your feet up the stairs to your apartment, feeling utterly exhausted and worn out by your class.

Your lab partner was the absolute worst. He was one of those types that thought he knew everything better than you because he was a Chemistry major, and he belittled you about every single step in the lab. Most of what he was saying was wrong, but he wouldn’t listen to you because he was sure he was right.

Half a semester later, you had just gotten your midterm back and found out that you failed because the data from your experiments were incorrect, and your professor couldn’t give you full credit for any of your answers. Frustrated tears built in your eyes as you made you way to your apartment door, rummaging through your bag for your keys.

“This can’t be happening,” you whined when you realised that your keys were nowhere in your bag, and you had left them in your apartment that morning. “Seriously? Today of all days?” you exclaimed, wiping your cheeks to dry your tears as you headed for Mrs Kim’s apartment to see if she was home. You had entrusted her with a spare key to your apartment since you knew you couldn’t take care of it yourself, and becomes she was so close by.

Realising she wasn’t home, you trudged back to your apartment and sunk onto the floor, burying your face in your knees and letting out a sob. Your day had been mentally and physically exhausting enough without having to wait outside your apartment, in the cold autumn air, to anticipate Mrs Kim’s return so you could enter your apartment.

The door next to yours opened slightly, a soft, concerned voice calling out to you. “Y/n?” Jacob asked quietly, wondering why you were outside. When he noticed your crying, he immediately stepped outside and knelt in front of you. “Are you okay? What happened?” You could only sob in response, not having it in you to explain your situation to him. “Why are you crying?” sniffling, you managed to raise your head and point weakly at your front door.

“You’re locked out?” he guessed, earning a nod. “Okay, let’s go to my place,” Jacob offered you, holding his hand out to help you up. “I just made hot chocolate, and I have Disney Plus so we can watch something while you wait for Mrs Kim,” he paused when you didn’t say anything. “Technically, it’s not my Disney Plus account, but I have my friend’s password. He subscribed just to watch the Beyonce album film,” you laughed tearfully, which Jacob considered a success.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you admitted in a quiet voice, slightly raw from your crying.

“You? Bothering me?” Jacob exclaimed. “Never. Now c’mon. Our hot chocolate’s getting cold.”

Grateful for his kindness, you accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull you to your feet, gently ushering you into his apartment and closing the door behind you. He motioned for you to take a seat on his sofa and you did so, taking off your coat and scarf as you adjusted to Jacob’s warm apartment.

“Here,” he placed two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of you, taking a seat on a sofa next to you but giving you some space. You mumbled a quiet thank you before sipping on the hot drink, savouring the way it warmed your insides.

Spotting his guitar leaning against the wall next to the TV, you cocked your head in curiosity to see what it looked like. It was made of a light brown, almost yellow, wood and looked like it was treasured by Jacob. Not only was it in perfect condition, it also looked like it had been used for years already. You silently wondered how long he had been playing it for. “Do you play?” Jacob asked, noticing where your eyes were looking.

Shaking your head, you told him that you didn’t. “You’re really good, though,” you complimented before you could realise what you were saying.

Jacob blinked at you, eyes wide and lips pursed in surprise. “Me?” he echoed. “You’ve heard me play?”

Feeling stupid, you only nodded, sipping more of your hot chocolate as an excuse to think about what you wanted to say. “Um, yeah. Walls are kind of thin around here.”

Jacob blushed. “I’m so sorry,” he apologised. “I play until really late at night most of the time. I even-“ he paused, realising you had heard him sing. “I even sing,” he whispered, eyes flitting to the ground as his cheeks reddened further.

“You’re really good,” you complimented. “At singing, too.”

Jacob shook his head. “It must be annoying.”

“Not at all,” you denied. “My last neighbour used to blast angry-girl rock music. Now, I have nothing against angry-girl rock music, but I do when it’s being played at an ear-splitting volume into the early hours of the morning. That’s annoying. Your singing… It’s more like a lullaby,” you finished your thoughts in a whisper, shy at your explanation.

“Really?” Jacob was shocked.

You hummed in agreement. “I’ve never slept so well in my life,” you admitted with a small smile.

“Oh,” Jacob sipped on his mug to stop a huge smile from taking over his features. After meeting Mrs Kim for the first time, he was intrigued to meet the person she was speaking so highly of. When he ran into you, he felt flustered and excited because you were even more stunning than he could have imagined from Mrs Kim’s description. “I’m glad I helped, then. Even though the idea of you hearing me is mildly humiliating.”

“What!” you exclaimed, louder than you had intended to. “Why would it be humiliating? Your singing is… I can’t even describe it with words. It’s beautiful, Jacob.”

“You think so?” he asked in a disbelieving tone. Your eager nod made butterflies flutter in his stomach. “Thank you. That actually means a lot.”

“You don’t seem to believe me,” you observed.

“I’m not that confident in myself, or my playing,” Jacob explained awkwardly. “I’m more the quiet type, so it’s not so easy for me to put myself out there when it comes to music. I want my music to mean something to other people, and it’s how I communicate best, so…”

“Well, I can confirm first-hand that you’re amazing,” you offered. “I might not be as great of a musician as you, so my compliment might not mean anything to you, but I really believe it.”

Jacob bit his bottom lip, deciding to nod in response to your words, too shy to say much else. You took his reaction as a sign that he didn’t want to continue the conversation anymore, so you focused your attention back onto your hot chocolate. “Do you want to watch a movie?” he offered.

“I would love to leach off of your friend’s Disney Plus account,” you agreed, referring to how Jacob ranted a little about his friend. Jacob grinned, getting up to hang your coat and scarf up for you before he turned the TV on.

Being with Jacob in a more casual state was more fun than you had expected.

Once the two of you warmed up to one another, you found that Jacob was actually really goofy and fun when he got comfortable with you. He made terrible puns about the characters in the film you decided on, and his laugh made you want to squeal because he was so adorable.

Halfway through your second movie, you had fallen asleep as a result of the hot chocolate that had deliciously warmed your body, and the exhaustion from your emotional day. When Jacob noticed, he took one of the throw blankets form his bedroom and gently placed it over your body, getting up from the sofa to let you stretch out and get some rest.

The few times you woke up after falling asleep, you were lulled back to sleep and relaxed by Jacob’s soothing guitar playing and singing. Despite being tired, you were awake long enough to be pleased that Jacob seemed comfortable enough around you to play for you while you were still in his apartment, instead of just waiting until you left.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Jacob’s sweet voice gently calling for you to wake up. After opening your eyes, you saw Jacob kneeling in front of you with a bright smile and ruffled hair. “Hi sleepyhead,” he greeted, handing you a cup of tea. You sat up, rubbing your eyes with one hand and accepting the mug with the other. “Mrs Kim came by to drop off your key,” Jacob said. “I texted her last night.”

“Thank you,” you replied, surprised that he had gone out of his way to contact Mrs Kim when you were an emotional wreck who had forgotten all about it.

“She also said to wake you before noon because you have classes in the afternoon and you hate rushing,” Jacob added in thought, passing your spare key from Mrs Kim over to you. “Seems a little ironic since you and I seem to only ever meet when you’re rushing.”

You laughed at this. “What can I say, you always catch me on a good day,” you joke. “But seriously. Thank you. You really helped me out last night, I don’t know how I can repay you.”

Jacob waved you off. “No repayment needed. I’m just happy to get closer to you after being your neighbour for over a month already.”

His large smile was one that you hoped you’d be seeing more of. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re an angel?” you wondered, resting your head on your hand as you observed Jacob’s face. The fluttery feeling in your stomach didn’t surprise you anymore, not after he had saved you the night before. “Like an actual angel. Now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I think I see your wings.”

A giggle escaped the man next to you. “I’ve actually heard that before,” Jacob admitted sheepishly.

“I’m not surprised,” you hummed, sipping on the warm tea Jacob made for you. “What time is it?”

“Just after eleven,” Jacob recited. “Do you have to get going?”

You nodded, finishing up your cup of tea. “I do, unfortunately. I have to go see my Chemistry professor and do some serious begging and grovelling.”

“Sounds rough,” Jacob gave you a sympathetic smile. “Well, I had a really good time last night.”

You smiled back easily, unable to hold it back. “I had a really good time last night too,” you assured him. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Stop,” Jacob laughed. “Don’t even think about it. I was happy to have you over.”

“I was happy to finally hear your playing in person,” you replied. “I only really heard it in and out of sleep, but I was still glad to hear it. Also,” you paused, unsure if you were going too far.

“Also,” he echoed, curiosity piqued.

“You said last night that you wanted your music to mean something,” you recalled. “It does mean something. To me, at least. It actually means a lot.”

“I think I can see those angel wings you’re talking about,” Jacob said. “Except they’re on you.”

“Very funny,” you laughed, getting up and finding your coat. “I really need to get going, though.”

“Okay,” Jacob nodded, walking you to the door. “I’ll see you around?” he offered, insecure that you wouldn’t want to spend more time with him.

“I’ll see you soon,” you corrected, flashing him a wink before you let yourself out. Jacob closed the door behind you and you let yourself sigh in delight, relishing in the evening you had together the night before.

“What are you doing walking out of your hot neighbour’s apartment?” you jumped, surprised by Changmin’s sudden presence at your front door. He held out a take-away cup of coffee for you.

“You scared me,” you told him, ignoring his comment as you accepted the coffee.

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” Changmin scowled, following you into your apartment after you unlocked your door. “You came to school in those clothes yesterday. Did you hook up with your cute neighbour? Jacob?”

“You ask so many questions,” you complained, making your way into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. “No, I didn’t hook up with Jacob. I locked myself out and he graciously took me in for the evening, despite my emotional ugly-crying.”

Changmin laughed. “You would go stay at your hot neighbour’s house after having the crappiest day in the world,” he said, pleased at the outcome.

“Thanks, Changmin. Now I need to change so that I have enough time to beg our Chemistry professor to let me do extra-credit assignments so I don’t fail the class,” you added, feeling gloomy about what happened with your midterm the day before.

“Sure, sure,” Changmin nodded, taking a seat on your sofa and taking his phone out.

You made your way to your bedroom to change your clothes, going as quickly as possible so that you still had time to neaten your hair a little. When a knock sounded through your apartment, you called out to Changmin to open the door for you.

“Oh, hi!” you heard your best friend say in his usual chipper tone. “You must be Jacob! I’ve heard so much about you,” at the sound of Jacob’s name, you dropped your hair brush and rushed to the front door, where Changmin was smirking at your neighbour.

“Hey,” you greeted. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jacob assured you, glancing nervously at Changmin, who was still grinning at him.

“Could you give us a minute?” you asked Changmin, raising an eyebrow at his blatant eavesdropping. He sighed, sad that his fun was over, before he walked in the direction of your kitchen. “What’s up?” you smiled at Jacob.

He took a deep breath. “Would you want to get dinner some time?” he asked, tapping his foot as a nervous habit.

His question both surprised and delighted you. “Like a date?” you asked, hiding your smile.

“Like a date,” Jacob confirmed. “If you want.”

“I want,” you agreed, showing your smile. “I want a lot.”

“Great,” Jacob sighed, relieved. “I want a lot, too.” You giggled at how strange the two of you sounded.

“If you guys are going to start kissing, I suggest you do it now because we have to go,” Changmin called from the kitchen, ruining the moment.

Jacob pointed in Changmin’s direction. “He’s not coming to dinner, is he?” he asked.

You grinned. “Absolutely not.”

“How does tonight sound?” Jacob suggested. “Or is that too eager of me?”

“Just eager enough,” you assured him. “Pick me up at seven?”

“Sure thing,” he agreed, beaming as he stepped out of your doorway to go back to his apartment.

“I hope you don’t get lost on your way to my apartment,” you teased. “It’s awfully far from yours.”

“I’ll just follow the sound of your wings,” he called, waving before he disappeared into his apartment.

Dinner. You liked the sound of that.

note: second fic in my 2k celebration series!! i know that this fic and the last didn’t end with a kiss or a relationship but i still think the ending is cute, i hope it satisfies you!

[grahammasurian]

Dumping Your Responsibility.

The dumpster outside my apartment building was completely overflowed. The truck missed a couple weeks for some reason and people just kept piling their shit on top regardless.

“My sin will be forgiven, the next sinner will go to hell!”

This came into my head whenever I thought of the garbage situation. I considered myself 99% innocent since I didn’t use the dumpster during these couple weeks. Unfortunately when disaster happens it doesn’t care how much you were involved, all it sees is your darkness.

What I could have done was call up our landlord. Maybe I didn’t add directly to the trash pile but I still could have brought attention to it. Unfortunately my mind gave me a great reason for not calling him, a wonderful why even bother type of belief. These curses will kill you but they provide immense relief.

He lives someplace nicer and keeps his back turned on this building, so if I don’t tell him anything he’ll keep believing whatever fantasy he’s living. Whenever I bring up something for him to look at he puts it off or conveniently forgets about it, can’t say I blame him. I'd love to do the same sometimes and then feel guilty about it for the rest of my life. It’s hard to convince myself that a life of eternal guilt is worse than a life of hard work. Maybe the simple solution is to just disregard the guilt and make everyone despise me, though I can’t say that seems like a good long term strategy.

I guess everyone likes to avoid responsibility too, don’t get me wrong I get it, because man it sure feels good to not take anything seriously, just sit back and relax through life, I’ll lay down in my bed and fold into a quarter circle. Pull my knees up to my chest and gently hold myself, like swinging in the breeze floating along to somewhere better.

Eventually some birds had a war over the trash that was at this point spilling everywhere, old food, old clothes, plastic shit, maybe real shit. It was a disaster but seemed to be an appropriate punishment for us. I watched a seagull pull apart a bag for 30 minutes, something about the completely boring and ordinary scene held a power over me. I imagined this feeling of our civilizations being consumed again by nature, it’s easy to forget that nature is constantly trying to integrate us more effectively. Integration with an ocean with a mysterious intention.

We could have salvaged things there, rescued some of our dignity and just accepted responsibility for what we did by not doing. I sat some nights debating whether or not I should just go out there and clean up everything alone. I didn’t mind the day, but at night I just loved how things seemed to come to life inside me. There was a power that I didn’t have access to during the day.

I decided it wasn’t worth cleaning up, after all I don’t really care what these people think of me, unless they express it to me. Plus I felt like I fit in better with my environment as a lazy drifter. When I run into the people that live here occasionally there is enough willpower on all our parts to say “Hi” and then move on our way. The two people that live under me, man and wife, maybe around late 50’s early 60’s always give me a glimpse into a possible future. The guy looks like his soul has been sucked out and not in a good way. It scares me for a moment and I tell myself I’ll keep it in mind but my actions don’t change.

The next week after the missed pickup and our experiment with apathy, something happened.

It was 12:33 AM, I was laying down in my bed with the window open, listening to the wind and feeling the slight breeze on my skin. Sometimes I’d lay there for hours listening to music or in silence, using drugs of course. The sounds of the night combined with distant sounds of the city created the backdrop for the worlds I explored in my mind. I break away from the atmosphere and write some ideas down in some form then go back to my mind.

I heard a familiar sound, the mother of this girl screaming in that resentful kind of way. Whenever someone talks that way to me my stomach gets sick, I see this person is using me to escape from something. You know instantly that this isn’t about you anymore, it's about them.

I hated the way this mother yelled at her daughter, I didn’t have kids of my own but I didn’t mind them, I generally see children as innocent beings until they gain awareness. When they become aware they turn into wood, hopefully they make it through and become real but many don’t. Some play as the twisted craftsmen, shaping the world with design. Night after night I’d hear this poor girl being molded into something that will make her unhappy for the rest of her life.

Even though it’s hard to feel connected with darkness, you still elicit feelings for things of the night. You react more on principle and not bigger picture at night, this mother was injecting venom deep into the mind of her daughter. Like a jackass I sat there each night it happened and listened to it like music.

 Being man enough to walk down there one day and call her out on her shitty behavior was always in the back of my mind, but then I would think some more and figure what difference would it make? Sometimes I snap out of my delusions and wake up, I see who I am from up here.

Just look for the right words.

It didn’t happen every time but sometimes this warped girl would dash outside, slamming doors and shouting behind her. Most times I’d hear her small steps pace around or walk down out of earshot then eventually I’d hear her again coming from the other side of the building, maybe doing two or three laps like that before cooling off and gaining enough strength to go back. She feels like she just wants to give up but chooses to continue to face that fate which shows just how much courage she had.

This night the young girl made her usual escape, something about the scene caught my attention. Normally I just ignored it for the most part, but tonight I felt worried for her and listened to see if she was okay.

The shriek of her screaming scared me sober. That kind of pitch that you can only get when you feel real terror.

Confusion at night amplifies fear to a level that can go beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Sometimes hearing a loud noise randomly in the middle of the night only to realize it was something conspicuous is an interesting moment of tension and release of tension. When you listen to death it creates tension that doesn’t go away unless you force it to release.

I couldn’t see much but the sounds made up for the rest, I looked on in horror as this poor unfortunate girl came running towards the front door to come back inside. She must have forgotten to prop it open a little this time like she usually did. The door was shut, she couldn’t escape through there and it was the only chance she had time to try.

This whole thing happened so fast it was as if my mind refused to think about what I was seeing, this bear that must have smelled some food nearby came across her instead.

Hearing someone produce screams that come from a dangerous place, sends a painful shock through you. It would have been nice if I was one of those people that got off on that kind of thing but unfortunately I had to deal with the feelings of misery, dread, sadness, fear, anger, all at once.  

A little bit slower than what should have been immediate there was incredible energy from all around, people coming out and making noise, not too many but enough for me to be impressed.

The general sentiment at the time was:

“Oh My God!” A big fat lady wearing a shaggy blue sweater screeched out. There were many other intense shouts, deflated yelps, sobbing murmurs, all mixing together slowly creating the atmosphere for a tremendously horrific scene.

All these half awake people, semi-disconnected souls felt something deep down within them for once. For the first time in decades some of these hopeless people felt alive, they acted without thought calling back to our primate ancestors. They witnessed a driving force, without realizing the lesson unfortunately.

Some of the people approached the girl to try and attempt some kind of help and others stayed away, accepting the situation or too afraid to know how bad it really was.

Some sobs were heard throughout the night as people came and went, voices that sounded defeated, voices that sounded ready to give up and heavy with guilt.

“Emily! No!” The mother cried. Obviously still drunk. Obviously deluded into thinking her daughter is anywhere close to alive.

“Please baby I’m so sorry! Please wake up baby!”

I had great disdain for this mother, but at that moment I felt bad for her. This woman made mistakes and in the end all it causes is suffering.

They came for her daughter, whisked her away into the abyss forever. Black cloaks riding into the stars on their skeletal horses. I wasn’t sure whether or not the constant beating I was hearing was a drum or my heart. We summoned these demons with our ritual, the choices we made were acts of incantation that brought forth monsters with the power to possess mortals, the possession was the final step in ensuring resurrection lest one of us snap out of the hypnosis and rescue the rest from the gaze of Medusa.

Then some downcast EMT workers took away her body, from the low looks and words after immediately coming upon the scene it was clear that hope didn’t exist anymore. I never saw the aftermath personally, where the actual attack happened was obscured to me by the awning over the door. Sometimes imagination makes things worse.

The mother followed her daughter into the darkness 3 weeks later.

[kingsephir]

Super long post.

Hello everyone! I’m sorry I have not been posting pictures and such of Japan yet but after reading this status, I’m sure you’ll understand. I would like to preface this with, other than my medical problems it has been a wonderful and beautiful time so far.

We arrived in Japan on October 3rd and started our 2 week quarantine. I had just come off of a 3 month regimen of Latent Tuberculosis antibiotics. Very strong ones that I had to follow a strict diet and really took a toll on me each day. At the hotel, they give us three meals a day (but we could also go to the convenience store anytime) pretty much still withholding to my antibiotic diet, I ate parts of the meals that they brought and the first day I began to feel ill. One might say, oh maybe you’re just not used to Japanese food? Maybe you’re stressed? But honestly? I was in a good mood and I’d lived in Japan for a year before and the food has never hurt me. Even raw fish.

I figured, like usual, I’d just have some discomfort and it would just go away the next day. Well, it didn’t. It just got worse. So I switched to bottled water (even though the water here is drinkable), still got worse, completely stopped eating the quarantine meals and ate only from the convienence store (which made my husband almost immediately improve) and I got worse. Going to the bathroom 10-20 times a day, finally can barely eat, can barely drink. So on the 10th day due to a sort of loop hole, I was able to go to the ER in Tokyo. They gave me an IV and took a blood test and a CT scan. They said that my whole intestines were really inflamed and I had a bacterial infection. I was taking probiotics and still could sort of eat so they let me go. I just wanted to make it to Aomori. Last few days I had fevers and still never got better, I was eating only banana and rice porridge.

Finally, the day to go to Aomori comes. I take anti diarrhea medicine (absolutely horrible feeling but I was desperate and needed to travel) and while my husband carried almost all of my things himself (absolutely bless him through all this) I made it to Aomori and my supervisor and some other coworkers came and picked me up. I had been keeping in touch with my supervisor about my illness the whole time, so he knew what was going on. They drove me and my husband to our house, gave us the tour and it was absolutely wonderful. It was cozy and well stocked, my predecessor had left a lot of things but useful things so nicely and neatly organized it was like walking into a cozy air bnb. The drive there was also absolutely stunning, some of the most beautiful landscapes i’ve ever seen. Honestly. They had me sign papers and stuff and then they took James to the supermarket and the town hall to take care of the paperwork I couldn’t in my state, and get some groceries.

I slept the entire time (about 4 hours) he was gone.

When my husband came back, he took my temperature and I kid you not I had a fever of 104°F or 40°C!!!!!!!!!! My supervisor and (landlord? Not sure who he is yet but he’s super nice) quickly came back and took us to the clinic. They put me on an IV and anti fever meds. The clinic doctor wrote a referral to the hospital for the next morning. I felt much better after the IV that night.

The next morning, (19th) I went to the hospital early and waited in a bed in the waiting room. They did a ton of tests on me. Ultrasound, ekg, stool sample, blood test, xray. All kinds of things. They admitted me to the hospital for at least a week. So here I am, at the hospital.

I’m not the only one of the Chicago group that got sick but im the only one /this/ sick. There is another person in my prefecture that had to get an IV for half a day and got antibiotics to take. I have been suffering with this for about 15 days now. And though I’m taking it one day at a time and I know I’ll eventually be okay, I’m very tired. The Tokyo doctors mentioned it could be E Coli but didn’t know without further tests. Today the hospital im at will hear what bacteria it is exactly so they will be able to tweak my treatment.

I have not had anything but water since the 19th as they “feed me” through an IV, give me liquids (im not supposed to drink much water) and antibiotics. They just upped my feeding thing to include more calories so I think that is good. But it’s been extremely rough.

However, everyone around me here has been so extremely kind and understanding and helpful to me. My supervisor’s supervisor seems to be in contact with the higher ups about the food we (Chicago consult group) ate. I really hope they improve things for others because if someone brought kids??? They could die. I am not kidding either. It’s extremely serious. I had sent an email early on about the food and they emailed the hotel and then emailed me back and said that everything was up to code. So 🤷‍♀️

Lastly, I want to thank my husband for without him idk how I could make it. It would be so hard and lonely and I need so much help. But he is always kind, and always patient with me when I am sick. I truly am honored to be his wife.

My supervisor and coworkers and friends who have all supported me and given me medicine and said nice things, I so appreciate you all. My supervisor is amazing and is showing my husband around and helping him take care of things without me, I am so appreciative for the people around me.

And the doctors who have all seen me and listened to me. I have had some really top notch nurses here, one hugged me when I was crying, one would talk very slow and clear and explain in detail with simple words how things were working and what is going on, one makes me laugh a lot. They are all very kind and so helpful.

Lastly, thank you God, that I am sick in Japan, because even if I paid for everything out of pocket im looking at no more than probably about $1,500 and I get money back through my insurance so I don’t even pay that much.

So that is what has been going on.

After I get out of the hospital my work is giving me an extra two weeks at home to recover and I couldn’t be more thankful.

I hope no one else has to deal with this while moving to a new country and they get it all sorted out. ❤️

Thanks for reading my super super long post haha.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Here Kitty Kitty || Ariana & Grace

TIMING: Afternoon August 24th PARTIES: @silveraccent & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY:  Ariana tries to use her craft fair prize to lure Layla the cat to her new building and accidentally summons foireaux cats, much to Grace’s dismay

To say things had been hectic lately would be a complete and utter understatement. There was only one day left before Ariana was supposed to change Ace and she was riddled with anxiety. It was a big responsibility, yes, but she was only half sure it’d actually get Lydia to leave him be. Otto was out of her head now, but she was still worried about where the hell Layla the cat had run off to. Conveniently enough, the prize she received for her submission to the craft fair was a cat whistle. Of course Layla wouldn’t run back to the trailer filled with dogs, but maybe she could lure her here so she could get her somewhere safe. After dropping off her security deposit and proof of income to her new landlord, she stood outside the building and used the whistle. Another girl was approaching, but she didn’t think much of it until a few little black cats ran up to her. Something didn’t feel quite right with the way they were looking at her, so she tried to get on their level and be friendly. “Well, hey there, kitties,” she said warmly before turning to her new neighbor, “I promise I’m not bringing all the cats with me when I move into a building. Heck, I’m not even bringing one. I’m sure my dog would lose her mind.” 

Despite the utilities being included in her rent, Grace refused to run her window unit longer than a few hours. This often resulted in walks around the neighborhood, and to the corner store to buy a supply of cold drinks and ice cream. On her way back, she spotted an unfamiliar face leaving the landlord’s office. Though she had only intended on giving her a firm nod and being on her merry way, the girl spoke to her, making her stop in her tracks. She looked down at the cats, not having noticed them at first. “If you were, I wouldn’t mind, there’s a mouse in my apartment.” Grace kneeled down next to the stranger, looking over the cat with a smile. They looked rough around the edges, certainly not house cats. She hadn’t seen many in this area, so seeing them now was a bit odd. “Where did they come from?” Grace asked as she slowly stuck the back of her hand towards the cat, not wanting to scare it. She looked down at the girl’s hand and noticed a pair of keys. “Oh, are you moving here?” Quite the observer, idiot. Grace thought to herself. 

It dawned on her that something with these cats didn’t seem quite right, but they approached her anyhow. Moira was really the only cat Ariana had gotten on well with and these cats were very much not Moira. She wondered if they could sense the wolf in her and if that made them uneasy. One seemed to dart through her legs so quickly that she almost fell over. She braced herself against the wall, the bricks slightly scraping her palm, and responded, “Hm, I could probably help with the mouse thing cat-free… I’m not much of a cat person. I think these little ones could tell.” Her tone was a little nervous as the cats continued to congregate around her and now Grace. Maybe the whistle only lured over cats out of frustration, but they all seemed rough and darker in color. She slowly backed away from them and extended her hand for Grace to shake. “Yep, I move in on the first so guess we’ll be neighbors. I’m Ariana,” she introduced herself brightly but was quickly tripped up again by another cat weaving through her legs. 

“Are you okay?” Grace asked as the girl leaned against the wall. She could see scratches on her palm. She had had her fair share of run ins with that wall, and it hadn’t ever been fun. “Really, you think so?” Grace asked as she ran her fingers along the top of the cat’s head. It rubbed against her hand then flitted away, its tail straight up. She straightened up and rubbed the back of her hand against the backs of her jeans. “Somebody mentioned no-kill traps, so I might try that first.” Grace watched as a few more cats rounded the corner, all of which at their feet, weaving in between them, their paws swatting at the air. “Ariana?” She smiled at her, “that’s a pretty name. I’m Grace.” She stuck her hand out to shake Ariana’s. “That’s cool though, there are a few cool people around here, I’m sure you’ll run into them soon. Grace watched as a cat ran forward and darted between Ariana’s legs. Grace reached out to steady her. “They’re really active, aren’t they? I have some canned tuna upstairs, I wonder if they’re hungry.” Grace turned her attention back to Ariana. “Are you from here? Or are you moving from out of state?” A part of her hopes that Ariana is new, like her, that way she won’t feel so lost, but something about her tells her that that isn’t the case. 

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” Ariana responded as she dusted any dirt off her hand. With the full moon approaching, it’d heal quickly enough. While her initial instinct may have been more to use her wolf-y instincts to get the mouse, it became clear she’d rather take the humane route. “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen those at the shop before. They should totally do the trick and you can release the mouse. You’ll want to do a quick check and make sure the walls and any nooks and crannies are all sealed too… that’s the part I’d be more of a help with.” She wanted to get excited when Grace introduced herself, Blanche had mentioned her after all, but it seemed like more of these cats were showing up and they didn’t look happy. “Grace,” she exclaimed weakly as she eyed the cats, “Blanche mentioned you. She’s one of my good friends and is how I even knew about this building.” She slowly backed away and looked back at Grace, “I’m not sure that’s the best-- something doesn’t seem right with them and more keep showing up.” Not taking her eyes off the cats, she answered, “Technically, yeah, I’ve lived all over but been here since Mar--” Oh hell no, was that cat getting bigger? It looked like it was. In this town, it was hard to know if claws and teeth alone would cut it and she didn’t really want to shift in front of her new neighbor. “I think we should probably… get away from here.” 

“Why would you be more help with--” Grace looked at the cats as they seemed to have multiplied in numbers. Hadn’t there only just been a few? She had lived at the complex for a while now and hadn't ever seen this many cats. There were a few who liked to hang around, but never in this big of a group. “Blanche?” Grace asked as she cut her gaze away from the cats, back to Ariana. It made sense, they all seemed to be similar in age. “Oh, yeah-- she’s really nice.” Grace wasn’t sure what was happening, the sudden shift in emotion, the unease, it was leaking into the air between them and made it hard for Grace to concentrate. Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion as she listened to Ariana, the urgency in her voice becoming a lot more clear-- she didn’t even need to feel the shift. “Is everything okay?” Grace asked as she looked back to the cats. A few had gotten noticeably bigger, but how was that possible? “Are you okay?” Grace asked again as she cut her attention back to Ariana, following her move to back away from the crowd of cats. They didn’t seem as nice as before, and it made Grace begin to grow uneasy. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” Grace muttered under her breath. 

Fuck, how did more cats keep showing up? Ariana knew that transforming to scare them off in front of her new neighbor definitely wasn’t an option. She wasn’t even entirely sure that would actually work as these clearly weren’t normal cats. Of course her craft fair prize wasn’t a normal cat whistle and she cursed herself for being this dumb. “I’m fine, but we gotta get out of here,” she insisted. As one of the growing cats approached them, Ariana grabbed Grace’s arm and pulled her away from the cat. She backed away slowly, keeping a very close eye on the cats. Perhaps it wasn’t the most human move, but she let out a low growl to intimidate the stupid cats. If anything, Grace would hopefully attribute it to the weird cats. She heard Grace’s hushed words and assured, “I’m sure you haven’t but it’s going to be fine.” Her voice sounded a lot more convincing that she felt. They were backed up a little closer to the door now. “You go in first,” she directed, “I’ll follow behind you.” If one of these things really was going to come at her, the wolf in her would take it from there, but she hoped they could both go away and the cats would just leave. 

“Oh-- okay, okay.” Grace knew to listen when she was being told to do something, at least, in this town-- she knew that if this girl knew Blanche, it was possible that she knew other things that Grace didn’t know yet, and she was very clearly disturbed by the cats that surrounded them now, and though it was dulled, she could feel something frantic off of Ariana. She followed Ariana’s guidance, and raised an eyebrow in question at the growl that clearly left Ariana. She didn’t question it, Grace had barked at geese before to get them to leave her alone, so wasn’t this the same? The door was behind them now, and Grace splayed her hand behind herself to grab the knob. She opened it and slipped in through it. She left enough room for Ariana to slip through, too, before she crowded by the door and pressed her face against the small window pane so she could look at the cats that now were angrily meowing at them. “What the hell was that?” She asked as she looked at Ariana. “They didn’t scratch you, did they?” 

It was a relief that Grace listened to her without questioning it. Ariana quickly slipped in the door behind her and let out a sigh of relief. The cats still seemed to be getting closer to the door and meowed angrily, but they couldn’t get in the door at least. She let out a long breath and thought of how she was going to answer Grace’s question. To be fair, she didn’t actually know what those cats were, but they were definitely supernatural. How much did Grace know about this sort of thing? Not that she was particularly great about beating around the bush, but she legitimately couldn’t think of a normal explanation. She shrugged as she still kept a close eye out the window. “I have no idea what that was. Thought they were cats, but something clearly wasn’t right with them,” she explained. She hoped Grace didn’t push too much because her only other explanation was definitely supernatural. “I’ve never seen anything like them before, but no, they didn’t scratch me, just tripped me up a bit. Didn’t really care to see what they’d do if they got any bigger.” 

Unease hung in the air, which in turn, made Grace’s stomach churn. She cradled her hands around her abdomen and watched the cats through the window in the door. Grace wasn’t sure what needed an explanation and what didn’t. Her time in White Crest had only become more confusing, and with every little thing happening, she wasn’t sure if she could hide it under weird or confusing anymore. She looked at Ariana as she began to speak with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe rabies or something.” That could be it, right? Grace only had experience with reanimated corpses, treasure hunts, and flying airplanes thrown by nobody. She didn’t know about cats, but who was to say there wasn’t something else going on? She moved away from the door in an effort to distance herself from the cats. “That’s good… that you didn’t get scratched, I mean, because if they are sick, then--” She stops herself, “maybe we should call animal control?” Her mind flickered to Kaden and her discussion of mice. Though, she had already brought up the mime breaking in through her window. How much could she go to other people for? “You can come up, if you want, until they’re gone.” She blinked at Ariana, “I have some tea and some leftover soup, if you want any?” 

It was very convenient that Grace had happened upon the idea of rabies on her own. Ariana would have never come to that rationalization would have definitely spilled the beans about the supernatural. Not that it was a secret she was particularly great about keeping that secret to begin with, but still. She didn’t need her new neighbor thinking she was a total freak. “Rabies, that has to be it,” she agreed. At the mention of Animal Control, she added, “Oh, that’s a good idea. Family friend of mine actually works for them. I’ll shoot him a text.” She could practically hear the lecture from Kaden coming about summoning demon cats by accident, but it was almost amusing. He liked to act all tough and like she was just a werewolf and then warned her to be careful. She didn’t want Blanche coming home to all those weird cats. She was surprised at the invite but smiled and nodded her head. “Yeah, that’d be nice actually. At least until the coast is clear and all, I don’t want to like impose or anything.” She followed Grace up to her apartment still a bit weary of the cats, but there was little she could do now. They weren’t following at least, so she relaxed a little. “I’ll definitely bring something delicious by once I’m all moved in. You like venison at all?” 

“Maybe it is,” Grace muttered under her breath. Though, once she said it out loud, she wasn’t sure if she believed it. She pushed the idea that it could be anything else from her mind. She smiled at Ariana at the idea that animal control could help them. She wondered how small the department was, but didn’t bother asking any questions. She didn’t know Kaden well, only that he was afraid of mimes and that he was dating Regan, which was still odd to Grace. “You won’t be imposing, don’t worry.” Grace fished her keys out of her front pocket. “I live on the fourth floor, it’s a bit of a trek, I hope that’s okay? I don’t like taking elevators.” She looked over her shoulder at Ariana before making the climb to her apartment. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. She had great timing in getting the window replaced, that was for sure. She took her shoes off before dropping the keys onto the table. Her studio was small, but with the two of them barely stacking up to amount to anything, they didn’t take up much room. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Grace opened her instant pot and stood on her tippy toes to peer in at the soup. “It’s almost done!” She looked over her shoulder with a smile, “I’ve never actually had it,” she admitted. “Is it anything like beef?” She didn’t think it was, but she couldn’t be sure. She grabbed two mugs and began to heat up water for the tea she had promised Ariana. Her gaze swept over the apartment, the only thing odd being her one-eyed fish who stared at the two of them, unmoving. “What kind of tea do you want?” She asked as she rifled through her cabinets. 

It dawned on Ariana that Grace didn’t seem entirely convinced by her own explanation of what was wrong with the cats. First meeting probably wasn’t the time to push on that though. She’d rather not be labelled the crazy neighbor before she even moved into the building. She opted to not push it any further. Instead, she offered a warm smile and said, “Good. It’ll be nice to get to know each other a little better anyway. I’ve never lived alone before, so having some neighbors who are friends sound nice.” At the mention of a trek, Ariana shrugged lightly and assured, “I do a lot of hiking and running. I don’t mind stairs. Elevators aren’t my favorite either, but I very generally don’t enjoy feeling confined.” She looked around the studio and noted it was pretty cozy. The smell of soup was very welcoming and made her stomach rumble slightly. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she was. “Mmm, it smells so good! I can’t wait to try it.” She took a seat at the small table near Grace’s kitchenette and asked, “Do you do a lot of cooking?” At her question, she responded, “Kind of? I like it a little better. It’s a bit of a sweeter meat though it can be pretty gamey if you don’t season it properly.” Not that she minded gamey, especially not in wolf form. Hell, not even in person form did she truly mind. “Next time I make venison stew or something, I’ll bring some by for you,” she added with a wide smile now mostly forgetting about the cats. “Oh, I’ll take Chai if you have it. I like black and green teas, too. I’m not like super picky or anything.” 

“Living alone is nice,” Grace nodded as if to amplify her words. She liked living alone, it meant that there wouldn’t be anybody else that interfered with the way she was feeling that day. Not to mention, it made figuring out how she was really feeling that much easier. “I don’t like being in small spaces either, but you wouldn’t know that given I work at the morgue.” “I don’t really cook, but I got reprimanded for continuing to eat mac ‘n cheese out of the microwave, so I got that..” She pointed to the instant pot in the corner, “and I’ve been making some soups that my Grandma used to make me.” She smiled fondly at the thought. “I’d love to try it, but no pressure.” She smiled at Ariana before she turned back towards the cabinets.  She grabbed the small canister of oolong from the back of the shelf and two biodegradable sachets. She filled them and dunked them into the mugs before she filled the kettle with water. Putting it onto the burner, she turned the heat on before leaning against the counter adjacent to it. “I have a really good oolong I brought from Portland, it’s my favorite.” It had been from her favorite tea shop, and she wondered if she’d have to go back in order to get a refill. She grabbed two bowls after grabbing a spoon. Grace held it tightly in her hand as she ladeled out the contents. She set one of the bowls in front of Ariana, and the other at her seat. “It has ginger and lemongrass in it, I hope that’s okay.” She waited by the stovetop for the water to finish boiling before taking it off. She filled the mugs and mimicked her actions by setting the cup down in front of her new friend. “There’s sugar in that little thing there,” she pointed at the elephant, “and if you want creamer, I have oat milk?” She smiled at Ariana as she picked up her spoon and stirred the soup around. 

The idea of living alone had never really appealed to Ariana. Maybe it was a werewolf pack mentality sort of thing or maybe it was because she never thought she’d have to live without Celeste. There was a hint of sadness to her tone as she agreed, “I’m sure it is.” At the mention of working at the morgue, she wondered if Grace knew Kaden’s girlfriend. She probably had to though given the fact Regan had wanted to find her sister’s body when there was none to find, it was probably better to not mention it. “The morgue, huh? That’s pretty cool. I guess that would be considered a small space.” The idea of being around all those bodies definitely wasn’t appealing to her. At the mention of microwave macaroni and cheese she shook her head. That was not how macaroni and cheese was supposed to be cooked. “Thank goodness for the instant pot then! Microwavable macaroni and cheese is… not great,” she responded with a laugh, “Soup is much better. Plus, family recipes sound fun.” She had plenty of things Celeste had shown her how to make though she had to admit, those things were harder for her to make now. She hadn’t even made waffles since Celeste died though maybe she could get back in the routine of it. Honor their tradition even though it was still bittersweet. As Grace made tea, the gentle scent of ginger and lemongrass reached her nose. She let out a content sigh. “It smells good and I love lemongrass. If it’s your favorite, I’m sure it’s great. Plus, I love Portland.” There was a soft smile on her face as she settled into her seat as Grace made tea. This was nice and brought a certain sense of comfort. It seemed they would be fast friends, weird cat incident aside and she looked forward to being neighbors. “Oat milk sounds perfect,” she said as she poured some in her mug and took a sniff before taking a small sip. “Mm,” she started, “ This is perfect. Thank you again for letting me wait out the whole cat thing here. I think we’ll definitely be doing this more in the future.”

[lloydskywalkers]

exposure therapy

Prompt three for @ninjago-angst-week , this one’s “hunger” - I’m taking a kind of...loose interpretation of it, I guess?? Listen hunger can go for a lot of things and I’ve been wanting to write something about Lloyd and abandonment issues for forever so!! That’s what this is.

it’s also the longest prompt yet oops 

(Takes place between s7 and s8!)

Lloyd is about four years old the first time someone leaves him and doesn’t come back.

He says about because he doesn’t really remember it all too well – he’s listened to the others bicker enough to know that technically you don’t start forming concrete memories until like, age five or something, and any that you do form before that you probably forget by the time you’re old enough to care.

Lloyd remembers the sting, though. In his eyes, that is – the ache in his chest was a whole lot worse than a sting, but it’s not like he’s going to spend that much time trying to describe it when he’s trying to get over it. And he is – over it, that is. He’s over being left alone on the doorsteps of some dumb school as a kid because no one cared enough to take him in. He’s over being the kid without a family for years and years because his parents left him and didn’t come back, because his uncle didn’t care enough to visit him, because clearly there was something wrong with him—

No, that’s – no, he reminds himself. They were busy, that’s all. With way more important things than some snot-nosed little kid who was pretty much useless at the time, and even better at causing trouble.

There’s nothing wrong with Lloyd. He’s over it, has been, and will continue to be, because someone in the mess that’s the family line of the First Master needs to have themselves together.

And if it does sting, sometimes, when he thinks about doorsteps and windows and how stupid he felt when he realized no one was coming back—

Well. It’s not worse than what the others have to deal with, is it? Lloyd should be thankful that’s all he’s been dealt.

(That and the whole, like, green-ninja-savior-of-the-world stuff, of course, but that’s — kinda whatever, at the moment. No one’s asked him to fight an ungodly being anytime recently, and Lloyd isn’t gonna complain.)

__ __ __ __

The thing about carefully constructing nice little (enormous) walls in your head to block out all the messy stuff is that, eventually, you’re going to have a few cracks in them to patch up. And while Lloyd’s dealt with those cracks before, he kind of wasn’t…really expecting this one.

“Oh,” he says, and he’s proud of how his voice doesn’t waver. Twice proud, really, because it’s been threatening to crack a lot lately, and that’s not just from emotion. “Yeah. That does make sense, I guess.”

Kai nods. “I mean, I don’t like the idea of us all splitting up, but it’s the best way to cover ground.”

“Additionally, this is a rare time in which Ninjago is not facing any immediate threat,” Zane chimes in. “If danger does occur, we should have plenty of time to regroup.”

Nya taps her foot. “I don’t like it,” she mutters. “And I don’t like leaving Ninjago City on its own.”

Especially with someone running around with my Samurai X armor on, is her unspoken complaint.

“We’re wasting time just sitting around like this,” Cole retorts. “The sooner we get out looking, the sooner we find Sensei, and the sooner we can come back.”

Lloyd looks down. The pain in Cole’s voice is obvious, and Lloyd knows he misses Sensei Wu. Lloyd misses him, too, but Cole’s always had a close sort of relationship with him.

Lloyd takes a breath. He’s leader now, right? Time to act like it.

“I can stay behind in the city,” he says, even as his brain gives him a nice little Lloyd what the heck warning. “That way I can keep an eye out for trouble, and listen for any tips on Sensei.”

Kai immediately looks concerned. Nya’s eyes spear into him. “You’re alright with that?”

Lloyd shrugs. “Finding Sensei’s first priority,” he says. “But someone’s gotta make sure the country doesn’t burn down.” He flashes Kai a smile. “Seriously, I’m taking the easy job from you guys. I’ll be fine.”

“Pixal can watch out for him on comms, as well,” Zane says, slowly. “That way you won’t be entirely on your own.” Kai nods at that, and Nya relaxes a bit.

Lloyd sours. He’s not a child anymore — they can stop treating him like one. They just made him leader, didn’t they?

A small part of him (a large part), though, has to admit that the thought of Pixal being with him brings no small amount of relief.

“Alright,” Lloyd says, trying to sound authoritative. “That’s it, then. We’ll split out at the end of the week. And we will find Sensei.”

“Fingers crossed,” Jay murmurs.

No one looks particularly excited about the plan, but they’re at least eager to start moving. Lloyd, for his part, takes the building amount of dread at the thought of watching them all leave, shoves it in a corner, and locks the door on it.

It’s not like they’re leaving-leaving. They’re coming right back, obviously. Lloyd is just – being paranoid, that’s all. His team is strong, and Kai definitely isn’t gonna go down to some low-level crooks while traveling the countryside.

(They aren’t like – her, either.)

And speaking of his family — Lloyd finds himself wondering, later, when exactly he started calling Wu sensei in his head, instead of uncle.

He thinks it might have been after Morro. That was around the time he started to feel like he didn’t have the right.

__ __ __ __

He says goodbye to the others at the end of the week. Jay and Cole are going together, and so are Kai and Zane.

He and Nya will be on their own.

No one is super excited about that development, either, but it makes sense. The guys are taking the more dangerous areas, so they’ll need backup. He and Nya can handle themselves just fine on their own – Lloyd isn’t even leaving the city. He’s got it easy.

Besides, the guys are used to working in groups. He and Nya are more experienced with functioning on their own. They’ve had to be, that’s all. They’re more familiar with fighting while knowing there’s no one watching your back.

They close up the monastery for now, everything in neat boxes and beds made indefinitely. They don’t pack much – either from convenience or hope that they won’t be away long, no one’s really sure. They say goodbye and make promises to check in as often as possible. Kai hugs Lloyd extra tight, his spiky hair ticking the top of Lloyd’s forehead as he’s crushed against him. Lloyd doesn’t mind, not even when he’s pretty sure Cole almost cracks a rib with his.

And then they leave, all trailing off in different directions, leaving Lloyd standing alone on the edge of the floating island, wind whipping cold through his hair, the monastery eerily silent behind him.

And it’s…

…he’s fine with it.

Like — there’s this weird sort of ache in his chest, kind of like he forgot to eat this morning, so he’s all empty and yearning inside, but that’s – that’s fine.

Perfectly fine.

__ __ __ __

It occurs to him, after he has what’s definitely not a breakdown that definitely does not last long at all, that he’s volunteered to look after Ninjago City, and Ninjago City is a considerable amount of distance from the Airjitzu Temple.

It hits him immediately after that moving to Ninjago City requires somewhere to live. He probably…should have thought of that before everyone left. Maybe he should call—

No. Lloyd shakes himself. He’s leader now. He can’t keep relying on the others for everything. He can find an apartment or something all by himself — how hard can it be, right? The guys found one for all of them back when they were a bunch of half-trained ninja and Lloyd still came up to about Kai’s knee. This is one apartment, for one person. And Lloyd’s got money — he thinks. Somewhere.

…maybe.

Stupid sensei creeds of peace and their obsession with not owning anything material—

Okay fine, so Lloyd’s got zip-zero-nada in the way of family inheritance, but his mother, who took off last week — yeah, she’s leaving too, big surprise —

Lloyd shoves down the spark of bitterness. Misako has better things to do than babysitting him, like finding Sensei Wu. And she did send him money, so he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling all empty about it. She’s made sure he’s not gonna starve and she sent him the name of a housing agent, Lloyd can’t ask for much more.

Maybe a nice landlord, but that’s about it.

__ __ __ __

On the list of bright sides to look at: finding an apartment isn’t as mind-numbingly difficult as he’d thought it’d be. He didn’t name drop or anything, but he did kinda have to fill out his full name on the application, so maybe that’s why. Either way, it wasn’t as bad as he’d worked it up to be, so that’s nice.

On the not so bright side — standing in the middle of his brand-new and also completely-empty apartment, it occurs to him that he should probably have asked for like, curtains, at the least. Or a table. How much do beds cost?

On the whole, though, it’s not a bad place. Really. Like – okay, he does need to get a bed and stuff in here, but – the walls are a nice color, and it’s got a little kitchenette off to the side, and the shower works, and the windows provide both a nice view and an easy way to slip outside to the rooftops. His neighbor is also pretty nice, in the way that he doesn’t hate Lloyd’s guts on sight, so that’s cool.

(Look, the way his life goes, guts-hating is just something you prepare for.)

His landlord is actually a landlady, and she’s mean, the kind of mean that makes Lloyd think of one of his Darkley’s teachers. But she’s got about eight cats that roam about the apartment at will, and she lets Lloyd bring in the stragglers he finds late at night on patrol and adopts them sometimes, so Lloyd could honestly care less if she actually was a teacher at Darkley’s. He gets to pet cats! On a daily basis!

(And maybe cry into the fatter one’s fur at two in the morning when he stumbles in from patrol sometimes but nobody needs to know that part.)

It’s like he’s off to college, he tells himself as he stares at the ceiling trying to fall asleep, in the apartment that’s completely empty except for him. If college was a full-time job that included regularly getting shot at by criminals and the police on the occasional bad night, of course, and if he’d actually finished high school, which he’s pretty sure you have to do if you want to get into college…he thinks. School is not a strong point for Lloyd, considering about eighty percent of his education came from Jay, Nya and Zane trying to stuff advanced algebra down his brain.

Either way, the analogy holds. Lloyd can just pretend he’s off to college, and before he knows it he’ll be back home and everyone else will be too. They’ll all come back.

They will.

__ __ __ __

He likes to think he has reason for being scared about it all the time, even though he’s the green ninja and team leader now so he shouldn’t be scared, much less of something this stupid, but it just. It blends together, sometimes. Whether he’s watching through cage bars or lingering after a funeral, held on the edge of a plane or standing on the deck of the Bounty while war rages below.

People leave. That’s life, that’s all.

That doesn’t mean Lloyd has to like it, but he does have to live with it. And he’s gotten really, really good at that.

__ __ __ __

He starts a growing list of bright sides to focus on, in what’s totally not a desperate attempt to keep up the optimism angle. His first attempts are decorating his apartment, which is actually kinda fun. He scrounges up a couch somehow and sinks entirely too much of his budget on little house plants and cool wall prints he finds in the market, and he probably didn’t need the little dragon lamp, but Mystake pawned it off on him when he stopped in for tea one day, so he starts basing the general aesthetic around that. See, bright sides.

Another one of these bright sides is that Ninjago City starts putting in sky trams the week he moves in to his apartment.

He’s a little wary, at first. Sky trams are like subways but in the sky, which means a whole lot more trouble if someone decides to hijack a subway and hold it hostage, or something. But then he pulls himself up on the roof, clambers over onto a station, takes a few tentative steps out over the thick steel cables, and — oh yeah, he gets it now. Lloyd’s never been scared of heights, and dangling this high above the city, skipping over traffic jams and cutting his patrol time in half, is something he can definitely get used to.

He gets in a whole lot of trouble the first few days for scaring the operators half to death, but all in all — worth it. Once the trams start running he trades the cables for the top of the cars, letting them steer him wherever they want in the city. It’s got a pretty great view of the sunset, which he’s been missing since leaving the Airjitzu temple, and the others are gonna love it when they come back.

Because they are coming back.

Lloyd’s just dangling one leg over the edge of the sky tram, considering dangling the other so he can drum them both on the side of the empty car, when his phone blares loudly and nearly sends all of him off the sky tram side.

“Hello?” he manages, clinging to the side of the sky tram with one hand, holding the phone to his ear with the other.

“Lloyd!” Kai’s voice is loud and cheerful over the phone, and Lloyd winces at the volume. “Hey bud, how’s it goin’? I didn’t catch you in the middle of anything, did I?”

Lloyd watches where his feet dangle over open air, the city far down below. “Nah,” he says, and carefully pulls himself back up. “Just finishing up patrol. How — how are you doing? Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, we’re good,” Kai assures him. “Just stuck between towns for the night, Zane didn’t wanna drive anymore.”

“Good for him,” Lloyd says. He bites his lip. “So uh, any luck?”

Kai sighs heavily over the phone. “Not yet,” he says. His voice picks up in determination. “But we’re still looking. We’ll find him, okay? No one’s giving up yet.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd exhales what might be a laugh. “I know.” He glances toward the horizon, the setting sun leaving white spots in his vision. “How’s it been, though, for you? Where all have you guys gone so far?”

“Oh man, we’ve been everywhere—“

Lloyd leans back on the roof of the sky tram as Kai fills him in on their ongoings. He closes his eyes, letting the conversation wash over him, Zane’s voice occasionally interjecting a point as Kai argues back.

Lloyd swallows. Kai’s voice is warm and familiar, and he feels a sudden ache of homesickness so bad that tears almost prick at his eyes.

Get it together, he thinks frantically, swiping at his left eye. It hasn’t even been a month yet.

“Lloyd?” Kai’s voice has turned uncertain. “You okay?”

Lloyd startles up, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah I’m good,” he says, quickly. “Just a little tired. My uh, my landlady has a bunch of cats? And I stayed up late chasing one down last night.”

Kai snorts loudly. “I feel like you’re gonna have a lot of stories about cats when we get back,” he sighs, and the hollow part in Lloyd’s chest warms at the fond note in his voice.

“Or a couple cats.”

“Yeah, sure, good luck with that.” Lloyd can hear the grin in Kai’s voice. “Aw — shoot, I gotta go, but I’ll check back in, okay? In the meantime, take care of yourself before the cats, Master Lloyd.”

Lloyd rolls his eyes. “Will do, mom.”

“And that’s enough snark from you this evening, young man.”

Lloyd tells Kai goodbye on a laugh, and waits for him to end the call first. The evening grows unusually quiet without Kai’s voice to fill the silence, and Lloyd bites his lip.

Master Lloyd, he thinks absently, swinging his leg out over the edge as he watches the lights of the city turn on down below. He snorts without humor.

What does it say, he wonders, that they make him master, then immediately decide to jet off all over the country before he can actually lead them?

Probably something bad, Lloyd thinks to himself. He shakes his head, stifling a yawn. He’s too tired to even imagine what the others’ answers to that question would be. It’s not like they’re here to voice them, anyways, and Lloyd would probably get them wrong.

__ __ __ __

Kai’s text comes in clockwork as promised, reminding him to eat and take care of himself and eat, please, something other than just junk food. Nya’s follows almost immediately after, reminding him to do laundry and take care and take a shower, I know you’ve been skipping—

Normally Lloyd might have some snappy remark to send back about mother hens. This time he ends up staring at the texts until his eyes water, the empty ache in his chest growing tight. Half of him is considering blocking off his schedule so he can video call them for a couple hours, like they used to pester him with when he was off being the Golden Ninja around Ninjago, when his dad was still—

Right. Anyways. The team stays solid on their promise to keep in touch, and two hours later he gets a text from Jay. It’s a slightly blurry picture of him throwing the camera the peace sign as Cole struggles with camping gear, with a quick “hope you’re doing alright!” that follows after.

Lloyd laughs at the expression on Cole’s face, then spends the next two hours trying not to cry into his pillow, because yes, he’s that pathetic.

He wants to go home.

But see – it’s stupid, ‘cause he can’t. He can’t go home, because there is no home to go home to. His home ran off all over Ninjago and sure, while he can call them, he can’t go home to them because there isn’t – a home that’s home because they’re all there anymore.

“I mean, that probably doesn’t make any sense to you,” he finishes, ducking his head. “But that’s like…where I’m at.”

“No, I believe I understand.” Pixal’s voice is soft over his car’s radio. “Your home is people, and they’re out of reach from you. You could run to them, but there’s no guarantee they will stay.”

“Yeah, that’s — that’s exactly it,” Lloyd blinks.

Pixal makes a quiet noise. “My home is a person as well, Lloyd,” she admits. Her voice turns rueful. “But I cannot go anywhere. Not really.”

“Oh.” Lloyd’s stomach twists. Geez, he’s here feeling sorry for himself when Pixal doesn’t even have a body. Why doesn’t she have a body? They should get on that—

“Don’t worry yourself about it,” Pixal says gently. “I am fine. And our people will return, we just have to be patient. It’s only been a month.”

“Just a month?” Lloyd glances at his phone, checking the tiny digital calendar. His eyes catch the date ahead and his stomach turns. Oh. He hadn’t known that date was — that soon.

He quickly thinks of something else.

“Hey,” Lloyd says, breaking the silence. “What if I like – what if we snatched some old robot model from Mr. Borg for the day, and we checked out that new market downtown?”

Pixal is quiet for a beat, and the silence sounds almost guilty. “That wouldn’t — I’m afraid that’s not quite possible at the moment.”

“Oh.” It’s Lloyd’s turn to fall quiet for a moment. Then—

“Okay, but what if I brought you with me as a radio? I can just lug it around the whole time, and you can look at – aw, shoot, you gotta be able to see too – what if I brought you as like, my phone or something, like a laptop and I just have Skype running the whole time—“

Pixal sighs. “The radio will work just fine.” Her voice is more amused than exasperated, and Lloyd feels a wild surge of relief that he didn’t just drive her away, too.

__ __ __ __

Look, he knows he didn’t drive them away. Okay? He gets that they needed to split up. And he’s used to it. People leave all the time, and he should just be glad this isn’t one of the permanent ones. Because he’s had a lot of people leave him for really, really long times, too. He’s used to it.

The only problem there is that if he is, in fact, used to it, he should be desensitized to it, and not – feel as much, about it.

It’s not even like they leave him, really. It’s Lloyd. Lloyd is the one complicating things or driving people away or failing one too many times or just – sending them to Cursed Realms and losing them in a time stream because he couldn’t—

It’s Lloyd. He can’t go blaming them for his own issues.

Besides, it’s not like this time is – it’s not the same. Again, the ninja aren’t leaving-leaving him. They’re splitting up for a mission, they’ll be back.

This isn’t like with Zane. They’ll be back, on their own this time. Lloyd won’t have to wear them down, or lure them to a tournament, or anything. This is different.

It’s different, he tells himself fiercely, staring up at the cracked ceiling of his apartment, the ceiling fan drifting in slow, dizzy circles. This is different.

__ __ __ __

On Lloyd’s list of Things He’s Never Going To Voice Out Loud, To Any Sane Person: sometimes he feels like Morro’s still in his head.

Like – it’s trauma, he gets that. It’s bad memories and flashbacks and whatever acronym Zane keeps throwing at him that Lloyd can’t remember.

But sometimes the voice is just – it’s Morro’s grating timbre pitch for pitch, all mocking and bitter and sneaking up on him at the worst of times. Like right now, when it’s been two weeks since he last heard from anyone, and the silence in his apartment is getting too loud.

It’s you, the voice’ll say. That’s why they left. They grew tired of you. You drove them away.

Shut up, Lloyd thinks.

You’re not useful to them anymore, you know that, right? You couldn’t even save your own uncle, much less lead anyone. Why would they keep you around after that?

Shut up! Lloyd thunks his head against the wall, eyes squeezing shut tight. A throbbing pain echoes from the impact, and he winces.

Oops, he thinks, staring dully at the dent in the bathroom wall. Of all the things to get charged extra rent for.

Lloyd shakes his head, as if to shake off the thoughts as well. His wet hair swings out as he does, sending little droplets all over the bathroom mirror. Lloyd makes a face. As if he needed more evidence that his hair is getting too long.

And it is, really. His usual haircut’s almost entirely grown out, shiny blond locks long enough that they can form wavy little curls now. Lloyd brushes one from his face as he digs through the cluttered drawer of his bathroom vanity for scissors. It’s taking him a minute, because it’s a bit of a mess, but he’s not going to just admit that, not when Pixal’s been hounding him about cleaning your bathroom a lot lately.

It’s not like she has to live here, Lloyd grumbles to himself. He snatches the scissors from the bottom of the drawer, running a hand through the tangles in his hair and preparing to cut it back into the more familiar style—

Lloyd’s hand suddenly hesitates, his fingers stilling on the scissors.

It’s his father’s style. He’s known that. But looking in the mirror right now, at the sharper edge of his cheekbones and the dark red of his eyes, he realizes that he’s starting to match a little too—

Lloyd swallows. And there’s a reminder. He’d almost forgotten, that the date’s coming up. He isn’t gonna call it an anniversary, because that makes it sound like a celebration, and it’s definitely not, it’s just…an unfortunate date, in Lloyd’s history.

At any rate, he won’t match his dad. Not when his dad’s dead.

And who killed him, I wonder.

Lloyd chucks the scissors back in the drawer so hard he’s pretty sure he hears them break. He slams the drawer shut, exhaling shakily.

You know what, he’s kind of liking the feel of longer hair right now. It looks okay, he thinks. It looks like — well, Lloyd, he guesses.

__ __ __ __

His bathroom is a mess, though. Lloyd should probably clean it. He should probably call the others, too , just because — well, he needs to — he’s leader, so—

He needs an excuse.

Lloyd sighs, toeing the bathroom door shut. Aw, whatever. He can clean it tomorrow.

__ __ __ __

With the benefit of hindsight, Lloyd should probably retract his earlier claim that he’s used to fighting on his own enough not to screw up.

Probably because he screws up.

It’s not even his fault, really. How was he supposed to know that the rumors about the local biker gang getting more aggressive were under-exaggerated? They’re bikers, Lloyd can explode stuff with his hands, it should’ve been an easy fight.

And it was, right up until the part where the biker with the red mask whipped a gun out and shot him through the leg.

Jerk move, Lloyd thinks hazily, half-hopping through his apartment door, trying to stop at least some blood from getting all over the floor. Real jerk move.

He didn’t even catch the guy, either, which makes this whole thing so much worse, he thinks darkly to himself, as he stumbles his way to the bathroom. He probably should’ve just sucked it up and checked himself into the hospital, but Lloyd hates the hospital, and it’s really not that bad. He’s got plenty of medical supplies he stuffed in the sink cabinet of the bathroom, so he can just — patch it up with that real quick, then sleep it off.

You can’t sleep off a gunshot wound, Zane’s voice echoes in his head, and Lloyd blocks it out, carefully lowering himself down to the floor so he can—

His leg suddenly shifts wrong, and it flares in an agony so fiery that Lloyd’s vision goes white for a beat, a high-pitched keening echoing like a bomb’s been set off in his face, except it’s not his face it’s his leg, FSM that hurts, that hurts—

Lloyd braces himself on his forearms, drawing in strained breaths through his nose. It’ll stop hurting in a minute, he knows it will. He just has to give it time. But in the meantime, it’d be really nice — if he could just be sure — it’d be nice to ask Zane, you know, or have like, Nya here, or Kai, or—

The pain in his leg is finally starting to subside, but Lloyd’s still swallowing a sob. He wants his family here. He wants them here now, right now, so they can make it better—

His leg throbs again, and anger lights in his gut. No, you know what? He doesn’t want to see them. He doesn’t want them to come back, because he’s angry at them — he’s angry, they left him here alone and they should feel bad about it, should feel bad that Lloyd’s here all alone with his stupid leg bleeding everywhere, should feel bad when Lloyd doesn’t even wanna see them because he wants them to feel how he feels, all torn up and scared and dumb and miserable—

Lloyd exhales on a gasp, and the dam breaks.

He’s being an idiot, he tells himself fiercely, through hot tears. That’s something nine-year-old brat-from-hell Lloyd would think. Of course he wants them back. It’s not their fault Sensei went missing. None of this is their fault, Lloyd would give his right arm to have them back right now, if he could.

It’s not their fault Lloyd is—

Fine.

He’s fine.

Mostly.

__ __ __ __

Patching his leg is easy, once he manages to stop crying and choke the painkiller down.

Lloyd scrubs at his eyes, sniffling miserably. His nose is horribly stuffed and his head feels like it’s about to explode, but the awful need to sob is finally ebbing into residual shudders that leave Lloyd wrung out, miserable, and just – exhausted, he’s exhausted, that’s the word. Tired. He’s tired of getting up and feeling miserable every day, he’s tired of feeling sorry for himself, he’s tired of missing everyone, and he’s really, stupid tired of bikers that get lucky hits in when he’s got his guard down.

He stares at the dirty floor through grainy eyes. There’s blood all over the linoleum tile, and an old stain right by his foot that looks a lot like dried blood. It probably is blood, he thinks. And now he’s just adding more. Gross.

That’s…probably unsanitary.

On second thought, Pixal has a point. Lloyd does need to clean the bathroom already.

__ __ __ __

Several hours later finds Lloyd on one knee — the other is sprawled out awkwardly as it occasionally sparks green, which he’s ignoring right now — the sleeves of his too-large hoodie pulled up and his hair pushed back by the hideous purple-blue tye-die headband that’d been on sale at the checkout counter when he’d picked up groceries a while back.

He’s hauled the radio into the bathroom, and it’s playing some new synth-pop music that echoes weirdly off the tiles. He thinks he might like the music — that or he’s just been listening to it for too long.

His nose wrinkles as he strains further over the shower floor, scrubbing harder at a particularly stubborn stain. He’s really gotta start taking better care of this place, he thinks.

His leg twinges, and he winces, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

He should…probably start taking better care of himself, while he’s at it. He’s been doing a pretty sucky job, apparently.

Lloyd just wasn’t meant to live alone, he decides dully. It doesn’t suit him.

__ __ __ __

By the fifth day out Lloyd’s leg is starting to heal up pretty nicely. There’s a very large part of him that suspects the unusually quick healing time has something to do with the vivid green that’s bleeding into his irises, growing by the day. He’s not sure where suddenly having green eyes gets off equating to accelerated powers, but he can walk to the grocery store before he starves, so he’ll take it.

He buys himself enough to last a few weeks, which ends up being one grocery bag too many, so climbing the stairs to his apartment is a pain, especially when Minerva, the fat cat, runs between his feet and almost trips him back down the stairs. He finally manages to reach his floor and shakes the key from his jacket, balances the grocery bags in one hand, and keys the door open.

And promptly has a heart attack.

“Hey, about time!” Kai says brightly — Kai says brightly, where he’s sprawled across his cheap sofa, in his apartment.

Why is he in his apartment? Lloyd blinks once, hard. Still there. Is he hallucinating—?

“Need help with those?”

Nya is suddenly in his apartment too, grabbing a grocery bag from him and setting it over by the kitchenette.

“Sorry we didn’t warn you,” Cole says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, and — FSM, are they all here? “Pixal told us where you lived, so we’d all planned to meet here, and I guess we…kinda all…forgot to tell you.”

“We all assumed the other group would,” Zane says, spearing Cole with a look. “Our apologies for barging in.”

“It’s a great apartment, though!” Jay exclaims, where he’s bent over his book case. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into the whole interior design thing, but this is pretty nice.”

“Admit it, you were betting he’d moved into another volcano,” Kai snorts.  “Seriously though, green machine, how many plants do you need—“

“Leave him alone, I like the plants, I think they’re a nice touch—“

“Lloyd?” Nya’s voice is suddenly quiet. “Are you alright? I really am sorry we didn’t call first.”

Lloyd just stares at her with the same blank look he’s been staring at them all with for the last few minutes, still frozen in place. Is this what shock feels like? a part of him wonders.

“You’re here,” he says, blankly. “You’re all — here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jay says, as if it’s obvious. “We said we were gonna check in, right? You didn’t get hit in the head while we were gone, did you?”

Nya whacks him on the shoulder. “Of course we’re here,” she says. “Your apartment is super easy to break into, you know. Gotta get a better lock.”

“Oh,” Lloyd says, weakly. “Um. Yeah. I — sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting, I guess. You guys to come now, that is.”

The mood suddenly shifts, and Lloyd’s not sure to what, but they don’t look as bright and happy anymore. Kai lifts a shoulder, then drops it, suddenly looking a little unsure. “I guess we should’ve checked, about the date,” he admits. “But we, uh, we just wanted to be here, for you.”

Lloyd blinks rapidly. “You wanted – why?”

Kai looks at Cole, chewing on the inside of his cheek briefly. “Well it’s…the day your dad got banished, isn’t it?”

The breath rushes from Lloyd’s lungs like a freight train, and oh. Oh. They remembered. They remembered, all by themselves, and they came back without him even asking, and—

“Oh,” Lloyd says, quietly.

Kai looks stricken. “Oh no,” he says. “You’re not going to cry. Lloyd, please, every time you go off I go off, so don’t — oh Lloyd, no.”

He tries, okay? He tries to stop it. But the cracks in his walls have turned to cracks in a dam, and the dam’s gotten a lot higher than he realized, and the cracks are suddenly big and torn and gaping—

Lloyd opens his mouth to reply and ends up hiccuping out a sob instead. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I just—“ he wipes fiercely at his eyes. “I really missed you guys, and that’s — that’s really nice of you, and—“

“FSM, Kai, suck it up.” Cole’s eyes are sympathetic, and suddenly Lloyd is in a very warm and very tight embrace. “This isn’t about you.”

“That’s not what I—!”

Kai cuts his own self off and joins the hug, and then Nya’s there, and a couple more arms that are Zane and Jay and Lloyd’s kind of suffocating a bit because the AC still isn’t on yet, but—

They came back.

Oh wow, Lloyd really wasn’t fine about that, was he.

__ __ __ __

They all stay in Lloyd’s apartment that night, which is a horrible decision, because he’s got one bed and one couch that shouldn’t really be called a couch, and there’s no room at all, but it’s free, Jay argues, so they can suck it up for the night.

They do, and Zane makes dinner with the few edible items Lloyd has and it actually tastes good,  Cole gets music on and Jay’s chattering with Nya and Kai’s hounding him about his hair, and it’s the loudest Lloyd’s apartment has been in months.

His landlady’s gonna give him heck about it, but Lloyd can’t find it in himself to care. He spends that night on his terrible sofa, crammed up between Nya and Kai with his cheek smushed into Kai’s shoulder, listening to Cole snore a room over, and it’s easier to fall into a sleepy lull than it’s ever been here.

“Hey,” Nya whispers to him, after Kai’s breathing evens out. “I really missed you, by the way.”

Lloyd rubs at his eye, yawning. “I missed you too,” he murmurs. “I mean, it hasn’t been awful, but—“

“Being alone sucks,” Nya finishes. “A lot. I miss everyone.”

Lloyd is quiet. “I do too,” he finally whispers.

“It’s too quiet,” Nya continues. “I keep having to blare music so I don’t lose it.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Lloyd whispers. “Hey, have you heard, uh — it’s that weird sort of synth music—“

“The only thing they play on the hits channel now?”

“Yeah, that one. It’s not half bad.”

“Please tell me that’s not what you’ve been listening too, Lloyd. I thought you had taste—“

Lloyd stuffs down a giggle, burying his head into the couch. He knows it’s not gonna last much longer, and soon they’ll be off again, but—

They’ll be back. And for now, with them here—

That aching hunger in his chest doesn’t feel as much like starving.

[andersunmenschlich]

Episode 18: The Man Upstairs

All right—let’s see how long this one takes me. Listening, writing, listening, writing....

[August 8, 2020: begin!]

This statement was given in December 2008 by someone named Kristoff Rudenko, and has to do with (as the episode title might suggest) a man who lived in the apartment above the one our statement-giver moved into sometime in 2002, later in the year. Apparently the place was called Welbeck House.

I have some experience with people living above me. The apartments I choose as a photosensitive tend to have people upstairs of them. What can I say? Basements are nice when light hates you.

Kristoff saw the man for the first time the day he moved in.

According to our statement-giver, the man was leaning out of his window, smoking... while wearing a hooded jacket pulled up so tight it obscured most of his face. Now, I don’t smoke, but that seems like a rather odd way of doing it to me. Surely it can’t be that convenient to stick something into your mouth while you’ve got your face all wrapped up? At least I’ve never seen anyone doing it that way. Even in quite cold weather people seem to prefer to leave their faces mostly exposed while smoking.

The weather on this particular day, Kristoff says, was gray and overcast with the possibility of rain later. Hmm. Is this the type of weather in which one would wear a coat while still technically indoors? This is a genuine question: I’m a cold person in many ways, and often wear jackets when others wouldn’t.

Well, perhaps it is that cold, or perhaps the man upstairs also possesses an unnaturally low body temperature.

He certainly possesses an unusual odor. Our statement-giver describes it as “halfway between the smell of a pavement after rain on a hot day and chicken that’s starting to turn,” which is difficult for me to imagine.

The man, leaning out his upstairs window, watches Kristoff move in for a while. Then, between one trip and another, he vanishes. Presumably he finished whatever the heck it was that he was smoking. One wonders: did the smell come from him, or from his unhealthy little treat? Our statement-giver doesn’t tell us what it was the man was smoking, forcing us to make do with the vague conclusion that it must have been something common for the time and location.

Wandsworth near London, later in the year 2002... a cigarette?

It could, of course, have been a cigar, a pipe, a marijuana roll-up, a hookah, or almost anything else, since we’re not told—but I assign higher probability to a cigarette than to any other possibility.

...Ha. Why, yes: I do have a certain fondness for precise and detailed information. However could you tell.

Speaking of precise and detailed information, Kristoff admits he had no idea whether the man upstairs was a man, he just decided to assume—which is an admission I like, because frankly I think admitting you’re making an assumption is a step up from making the assumption and apparently never even noticing that it is an assumption, and might be incorrect.

Kristoff also gives us more information about his own internal workings by letting us know that, despite not knowing why, he was “slightly spooked” by the encounter. Something in this other tenant’s manner, he says, shook him.

Well, being stared at by someone for the better part of half an hour might be a bit unsettling, don’t you think? Smell or no smell.

The man upstairs is apparently reclusive and stays quietly in his own place most of the time, with only his smell wandering around bothering people. Kristoff has another go at describing it and comes up with “rotten and earthy,” but also notes that it stays out of his place—which I think is interesting, don’t you? In my experience living downstairs from people, scents come right on down, floors and ceilings no obstacle to their passage.

Despite this, Kristoff gets in the habit of burning scented candles. Of course, all candles have a scent. I have a habit of using candles and lamps for lighting, and I’m familiar with the various odors—but specially scented candles are, I think, nice when you’re in the mood for them.

Returning to Kristoff Rudenko: Things were pretty all right for the first two years.

In 2004, however, the banging started.

It’s the day before our statement-giver’s 37th birthday, and he’s clearly planning one of the many sorts of party that I don’t enjoy, since he’s unpacking a whole crate of beer when the noise begins.

Ten minutes of banging, which seems to start on one of the walls in the apartment above, but then moves to the floor, and is vigorous enough to make our story-teller’s light sway with the force of it. This hammering carries on (presumably moving the whole time) for nearly a full hour. Kristoff, despite being the social, party-throwing type, apparently has enough normalcy in him that he does not want to interact with the tenant in the flat above him, and so he simply puts up with the noise until it stops.

This reminds me, for no particular reason, of the time Walmart was selling coconuts for fifty cents.

I bought one. I brought it home. And then I spent far too long trying to get the confounded thing open. Really I should have given up the instant I tasted the milk after holing and draining it—that liquid did not taste right—but I’ve never liked coconut milk and so I thought perhaps that was the problem.

When, after what felt like a small eternity of increasingly vigorous abuse, the coconut finally cracked open, I was delighted. The people upstairs from me were probably also pleased, though I really couldn’t say for certain.

In any case, the coconut was exactly what I should have expected for 50¢.

Kristoff Rudenko has his party, and manages to annoy the family across the hall so much that they actually come and ask him to turn his music down. He, meanwhile, is pleased that the man upstairs is apparently back to being a thoughtful neighbor. I wonder how many people are actually aware of their own hypocrisy? “Boy, I’m sure glad that one neighbor isn’t annoying me! This way I can focus on annoying my other neighbors. Whew. Big relief.”

The man upstairs is quiet for another two weeks—then, apparently, it’s hammer time again. Walls first, then floor, and after about an hour, silence again.

Every two weeks.

Must say, that would aggravate me, too... and I’ve been putting up with random banging and unannounced water shut-offs since I moved into this new place at the very end of May. Sharing space with other living things? Not, in my experience, an excellent idea.

Furthermore, buying an apartment in Welbeck House is essentially the same as buying a very small house built right up against your neighbors’ houses, so....

No landlord. No housing association, even.

Kristoff Rudenko carries on not talking to his upstairs neighbor about this regular percussive behavior, and simply stews for about six months, at which point the mail service accidentally delivers a package meant for his neighbor to him instead. It’s not a box package, mind you. It’s one of those shipping envelopes for smaller packages, and is apparently simply stuffed with padding (not a bad idea when sending anything even slightly breakable through the mail).

Finally, Kristoff goes upstairs and knocks on the door of the flat above his own, taking along the package addressed to that flat—a package meant for someone named Mr. Toby Carlisle. It’s an excuse, you see. Now he’s not just there to complain, he’s making a delivery and incidentally mentioning that Mr. Carlisle’s banging and thumping is bothering him.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how difficult people sometimes find it to complain about perfectly complainable things? And yet at other times they’ll throw a completely unwarranted tantrum over something as silly as a store being out of pennies.

Truly, humans are fascinating.

[August 9, 2020: continuing]

Mr. Toby Carlisle seems to have had an effect on the place where he lives. The wooden door looks older and more beat up than any of the other apartment doors in Welbeck House (which, according to Kristoff Rudenko, all seem to have been replaced fairly recently), and the carpet directly in front of the door is a bit stained, like something’s leaked out from Mr. Carlisle’s flat. Also, there’s no apartment number, no nameplate, nothing to identify the place or show who lives there.

I suppose that might explain the misdelivery. Bit difficult to get packages to a place with no address or name on it, isn’t it?

Kristoff knocks on the door.

No one answers.

He knocks again.

This time he can hear someone coming towards the door—but the possibly carpet-muffled footsteps stop on the other side of the door and then there’s just nothing for a while. Total silence. Our statement-giver is about to knock again when, unexpectedly, the door opens.

It doesn’t open much. Just a crack. But it’s enough for Kristoff to A) see that there don’t seem to be any lights on in the place, B) get hit by a whole lot of horrible smell, and C) tell that there’s someone standing there.

“What do you want?” apparently-Toby-Carlisle asks.

Kristoff Rudenko does the package thing. You know: “Uh, I got a package for—are you—?” and so on.

Silence again. Then, suddenly, a thin and pale hand with long and dirty yellow fingernails and a dark red mark that might be an injury of some kind on the back of it shoots out and snatches the package. The door slams.

Well, it’s not a terribly polite way of receiving packages, is it?

Adding lack of proper cleanliness to the other charges, this Toby Carlisle left a disgusting smear of some sort of thick, off-white liquid on Kristoff Rudenko’s jacket sleeve when he so rudely grabbed the package from him, and the stuff smells terrible. In fact our statement-giver says he had to throw the jacket away because the unbearable smell would not come out.

Really now. Is it so difficult to maintain a level of hygiene such that you don’t leave rotting goop on everything you touch?

Kristoff Rudenko, it seems, decided not to knock on the door again and broach the subject of the fortnightly banging. Frankly I can understand his desire to go away and not come back, but it seems to me that he’s unlikely to get a better opportunity.

“Yes, one more thing,” he could say. “That hammering you do every two weeks; what on earth are you doing? And is there no way to do it a little more quietly?”

He’s right there at the door, after all. It’s a very convenient location.

Instead, Kristoff goes away and doesn’t try again. “That was it for a long time,” he says. “The man upstairs was named Toby and he was a disgusting shut-in who smelled rancid and occasionally made hammering noises. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something I could understand and live with. Two years passed like this, and I had almost forgotten about him, to be honest. He had become just another part of my life, and could be lived around.”

I find that remarkable. How does one forget about continual eruptions of horrible noise? Even “almost”? It seems like the kind of thing which would drive me absolutely bonkers.

And I speak from current as well as past experience, because the “temporary maintenance issue” that’s still, after more than two months, waking me up in the middle of the day and shutting my water off at inconvenient moments... this isn’t a thing I’m likely to forget about, nor even almost forget about.

It’s very annoying.

But Kristoff Rudenko, it would seem, has managed this apparently impossible thing, and so he didn’t really think about Toby Carlisle until late 2007.

[August 13, 2020: back from work]

At this point, our statement-giver has decided to move to Sheffield to be closer to his ailing mother, and so he’s trying to sell his place. This is difficult, because eventually every prospective buyer asks the looming question: “What’s that smell?” The third set of viewers even points out a stain on the living room ceiling, which they assume is the result of a leaky pipe.

I’m pretty sure it’s not a leaky pipe.

Kristoff tries to get hold of a plumber, but for some reason they can’t get to him before next week. So he has to wait, and in the meantime the smell gets worse and the stain gets... stainier.

“As it grew, it started to turn a dark yellow in color, and glistened ever so slightly when the light hit it.”

Doesn’t sound much like anything you’d expect to come out of domestic piping. I’m reminded of blood plasma, or melted fat—both of which I’d expect to smell rather worse than simply “rotten and earthy,” though I suppose the second one might smell a bit like “chicken that’s starting to turn.” Hmm.

In any case, Toby Carlisle isn’t answering his door anymore.

When the male plumber turns up, he touches the ceiling and it just... collapses. Kristoff Rudenko describes it as “buckling and tearing like wet cardboard.”

Disgusting gunk comes out of it, too. Sickly yellow fluid with viscous white lumps, you say? No, that doesn’t sound like anything I’d expect to find in a ceiling (nor in a floor, come to that).

Kristoff Rudenko throws up.

The plumber, presumably due to lots of experience with gross things, only looks like he’s about to throw up, and excuses himself.

[August 15, 2020: continuing]

Once he finishes vomiting, Kristoff Rudenko is furious with the man upstairs. Understandably. What sort of horrible neighbor does a thing like that to someone else’s ceiling? Come to that, what kind of person would do something so repulsive to their own floor? Whatever type of individual this is, they’re clearly one in need of punishment.

You see, it’s not a good idea to let people do things which inconvenience others too greatly. Even if they’re not harming you at the moment, they may in future—or others, following their example, may. Deviation from standard social behavior is only acceptable to a point.

Storming upstairs to pound on your neighbor’s door, you may say, seems like a bit of a deviation from standard social behavior.

This is true.

When punishing someone for deviant behavior, it’s acceptable to deviate a bit yourself. This is part of what makes it so satisfying, I think: when punishing someone else for hurting you, you’re allowed to hurt them. Allowed, you understand? So long as you don’t seem to harm the person in question more than those around believe they harmed you, you have a free pass.

Since this Toby Carlisle has actually damaged a place in which multiple people live, Kristoff Rudenko is free to tell him off considerably. Maybe even hit him, if he seems belligerent or particularly unrepentant.

It’s a very good situation for Kristoff.

When he begins to bang on the door and shout for the man upstairs to come out or he’ll call the police to fetch him out, the door swings open slightly.

It isn’t locked. I wonder how long it hasn’t been locked? I wonder how heavy the door is, that normal knocking wouldn’t push it open (and pounding only moves it slightly). Maybe the carpet’s especially thick, because Kristoff Rudenko has trouble opening it. He manages to get it open enough to allow passage, but for some reason can’t open it all the way.

He fumbles for a light switch, and finds one. There’s something on the wall beside the switch, though: something soft and wet.

The light comes on.

Someone’s been redecorating. Now, personally, I don’t understand the urge. I only started putting things on my walls after a visitor commented on their utter blankness—something about how it didn’t look like a human lived there.

I am, of course, human. Human, human, human. Just look at my neck!

That said, it seemed to me that it might be a good idea to decorate a bit more, and so I put up a few reproductions of classic paintings.

...I was later informed that this, too, was somehow suspicious. Really, I don’t know what anyone expects from a normal apartment. Mine has floors. It has walls. It has ceilings. I’ve put towels and washcloths in the bathroom and kitchen, a jacket in the closet by the door, clothing in the closet in the bedroom; I’ve got a toothbrush, toothpaste, a sleeping bag, and even some food in the fridge—and perhaps most importantly, I have not plastered any of the surfaces in my apartment with meat, either raw or cooked. What could be more normal?

At the very least, I think it’s fair to say that Toby Carlisle’s apartment is considerably more abnormal than mine.

“The light that came on was weak and tinged with red, but it was enough to see by. I looked around, and saw that every surface, the walls, the floor, the tables, everything except the curtained windows, was covered in meat.

“Steaks, chunks of chicken, even a whole leg of what I assume was once lamb, had been nailed everywhere. There were layers of it, the newest additions simply stuck on top of the old, and a putrid yellow-white rot could be seen where the oldest pieces had long since turned to liquid. Flies buzzed thick in the air, and maggots carpeted the place. Looking up, I saw the light too, had been smeared with meat, causing the place to be bathed in that dull red light.”

Now, I have no objection to red light, particularly when it’s not especially bright. In fact I prefer it. But this method of obtaining it doesn’t seem sanitary.

Our statement-giver doesn’t tell us whether the meat in question is cooked or uncooked. Perhaps he can’t tell. Once piece of it, however, is probably uncooked: the body of Toby Carlisle, lying in the hallway. The face is no longer hidden, and apparently it’s so riddled with holes that Kristoff can’t tell where the eyes used to be.

This seems unlikely, since eyes tend to be in roughly the same place on every human body, and usually they’re fairly symmetrical. So are there a lot of “puckered, septic lesions and holes” in the same places on the right and left of Toby’s face above the nose?

If so... well, I do appreciate symmetry.

Moving apparently on instinct, Kristoff Rudenko calls the police.

And then, with the phone in his hand, his eyes fall on the thing in the kitchen. Toby Carlisle’s been doing a craft project!

“There, in the center of the floor, was a pile of discarded meat and bone, stacked almost as high as a person. It seemed less decayed than the rest of it, though that foul yellow fluid oozed from it, and ... when I looked at that heaped pile of meat, it moved. I don’t know how—I don’t know quite how to explain it, other than to tell you that it opened its eyes. It opened all its eyes.”

Now, that’s interesting.

A thing built out of meat and bone from... where? The supermarket, probably, given the location. So—dead things from which the life’s long since departed. But there’s life in it, isn’t there? And what, I wonder, has happened to the life of Toby Carlisle?

Personally, if I were going to give a craft project life, I wouldn’t give it my own.

Do you think Toby Carlisle meant to sacrifice himself to this? Or was it an accident? And where did the other eyes come from? I don’t know how things are in your supermarkets, but where I shop most meat doesn’t come with eyes. Surely the only available eyes would be the ones Toby Carlisle once had? Also, what is it with The Magnus Archives and eyes? I’m certain I’m not imagining it now: there are eyes everywhere in this show.

“The next thing I remember,” our statement-giver says, “is the police’s arrival, and a lot of questions from officers trying to hide the fact that they had just finished vomiting. The pile of meat was gone, though the bits that had been nailed to the walls and floors remained.”

So... Frankenstein’s monster left.

But let’s pause and have a think about this. In late 2002, Toby Carlisle already smelled funny—yet he was quiet and the smell wasn’t overly intrusive: just a few whiffs here and there. In July 2004, he starts banging.

I think we can assume this is when the carnal redecoration began. Walls first, then floors, yes? Kristoff Rudenko never mentions the ceiling of Toby’s apartment aside from a note regarding a light fixture. Is rotting flesh nailed there too? Did our crazed meat-painter smear the ceiling with blood and fat? Or did he leave the ceiling itself untouched? These are the kinds of details I’d like to know, and Kristoff Rudenko is not being particularly helpful!

Six months of an apartment papered and carpeted in beef and chicken and lamb and so on and then, in early 2005, Toby Carlisle receives a package.

...A “thick and soft” envelope.

Now, you can have meat shipped to you through the mail, but that is not the right way to do it. There are regulations for the shipping of meat in, I think, every country on Earth. You can’t simply pack meat into an envelope and send it off, that’s a biological hazard!

And yet it’s only in late 2007, after three years of rotting meat, that Kristoff Rudenko says “the smell had begun to pervade my whole flat.”

I would have expected the odor to become a problem long before that! Perhaps our statement-giver has an unusually poor nose... or maybe Welbeck House was built to a truly enviable standard of insulation.

In any case, a hazmat team has to be called in to clean the place up.

Kristoff Rudenko does not mention how the police responded to the dead body. He says nothing about an investigation into either murder or suicide. Does this mean Carlisle’s monster took his old body with it? Does it mean that the police went with either “suicide” or “natural causes” as an explanation for death? Or does it mean that they simply didn’t do anything with it at all, officially—cleaned everything up and pretended it never happened?

Information! Why are we missing so much information? Ahh, well... I suppose these episodes would never end if everything was gone into in as much detail as I’d like. All things considered, this is fine.

Kristoff Rudenko moves in with some friends in Clapham:

“People who are very clean, and don’t mind the fact that I have recently become a vegetarian.”

As someone who has occasionally felt tempted to partake when passing roadkill, I can’t say I understand this reaction. It’s true that I like my meat closer to living than to decomposing, but that is the natural progression—for all living things, vegetables included. First they live and grow. Then they die. Then they rot. We all know this, yes? So why should seeing things at the end of that process put you off eating them at an earlier point?

Well.

Jonathan Sims says, “Looking into this one has proven a bit tricky, as police, hospital and even fire department records give wildly conflicting reports.”

So! I take this to mean that each department wrote up reports it thought worked as plausible explanations—without consulting with one another. In short: they cleaned everything up and pretended the event itself never happened. It’s the gas leak by the Mion River, handled by a bunch of people who aren’t with a single organization (like the Holy Church).

We’ve got a date for the discovery, though: October 22, 2007.

Ah, and Carlisle’s monster didn’t take the body. “The cause of death was listed as gangrene,” which doesn’t seem terribly believable to me. Who dies of gangrene these days? With antibiotics available everywhere?

But then Toby Carlisle, even aside from rituals involving bringing unnatural life to monsters of flesh and bone, wasn’t exactly usual.

Who knows? Maybe he did cut himself on something, and elected to leave the infection entirely untreated. It isn’t as though he’d have to visit the hospital for a little cut—recluse that I am, I’ve treated enough of my own injuries to know what can and can’t be handled at home. A little soap and water, hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol, a tube of triple antibiotic ointment, a sterile bandage... unless you’ve actually cut your arm open and gotten something unusually nasty in the wound... and even then! gauze and a packet of sutures should take care of the worst you’re likely to get at home.

Was Toby Carlisle the type to simply let his injuries, small or large, fester? I suppose he might have been. He certainly doesn’t seem to have cared about keeping his living space clean and healthful.

Kristoff Rudenko hasn’t died yet.

And Incredibly-Competent-Assistant Sasha has turned up Toby Carlisle’s financial records, which seem to suggest that he was making money somehow, but it was all going to pay for his place—and where was he getting the meat? There are no records of purchases made in person or online.

Assistant Tim, despite asking everywhere, hasn’t been able to figure it out.

Assistant Martin is still having stomach problems, it seems.

[August 16, 2020: concluding]

And Head Archivist Jon, like me, is bothered by not knowing where the meat was coming from. Given that it obviously wasn’t coming from any of the more conventional sources, though... well, maybe some of those cold cuts came with eyeballs after all.

Still, I’d very much like to know whether any of the eyes that thing opened were (or had been) human.

[randomfandomfiction]

An Introduction to Ereri

All your required reading in one place!

king of carrot flowers by unhappy_turtle (23k, Mature)

It's a Sunday. He's washing his favorite mug and trying not to pay too much attention to the funeral that's going on across the street.

---

(Levi lives across the street from a cemetery and Eren's father has recently passed away.)

Corp de Ballet by Dominura (26k, T+)

The Royal Stohess Ballet school is almost as esteemed and as world renowned as the Royal Stohess Ballet Company itself. It brings students in from far and wide with the hope that they too could join the ranks of the most elite dancers in the world.  Mikasa and Eren can hardly believe they’ve made it this far, the chance to be able to dance in the company of their dreams fills them with hope. Along the way they meet new people, make new friends, and enemies. However, they learn that you can never judge a book by its cover.

In my opinion this is one of the more underrated Ereri fics - I think it deserves a lot more love because I really really enjoyed it

Fireside by twisting_vine_x (37k, Explicit)

A/N: Essentially, the one in which Levi ditches his car and ends up half-frozen on Eren’s doorstep, and then falls harder for Eren in four days than he’s ever fallen for anyone in his life.

Basically, this story shall contain roaring fires, hot chocolate, a whole roster of adorable animals (cause Eren’s spending his reading week watching over Hanji’s farm in frozen Alberta, whereas Levi is an author who lives in Vancouver), a bunch of cuteness with Eren and Levi bonding over nerdy shit; and, essentially, Levi and Eren being trapped together for days, with both of them realizing just how compatible they are, and with both of them aware of the fact that they're from different worlds and live entire provinces apart.

- - -

 Levi’s known this kid for maybe four hours. There’s no reason for him to feel this protective.

 The wind’s still howling outside, though, and Levi still can’t feel his toes.

 Eren may well have saved his life, by opening his door.

 Maybe Levi’s allowed to feel a bit protective in return.

Art Of War by catsonfire (52k, Explicit)

Noisy neighbors, nursling dinosaurs, satanic box cutters, shitty convenience store management, the word 'fuck', hereditary (but not really) homosexuality, beer and ramen, pennies, truckstops, strippers, closets, semi-public defacing, rings, house parties, "recreational" drug use, accidental rendezvous, toxic stew (don't eat the stew), nice abs, housewives--batteries not included, over-educational movie sessions, copious domesticity, kittens named after landlords, a shit joke at participating locations, and many, many happy endings. A modern AU in which Eren moves into the apartment directly above Levi's.

Hands Clean by Ashke (55k, Mature)

Eren's your typical high school student, despite his anger management problems. One day, he has to visit the nurse's office to only discover that the usual nurse has been replaced by a man with steel gray eyes and a mouth with no filter. Eren's interest is piqued.

A classic and must-read! Very well-known amongst fanfic readers

The Little Titan Café by pocketsizedtitan (65k, T+)

Just another cliche AU in which Eren works as a barista in his mother’s café, specializing in latte art. And then there’s Levi, who’s not exactly your typical patron, because, well, he’s blunt and rude (which Eren supposes isn’t that much different from regular customers) but mostly he just confuses Eren’s poor little homosexual heart.

I have always loved this fic! It’s one I regularly reread, just because I love the slow burn and development of the relationship between these two. This one is also pretty much a fandom staple and very well-loved

half light by foreverautumn (66k, Not Rated)

He wouldn't say that they're friends, really. They're not quite just acquaintances either; the more he thinks about it, Eren's not sure how to describe their relationship. They sort of... tolerate each other, in different ways.

But yeah, the more he thinks about it (and he does think about it quite often), Eren thinks that he'd like for them to be friends.

(AU where Eren tries to figure out what you do when friendly feelings turn into something more.)

Love.exe by anonymous (69k, Not Rated)

All Levi wants to do is drink tea, run his goddamn convenience store, and not have to deal with this kid who keeps coming in to leech his wifi bringing down high-end corporations.

Please note you need an ao3 account to read this ^

Holding Hands In The Rain by twisting_vine_x (106k, Explicit)

A/N: Basically the one with thousands of words of Eren and Levi crushing like crazy on each other, and being absolutely freaking ridiculous together, and slowly falling in love against the backdrop of modern-day Vancouver.

- - -

Levi only realizes how much he’s not paying attention to anything around him when there are shoes beside the puddle he’s drawing. Looks up to find Eren standing right there in the rain, the hood on his jacket pulled back, and his hair plastered down against his head. He’s just standing there, and – he’s watching Levi with an expression that looks so fond it actually hurts; and Levi’s just managed to get his breath back and open his mouth when Eren moves closer, and Levi loses his air all over again.

Chasing Summer by Dressed_in_Darkness (115k, Explicit)

Two more weeks left before Levi Ackerman graduates from high school and leaves the small town of Shiganshina. He can't wait for the moment that he can finally put that dreadful town behind him. But when a Grisha Jaeger becomes the new family doctor, bringing along his ill son that breathes new life into the town he desperately wants to escape, will Levi find a reason to stay?

I normally reeeeally dislike first-person written fics (I just find them super difficult to get into and generally won’t read them) but this is an exception! Honestly I can’t even explain how big a deal that is for me

An Unlikely Alliance by Monsoon (117k, Explicit)

When Scouting Legions main trading partner, Wall Maria, is experiencing economic strain from constant attacks by the neighboring kingdom Titan, the leaders of the two nations come to an agreement: Scouting Legion will provide military protection in exchange for land and financial aid for the still growing nation.

Their new alliance will be sealed with the union of King Jaegar's son Eren to the Scouting legions strongest soldier, Lance Corporal Levi. But how will the cold, impassive soldier warm to his new husband, who is far from the weak, spoiled princess he was expecting?

1994 by Vee (124k, Explicit)

Before cell phones. Before the Kardashians. Before internet porn. The year is 1994. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, poor kids from the wrong side of the tracks, have been transferred with the rest of their neighborhood to the posh, uptown Trost High (Home of the Titans). Mikasa and Armin seem to fit in well enough, but Eren isn't quite so lucky. Of course, most of this has to do with Eren's personality. When he accepts a bet to lose his virginity (and actually prove that someone likes him) by the end of the semester, it's hard for him to deny the improbability of winning. After all, the only one he seems to be talking to these days is the weirdly pretty (and just plain weird) goth working at the donut shop down the street...

An absolute classic and must-read! Much loved and well-known, this is definitely a fandom staple

The Strange and the Usual by lalazee (126k, Explicit)

When Eren finds himself stuck in what is essentially a halfway house for supernaturally inclined misfits, there's no stopping the veritable shopping list of events that leave him pushed closer and closer to ex-exorcist, Levi. But when is it ever that simple?

I. LOVE. THIS. I have recced ^ before and I will continue to do so for a very long time!! This is my absolute favourite Ereri fic. It has been years since I read this for the first time and I have never forgotten it. Please read and support the author!!

Click on my Heart by CocoaChoux (140k, T+)

Levi is a well-known, full-time let’s player on YouTube who just so happens to take care of his deceased relative’s child. Content with his punk/gamer life, he did not expect to one day click on a video of fellow YouTuber, QueenPastelEren. He especially did not expect to be so smitten within the first few seconds of watching the pastel goddess with green and gold eyes.

This was one of my first Ereri fics and I’ve never forgotten it. Eren is lovely, Levi is adorable, they are so cute together, and the way the author expresses body dysphoria here is really excellent to read and understand.

Haute Couture Love by SailorHeichou (163k, Mature)

Eren Jaeger is sharp, determined and hard working but doesn't consider himself beautiful or good looking in the least. When he lands his dream job, working at Survey Corp Publications as the Executive Assistant to a high-end Fashion magazine's Editor-in-Chief, his life is turned Topsy-Turvy. All he wants to do is work hard to become an Editor, but his boss Levi seems keen on making his life a living hell.

Levi is a notorious playboy who gets what he wants both in and out of the bedroom. As Editer-in-Chief of New York's best selling high-end Fashion Magazine, Levi is forced to work with an overly determined, hot-headed brat with a rat's nest for hair and the most incredible eyes he's ever seen and it's all because of Erwin Smith.

Another fic that makes me put aside my dislike of first-person narration!! I love sassy Levi!!

[shadowofthelamp]

I Think We Might Be Related

Summary: Johnny gets a call from a kid who claims he might be his nephew. He decides to see for himself.

(Rated teen just for a few brief gore mentions and language, pretty in line with the comics)

Based off my theory that Membrane is either Johnny C’s brother or that Johnny’s plasma donation was used to help stabilize and differentiate the Dib clone.

Wordcount: 2600

Read on ao3

Reblogs/replies/tags/likes are all super appreciated, I love hearing what people think!

The phone rang. In most houses, that’s not a very unusual occurrence. Number 777 was not most houses.

The owner of 777, (or rather, the occupant- if there was a landlord, they’d either been dismembered or made otherwise defunct a long time ago) was currently laid out on the couch, watching an old-timey show about cowboys when the loud ring rattled his eardrums. He sat up, long limbs running into each other like spaghetti in a pot before his hand curled around the phone and he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you…” There was a shuffling of papers. “Johnny C?” The voice sounded young.

“Is this the library- did you get my submission? Your voice is high-pitched, are you an intern? Selling your hours and youth for no pay is only killing your soul on the inside, you know. Although the library does provide the public with comic books, so I guess-”

“No, I’m not with the library. I live a little further in the city, and… I think we might be related? You might be my uncle, or something like that.” The kid’s voice quirked up the same way Johnny’s heart started doing a kickline with his lungs.

“You think?” Uncle. Uncle implied a sister or a brother. A family. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of family, other than turning around the soaked marshmellow of his brain that revealed jackshit about who he was.

“Yeah, it’s a… really long story, but the short version is that I was rummaging around with my DNA, and your name was one of the few on file. The others were all dead ends.”

“In your DNA?” Okay, this kid was definitely fucking with him. Served him right for even thinking about hoping for a clue. “Right, and I’m the muffin man, running off and leaving his kids in a place called dreary lane. Seriously, who does that?”

“I promise this isn’t a prank, don’t hang up! Are you still living in 684 South?”

“No.” Was that his old address? It sparked recognition that then died smoking like a match in a tray of water. It was probably a good sign, though, unless this kid was a stalker.  “777 Offmain.”

“Okay. Can I… meet you at some point? I just want to get to know you. As a person. Like me. Okay, wow, this is coming out weird. I promise I’m not an axe-murderer.”

At that, Johnny cracked up. He ruffled a hand through his hair- he liked how the longer spikes flopped over his eyes. Sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to hack it all off, not feel the grease and salt the congealed when he didn’t move long enough that his body made itself disgusting again, but then he just stuck a beanie on it and forgot all about it until the urge passed. He’d cut part of it off once and it had just sat in the kitchen for a… week? Time was funny.

“Well, we can’t both be, can we?”

“I’ll... man, my self-preservation instincts have really started going down the toilet since I started following an alien with an arsenal strapped to his back, but can I stop by tomorrow at around three?”

“Happy Friends is on at three. Make it four.”

“Alright! Sounds good. Gosh, this is exciting, I’ve never met any real family besides Dad- okay, that was oversharing. Oversharing’s bad, especially to strangers.”

“If we’re family, we’re not strangers.” Johnny’s grip on the phone tightened, and he could see the tendons and veins on the back. Hmm. Maybe he could pick up sculpting, see if he was ever any good at that. The human body was properly horrifying in mere existence.

“See you then- should I call you Johnny or what?”

“Johnny is fine for now, but if we really are related, I’ll go with Nny. So, how are we related anyways?”

“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’ll click when we meet.”

“So, what’s your name, anyways?”

“Dib.” And with that, the line went dead and Johnny went to see if he could make anything good enough to hang up on the wall out of fingerpaints.

If his leg bounced and his chest felt vise-like, he blamed the coffee patches and the 30 hours of no sleep.

______________

Dib knocked on the door at 4:10. Johnny pulled it open, staring down at him.

“Geez, you got a water balloon pumped up inside your head or something?” He had really big glasses, the kind that said when he didn’t have them on he probably couldn’t see half a foot in front of his face without tripping over something. His skin was the same shade as Johnny’s, he was pretty sure, but he had some faint freckles. Duh, he was a kid, he probably had to go outside to go to school and stuff.

“Well, that could have been a better start.” The kid had a briefcase- what kind of kid had a briefcase? No kid that should have existed, kids should be dragging around teddy bears like Squee or grimy dolls filled with teething marks. Oh wait, he was holding out his non-briefcase hand. “I’m Dib. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but now I’m not so sure about that.” He craned his head. “Oh, wow. Your house is a mess but I’ve been in our living room when Gaz is on one of her marathons and this is only moderate compared to that. Did you try and paint your own walls?”

“Gaz? That’s a fun name. Who's she?”

“My- you know what? I’m not volunteering any more information until I get a little more on you besides your name and height. Looks like weight changed. Wow, you’re a stick.” Dib rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out a wrapper with a big grinning mascot on it and handing it to Johnny. It was a chocolate protein bar. “You can have that one, I’ve got dozens.”

Johnny tore open the wrapper, stuffing half of it in his mouth. Damn, it was good, actually. Who would want a protein bar that tasted like sawdust when you could make it sweet? “So, is there any magical connection? I like the coat, though.”

Dib beamed. “Really? Everyone says it’s too much, but I say that there’s nothing like twirling around in a good coat and feeling the wind snap on the fabric when you run.”

“Oh, that is a good feeling. One of the best. Shame I can never keep mine, they always end up tossed to the void whenever something happens or I get particularly dramatic. It always feels excellent in the moment, but then you’re left with cold shoulders and regret for the strawberry grandma candy you left behind in the back pocket.”

“You know, I think I see the resemblance.” Dib said. “I’ve got your cheekbones, and nose. Maybe you’re my uncle? Do you know Professor Membrane?”

“That guy on tv? He’s kind of fun.” Johnny watched it when it was on sometimes.

“That’s my dad. I take it he’s not your brother if that was your reaction, though.”

“Dab-”

“Dib.”

“Dib. My head’s been shot to shit, both literally and figuratively. There’s scars on the back I don’t remember getting there. I had some serious garbage claw me up, and I wouldn’t be able to tell a brother from the easter bunny unless it slapped some chocolate eggs up my ass.” He ripped another portion of the bar off with his teeth.

Dib sagged a little. “Oh… Dad’s always been really tight-lipped about any other family. I hoped-”

Johnny swallowed the chunk of chocolate protein bar. “Look, I haven’t got the answers for any existential crisis you may be having. I’ve been through quite a few of my own, if we’re being honest. But I have some chips that are going stale and a TV that has colors that make your eyes bleed that tickles pretty feelings up your skull. I also haven’t left the house in five days. If you have anything interesting to say, we can talk about it over some cartoons.”

Dib perked up again at that. “You… want to listen to me?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’ve got loads! I love the paranormal, and some parts of math but not all of them, and also no one ever listens to me about the alien that goes to my school-”

“Alien? I’m curious, tell me more.”

Dib made a squeaking noise so strange Johnny wasn’t sure he hadn’t just had his organs spontaneously combust.  “Hey? Kid? Kid, I don’t wanna clean up another corpse already, I’m running out of trash bags.”

“You really- wait, another one?”

Johnny grabbed the knife in his belt- he’d nicked himself with it a dozen times but it was nice and convenient and he liked that. “Just a joke. I mean, kids like jokes, right? How old are you, nine?”

“I’m twelve!” Dib tugged at the bottom of his shirt. “Anyways, so there’s this alien named Zim, he is the biggest pain in my butt, and I don’t know if you remember when gravity stopped working for a bit a couple of weeks ago and everything started freaking out and going screwy, but that was him-”

“Oh, huh. I was wondering why I made footprints on the ceiling. I figured the squirrels did it.” Johnny said. “Do I have to worry about him destroying the world? Because I’m pretty sure earth is the only planet with slushie machines and it would be just criminal if the universe lost those. Shame you have to deal with people to use them, but everything has a price.”

“Apparently, aliens have slushie machines too, I’ve asked.” Dib said. “Well, I stole a couple of Zim’s files, and he orders alien versions of them with his shipments of food. But that’s not what matters, he’s trying to take over the- wait, you actually believe me?”

Geez, kid, slushies always mattered. “Sure. I got abducted on a Tuesday once. Stuck a couple of needles in me, but tossed me back down hard enough to fuck up my spine when I managed to eviscerate one. Wish I’d brought a camera, those guts looked delightful- and it was so clean! No blood, they had robot insides!”

Dib took half a step back. “Uh-”

“And it was blue, can you believe that? Like one of those crabs! The horsey ones- hey, maybe those were aliens too.”

Dib blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. A friend of mine has a theory like that anyways. So… what do you do?”

Johnny stared at him. “Whatever I want. I go to the movies, I eat stuff, I kill people.”

Dib’s mouth twitched before he started laughing. “Pffft, you’ve got such a straight face!”

“Just so you know, if you hear any screaming, don’t worry, they’re all restrained.”

“Right, right.” Dib settled down on the couch. “Oh, nice, this is surprisingly comfortable.”

Johnny settled down next to him. He knew how to talk to Squee- poor kid barely said a word most of the time. He really needed to help him be more confident. Maybe he could get him a hampster. Pets made people more responsible, right?

Then again, Nailbunny hanging on the wall said otherwise. Although that could just be him.

But this Dib kid, he didn’t really seem at all phased. Which was weird- weren’t you supposed to be nervous around strangers? Especially ones that had houses like his, with blood splattered on the walls and a noose tucked in the corner. Maybe that big head’s meaty brain was stuffed with stuff from the aliens instead of common sense, or just figured that the new weird skinny guy was just joking. Squee had first seen him with blood splattered all over. He hugged his legs to his chest, watching the kid pull out a laptop that looked real fancy. Maybe he was rich. Oh, right, if his dad was on tv he probably was.

“Anyway this is Zim- and this is a couple sketches I’ve made of him without his disguise. I’ve seen it, but the pictures keep getting destroyed because the universe really hates me.”

“We’re in the same boat, then.” Johnny said. “If there is anything looking over the Earth, it always picks a couple people to just dump dookie on, just for shits and giggles. It’s a pain in the ass, let me tell you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dib mumbled. “This is his little robot in a dog costume.”

“That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, not so much when he’s also got lasers attached to him.” Dib said. “He’s not as bad a Zim, though, mostly he’s just kind of dumb.”

Dib started rambling on about routines and habits and skin texture, and Johnny kind of checked out, preferring to run his eyes over Dib’s face. He was little, for a twelve year old- but then again, it wasn’t like Johnny spent a lot of time around twelve year olds. Or anyone. Dib's glasses slid down and he adjusted them twice in a few minutes without a pause. Listening to him was almost like putting on the radio in the background to distract from the car crashes outside and the nothingless and everythingness of being a human being. His voice was kind of whiny, but the crescendos in it with the tides of how emotional he got were almost like music.

“And then he started raving about how cloning is far superior to filthy human breeding, and that’s when I started getting curious about checking out the rest of my family.” Dib was breathing hard. He had a look on his face like he wasn’t used to being allowed to talk for that long. Frankly, Johnny agreed with the alien kid that the way people reproduced was utterly repulsive, but they’d come back around to why he’d let Dib in in the first place.

“Well, verdict?”

“Huh?”

Johnny held out his arms, one leg slipping off the couch while the other loosened so his heel rested on the edge of the couch cushion and his toe pointed up at the ceiling. “On me.”

“Well. You’re kind of weird, but I guess my whole family is like that.” Dib said. “And you actually do listen to me, which is a really nice change of pace.”

“It can get boring around here, and you’re not nearly as irritating as some other people can be. At least you ramble on about fun stuff.” Johnny shrugged just as there was a shriek from the stairs. Dib’s head whipped around.

“What was that?”

“A ghost, probably. Or I need to add more electricity to the guy from the church picnic...”

Dib set a hand on his forehead. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” He patted at his pocket, then seemed satisfied by whatever was inside. “Want me to exorcise it for you?”

“Nah, I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Alright, suit yourself but the offer is open.” Dib said. “You said you had TV?”

Johnny grabbed the remote. “What kind of idiot wouldn’t?”

Dib left about an hour later after laughing at the hokey acting on some soap opera, and Johnny realized he was in good enough of a mood that he whistled over the begging when he he slid his favorite knife through a man’s chest cavity and carved him open, collecting the viscera in a bucket.

He’d give the wall monster some organ meat to go with the coating, he decided. Give it a treat. And maybe he’d invite Dib over again sometime.

[rmg91]

The Woes and Antics of Living Together-Chapter 1

Well...Here it is! My big project I've been working on after getting latched onto by what I thought would be just a random short Trolls kick! But nope! It stuck and I'm here now. Anyway, after staying up all night reading 'A Little Change' by tisbubb/lolitea (GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T!) I was inspired to do my own Broppy Roommate AU because we need more of them out there and the bug to write this wouldn't leave me alone.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and hopefully I've captured the characters well enough XD Admittingly, I'm still getting the hang of writing some of them.

I own nothing canon.

Also found on: AO3/FF.net

                                                            ~*~*~*~*~*~

It was dark, it was late and it was storming, a perfect representation of the mood Branch Hawthorn found himself in as he trudged his way up the flight of steps to his apartment. Spending a good six hours at college wasn't a walk in the park, especially when his professors decided to pop-quiz everyone or add extra homework to the already overflowing piles they had. His lousy waiter job burned another seven hours as he dealt with difficult customers and a prick of a boss and then he spent at least a good three and half hours at the school's library studying and working on homework, only to have to walk back to his crappy apartment building, four blocks away, in the pouring rain. He was marginally grateful that his backpack was waterproof as he was soaked though and his beat-up sneakers squished with water as he shuffled down the hallway.

Said hallway might have seen better days but was now just dirty and falling apart with peeling paint and creaking floorboards, something that always made Branch worry he would fall though the floor one day. Finally reaching his apartment, in-between the only two flickering light bulbs, he fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the faded door, only to find it wouldn't open.

Of course it would stick tonight.

Sighing, Branch hit his forehead against the wooden barrier before trying to open it again by shaking and jerking the handle. Crying out in frustration when the door wouldn't budge, the dark-haired young man gave it a kick before slumping down against the wall. The universe just loved to torture him it would seem with everything that always seemed to go wrong around him. Horrible, almost full-time job? Check. People avoiding him because of his personality? Check. Crappy apartment with a door that got stuck in rainy weather? Double check! You name it and it has probably happened to Branch.

Groaning, he buried his face in his knees and tried not to entertain the dark thoughts swilling in his head. He really didn't want to spend the night in the hallway, he'd wake up with a cold for sure and he couldn't be certain that his oh-so-lovely neighbors wouldn't rob him in the night. Branch was fairly certain they were all either drug dealers or thugs for hire, with that not-as-innocent-as-she-thought-she-was little old lady, Mrs. Wallflower, being the boss of them all with her mob connections. He had overhead voices one day about 'taking someone out' coming from her apartment and he'd been avoiding her ever since.

Branch was also very unwilling to call his landlord for any sort of help, knowing one: the bastard that he was wouldn't even come until it was convenient for him and two: Branch was avoiding him as he was a little behind on rent and didn't have the energy to deal with him. Not to mention his phone was dead, if it wasn't he might have thought about calling Gristle for a favor but that would mean dealing with both Gristle and his well-meaning girlfriend, Bridget, and Branch just couldn't tonight.

Sighing again, Branch moped for a few more moment before getting up to try opening his door again. Taking hold of the doorknob, he turned it fully before ramming his shoulder against the dense material. He continued, progressively putting more power behind the hits before suddenly tripping into his dingy abode. Straightening up, Branch glanced back at the door and noticed that now the upper hinge was broken and his door hung awkwardly. Cursing under his breath because now he would have to call his landlord, Branch pushed the door closed and flipped all his extra locks, they would be able to hold it closed for the night...he hoped.

Dropping his backpack, Branch dragged himself to his tiny bathroom to change out of his wet clothes and to dry his hair. Once in his threadbare pajamas, he dug around in his ration box for anything he could eat without heating up, he didn't feel like fighting the stove tonight, and found a can of peaches. Popping it open, he ate them while leaning against the counter and listening to the rain hit the only small window. Placing what was left in his empty fridge, Branch went to plug his phone in next to his bed, which was really just a mattress on the floor. Making sure his alarm was set, the young man turned the small radio beside him on, tuning it to play the soft melodies of some classical music as he wrapped himself in the few blankets he had. Branch let himself fall onto his flat pillow and hoped sleep would claim him soon and end this sucky day...even if he would probably repeat it tomorrow.

                                                    ~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning was just as dreary as the day before but at least it hadn't started raining yet and for that Branch was thankful as he made his way across Bergenville University's campus to his first class. He had left a note on his door before leaving, and made sure what few valuables he had were either with him or locked under the bathroom sink, detailing that his door needed to be fixed. Then he had, begrudgingly, left a voicemail to the landlord saying he needed some maintenance and Branch hoped he wouldn't have to deal with the bastard at all until he had the rest of his rent ready. Had the damn hinge simply loosened Branch probably could've fixed it himself but no, it had to break and he didn't have the means to get a new one. Sighing, Branch prayed to whatever being was out there to give him just one tiny little shred of mercy this time and to let this be handled swiftly.

"Branch! Hey, Branch, wait up!" A voice suddenly called out.

Groaning quietly to himself, Branch stopped and waited for the other student to catch up. Sky blues watched the portly young man stop a few feet away and rest his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Gristle King Jr. wasn't exactly what you'd call attractive with his green tipped hair and crooked teeth but he was well known and liked among the student body for his lively personality and odd sense of humor. It also helped that his family had owned the land Bergenville sat on for centuries and owned most of everything in the city. He also considered himself one of Branch's best (and only) friends, all due to Branch helping with him and Bridget getting together. Of course all Branch did was give the girl some advice.

Heaving one last gulp of air, Gristle stood up and grinned at Branch, "Morning, Branch!"

"Morning, Gristle." Branch answered dully, beginning to walk again.

"Whoa, hey! You okay, dude?" Gristle asked, as he fell into step with Branch, "Did you stay up late studying at the library again? Cause..uh...You kind of look like crap."

Branch rolled his eyes, "Gee, thanks. And I got plenty of sleep just..." Deep down he knew Gristle cared about him but Branch just didn't feel like sharing his problems today, "Long morning already."

"Ah, well...It happens I guess." Silence fell between the two as they weaved by other students, something Branch relished in, before Gristle spoke up again, "Oh yeah! Hey! When was the last you ate? Like real food?"

Branch glared at his acquaintance, he hated when Gristle and Bridget tried to take care of him, "I eat real food."

Gristle rolled his eyes at the typical Branch reply, "Yeah, yeah but I meant like a real, hot meal? Cause Bridgey and I are having a little party toni-"

"No." If there was one thing Branch hated even more than his existence some days it was parties.

"What?! No! Not a party!" Gristle suddenly backtracked, "I meant a uh....intimate get together! Yeah!"

"Still no."

Gristle groaned, "Come on, man! It's not a party, I swear! It's just some of my classmates wanted to meet Bridget and to help her feel a little more comfortable, she's invited a few of her friend's over as well. It'll be six people tops! Seven including you!"

"Gee, thanks for making me feel like the extra wheel there. Still no."

"It's just dinner! I mean it!" The other man begged, "A nice hot meal and some company. And I know you get off early tonight, so don't go saying you have to work. Please, Branch? Come on, it won't hurt."

Branch doubted that, he wasn't really a people person after all. Then again, Gristle wouldn't quit bugging him if he didn't say something. "I'll think about, ok?! Just stop begging, people are starting to stare."

"Yes! Bridget will be so happy to hear you're coming!" Gristle fist-pumped the air, "You won't regret this! Gotta run to class now, see ya tonight!"

And then Branch was left standing a few feet from his classroom, already regretting saying anything at all. Sighing, and hoping for a quick death so he wouldn't have to feel guilty when he texted and said he wasn't going to make it, Branch entered the classroom.

Making his way up to his seat, he noticed the distinct lack of students and wondered briefly if maybe they had all drunk themselves into oblivion or finally had enough of their professor. Sitting down and digging out his materials, Branch hoped that his usual desk mate didn't show up today, already having had enough of extroverts for the day. Once settled, he buried his head in his arms and waited for class to begin, lecture days were at least easy enough to get though when he had already read though the text book.

Just when he thought, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to deal with the worlds biggest distraction, well...his biggest distraction anyway, the telltale jingle of multiple rainbow bangles made their way to his ears as the one wearing them skipped up to the seat beside him. Branch kept his head down and hoped she wouldn't talk to him.

"Branch! My man! Goooood morning~!"

Then again this was Poppy Meadows, the young woman who always talked to him even when other people told her not to. She was also the one that believed everyone was her friend and still believed in unicorns and magic and that singing could fix any problem. She was always positive and talking about the 'bright side' of things, partying all weekend long with her annoying crew and insisted, insisted on inviting him along every single time even when he said no! Not mention she dyed her hair a bright, almost highlighter shade of pink, wore too many bracelets and other jewelry that were just screaming to get caught on something, dressed in bright, colorful clothing and had the most beautiful amber eyes that Branch had written, and still could write, many a poetic prose about. He had hoped his childhood crush on her would go away after he had pulled away from everyone but no, it had only gotten worse.

He groaned silently to himself before glancing up at her, "Hi, Poppy."

Poppy dropped noisily into her seat with a grin, "Aww, what's got you so grumpy this morning? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

A grunt was her only answer as Branch stared resolutely at the board as he waited for their professor to begin. The pinkette wasn't deterred though and poked his check, "Come on, you grumpy troll, smile. It's a beautiful day~"

Branch looked at her like she was crazy, "Beautiful? Last I checked it was cloudy and going to rain again."

"And?" Poppy grinned brightly, "Rainy days are the best! You can cuddle up in your favorite blanket with some hot chocolate and watch your favorite movie! Or read! Maybe even scrapbook if the right inspiration comes along."

"Yeah...sure. Unless you're out in it, then you're cold, wet and bound to get sick. Not to mention the safety hazards with the wet roads and lack of visibility. Hell! A flood could happen at any given time! Disaster is just waiting to happen. Therefore rainy days suck."

Poppy rolled her eyes as Branch ranted about another way things could go wrong, "Oh stop, it's not gonna rain that hard. You need to stop worrying so much."

"And you need to worry more. Not everything is all cupcakes and rainbows. Now shhh! Class is starting!" Branch said as he pointed toward their professor.

Rolling her eyes fondly -Branch would one day see that looking on the bright side and worrying less would be good for him- Poppy opened her notebook and tried to pay attention as her teacher started to drone on about history. Branch glanced over at her, wondering if she was actually going to focus on class this time before tuning into the lesson himself.

It was halfway though class, thirty glorious quiet minutes that had passed, before Branch was reminded of Poppy's presence. Well...not true, he was always, inexplicably aware of her presence, he just did all he could to ignore the urge to just look at her and take in her every move. Like he was now as she started to continually poke his arm with more and more vigor.

"Branch. Branch. Branch. Branch. Branch."

"What?!" He hissed, flicking his eyes over to her before watching the professor in case he turned around.

"Could I borrow a pen? Mine just ran out. Please?"

He turned his head at that to glare at her, "Really?"

"Uh-huh~" She grinned at him.

Rolling his eyes, Branch quickly dug in his bag and pulled out an extra pencil, handing it off to her. "You really should be more prepared," He scolded quietly as he glanced at her notes, "And stop drawing kittens on your notes!"

"But they're so cute," Poppy whined before giggling, "And thanks, you're a life saver~"

Branch quickly turned back to the lesson, hoping to hide the blush he felt heating up his cheeks.

                                                     ~*~*~*~*~*~

The bell rang and as their professor called out what chapters they needed to read next, Branch quickly shoved his things back into his bag, hoping to leave before Poppy could start talking to him again. Unfortunately, she was already grinning at him and bouncing in her seat.

"Oh! Hey! Before you leave! There's a party this weekend and-"

"No." When would she learn he didn't want to go any crazy, out of control college parties.

Poppy pouted and Branch tried very hard not to think just how adorable it was, "Come on! It'll be fun! And good for you! All work and no play makes Branch a grumpy boy~ Plus-" She dug around in her bag before pulling out a bright blue rectangle, "I made you an invite!"

Branch groaned and made no move to accept the expertly put together pieces of paper, "No, Poppy. I don't like parties, get it though your head and I don't want your invites. Ever. Give it to someone else, I'll just throw it out."

"Aww but I made it special just for you!" She slid the small packet over to him as she got up, "Just think about it, okay? It'll be super fun and everyone will be there! It's gonna be our biggest party yet!" Poppy gave him one her mega-watt grins before flouncing off down the stairs, "Bye, Branch~! Please come!"

And just like that, she was gone and off to her next class. Branch glanced down at the invite before rolling his eyes and scowling, he really should just throw it away. Instead he left it sitting there for someone else as he slouched off...before turning around and grabbing it. He'd curse himself later for adding another to his collection after the rest of his classes.

                                                 ~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late again by the time he returned home, having almost missed the rain this time so he wasn't as soaked as last night. Trudging tiredly up the stairs for the millionth time, Branch was grateful for the extra shift at work tonight so his excuse for missing Gristle and Bridget's little dinner party wasn't a lie. Yawning, he approached his door and saw a piece of paper hanging on it and wondered if it was the same one he left that morning. Looking blearily at it, he realized it wasn't and took a closer look at it.

#13,

Ya been late on yer rent too many times, ya got 10 days to get out or all yer stuff's gonna be thrown out.

-Griff, the landlord.

PS: The new hinge is coming out of yer deposit.

Branch read and then re-read the note before groaning and banging his head against the door. The universe officially hated him.

                                                       ~*~*~*~*~*~

Poor Branch :c I feel bad for all the crap I've put him through already but it's all necessary for things in the future to happen. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to the next chapter!

[kalebuchanan]

Studio V: Koha - Reflection on Action

I realise the importance this semester of showing the documentation of my project, Koha and the de-emphasis of the open studio artifact. For ease of access for the tutors as well myself and others interested in re visiting Koha in the future I thought it was best to re structure my individual documentation and my individual reflection into a blog post. What I have written below is mainly a reflection on my blog posts which I wrote throughout the semester, and I encourage you to read all of the linked post as well as this reflection to gain a full picture of my journey throughout Studio V.

Week 1:

Week 1 Blog Post: Studio V - Initial Ideas

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/183201418611/studio-v-initial-ideas

In the first week of studio I didn’t begin working on Koha. I had thought of the idea in 2018 and originally planned on working on it for Studio IV. However, I went overseas on an exchange and never completed Studio IV so the idea was shelved. 

I knew that if I worked on Koha it would have to be by myself and after not having been in BCT since mid 2018 I thought it was safest to work with a group. After some talking to different people around studio I found I was interested in the studio idea that Sam Vea had. The first iteration of his idea was to create an app where potential tenants can rate landlords to help others find a house to rent which will be warm, safe and well maintained. At the time I said - 

“I’m interested in developing this idea further as such a service does not currently exist in New Zealand and I would want to use something like this myself.

This is mainly because in the first half of last year before I disappeared to Europe I was living in a flat which was not kept in good condition and hadn’t been inspected by the landlord for years, or even the property manager who was meant to oversee it. As a result there were vines growing through the windows, it was moldy damp and my bedroom had water come in every time it rained. Rats lived in the cupboards and I was constantly sick whilst I lived there. The house was bad, but with care from the landlord it could have and would have been a nice place to live”.

I connected to the idea personally and I thought that I could both have a good contribution to the idea and push myself to become closer to employment at the end of BCT. 

Week 2:

Week 2 Blog Post: Team Dynamics

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/183254798456/team-dynamics

In the second week of studio I had formed a team with Hiren Patel, Sam Vea, Stephen Solis and Osamu Tajima. We’d created a base concept for the idea that Sam had thought of and it was named Slum Lords (now Renters). 

The service was for prospective tenants to use to see if the landlord or property manager in charge of their prospective house creates a positive environment and does a good service for them in their time there. 

At the time I said - 

“Our idea is promising and I hope we can expand on it further throughout the semester. I believe the group dynamic will work quite well as this semester I’ve expanded outside of my core group of friends to work with people based on their skill set. I hope that throughout the year I can think on a more professional level to ready myself for the workplace at the end of the year”.

I knew it was important to expand from the same group of people I had always worked with in BCT, despite these people having great skill sets. I knew there was many different skills throughout BCT and choosing a group outside of my friend group was a great decision professionally to improve my skills of working within a group. I explained this as well as how we would all contribute to the project throughout the semester in this blog post and at the time I thought it would be a great project to work on.

Whilst I was dedicating my time to helping with this project, I knew Koha was still in the back of my mind. While I could contribute to the group, all of the necessary skills within the group to complete this project were already there and I knew there was a potential of me riding in the project. I had set plans in place to ensure I would add my share of value to Slum Lords, but at the same time I was re gaining my confidence to perform in BCT as well as I had done in the past and realized my semester away had not set me back as much as I had thought.

Week 3:

Week 3 Blog Post: Team Dynamics

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/183553882556/the-new-project

After heavy consideration in the first two weeks of Studio I knew that I needed to either commit to Slum Lords, or I needed to commit to building off my 2018 which I would soon re name from ‘Supply’ to Koha. In the end of this week was the week three pitch to Laurent and Donna and I knew to prove that I would be able to complete the project and to show it to them and my peers it was important to have decided by that day. I quickly created this logo and announced to my group that I would leaving to pursue my own project.

In hindsight, now that I have seen how successfully Renters was implemented without me, and how successful my exploration of developing Koha has gone this semester I am very glad that I chose to work on this project. 

In semester 1 of 2018 in the BCT Entrepreneurship & Innovation class I came up with a concept of an idea I called ‘Supply’. Supply was a “platform connecting, travelers, adventurers and their gear.” From the people I pitched this to in 2018 it was generally well received. As this idea began to further shape and iterate it became Koha. 

Week 4:

Week 4 Blog Post: What is Koha?

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/183554263261/what-is-koha

After the week four pitch I listed what I wanted to achieve with Koha, and explained a basic concept of the app. In this post I listed what I wanted to achieve for the semester - 

“Right now I sit in the Initial Concept stage but I’m quickly moving into the Research stage which I then need to be into the Refined Concept and Market Research which then needs to evolve into the Design Prototyping phase.

My goal for the end of the semester is to have the UI/UX design completed, have the final concept completed and have the platform in suitable condition to be developed and launched. Ultimately, I want to do this with the goal of launching the platform creating an active user base. If I can do this, I can make life for backpackers easier in New Zealand, and keep the Earth somewhat less polluted”.

Looking back over the semester I did refine the concept through research, after which I conducted market research. I did this through looking for graphic design inspiration, conducting a comparative analysis to similar apps in the existing market as well as drawing data from my past market research done in 2018.

As shown in my open studio display I also had a completed UI and showed that to the public to receive further feedback on the idea.

Week 5:

Week 5 Blog Post: An in depth look into Koha’s original concept

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/183576073946/an-in-depth-look-into-kohas-original-concept

To refine Koha’s concept it was important for me to document and properly reflect on Koha original concept from 2018. In this time it started out as Re-Supply, then evolved to Supply, then evolved to Koha. I wanted to give the service a name which reflected it’s New Zealand roots, and also showed its social side of having the foundation of encouraging people to donate for the good of the environment and not only purely for making money. 

That is how I came to the name ‘Koha’ meaning to gift or donate in Te Reo.

To see Koha explained in the form of a business plan, please see the link above for the concept blog post. 

Week 6:

Week 6 Blog Post: Decent: X Challenge Results

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/184546972891/decent-x-challenge-results

I spent much of the time between the fifth week, and the days leading up the mid semester break finalizing the entry for Koha into the first stage of the X Challenge - the idea. 

The X Challenge team said -

Your idea ‘Koha’ has been chosen as one of the top 40 ideas and won $250!

We were blown away by the number and quality of entries and had a really hard time picking our winners so a big congratulations for making the cut.

Now that I have spent the semester exploring Koha, I’ve decided that I don’t want to continue working on it (explained later) but back in week six I said - 

“If I was to take Koha forward it would be essential to spend Studio VI building it as well as taking it through the next stage of the X Challenge. To bulid it I would make a studio team, but I have not decided on this yet.”

I knew from earlier I would have to dedicate the rest of BCT studio to Koha if I wanted it to materialize, but now I have decided it is best to focus on a new idea for Studio VI.   

Week 7:

Week 7 Blog Post: Koha - Market Research

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/184677972381/koha-market-research

After the formative assessment where I was asked what research i’d done I realized there was room for a lot more. After receiving that feedback I did further research and explored effective ways to do so.

After my research I’ve come to realise that market research is crucial for the success of Koha and apps and websites in general. I took some advice from an article by (de Vries, 2017) which I have expanded on further in my original post.

One of the recommendations I gained from my research was to look into existing data on the internet rather than trying to make my own. To gain credible data I would have to have much more than the simple be convenience sampling available to me. I would have to use a reasonable statistical method, which would have taken either a lot of time, or a lot of money both of which I didn’t have and wouldn’t have been the best to develop Koha.

Week 8:

Week 8 Blog Post: Koha - Comparative Analysis

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185560708321/koha-comparative-analysis

After initial market research I began to look into how I wanted to prototype Koha. After considering multiple directions I could take I decided that using Adobe XD would be the simplest way to achieve my goals of showing a working prototype in Open Studio. 

Once I began to prototype, my research stage and my prototyping stage began to merge as I changed between the two, with my research building my prototype and concreting the idea that Koha could make a difference, and succeed as a service.

Comparative Analysis:

For an explanation of the analysis, please see the link above.

Weeks 9 - 11:

Week 9 - 11 Blog Posts - Post 1: Creating Koha for Open Studio

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185561129031/creating-koha-for-open-studio

Post 2:  Koha UI Inspiration

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185561303916/koha-ui-inspiration

Post 3:  Koha Inspiration from existing apps

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185561584396/koha-inspiration-from-existing-apps

Between the weeks 9 - 12 I didn’t have a lack of documentation, however it was easiest to combine all of these weeks into one summary as I spent the entire time prototyping, and researching to prototype. Koha was my first time creating the User Interface of an app and crafting the User Experience. I began to create Koha in Adobe XD so I could focus my learning on crafting the design rather than running into coding issues.

Once it was completed in XD it was fully intractable in XD, but the button mechanics were not reliable enough to showcase it through mobile in Open Studio. I’m glad I chose to show it in video format as this created a professional display, whilst also showing that my project was still in progress. At the time I said -

“Because of this my current plan is display the app in the form of a screen recording, on a large screen with a simple display which reflects the simplicity of the Apple interface”.

I created Koha to fit with iOS so I tried to make it fit the Apple aesthetic as much as possible. Even though I’ve decided to put Koha to rest for now, I would also design an Android port and a desktop and mobile website if I was going to launch it. 

As well as taking inspiration from iOS and trying to use its common design features I also built from apps which are similar to Koha. I built its marketplace from my favorite features of Trademe and Facebook Marketplace and built the rental marketplace with a similar feel whilst integrating the best features of AirBnB and Hostelworld. 

I found that whilst it is incredibly important in design to stay original and not copy others ideas, it is often hard to keep that balance with staying within trends and guidelines to give users a familiar experience. I wanted to make Koha as user friendly as possible. This way users wouldn’t have to learn the way I’d re-invented the wheel as a designer and instead get a smooth experience with Koha.

Week 12:

Week 12 Blog Post: Koha - What not to do

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185561790691/koha-what-not-to-do

As open studio grew closer and the XD prototype was completed, I needed to create my display for open studio and decide the best way to show Koha. I found the best way was going to be to show a video as I had considered earlier.

The video is purposely made silent, as it is made to succeed in a loud studio environment where the sounds of many other projects and stacks of people talking will be using the audio space.

Laurent showed me an example of a bad video, and I knew what to shy away from and felt I knew a good design to follow, by trying to keep the same aesthetic I had used throughout Koha. My studio outcome video is linked below and to see the bad example please see the linked blog post above.

Week 13:

Week 13 Blog Post: Koha - Open Studio & Feedback

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185562539076/koha-open-studio-feedback

In Open Studio I kept the display as simple as possible and created a space where it was easy to hold conversation with people interested in Koha. I did this by creating the display shown above, and looking back I see it as successful.

At the time I said - 

“The video I showed totaled to about 4 and a half minutes, and I had it playing on a loop. What I had not thought about at the time and wish I had implemented was actually a way to set the video back to the start! All throughout the night I had interested people approaching the installation and I had no way to go to the start of the app to show it to them”.

This meant I either had to explain to them the video was going to end soon and wait, or simply start explaining what was happening part way through which often left people confused. This took some level of professionalism away from my display but I was still able to share the idea of Koha with people and gain constructive feedback.

My summarized opinion of Open Studio and with Koha is that Koha is a good idea. Koha is grounded, innovative, unique and has potential to grow into an application which can prevent tonnes of rubbish from going into the landfill. 

If I continue Koha, I know that I will spend hundreds, probably thousands of hours working on an app that may only get 10 downloads in the app store. If it does succeed, I know my hours will be fruitful to well below minimum wage. 

Finally I will say, it has been great to explore Koha as an idea throughout the idea and bring it where it is today, it has taught me a lot and the skills I have applied this semester will help me throughout time. However, for now it’s time to lay Koha to rest and change direction in studio.

Week 14:

Week 14 Blog Post: AUT X Challenge - Stage 2 The Accelerator

https://kalebuchanan.tumblr.com/post/185562781566/aut-x-challenge-stage-2-the-accelerator

After Open Studio I began to reflect on my journey for the semester and made the decision to not continue developing Koha. I have a passion for making physical things in BCT and since I don’t have a particular direction of where I want to be after graduating I feel the most intelligent thing to do is do what I’m passionate about and enjoy as that often leads to positive things.

Last week I said -  “I have had high encouragement from the X challenge staff to continue Koha to the second stage of the X-Challenge. I know that this potentially reaps the great reward of $20,000 to put toward the service, as well as learning opportunities unparalleled to those in a classroom. However, if I was to continue Koha I would have to put in many, many unpaid hours for the chance at $20,000. I know that being an entrepreneur is a hard road, but I don’t see profitability out of Koha in the long run which is why I am leaving the idea behind”.

I’m very happy to have chosen Koha as a project this semester and bring it where it is now. However, I’m also glad that I know it is time to move on and know that I’m closer to the idea that will bring me success.

[cluelessnamelessao3]

It’s Raining Somewhere Else

The One with All the Warnings

They’d been on the surface for a year, and they’d been among the cities and towns for approximately a week. Although tensions were high, and there was an increase of anti-monster gang activity, there had been no real incidents of concern. Words, though only a step from actions, did not cause anyone physical harm at least.

The third day after the monsters were finally released in full was the day you found yourself wandering downtown, small backpack in tow, holding several copies of a half-baked resume you’d made with the help of your old university advisor and your papa.

You’d gotten a small, somewhat dingy apartment in a part of town that your father had proclaimed as “not right”. However, regardless of the quality of the apartment, or the environment of the surrounding buildings, you were just glad to be out of your cramped dorm, and even more glad to no longer have to live at home. Besides, it was what you could afford on your own, with your minimal savings.

Which, as it were, was dwindling rapidly. Who knew that furniture, appliances, and moving cost so much? You certainly hadn’t expected it.

Hence why you were prowling the local shops and stores in the hopes of finding some “help wanted” sign to remove you from your plight. You really didn’t want to go asking your papa for more money—especially after having just moved out. How would that look as a statement to your new-found independence?

You stopped in front of a wooden building, the sign at the top reading in big red letters Grillby’s Pub. From the outside it looked barely lived in, but still worn down. The wood panelling was dirty, and in desperate need of a pressure wash. The windows, though new, were painted over with slurs against the monsters. You could only sigh at the crude words and drawings. The state of the outside of this little monster-run bar was similar to some of the other shops you’d seen today.

They’d only been living amongst people for a short while, yet already complaints were being raised, and monsters were being harassed.

Gingerly, you opened a big wooden door, peering through the entrance to see a well-lit pub of sorts. You let the aroma of greasy food wash over you for a moment, your stomach singing its praise. The door fell shut with a dull click, and you wandered toward the bar. The room was mostly empty, aside from one suited dog with a lit treat hanging from his lip, and a rather ill-sick looking rabbit, whose head was currently facedown on the bar’s counter, her feet swinging idly from her perch on the stool.

There was no one at the register, but you could hear the grill in the backroom, and just barely you saw the flickering of a large flame. Behind the register were shelves, filled to the brim with many coloured liquids in an assortment of glasses and bottlesand glasses. On a regular piece of paper, written with nearly perfect calligraphic handwriting was “Help Wanted”.

You couldn’t stop the slight hop in your step at the site of that sign, as you moved closer to the register. The rabbit looked at you wordlessly for a moment, before laying her head back on the counter. The dog yipped once, and you smiled, giving a wave. TheyIt seemed polite.

The crackling from the backroom became louder, and suddenly a man of fire was standing behind the bar, washcloth in one hand, and shot glass in the other. He wiped it down, placed it on the shelf behind him, and fiddled with the other various bottles and tinctures on the shelves.

You felt awkward, standing in silence, watching this fire elemental do busy work. You couldn’t miss the tension in his shoulders, and if you weren’t so nervous, perhaps you’d have been more curious as to how a flame could hold a shape—let alone how a body part made of fire could show tension. How were his clothes not on fire?

“Uhm, I’m sorry, I just saw your ‘help wanted’ sign,” he stills slightly at the tone of your voice, “and I was hoping I could drop off a resume or pick up an application or something, I mean, I know you just opened up and all, and I just moved into the neighbourhood, and uhm, well I mean, sorry, I just would really like to work here—”

You coughed, cutting yourself off.

“Okay, let me restart,” you began again, introducing yourself. Your voice was losing some of its nervous shake, “I’m new in town, and looking for work. I was hoping I could grab an application or drop off my resume.”

At this, the bartender turned toward you, “I can’t pay you in human currency yet,” his voice crackled and popped, like the fire in a campsite. It was comforting, warm, and pleasant.

“That’s okay, there’s an exchange place nearby, and I believe my landlord even accepts Ebott’s coin.”

He nodded, and you swore you could see the hint of a smile on his face—or, whatever the fiery equivalent of one would be. “Well, let me see what I can do for you then, okay?”

“Jennifer,” he rasps, and suddenly that sorry-looking rabbit from earlier springs to life once more. Her ears fly up, twitching, and her nose wriggles as she stretches.

“Yes Cap’n, I’m up. Just needed a break from all the moving, you know?”

“Show Miss, er,” he paused, glancing toward you questioningly.

“I, uh, Kit-Kat is my, kind of, name, but Kit works” you mumbled, face beginning to heat up with embarrassment.

Kit-Kat was a name you received after your eight year old, sugar-crazed self had, on Halloween, broken into the bags of kit-kats for all the trick-or-treaters and eaten much more than your share. Your mistake was your indulgence of the sweet but crunchy chocolate bars, because, after all, children were not meant to eat so much candy at once.

In the end, you got sick. Amazingly sick. Spectacularly. You missed Halloween. You still liked Kit-Kats.

“Show Miss Kit around, Jen, while I grab some paperwork.”

The rabbit nodded, ears flopping, “Alright sweet pea, let’s chat.”

The bartender retreated to the back, and you turned your attention to the spunky looking rabbit, Jennifer.

“If you’re going to work here, you have to understand, you are welcome to be here, appreciated even, but,” she trailed off for a moment and you felt a pit growing in your stomach at her tone.

“You are not and never will be one of us.”

 The first week of working there wasn’t so bad.

The work was pretty fun, if you were honest. You, who had so much trouble talking to people, had found a suitable compromise. It was easy to serve people drinks or food, share a smile and a laugh, and partake in easy small talk. There was no pressure to be interested in their lives, nor they in yours. You didn’t have to worry about making a good impression because… well… delivering food to hungry patrons was the best impression to make.

Jen’s warning still rung in your mind, though. It tainted each interaction with a seed of doubt. Did they like you? Were you out of place here? Would you be forced to leave? At least she was nice to you, despite her cold words.

All in all, you quite liked your job. The atmosphere of the place was warm and easy, regulars and newcomers alike coming together to share a few drinks and a few stories.

Even Jen had warmed up to your after that initial warning.

She was funny, cracking jokes with you, and the skeleton that regularly showed up on late nights. She was also a flirt with the other customers—and with Grillby himself. It made you laugh to see her throw corny pick-ups at the flaming bar owner. His flame would flicker and sputter, displaying his embarrassment at her silly advances.

 Jen was off in her own world today, counting coins in the register while you wiped down counters for closing.

It was days like these that you felt most at peace.

There you were, dressed in a uniform similar to Grillby’s own, hair pulled back for the convenience. You liked the way the vest fit, hugging to your waist but not making you uncomfortable. Some days you wore black dress pants, other days you work a skirt to go with the uniform. It was whatever the moment called for, whatever struck you as the most comfortable. Jen liked to stick with the skirt, claiming it gave her better tips. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth. (You couldn’t deny she had great curves and was obviously cute).

You swiped up the rag you’d been using to clean the bar top off and meandered over to where a rowdy guest had spilled his drink. There were only a few patrons still inside, the chatter had dulled significantly as the hours stretched on, and the only sound, aside from the counting of coins and you cleaning, came from a grainy jukebox playing slow jazz.

“Hey Kit, you mind closing today?”

You looked over to Jen, who had finished counting the till’s money, “Sure thing, Jen.” You wanted to ask why, but hesitated. You were only just getting Jen to talk to you, did you really want to pry into her life? Would she want you to? You fumbled with the string on your apron for a moment, before speaking up once more, “So, uhm, got plans or something?”

You cringed, unsure if you came across as friendly or nosy, but it seemed Jen didn’t mind either way. In fact, she perked up the moment you asked.

“Oh, honey bun, I’ve got great plans tonight!” She grinned conspiratorially, “I’ve got a date…”

“A date?” You smiled, reaching one hand to push the loose strands of hair from your face, as you ambled closer.

“Yes, dearie, a date!” She shook her shoulders, shimmying with a dopey grin on her face, “and I’ll have you know, he’s a hot catch.”

“literally,” a new voice cut in, belonging to a certain large and rather large-boned skeleton you’d seen frequent the bar on many occasions. He never ordered from you, in the same way some of the monsters purposefully avoided your tables, and you were shocked he was even interacting with you.

Though, from the tension you could see from the way he gripped his bottle of ketchup (something you didn’t even bother to question), he seemed to be shocked too.

His voice was deep, gruff, and you had to admit, you liked it.

“Oh Sansy, shut it! He’s more than just literally hot,” Jen laughed, but you only felt more confused.

There was a joke somewhere in here, but it was flying over your head.

“jen, i’ve got a bone to pick with you,” his grin widened fractionally at his own joke, though he didn’t relax at all, “you’ve been pinning after him for months, lemme celebrate with you. after all, without me you wouldn’t have the backbone to have asked him out.”

Jen snorted, rolling her eyes good naturedly, “Okay Sansy, baby, you’re right.” She turned to you, “I’ve got a hot date with a certain flamesman.”

And suddenly, you understood. Actually, not only did you understand, you were also beyond ecstatic.

Grillby was one of the few monsters who treated you kindly from the get-go—at this point you considered him one of your few friends. You felt comfortable talking to the quiet elemental and cherished the nights you’d closed with him as well as the work he put in to train you to work here. You’d become pretty comfortable working: making food, drinks, and hosting people with a smile.

“Really?” You exclaimed, unable to hold in your excitement.

Sans expression soured as you joined back into the conversation, however he didn’t turn away like the other times you’d walked by.

“Yes, really!” Jen squeaked back, “So, you mind closing for me?”

“Not at all! I’m happy for you!”

She squealed and did something unprecedented: she hugged you around the middle, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around the pub. It warmed your soul.

 Closing by yourself wasn’t something you were used to. After Jen had left, though, most the patrons also left aside from one: Sans. You didn’t understand why he stayed. Grillbz had left early in the day, so it wasn’t like he was waiting for his friend to get off work. Jen was getting ready for her date with Grillby.

He remained quiet though, just sipping on his ketchup, and flicking through something on his phone. A couple times you’d caught him staring, and you could see the suspicion in his eyes.

It was… to put it mildly, frustrating. You weren’t some criminal. You’d worked there for about a week. You’d been nothing but polite, hard working, and kind. Why did so many of the monsters still hold such distrust of you?

You wish you understood more. Even after a year of living on the surface, there was not much known about the monsters or their abilities. The only thing remarkable that humans learned was about magic, and the brief history of magic. Some humans were excited about the magical potential that monsters claimed humans also had. Others claimed them to be demons and blasphemous, but few groups paid those zealots any mind.

Scientists speculated that with the re-emergence of magic with the monsters, perhaps humans would become more in tune with their own soul, and potentially regain the power to wield magic. However, not much was being done about the research, even a year after the discovery.

It wasn’t until you finished closing down, that Sans finally stood to leave as well. He held open the door for you while you fumbled with the ring of keys. Once the building was locked and secured, he spoke.

“i don’t like humans.”

You nodded, already aware.

“you don’t seem to be bad, though. just don’t fuck up.”

[allthislove]

I’m not proud of myself.

Today, I finally blew up at my roommate- soon to be former roommate. For me, it had been a long time coming. Living with her hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. Though she stays gone much of the time, usually not coming home before 9 or 10 PM and leaving before 8 AM, when she is home, she treats the apartment like it’s her domain. You ever met someone who wants everything done their way, or it’s a problem? She’s this way.

She’s belittling, undermining, and controlling... and per our conversation today, and the last time we had a big discussion like this a month ago, manipulative. (She loves to turn my complaints around on me, or twist the conversation into me somehow being in the wrong.)

Here’s the thing. She isn’t a bad person. In fact, I think if we hadn’t ever lived together, we could’ve been friends. She and I enjoy some of the same things, and she has a jovial attitude, when she’s... not in her “do as I say” mode. 

The major problem is that she just sees herself as the boss of the apartment. I believe she sees it as her apartment, and I’m just the person she let live with her. It’s my fault, though. For one, when we secured the apartment last summer, I hadn’t yet moved up to Brooklyn and had no intention of doing so until my semester started at NYU. So, she actually found the place (which is nice, but is in an area I hate), and she moved into it before me (though we signed the lease at the same time, and I paid rent and all deposits even before I got there.) I was assured that these things wouldn’t be a problem, but they were. The first few months I lived there, I felt like a guest. Not like.... she was treating me with hospitality and with courtesy. Like, I was a person invading space that belonged to her. Space that I paid equal rent and utilities for, mind you.

Then, as time went on, she became more and more of a control freak. It was blaming me for not taking out trash or washing dishes, it was manipulative lies about “not feeling like I(she) should have to clean up after someone.” It was “I just feel like if you use my dishes and don’t wash them right after, it’s disrespectful.” When I moved in, she and her mother insisted that she had all the dishes and appliances we needed, and I didn’t have to buy anything. When I expressed discomfort with that idea, they assured me it would be fine. I knew it would become a problem, and it did. 

My biggest mistake, thought, was getting hooked up with her in the first place. Her family is friends with my aunt’s family. They knew we were both headed to New York around the same time, her for work, me for grad school, and everyone was suggesting to me that we should move in together. Something inside of me said that wasn’t a great idea, but I did it, anyway. It was convenient and I figured it couldn’t be a bother, because I was mostly focusing on school. Now, I’ve told the girl off, and my only worry is for my aunt’s relationship with her friend.

My final straw came today. I’m back home with my family, and my roommate, like she does, sent me a Venmo charge for the electric bill. Which is fine. What isn’t fine is that she kept sending me reminder notifications. Which she’s done in the past, which I’ve asked her not to do. Then, I texted her and asked her not to send me reminders. She responded “Please me then”. I don’t know what she meant by that, and I sort of think it was a typo meant to say “pay me then.” But either way, it was rude and ugly and my LAST STRAW. Mind you, I pay all of my bills on time. I pay other bills than the measly one(s) we share together. This bitch has been trying to mentally paint me as a deadbeat who doesn’t pay bills for M O N T H S, which is fucking annoying, because I PAY ALL OF MY BILLS ON TIME. I pay 1 credit card, 1 cell phone, 1 medical payment, 2 insurance bills, Hulu, Netflix, HBO Now... EVERY MONTH. Not including the rent, electricity, and internet we pay together. (Oh, I also sponsor a child every month.)

Now, this fucking electric bill. I have actually never seen the actual bill. I never see how much the fucking bill costs. I have never seen when it’s due. I just take her word for it when she sends me a Venmo charge. And I pay it. Usually not that exact second, because I DON’T HOP TO for anyone and it’s Venmo, and the bill is PAID to the company, which is what matters most- essentially, I’m just paying HER back for it. Which is actually not a mode I like, and I didn’t tell her to set it up this way, and I’d much rather send money directly to the electric company than pay her back, but whatever. Mind you, I asked her months ago to tell me WHEN the bill was due and how much it was so I could determine my half and pay it to her on my own. I don’t need anyone to remind me to pay bills. I’m actually adult af, I’ve been paying bills on my own for Y E A R S. She has never shown me a bill nor told me when it’s due. She also claims she Venmos me on the same day every month, which is patently false. 

So, yeah, usually by today (the 28th-ish of each month) I’d pay rent and electricity and internet at the same time (meaning I’d pay rent to the landlord, and pay this roommate over Venmo). 

So, anyway, she texted me “please me then.” Which was a fucking weird ass text. So, I text back “Wtf. How about you sent me an actual copy of the bill. This shit is annoying af.”

Then she called me. She called me, thinking she was gonna “Queen Mother” and manipulate me into submission. But little does she know, the week I left to come home (the day after my birthday, May 18), I vowed that she had ONE MORE TIME to try me. And she caught me on the right day. When she started out her mouth with her bullshit, I LET HER HAVE IT. I READ HER FOR FILTH. And she kept trying her manipulative “no, you’re the problem” bullshit, but every time she came out her mouth with some shit, I read her even more. She even tried some “I don’t see what’s the problem with reminding you about a bill that’s PAST DUE”, to which I said “HOLD UP, sis, I PAY MY BILLS ON TIME. And you never told me when this bill was due, EVEN WHEN I ASKED YOU TO, so don’t even start that bullshit.”

And, like... I’m happy that I stood up for myself, and let her know that I’m not her doormat, I’m not her underling, and I don’t need her nor answer to her, but I’m sad that it had to come to this. Because I know she’s going to cry to her mom, and it’s going to get back to her grandma, and then to MY AUNT, and it’s going to be a whole thing.

And I know she’s going to lie and say “my roommate never wanted to pay bills and stuck me with everything.” Because, she said similar things about previous roommates when we first moved in together. She said she’d had problems with roommates in the past. Which is a red flag. Which I ignored, because ... I don’t always trust my intuition. But I guarantee her problems with roommates in the past is because she’s a bossy, manipulative person who wants everything her way and thinks people are supposed to fall in line after her. Which... is not me. Could never be me. 

And, like, it SUCKS because my aunt is really good friends with her family. Like, besties with her grandma. And also, I’m NERVOUS about my social interactions with people, and never wanted to have a roommate because I think I end up making everyone hate me (which isn’t really true, but you know... the few bad times always stand out.) And, like, I have one more year at NYU, and I have to have one more year of having roommates, probably, and I’m really scared to have another situation like this. 

And New York City is so expensive that living by yourself is hard or impossible. Like, unless I find some kind of really well paying job that is willing to allow me time to finish my classes, getting a place by myself isn’t really an option, or is a very unlikely option. 

ALSO, I think living with her was so stressful it was making me physically sick, and making my body have really adverse stress reactions, so there’s that. (Seriously, like... I was having a lot of stress-related health issues that ARE GONE AND I’VE ONLY BEEN HOME A WEEK.)

So... anyway, if any of y’all read this and care... please wish me luck in finding comfortable, nice housing in a nice area so that my home life can be comfortable and my only stress can be finishing my thesis so I can graduate next spring. And please send me “great roommate” vibes! I’ve heard of so many people finding roommates that become like family, and I need that in my life.... 

[exileseverafter]

Chapter 9

Green Magic

“As this was done in my name, I ask you to accept my apology. We will explain everything; we owe you that much.”

Ezra had helped Basil and Marjorie chase out what was by his account an absolutely ludicrous number of stray cats, snooped the area for mice or another frog on Marjorie’s advice, and moved a half-broken bookcase to barricade the door just in case. Aurora, the bear, was guarding the exterior of the cabin. Now there was nothing more to do than to sit at the table only ever used for baking and hear the truth. The thick wooden table had obviously been built by the previous owner, a man considerably taller than Ezra. Marjorie and Basil needed to sit on top of cookbooks in order to reach. The tiny Flower being sat on the table with her dress puffing out around her, somehow dignified despite being covered in a dusting of flour. The moth, which Ezra now recognized as the one which had landed on him when he’d first arrived, was sitting on the kitchen wall and resting. It was a little hard for Ezra to see the princess. He could make out a humanoid shape with dark skin, black hair with purple streaks that must have been ribbons, and a purple gown with bell sleeves. Her face was too small to perceive. If he had to concentrate to notice a human’s eye color, he would need a magnifying glass to read her expressions. It meant he had to rely on her voice and broader expressions to communicate with her. And what if his voice sounded like an earthquake to her? If humans were enormous in comparison to Philomene, how must he look? Self-consciousness made him sink back into his seat. What nonsense! His was the default size, so why did it bother him now? It was Marjorie who spoke first, at the princess’s blessing. Her face was a little red and there was a hint of unsteadiness in her voice, but she otherwise hid any shame she felt at having hidden Philomene from them. “So! As I’m sure you have figured out by now, this is our true reason for hiding out here. In all fairness to me, and I think I do deserve at least some fairness, I did tell Ezra that I was here on behalf of my mistress in distress. And she is absolutely in distress.” “So it would seem, milady.” Basil was switching between studying the princess and giving confused looks to Marjorie. He seemed a little put off by the size of the furniture, insisting on standing on his chair. “But why did you tell me you had a sick grandmother?” Marjorie frowned and tapped her chin. “That was a lie, yes. My grandmother is dead. But you have to understand, we were out here in the middle of nowhere and it was quite a stressful situation. Very much a change from palace life. You’re a prince, surely you must understand that?” “Marjorie!” Philomene’s tiny voice somehow managed to fill the room anyway. She stood up with the help of her cane and managed to stare down Marjorie. “We misled that poor boy and our landlord. Even if it was fear of my own safety, that doesn’t justify it.” She turned towards Basil and Ezra, giving a bow. “As this was done in my name, I ask you to accept my apology. We will explain everything; we owe you that much.” Marjorie looked for a moment as if she’d been slapped. “Princess, you needn’t apologize for me. I-I mean…” She looked so much like she wanted to sink into the wood of the chair that Ezra felt it difficult to maintain his irritation with her. “It’s alright,” he mumbled. “Really. Mostly I’m just hurt that you thought I’d ever endanger Princess Philomene.” He glanced away, hiding a scowl. “I know I’m bigger than you all and must be a frightening sight sometimes, but I’d rather not be treated like a criminal down her before I’ve even had a chance to do anything.” Not that he’d done anything up there, he added mentally. At least he could understand why the humans might regard him with suspicion, though it was impossible to tell what the little Flower Folk thought of him. “Anyway.” He clasped his hands under his chin. “You can stay here as long as you like, if it’s still safe for you. I’m not sure why you call me ‘Landlord’ since neither of you pay any rent, but Marjorie did tell me about the Market. I wouldn’t be able to make a living without it. And a baker who can’t bake is like a…a…it’s a…I’m not a poet and I’m no good at metaphor. You know what I mean.” He heard a tiny giggle from Philomene. “That’s simile, Mr. Kettle. But thank you! It will be a great asset to have you on our side. Nobody threatens a giant…” At this Ezra felt himself blush and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’d be surprised…” But even if it was only due to his relative size, it did feel nice to be wanted for once. Wasn’t he supposed to be angry at Marjorie for lying? He really was a pushover. It was Philomene who turned to Marjorie. “I understand,” the princess said. “You just wanted to do what you thought was best to protect me. I respect your loyalty, and I’m sorry I yelled at you. But we should try being a bit more straightforward from this point on. It’s okay to trust some people.” “I know, I know…” Marjorie apparently turned into a scolded puppy around the princess, her usual slick confidence having melted away. “I really am sorry about that, you two. It’s just that-” “Princess!” Basil interrupted Marjorie, leaning forward on the table and staring down at the poor Flower girl. “I don’t know what Thumbelina Kingdom is or what dangers you’re hiding from, but as a prince I vow on my honor and this, um, table to do everything in my power to protect you and defeat whoever threatens you! You have my sword and my courage and my strength, and I won’t rest until justice is done!” Philomene was crouching and covering her ears, and her tone sounded a little pained when she looked up at Basil. “Thank you, Prince Basil. I appreciate all of those things. But perhaps you’d like to hear what that threat is before you make that promise?” “I hold the promise all the same! Be it dragon or wizard or wicked giiiaaaogre, I vow to-ow! Marjorie!” Basil shot a little glare at Marjorie as she pulled him back onto his chair by his hood. Ezra, meanwhile, tried his best to ignore the little voice wishing that Basil would make that sort of vow to him. Ezra was not in distress at the moment, after all, and he knew he was being petty at the wrong time. “Her highness is probably a little exhausted from her ordeal, and would probably appreciate if you could abstain from CROWDING HER or LOUD NOISES.” Marjorie gave meaningful looks to Basil and Ezra. Basil retreated into his chair as he seemed to catch on. “I wasn’t being loud. Was I? Am I loud?” Ezra found listening to his own voice was an impractical way to tell. “No, dear, but just consider it a preemptive suggestion. As I was going say, I’ll let Philomene rest while I explain our situation,” Marjorie said. Ezra raised an eyebrow. “No lying this time? No fake grandmothers, no conveniently dropped information, no failing to mention other possibly high profile individuals living in this shack they’ve decided is my house?” “Promise! I owe you that much.” Marjorie held up her hands. “See? No fingers crossed. Nothing but a firsthand account of the fall of the Kingdom of Thumbelina, where humans and Flower Folk lived side by side in harmony. A tragic tale of Ezra where are you going?” Ezra was up on his feet, heading to the stove. “Tensions are obviously high, Her Highness has had a rough night and we’re all probably a little tired from the marketplace. We’re about to hear a story, and we’ll hear it over tea. And I set a cherry tart aside that I’m sure I can divide by four. Three and one very small sliver? Whichever. You’re all currently my guests and my pride demands I offer hospitality, something I would have done earlier if you weren’t always off by yourself.” That wasn’t entirely true, he had to admit; he’d mostly avoided Marjorie and pretended she wasn’t there. He also knew he was preparing tea mostly as a stress relief for himself, as he needed to do something a bit ‘normal’ after all that had happened that evening. There would be tea. He understood tea. Marjorie shrugged. “If you insist on offering us refreshments I certainly owe it to you not to turn them down. I’ll just start telling you the story.” # “As I said, Thumbelina Kingdom is a place where humans and Flower Folk lived together. It was hidden in a hollowed-out mountain which, I have been told, used to be some sort of volcano. That detail is completely irrelevant to the story, but I thought you might find it interesting. It was lit from the inside by lanterns and luminescent mushrooms, with moss and greenery growing along the walls. Quite a lovely place. The humans who lived there resided in the bigger tunnels, and the Flower Folk lived in smaller residences inside the cavern walls or in hanging gardens. Flower Folk like Philomene give off a natural magical aura that makes plants grow more readily, so they were able to survive without much sunlight. The plants, I mean. A human monarch and a Folk one always ruled side by side in each generation, and any humans considered too much of a threat to the Folk were summarily exiled as a threat to the greater good. Ezra, are you okay? Do be careful! I’d hate to see you spill tea on yourself after you went to the trouble of making it. Ahem. So it’d been relatively peaceful for generations, until that Toad showed up. We had a few Enlightened animals residing in Thumbelina, mostly mice or insects. The Toad was not terribly bright, but he was quite obviously Enlightened and had apparently come to attend university there. That was his cover, anyway; personally I suspect he had this planned from the start. Well, some time passes and he bursts from the library one day, claiming he has a right to marry one of the princesses, seeing as their ancestor, the Revered Thumbelina, ran away from a marriage to his ancestor, the…Toad. I suppose they’re all Toads. Not terribly creative, amphibians. This is quite a surprise to us and frankly a little baffling, as he had been a casual friend to the princess in the past. But no, he was absolutely adamant that one of them should marry him, carrying on about divine right of this and honor of his forefathers that. I don’t need to tell you how that went over, do I? He wouldn’t leave her alone, and was eventually expelled for such behavior. Rightly so! That should have been the end of it. But then things started going awry. The plants along the walls began growing out of control. It was slow at first, until suddenly we had entire tunnels clogged by weeds within a few hours. The central cavern almost collapsed when an entire oak tree sprouted within it, growing in a matter of minutes. We humans helped the Flower Folk evacuate as the disaster became more dire, but we could only do so much. The Toad arrived and claimed responsibility, which seems impossible as he hadn’t a single bit of magic. He said he’d let up if the Princess would marry him. She actually considered it, being a selfless leader of her people, but that would have only made the situation worse. Besides, why should bullies get their way? Instead the guards attempted to arrest him and he vanished before a human could stomp him out, which is frankly a tragedy. When he vanished he left behind a puff of seeds, which landed and grew into briars. Those briars enveloped the palace, sprouting massive red roses which gave off some kind of poisonous scent. Anyone who breathed them in fell into some manner of sleep like death. Philomene was lucky to have been outside trying to investigate the phenomenon, and she was the only member of the royal family not affected by the curse. All she could determine was that Green Magic was used. That’s all we know! I was not lying about being the court jester. I'm just also a bodyguard. I was Philomene’s servant and still am, so I ran off with her to protect her. That’s how we ended up here, in the almost literal middle of nowhere. All we can do right now is figure out who did it and how they did it so we can reverse the spell. Oh, and bring whoever’s using this Green Magic to justice. Green Magic is what it sounds like, magic using enchanted plants. It’s a little like that aura the Flower Folk have, magnified by a thousand. But it’s usually considered small fry magic, used to increase harvest or create decorative flower beds. According to Philomene’s research there’s never been a precedent for it being used on this scale! Well, not like this anyway. So I’ve been going to Moonflower Market trying to pick up any sort of potentially magical bits and pieces I can get ahold of for cheap in exchange for my painted miniatures, and Philomene dissects them, soaks them or melts them down to try to find bits and pieces of spells. Neither of us is a wizard, but she thinks we might be able to assemble an antidote spell with the right components. It’s just a matter of finding them, which so far is proving to be like sorting out a single bead in a silo full of them. And I’m sure I saw some woman selling magic plants at the marketplace the other day, but she hasn’t shown her face since. But not all is grim! All we need is to find the right pea, the right seed, maybe the right enchanted bean and… Oh, Ezra! Really, are you alright? Splash some cold water on it!” Ezra had indeed spilled hot tea on his shaking hands, but he was almost too shaken to register the reddish mark on his palm. “No, it’s my fault. I made the water too hot. Just, pardon me. I might know something about this. You said…” He turned to stare at her over his shoulder. “You said plants, right? Enchanted plants?” Marjorie stared at him for a moment, and he felt as if he was being dissected in the name of science himself. “Yes, I did. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” “I know you said neither one of you knows how this was done, except that it used this Green Magic.” Ezra could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Is it possible that same kind of magic could make a beanstalk grow?” Marjorie glanced towards Philomene, and the princess considered for a moment before speaking in a squeaky, scholarly tone. “I don’t see why not. Just one beanstalk?” “Yes, but a very large one. One big enough to support the weight of someone my size.” It had not been enough to support Hamilton Tooth, who was considerably bigger. “One tall enough to reach from the Center of the Universe, I mean the land, to the Sky. One that could anchor its roots down here and its longest tendrils in a Cloud Island.” “I can only imagine how much magic that would take. I’d consider it impossible had I not seen what had happened to my own kingdom.” Philomene leaned on her cane. “I take it this isn’t a rhetorical question?” “Someone did it. I don’t know who, but someone did it and the result was that one of us ended up robbed and murdered. And that’s why I’m here, because the people of the Sky need a scapegoat in order to feel safe.” Ezra hoped the bitterness in his voice was not too apparent. “But I can’t imagine why they would. The Sky didn’t end up ravaged by plants the way Thumbelina did. The only thing the beanstalk brought was…" “Jack!” Basil snapped his fingers. “You’re talking about Jack!” Ezra twitched. “You know him, Prince?” “Why, word of his adventure has already spread far and wide! He traded his only cow for magic beans, and climbed to the Sky where he faced a ferocious giant who tried to eat him. He barely escaped with his life, returning with a harp that sings on its own and a huge goose that lays golden eggs. I heard about it when my brother came to visit me a few days ago. He said Jack told his story in song thanks to the harp, and earned the respect of the Ever After Empress herself. And…” Basil trailed off, covering his mouth. “Oh. Oh, wait. I see. I’m so sorry, Sir Ezra! I didn’t think about it. It must not have been so glorious for you.” “No,” Ezra managed, “it wasn’t. It’s quite alright, though.” He tried to remember the Jack he’d known, frightened and hungry, and reconcile it with what he’d heard. Jack couldn’t have been lying about his desperation, could he? And he was probably just a pawn, just like this Toad. And certainly Hamilton Tooth might threaten to eat a human in a drunken rage even if he probably wouldn’t actually go through with it. And that foolish, ungrateful little brat had HIS FAMILY’S GOOSE. Ezra took a deep breath. “Well! I’m happy for him. Really! He seemed like he needed some help.” The Sun would reward virtue in the end, he reminded himself. He had to gulp down half his tea before continuing, to calm himself down. “I’m sorry, you were talking about much greater problems and I dragged the conversation off to talk about my own. That was awfully self-centered of me. I’d love to help in any way I can, especially since we might be suffering from the results of the same Green Magic. But I really don’t know anything about it. I’m just a baker. Of course, as I said, you have my shelter…” “And my sword, and all I offered before. I can talk to my fairy godmothers to see if they’ve heard anything. I can defeat those wolves the next time they menace you!” Basil had bounced back completely from his misstep. Ezra had to admit, that was somehow a bit endearing. Basil’s cheer was contagious, as was his proud grin. So what if Basil occasionally misspoke, or Marjorie fibbed, or Philomene talked about concepts he didn’t understand? Basil saved him and was charming. Philomene seemed kind and noble, and Marjorie was, well, Marjorie. He found, for all the strange news regarding malicious plant magic and fallen kingdoms landing in his lap, he liked talking with them about it. That was something. Ezra hadn’t enjoyed talking with Hamilton Tooth about anything. “The wolves are odd. I don’t know how they fit into anything yet.” Marjorie thought about it and then shrugged. “And I promise to lie in service to this investigation…” She seemed to notice Philomene giving her a meaningful look, one too small for Ezra to see. “And to tell the truth to you,” she added. “Honest. Just, one knows what one is good at, right?” “You all might be of more help than you think,” Philomene said. “I would like to speak with you tomorrow in private, Ezra.” Ezra had no idea how he’d manage to converse one on one with someone so tiny, but he agreed with a little nod. There really was something authoritative about the princess. “I just can’t imagine why the same person would enact such complete destruction on a kingdom of Flower Folk,” Ezra said, “but play what amounts to a prank on Mielle. What could the motivation be? I mean, is it even the same person? We know it was plants. Plants!” He slapped his forehead. “That’s what I wanted to be on the lookout for at the marketplace! Magic plants, because of that. I spent all my money on seasonings and ingredients I can’t get ahold of instead. You know, for next time.” Basil patted his side. “It’s alright! You know for next time.” “I know. I just can’t believe it slipped my mind. I must have been distracted. It’s so late. I may just be tired.” His mind had been consumed with the idea of impressing someone. Who? Was it one of the customers? All he knew was that when he tried to think back, he was left with a strong urge to conquer one of those recipes in his book if it took him all night to do so. It had to be stress. Surely after such a night he had a right to stress, didn’t he?

[stereksummerexchange]

Living That No-Neighbor Life

@braedens | AO3 - everybody probably knows by now that ace!Derek is my favorite thing, so bless you for giving me an excuse to write more of it ^u^

by @clotpolesonly

“So the real estate agent makes the assumption that their marriage involves sex. Most people do! Derek sees it on his face the second Stiles decides to be a dick about it this time, but he knows better than to think he can stop it. All he can do is pinch the bridge of his nose and brace himself as the bright, false smile lights up his beloved husband’s face.”

The first place was an apartment and it was too cramped. The second was a duplex but wasn’t nearly nice enough for the price. The third was a tract house that may or may not have been the set of a horror movie in the past, or if it hadn’t then it was missing its chance. By the fourth place, Derek was starting to lose faith in their frazzled but determinedly perky real estate agent.

“This next one is a real zinger,” she said after each flop. “Best of the bunch! I’ve been fighting people off with a stick!”

Stiles had snorted the first two times she’d said it, laughed outright the third, and by now he had resorted to mocking her under his breath and shooting exasperated looks at Derek.

Derek could handle the perkiness if he had to—that sort of attitude tended to deflate when it ran into his natural stoicism anyway, at least after a while—but Stiles’ tendency towards earnest-sounding sarcasm just added fuel to her fire when she didn’t recognize that it was sarcasm. She took it at face value and genuinely thought that he was as excited as she was.

With this mistaken camaraderie in mind, she seemed to have taken Stiles as more of a new friend than a client she needed to be professional with. She kept whispering asides to him conspiratorially, thinking Derek couldn’t hear her, which made the both of them roll their eyes as soon as she turned away to espouse the virtues of the newest property.

It was never anything bad or mean-spirited, at least. Just gossipy.

“No worrying about landlords here, no sir! Only so many times you can lie about the dog before you lose your mind, am I right?”

“The owner says these are the original floors, but between you and me? Definitely repanelled. Twice!”

“Hell of a catch you got with this one, kid. Hubba-hubba!”

That last one was a little cringe-worthy, but it was far from the first time Derek had overheard comments like that about himself. He was used to it, and even Stiles had taken that one on the chin with a smile and a “Yup, he’s all mine!”

But then they reached the seventh place on the agent’s never-ending list. It was a gorgeous two-storey house with an open floor plan, a backyard that bordered a small strip of woods, and an isolation that drove the price down where they could afford it without dipping into the Hale insurance money. Derek was smiling almost as soon as he got out of the car, seeing wide windows perfectly positioned to let in the kind of light he would need for his painting. Stiles bumped his shoulder on the way up the drive and took off to explore as soon as the agent got the door open.

“It’s a bit out of the way,” the agent said apologetically. “But the road’s got a straight shot into town and the school zoning is excellent, for whenever that comes up for you two. This house is definitely big enough for a few young ‘uns! Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, more than enough!”

“Der, this place has got a trap door to the roof. How cool is that?” Stiles called as he came clomping down the staircase. “You can see over the trees for like fifty miles in every direction.”

“Fifty miles?” Derek repeated. “Really?”

“Maybe slightly hyperbolic,” Stiles allowed, “but that’s totally not the point. There’s no one around anywhere.”

For a growing pack of werewolves with a penchant for getting into fights, that could only be a good thing. Fewer witnesses, fewer potential civilian casualties, fewer people to notice when the inevitable second generation started teething with actual fangs.

The agent though, humans as she was, set about apologizing again right away, listing all the compensating features ad nauseam. Derek was content to ignore her, focusing all his attention on watching Stiles flit around the spacious living room, running his hands over all the display furniture and poking his head out all of the windows.

But then the agent ended her sales pitch with a nudge to Stiles’ side and a sly, “And no nosy neighbors? No shared walls? That just means you can be as loud as you want in the bedroom, am I right?”

Derek saw it on his face the second Stiles decided to be a dick about it, but he knew better than to think he could stop it. All he could do was pinch the bridge of his nose and brace himself as the bright, false smile lit up his beloved husband’s face.

“Yes!” Stiles said definitively. “Yes, you are so right! God, Derek, that’ll be such a relief, won’t it?”

“Sure it will, honey.”

“Finally, we can put away the gags,” Stiles went on with an exaggerated sigh of relief. He leaned in toward the agent, whose mouth had fallen open in shock; she clearly had not expected him to agree in such sordid detail. “You know, our last neighbors hated us. You’d never believe how many noise complaints we got because of our sex noises. We just—”

Stiles stopped to scoff, his eyebrows doing a complicated wriggling motion that was probably intended to be suggestive. He sent Derek a commiserating look that didn’t falter in the slightest when Derek’s response was less than impressed.

“We just have so much sex!” Stiles said loudly to the scandalized agent. “Like, so much sex! Really, just, everywhere, you know? I’m so glad this place has three bedrooms, ‘cause we’re gonna need ‘em, you know what I mean? And don’t even get me started on that bathtub upstairs! That’ll be perfect for that thing we do every single night with the—”

“Stiles.”

“Won’t it, Der?” Stiles asked, undeterred. “No neighbors, Derek! Isn’t that great for all that sex we’re having? So much sex, I’m surprised we haven’t pulled a muscle, but we’re still young and there’ll be time for more sex-related injuries when we’re old and decrepit and still having sex, right?”

“So you, uh…” the poor agent started to say, but she was so shellshocked that it took her several seconds to rally herself. “So you…like the house then?”

“Of course we do, it’s perfect for having—”

“We like the house,” Derek said, firmly enough to put an end to it. “We’re going to look around a bit more today, if you don’t mind, but we’ll meet you back at your office to finish the paperwork at your earliest convenience. Thanks for your time.”

She bustled out the door without even a cheerful “have a nice day,” and Stiles was laughing the second she was out of hearing range, bent over with the force of it and braced on his knees.

“Aw, man, did you see her face?”

“Was that really necessary?” Derek asked, though the corners of his mouth were turning up no matter how hard he tried to pull them into something disapproving. He could never resist a smile when Stiles laughed like that, even after all these years.

“Sure it was,” Stiles said, straightening up and wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “If people are gonna make assumptions like that, then they should be prepared to get confirmation of it. Don’t bring up sex if you don’t wanna talk about sex.”

“Assumptions like thinking a married couple probably have sex with each other?” Derek asked. “That’s not exactly out of the ballpark. It’s an assumption pretty much everyone makes.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” Stiles said staunchly, coming forward to wrap arms around Derek’s waist and pull him close. “Just because we’re married, that doesn’t require sex. Asexuality is a thing and sex-repulsion is also a thing and—”

“And most people don’t know that.”

“They should,” Stiles repeated. “And I will mock them until they do.”

“I appreciate your oblique efforts towards educating the world about my orientation,” Derek said, half joking and half sincere, “but all that? Did you really have to traumatize her with graphic accounts of our fictional sex life?”

“She started it!” Stiles protested. “I just responded in kind. It’s not my fault she wasn’t prepared to hear the answer to her own question. What’s wrong with appreciating the irony here?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think that’s quite what irony is, babe.”

“Fuck if I know,” Stiles said with a shrug. “That one song really fucked up my understanding of the concept. If rain on your wedding day isn’t ironic, then what the hell is? Seriously.”

“Not this.”

“That’s very helpful, love, thank you for your input on the subject.”

Despite his snark, Stiles dropped a kiss on Derek’s lips before extricating himself from the embrace. He headed toward the back of the house instead, leaning out the back door to critically eye the yard and moving on to poke around in the kitchen. Derek was content to let Stiles take the lead on the in depth examination; they’d both already decided they were going to buy it anyway. This was just Stiles’ natural curiosity and nosiness at work.

“She was right about one thing,” Stiles said as Derek followed in his wake, already lost in imaginings of Stiles cooking here, bed-headed and in his pajamas, early on a Sunday morning with the sunrise gilding him through the east-facing row of windows.

“What’s that?” Derek asked absently. But his attention was caught fully when Stiles turned back to him with the most beautiful smile on his face, small and soft and brilliantly happy.

“It’s perfect for kids,” he said and Derek’s heart swelled almost painfully in his chest, crowding the sudden lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Yeah, it really is, isn’t it?”

“I can just see it,” Stiles said, staring out the nearest window with eyes unfocused. “A little girl with your dark hair, running around out there and clawing her way up trees, growling with her little toddler fangs.”

Derek could see it too. It brought back memories of his childhood, back when there had been half a dozen kids in the Hale family, always playing tag in the woods with his sisters and play-fighting his cousins until one of them tagged out and escaped up a tree just like Stiles was describing. For all that Derek’s life had been marked by tragedy over and over again, at least he could honestly say that he’d had a happy childhood. And he would make damn sure his kids got the same.

Stiles was still lost in his fantasizing. “Or maybe she’ll have Lydia’s hair,” he amended. “I don’t know how this whole suregacy thing works, really. I can never remember which set of genes is doing what.” He shrugged loosely. “Not that it matters. Your and Lydia’s baby is gonna be fucking stunning no matter how the chips fall there.”

Derek had to frown at that. “It won’t be my and Lydia’s baby,” he reminded him. “It’s ours.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Stiles said quickly, turning back to face him. “I can’t not know that, trust me. This may be Lydia’s test run for motherhood, but it’s the real deal for us.”

“Test run?” Derek repeated, eyebrow raised. “Is that what she’s calling it now?”

“Not in so many words,” Stiles said with a laugh, leaning back to perch on the thin windowsill as best he could. “But that’s totally what it is. I think she’s deemed the morning sickness and sore back acceptable, but the way people keep trying to do things for her and make her sit down might be a deal breaker on the whole pregnancy thing.”

“Allison can be a tiny bit of a worrywart,” Derek agreed, thinking back on the last time he’d seen the two of them. Allison had been insisting that she could carry seven bags of snack food from the car to Scott’s house by herself and without any help from her pregnant girlfriend who should really go inside and put her feet up.

“She’s not the least bit concerned about the actual birthing part,” Stiles said. “I’m pretty sure she’s just withholding her final judgment on the matter until she sees how we handle the first few months of newborn stress.”

“I can almost guarantee Cora will have identical findings,” Derek told him, but Stiles was already shushing him.

“No, don’t start saying stuff like that!” he hissed. “You’re gonna jinx it! She hasn’t officially agreed yet, remember?”

“But she will,” Derek assured him. He closed the gap between them until he could take Stiles’ face in his hands. “I know my sister, Stiles. She may be iffy on having kids of her own right now, but she wants me to be happy. And she wants to continue the Hale line as much as I do, one way or another.”

That was something they had talked about together. Theirs had always been a big family, and the thought of it being culled down to just the two of them hurt in more ways than just them missing the loved ones they had lost. Not to mention that the Hales had been one of the oldest, longest-standing born werewolf packs in the country. True strength ran in their blood, as well as a propensity for the full wolf shift. It was such a rare ability nowadays, he and Cora both agreed it would be a shame not to pass it on.

“Even if it means being my baby mama?” Stiles asked.

Derek snorted before he could stop himself. “If you ever call her that where she can hear, I guarantee she will call the whole thing off and also probably kick you in the balls hard enough to prevent you from ever having children with anyone, much less her,” he warned.

“Nah,” Stiles said, unconcerned, fingers finding their way naturally to Derek’s belt loops and pulling him in further. “She loves me almost as much as you do.”

Derek hummed in consideration before leaning in that last little bit to place a kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I set the bar pretty high.”

Stiles chuckled, his scent warm and spicy and positively reeking of affection, just as Derek was sure his was. Derek couldn’t help but breathe it in and revel in it, hoping to god that they kept hold of this giddy kind of love long enough to embarrass their children with moments like this.

“You know,” Stiles said innocently, glancing up at him in a way that was probably meant to be coy but was far too eager to manage it, “that bathtub upstairs really is perfect for two.”

Taking a bubble bath together, swaddled in intimate warmth and all wrapped up in each other, was a glorious idea, and one that they indulged in on a regular basis even though their current apartment really wasn’t equipped for it. There was just one problem that Derek felt obliged to point out: “I think it’s probably tactless to get naked in a house before even the down payment.”

Stiles’ smirk was completely unrepentant when he said, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not known for my tact then, isn’t it?”

He shouted with laughter as Derek chased him up the stairs, the bright sound of it echoing loudly all around their soon-to-be home, and for once there were no grouchy neighbors to complain.

The first place was an apartment and it was too cramped. The second was a duplex but wasn’t nearly nice enough for the price. The third was a tract house that may or may not have been the set of a horror movie in the past, or if it hadn’t then it was missing its chance. By the fourth place, Derek was starting to lose faith in their frazzled but determinedly perky real estate agent.

“This next one is a real zinger,” she said after each flop. “Best of the bunch! I’ve been fighting people off with a stick!”

Stiles had snorted the first two times she’d said it, laughed outright the third, and by now he had resorted to mocking her under his breath and shooting exasperated looks at Derek.

Derek could handle the perkiness if he had to—that sort of attitude tended to deflate when it ran into his natural stoicism anyway, at least after a while—but Stiles’ tendency towards earnest-sounding sarcasm just added fuel to her fire when she didn’t recognize that it was sarcasm. She took it at face value and genuinely thought that he was as excited as she was.

With this mistaken camaraderie in mind, she seemed to have taken Stiles as more of a new friend than a client she needed to be professional with. She kept whispering asides to him conspiratorially, thinking Derek couldn’t hear her, which made the both of them roll their eyes as soon as she turned away to espouse the virtues of the newest property.

It was never anything bad or mean-spirited, at least. Just gossipy.

“No worrying about landlords here, no sir! Only so many times you can lie about the dog before you lose your mind, am I right?”

“The owner says these are the original floors, but between you and me? Definitely repanelled. Twice!”

“Hell of a catch you got with this one, kid. Hubba-hubba!”

That last one was a little cringe-worthy, but it was far from the first time Derek had overheard comments like that about himself. He was used to it, and even Stiles had taken that one on the chin with a smile and a “Yup, he’s all mine!”

But then they reached the seventh place on the agent’s never-ending list. It was a gorgeous two-storey house with an open floor plan, a backyard that bordered a small strip of woods, and an isolation that drove the price down where they could afford it without dipping into the Hale insurance money. Derek was smiling almost as soon as he got out of the car, seeing wide windows perfectly positioned to let in the kind of light he would need for his painting. Stiles bumped his shoulder on the way up the drive and took off to explore as soon as the agent got the door open.

“It’s a bit out of the way,” the agent said apologetically. “But the road’s got a straight shot into town and the school zoning is excellent, for whenever that comes up for you two. This house is definitely big enough for a few young ‘uns! Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, more than enough!”

“Der, this place has got a trap door to the roof. How cool is that?” Stiles called as he came clomping down the staircase. “You can see over the trees for like fifty miles in every direction.”

“Fifty miles?” Derek repeated. “Really?”

“Maybe slightly hyperbolic,” Stiles allowed, “but that’s totally not the point. There’s no one around anywhere.”

For a growing pack of werewolves with a penchant for getting into fights, that could only be a good thing. Fewer witnesses, fewer potential civilian casualties, fewer people to notice when the inevitable second generation started teething with actual fangs.

The agent though, humans as she was, set about apologizing again right away, listing all the compensating features ad nauseam. Derek was content to ignore her, focusing all his attention on watching Stiles flit around the spacious living room, running his hands over all the display furniture and poking his head out all of the windows.

But then the agent ended her sales pitch with a nudge to Stiles’ side and a sly, “And no nosy neighbors? No shared walls? That just means you can be as loud as you want in the bedroom, am I right?”

Derek saw it on his face the second Stiles decided to be a dick about it, but he knew better than to think he could stop it. All he could do was pinch the bridge of his nose and brace himself as the bright, false smile lit up his beloved husband’s face.

“Yes!” Stiles said definitively. “Yes, you are so right! God, Derek, that’ll be such a relief, won’t it?”

“Sure it will, honey.”

“Finally, we can put away the gags,” Stiles went on with an exaggerated sigh of relief. He leaned in toward the agent, whose mouth had fallen open in shock; she clearly had not expected him to agree in such sordid detail. “You know, our last neighbors hated us. You’d never believe how many noise complaints we got because of our sex noises. We just—”

Stiles stopped to scoff, his eyebrows doing a complicated wriggling motion that was probably intended to be suggestive. He sent Derek a commiserating look that didn’t falter in the slightest when Derek’s response was less than impressed.

“We just have so much sex!” Stiles said loudly to the scandalized agent. “Like, so much sex! Really, just, everywhere, you know? I’m so glad this place has three bedrooms, ‘cause we’re gonna need ‘em, you know what I mean? And don’t even get me started on that bathtub upstairs! That’ll be perfect for that thing we do every single night with the—”

“Stiles.”

“Won’t it, Der?” Stiles asked, undeterred. “No neighbors, Derek! Isn’t that great for all that sex we’re having? So much sex, I’m surprised we haven’t pulled a muscle, but we’re still young and there’ll be time for more sex-related injuries when we’re old and decrepit and still having sex, right?”

“So you, uh…” the poor agent started to say, but she was so shellshocked that it took her several seconds to rally herself. “So you…like the house then?”

“Of course we do, it’s perfect for having—”

“We like the house,” Derek said, firmly enough to put an end to it. “We’re going to look around a bit more today, if you don’t mind, but we’ll meet you back at your office to finish the paperwork at your earliest convenience. Thanks for your time.”

She bustled out the door without even a cheerful “have a nice day,” and Stiles was laughing the second she was out of hearing range, bent over with the force of it and braced on his knees.

“Aw, man, did you see her face?”

“Was that really necessary?” Derek asked, though the corners of his mouth were turning up no matter how hard he tried to pull them into something disapproving. He could never resist a smile when Stiles laughed like that, even after all these years.

“Sure it was,” Stiles said, straightening up and wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “If people are gonna make assumptions like that, then they should be prepared to get confirmation of it. Don’t bring up sex if you don’t wanna talk about sex.”

“Assumptions like thinking a married couple probably have sex with each other?” Derek asked. “That’s not exactly out of the ballpark. It’s an assumption pretty much everyone makes.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” Stiles said staunchly, coming forward to wrap arms around Derek’s waist and pull him close. “Just because we’re married, that doesn’t require sex. Asexuality is a thing and sex-repulsion is also a thing and—”

“And most people don’t know that.”

“They should,” Stiles repeated. “And I will mock them until they do.”

“I appreciate your oblique efforts towards educating the world about my orientation,” Derek said, half joking and half sincere, “but all that? Did you really have to traumatize her with graphic accounts of our fictional sex life?”

“She started it!” Stiles protested. “I just responded in kind. It’s not my fault she wasn’t prepared to hear the answer to her own question. What’s wrong with appreciating the irony here?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t think that’s quite what irony is, babe.”

“Fuck if I know,” Stiles said with a shrug. “That one song really fucked up my understanding of the concept. If rain on your wedding day isn’t ironic, then what the hell is? Seriously.”

“Not this.”

“That’s very helpful, love, thank you for your input on the subject.”

Despite his snark, Stiles dropped a kiss on Derek’s lips before extricating himself from the embrace. He headed toward the back of the house instead, leaning out the back door to critically eye the yard and moving on to poke around in the kitchen. Derek was content to let Stiles take the lead on the in depth examination; they’d both already decided they were going to buy it anyway. This was just Stiles’ natural curiosity and nosiness at work.

“She was right about one thing,” Stiles said as Derek followed in his wake, already lost in imaginings of Stiles cooking here, bed-headed and in his pajamas, early on a Sunday morning with the sunrise gilding him through the east-facing row of windows.

“What’s that?” Derek asked absently. But his attention was caught fully when Stiles turned back to him with the most beautiful smile on his face, small and soft and brilliantly happy.

“It’s perfect for kids,” he said and Derek’s heart swelled almost painfully in his chest, crowding the sudden lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Yeah, it really is, isn’t it?”

“I can just see it,” Stiles said, staring out the nearest window with eyes unfocused. “A little girl with your dark hair, running around out there and clawing her way up trees, growling with her little toddler fangs.”

Derek could see it too. It brought back memories of his childhood, back when there had been half a dozen kids in the Hale family, always playing tag in the woods with his sisters and play-fighting his cousins until one of them tagged out and escaped up a tree just like Stiles was describing. For all that Derek’s life had been marked by tragedy over and over again, at least he could honestly say that he’d had a happy childhood. And he would make damn sure his kids got the same.

Stiles was still lost in his fantasizing. “Or maybe she’ll have Lydia’s hair,” he amended. “I don’t know how this whole suregacy thing works, really. I can never remember which set of genes is doing what.” He shrugged loosely. “Not that it matters. Your and Lydia’s baby is gonna be fucking stunning no matter how the chips fall there.”

Derek had to frown at that. “It won’t be my and Lydia’s baby,” he reminded him. “It’s ours.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Stiles said quickly, turning back to face him. “I can’t not know that, trust me. This may be Lydia’s test run for motherhood, but it’s the real deal for us.”

“Test run?” Derek repeated, eyebrow raised. “Is that what she’s calling it now?”

“Not in so many words,” Stiles said with a laugh, leaning back to perch on the thin windowsill as best he could. “But that’s totally what it is. I think she’s deemed the morning sickness and sore back acceptable, but the way people keep trying to do things for her and make her sit down might be a deal breaker on the whole pregnancy thing.”

“Allison can be a tiny bit of a worrywart,” Derek agreed, thinking back on the last time he’d seen the two of them. Allison had been insisting that she could carry seven bags of snack food from the car to Scott’s house by herself and without any help from her pregnant girlfriend who should really go inside and put her feet up.

“She’s not the least bit concerned about the actual birthing part,” Stiles said. “I’m pretty sure she’s just withholding her final judgment on the matter until she sees how we handle the first few months of newborn stress.”

“I can almost guarantee Cora will have identical findings,” Derek told him, but Stiles was already shushing him.

“No, don’t start saying stuff like that!” he hissed. “You’re gonna jinx it! She hasn’t officially agreed yet, remember?”

“But she will,” Derek assured him. He closed the gap between them until he could take Stiles’ face in his hands. “I know my sister, Stiles. She may be iffy on having kids of her own right now, but she wants me to be happy. And she wants to continue the Hale line as much as I do, one way or another.”

That was something they had talked about together. Theirs had always been a big family, and the thought of it being culled down to just the two of them hurt in more ways than just them missing the loved ones they had lost. Not to mention that the Hales had been one of the oldest, longest-standing born werewolf packs in the country. True strength ran in their blood, as well as a propensity for the full wolf shift. It was such a rare ability nowadays, he and Cora both agreed it would be a shame not to pass it on.

“Even if it means being my baby mama?” Stiles asked.

Derek snorted before he could stop himself. “If you ever call her that where she can hear, I guarantee she will call the whole thing off and also probably kick you in the balls hard enough to prevent you from ever having children with anyone, much less her,” he warned.

“Nah,” Stiles said, unconcerned, fingers finding their way naturally to Derek’s belt loops and pulling him in further. “She loves me almost as much as you do.”

Derek hummed in consideration before leaning in that last little bit to place a kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I set the bar pretty high.”

Stiles chuckled, his scent warm and spicy and positively reeking of affection, just as Derek was sure his was. Derek couldn’t help but breathe it in and revel in it, hoping to god that they kept hold of this giddy kind of love long enough to embarrass their children with moments like this.

“You know,” Stiles said innocently, glancing up at him in a way that was probably meant to be coy but was far too eager to manage it, “that bathtub upstairs really is perfect for two.”

Taking a bubble bath together, swaddled in intimate warmth and all wrapped up in each other, was a glorious idea, and one that they indulged in on a regular basis even though their current apartment really wasn’t equipped for it. There was just one problem that Derek felt obliged to point out: “I think it’s probably tactless to get naked in a house before even the down payment.”

Stiles’ smirk was completely unrepentant when he said, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not known for my tact then, isn’t it?”

He shouted with laughter as Derek chased him up the stairs, the bright sound of it echoing loudly all around their soon-to-be home, and for once there were no grouchy neighbors to complain.