#like surely the TV companies should pay more tax to cover that

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e2: of mouse and man

episode summary: brain needs money to build a perpetual answering machine to occupy everyone in the world for long enough for him to take over. to do that, he needs an absurd amount of money, so he decides to get a job in an office!

and then fake a nondairy creamer accident that turned him into a mouse, because as we all know, brain has to take the most dramatic path he possibly can in life, or he dies.

the rundown:

we open with pinky showing off his ass.

PRODUCED BY PETER HASTINGS. i assume that means the episode, and not the ass. the ass was initially produced by pinky’s parents and then helped along by the warner brothers’ dietary experts for their. mouse actors.

brain isn’t feeling it right now.

instead, as he plucks a rib from the lab’s anatomical model of a human being, and uses it to unpick his cage, he angsts - WRITTEN BY PETER HASTINGS - he angsts over the Dark Side Of Man, that has built war machines and pollution spilling factories and

VOICEMAIL.

😱

as pinky continues to stick his ass out (though onlyfans wouldn’t be launched for another twenty one years) brain runs through his latest plan, which, of course, involves voicemail.

look at those wiggles. this is a rough draft episode.

anyway brain intends to reroute all telephone conversations into his confusing, recursive, voicemail service that, he claims, will keep the human race occupied for “at least seventy two hours.”

“more than enough time for a well prepared mouse to seize control of the planet.”

“i see! so all we need now is a well prepared mouse.”

I???????

HOLY FUCK

brain is unhappy. i am not surprised.

“i am a well prepared mouse, pinky.”

“oh. well. there you are, then.”

unfortunately this plan comes with the pitfall that it will cost.... one million, six hundred and fourteen thousand dollars. which is a lot of money, or, as pinky puts it, “a lot of money!”

as brain wonders about how to raise these funds (”without running for congress”) pinky pinkys off to watch some tv.

HAVE YOU BEEN INJURED IN AN ON THE JOB ACCIDENT

YOU MAY BE ENTITLED TO HUNDREDS, THOUSANDS, EVEN ONE MILLION SIX HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN COMPENSATION

LENNY PARVIK GOT ME TWO HUNDRED AND ELEVEN DOLLARS

EVEN THOUGH I’M NOW NINETY PERCENT FUDGE, IT’S OKAY BECAUSE LENNY PARVIK GOT ME ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTY TWO DOLLARS SIXTEEN CENTS AND SOME CHANGE

<LOUD, INCREDIBLY DISTRESSED CRYING>

hm.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?“

“i think so, brain, but i get all clammy inside a tent.”

anyway so brain’s new plan is to get a job, stage a

HIDEOUS ACCIDENT

and then sue them for one million, six hundred and fourteen thousand dollars in workers compensation.

this episode also has a lot of faces. god, but these mice are so bloody cute. youtube has not yet been invented, but one day it will be, and all brain has to do is sit in front of a camera and nom some corn and go O:O with his face, and everyone will be crying over him within minutes.

it’s so sad that he doesn’t know that.

but for now, he has a job interview to go to. good luck, brain! can’t be any worse than that time allsaints forgot about me and the manager acted like it was my fault.

“impressive credentials. you’re certainly qualified. are you married?”

“oh, yes, i have a lovely wife and two beautiful young children.”

“oh that’s too bad. we’re looking for someone who has no life. thank you.”

as family man walks off, dejected, in comes a completely unsuspicious fellow looking for an honest living honest living, just like in rent the musical.

his arm is acting up, a bit, but it’s fine.

“very impressive resume. princeton, harvard, six years in the industry-- tell me, mr brain, what are your long term career goals?”

“i plan on taking over the world.”

“you have drive! i like that! but confidentially, taking over the world is my job, hahahaha.”

”yes. haha. ha.”

”now. brass tax - are you married?”

“i do have a roommate. but he’s very busy with his own activities.”

HA HA HOO HOO HOO

<muah>

HAHA

“but. one more thing. about your head. isn’t it rather small?”

“no. not for my race.”

“no! no, of course not-- and your people are such... good... cooks... with their tiny heads, uh. please. excuse me for one second.”

“carol! send everyone else home! i got myself a minority person!”

BRUH I?!??!?!?!?!

anyway. brain gets the job.

“mr brain! welcome to the world of re-reinsurance!”

he’s delighted.

back at the labs, he plots his untimely demise at the hands of re-reinsurance,

stating the accident “could be bluffed by altering the mollecular matrix through a substrate platform of microwaves.”

pinky’s response to this is “look brain, i made a choo-choo.”

“oh, and me without my video camera!”

in simpler terms, he explains to pinky that he will stage an accident, “utilising the microwave oven and the non-dairy powdered creamer.”

“because”, to pinky’s apparent horror, “nobody really knows how a microwave works.”

“but why the powdered creamer, brain?”

“nobody knows how that works either.”

(and then, i guess, there’s a scene where some guys jump him on the train for some reason,

i’m only putting it here because this guy is like “oh, you’re funny, you’re a regular gallagher”

and brain’s like “you think gallagher is funny?”

):

anyway then he ties the dude into a pretzel and throws him off the train.

bonk. it adds nothing, but it’s very funny.)

“this is your cubicle right here. if you need any office supplies, ask the office manager and she should have them over in two or three months.”

it’s brain’s first day at work! his boss reads him the company policy on

vacations, personal phone calls,

and sexual harassment.

“don’t worry about it. you’re safe if you avoid all contact with other humans.”

“my goal in life.”

as brain unpacks the things that pinky has packed for his “home away from home,

awwwww.

his nosy cubicle neighbour inquires about brain’s “pet mouse,”

elaborating that he keeps mice! haha! to feed to his pet snake!

to be fair this is also me around snake people. more understandable in brain’s case, being that he is, actually, a mouse, and i am a human person who may be slightly obsessed with tiney small flofys.

;u;

(they play tennis on their lunch break and brain sets him on fire, so it’s not too bad.)

upon his return from the office, pinky, who has dolled himself up to the nines, presents brain with a Yummy Dinner of Food Pellets With Food Pellets.

i will say i think it’s really cute how this show keeps pushing the narrative that pinky just really, really wants to be an old timey housewife. he just spends his time watching i love lucy (when Fish TV isn’t on) and stuff like that and he’s just obsessed with the idea of dusting something alluringly but ineffectively and making brain little dinners.

and it’s so fucking cute!!! what??? it’s adorable. as soon as they get the world pinky better get a little dollhouse kitchen room with lime green everything and a functioning oven.

“please, pinky. i’ve had a very tough day.”

“oh, you have? you’ve had a tough day?”

“what about my day, brain? we always hear about your day, but what about mine?!”

“DO YOU EVER ASK WHAT I DID TODAY???!”

“very well pinky. what did you do today?”

“i don’t remember.”

“anything?”

“not a thing.”

“well, now i know how american gladiator stays on the air.”

the next day, at work, brain is vexed by the fact that nobody has refilled the coffee machine.

“sorry. that’s my fault. hey, you’re cute.”

“you know what they say. big ears. big earmuffs.”

.....okay.

unfortunately brain’s mechanical arm chooses now to malfunction.

she’s into it?

brain maintains that it was a mistake, and he doesn’t find her attractive at all, because brain knows how to talk to women.

she is no longer into it.

horrified by his semi-accidental fuckboy behaviour, brain heads out as quickly as he can, only to be immediately called into his boss’ office.

despite brain’s claims that “the young lady appears to have misunderstood me,” which i’m sure will hold up well on twitter,

mr boss man reveals that he has done some fact checking, and there is no record of brain attending harvard or princeton.

“oh.”

he is given the ultimatum that he either produce his diplomas, or HIS CAREER IN RE-REINSURANCE IS OH OH OVER!!!

very sad!

looks like it’s time to stage a workplace related accident.

he pours the creamer everywhere, discards his suit, and runs up to plonk himself merrily into the pile.

ahem.

HELP, HELP. A TERRIBLE  OCCUPATIONAL DISASTER. I’VE BEEN MAIMED BY AN ON THE JOB ACCIDENT REQUIRING MASSIVE WORKERS’ COMPENSATION.

as others in the office crowd around to look, brain makes his dramatic reveal.

“i’ve been turned into a mouse!”

COLLECTIVE GASP.

obviously mr boss man won’t pay that kind of money.

so, as brain emphatically tells him, I’LL SEE YOU IN COURT.

conclusion:

as the goodfeathers sit on justice’s head, and bitch about jury duty,

The Man From Washinton asserts that brain’s claim that he is a mouse is preposterous.

good thing brain has xrays to prove it! they “clearly” define his “mouse skeleton!” wait a sec and he’ll grab them.

oh shit! where they go?

(”there really is only one conclusion here.” says a local doctor.

“this man is a mouse.”

“then i’m afraid the only conclusion here, doctor,”

“is that you have never seen these.”

“i trust this might keep you quiet.”

“it might.”)

(BRUH/???????????????) (if boss man is out here bribing people with lingerie, he could have tried that way before this got to court.)

egged on by the lack of evidence in Mouse Corner, christopher walken produces the artefacts from brain’s office cubicle.

“i ask you, when was the last time you heard of a mouse winning a bowling trophy?”

“ugh. pinky.”

“yes?”

turns out pinky is here because “they’re not covering this on court tv,” but does advise brain that “it’s a good thing they didn’t find the mechanical suit, eh, brain?”

oh shit.

“pinky, you must go to the office and get that suit from the kitchen closet. do you understand? if they find that we’re sunk.”

“oh! brain! you want me to help!”

off he goes!

fall mouse. bonk.

(he sneaks into the snack delivery.)

(poit.)

(unfortunately, he gets delivered straight to the vending machine.)

(”narf? ):”)

“well. yes. i had noticed his... small, furry head, but i assumed that was normal for his people.”

“and what people would that be.”

“i’m not sure? i think they’re from europe?? maybe france.”

“the size of my head and whether i was a man before the accident is not the question, here. the fact is i am now a mouse.”

(meanwhile, at fiero:

“try the fruit rollups. they’re yummy.”

“oh, i am doing well. poit.”)

“so how exactly did the accident happen, mr brain?”

“some bizarre thing involving a microwave oven? i don’t know exactly-- no one really knows how they work.”

“incorrect! in the oven, a magnetron produces microwaves which cause water molecules to align, and reverse alignment, producing heat, and not mice.”

“the accident also involved a.... nondairy powdered creamer.”

“ah. um. oh.”

(meanwhile,

pinky attempts to drive.)

“mr brain, in your experience with other mice, are they intelligent?”

“no.”

“exactly. your honour, i contend that mr brain is simply too intelligent to be a mouse.”

oh dear.

(meanwhile,

pinky tries not to get hit by a car.)

“but-- no, noo, i’m not intelligent.”

“i am a simpleton! yes. like any average mouse!”

“um. narf.”

that’s mean, brain, considering the aforementioned narf is on his way to save your gay little ass right now, but whatever.

“so you would have no problem with me saying that albert einstien was a champion surfer.”

“what-- i mean, no.”

“or that the temperature of the sun is a comfortable seventy degrees fahrenheight.”

“i wouldn’t know--”

“or that the fermi-dirac’s distribution function is a soup kitchen?”

“that’s preposterous! your honour, the fermi-dirac's function is, for any system of identical fermions in equilibrium,”

“the probability that a quantum state of energy -- E -- is occupied!”

“my word, man! don’t you know your quantum statistics!”

heck.

bonk.

“oh, blunder.”

and what a blunder indeed! the judge decides to rule that brain’s intelligence proves that he is “not a mouse, and that being the basis for your claim, i now dismiss charges against fiero and company.”

“.....very well. i’ll go now.”

“i’m afraid not. i find you guilty of fraud, perjury, and appearing naked in a public place. take him away.”

good thing they have human man sized handcuffs for this human man! brain looks incredibly perturbed, despite the fact he could probably swim in them. and also that he... kind of lives in a prison anyway, if you think about it. oh, cool, can’t wait to evade that cage so i can go live in my other cage.

hm.

luckily, pinky arrives to save us all from that particular moral quandry.

“i got the suit, brain! i got it!”

“pinky--”

the police attempt to intercept pinky,

so he knocks them over. hoo hoo.

brain falls over,

attempts to enter the suit through the shoe,

and is squoshed for his crimes.

faced with a veritable army of police, at this point,

pinky activates the emergency protocol,

says blue lives scatter,

and fucks off out of the courthouse.

we stan a legend.

unfortunately brain got a fair few ouchies during his prison break, so pinky bandages him up. it’s very cute.

anyway, i’m giving this one to brain, on account there were, yknow, a fair few ways that could have been mitigated. fiero fucked him over, though, so i’ll give him that.

brain: 5 ½ pinky: 6 ½ outside influence: 10

 “egad, brain! brilliant!”

“but isn’t that horribly illegal?”

“............yes.”

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Fourteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 14: Thankful

Chapter Summary: Steve spends the holiday with his grumpy friend. His grumpy friend realizes something.

Chapter Word Count: 2867

AN: ‘Why does this start at Halloween and end around Thanksgiving’ well unfortunately Thanksgiving was when I always imagined a certain part taking place and I don’t want to stretch this out for another two months. It feels right to have this here, chapter-wise. So without further ado… (ノ✧ ω ✧)ノ*✲ﾟ*

    “Wow.”

“Huh.” Steve put his controller down and changed the channel . “I thought you’d be more upset.”

“You wrecked me in the most convoluted way possible,” I said. “I can’t be mad. That was stupid impressive.”

“Thanks,” he said and sat back. “And thanks again for saving me from Tony’s costume party.”

“I didn’t save you; I just invited you to my party first.”

Steve looked around the room. “Do two people count as a party?”

“I’m sorry; where can I find the requirements to call something a party? Are they online? Maybe there’s a National Party Registry where I can–”

Steve shoved some popcorn at my face and I smacked him away, but I still had to dig some of it out of my shirt. Steve was, at least, decent enough to get the ones off the floor.

“Point being– there’s food, there’s fun, and if you don’t like it you can go and I will party by myself,” I said and turned my nose up at him.

“Touchy,” Steve chuckled and ate the pieces he had dropped. Well, the floor was clean enough. He added, “I am having fun though. Thank you.”

“Hm.”

“All I said was ‘thank you.’”

“Yeah, too sappy; I’d rather you go back to dumping popcorn down my shirt.”

His face turned red. Too easy. “I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Nope.”

I had the popcorn in my hand and, well, if life gave you kernels… “Oh, okay then. Here,” I said and held it out to him.

He, of course, recoiled. “No; you eat it.”

“I don’t want it,” I said and kept going. He scooted away like I had cooties, so I scooted closer until he was up against the arm of the couch. Short of leaping off of it he wasn’t getting away from me. “Come on; eat it.”

“No!” he said and shielded his face with his arm.

“Why not? If it didn’t go down my shirt then it must be perfectly fine,” I said and leaned over him.

Steve apparently disagreed, and we tussled. The fact that we pushed back and forth meant he was seriously holding back but it was funny, especially when I managed to drop the popcorn on him and he snapped. Gently, but I ended up on my back on the couch with him pressing down on my arms. Again, lightly, but he was making real sure I couldn’t get that popcorn back (wherever it had gone).

“You are such a wuss,” I said, still laughing.

“And you’re gross,” he chuckled.

“Hey.” I frowned. “I shower. I shower more often than I clean the floor.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean you were dirty, I–” He stared down at me, like he was realizing where I was for the first time, and he jerked away off of me– and the couch– like I was fire.

It happened so quickly I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. “Are you okay?” I asked and slowly sat up.

“Are you?”

That didn’t clarify why he wouldn’t even look at me. “I’m okay. Why–” Oh. Was that it? “You didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about?”

He looked blank for a second, but then– “Yes. That.” He sat back down on the other end (on the very, very edge) of the couch. “I forget sometimes, how…strong I am.”

He still sounded weird in a way that made me wonder if I was missing something, but I sat up and gave him the space he apparently needed. Even watching TV felt awkward. At least, at first, until an unfortunately familiar image flashed on the screen. Awkward mood or not didn’t stop me from gagging when that stupid fucking turkey commercial came on.

“Not a fan of Thanksgiving?” Steve asked dryly as I raced to change the channel.

“I like Thanksgiving fine, I just hate that fucking nightmare mascot,” I said and sat back, safe now with c-level horror nonsense. “Also I’m tired of holidays creeping on other holidays. Stay in your month.”

Steve laughed a little and as much as I hated it, I had to be thankful (ugh) to that awful commercial for breaking the weird tension. “Thanksgiving is okay though,” I said. “Terrible history, but I get two days off and an excuse to gorge myself. What’s not to like about that?”

“Are you going anywhere?”

“Nah. There’s a place I usually order from. I’ll get some good food, put something on the TV, and just dick around for the day.”

He smiled and nodded, like that was exactly what he had expected from me. Well, I never claimed to be super unpredictable. “What are you going to do for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked genuinely troubled. “Everybody else is pretty busy this year. I’ll probably just…do what I normally do. Where do you order from?”

Interesting. My plans were something I liked but it figured he wouldn’t be thrilled with that– he liked people, and being around people. I wasn’t the best company…but I was people. And Steve, somehow, always managed to be an exception to my rule.

“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t you come over?”

He looked a little stunned. “No, that’s– it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will,” I said. “But we hang out all the time and Thanksgiving is boring, if for no reason other than traveling is kind of a pain in the ass.” Admittedly I hadn’t really cared before the one time I’d needed to get to Manhattan, but I doubted I would ever forgive Macy’s for that nightmare. And Steve had to get around there sometimes, so maybe he found it annoying too. “We can order a lot of food together and just sit and eat and do what we’re doing now. And if Tony gets snide you can tell him you have plans.”

“I tend to make sure I do have plans,” he said and ran his hand through his hair. “Volunteering, mostly; there’s always something that needs to be done and I’ve got the time, so why not me? And it’s good, but maybe…” He looked up and stared at the wall like there was something worth considering. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have the day off.”

I was maybe too happy about winning that little debate, but hey, at least I had won something that night. Later, after having insisted that he could see himself out while I was too drowsy to argue, (the jerk), I tried to cement our plans. In my own way.

“Hey Steve?”

He stopped. I leaned on the arm of the couch to stretch out my back. “If anybody asks why you're not at a soup kitchen or any of that bullshit,” I said, “Just tell ‘em that you know someone who was gonna be real lonely at Thanksgiving and begged you for company. Clinging, crocodile tears– the works.”

It got a smile and a chuckle out of him, but he also looked mildly offended. He gave me a wry smile and said, “Soup kitchens aren’t bullshit.”

“They’re not,” I agreed. “But the idea that you don’t deserve a day off with the rest of us is. You do a lot, Steve. If you want to take care of anyone else, you have to take care of yourself too.”

He looked hesitant. I cleared my throat. “And there’s no better way to do that than to slip into a food coma.”

He laughed– so loud it surprised us both. His smile was easier when he said, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’ll get to test it out, actually,” I said. “I’ll bring a menu around sometime this week and as soon as we sort out food I’ll place the order.”

“Sounds great.” He slung his pack over his shoulder. “Good night.”

~

Picking the food was easy enough. Mostly. Steve thought he was more boring than he actually was and I made a mental note of some of the things he looked at the weirdest that I knew he would end up stealing if I gave him a chance. He also wanted to figure out how much the food would be so he could give me the money right away, but when he insisted on calculating out the ratio of portion sizes to price I checked my watch and gave up.

“Oh my god; if you make me do this much math on my break I’m going to make you pay for all of it,” I groaned into my hand.

“Okay!” Steve replied, blatantly unbothered by the idea.

I opened my mouth to argue but then I thought about the energy it would take, and the smug look currently on his face, and how much did I really care about any of this? “Fine,” I said, to his obvious surprise. “I’m hosting, and actually getting the food, so you can take care of paying for it. We’ll call it ‘The Asshole Tax.’”

“We’re not calling it that,” he said, but he was sort of smiling. Because he was totally okay with being an asshole. So I ripped a page out of my notebook, wrote down the total, titled it ‘Asshole Tax,’ and dropped it in front of him as I stood to pack and leave.

“That is a lot of food,” he said, frowning at the menu as I stowed it away. “Maybe I should go get it too.”

“Do you want to explain to some random cashier why you’re picking up food under my name?” I asked. He frowned further and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. In the meantime–” I shook my drink and took a sip. “Enjoy your boba.”

He scowled at me but pulled his drink closer. Just before I left I heard him mutter, “Just because I like it doesn’t mean it isn’t weird.”

I rolled my eyes and walked away, already mentally doubling at least two of the dishes.

~

The weeks passed like I was living the last month of high school all over again, but finally the day came. Steve came over about noon and I gave his jeans the stink-eye, until he brought his backpack around and partially pulled out a pair of drawstring pants.

“Do I fit the dress code now?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said and let him in. “I’m not going to be the only one in my PJs, but I’m also not dressing up.”

“I know better than to ask that,” he said and narrowly dodged a swat from the spoon I had been using to stir the gravy. Pro of going with traditional food: this place made it so good. Con of going with traditional food: there was some reheating involved. Ultimately it was all worth it though. I couldn’t wait to hear what Steve thought; I really hoped he didn’t regret this.

“Go get changed,” I said and waved it threateningly. “Food’s almost all ready.”

He grinned. “Okay, but, uh…” He leaned forward. I moved back, not sure why he was suddenly so close, until he reached in and…wiped some gravy off my cheek.

“You might want to watch out for karma,” he said with that stupid fucking smile.

I chased him to the bathroom but he was too quick to slam the door on my face. I stalked back to the food and, manners be damned, started loading up my plate first. He came back in comfy pants and a too-tight t-shirt that I immediately snapped the sleeve of.

“Hey!” he said and bumped into my side.

“I’m not the one buying shirts tight enough to double as rubber bands,” I said. I gestured at the food spread out across all available counter space. “Eat up. Cold stuff is still in the fridge and snack stuff is on the coffee table.”

“This looks great.” He hugged me with one arm. “Thanks for getting it.”

“Yeah yeah, get your stuff and sit down,” I said and took my food over to my little corner of the couch. I had a blanket for me and a blanket for Steve, a selection of nonsense to watch on the TV that was not parade-related, and a view of grey skies from a warm and brightly-lit apartment.

It was going to be a good day.

I even got a little vindication when I went back to the fridge to get something to drink and saw Steve very intensely eyeing a casserole he had pooh-poohed on the menu when we were picking things out. He glanced at me, glanced at the food, and I took in the sight for several seconds before telling him, “Fine, you can have half,” and before I even finished the sentence he had scooped his entire portion right onto his plate. It took up almost the whole surface. “You should trust me by now when I tell you things are good.”

“I wish I could agree with that,” he said and gave me a disapproving look.

“Hey, you said pick a lunch place and I took you to a burger joint,” I said innocently. “Sure it had a weird name, but the food was good, right?”

“You knew what you were doing,” he said, staring down at me.

I lasted about two seconds before I broke and laughed.

And the day was good. Steve was someone I could hang out with without fear, and I had only been half-joking about the dress code– because he brought clothes to lounge in, I didn’t feel self-conscious in mine. And the way he looked so enviously at my unicorn slippers even gave me an idea for a good holiday gift.

And since we were hanging out on the couch, it was natural that we gravitated closer together. Natural, but when I finally noticed just how close we were, I froze up a little. Was it okay for me to–

“You can lean back if you want,” he said.

“Really?” I asked and eyed his chest.

“I’m more comfortable than I look,” he said. “Or so I’ve been told. By Natasha. And Maria. And Bruce. Even Thor, one time.”

Well, if that was an okay thing to do then I was going to do it. I felt…probably more excited than I should have, but I figured it was just nice to be so comfortable with another human being. I didn’t know if I ever had felt like this before.

But I played it cool. “Hm,” I said and lay back. He was warm, firm, and yes, surprisingly comfortable. I felt a little thrill of anxiety when he wrapped his arm around my stomach, but it was just for a moment, and then I was able to relax into him. “I can see how people say that.” I felt so good. “You’re pretty cozy.”

“An excellent commendation,” he said. I sighed, perfectly content, and shut my eyes.

~

I woke up to darkness, with only the light of the TV.

Steve shifted suddenly behind me and I jerked away, ready to apologize, when I saw his eyes were shut tight, and his motions were short and twitchy. He mumbled nonsense but his face furrowed in anguish.

“Steve.” I shook his shoulder. “Steve!”

He didn’t wake up right away. Tears actually started spilling from his eyes and at the sight of that I panicked and shook harder. “Steve!”

His eyes snapped open and he jerked up and grabbed my shoulders. It didn’t hurt but I couldn’t move while he took in his surroundings. He gasped but didn’t say anything, though he did loosen his hands so he could put them to his eyes. I gently wrapped my arms around him while he rode out the shockwaves, and soon enough he put his arms around me. “I got you, Steve; it’s okay,” I whispered and rubbed his back. He clung to me and we sat just like that for a little while, until Steve’s short breathing evened out and he was able to take a deep breath.

Even still, he was reluctant to let go. “You wanna hear a secret?” I asked him, not intending to let him go until he was ready.

“Sure,” he said weakly. But he relaxed and stayed right where he was.

I cleared my throat and admitted, “I think I like hugs.”

He chuckled. “The resident miser? Likes hugs?”

“I know. You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Also, sorry if I suck at them; I’m not exactly practiced.”

“I think you’re just fine. But I’m not well-practiced either,” he said. He pressed his face into my shoulder and my stomach did a somersault. It felt so good; I wanted to wrap him up in my arms forever and–

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no.

“Maybe we should practice more.” He pulled away, smiling, but that smile hit me in a different spot. Harder. “Together.”

Fucking hell. “That sounds nice,” I said before Impulse Control could kick me in the face. Because it did sound nice. It sounded so nice it would have made him uncomfortable by how much I loved the idea. I loved the idea.

I loved him.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Catherynne Valente schools her racist neighbors about the asylum seekers in their midst

[Author Catherynne Valente (previously) posted this outstanding rant to her Facebook page; I asked her permission to repost it here so it would have somewhere to live outside of the zuckerverse and she graciously gave her permission -Cory]

I live in Portland, Maine. We have recently had an influx of African asylum seekers and the city has been scrambling to find shelter and support for them.

Cue NextDoor, that wretched hive of scum and villainy. Every day someone would post some new hateful jingoistic nonsense about how horrible these people are and that they need to get out of 'Merica and leave it to the 'Mericans.

I try not to get involved on NextDoor because I live in a small community and I have to see these people at the ferry dock. But I got mad. And I got involved. And it got long.

So I decided to share it with you. Please feel free to share it with others who might need to hear it.

You know, I was going to let this thread go by without saying anything. It's not worth it, I said to myself. These people aren't going to listen. But y'all can't stop being hateful and I'm tired of getting notifications that someone else is being and absolute bell-end about their fellow man on NextDoor.

So buckle up.

First of all, "they" aren't illegal. They are asylum seekers. It is legal in every nation on the planet to seek asylum, and they are abiding by the law. Just like our friend with his grandfather's naturalization certificate at the top of the thread (which is from 1928, by the bloody way, predating the Hart-Cellar Act of 1965 which completely overhauled the process to enter this country, specifically to make it harder for minorities because human beings will keep a rock as a pet but cannot think of other human beings as brothers unless they look *exactly* like them. And even then). THEY NEED HELP BECAUSE THEY ARE FOLLOWING THE LAW. The law forbids them to work for 6 months after entry. If they were illegal, they would just start working one of the many menial jobs that have no problem hiring underpaid immigrant labor.

Second, these people are not hurting you. In any way. I would be shocked if anyone yelling about those terrible no good very bad fellow human beings had ever met even one of them. Many of them are educated and skilled. Many of them are Francophones, making Maine a wonderful place for them to reestablish themselves, as there are still pockets of French speakers in this state. Every single study shows that immigrants and asylum seekers are a net benefit to the economy, that they get off of social services much faster than homegrown welfare recipients, that they become entrepreneurs and hard workers. And yet you hate them before they even arrive.

And if you want to talk to me about how some of them are Muslim, and might bring their naughty repressive Muslim African culture into wonderful, flawless liberal America, let me tell you about Alabama. And Georgia. And Ohio. And North Carolina. And the Supreme Court. The people who are right now actively seeking to curtail my rights to my own body, to prevent me from voting for my own equal representation, to empower the companies that may employ me over myself, are as American as the flag, fireworks, and goddamned apple pie. These are individual people with no institutional power, and you have no idea what they think or believe about anything because you don't know them. The people with institutional power are hurting us all. Right now. And I don't see any angry threads on Next Door about it.

OMG BUT MY TAXES.

I. Pay. Taxes. Too. And my taxes go to support an aging Maine population, to give them healthcare, food stamps, housing subsidies, social security, and myriad other avenues of support. Support that will almost certainly not be available to me when I am old, because the very generation receiving my tax dollars has repeatedly voted for the downsizing and existential dissolution of the programs they enjoy. Yet I still pay. I pay for you. Knowing I will get nothing in return.

But you know what really pisses me off about where my tax dollars go? It isn't that they support an aging conservative population with the free time to post endless hateful multi-exclamation point capslocked screeds on the Internet. And it goddamn well isn't that 86-150 families (god, how few human beings it takes to turn on the histrionics) who have been through the most heinous and unimaginable cruelty, violence, and persecution might settle here in this state where all the young people actually born here are fleeing at rates that would snap your neck.

My tax dollars and your tax dollars and all of our tax dollars are going to build a megayacht dock in Portland so that more uber-rich assholes have a place to park their massive pleasure boats, boats that cost more than those 86-150 families could ever need.

My tax dollars and your tax dollars and all of our tax dollars are going to subsidize developers who smell fresh meat in our city so they can build more luxury condos none of us can afford (and again, the sale price of three or four of them on the West End would cover everything these families need), condos that will sit empty for all but two weeks a year so that a few families can look at the water and stuff themselves with lobster butter while complaining about live music to the point that our festivals get cancelled so they can go to bed earlier, murmuring as they drift off to a dreamland none of us can make a down payment on that Portland used to be so much better in the old days.

My tax dollars and your tax dollars and all of our tax dollars have, for eight years, gone toward blocking bills the people voted for from becoming law, fighting in the courts not to give Mainers medicare or raise our minimum wage or let us smoke in peace or have a little more choice in voting. Our money has gone to subsidizing red states that hate New England like fire. Our money has gone to making sure the megayacht-parking lobster butter bathers pay less in taxes than a barista on Munjoy Hill. And NONE of you are complaining about that.

Nor do I see any single thread looking to help the homeless vets and addicts you're all suddenly so conveniently concerned about, no matter how bad the winter gets. Pro tip: do not use veterans as strawmen when you argue that the poor deserve nothing and America is somehow full. A massive percentage of vets are immigrants themselves, and they are out there protecting your right to be a total dick on the internet.

Somehow, for some strange reason, the only time people seem to take to their keyboards to complain about where their taxes are going is when they might just end up helping someone less fortunate. When they help people more fortunate? Crickets.

This state is aging. We need a new tax base or all those senior citizens will suffer, because their services will be cut without people my age to pay for them. Young people are not moving here. They're just vacationing here. If you feel like freezing to death some idle winter without social services still yelling Don't Tread On Me, be my guest. I would prefer to live in a lively multicultural city full of art, music, food, theater, and more services being used by people who need them to survive than those who just want to pay a little less taxes and have a convenient place to park their yachts.

The hate in this thread is repulsive. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. I would imagine some of you consider yourselves Christian, even while you spit on those Christ commanded you to shelter and treat even as you would him. Nice work. There is not one of you who has not taken help from another human being at some point in your lives, even if it's only in the form of using the roads and electricity and infrastructure we all pay for collectively to make yourselves a success. Filling these people's bellies costs us so much less than filling the insatiable gullets of the vulture capitalists that have made quite the little feast of our city in the last decade. It's utterly pathetic that we must pay for the rich to harm us, but that rouses no protest, but this, THIS, these poor, desperate, hopeful people who have walked across a continent to get here, raises your rage to the breaking point.

You want to save a dollar by starving a poor man while handing over twenty to a rich one with a smile and a song.

That you would deny someone who has escaped hell on earth a blanket, a tv dinner, and a scrap of gym floor to sleep on doesn't make you a patriot. It makes you a bad person.

I said good day, sir.

Catherynne M. Valente

is a novelist; her latest book is

Mass Effect: Annihilation

.

https://boingboing.net/2019/06/18/nextdoor-is-terrible.html

[anemoyoucantgetridof-blog]

Albany GA Personal Injury Law

Personal Injury Lawyer Albany GA - understand what legal rights you have under the legislation as well as can merely explain them to you. But in the case of injury, time is not always in your corner. Also the best situation you can possibly imagine has a time limit connected to it and also even simple cases require documentation from the beginning.

Picking a Personal Injury Attorney in Albany GA

You need to pick the most effective lawyer. The one that understands the regulation the very best and one that has experience handling your kind of instance. You require to place even more effort into seeking an attorney than simply dialing a 1-800 number from a TV ad, or picking the lawyer with the largest advertisement in the telephone directory. Those things state even more about that attorney's marketing ability than their actual ability, knowledge and also experience.

The Best Way to Discover an Albany GA Lawyer is by Word of Mouth

Talk with individuals you know who have collaborated with lawyers before and also talk to those lawyers. Consult with any attorneys that you have dealt with in the past. Even if they do not manage personal injury they likely can lead you to an attorney that they recognize that does work in injury and that they really feel does their work well. In speaking with all these different lawyers you might see that a specific name is mentioned by a few attorneys. That name is probably worth going after.

You can also inspect the documents of legal representatives you talk with through organizations like the BBB. You can likewise discover sites with customer evaluations of attorneys and see whether on not a specific legal representative is on good terms with their clients as well as if customers like their job.

Picking an Injury Lawyer in Albany Georgia

When you trim down your checklist to the names, and firms of the attorneys that you intend to be stood for by you now have to establish an appointment. Numerous attorneys will offer you your very first visit without charging you, but others may bill a consulting cost. Paying that charge is your choice, however you must meet greater than one attorney to obtain a feel for exactly how strong your case is. Also look for out each attorney's history in managing instances like your own as well as a suggestion of how much time taking care of the situation would certainly take. Bear in mind to ask about price and how payment would be handled.

Lot of times the outcome of a case can be decided by the initiative you exert looking for the most qualified lawyer to represent you.

Do a great deal of research and ask tough, but crucial questions and you will certainly find a wonderful injury attorney

If you or someone near to you has actually experienced a major personal injury then you could be eligible for compensation. There are laws in position to safeguard your rights. With that said in mind, you would certainly be smart to search for accident lawyers to assist represent you. Currently keep in mind as you search that there are lots of misconceptions in regard to these attorneys. Do not let them keep you from obtaining the help you require.

When most people think of employing personal injury attorneys, they imagine lawyers resting at their desk counting money. Because that's the stereotype-lawyers desire money and also they want lots of it. And certain, that might be the case for some PI lawyers. Yet certainly not all of them. By doing a bit of study, you make certain to find throughout a lawyer who appreciates greater than just money. A lawyer that has actually developed his method on treating people the method he 'd want to be dealt with. And to make points less complicated on you, he'll give a free preliminary examination. This will certainly aid build depend on, as well as make sure you have a case worth progressing on.

Terrified you're going to employ an attorney and also never be able to get a hold of him? When you work with reliable personal injury attorneys, you don't need to deal with the bureaucracy. There's no evading phone calls using assistants and also voicemails. They'll make themselves readily available to you to answer all your inquiries and problems. After all, your PI lawyer resembles your guardian, right?

Concern of shedding work should not keep you from trying to get payment. Your company can't hold it against you. You're acting well within your rights by contacting accident lawyers. So do not let scare techniques and scare tactics cheat you out of your rightful negotiation.

The probabilities of you reaching a fair negotiation on your own are exceptionally reduced. You might too go play the lottery while you go to it. The fact is, if you assume somebody else must be held accountable for your injury, you require to obtain a legal representative on your side. Only then can you be certain that you'll reach the settlement you require.

Significant scenarios require field of expertise. So no, not just any attorney will do. You require to be looking for personal injury lawyers that specialize in Albany GA cases such as yours. You don't desire a jack of all professions. You want the very best lawyer in respect to your certain issue. So as you check out legal representatives, maintain this in mind.

When you locate the right attorney, you will certainly have someone on-call all set to assist you at a moment's notification. So obtain the settlement you should have and also start undergoing accident lawyers today.

It's obvious that accident attorneys have a negative credibility in our culture. We have all heard the stereotypes as well as jokes about those "rescue chasing" legal representatives: that we make the most of at risk people for our own personal gain, that we go after rescues looking for our next cash advance, and that we will do any dubious or questionable action to get paid.

These stereotypes are not just false, yet they are damaging to our legal system. The legal system is what people need to resort to in their time of demand. As well as reality be informed, the substantial majority of injury attorneys help their customers obtain the settlement they are entitled to. People that are injured in a cars and truck crash, accident, or harmed by a faulty product look to crash legal representatives daily.

Additionally, the adverse stereotypes originate from legal representative promotions themselves. A number of these advertisements make it seem that lawyers are cash starving and that they persuade individuals that they require an attorney to recuperate millions of dollars in also the most pedestrian of injury crash situations. Additionally, it appears the customers are evaluated by their negotiation quantity, as well as not as a person. Nonetheless, these money starving attorneys are the minority. A lot of injury attorneys do not treat their clients as meal tickets.

Not just do Albany GA injury lawyers help their clients in their time of demand, however their job makes sure that people live in a safe environment as well as society. Negligent corporations and also individuals are mindful that they may be needed to pay civil problems if they make a decision not to act reasonably and also safely. Personal injury lawyers are also responsible for making sure that neighborhood, state, and also government safety and security regulations as well as guidelines exist to safeguard the general public at large. These regulations were established in reaction to damaging irresponsible behavior as well as they ensure that people remain healthy as well as risk-free when making use of products that are made as well as produced to be safe.

I can see why people believe the worst concerning personal injury attorneys because unfavorable stereotypes are all over them. Definitely the legal representatives do not assist themselves and all it takes is "one negative apple ruins the entire bunch." However, while you usually learn about the immoral attorney that swiped their customer's cash in the news, you nearly NEVER become aware of any of the favorable points attorneys do for their clients-including functioning pro bono for triggers the lawyers rely on or minimizing their fees to make certain that their clients get all the justice they deserve. While it holds true that some injury lawyers are greedy as well as self-seeking, the huge majority really appreciate their customer's legal rights and are strong supporters for their clients.

Obviously what is commonly overlooked is that the key press behind these negative stereotypes are corporations and also insurance provider that intend to use these bad public images to their advantage. They try to say that injury lawyers and their customers are the antagonists attempting to gain from a claim lottery, as well as the attorneys are trying to take advantage of their customer's miseries. Nevertheless, it takes a great deal of effort and also dedication to do what we do and lots of attorneys chose to work with injured individuals due to the fact that they want to assist people.

There might be a time in everybody's life when they are confronted with a scenario that they will certainly take into consideration working with a personal injury lawyer. Remember that there are lots of injury attorneys available that will certainly fight difficult for you. You are not, and should not be just one more number or income for your lawyers.You are a private with your very own concerns as well as really hopes concerning your case. You deserve to be treated with respect by an injury lawyer who appreciates having you as an Albany GA client.

One of the most waited for thing after any type of accident is the case of compensation you make to cover the loss - obviously just in cases where it applies. The procedure entailing the claim is usually taxing and also a great deal of lawsuits occur against readjusting the quantity of the case, which is even decreased to an extent. If you desire to stay clear of these situations, it is better to designate a personal injury attorney who would certainly take the duty on your behalf to recover the quantity of insurance claim as high as feasible.

An accident attorney may help you as soon as possible after an accident has actually happened on an emergency basis. Normally, the lawyer might charge virtually 40% of what is recuperated from the insurance claim or you can pay the attorney a fee that is been chosen between the two of you, ahead of time. There is a circumstance where you can seek for the professional aid of a lawyer yet as a civil service which is not suggested to be charged in any way but still the lawyer charges, a much lower quantity from individuals that come for aid.

So before you select any kind of attorney to take your situation, be prepared with a set of questions which would pick the destiny of designating the lawyer. If you do not receive satisfactory answers, you might deny the individual and call for an additional attorney for interview.

Points to check from an Albany GA accident lawyer

You need to inquire about the accreditation and also accomplishments of the injury attorney as well as provide the attorney with all the details you have concerning the accident or personal injury. These two areas have to be plainly scrutinized prior to designating the individual.

As you are the person that would certainly be keeping the lawyer for the task, you have the flexibility of asking concern in regard to the reliability of the personal injury attorney. According to the feedback given by the attorney, you require to choose whether he is qualified enough to get you the case. In case of an incorrect choice there will certainly be a lot of included sufferings apart from the fees of the lawyer that you will need to compensate.

You can check the number of instances the injury attorney has actually so far been connected with as well as the number of positive results amongst them. If the response declares, you would have the ability to establish some trust on your attorney.

You need to discuss on a note, the details of the accident that happened. The day and time of the case, the place, even the name of the lane it happened, traffic condition at that point of time, name of the close-by roads as well as intersections, any type of kind of drugs you were related to, whether you had alcohol on that particular day, the last time you had visited your medical professional, the factor of your check out and the responses of the medical professional offered to you. Most notably you must state the type of problem you are facing owing to the injury, level of the injury, degree of discomfort, medical professionals advice and few a lot more relevant details. Give this to your attorney, to make sure that he can tell you if he can make good of your instance.

[fearfilledvirgil]

Ivity and Anx: part eighteen

Summary: Virgil and Roman hate each other to the core of their beings, but both become friends with a new stranger via the Sarrahas Project. Virgil takes to Creativity as well as Roman does to Anxiety, but they don’t know the true identity of the ones they’re slowing falling for.

Warnings: swearing, graphic panic attack, talk of parental abuse, talk of attempt at murder, body image issues, implied eating disorder, nighmares, 

Word count: 10,614

Pairing: Slowburn Prinxiety

A/N: this is literally a behemoth but i didn’t feel like splitting it up like we did with seventeen. you are welcome. this is very very long and very very emotionally taxing. taglist under the cut. warning: exteme panic attack in this section

masterlist

taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @lovecrazyjennybear @the-incedible-sulk @hexdream18243 @crows-with-hats @monikastec @definenormalifyoucan @i-am-absolute-fandom-trash @applecannibal @cats-with-blogs @bubblycricket @witchcraft--and--wizardry @bunnyartie @quietlypondering @elusivefalsehoods @hghrules @royallyanxious @quietwords-loudthoughts @squishynonbinarytwink @sortablue @illogical-anxieties @savingshae @a-fander-named-skittles @thelowlysatsuma @ughthatsprettygay @im-so-infinitesimal @certifiedtrashxx @karmels-stuff @sanders-sides-trash-blog @musicqueen1239 @the-average-loner @nicological1 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @surleytemple​ @nervous-collection @asapmykeyy-blog @super-magical-wizard @arandompasserby @serenitythepanther @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas

Roman shut the door as he kicked off his shoes after walking out to Patton’s car with him to make sure he got in alright. As he did so, he couldn’t help but smile up at Virgil, who still stood waiting in the kitchen. Pride was bubbling in his chest. His best friend and Virgil got along better than he could’ve hoped. His mind was about to call Virgil his ‘good friend’, but something didn’t sit right with that. Virgil was more than that, but Roman didn’t really know what was more about him.

Virgil put down his still charging phone, sighed, and followed Roman to the living room before flopping on the couch. “That was exhausting.”

“What was?” Roman asked, sitting next to the lanky boy.

“The whole day. I think even without getting Extreme Dad Mode, as you call it, it would’ve been tiring. He’s just this huge ball of energy that doesn’t stop.” Despite saying how exhausted he was, there was a fond smile tugging on Virgil’s lips.

“He’s an amazing friend. And I’m really glad you two got along.” Roman splayed himself out on the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV.

“Honestly, Princey? I’m glad we did too.” A yawn left Virgil’s mouth, which made Roman avert his gaze from the dark TV to his company.

“Tired?” He asked to make Virgil look over at him instead of down at the floor.

“I guess so.” Virgil turned his head and promptly died on the inside. Roman’s legs were spread in a mansplanting position, arms draping over the back of the couch, and his neck was exposed from being turned toward Virgil. He looked absolutely amazing handsome, and Virgil cursed himself for blushing. Roman’s chest, arms, neck, and crotch were just too much for Virgil’s heart to handle.

“Why don’t we get you to bed? It’s been a long day for the both of us.” Roman noticed the small blush on Virgil’s face, but didn’t shift his position. The brush of color on Virgil was actually very adorable.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Virgil stood up rather quickly. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Roman was Roman. Even though he isn't as straight as Virgil once thought, he still was way out of Virgil’s league. Not to mention the fact that their friendship is still very uncertain. Feelings would get in the way of that.

Roman got up and put down the TV controller. He couldn’t help but think that Virgil was just checking him out, and it honestly made him feel a weird bubbling emotion in his gut. Virgil looked quite exquisite when he was blushing, yes, and even more so when Roman was the cause. Princey shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. After they stopped to grab their phones in the kitchen, Roman lead Virgil back into his older brother’s old room. “I put your clothes in the closet. And the PJs you borrowed yesterday are in there too.”

“Thanks.” Virgil looked around for a moment, remembering this as the room he was supposed to sleep in the night prior. He gave a small grin to Roman, one meant to just be a quick twitch upwards of the lips. Instead, it turned into a genuinely fond smile. It was still small, but it made Roman return one of his own. Not wanting to overstay his bounds in his guest’s room, he walked out, closing the door behind him to give Virgil some privacy.

Virgil sighed, moving toward the unmade bed to sit for a few minutes. I fucking hate that I’m a charity case here. He started to think as he surveyed the grey and pink room. At least it’s somewhere I feel safe. Virgil took a deep breath, scrunching some of the soft pink coloured comforter. In an attempt to prevent his mind from spiraling farther, he pushed himself off the grey framed bed toward the closet. When he opened the grey sliding door, he groaned.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me…” Virgil quickly changed into the PJs waiting for him nonetheless, wincing slightly when the shirt went over his bandaged wound. Once that was done, he found his way to outside of Roman’s bedroom. He knocked, companying that with a small, “Ivity?”

“One second!” A moment later Roman opened the door, clad in a large faded salmon t-shirt and the same bottoms as the night before. “What’s up, Jack Scarrington?”

“Where did all the clothes in there come from?” Virgil crossed his arms in an attempt to seem more threatening.

“The thrift store.” Roman wasn’t even fazed by the threatening stance of Virgil. He probably should have been, but that’s beside the point.

“No shit. I knew that much,” Virgil gave him a half glare, but he wasn’t able to give a full one. Roman just looked a bit too adorable with his tired eyes and oversized shirt. “I looked at a few of them there. How did they get here?”

“I picked them up. You needed more than three shirts and two pants.” Roman scratched the back of his head, which made Virgil internally curse himself again. Roman needed to stop.

“I’m not a charity case, Princey.” Virgil hardened his glare, fueled by the insufferable fact that a tired Roman was a cute Roman.

“I know you’re not. If you want you can teach me how to make breakfast tomorrow to return the favor.” Roman cracked a small smile, which in turn cracked a small piece off of Virgil’s glare.

“Hardly the same thing.”

“Virgil, I wanted to make sure you had enough clothes for a little bit. And it was Patton’s suggestion. He was worried about it too.”

Virgil just shook his head and removed his gaze from Roman. “Just… don’t make a habit out of it. I’m not staying here for you to pay for everything.”

“I know that. If it bugs you that much we can work something out later. Right now I think both of us would like to head to bed.” Roman let loose a yawn mid-sentence that he couldn’t suppress for added effect.

“Alright,” Virgil shifted his weight before looking back at Roman. “Talk to you in the morning, Prince.”

“Sleep well, Sanders.” Roman used Virgil’s last name as well before closing the door to his bedroom.

Virgil walked back into the room he was sleeping in, but decided to look in the dresser drawers out of curiosity and the fact that he wasn’t that tired yet. There wasn’t a lot of items of interest: an iPhone charger, an old baseball card, a puka shell necklace that had broken, and three differing sized but identical green and brown bracelets. However, there was one thing that caught his attention. An older pair of grey headphones, ones that appeared to be noise cancelling.

Hoping that Roman’s brother wouldn’t mind, Virgil grabbed the headphones–and the charger–and sat on the bed again. He plugged both of them into his phone, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth when the charger worked. Then, Virgil put on a Fall Out Boy song to test how well the headphones worked. He was pleasantly surprised to know that they sounded like they were brand new. He quickly pulled up YouTube and Roman’s new song. He wanted to listen to it properly. He definitely didn’t just want to listen to Roman’s voice. Obviously not.

Getting comfortable under the covers, Virgil pressed play on the video. As he listened to the song and the pure emotion that was poured into it, his eyes fluttered shut. For some reason, after the first play through, Virgil decided to play it on a loop. After about the fourth time through, he started to drift into a peaceful sleep with a smile on his face.

Virgil woke up from the sun shining in his face, Psychic still softly playing through the headphones that had long since shifted off his head. Groaning, he rolled over and grabbed his phone to check the time. It was fairly early, just before eight in the morning. This caused Virgil to groan again and throw his arm over his eyes.

Why so fucking early? Virgil lamented to himself. No person in their right mind is up this fucking early. Unfortunately nothing Virgil tried would allow himself to fall back asleep. After about half an hour of trying he threw the covers off in frustration.

He stumbled out of the bedroom and was greeted by the smell of coffee. Roman, who had noticeably wet hair, was grabbing a mug out of the cabinet when Virgil walked in. “Good morning, gothlight!” Virgil vaguely groaned in answer. “Not a morning person I take it. Perhaps a cup of coffee will help,” Roman was answered in a groan again, but this one sounded like conformation. “I’ll pour you one too.”

Virgil flopped in a chair as Roman poured two cups of coffee. He brought them over to the table before returning to the kitchen to pull out some vanilla creamer, milk and sugar since he wasn’t sure how Virgil prefered to drink his coffee. Roman set all three items down on the table before settling into a seat himself.

Roman poured some of the vanilla creamer in his coffee as Virgil drank his black. The duo stayed silent while they enjoyed their morning drinks. Virgil stood and poured himself another cup followed by a third shortly after.

The third cup seemed to wake Virgil up enough to speak. “‘Morning, Ivity.”

“He does speak.” Roman teased with a grin on his face.

Virgil just flipped him off. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Not sure.”

“Well think about it. I’m going to go change out of these baggy pants.”

“Alright.”

Roman watched Virgil leave. He stood and looked in the fridge and pantry for what would be easy. He decided on making waffles from a box mix, as it was convenient and easy. When Virgil returned with slightly better smelling breath, Roman held up the box.

“I was thinking we could do waffles.”

“Ya know we could do them from scratch right?”

“I’m aware, but I want this to be something I can do if I need to.”

“Alright. Let me see that.”

He took the box from the older boy and read what they needed. Virgil tasked Roman with getting the waffle iron out as well as a bowl and hand mixer. While Roman was gathering those items, Virgil grabbed three eggs and the oil out. Step by step Virgil walked Roman through how to make the batter and pour them into the waffle iron.

The first one came out a little burnt. “It’s okay, Creativity. Now you know not as long.”

Roman tried again. It took him four more tries before one came out correctly. He was so excited when it did he bounced up and down like Patton. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle, a blush almost overtaking his cheeks as well as his ears. After he was sure Roman wouldn’t burn anything, he got to work on cutting up some fruit to have with it.

Once breakfast was complete, the two ate in silence. Roman–once again–didn’t finish his plate, but it was a few more bites than the day before. Virgil counted it as a victory. During clean up, the two decided to just have a calm relaxing day watching Disney movies after the excitement of the day prior. Some time later, Virgil felt his phone vibrate with Logan’s specific rhythm during a playful debate with Roman over which character in Moana was the best.  

Virgil removed his gaze from Roman to look down at his phone. The smile he wore dropped from his face in an instant, all the color draining away as well. It was after five in the evening. Fuck fuck shit. Fuck! Virgil’s mind started as his eyes widened. I’m going to get killed. I have to go back. But he might kill me if I go back. Fuck. Virgil didn’t check the text. All he could think about was fear, paralyzing fear. His body was going into overdrive, panic spreading from his heart to every inch of his body

“Virgil? Virgil, are you okay?” Roman asked with his words dripping with concern. He didn’t understand why Virgil suddenly looked so pale, or why he was now shaking.

Virgil shook his head, mind and mouth not cooperating, despite the name repeat slicing through his muddling thoughts. He scrambled to move from where he was sitting on the couch, standing quickly and pocketing his phone. He was looking frantically from side to side, as if wondering where something was. It was painfully clear that whatever was causing the dark boy to panic was worse than his hospital fear.

“Hey, hey. Stop for a second. Please?” Roman stood almost as quickly as Virgil did, worry clear on his face. Virgil stopped in his frantic movements, but his body still shook violently. It looked as though he was holding back sobs. “Talk to me. I want to try and help you.”

“I gotta go- I gotta go home,” The only emotion in Virgil’s voice were clear fear. Panic. The dark eyes as big as saucers threatened to drop a few tears. “I’ve been gone for, for too long.”

“Virgil, why don’t we breathe together? Then you can explain what is going on.” Roman took two half steps toward the shaking boy in an attempt to get closer.

“No, no time. I gotta- gotta, I gotta- go,” Virgil breathed half of a shaky breath before forcing it out in his next breathy words, “He’s gonna be, he’s gonna... upset.”

“You came here with a cut from a knife from your house, Virgil. There is no way in hell I’m going to let you go back there. I don’t know what else he might do and I’m not going to lose you. You mean too much to me to let that happen.” Roman took another step forward, trying his best not to agitate the panicking boy more than he already was.

Tears fell down Virgil’s cheek, which made the boy break out of his staring daze for Roman. He didn’t know if they were from fear at what his father might do, or from joy at hearing Roman say he meant a lot to him. Without much of a choice, Virgil’s unsteady legs gave out from underneath him, throwing him into Roman’s arms. Roman stiffened at the contact, but tried to hold Virgil up anyways.

He’s going to know you’ve eaten too much. You should have gone back to purging after you’ve eaten. Roman, you fucking idiot! All the hard work he put into helping you he’ll see has gone to waste. You’re not thin. Nothing but a flabby excuse of a boy. No muscles or abs, and he’s going to feel all of your rolls because of that. Those cookies that Patton made? And all the food Virgil cooked? It didn’t help any of this.

After several moments of those thoughts as Virgil shook in his arms, Roman realized something. Virgil was panicking to the extreme, and probably didn’t even have a fleeting thought about his body type. Right now, Virgil was probably worried for himself. Roman lowered Virgil to the ground, sitting himself and the panicking one down. Roman’s back was against the couch while Virgil was collapsed on his lap.

“I’m not going to let you get hurt, Virgil. Not as long as there’s anything I can do about it.” Roman tried to reassure, but Virgil kept shaking his head violently.

A particularly violent sob pushed itself out of Virgil’s mouth. At this point, the boy was in pieces. He was sobbing, shaking, crying, with fear amplifying all his senses into flight mode. He had so much adrenaline in his heart that he felt as though he were dying. Thoughts bounced around his head so quickly that he couldn’t latch onto one for long enough to expand it. Instead, several half-formed thoughts started to stutter out of Virgil’s mouth with little to no explanation.

“P-punish….punishment will be worse. Need-ne-need to go- to go home. Thr-three, three days gone and, and, an-an-and he’ll.. he’ll…” Roman opened his mouth to say something of comfort, but Virgil continued to stutter things out.

“I-I got, I got so, so scared. I moved but, but, but would’ve got- gotten hurt worse.. just a deep cut on arm.” Virgil placed his hand on Roman’s chest, jabbing at it harder than he thought he was. His mind was swarmed with panic, his eyes with tears, that he didn’t realize just what he was doing.

Roman resorted to letting Virgil spew his words. He keep his own breathing in the rhythm that Virgil taught him, just in case the younger was watching his breath as he pounded his finger into his chest. There also was the reason that Roman himself had started to freak out, but Virgil took more precedence.

“A-aim-aiming for my f-fu-fuck-ucking chest, Prin-Princey,” Virgil sobbed again. He stopped the movement of his hand and grabbed Roman’s shirt instead before burying his face in it as if he were hiding. “He was, he was try-trying to k-kill-kill me. I turned a-an-and put my arms, my arms up and that’s, that’s the fucking only reason it was my arm and not my heart. I pushed, I pushed h-im and ra-ran, ran.. He’s going to be so fucking pissed that I pushed him.” Virgil pushed the words out, choking on some and stuttering, while others he talked too fast on. He was still shaking, so much, as the fear he felt pushed him to tell Roman everything.

Roman almost stopped breathing at the shock that he felt rush through his body upon processing the information. He was also even more scared for his friend than he was before. No one should have to be attacked like that, even more so in their own home. The fact that Virgil was more worried about his father being upset for being pushed than for his own life spoke volumes to the kind of abuse Virgil went through.

“Fuck him,” Roman said coldly, causing Virgil to look at him in surprise. Roman was surprised at how calm he sounded considering he was terrified for his friend. “I’m definitely not letting you go back there now. You’ll be safe here. He tried to kill you Virgil; he’s.. he’s worse than toxic, worse than abusive….” Roman caused himself to stop his rant short when he noticed that the younger boy was still shaking. Violently might he add.

Virgil didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could push more words out of his mouth, but he needed to. For Roman. He needed to let Roman know that he couldn’t just say ‘screw my dad!’ like some preteen runaway who comes back home for dinner. The next attempt at his talking came out in a weak mumble, which peaked Roman’s concern again.

“Hey…” He said softer as he gently pulled Virgil more onto his lap. “Breathe with me, Virge. We’re both going to calm down okay? Now, in for four. You’re doing great. Hold for seven. And now out for eight.”

Virgil struggled to follow the breathing for the first few times. His heartbeat was still rampant, and the frequent sobs kept him from breathing properly. Roman kept encouraging him and counting out the breaths despite this. Even with that, it took several minutes before Virgil could take in a full breath instead of only half of one. Roman was patient though, rubbing the other’s back and breathing with him. He cooed and shushed him frequently, sometimes saying small “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s. At one point, Roman began singing a soft song in Spanish that seemed to help calm Virgil down some more. Roman was still full of fear for his friend, but he was able to rein it back in during the breathing exercise and the attempts at comfort.

“I will never let him hurt you again, Virgil.” Roman said with full volume after the worst of the shaking had passed. “I swear to you as a Prince. He’ll have to go through me first. You’re safe here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Princey.” Virgil’s voice was incredibly small, but at the very least he wasn’t stuttering anymore. “That’s why I have to go back. Not for me. Never for me. He’ll come… He’ll come after you and hurt you. I can’t let him hurt you…. You mean too much to me. He’ll hurt you to get back at me, and I’d never forgive myself for that.”

“He won’t hurt me. And he won’t hurt you either.”

“You don’t know that, damn it!” Virgil yelled, pushing himself slightly off Roman. The shaking was coming back and his voice was getting deeper as the panic became worse.

Roman didn’t flinch when the other raised his voice but he was confused as to why his voice lowered over an octave. “Yes I do. Because you’re not going back there for him to find out who to go after. He just… pulled a knife on you. I highly doubt he cares enough to find out who your friends are. He won’t know where to start looking for you.”

“He’ll find out! He always figures things out. He’s going to come here and hurt you if I don’t go home.” Virgil’s breath was becoming scattered again. It was clear it was getting harder and harder to get breaths in.

“Virgil, keep breathing. I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. So is Patton and Logan. Both are just a call away, and I know both would want to keep you safe no matter what.” Roman pulled the younger back onto his chest. Virgil did so with no resistance.

“He almost hurt Logan,” Virgil mumbled into Roman’s chest. “He… he didn’t because I... I let him do whatever he wanted to me without leaving to get help. He was going to hurt Logan. He found out, and he was going to hurt him. I have to.. I have to save you too. You don’t deserve it, you don’t. You don’t.”

“And you’re saying you do? Because you don’t, Virgil,” Roman ever so slightly tightened his grip on the boy in his arms. “And you never will.”

Several moments of silence passed, the only sound in the living room being their breathing and the occasional vibration of a phone. Roman continued to hold Virgil in his arms until his breathing started to even. It was a blessing, but also a curse. That meant that Virgil would soon not want to be cuddling with him, which was a sad thought.

“Virgil?” The boy in question lifted his head to look at Roman with a hum of confirmation. “Did it trigger you when you had to use the kitchen knife to cut the… whatever you cut up?”

The silence he received was almost confirmation enough. “I mean, at the beginning…” Virgil trailed off again, his words slow and sloppy on his tongue. His eyes were starting to droop, as if he was beginning to have a hard time with keeping them open.

“Virgil, do I have permission to carry you to bed?” The elder asked concerned for the now tired boy in his arms. He was met with a low hum which he interpreted as a ‘yes.’

Roman very gently picked the young emo in his arms. He couldn’t help but notice how easy that was. It was clear that Virgil was even more skinny than he looked, which only made Roman worry more. On the walk from the living room to his older brother’s old bedroom, Virgil snuggled close to Roman before falling asleep. Gently Roman sat on the bed and laid Virgil down, covering him up with the comforter, hoping the weight from it would act as a little bit of security.

After about fifteen minutes of Virgil’s even breathing and occasional snore, Roman carefully removed himself from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping boy. He quietly padded out of the room, closing the door most of the way before walking back into the living room. Roman picked up his phone, determination clear in his mind. Logan had to know about what happened to Virgil, and Roman needed to know if his life had been threatened before.

Once he opened his phone he realized he didn’t have Logan’s number. Knowing how important it was to get a hold of him, Roman sent a quick text to Patton.

Prince Roman: Hey Pat. Could I have Logan’s number? It’s important that I talk to him.

Pappy Padre Patton: Sure thing kiddo!

Roman was putting the number in his contacts when another text came in.

Pappy Padre Patton: Is everything ok? Is it about my dark strange son?

Prince Roman: No. Everything is not ok. I’ll explain it to you after I talk to Logan. Or maybe Logan can explain it. I’m not entirely sure if I can say it more than once.

Pappy Padre Patton: If you want me to come over I will!

Prince Roman: Let me make the call first. I’ll let you know. Thanks Pat.

Pappy Padre Patton: Of course!

Roman smiled at Patton’s text for a moment before going back into his contacts. His finger pushed the call button next to Logan’s number. Then he waited. When Roman got Logan’s voicemail he hung up frustrated. “I swear Calculator Watch if you don’t answer I will kick your ass.” He dialed it again.

This time the older boy answered on the final ring. “Hello?”

“Oh thank God. Logan. It’s Roman.”

“Salutations Roman. I apologize for not answering you the first time. I did not have your number.”

“It’s okay, but I’m really glad you answered.”

Logan noticed the slight urgency in Roman’s voice. “Is Virgil alright?”

“He’s safe here. But that’s what I want to talk to you about. I know you spoke to him the night he came here. What did he tell you?”

Roman could hear Logan walking. “Give me one moment,” Logan hurried down the hall to his room and walked in, closing the door and locking it. “My apologies again. I was in the common room and would rather not have everyone else hear.”

“Understandable.”

“He told me that he stood up to his father. He also told me that it happened really fast, or really slow. Which to me is a sign that his fight or flight was working at maximum capacity to keep him safe. And he told me that he turned and the blade went deeper in his arm.”

“That’s all he told you?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?”

“Because that’s not all that happened.”

Roman heard Logan sit on his bed by the springs squeaking slightly. “What do you mean?”

Roman took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Everything he told you happened, but he didn’t tell you why he turned.” He bit his lip, not sure how to continue.

“Roman?” Logan asked after a moment.

Okay Roman. You just gotta spit it out. Rip it off like a band aid. “He turned to avoid the knife going into his chest.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It was broken by a soft, “Holy fuck.”

“Understatement of the year there buddy.”

“How did you find out about this, Roman?”

“He told me in the middle of a panic attack. It’s was the worst one I’ve seen him have. Like he had a pretty bad one over the hospital thing but this was far worse. He told me that his father was trying to kill him. And that he had to go back today because he was gone too long. He also told me that his father tried to go after you for helping Virgil but he didn’t because Virgil let him do whatever he wanted to him instead. So he’s terrified of what his father will do to me. He can’t go back to that hell hole. I won’t let him.”

Roman took a deep breath. He didn’t expect to ramble quite as much but it was all things that needed to be said. Now he just had to wait to hear what Logan had to say. It took a few minutes, however, before the eldest spoke again.

“That son of a bitch needs to be in jail.”

“I know. But I don’t know if just me and Virgil will be quite enough. Logan, he needs you here too. You’re good at the logical talking. You could probably talk Virgil into going to the police better than Patton or I could. I know you just got to college and everything but this is really important.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but college can wait. Where’s Virgil now?”

“Sound asleep. He’s even snoring a little. I think the attack really wore him out.”

“They have a tendency to do that. I’ll get things together on my end here. I should be in town by tomorrow evening.”

“Thank you Logan. I need... to know something, though.”

“Alright?”

“Do you know if his father’s ever tried to hurt him like that before?”

Logan pondered for a moment, searching his mind for memories. “The worst I recall were a few deep cuts and a broken rib. But he’s never said anything of an actual attempt on his life.”

“Do… you think you could make a list of everything you recall Virgil coming to you with?”

“I have already compiled a list. With the dates and what I did to help fix them.”

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why does that not surprise me, Lo-CD?”

“I wouldn’t tease me over something so critical.”

“Touche. Honestly I’m just really glad that you kept notes. They will help give a timeline of how long others have known about the abuse as well as the messages between me and him.”

“I would write all of that down as well. When you two first starting speaking over messages, and any texts or calls you made to one another, that is.”

“That’ll take a long time, but I’ll get started. I’ll make notes of any important messages as well.” Roman found himself searching through old notebooks to find an empty one in his room shortly after he finished his sentence.

“The time spent will be well worth it, Roman.”

“I know it will be,” Roman walked back out into the living room with the notebook and pen in hand. “Would you do me one more thing?”

“I will do what I can.”

“Could you let Patton know what’s going on? I had to get your number from him but I don’t know if I can say it again. And Virgil trusts him. They had an amazing heart to heart yesterday.”

Logan hated going behind his honorary brother’s back, but knew Patton would worry himself sick if he didn’t get told. “I will. Let me gather the information I need here and I will give him a call.”

“Thank you, Logan. I honestly owe you one.”

“You’re keeping Virgil safe in my absence. We’re pretty even.”

“See you tomorrow, nerd.”

“Until then, prep.”

Roman chuckled at the nickname and hung up. He quickly got to work on finding dates and times of any phone calls they made as well as when they first started speaking. Unbeknownst to Roman, Logan was putting together all of the paperwork into a folder as well.

Logan opened his computer and began looking up flights. After he had searched for a while, calming himself down, he figured it would be a good time to call Patton. However, it took him a few moments with his finger hovering over the call button before he pressed it. His guilt for speaking about Virgil’s trauma was weighing heavily on him, but it was something Patton would find out eventually. It would be better if it was from someone close. Plus Patton would be extremely upset if he didn’t find out until the trial that was bound to happen.

Logan only had to wait a moment before the younger picked up. “Hey Lo!”

“Salutations Patton. How are you?”

“I’m alright! A little worried though. Roman text me asking for your number.”

“I am aware. He called me. We just got off the phone approximately fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh. I’m glad you two got to talk.”

“As am I. And that’s part of the reason I called you.”

“It is?” Patton sat up from laying on his bed. He knew that whatever Logan was going to say was important.

“Yes. I am flying back tomorrow. I’m looking for a flight now.”

“It’s something that bad?” Concern was clear in the younger’s voice.

“It’s that bad I’m afraid. Are you sitting?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. What I’m about to tell you is a lot. I know you have questions, but if you could refrain from asking any until I am finished it would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll try.”

“That is all I can ask of you,” Logan took a deep breath and stopped looking for flights. He pressed his fingers against his nose again, like he did whenever he was stressed. A migraine was forming, but he didn’t have time to go and take something right now. “Virgil had a very extreme anxiety attack a short while ago. He told Roman that his father tried to… to kill him,” He heard the distressed noise on the other end of the line. “He’s safe. Which is something good. He’s safe, and Roman isn’t going to let him return to that place,” Logan said that more for himself than for Patton, but he knew it benefited the other as well. “Virgil is very lucky that his fight or flight allowed him to process what was happening. I am going to speak with him in the morning about speaking to police.

“The… the years of abuse were bad enough, but the attempt on his life is too far. I can’t humor Virgil and let him stay silent anymore. His father needs to be behind bars where- where he cannot hurt Virgil again. I’ve already collected all the data I have, and Roman is doing the same. Making notes and copies of anything important. We will use this as evidence against his father.”

Patton was squeezing his pillow tightly to his chest. “He’s gone through so much. I assumed so when I saw some of his scars and… And with what you told me but I didn’t know just how bad it was. He… Virgil needs to be protected.”

“And he will. I truly believe that he will be safe with Roman. Just the protectiveness I heard in Roman’s voice is evidence enough of that, and I know you will help protect him as well. We all will.” The pain behind his eyes was getting to be too much. Logan stood on wobbly legs to retrieve his medicine from his personal bathroom.

“Darn right I will! I know I’m not.. I’m not quite as much help as you and Roman are, but I’m still going to help in any way I can.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at the boy who held his heart. “I believe you can help quite a bit Patton. You seem to have an affinity for calming those around you down. That will prove to be extremely useful for not only Virgil, but myself and Roman as well. Do not discredit you’re ability.”

Patton smiled wide at what the handsome boy told him. “You really think so?”

“I do. It’s going to be critical during the trial that will most likely happen. I’m aware Roman can have a slight temper and you need to help keep that in check.”

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“I have complete faith in you.”

Patton could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. “Let me know if you need me to pick you up from the airport.”

“I will. If not I will still call and let you know when I have landed.”

“Sounds good! Maybe we can all meet up when you get in town somewhere. Grab a lunch now that we all know each other better.”

“That sounds nice. I will leave planning that in your capable hands.”

Patton smiled at the older boy, even though he couldn’t see. “Is there anything you need me to do tonight?”

Logan thought for a moment. “I do not believe I can think of anything. Perhaps going to check on Roman would be beneficial. He sounded extremely stressed.”

“Will do! I’m glad you’re coming back home. I just wish it was for happier reasons, though.”

“As do I, Patton. I will speak with you tomorrow.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Lo!”

Neither boy wanted to hang up. They both enjoyed each other’s company too much, and it had been a little while since they spoke over the phone. Patton held his phone close like it was a lifeline. His whole body seemed to curve in on itself as he clutched the object tighter. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hard to hang it up. He would be able to speak to Logan tomorrow.

“Patton?” Logan’s voice cut through the father figure’s thoughts.

“Yeah, Lo?”

“As much I enjoy speaking with you, staying on the line will not allow you to help Roman.”

“You didn’t hang up either.”

There was a moment of silence. “Point well made. I’m going to hang up so you may go help your friend in his time of need. Good night, sweet Patton.”

Patton’s heart soared at the last sentence. “Goodnight, Lolo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed you will.”

It was still a few moments before Logan finally hung up. As soon as he did, Patton pulled up Roman’s text conversation. He sent a message before getting up from the bed to grab his shoes.

Pappy Padre Patton: I just got off the phone with Lo. I’ll be over soon.

Prince Roman: You don’t have to Pat.

Pappy Padre Patton: I want to! I wanna be there for you and our little emo. But right now I think you need me there.

Roman couldn’t help but smile at this best friend. He loved how Patton would always be there for him. He sent one more text.

Prince Roman: Drive safe. And text me when you get here. I don’t want the doorbell to wake up Virgil.

Pappy Padre Patton: Will do!

Roman breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t have to be alone after hearing such horrific things. Despite his inner demons taunting him for his weight, Roman went and grabbed himself a couple cookies and a glass of milk. Once he collected both, he sat on the couch and gently nibbled on the cookies while he waited for Patton to arrive. He needed them to help his stress level at the moment.

About 20 minutes later Roman’s phone lit up. He looked down and read the text.

Pappy Padre Patton: Just pulled up.

Again, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Gently moving the cookie plate over on the couch, Roman stood and went to unlock the door. As soon as he did he was enveloped in a hug by the younger boy. Roman gladly returned the hug. After a moment both let go and moved further inside of the house.

“How’s Virgil doing?” Patton asked as he slid his shoes off.

“He’s still sound asleep. Logan said his worse attacks leave him pretty tired.”

“Our poor kiddo. How are you doing? That had to be a hard thing to hear.”

“Honestly?” Roman asked as the two sat on the couch. “I’m feeling a lot. Anger. Worry. Protectiveness. No one should have to go through that. Especially by someone they call family.”

Patton nodded in agreement as he held Roman’s hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it. “Family is defined by bonds, not blood. But I’m here to help in anyway I can. I already told Logan and he told me that I’d be really good at helping keep everyone calm. Well more calm. I don’t think any of us can really be calm with this.”

“He’s right. You’ve always known how to help bring my emotions in. You helped Virgil yesterday. And I’m sure you’ve helped Logan too,” Roman smiled fondly at Patton. “I think you’re going to play a bigger part than you think.”

Patton leaned in and hugged Roman again. “I hope I can help. I know you and Lo are going to do more of the evidence side but if I can help at all with that I’d like to.”

Roman hugged his friend back. “Actually, if you want you can write down important dates and what happened when I find them. I started after I talked to Logan but I think with the two of us working it’d go faster.”

“Sure.”

Roman grabbed the notebook he was using and passed it over to Patton. The two got to work writing down any important information the two could think of. A couple hours passed before Patton’s stomach growled. Roman chuckled at it.

“Why don’t we take a break and get something to eat? I think we still have some pasta left over. Or we can get something else.” Roman suggested. He was willing to eat, which told him that he was stress eating, but he didn’t care.

“Pasta’s fine with me. That is, if there’s enough to leave Virgil some for whenever he wakes up.”

“Let’s go look.”

The two boys stand and go to the kitchen on slightly wobbly legs caused from sitting too long. Patton looked in the fridge and pulled out the leftovers, doing his signature ‘Leftovers Dance’ as he dished up two plates worth. Roman giggled along with his friends antics, giving a small gingle for the younger to prepare the plates to. As Patton put the rest in the fridge, Roman put Patton’s plate in the microwave first. Afterward, he leaning against the counter to wait for the ding It was nice to go back to some normalcy between the two. Since Virgil had stopped talking to him, Roman seemed lost in thought and more distant. Now that they’re talking again, that had completely gone away. Roman teased him in fun and it wasn’t random just to act normal. Any comebacks were naturally flowing.

The two continued on for a while longer like that. They were at peace with each other, but each holding the same paralyzing fear in the back of their minds. It bore down onto their shoulders, signifying its presence as they wrote down dates and times and screenshotted several conversations. It was hard, but it needed to be done to help that paralyzing fear drift away into nothingness.

A buzz of Patton’s phone alerted him that it was almost his curfew. Patton thought he would have had more time. He thought that he was able to see Virgil when he woke up, but he was wrong.

“I gotta go.” Patton mumbled, not looking up from his phone. He knew that Roman was staring at him, that much was clear. What he didn't know by fixing his gaze down on his phone, though, was that Roman held the most understanding eyes.

“Probably for the best? Not that I don’t love your company,” Roman tripped over his words for a second before regaining his train of thought. “Virgil is tricky, and if he knows you know about what happened, he’ll see that as a third person he has to protect. He might not go to the police if… if he has you to protect too.”

“But I can take care of myself pretty well! Years of foster care has-” Patton looked up to try to defend himself, but Roman carried on.

“And I’m not saying that you can’t! He thinks he has to protect me of all people. I have a bodyguard on speed dial, and I’m also not… bad in the physical department,” Roman didn’t mean to bring up his body, but it happened. Even if he wasn’t at his goal weight with his dream muscle mass, he was still a force to be reckoned with. “It’s all in his head. To him, he’s the only thing standing in the way of his dad hurting us. If he… if he steps aside, he thinks we’re done for.”

“That must tell a lot of how it is to live with Mr. Sanders,” Patton paused, swallowing in an attempt to curb the tears that wanted to well in his eyes. “What that man must do to him…”

“Which is why we are doing all this.” Roman gestured to the papers strewn about his kitchen table.

“For him.” The ginger smiled softly and slightly crooked.

“For him.” Roman echoed, pushing his chair out with a small squeak as he stood. Patton did the same, and the two took one step each to meet for a hug.

Patton hugs were the definition of comfort. That fact stood high and mighty whether the person receiving the hug was shorter or taller than him. Patton would wrap his hands around someone underneath their armpits and hold them with just the right amount of pressure. He would grip onto the cloth of the person’s shirt or jacket and smooth that in between his fingers as long as the hug lasted as a secondary soothing tactic. The thing that made Patton’s hugs so iconic, though, was that he would nuzzle into whoever he was hugging and sway slightly on his feet. He was usually on his tiptoes, but he made it work. Another thing that made Patton’s hugs so comfortable was the fact that he was heavier set, and that he had a warm body temperature. He was always warm, so that made hugs impart his body heat onto whoever he was hugging.

Roman hugs were the definition of safe. Since he had a tall stature, most of the people that he hugged were shorter than him. This information was vital, considering a few facts. When Roman would hug someone, he would put his strong arms around their shoulders, and always around their shoulders. One, or both, of his hands cupped the actual shoulder of the person, gripping slightly as if to say ‘I’m here; will protect you.’ It was either that, or one of his hands would be flat in between someone’s shoulder blades with his thumb rubbing over the fabric. The other hand would be on the back of the person’s neck. This was what Roman was doing for Patton at the moment, along with playing with some of Patton’s longer hairs near his neck. The last thing that Roman did in a hug was place his chin or his cheek on top of the person’s head. It was the final piece of the puzzle that made the embrace say ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’

Both of the friends enjoyed each other’s hugs immensely. Part of the reason that they hugged the way that they did was because they both modeled their usual hugging form after what the other liked. Their hugs grew together, just like their lives. Their hugging style also reflected their personalities in a way, which was mostly a coincidence. Roman and Patton went together. Their personalities matched each other beautifully. But most importantly to them, they fit perfectly in each other’s arms.

Roman just hoped that he could do that for Virgil.

Patton prayed that he could do that for Logan one day.

Both of the boys pulled away rather reluctantly. It was a joke among their friends that the two couldn’t keep their hands off each other, which was a cruel twisting on what was actually going on. Patton needed reassurance of Roman’s presence, which he delivered through touch. Roman needed the consistency of Patton, which he delivered through touch. They both helped with the other’s issues in different ways, but the touch was the most recognizable by others.

“Drive safely, okay?” Roman asked of Patton. The younger boy was still at the ends of his fingertips, as Roman had yet to remove his calloused hands from the other’s shoulders. “I love you, Pat.”

“I love you too, my friend.” The words flew from his mouth, sweet like honey but quick like a waterfall. They were usual, and they were lovely.

At that, Roman pulled Patton in for one more hug. This one was very short, almost comically so compared to the other longer one. Patton then proceeded to smile up at his taller friend. Roman returned the grin despite the fearful and sad emotions that the longer hug held.

Of course, after the course of the day, that long hug wasn’t just so the two could hold each other. It was a comforting tactic, and a way to show that the other was safe. It was holding their best friend in their arms for a while as the world crashed down around them. It was clutching onto the only consistency in their lives as fear of what to come rushed through them. It was desperate, it was fear, and it was them.

Patton left without another word. He helped Roman sort some of the papers, though, but neither boy spoke. Neither wanted to break the fragility of the air around them. After they stopped talking, the seriousness of the situation weighed down on them. It plunged into their hearts again as they sorted the papers. Roman didn’t have the emotional strength to go through talking about what has happened for the fourth time that day. Patton didn’t have the knowledge or confidence to bring up a piece of the puzzle. They would let the silence roam until Patton left and Virgil woke.

What the two didn’t know was as Patton was stepping over the threshold of the home, Virgil was stirring in his sleep. Stirring may not have been the most accurate term to describe it though. It was more along the lines of tossing, trashing, and fighting. Fighting, or fearing. Inside his slumber, memories were forcefully brought before his eyes.

The glint off of the knife. A cackle ringing in his ears. Menacing, creeping forward, with a spark of something in his eyes. Was it joy? Was it reward? Was it happiness? Virgil didn’t know. All he knew was that there was a knife coming toward his chest and plunging into it around his ribs again, and again, and again, and again, and suddenly he could breathe. His throat was closing, no, there was a strong hand on his throat. Pressing down, down, tighter on his neck to stop breathing. The knife, strong, sharp, and ready to hurt, being raised up, up, up again before it came down onto Virgil right on top of his heart–

A scream ripped itself out of Virgil’s throat, his body jolting awake and upright. Virgil frantically scanned the room, momentarily lost again. He was breathing heavily, but not quickly like during an attack. Virgil swallowed, hands gripping the grey sheets as he came back to the present. He was sweating as well. The dream had been too real, too vibrant for his liking. He felt as though he were in a movie and the main character just woke up in a cold sweat from a prophetic dream. Like in the Order of the Phoenix when Harry dreamt of Nagini killing Mr. Weasley.

But this wasn’t a prophetic dream. It was a nightmare constructed by events of the near past to torment Virgil’s mind.

He hadn’t been fully aware that he had screamed until Roman came bursting in through the door. He was breathing heavily, now more than the calming down Virgil. The one sitting in the bed knew how to handle nightmares. For the most part.

“Are you okay?” Roman frantically asked, still huffing, as he walked to the bed. He must have ran up the stairs.

“I’m fine. Just a nightmare, but did you carry me up the stairs?” Virgil was already rolling off the panic of the dream, so he skipped that part of his current thought process.

“What?” Roman was highly confused, and still highly concerned. He gently sat himself down on the bed.

“You just ran up the stairs. This bedroom is upstairs. I have no memory of walking up the stairs.” Virgil seemed to Roman oddly calm for someone who just woke up screaming. He personally had to take several hours, many hugs, and warm drinks to calm himself from nightmares where he woke up in a rush, or screaming.

“I carried you up here, yeah. You crashed after your panic attack. Virgil, you’re surprisingly light and I do strength training.” Roman gave Virgil a cautious look, like he was a stray cat that could run away at any moment.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Virgil tried to say, only for his voice to break in the middle of the sentence. No, he didn’t need to break down again. He was fine.

“Sorry, probably because of the events of the past three days.” It was the older’s turn to be more nonchalant.

“Fair... point.” Virgil took a deep breath, steadying out the last of his heavy breathing. Suddenly, the covers over his legs and most of his body became way too warm. He kicked them off the best he could without accidently kicking Roman. He was still sitting on the foot of the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asked after Virgil kicked off the comforter rather roughly.

“It was just a nightmare. Happens a lot.” Virgil settled on as he pulled on his knees to his chest. After a curious look from Roman, he elaborated, “I have them just about every night. ‘M lucky I didn’t have one last night.”

Roman sucked in a breath, “How do you... Get through them?”

“‘N’ayez pas peur de vos rêves, car il n’y a plus grand maux de dépenser plus orienté vers les temps.’ An old saying in our family.” Virgil calmed his breathing down fairly quickly, certainly much quicker than whenever he had a panic attack. His nightmares didn’t invoke panic attacks, but only because of that key information his mom told him.

“Lo siento mi amor, but I don’t speak whatever you just spoke.” Roman chuckled slightly, putting in a dash of his own language for ‘I’m sorry, my darling.’

“French. I’m fluent, n’ my mom was too. It means ‘Do not be afraid of your dreams, for there are bigger evils to spend more time facing,’” he paused, looking down before looking back up. “And Spanish. Really?”

“What! Mi Madre is Latina. She spoke Spanish to my older brother and I so that we could be bilingual like her.” Roman explained very casually.

Virgil was about to respond to Roman’s confession, but Roman’s phone rang before he could do so. Roman screwed his eyebrows together, confusion rushing through him. He shared a look with Virgil who had a very similar expression on his face.

Silently, Roman dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a moment to look at the caller ID, a flash of recognition flashing in his eyes. Virgil didn’t understand it, nor did he know if he wanted to. Something inside him told him to leave the room and give Roman peace with his phone call, but he didn’t. He stayed put, which was out of the ordinary for him. Virgil always left when someone was having a phone call. That or they left the room themself.

“Hello? This is Roman Prince.” Roman spoke into the phone that was now up against his ear.

“Princey, you are needed at the studio immediately. Don’t ignore my calls again.” The sharp voice of his manager rang through his ears.

“I’m sorry. I must have had my phone on silent.” Roman apologized as he maneuvered his body into a more comfortable and closed off sitting position.

“Don’t let it happen again. And bring your guitar.” Roman looked up at Virgil at that, hoping that the other heard that too. Roman never was asked to bring his old Gibson.

“Okay? I’ll be there in twenty. Is it-” Roman made a groan sound of sorts as he was cut off by the line going dead. He was going to ask if he could bring Virgil, but his manager was always straight to the point. She never allowed time for extra things or nonsensical sentences. It was interesting to say the least.

“What was that?” Virgil asked after several moments of silence between the two. Roman gave a tilt of his head, complete with another confused look.

“I think,” Roman began, holding out the ‘i’ in ‘think’ in a singsong type tone. “My manager just called me into the studio.”

Virgil gave a dry chuckle, facial expression stone again. “You’re kidding right?”

“Not at all,” Roman began to get up from the bed as he shrugged his shoulders. “This happens more frequently than you’d think.”

“But, Princey-” Virgil tried to start, getting out of the bed as well.

“Hey, this way you can see my studio! It was fun seeing Patton see it for the first time. Gold.” Roman interrupted, not really knowing he was doing so. He was caught in his head again as he left the room to go get ready.

“Princey!” Virgil groaned, mostly to himself at this point. He quickly followed Roman in the hallway, upon which he saw him still determinedly walking away.

“I wonder if your reaction will be like Patton’s. Only time will tell I guess. Either way I think it’ll be interesting.”

“Damn it, Roman, will you fucking stop a minute?!” Virgil yelled.

Roman stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Virgil, slight confusion on his face. “That is the first time you have said my name. All week.”

“Yeah. Well. I needed to get your attention. And calling you “Princey” wasn’t cutting it.” For some reason, Virgil’s cheeks heated up.

“Why did you wait so long?” Couriousty was clear in Roman’s tone.

Virgil looked at his feet, pondering the question for a minute. “I-I was scared I guess. Of what it meant. Names mean a lot and to use it meant something. I was scared of what that meant.”

Even though what Virgil said didn’t make the most sense, Roman understood what he was trying to say. Saying his name meant that Virgil was now a major part in Roman’s life. Where Patton started to use nicknames once he was close with the person as a sign of the relationship, Virgil was the opposite. He used nicknames so if he lost a person it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

“I get it, Virgil. But as much as it’ll pain you to know I’m not going anywhere.” There was a slight playful smile on Roman’s lips.

“But don’t you think it’ll ruin your image for me to be seen at the studio with you?”

“I don’t know if it will or not. Honestly I don’t care. I’m tired of not being able to be the real me. I’m forced to write songs a certain way and that’s not who I am. Not completely. So let them see me be with someone who doesn’t fit the ‘Princey’ stereotype.”

Virgil was dumbfounded. He never thought that Roman would be willing to give up his reputation. What’s even more surprising is Roman’s willing to give it up for him. “I-I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say… say you’ll come to the studio with me.”

“Alright.” Virgil said after a moment of deliberation.

“Great. Meet you back in the living room in ten? I need to change and get my stuff together.”

“Okay…”

Roman turned back around and walked to his room. Virgil returned to his room to change out of his sweat stained clothes. Even though he would stick out like a sore thumb, there was no reason for him to do it and reek of sweat at the same time. Once he was in a clean outfit, he stopped in the bathroom to steal some deodorant before walking down to the living room.

Roman walked down a couple minutes later, carrying a guitar case and a beat up old notebook. “Ready, Panic! At the Everywhere?”

“You already used that one.” Virgil fired back as he rolled his eye. The two walked out of the house and towards Roman’s car without further words, ready for a long and interesting night.

Roman pulled his car into the driveway, returning from recording Psychic in the studio, not really caring that it was his Ma’s spot to park. Virgil was leaning his head back against the seat in a feeble attempt to sleep, but looked up when he noticed they had stopped moving. A quick look at the stereo’s clock told him it was almost four in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt, Roman following suit.

The two dragged themselves from the car and up to the front door. It took Roman a couple of tries and a yawn to get the key in to unlock the door. He let Virgil in first before walking to the couch and throwing himself on it, not bothering to take his shoes off at the door. Virgil sat next to him and yawned.

“Why did that take so fucking long?” Virgil asked sleepily, rubbing at his face.

“Welcome to the life of a performer.” Roman answered as Virgil leaned into him.

He lazily, and quite unconsciously, wrapped his arms around the lanky boy. Virgil felt secure in his arms, but it felt different than the security he felt with Logan or Patton. It was almost if there was something more to the embrace. However, Virgil’s mind was so clouded with sleep he couldn’t put his finger on what was different.

Virgil relaxed into Roman even further, soon drifting off to sleep. Roman smiled and shifted carefully as to not wake up the sleeping one so the two could lay down flat. This meant that Virgil had to be slightly on top of Roman, but he didn’t mind. The astoundingly minimal weight was relaxing and grounding. After the rollercoaster of a day, it was just what Roman needed.

Within minutes with Virgil sound asleep in his arms, Roman fell into the deep world of dreams as well. The two were still sleeping soundly when three hours later the front door unlocked. Andrea, Roman’s Ma, walked through the threshold and held open the door for her wife Cinthia. Once Roman’s Madre was inside, Andrea locked the door behind her. When she turned around, she noticed Cinthia standing at the entrance to the living room and starring. When she moved forward herself, she saw the duo cuddled together on the couch sleeping. A happy smile spread across Cinthia’s lips, while a concerned gaze settled on Andrea’s. Roman hadn’t told them anything about anyone coming over, and this person certainly was not Patton.

Cinthia calmed Andrea with a light touch of her shoulder. Silently, Roman’s Madre pecked a kiss on her wife’s lips before taking one of the bags she carried in her hand again. Andrea took the second before she was pulled away by her wife. Both tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as they could as to not wake the two boys asleep in their living room.

next part

hello im back and im very tired but there probably isnt a beta reader in this world who i appricache more than @lovecrazyjennybear? like,,, she became my co-writer. what could be better than that? i love her. i love sleep. im really tired. its 1am. i wanna sleep. but yeah jen is amazing and did amazing stuff for this chapter. the entire logan and roman conversation was basically all her. yeah. shes awesome

[nataliesewell]

monster prom pop quiz results

I was bored, so I decided to try and record all the questions and answers in Monster Prom’s Stupidest Pop Quiz Ever(tm). It’s really likely I haven’t found them all, so I’ll come back and add to this from time to time.

The pop quiz consists of three questions; the first two go towards determining your highest stats at the beginning of the game, while the third chooses your possible prom date (this isn’t set in stone; you can still try to pursue a different character in the actual game). The order of the questions is randomized.

Other links: Vera Walkthrough

You can find the questions and their results under the cut!

stat questions

What is your spirit emoji?

a. Caucasian guy with a turban because fuck stereotypes. +CREATIVITY

b. Octopus emoji. Best animal on Earth. I know 5 mixed drinks, 3 drug cocktails, and 17 sex positions that involve one or several octupi. +FUN

c. Snowman, because that motherfucker is in the middle of a blizzard and he’s fuckin’ smiling. He doesn’t give a fuck about blizzards. And he has a kickass hat. +BOLD

It’s your chance to fix global warming. Go ahead!

a. Global warming isn’t real. I invented it, and now science is claiming authorship because science is a lame copycat with no original ideas. +CREATIVITY

b. Nah, the world is doomed. But I’ll start investing in ships and start a profitable business for the “soon to be covered by water” world. +WEALTH

c. It’s time to be a real hero: I’ll lead a mission to the sun in order to... invite the sun to the party of its life! We’ll have so many hilarious misadventures that the sun will eventually become... cooler. ;) +FUN

Be a visionary: what will the next big social media craze be?

a. Bull$hit: it’s Facebook, but each time someone shares news that isn’t supported by real facts, they’re taxed, and the money goes to the people exposed to that bullshit. +WEALTH

b. Greek Agoras: like literal Greek agoras re-instated in our cities. Places where philosophy and arts are discussed by the greater minds. That’s the social media I want to log into! +SMARTS

c. Rbert: from now on, a socially awkward guy named Robert will do everything he’s commanded to do through the app by its users! +CHARM

You wish you were raised by...

a. A mysterious old man who saved me from the streets in order to raise me as his disciple in the ancient ways of rad DJing! +FUN

b. A pack of wild wolves... who also happens to be tech moguls who own some of the most profitable companies of Silicon Valley. They would be kick-ass role models AND wild wolves! Sick! +WEALTH

c. A really progressive marriage between a kick-ass venomous snake and... actual fire. I love fire and I see no issue with being raised by it. +BOLD

You build a 100ft statue commemorating an event so that in 1000 years archaeologists can learn something about the people of our time. What does the statue represent?

a. That glorious instant when your friend stopped you from texting embarrassing stuff to your ex while hella drunk. +FUN

b. That mind-blowing twist in your favourite TV show that clearly changed the life of everyone forever, unlike all that boring stuff they show on the news. +CREATIVITY

c. Your least favourite political figure... being devoured by rabid rhinoceri... which are also covered in badass tattoos. +BOLD

Which is the coolest mythological creature?

a. The invisible hand of the free market. +WEALTH

b. A sphinx... who’s super turnt up and ready to party! And she raps all her riddles (she still kills you if you don’t answer them correctly... but she raps the riddles)! +FUN

c. This weird creature I drew when I was six and which is clearly super derivative from other mythological creatures... but it’s super cool and it’s my OC and my spirit animal, okay? +CREATIVITY

You’re elected president for a day. What’s the first law you pass?

a. You can deduct taxes by writing sonnets instead. Amount of taxes deducted are calculated based on the beauty of the sonnets. +CREATIVITY

b. Trivia fact: presidents don’t pass laws... so is this a trick question or are you just being an idiot? +SMARTS

c. One dollar bills will now include a picture of me and the inscription “Beware: Too Much Awesomeness.” My presidency might last a day, but my fame will last forever! +CHARM

A radioactive possum just bit you... what superpowers did you get?

a. The superpower of always choosing the right combination of emojis to get the desired reaction from all people: seducing my loved ones, burning my enemies, settling an argument, and even conveying complex emotional thoughts. +CHARM

b. Uh, probably rabies? I’d go to a hospital immediately. +SMARTS

c. The incredible power of writing fanfiction so compelling that the actual creators of the TV shows decide to go with my ideas and crazy ships. +CREATIVITY

School is outdated and lame. We need a new school subject asap!

a. Critical thought. I mean... damn, this country could really use a subject like that in schools. +SMARTS

b. Turning people into your puppets through emotional warfare and deception 101. +CHARM

c. How to correctly punch a crocodile without terrible consequences. +BOLD

If you had to have sex with animal... which animal would it be?

(You don’t get six answers; the three answers you get are randomized.)

a. A great white shark. I have to fuck an animal, let’s at least make it a story worth telling! +CHARM

b. A swan. They’re classy. Plus it reminds me of that myth of Leda and the Swan, so at least by bestiality standards it has a certain chic appeal. +CREATIVITY

c. A human being, because I’m the kind of douchebag who loves to find loopholes in stupid questions like this one. +SMARTS

d. A purebred horse. At least I can keep his semen and sell it. It’s worth a lot! Who said there was no silver lining to bestiality? +WEALTH

e. A dolphin. They’re the only other animal that fucks just for pleasure, so at least we can both do our best to have a good time, right? +FUN

f. No on can make me fuck an animal. If I fucked an animal, it’d be of my own free will. As a matter of fact, I already have fucked an animal, so the joke’s on you, pal. +BOLD

The coolest reality show would be...

a. Twelve experts on the various arts of seduction live in a house where they must face a common challenge: seducing a potato into marriage... somehow. +CHARM

b. Eight rich people fight in weekly challenges to see who’s the best at giving money to you. +WEALTH

c. People in various positions of power must face all sorts of questions relevant to their field, and if they fail, they lose their jobs... and society wins. +SMARTS

You get the chance to produce a movie. It’s based on...

a. The most influential Russian novelists of the XIX century... have gone nuts! They don’t remember anything about last night and now they can’t find the manuscript of The Brothers Karamazov; and Dostoyevsky has to deliver it TODAY! +FUN

b. Two cool guys walking away from rad explosions. And they don’t look at the explosions. THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE EXPLOSIONS! They reflect on life and love... AND IT IS SUPER DOPE AND KICK-ASS BECAUSE THEY DO SO WALKING AWAY FROM NEVER-ENDING EXPLOSIONS! +BOLD

c. Something about superheroes, but with a love triangle between a beauty yet somehow relatable girl (maybe she’s always stating she’s a mess?) and two of the super hot superheroes, which are also like vampires or pirates or both. Instant hit! +WEALTH

Democracy is just broken. What would be the best way of choosing the leaders of modern society?

a. Whoever can play the most heartbreaking violin solo wins. +CREATIVITY

b. You put all the candidates in an empty room... with a wild grizzly bear. Whoever kills the bear should be our president. If everyone dies, then it’s obvious: the bear should be our president. +BOLD

c. We create a reality show called “America’s Next Top President” where the candidates compete in all kinds of physical and mental challenges. Voter turnout would increase and we would turn a profit on it! +FUN

If you could put a curse on your worst enemy, what would it do?

a. I’d curse them to fall in love with a wonderful person and be happily married before they realize that all this time... their partner was a wild panther in disguise! Then the panther viciously devours my enemy. Classic! +BOLD

b. The curse of always meeting obnoxious people at parties who are super into new fad diets that feel the need to explain them in detail. +CHARM

c. You can’t rely on the effectiveness of a curse. I prefer to take care of my enemies the old-fashioned way: by exposing them to unsafe doses of radiation over the course of several years. +SMARTS

What would be the coolest prize you could find in your box of cereal?

a. A tiny piece of sharp metal, so every scoop will be full of thrill and danger! +BOLD

b. The phone number of the sexy tiger on the front of the box. He’s so passionate about breakfast and health that he’s surely also a grrreat lover. +CHARM

c. A sample of a more nutritious breakfast option, so people are encouraged to stop eating that colorful crap. +SMARTS

What inanimate object do you think would make the best girlfriend or boyfriend, provided you went criminally insane?

a. A human-size pillow depicting a character created by myself. As a matter of fact, I have all the needed paperwork and I’m only waiting for the conservative narrow-minded laws of our country to finally step forward into waifu and husbando territory, as was clearly intended by God. +CREATIVITY

b. A dildo, duh. +FUN

c. An ATM. Sugar baby life, here I come! +WEALTH

Which god do you pray to each night before sleeping?

a. Praying is kind of lame. I have a group text set up with some deities: Dionysus, Bastet, Loki... coolest cats in town. +CHARM

b. Praying is for fools. I took some compromising pics of a god molesting a tree, and now I blackmail him for whatever I want. A lot more effective. +SMARTS

c. Oh, I pray to all kinds of gods. I have this business where people pay me to deliver their prayers every night. I’ve even started to look for a Chinese factory to outsource the prayers. +WEALTH

prom date questions

What is the sexiest type of knowledge a lover can have?

a. How to set stuff on fire. ❤️DAMIEN

b. All the principles to build a financial empire. ❤️VERA

c. Lyrics to all Disney songs. ❤️MIRANDA

d. Obscure 80s movie trivia. ❤️LIAM

e. Sports things. ❤️SCOTT

f. How to make a killer cocktail out of anything. ❤️POLLY

Your partner just gave you a cool gift for your anniversary but you totally forgot! Quick, come up with an idea for a great gift!

a. The head of their fiercest enemy. ❤️VERA

b. A silly toy that makes silly noises. ❤️SCOTT

c. The abstract concept of gratefulness. ❤️LIAM

d. A pony. Always a pony. ❤️MIRANDA

e. Anything on fire. Or a weapon. No, no: a weapon on fire. ❤️DAMIEN

f. Anything capable of leading them to an overdose of some sorts. ❤️POLLY

What would be a deal-breaker for a potential lover?

a. The person lacks taste. ❤️LIAM

b. The person is mediocre. ❤️VERA

c. The person is a coward. ❤️DAMIEN

d. The person is boring. ❤️POLLY

e. The person hates the outdoors. ❤️SCOTT 

f. The person lacks manners. ❤️MIRANDA

What would be a killer accessory?

a. Sunglasses... at night. ❤️POLLY

b. A fabulous purse made from the skin of your worst enemy. ❤️VERA

c. Coolness itself. ❤️LIAM

d. Fancy brass knuckles. ❤️DAMIEN

e. A necklace with your own name... in case you forget! ❤️SCOTT

f. Shiny armor. ❤️MIRANDA

The world will end tomorrow... What will you do today?

a. Nobody ends the world but me! I’ll end the world today. ❤️DAMIEN

b. It’s okay! We invented the apocalypse to take care of the overpopulation of commoners. ❤️MIRANDA

c. I’ll finish my novel... whoever comes after the end should know my legacy! ❤️LIAM

d. 100 push-ups... no, no 200 push-ups! ❤️SCOTT

e. They always tell you the world is ending... I’ll profit on other people’s hysteria. ❤️VERA

f. I always party as if there were no tomorrow... so who cares? ❤️POLLY

Which criteria would you use to name your children?

a. Meh... no name? It’s just too much work! ❤️POLLY

b. I will research for a name that is pun-proof and joke-proof. No one will pick on them. ❤️VERA

c. A non-heteronormative name to give them freedom to define themselves on their own terms. ❤️LIAM

d. Just a swear word. ❤️DAMIEN

e. My name + “II” (the Second). ❤️MIRANDA

f. Something simple and friendly, like Bobby or Mary. ❤️SCOTT

If you were an ice cream... which flavour would you be?

a. Double creme de la Gruyere and meringues. ❤️LIAM

b. Spicy chocolate. No... chocolate on FIRE! ❤️DAMIEN

c. Success. ❤️VERA

d. Tequila and coke. ;) ❤️POLLY

e. Rainbows and gummy bears. ❤️MIRANDA

f. Meat! ❤️SCOTT

What would be your dream first date?

a. An art exhibition experimental enough to give you a seizure. ❤️LIAM

b. A sweaty and manly wrestling match. ❤️SCOTT

c. A professional meeting where you charm your date with some astonishing business advice! ❤️VERA

d. A wild party in international waters. ❤️POLLY

e. A lovely walk in the forest... after rescuing your date from a dragon! ❤️MIRANDA

f. Crimes. ❤️DAMIEN

You find a genie in a bottle. You can ask for whatever you want. What do you ask for?

a. A rainbow that you can eat! ❤️MIRANDA

b. I don’t ask for anything. I drink the genie from the bottle. I can grant my own wishes! ❤️DAMIEN

c. Before asking for anything, you try to negotiate up to the three standard wishes. ❤️VERA

d. Infinite confetti! ❤️POLLY

e. ...His friendship! ❤️SCOTT

f. Him to not be so cliched. Genies and wishes... so mainstream! ❤️LIAM

What would be the most appealing in a love partner?

a. A big... horn. ❤️DAMIEN

b. Sharp wits. ❤️LIAM

c. Kawaii eyes. ❤️MIRANDA

d. A very tsundere personality. ❤️VERA

e. Soft fur. ❤️SCOTT

f. A taste for party. ❤️POLLY

[vateacancameos]

Chapters: 1/1 Words:1629 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, vague depictions of domestic abuse, Domestic Violence, Friendship, Tattoos, Healing Series: Part 2 of Tattoo My Name On Your Heart Summary:

Prequel to Secrets Are Mine to Keep. 

Martha Hudson needs to heal after leaving an abusive situation. She stumbles upon a Sherlock at the beginning of his tattooing career. He helps cover more than scars.

This can be read as a stand-alone, but works best when read in conjunction with the previous story in this series. If reading this before Secrets Are Mine to Keep, just know that Sherlock is a tattoo artist instead of a detective.

(CW for mentions of domestic abuse)

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

Martha Hudson married young, but that didn’t make her stupid. She knew the likelihood of Frank being The One was highly unlikely, but she was in love and he had a great car and a gorgeous body.

There might have been a chance at some long-term happiness if they’d stayed in England, but Florida did her husband no favors. It started with a bad crowd and moved to late-night drug deals and a few people being permanently hushed. But Martha liked an exciting life, so she went along with it, if a little uneasily.

Even then, she might have loved Frank until the end, except that he decided that running a drug empire meant he should start testing the product himself, and like Florida, drugs did her husband no favors. The first time he hit her, she passed it off as a one-time thing. He’d been stressed already, and then she’d nagged him about some chore he’d forgot to do. It wouldn’t happen again, though. They loved each other.

Except that it did. Not often, and nothing so bad that a little makeup or a long-sleeved shirt wouldn’t hide it, but a couple of times a year, it did happen. And yet she stayed. Because Frank needed her. Because where could she go? Because their friends would side with Frank. Because she had no formal education and no skills beyond book keeping for a drug lord.

In the end, fate got Martha out of the bad situation she had found herself in. Frank learned about the warrant for his arrest two hours before the cops arrived. It was enough time to accuse Martha of tipping them off. Two hours later, he left in a cop car with blood on his hands. Martha left in an ambulance with blood on her back.

***

read the rest of the story after the cut or on ao3. 

When Martha met Sherlock Holmes five years later, she saw in his eyes the moment he understood what had happened to her. She walked into the shop on a whim because she wanted to cover the scars. Sherlock was finishing his apprenticeship and was given the walk-ins. He’d been stiff in his greeting, and Martha almost walked back out again. But then he’d looked, and he’d seen her, so she stayed.

After his knowing look, he asked only one question, very softly. “What did you wish for?”

A thousand regrets clamored in her head. There were so many moments she could have ended it. But what came out of her mouth was “I wish I’d flown away.” It was a silly, childish wish and not at all what she’d been thinking, but Sherlock only nodded.

“I need to see them.” They were in a private room, but Sherlock was a young man and Martha was from an era where you didn’t just strip off your shirt in mixed company (unless in specific situations involving exotic dancing). But she was doing this to learn to be brave and to forget her past, so she took a breath, turned to face away from him, and lifted her shirt.

Sherlock’s hands were gentle and warm. He was a perfect gentlemen as he measured her and asked a few questions about placement.

“I need time to work on some ideas,” he finally said, and her heart dropped. She didn’t know if she’d be brave enough to do this if it was drawn out. But then he continued. “Come back tomorrow at noon.”

She settled her shirt back in place and turned to face this solemn young artist she’d been assigned. Looking at him, she could tell his past was no rosier than hers. Despite their differences, she felt a kindred spirit, and her courage came back.

“Alright.”

***

The sound of smashing ceramic and an angry shout almost had her bolting back out of the door, but she took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the shop. The young man behind the counter rolled his eyes. “Ignore the freak,” he said, pointing to the room where Martha had met Sherlock the day before. “He’s a toddler sometimes.”

“Oh. I have an appointment with him …” She fiddled with the strap of her purse and frowned at the man’s words. ‘Freak’ was a little harsh. These creative types were always overemotional. You’d think people working in a tattoo shop would be used to that sort.

The man sighed again just as Sherlock stomped into the front area. His fierce walk stuttered to a stop when he saw Martha. “Ah, yes. Just a minor setback. Let’s … um, go out.” He exited as quickly as he’d entered, but he was back a moment later wearing a dramatic coat and carrying a sketchpad. He nodded for the front door, holding it open for her (such a gentlemen) as they exited.

“I’m afraid I’m having … difficulties visualizing your art,” he explained after they’d found a nearby café and sat with their drink. He frowned down at the cover of his sketchpad. “Normally …” He shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his wild curls.

“Everyone gets … what’s writer’s block but with art? Artist’s block?” She patted his hand. “It’s alright.” Funny that she was the one comforting him. She did that a lot.

Sherlock scowled. “Not to me. I see a person, and then I visualize their tattoo. It’s what I do. My process has never failed me before.”

“Can I help?”

“What? No. How could you help?”

Martha shrugged. “What else do you need to know? Should I tell you my favorite colors or my childhood dreams?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Purple and dancing. That’s no use.”

She sat back, startled. “Oh. Well. That is impressive.”

He raised his eyes from where they’d been focused on his cup. “You’re not scared I’m some sort of stalker?”

She laughed. “Oh pish. No. You’re observant is all. You said so yourself. So. Tell me what you need to know so you can design my tattoo.”

He sighed dramatically. Oh, yes, this boy would be a handful.

She smiled. “Fine. I���ll just start talking until you tell me to shut up.”

And she did. She told him about her childhood best friend, the stray cat she took in right after she got married, how the weather in Florida always felt wrong. She talked about her wedding day, her older sister, the uncle sent to prison for making moonshine during American Prohibition. She talked and talked, and Sherlock never stopped her. She wasn’t sure he was always listening, but she could see that his brain was working, so she figured she was doing something right.

“And then, they ended up arresting Frank on tax fraud, of all things! He shot a man’s head off and there wasn’t a word, but the moment the government wasn’t getting its due, they raised a fuss. Oh, America. Such a strange country.” Odd how she could talk about that without feeling a thing. And it really was funny, when you thought about how it all went down, minus the hospital visit.

Sherlock’s head shot up. “They have the death penalty in Florida, correct?”

“Oh yes, but not for tax fraud.”

“But for shooting a man’s head off, they would.”

She nodded half-heartedly. “They can’t charge him for that, though. He’s very good at what he does, my Frank.”

“So am I,” Sherlock replied slowly.

“Well that remains to be seen. Seeing as you’ve reneged on our deal to have a sketch ready by today.”

“No, the other thing. I help the police with cases sometimes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really.” It was sort of sweet how he tried to talk himself up. The poor boy must not have received enough love growing up. Her heart broke for him. He needed someone in his corner.

“Fine, I’ve helped a policeman. Once. And I was sort of high at the time.” He waved a hand. “But that doesn’t matter. I am capable of doing what the detectives do. And far better.” Sherlock grinned. “I’m going to put your husband on death row.”

She stilled. Despite the glib tone, she knew he was serious. At least serious about trying. And yes, they were talking about death, which should never be mentioned lightly. But really, if Frank was put on death row, it was only his own fault for not following American laws. He should be bound by those punishments, shouldn’t he? But it was Frank, and no matter what he’d done, she did love him still, in a way. But …

“I can’t afford to pay for both a tattoo and a detective …” she began slowly.

He leveled a disbelieving look at her. “You took care of his books for years. As if you didn’t squirrel away some money of your own or find a way take the bulk of his fortune after he, well, after.”

“Well, I never.” But she was smiling. He really was very good at his job. Well, one of his jobs, it seemed. She could do worse than to believe in him.

***

In the end, it took less time to find the necessary information to put Frank away for good than it did for Sherlock to design Martha’s tattoo. Still, she couldn’t complain. Her freedom was worth more than some pesky scars she only rarely saw. More than that, Sherlock made her feel comfortable with herself again. The poor boy needed someone looking after and believing in him. And she needed to keep busy.

By the time he’d come up with the final draft of the tattoo, they’d become business partners, opened a little tattoo shop, and Sherlock had moved in upstairs. And truly, the tattoo was worth the wait. She might not be able to fly, but the wings on her back made her feel like she could do anything.

[littlewalken]

Two and A Half Men story starter

Warning for being as lemon fresh as anything else TAAHM has ever done

Alan finally lands a steady job with guaranteed income and ever increasing perks...

The place didn’t look like a serial killer’s murder basement. Of course Alan Harper would be the type to answer an ad in the back of a free adult newspaper looking for a licensed chiropractor. A male chiropractor. Porn was the last bastion of being able to divide people by gender, race, and tit size, he told himself. 

Actually the place looked as unlike a serial killer’s basement or a porno factory as one might expect. It was a nondescript mid rise glass covered building with a several storied guarded parking structure and a small lot denoted for visitors. The main entrance looked to have a lobby but Alan’s appointment was to be through one of the smaller ones with only a suite number. 

Beyond the door was a small, bright, clean waiting area with a linoleum floor and plastic chairs. A noticeable sign told him cameras were everywhere. He hoped he looked professional enough in his doctor’s coat over a plaid shirt and khakis. 

They called him Dr Harper. It felt like no one would call Alan a doctor even if he was dressed as a time lord. They spoke briefly about his arrest record but it was nothing to them. Somehow allegations of getting a bit hands on came out, that was of no concern, and if Alan had read the interviewer correctly Happy Endings might have been expected. 

As he was lead further in to the building Alan was beginning to wonder if Happy Endings were the whole point of his being here but to his relief he had been taken through a back entrance to a space that had been outfitted as a small gym. 

It was all a matter of regulations and health codes and other bullshit. The employees had gym access, they wanted a masseuse on call. This was the male only gym, there was an identical one for female employees, so they needed a male. It was a salaried job with regular hours. 

A little room with a great view had been partitioned off to hold a massage table and equipment. Anything else Alan would need for his work would be provided. 

They know who I am, right? They know I’m a reprehensible human being, right? Alan thought to himself as he was shown out. Someone else is going to get this job. There must be other applicants. 

Five black polo shirts with the company logo and a white coat all with Dr Harper on them sat on the massage table. Dr Harper DC was on a sign outside the room. A sign up sheet on a clip board was hanging on the wall and there were already employee numbers on it. They didn’t use names here, just numbers, and key cards, and cameras that were everywhere. 

The gym was well in use and Alan thought about using it himself. Hell, there were even personal trainers at disposal. Finally it was time to treat his first client. There were no Happy Endings or misunderstandings or anyone grabbing his hands off their shoulders and pulling him down on top of them. There was just business. 

Lunch was provided, free. Good, healthy, nutritional lunch or breakfast or dinner, what ever you wanted from the menu. Proper meals were at set times but there was always something to be had at any hour for what ever went on in this place went on 24 hours a day. Dr Harper’s services however were just in the day time. 

The dining area opened to a rooftop patio, to one side was the view of the mountains, the other the sea. Here the company was mixed between men and women. A whole building full of incredible looking women who hopefully had no idea who or how Alan Harper was.

The man from payroll had filled out the paperwork, but for a few things Alan needed to add or sign, before he had pulled out his paperwork and made himself comfortable in the chair on the other side of the desk.

“Oh, you are the real chiropractor.” His name was Lazlo something unpronounceable with a dozen continents including a Z ending with CPA and on top of his head was an impressive nest of golden curls. His skin was a similar shade of gold.

“The real chiropractor?” Alan laughed a bit. 

“You know how it is around here,” Lazlo dismissed.

“No, I don’t, I’m new.”

Lazlo’s eyebrows went up in a slight surprise, then one remained up, “You have beautiful hands.” 

“Oh, thank you.”

“Are you having lunch in the dining hall? There’s someone who must see your hands.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Alan spent the rest of his morning cheerfully imagining the woman he thought Lazlo was going to hook him up with. Why yes, my hands are beautiful. You want them to touch you where? I suppose. 

Lazlo was waiting for Alan and they sat at one of the round booths that was nestled in a corner of the room. It was quiet, a good place for conversations, and glowed from one of those sunlight tubes in the ceiling.

“When was the last time you had a manicure?” Lazlo asked as he examined Alan’s hands more than anyone ever had. Alan just shrugged. “Then you’ll get one,” Lazlo continued. “If you don’t mind it being filmed.”

“Filmed? A manicure?” Alan asked. 

“For a video. You can have a pedicure too.”

All Alan could manage was nervous laughter. Lazlo had released his hands and made no attempts to stop Alan when he scooted to the entrance of the booth to leave. Just before he could stand up Alan was greeted with the sight of the most powerful yet elegant man he had ever seen.

“Dr Harper,” the man, who was only known as The Swede, said as he shook Alan’s hand. “Lazlo was right, as usual, you do have beautiful hands.”

Politeness dictated Alan had to return to the booth but he arranged it so he was near the exit and could make his escape if wanted. After he ate. The food here was too good. 

With a nervous grin and Should I Stay or Should I Go playing in his head Alan entered the room. He had showered and dressed in the black t-shirt, bike shorts, and flip flops he had been given, his employee ID around his neck. The man who had been the previous victim was dressed the same and doing the wet nails walk girls did. It was after hours but a free mani-pedi was a free mani-pedi.

Except it wasn’t free. They were paying Alan for his time. And Alan Harper was not the man to turn down a free mani-pedi even if they set him on fire. 

A comfortable lounge chair was in the middle of the room and four nail stations each manned by an Asian woman surrounded it. A professional camera sat above each station pointing strait down. The Swede was sitting in a chair surrounded by monitors, wires, and other movie directing stuff. A screen showing the view of the four cameras sat where everyone in the room could see it.

“Make yourself comfortable, Dr Harper,” The Swede said. “There won’t be any sound. If you have any preferences please inform the technicians.”

“Please be gentle,” Alan giggled nervously. He was greeted with four separate expressions. Don’t make a happy ending joke, he told himself. 

It was surprisingly strait forward. The women did their work and the cameras held tight on their shots, it could have been anyone hands and feet. Soon enough it was done and Alan was instructed how to care for his nails. 

“So, will I be invited to the premiere?” Alan joked as he was helped back in to his flip flops. 

“This is mostly for stock and b-roll,” The Swede said. “Caucasian male, dainty hands and fingers, medium to large feet.” 

“Oh.” Alan felt a bit crestfallen. “Okay.”

As he went out the room doing his own wet nails walk Alan passed another man who was going in. His hands looked rough and huge. 

“How much did you have to pay them to touch you?” Berta said, hand on her hip in disbelief.

“After work perk,” Alan said happily. 

Charlie looked at him suspiciously. “You actually work?”

“Yes,” Alan said. “I told you, it’s a private gym and they wanted a licensed chiropractor.”

“A licensed chiropractor rumored to give Happy Endings?”

“Lies and you know it.”

Charlie sat on the couch, beer in hand, porno on the TV. Alan sat at the table considering activities to do with Jake. The bonus from his man-pedi had come in and in the back of his head it felt a bit like dirty money. 

“Aha! A food truck festival with unlimited passes, there’s something he’ll like!” Alan said aloud.

“Boobs.” Charlie grunted as he pointed at the TV. Instinctively Alan looked. There were boobs alright, big squishy boobs. And Lazlo.

That’s… Alan stopped himself from saying anything. For a moment. “Wow, those are big, aren’t they?”

“I’ve seen bigger,” Charlie grunted. 

Lazlo was playing a nebbish accountant helping several large busted prostitutes file their taxes. Aside from the bare breasts and activities involving bare breasts it was pretty tame for a porno. 

Alan joined Charlie on the couch and casually picked up the DVD cover. 

“They want me to write some music for them,” Charlie said. “Sinsidential and leaf motif stuff.”

“How does one write music for breasts?”

“Easy,” Charlie said as he began to hum something. 

the ending is up to you...

[oceanfronthiltonheadisland]

Ten Tips for Cutting Home Ownership Costs This Year

Owning a home is expensive. From the time you start planning to buy a home until long after you’ve moved in, there are a myriad of ongoing costs. The down payment, insurance and taxes all start before you even take possession. Then you have moving expenses, mortgage payments, bills and ongoing maintenance. It adds up quickly and can leave you without any disposable income before you know it.

With some minor upgrades and small adjustments, you can easily reduce your home ownership costs. These 10 tips will help you reduce expenses and save money so you can start enjoying your new home!

Top 10 Tips to Reduce Home Ownership Costs

Refinance Your Mortgage

Since your mortgage is likely your biggest overall debt, this is a good place to start when trying to reduce home ownership costs. Refinancing your mortgage with a lower interest rate will reduce your monthly payments and save you thousands over the long run.

If you can’t refinance, restructuring your payment schedule can help you save money and pay off your mortgage sooner. Increasing your payment frequency or shortening the length of your mortgage will also decrease the amount of interest you pay.

Reduce Non-Essential Bills

You can almost always find ways to save money on your monthly bills. Compare internet, phone and cable service providers to make sure you’re getting the best deal for your dollar. Different companies may offer more data for the same price, or discounts if you purchase more than one service.

By shopping around for house insurance, you can save money each month. And you can also raise your deductible to lower your monthly payments. Combining your home and auto insurance should save money as well.

Avoid paying bills on credit. Unless you pay off your credit card entirely every month, you’ll be paying interest on top of your regular fee.

Lower Heating Costs

Reducing your heating costs will go a long way to bringing down your overall expenses. An easy first step is to turn down your thermostat. Reduce temperatures at night and during the day when everyone is out of the house. And try to lower the temperature by a degree or two when you’re home as well. Wearing a sweater and keeping a blanket nearby will save you money on heating bills.

To make sure you don’t forget to adjust the heat, replace old thermostats with new programmable ones. You can set programs for weekdays and weekends, ensuring you always have it set to the appropriate temperature.

Clean vents and have furnace maintenance done regularly to ensure you’re not wasting money running an inefficient furnace.

Going Green Saves Energy

A little green living goes a long way. Making changes to help the environment will also help reduce your energy costs. Replace old incandescent light bulbs with new CFL or LED bulbs to save energy. To save even more, install motion lights in hallways and add timers to outdoor lights.

Unplug electronics when not in use to avoid paying for phantom power. Electronics such as TV’s, stereo equipment, computers, chargers and small appliances all continue to draw electricity even when they’re turned off. If you don’t want to unplug everything, invest in a power strip with a power switch so you can turn everything off at once.

Fix Leaks

A dripping tap may not seem like it wastes a lot of water, but those drips add up fast. Fixing leaks on taps and toilets will save money on water bills. Don’t forget to check outdoor taps and hoses for leaks and ensure they always get turned off after use.

Whether you’re trying to keep cool in the summer or warm in the winter, don’t waste energy on air leaks. Add weather stripping around windows and doors to reduce air loss. Light switches and electrical outlets can also be a source of air leaks. Install inexpensive foam gaskets behind the covers to provide a better seal.

Save on Laundry Costs

Laundry is a necessary evil. It also makes up a big portion of your energy bills. To help keep laundry costs at a minimum, always do full loads and wash in cold water.

Dryers are one of the most expensive appliances to run. Hanging clothes to dry will save you quite a bit in energy costs. If you aren’t able to hang an outdoor clothesline, buy a clothes rack or install a drying rod.  

Get Handy with Repairs

Hiring a handyman every time you need a repair done can get costly. Learn how to make basic repairs yourself and you’ll save hundreds of dollars. The internet is overflowing with DIY advice. Watch a few videos and you can easily handle repairs like installing a thermostat, repairing a toilet or replacing locks.

Repair or Replace Appliances

Large appliances like fridges and freezers use a lot of electricity. Regular maintenance will help keep them running efficiently. Clean condenser coils and repair motors that aren’t running smoothly. Replace damaged door seals regularly to ensure cold air stays in.

Buying Second Hand Items

There are a lot of things required to maintain a home. From tools to gardening supplies to furniture, it can seem like you’re always saving up for the next purchase. You can save a lot of money on these items if you buy second hand. Resale sites like Kijiji or Facebook Marketplace have almost everything under the sun listed for much less than you would pay if you bought new. And, oftentimes, these items are barely used.

You can also find home décor items like curtains and area rugs to help reduce decorating costs. Big ticket purchases like a couch or dining room set are often more than half price, saving you hundreds of dollars.

Don’t Pay for Services You Can Do Yourself

While it might be nice not to have to shovel snow or mow the lawn, paying to have these services taken care of can be very expensive. If you’re trying to reduce expenses, you’ll have to forgo the house cleaner and mop your own floors. You should also skip convenient services like grocery delivery and always pick up orders in-store rather than having them shipped.

If you’re looking to own a home on Hilton Head Island, visit Ocean Front HHI to find the perfect home in a great neighborhood.  Check out our Featured Neighborhoods or use the Advanced Search to narrow your desired location.

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