#or false cursor maybe

[starryali]

I have this au in the corner of my head that has been rotting for far too long than I'm willing to discuss.

So it's like stick!Alan, but instead of turning into a stick figure later in the story, he's been a stick figure since the moment of his creation. Maybe he was named 'the animator' that's why he can control stuff, but called himself Alan tsc/ orange style to make himself feel more real.

[blubberquark]

Picking

The question “How do you know which in-game item a user has clicked on?“ has surprisingly many answers. It’s not a particularly difficult question to answer, but there are several “correct“ answers out there in textbooks and tutorials. Each of them is supposed to be for 3D games, but they all can be made to work in 2D, for obvious reasons.

Render To Buffer

In order to determine which item a user has clicked on, you render the 3D scene to a special buffer, with special colours and without shading. Every object has its own unique colour (maybe you give each clickable object a unique 24-bit or 32-bit ID) that can be looked up somewhere. Objects that aren’t clickable are just 0x000000.

Now you can look up the position of the mouse cursor in that buffer, look up the colour in your look-up table, et voilà, you get the object the user has clicked on.

Render To Pixel

Rendering the whole 3D scene again with false colours is actually rather wasteful. How about instead of rendering a whole buffer the size of the window, you just render a 1x1 pixel buffer, and set up the camera/view frustum/projection matrix so that the perspective of that pixel is the same as the perspective of the corresponding pixel on the screen? The maths here should be simplified if the reticle is in the centre of the screen. If your engine has view frustum culling, this could even be highly performant.

Draw-And-Pick

Do you enjoy living dangerously? Do you hate your colleagues? Your future self?

Just do drawing and picking in one pass. What could possibly go wrong? Inside your drawing code, just check if the pixel you are currently drawing is under the mouse. This only really works if you are doing software rendering, and it will come back to bite you sooner or later, but it saves you from implementing a separate picking step. So who can say if this is really wrong?

Geometry

This is the most boring answer. In Unity, there is an option to do a ray-cast on the collision data. Sometimes this method is not pixel-perfect, because some objects have hitboxes that are smaller than their render geometry, some have hitboxes that are simple shapes circumscribed around their geometry, and some don’t have collision geometry at all, so the mouse click goes right through them.

All in all, having your level geometry in a data structure you can query easily for continuous collision detection is a pretty good deal. If you can, take this deal!

Physics

This is the most fun answer. Just spawn an object, launch it into the direction of the cursor, and trigger an action when it hits something.

[foolishfera]

How to block most website elements with uBlock Origin

A lot of people are already familiar with uBlock Origin (if you aren't it's a pretty robust and customizable ad blocker addon available for most common browsers), but there's a great and simple-to-use feature that goes underlooked by a lot of users: the element picker.

The element picker lets users block specific parts of a website without needing to manually write a filter list. It simply works by selecting the tool (with a pippette icon), highlighting a website element, and then clicking the "create" button to make a blocker for it.

Let's go through an example. Say I'm browsing this website and it decides to put a picture of a clown in the bottom right. Maybe I don't like this clown. So let's get rid of it!

First, select the element picker tool by clicking on the icon for uBlock Origin to open the addon's panel and then selecting the pippette icon:

This tool changes your cursor to a selection tool which highlights web elements. Click the element you want to be rid of, and a panel will open. You can press "Preview" to see what it would look like when blocked, and the "Create" button adds the web element to your blocklist.

Your blocklist can be found in the options of uBlock Origin under "My Filters". Your latest filter applied will be at the very bottom of that list, so if you accidentally block something you didn't want to, just delete it from there.

This method isn't perfect, as it depends on how the website in question has designed its web elements. Sometimes elements need blocking a few times if the site has a few different types of webpages, and sometimes elements are reused and the picker will select some false positives.

This is a great way however to make the web more customizable for you with minimal effort. For example, maybe you find various number stats on social media (such as likes, views, ratings etc.) to be annoying or stressful. Maybe a website has some buttons you keep clicking by mistake or are otherwise not useful to you. Maybe your adblocker just missed a couple adverts. Well, you can just block them all with this.

Make the web more like how you want it to be, get creative with web element blocking!

[whumpasaurus101]

Crystal Clear

OKAY SO THIS BASICALLY GNERATED FROM A THOUGHT I HAD AT 3AM (thank you @whump-queen for supporting my insomnia thoughts HUIJDHIDUJKHDK)

tw: alicia is hot xox / hand injury / possible fractured bone??? its not in detail at all- hell, idek how injurred it is tbh/ cursing

-ENJOYYY :D-

---

Jack knew from the start that he shouldn't have done it. The very first day Alicia took him in, she made it crystal clear that he was never allowed to go into her office. But it was eating away at him. What did she not want him to see????

One of the nights, Alicia was passed out asleep. Jack turned to face her in the bed, studying her face for a moment. A slight smile was on her lips. Not like the sinister smirk that usually painted her lips. Nono, this one was… Kind. Jack couldn't stop himself from smiling gently, admiring how pretty she looked… So Peaceful. 

He coughed into his hand twice… She didn't wake. Next he ever so slowly scooched his way out of the bed, tiptoeing out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Once he was out he pressed his back against the door and tilted his head up as he let out a sigh of relief. 

His eyes fell closed for a moment before he smirked and opened them again, pushing himself away from the door and tiptoeing off to the office door. His hand fished into his back pocket as he retrieved the key he had snatched from Alicia's coat pocket. Luckily her mind was on some guy called Romeo's poker night tomorrow that she didn't even notice her key missing. 

He had watched Alicia open this door a few times before. His tongue stuck out slightly as he concentrated. He put the key into the lock and twisted it right, the lock clicked and Jack's face lit up. 

As the door creaked open, his glistening eyes scanned the room around him, shelves neatly organized with binded books and folders. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw names among the spine of each folder. 

He felt his heartbeat picking up, an uneasy feeling creeping over his shoulders and rippling down his spine. He gulped, clearing his throat before strolling to Alicia’s desk. Her laptop sat open but the screen blank. His eyes scanned the keyboard for a momen, one of his hands hovering over it before he slowly pressed down on one of the buttons. He jumped as the screen brightened, eyes sparkling as he studied the sight in front of him.

There was a folder labeled ‘Jack’. His eyebrows furrowed and he moved the cursor over to it,tapping twice. Just as the loading sign appeared, Jack’s head shot up as footsteps sounded from the other room. He cursed under his breath before looking around the office, seeing where he could hide… was there even a point of him hiding?

The minute the footsteps grew louder, Jack decided that there was a point. He rushed under the desk, sitting on the wooden floor with his back pressed hard against the side of the desk, he held his breath as the door opened, rushing to place one hand over his mouth.  

“Baby?”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, nonononono.

“Jack, you know you're not allowed in here.” Her high heels roam against to floor, click clack clack clack

“Wherever could he be!!!” Jack whimpered at her false tone, squeezing his eyes shut. He wished the ground could just swallow him whole. Why did he do this!?! Why was he so stupid to even think he could get away with this?

Clack clack clack. Nonono too close for comfort, too close for comf-

“It seems that I have found my little trouble maker!!!” Alicia’s eyes practically sparkled as they landed on Jack’s hand, just peeking out from under her desk. She took a few strides forward. Is someone testing the rules, hm? Maybe with your old owner it would’ve been okay, but with me?” 

In a matter of seconds, Alicia raised her foot before stomping down hard onto the back of Jack’s hand, making the boy scream out in pain. White filled Jack's vision for a split second as his body seized up in pain.  

“With me, rules are made to be obeyed,” Alicia continued, grinding the pointy heel against Jack’s bone with a growl, causing Jack’s scream to grow even louder, a pathetic sob cutting it off.  “PL-PLEASE I'M SORRYY!!!” Jack sobbed, “PLEASE- Ple-please… I’m so s-sorry…”

Alicia tilted her head with a hum, increasing the pressure against her boy’s hand. Her hand trailed up his neck, fingers curling under Jack’s chin, tilting his head up. Jack’s petrified, tear-filled eyes met with Alicia’s cold glare. “I really don't think you are sorry, baby…”

A whine tore from his throat and his bottom lip wobbled, “Pl-plea-” The backhand echoed through the room. 

“Silence!!!” Jack sobbed out, a hand flying to his cheek. “I don't have the energy for this defiance,” Alicia growled, digging her nails into Jack’s soft skin. “You have disappointed me, Jack.”

Jack flinched hard, Alicia only really called him by his name when she felt like he didn't deserve being called any pet names. He whimpered as tears streamed down his face. His hand was in so much pain he swore he could pass out. But he wouldn’t. He needed to be good for Alicia.

The silence was deafening. The only sound that could be heard was Jack’s wheezing and whimpering. Alicia’s cold eyes studied her boy. His whole body hunched over as his hand grabs his wrist, trying to stop himself from pulling it away from Alicia. His chest rose and fell quickly in an unsteady rhythm. She hummed in thought before eventually lifting her boot off.

Jack gasped, his hand shooting up to his chest as held it protectively, “Tha-thank you ma-ma’am!!! Thank you so-so much- thank you ‘m so sorry- I’m so so sorry-” Jack sobbed, clutching onto Alicia’s leg. He was so grateful. Alicia had forgiven him. She had been so kind and forgave him for such a terrible thing!!!

Alicia tried to conceal the smirk that played on her lips, but it was practically pointless. She carded her hand through Jack’s hair, feeling him instantly lean into the touch. But the soft, kind, gentle touch suddenly tightened, making Jack yelp out.

“Oh baby…. You're not fully forgiven. I expect you to write out an apology letter until your hand feels like it's going to fucking fall off. I expect you to be on your best fucking behaviour that you have ever been. I expect you to take a daily punishment without any complaints, and lastly, Romeo is hosting a party in a week's time, you will be wearing your shock collar so everyone can see how you have lost my trust. Oh, and how could I forget…”

Alicia grabbed Jack roughly by the chin, her nails digging in as she yanked Jack’s face up to look up at her, “I will make sure that every single guest in that fucking house will have their turn with you, beating the shit out of you. And then, maybe then, I’ll forgive you. Am I clear?”

Fear filled Jack’s face, all the colour draining from it suddenly as he gulped, “Cr-crystal…”

---

THANKEN YU FOR READINGGG 💜

Taglist: @likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @appy-polly-loggies @happy-whumper @hold-back-on-the-comfort @tears-and-lilies @heathenwhump @whumpkinpie @shywhumpauthor @cursedscribbles @whump-queen

(LMK IF YA WANNA BE ADDED OR REMOVED <3)

[codehunter]

Memory efficient (constant) and speed optimized iteration over a large table in Django

I have a very large table.It's currently in a MySQL database.I use django.

I need to iterate over each element of the table to pre-compute some particular data (maybe if I was better I could do otherwise but that's not the point).

I'd like to keep the iteration as fast as possible with a constant usage of memory.

As it is already clearly in Limiting Memory Use in a *Large* Django QuerySet and Why is iterating through a large Django QuerySet consuming massive amounts of memory?, a simple iteration over all objects in django will kill the machine as it will retrieve ALL objects from the database.

Towards a solution

First of all, to reduce your memory consumption you should be sure DEBUG is False (or monkey patch the cursor: turn off SQL logging while keeping settings.DEBUG?) to be sure django isn't storing stuff in connections for debug.

But even with that,

for model in Model.objects.all()

is a no go.

Not even with the slightly improved form:

for model in Model.objects.all().iterator()

Using iterator() will save you some memory by not storing the result of the cache internally (though not necessarily on PostgreSQL!); but will still retrieve the whole objects from the database, apparently.

A naive solution

The solution in the first question is to slice the results based on a counter by a chunk_size. There are several ways to write it, but basically they all come down to an OFFSET + LIMIT query in SQL.

something like:

qs = Model.objects.all()counter = 0count = qs.count()while counter < count: for model in qs[counter:counter+count].iterator() yield model counter += chunk_size

While this is memory efficient (constant memory usage proportional to chunk_size), it's really poor in term of speed: as OFFSET grows, both MySQL and PostgreSQL (and likely most DBs) will start choking and slowing down.

A better solution

A better solution is available in this post by Thierry Schellenbach.It filters on the PK, which is way faster than offsetting (how fast probably depends on the DB)

pk = 0last_pk = qs.order_by('-pk')[0].pkqueryset = qs.order_by('pk')while pk < last_pk: for row in qs.filter(pk__gt=pk)[:chunksize]: pk = row.pk yield row gc.collect()

This is starting to get satisfactory. Now Memory = O(C), and Speed ~= O(N)

Issues with the "better" solution

The better solution only works when the PK is available in the QuerySet. Unluckily, that's not always the case, in particular when the QuerySet contains combinations of distinct (group_by) and/or values (ValueQuerySet).

For that situation the "better solution" cannot be used.

Can we do better?

Now I'm wondering if we can go faster and avoid the issue regarding QuerySets without PK.Maybe using something that I found in other answers, but only in pure SQL: using cursors.

Since I'm quite bad with raw SQL, in particular in Django, here comes the real question:

how can we build a better Django QuerySet Iterator for large tables

My take from what I've read is that we should use server-side cursors (apparently (see references) using a standard Django Cursor would not achieve the same result, because by default both python-MySQL and psycopg connectors cache the results).

Would this really be a faster (and/or more efficient) solution?

Can this be done using raw SQL in django? Or should we write specific python code depending on the database connector?

Server Side cursors in PostgreSQL and in MySQL

That's as far as I could get for the moment...

a Django chunked_iterator()

Now, of course the best would have this method work as queryset.iterator(), rather than iterate(queryset), and be part of django core or at least a pluggable app.

Update Thanks to "T" in the comments for finding a django ticket that carry some additional information. Differences in connector behaviors make it so that probably the best solution would be to create a specific chunked method rather than transparently extending iterator (sounds like a good approach to me).An implementation stub exists, but there hasn't been any work in a year, and it does not look like the author is ready to jump on that yet.

Additional Refs:

Why does MYSQL higher LIMIT offset slow the query down?

How can I speed up a MySQL query with a large offset in the LIMIT clause?

http://explainextended.com/2009/10/23/mysql-order-by-limit-performance-late-row-lookups/

postgresql: offset + limit gets to be very slow

Improving OFFSET performance in PostgreSQL

http://www.depesz.com/2011/05/20/pagination-with-fixed-order/

How to get a row-by-row MySQL ResultSet in python Server Side Cursor in MySQL

Edits:

Django 1.6 is adding persistent database connections

Django Database Persistent Connections

This should facilitate, under some conditions, using cursors. Still it's outside my current skills (and time to learn) how to implement such a solution..

Also, the "better solution" definitely does not work in all situations and cannot be used as a generic approach, only a stub to be adapted case by case...

https://codehunter.cc/a/django/memory-efficient-constant-and-speed-optimized-iteration-over-a-large-table-in-django

[cola-canine]

System Shock 2 is good. Only real complaint was that I was not a fan of walking around in circles in a big fleshy map at the end - my sense of direction just left the building during all that. Navigation is a bit of an issue towards the end of the game but overall, exploring a research station gone awry is always a blast. Alternate ammo types were actually useful. Wish I learned that you could unload ammo from weapons you picked up by just simply right clicking on them, though - feel that’s on me, however. Because lemme tell you, I was scraping the bottom of the barrel for ammo at the end. Game really makes you pick your fights carefully. Favored the pistol and shotgun mostly, AR and EMP rifle were locked behind the highest weapon tier so I had to work for those. Melee weapons were practically useless - it doesn’t hit where your cursor is rather than where the animation swing hits.

Enemy designs were unique in both designs and approach. The hybrids are genuinely terrifying when they catch you off guard. Monkey’s are annoying at first but then they get a Psi upgrade and then they can really fuck your shit up - at least they’re weak. Turrets and cameras are bastards - the game really knows how to trick you into a false sense of security and I enjoy that. The enemies are easy to identify too, a lot of humanoid-like enemies but they all pass the silhouette test. Hybrids, for example, have three variants: A melee one, a shotgun one, and a grenade one. Melee and shotgun one look very similar because of the large pipe and shotgun the two carry respectively. Except, if you pay attention to the lower half of their bodies they’re modeled differently. Easy to make a split-second reaction if they get up close and surprise you too because the pipe one’s face is more sad and sunken whereas the shotgunner’s is more boney and tight, like as if it’s a thin layer of paper over a skull. Grenade one is easy, big army jacket with hands free.

Didn’t use any of the Psyonics, just stuck with firearms. Maybe that’ll change in a future playthrough. I dunno, the ones they gave you in the tutorial were kinda lame so I just didn’t put any of my cybernetic modules into them.

Could go a bit more into detail but don’t wanna spoil everything for those who might be interested. 7/10, it’s influence on the genre hasn’t gone unnoticed.

[tactileprogress]

PROJECT ONE

Code under cut

import processing.serial.*;

int lf = 10; // Linefeed in ASCII String myString = null; Serial myPort; // The serial port

float flex = 0; float pot = 0; int butt1 = 0; int butt2 = 0;

boolean butt1low; boolean butt2low;

float xtarget = 300; float ytarget = 450; int highY = 410;

int spotSize = 4; int spotColor = 7;

void setup() { size(630, 600); background(255); String portName = Serial.list()[1]; myPort = new Serial(this, portName, 9600); highY = 410; }

void draw() { if(keyPressed){ if(key == ' '){ background(255); } } //getting data from the serial port into my setup while (myPort.available() > 0) { myString = myPort.readStringUntil(lf); if (myString != null) { myString.trim(); String newStr = trim(myString); int[] data = int(split(newStr, ',')); //println(data); if (data.length >= 4) { flex = data[0]; pot = data[1]; butt1 = data[2]; butt2 = data[3]; } } //this is my diagnostics for the sensors print(flex); print(" "); print(pot); print(" "); print(butt1); print(" "); print(butt2); print("|"); print(ytarget); print(" "); println(highY);xtarget = map(pot, 0, 1023, width-50, 50); //average changes with setup- find the average? maybe? or just do it manually ytarget = map(flex, 375, 450, 0, 1000); //if highest Y is less than current y, then high y should update if(highY > ytarget){ highY = round(ytarget); } if(butt1 == 0){ butt1low = true; } if(butt2 == 0){ butt2low = true; } if (butt1 == 1 && butt1low == true) { if (spotSize <= 3) { spotSize += 1; butt1low = false; } else if (spotSize == 4) { spotSize = 1; butt1low = false; } } if (butt2 == 1 && butt2low == true) { if (spotColor <= 6) { spotColor += 1; butt2low = false; } else if (spotColor == 7) { spotColor = 1; butt2low = false; } }

}

//this is the code for determining the color/size of the ellipse if(ytarget < 400){ noStroke(); if (spotColor == 1) { fill(255, 0, 0); } else if (spotColor == 2) { fill(250, 140, 25); } else if (spotColor == 3) { fill(255, 255, 0); } else if (spotColor == 4) { fill(0, 255, 0); } else if (spotColor == 5) { fill(0, 0, 255); } else if (spotColor == 6) { fill(200, 100, 255); } else if (spotColor == 7) { fill(255, 150, 200); } //use current x coord and highest y coord, then reset highY ellipse(xtarget, highY, 20spotSize, 20spotSize); highY = 410; } //this section is my UI noFill(); stroke(0); strokeWeight(10); rect(30, 0, 570, 500); fill(125); noStroke(); rect(0,0,30,height); rect(600,0,30,height); rect(0, 500, width, 100);//color of indicator circle if (spotColor == 1) { fill(255, 0, 0); } else if (spotColor == 2) { fill(250, 140, 25); } else if (spotColor == 3) { fill(255, 255, 0); } else if (spotColor == 4) { fill(0, 255, 0); } else if (spotColor == 5) { fill(0, 0, 255); } else if (spotColor == 6) { fill(200, 100, 255); } else if (spotColor == 7) { fill(255, 150, 200); } //this is the indicator ellipse ellipse(50, 550, 20*spotSize, 20*spotSize); fill(0); //left/right indicator triangle(xtarget,500,xtarget-5,510,xtarget+5,510); //up/down indicator triangle(15,highY,10,highY-5,10,highY+5);

//funtionality to add //targeting system //>xaxis pot* //>yaxis flex ~ //>release of slingshot - find the overshoot ~ //cursor * //color picker * //size picker *

}

//Arduino Code

//int flexRead; //int potRead; //int butt1Read; //int butt2Read;

//void setup() { // pinMode(12, INPUT); // pinMode(13,INPUT); // Serial.begin(9600); //}

//void loop() { // flexRead = analogRead(A0); // potRead = analogRead(A1); // butt1Read = digitalRead(13); // butt2Read = digitalRead(12);

// Serial.print(flexRead);//send as ascii // Serial.print(","); //seperate with comma // Serial.print(potRead); // Serial.print(","); // Serial.print(butt1Read); // Serial.print(","); // Serial.println(butt2Read); //final is println // delay(25); //}

[traceyelizabethwebbassociates]

Unconscious Bias:  Danger and Tragedy

We define unconscious bias as:  Unrecognized or unacknowledged prejudicial beliefs or stereotypes.  These “hidden” biases are dangerous because they can literally and figuratively become weaponized and result in irreperable damage. b

How many women, people of color, differently abled folk, non-binary, gay, or trans people have felt the sting of bias?  I venture that every member of one of these marginalized groups has experienced the pain of an attack upon them due to bias.  

Willful hatred is one thing--the person is completely conscious and aware of their beliefs and utter them with the intention of harming someone or disparaging an entire group of people. Unconscious bias is often the product of our upbringing or socialization.  We are taught to harbor false beliefs based on either outright fabrication or based upon ignorance.  We all harbor unconscious bias, but some to a greater and more dangerous extent than others. 

When internal bias goes unacknowledged, it often comes out in very harmful ways that result in real damage being done to careers, lives, and the psyche of those at whom it is directed.  Even if the bias shows up in the form of a seemingly small slight, the damage is real and it is cumulative.  As one client says,”it is like a thousand paper cuts.”  

But there are times when unconscious bias costs lives.  The recently publicized murders or attacks on so many people of color at the hands of citizens or law enforcement is prima facie evidence of hate.  However, consider that there is a seemingly less innocuous pre-cursor to hate:  Not acknowldeging your very false perceptions about another group.  If you don’t do the work to uncover and to work through your biases, you will harm many people.  It is inevitable.

For example, there are so many stories of people of color being targeted for being in a particular neighborhood, because “how could they possibly belong here”.  Or being told, as my stepfather was at one point, that “You are very different kinds of Blacks.”  Our neighbor, a very prominent white psychologist, could not fathom how a Black family could live in the Berkeley Hills (California) and thrive.  He chose to “other” us--to somehow make us the exception.  I have never forgotten that moment.  It still hurts.  This is bias.  It was racist.  But knowing our neighbor, he most likely meant no harm, in fact he probably thought his statement to be a compliment.  But intent doesn’t matter.  The impact counts.

Our neighbor needed to do the work to check his own bias.  He had no right and no privilege to say those words to my stepfather.  If he had chosen to examine his beliefs, he would have understood that he had very negative perceptions of Black folk.  Maybe he knew what he was doing and he was deliberately trying to be exclusive.  But what he was really saying was that you have to be more like me, more white in affect, in order to fit in here without question.  That is bias, unconscious or not.

So how do we confront our unconscious bias?  We make the effort to seek out and take validated tests which measure bias (see implicit.harvard.edu).  We read about unconscious bias.  We journal about our true beliefs about other groups and we question the foundation of those precepts.  We have critical and guided conversations with others as we educate ourselves to do better and to be better.

Unconscious bias is not innocuous.  It can snuff out the light and creativity in a person’s soul and it can literally kill.

[gplewis]

not sure this can be organized

i’ll try to make a picture like you did for me: us dancing, fenced, birds not flying away yet (departure is the easiest thing; always a glistening hundred other squawks to attend, to feign fascination—but you, this fire, this shared language we push around with four hands and twenty fingers...this is the height, the place to stay as long as you can, before the rest of life drags us away, and of course we’ll both go our separate ways, and life will be better than ever, because we see with new eyes, a calmer and more sharpened inner voice ~ we can always meet back there, here, [every blinking cursor will remind me of you for a while]

now if the rest of this makes you think i'm mad, i'm really not, i'm happy for you and your growth, your life, your finesse and dark sweetness like bitter blackberry laced with vanilla or lavender, rosemary ...

the art (and stammering, stuttering, false starts, evasions, mental reaches, furious creation of stepping stones, running out to the horizon, dissolving into the sky) of being in and burnt by and getting over a crush, walking through the fire (I'm not too old, truth knows no age, the lust and aristocracy of passionate souls will never die, and hopefully we'll be 90 and won't forget this today, this summer, separation and anguish, glory and melting, the highs and lows, going to sleep, thinking of you—making it into just another posting, another 10-song night like i did for years and will keep doing; another brick in the beautiful mosaic fever of the artists of the world; i shall be worthy of being human

now cheating on her Franz Ferdinand - Cheating On You oh how I predate my future sins how I cite references to justify, to explain; Don DeLillo - Americana, the fever of a young male creative trying to totalize, make his heartthrob total, into a total art onscreen that (per Oscar Wilde's Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray) would make critics disagree and create a diversity of conflicting reactions ~ then the artist is in accord with himself because it was his work that gave people new words and reasons to gather to declare the same old truth: we're fucked up

It is easy to say I love you, I might say more. We could talk tonight, as this crush, this spell we are both under due to each other and music and the pandemonium in the world (the European continent is dear to me, and North America strange and mysterious to you, and the secrets of our hearts connect us both through our bodies and minds, mouths and fingers (I already wrote more I didn't send

audio, sound, intimacy, being held there; these feelings I have (electromagnetic fluctuations in the unstable planet of my heart) will be notes for a novel, for theories, for Work, because that (along with Work and Work) are what life in the arts is about: disappearance into the form; becoming like everybody else through being completely yourself

I have so much I want to tell you. I went to bed last night thinking of kissing you, holding you, snuggling, these feelings are real and the possibilities of union are probably just as good as any two people who like the same music and have a similar sense of humor and are attracted to each other, which is something, it would be fun, I would love to see you if we were close, it wouldn't even be cheating on your long-term boyfriend and partner, a hug, I want to smell you, kiss you on the cheek, maybe the forehead too. I think we could talk on the phone tonight, fir today might be the last burning day of this crush

ichimural loved: No I In Threesome gplewis + ichimural https://www.smule.com/recording/interpol-no-i-in-threesome/2310094151_4424820988

it's amazing I then go to speak and possess all the finesse of music, a true poet, you're a mirror and a muse

[basilly]

reader coming out as gay || irl!sbi x male!reader

request: hello, could i ask for a platonic fluffy sbi and bench trio reacting to reader coming out as gay and that they have a s/o with he/him pronouns, i love the way you write i wish to have your talent

note: tysm love, i was only able to do sbi, my brain just physically couldn’t do bench trio as well

you could also substitute ‘gay’ as any other sexuality! its quite vague

pronouns: he/him

hovering your cursor over the cluster of names, you nervously sat there, debating back and forth whether or not to join the vc. you had a goal today, one you had meant to complete for a while. you were pushing back coming out to your closest friends even though you knew they would be nothing but supportive, the nerves couldn’t help but overcome those feelings. suddenly, as if your body was encouraging you, a sudden surge of confidence filled your veins, causing your finger to click down.

wilbur: “y/n? is that you?” y/n: “yea, it’s me, hi guys-” tommy: “y/n! tell wilbur that i can get lots of girlfriends if i wanted-” techno: “tommy calm down, he just got here.” philza: “hey y/n! how’s it going?” y/n: “it’s going alright, it’s been a stressful day.” philza: “you okay mate?” y/n: “mm i’ll be okay”

your breath hitched, wondering when it was a good idea to let them know. deciding to stay silent for a bit, you let them carry on as usual, tommy bickering with wilbur, philza laughing, techno watching unamused.

tommy being tommy, making sure everyone was included, reached out first.

tommy: “hey y/n, are you alright? you haven’t said anything in a while-”

taking in a deep breath, the words you had been waiting to say just tumbled right out of your mouth.

“uhm, i don’t really know how to say this but,, i’m gay- and i have a s/o”

the boys sat for a split second, not even hesitating to break into smiles.

tommy: “that’s poggers-” wilbur: “i’m proud of you for coming out, you’ll always be supported here.” philza: “yea- thanks for letting us know, have you known for long?” techno: “wait a s/o?” tommy: “Y/N! YOU SHOULD LET ME MEET YOUR S/O!”

as you exhaled, you received an immediate wave of relief, your body and posture relaxing. after tommy had quickly calmed down, he spoke again.

tommy: “no but in all seriousness y/n, we will support you, always” techno: “yea- what the child said, we would never stop being friends with you because of it” y/n: “thanks you guys, i appreciate it- and tommy, maybe in the future you can meet them” tommy: “i’ll have you know, everyone loves me-” wilbur: “false.” tommy: “HEY!”

a loud laugh let out of your lips for the first time that day, glad to have them by your side. 

taglist below!

taglist: @acidtabletz @mayasimagines @dilucs-cum-sock @mitzimania @peachynightz-main @unomomonono @fluff-goblin2 @kai-was-here @xoxothornbudoxox @b3l0v3ds @truthfulsyncerity @forutheworld @losingvienna @luluwinchester @cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc @dreamiewrites @a-simp-for-block-people @dysfunctionalcrab @ella-ivanov @akasuki @bioluminescentfrog @brainsanalysis @momo-has-a-gun  @korylyzed @etherealexsistence @sleepysoupi @notgeoreg @ialexabsuniverse @disastrousdream​ @inniterhq @bugthegremlin @spoonz @god1ngs @sabinanotfound @stuffforreferences @crybabyjabby​ @mack4676 @esylwen @notphilosopherstudentblog  @oh-mcyt @dirty-candie @ohhonk​ @yamturds​ @chubbity​ @ttakinou​ @ghostburlovebot @w1lbursu1t @dropkickedanorphaninselfdefense @yoshi-rikuaeshetic

[photiniainsummer]

Something Worth Celebrating

Rating: General Audiences (basically GenFic)

Summary: Dark admits he sort of, kind of has a birthday. And then he sort of, kind of asks you to throw him a party.

I know. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

(Basically a purely indulgent fic where Dark gets to be happy for 0.2 seconds. Yes, it's late, please forgive me, Mr. Darkiplier sir.)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 4906

Author’s Note: No warnings. Honestly just tooth-rotting tenderness. This is a super-late birthday 'present' for our favorite spooky ego that I just couldn't get out of my head. Also posted to AO3!

The thought strikes you in the midst of your weekly scan of Mark’s content. While Dark makes sure to check his uploads and social media presence moment-to-moment, you often join his weekly wrap-up review sessions as a second, fresh set of eyes. It’s usually a silent and uneventful affair, with Dark sitting at his desk and you to one side of it, both focused on the week’s batch of content as it projects on the opposite wall. Hooking up the projector was easier than hunching over Dark’s laptop, the two of you bunched together around the screen, and it usually meant you could catch and examine any irregularities with greater accuracy. Not that there had been any for months. Mark’s content has become suspiciously unsuspicious, with no odd shot changes in the middle of playthroughs, no sideways comments in food reviews… and so your mind has started wandering during your viewings.

It’s not that his content is boring. But it’s hard to enjoy Mark’s lighthearted commentary, really, knowing the man for what he is: a manipulative, body-snatching, undead creature bent on conquering the hearts and minds of the world. That kind of imposing terror makes it hard to kick back and enjoy him goofing through a new horror game.

And, yet, despite that same terror, it’s difficult to stay fully focused on the task at hand. Maybe it’s the lack of weirdness lulling you into being unobservant - maybe that’s Mark’s goal. Regardless, he makes a jokey comment, surprised by a new onslaught of enemies so soon after receiving a new weapon - “What, is it my birthday?” - and though he proceeds to casually mow down a fresh flood of zombies, your mind is nowhere near his running monologue. No, you’re off on a tangent of wonderings - When exactly is his birthday, anyway? Is it soon? Do the egos share his, or do they have their own, if they know it? When would they celebrate it, anyway? Did Mark build in birthdays for them when he summoned them up, or was it whatever day they were formed from some strange, shadowy process you still don’t know the specifics of? It’s a strange and vaguely sad thing to ponder, your mouth turning down at the corners as you roll it around in your mind. To your side, Dark sighs softly, reaching out to pause the current video. Mark’s face freezes in an unflattering expression, and you turn to look at the entity.

“What, think of something?”

“No,” he demurs, scrubbing the video back. “But you are distracted. What do you last remember?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is a little surprising. Where a few months ago he would have bitten off a sharp comment about your wandering attention, he just gives you a mild look when you don’t immediately respond, hands hovering at his computer. It speaks to how routine this has become for you both, how each of you has grown accustomed to the other - the ringing of his aura barely registers for you now, although you were certain when you arrived that investing in a lifetime supply of ibuprofen was a basic requirement for working in close proximity to Dark for any extended period of time.

That’s when the thought strikes you - you meandering thoughts crystallizing around his presence, centering on him. You have to wonder how much of your thought process Dark actually heard, if your idle thoughts are loud enough for him to pick up. But seeing as he’s not making any attempt to immediately answer, nor chide you for thinking about such unimportant things, the thought, as a question, easily tumbles out between you.

“Do you have a birthday?”

He immediately furrows his brow, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“I said, do you have a birthday?” you repeat, committing to this line of questioning. You go so far as to turn slightly in your chair to look at him better, attention fully directed at him. Dark sighs and turns back to the computer, picking a spot in the video a couple of minutes ago, certainly farther back than necessary.

“I heard what you said,” he clarifies. “I am attempting to understand what could have possibly brought that up.”

“He said something about his birthday. It just got me thinking, that’s all.” Dark pauses, squinting his eyes ever so slightly at the screen. His cursor hovers over the playback bar, obviously considering his next move. You pause with him, then a smile tugs at your mouth. “You missed that, didn’t you.”

“I did not. It was merely an inane comment, so I did not take note of it.” He’s a little too indignant, too quick with that response, and it makes you laugh. He shoots you a patented glare, although it carries very little true malice. “When did he say that.”

“A couple minutes forward, it’s right after he gets that new gun.” Dark hums in response, clearly still miffed at having been successfully teased, but in a good-natured sort of way. You watch him scrub for the right spot, lulling back into a comfortable silence for a few moments before you remember what brought all this up and press on. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Don’t be obtuse, come on. Do you have a birthday?”

“They had birthdays,” he remarks. You recall them, or, at least, a picture of them, the only one you’ve seen that isn’t a staged portrait. You like it better than the stiff, properly posed photographs Dark hesitantly showed you once, when he had finally explained his origins to you. In the one you preferred to remember, a well-dressed woman and man hug each other close as they smile warmly into the camera. It’s some holiday, or just an excuse to get together - there are garlands blurred in the background - and the woman is holding a fancy-looking drink in the hand that isn’t wrapped around behind her brother, tugging him into frame. He looks a bit put-upon, smiling almost embarrassedly as if the woman has cajoled him in front of the cameraperson into taking a picture with her. But his expression, for all it implies, is still warm. His body curls close to his sister, his hold on her obviously affectionate. The woman is beaming like she’s won, squeezing her brother close as her cheeks apple, her painted lips curled in such pride. Her eyes dance, catching the light of the camera’s flash. They look comfortable, happy, beautiful. Full of life. The woman’s smile had pulled one out of you, when you saw it.

Dark’s explanation of how he had come to be makes the memory all the sadder, the melancholia curling around your throat even as you remember it now.

“I, on the other hand, was not born,” he explains, and for a moment you begin to regret bringing it up. But the shadow-bathed man doesn’t seem bothered, his tone matter-of-fact, simple. You know it pains him still, you saw the look on his face as he described how he had come to be, how his aura had raged around him like he was going to pull apart. How their faces had appeared in agonized red and blue flashes behind him - now that you knew what you were looking for, you could see them as themselves, not just as Dark.

Which makes the fact he can say something that directly referential without threatening to rip through existence sort of comforting. Is he just comfortable with you, now, knowing that you know? Whatever it is, you decide it’s a good thing, and settle back in your chair. “Well, sure, not as such, but… do you celebrate theirs?” you ask, as gently as you can.

“I do not.” Dark finds the proper place in the video, advancing to it.

“So you don’t celebrate you… coming into being, on any particular day?”

“I do not.” You squint slightly.

“You don’t,” you repeat. Dark sighs once more, bringing a hand to his brow in the way he does when Wilford is being particularly taxing.

“No. I do not. But the… fans. Do.” It’s an answer given through gritted teeth - the man finds the celebration of him and his many appearances in Mark’s work frustrating, to put it simply. Of course, he’s completely committed to his role as the villain the actor dreamed of, and won’t lie and say he doesn’t find it utterly amusing how Mark’s own fans seem to like him more than the actor himself. But all that is tinged with the truth of his conscription into this role, the indignity of being painted as the wicked mirror image of the man who took everything from him. It is particularly insulting, particularly painful. So to have some false version of him celebrated and adored, is…

Well, to use his words: Disgusting.

You would go for complicated, instead. It does feels strange to have them celebrate a fictionalized version of the entity next to you, given the reality of the situation, but it’s not like you can fault them for what they don’t know. They’re caught up in Mark’s game - it isn’t their fault. Still, you aren’t really surprised they found a whole day to put aside for the man.

“What day did they pick?”

“Hm?” Dark seems caught up in some internal brooding, set off by the memories of the fanart he’s seen. You prod again.

“What day is it? That they made your ‘birthday’?”

He pauses a moment, considering. You can tell he knows, he’s just debating whether or not to tell you. Whether or not this will have unintended consequences. “June 19th. It was the first time Mark posted something… strange enough to be counted as my first ‘appearance.’ So it is my birthday, by their reckoning.” He pauses again. “I suppose it is as good a day as any. Although I do not understand it - why would someone want to celebrate my existence?”

His tone takes this bitter, harsh edge, and you instinctively want to cringe against it. But you also know how Dark hates you trying to be delicate with him. It’s better to be honest, to know his reactions are not for you, but for his situation. For Mark. So you suppress the desire to turn away from it, instead reaching across the bit of desk between you to touch his arm. He doesn’t react, apart from flicking his eyes to rest on your hand. Touching him like this, yours fades to take on the same black-and-white cast as his own.

“For what it’s worth, I’d want to celebrate it. I’m glad you’re here.” You squeeze him very gently, as if trying to impress that more fully into his mind. “And… they don’t really know you, but, I mean. I think they’d like you even more, want to celebrate you more, if they did.”

Dark is silent, gaze falling to a whorl of wood in his polished desk as he considers your words. He doesn’t immediately reply and you take your hand away, not wanting to be overly touchy-feely about the whole thing. Or, at least, you don’t want to be if that’s not what Dark wants. You’d be the first to console him, if you could, but it’s hard to get a read on what might help the man most. He lives in his head, unaccustomed to sharing much with the other egos, let alone someone who hasn’t directly been through what they have. Your position on the outside imposes a distance that even having worked so closely with him for so long hasn’t yet bridged. Still, you leave that door open for him whenever you gracefully can, whenever it doesn’t feel like you’re opening it to force him through.

You try show him he can walk through whenever he likes. If he likes.

The man shifts slightly, reaching out to adjust a small pile of papers. He puts them to rights, even though they’re already perfectly in line with each other. When he finally speaks, his voice is almost covered by its own deep echo.

“If I am honest, I meant more… why would they celebrate the man they see, the ‘Darkiplier’ in his works? He is not a good man, by any means. He tells the truth, Mark’s confidence in himself sees to that. But they do not know it. He seems to seek to trap the audience through lies, manipulation… I simply do not understand the appeal.” You feel a little caught out, wondering if you jumped a bit too eagerly on his statement as a chance to comfort him. “However…”

He stops, realizing he’s run out of papers to arrange, things to fidget with. Folding his colorless hands in front of him, he finally and intentionally turns to look your way. It’s a slow, steady motion, heavy with purpose. When you meet his intensely contrasted eyes, they fall gently on you. His expression is open, almost bare. Devoid of any bitterness, frustration - his usual armor.

“...it is incredibly kind of you to say that. About me. I. I sincerely appreciate it.”

The hesitancy in his voice, yet how honestly he continues on, intent on telling you this… It’s enough to break your heart. You give him a tender smile.

“You’re not exactly that man in those videos, Dark. Not the way he has you play it, know you well enough to tell that… But even if you were, you have reason enough for it, I’d wager.”

That gets you a wry smile from the man. “Enough reason to pull ourselves back from the dead?”

You laugh, softly. “Yeah, something like that.” At your mirth, the lines of his body begin to relax, and he eases back into his seat somewhat. It’s a rare sight, Dark letting himself relax, be still for a moment. Even his aura, ever-roiling, merely seems to ebb and flow around him in gentle pulses. His mouth stays gently turned up as he looks at nothing in particular, gaze easy on some middle distance. You can tell he’s thinking, even at minor peace like this, but has no real intention to speak again. Sensing the Big Heart-To-Heart Moment™ has passed, you sigh and look back over your sparse notes. “Should we get back to it, though? I totally derailed us.”

Dark pauses a bit longer in the moment before he idly waves a hand and reaches out to close the lid of his computer. “There is nothing interesting this week, really. I think we can call it there, unless you are especially invested in head-exploding physics.” You pull a face.

“Not particularly. I can finish going over it later, anyway. Just in case.” You stretch and twist in your chair with a sigh. “Think I’ll make some coffee - can I get you a cup?”

“Are you going to use the cafetiere?”

“No, I thought the Mr. Coffee would be better. Really gets it nice and watery, just like you like.” Dark scrunches up his nose in the most totally undignified way, and god that makes you belly-laugh, bending slightly over the desk to support yourself. It breaks him, getting a real smile to curl over his face. He can be such a goofball, when he wants to be. “Of course I was gonna use the cafetiere. Who do you take me for?”

“I have to check, I have had many a disappointing cup after agreeing too eagerly. But yes, I will take one, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” you hum, coming down from your laughing fit. You make your way out of his office but before you can turn the corner, Dark calls your name, stopping you in the doorway. You look back to him, and he seems… at ease. His hands are folded across his middle, he’s resting back in his desk chair. The ghost of a smile is still on his face. You try to bottle that moment, preserve it mentally. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Again. And…” He hesitates for a beat, making some decision. “If you or the others would like to do something. On the day. My… sort-of birthday… I would not be opposed.”

You force your jaw to stay in place and not hit the floor. Wilford will go ballistic. You don’t know if the mustachioed ego will be able to handle the thought of throwing Dark a real birthday party - he might just explode in a haze of confetti and glitter stars. Blinking, you right yourself, finding your head nodding before you even know what it’s doing.

“I. Y-Yeah! Sure, we. We could definitely do that. Do… something.” Dark just smiles a little more fully, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll. I’ll talk to them about it.”

Holy shit.

“Wonderful. It will be nice to have a reason to have a proper party. Something to celebrate. Don’t you think?” You’re nodding again, agreeing wholeheartedly, but dazedly, too. You don’t realize you’re just standing there sort of staring until Dark tilts his head thoughtfully to one side. “Is… coffee still happening?”

“Huh?” You remember. “Oh. Oh! Shi- I mean, shoot. I mean. Yes. Yeah. I. Coffee, yes. I’m… gonna do that.”

As you beat a hasty and red-faced retreat to the kitchen, bursting with ideas, you can just make out the man giving the faintest, echoing chuckle.

---

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such pure excitement in the Manor before. The air is practically buzzing with pure, unbridled energy as you approach Dark’s office door. Downstairs, you can hear the egos making final preparations underneath Wilford’s speaking in an overly dramatic tone, giving some kind of grand speech. Likely a rallying of the troops into being on their best behavior for their de facto leader. You can’t help a smile and a shake of your head - maybe he’d take his own advice tonight.

Either way, everything is ready, so you rap on the birthday boy’s outer office door. He’d graciously locked himself away after retrieving his morning coffee so you would all have the space to prepare. Of course, he hadn’t escaped early-morning birthday wishes from you and the Host, nor a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers you two had collected for him. You’d even carried them up to his office for him, just so he wouldn’t have to touch them himself and risk draining their color. The memory of how sort of bashful he’d looked, the you really shouldn’t have energy that had rolled off him as he directed you to set them on his desk - it makes you grin in anticipation for this evening as he calls for you to enter, now.

He’s sitting by the fireplace, apparently killing time with a book which he looks up from as you enter. An inquiring look pulls his brow. “All prepared?”

“Oh yes. Your party awaits you, sir.” Dark huffs a laugh and rises, setting his book aside. He’s dressed a bit differently, still in slacks and a tie but with the addition of a waistcoat closely fit over his dress shirt, which is slightly rolled up over his forearms. Then he begins to fix them, going for his jacket, and you have to interject. “Are you really going to wear a full suit to your party?”

Dark stops, looking confused. And a little concerned. “I. Was intending to, yes.”

Oops. “I mean, you always wear a suit,” you chide as gently as you can. “They look nice, but the whole point is celebrating, relaxing a little? Besides, you look nice just like that.” Dark pauses, casting a look over himself. He absently adjusts his waistcoat, and you notice a thin chain connected to one of the buttons loops into one pocket. Has he always had a pocket watch?

“You are certain it is not too… casual.” He almost sounds worried, the poor thing. You give him a reassuring smile as you approach, picking up his jacket and folding it with care before hanging it over your arm.

“I’ll bring it down, but I think you’ll be more comfortable like that. Though you aren’t totally dressed, yet.” The man gives you an utterly baffled look, and you grin in response, bringing out a brightly colored party hat. His look sours immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No. I am already being made to go down undressed, I will not go with bells on.”

Sometimes you forget he’s just a grumpy grandpa. You pull out the big guns. “Well… we’re all wearing them,” you hum, your own firmly in place. “Besides, Wilford insisted. And he’s the Decoration Czar. Self-proclaimed, but he rules with an iron fist.” Dark makes a valiant effort to hold onto his resolve, but it weakens in the face of you invoking the mustachioed man. With a soft, amorphous grumble, he pulls the elastic band of the hat under his chin.

Now that you understand a little more about how Dark and Wilford had come to be, their bond makes a lot more sense, even for all Dark’s frustrated looks shot the more light-hearted man’s way in the midst of meetings. Even before you knew the depth of their bond, Dark had always seemed surprisingly willing to go along with Wilford’s more doable requests, less inclined to irritatedly snip at him for his foolishness. As Dark adjusts his party hat in a nearby mirror (making sure his well-coiffed hair isn’t too disturbed by his headwear), you’re glad that, although Wilford may not fully be aware of it, the two of them have each other.

He drops his hands with a sigh. “I look ridiculous.” He’s positioned the cone-shaped hat directly pointing up in the middle of his head, and. Well. It looks way too proper, but very Dark all at once. You chuckle, coming close to help.

“You should see the den. It’s a wreck,” you tease, reaching for his hat, giving the man enough time to wave you off. But he doesn’t, just watching you in the mirror as you adjust it (careful of his curls) to a more jaunty angle. His aura has already absorbed the color from it, but it looks party-appropriate. More importantly, Dark seems a bit more at ease as he gets used to how it looks. You wonder if he’s ever worn a party hat in his life. “There, much better.”

“Hm. Then I suppose I am ready.”

“As you’ll ever be. C’mon, they’re all waiting.” When he turns from the mirror, you playfully offer him your arm. You think you’ll get an eyeroll, a dismissive but amused huff at best. You aren’t anticipating him looping his arm in yours and giving you this little smile that warms his eyes and has you pulling up short. He chuckles somewhat at your reaction, your lack of movement.

“I thought I was being escorted.”

“Uh. You. You are, oh, you definitely are, hold on to your socks, you’re about to experience the best escorting of your life.” Dark’s free hand comes up to help suppress the grin that threatens to split his face as you lead him from the office and down to the almost overwhelmingly decorated den. While the room is comfortably illuminated by a variety of the Manor’s most colorful lamps, the light is somewhat low and catches on the sparkling garlands heavily draped on the walls. Matching balloons bob at varying intervals and a rousing cheer goes up as you and Dark enter, a flood of grins turning your way. Music cuts on - something upbeat and jazzy - and the flock of egos quickly descends on the object of celebration, Wilford leading the charge and pressing a drink into the man’s hand after a massive bear hug. You release Dark’s arm to let the crowd of other egos at him, covering him in birthday wishes and affectionate pats on the back (their boldness inspired by Wilford, no doubt), before eagerly showing off all their preparations.

While Yancy explains the variety of possible games he’s worked up, getting a horribly wry grin out of the shadowy man at his creation of ‘pin the cravat on the Actor,’ you step back a bit to make sure Dark’s suit jacket is safely out of the way of the night’s oncoming revelry. Clearly, he’s already forgotten it, much to your pleasure. The bar is lined up with a few drink options, pre-made cocktails and bottles of wine opened to breathe, a number of elegantly arranged finger foods courtesy of resident chef Google Alpha. Carefully, you tuck Dark’s jacket under the bar in an empty shelf and before scooping up a drink of your own and tossing yourself back into the fray.

It goes a lot more smoothly than you had anticipated - everyone quickly falls into comfortable conversation, dipping into the snacks and games when it lulls. Wilford manages to keep his pants on despite threatening to provide a different kind of ‘entertainment’ at one point (and in spite of encouraging whistles from Bing and the Jims, who are quick to shove a camera in Wil’s direction). Further, Dark survives having ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to him, even blowing out the single candle in the middle of the complicated-looking tiramisu Alpha crafted.

It’s a rousing success, by all measures.

By the time you finally get a chance to sidle back up to Dark, the easy hum of the party has kicked up to a bit more of an excitable buzz as the jazz records have turned more and more swinging. Yandere and Illinois clearly know what they’re doing, beating a quick step around the open dance floor and grinning like bandits as Yancy does his best to help poor Eric get over the hurdle of not staring at your feet when you dance. The Manor feels more full than it usually does, with all of you crowded in the one room together, and you can see the warm, pure energy of it all is having a similar effect on Dark as it is on you - you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so much, small as they are.

Another thought hits you, even better than the one that prompted this whole affair. Grinning, you quickly gesture over the nearest Google. With the music like it is, it’s hard to speak over the ruckus, but you mime taking a picture and Green gets the idea, his glasses getting a particular sheen to them so you know he’s flipping through his interface. Once he gives you a thumbs up, you gently tug Dark down by the arm and gesture in Green’s direction. “Say ‘cheese,’” you prompt, and the shadowy man pulls a face.

“I don’t think-”

“Oh, just one, Dark, c’mon,” you poke. “He’s set up and everything.” With a sort of resigned huff, the man twists and gets his free arm around you, hand resting carefully on your back as you get yours around him, bringing him in closer.

Then, almost in your ear, you hear his very dour voice say, “Cheese...” and it breaks you. You’re busting out laughing, forcing yourself not to double over or spill your drink, and over the music and your own laughter, you can hear Dark chuckling, the subsequent snap of Green’s camera feature. The latter catches the most attention, the gathered egos coming running as soon as they realize pictures are happening.

Suddenly, everyone wants in, smushing in as close as they can get to you and Dark, bickering when elbows ‘accidentally’ find soft sides and someone worms in front of someone else, Green taking pictures all the while of the ensuing chaos. Dark’s aura is starting to rouse from its relatively peaceful state when you decide it’s gone on long enough. You quickly clap and break up the worst of the infighting, getting folks arranged as best you can. By the time you finish and most everyone is settled, Dark is wearing a very betrayed look and Wilford’s heavy arm, which is hugging him quite close to his side. With a playful shrug, you pick your way back to your spot.

“I thought you said one,” he grumps softly even as you both get your arms situated comfortably around the other.

“You believed me?” His eyes get a bit wide - you trick Dark? You trick him into photograph like the child? - but you turn away with a triumphant smile. “Green, set your glasses on the bar, get in!”

The android quickly obliges, setting the timer and sliding in among his copies as he counts you down. “Okay,” you call, “everyone say ‘Darkling!’”

The cacophony of laughter and broken-up attempts at the word is something you’ll never forget.

---

Google sends you the photos the next morning, as the Manor collectively attempts to nurse minor to severe hangovers. Flipping through and marking the best ones to print and frame, you get to see the first one of the two of you.

In it, you’re hugging each other close, smiling warmly into the camera. There are garlands blurred in the background and you’re holding a fancy drink, tugging Dark into frame. That slightly embarrassed tinge is gone from his smile, but he still looks cajoled, still smiles as affectionately as he ever has. There’s no doubt he’s changed - the photo warps to try to capture his existence, red and blue fragments breaking up the image - but his expression is still warm. And you look so pleased with yourself, so amused, eyes dancing with success and joy.

Full of life.

It pulls a smile out of you.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Runaway Room (Part 1b)

Last time: We (and by we I mean Ryunosuke and Susato) arrived in England, and were almost immediately sent to play lawyer by Daemon Gant’s ancestor, who is definitely going to either die or kill someone later. Despite our client being only the richest of able bodied white men, we quickly found ourselves on the ropes thanks to the worlds least impartial jury. Fortunately we now get to put the buggers on the spot and demand they give us their reasons for convicting my client (and boy had they better be good).

Ryunosuke, the more we learn about that man the more of a cad he becomes. I say we should be very thankful we aren’t doing that.

Let me get this straight, instead of smashing their half baked ideas to smithereens and laughing as I go, I have to use the worlds weakest bricks to build my argument.

Susato, one of them knows one of the witnesses.

Oh, so that’s what we’re doing.

Ok, Ryunosuke, lets get shit stirring!

Well firstly, either the drunk juror’s wrong or Beppo’s overcharging people, so jot that down.

Ooh, we’re pacing!

(Also, I’d like to thank Juror No.4 for backing me up, ma’am you are the only member of this group bothering to make even the slightest bit of effort. For this I thank you.)

Of course! Thank you for putting two and two together like that for me!

(Wait a second, I’ve just realized that we’ve got the KBS slung on our hip! That’s amazing!)

And this lady’s and gentleman, is why we don’t let people who know those involved stand on the Jury.

GET HIS ASS JUROR NO.4!

(You are my favourite juror, you can tell the others if you’d like.)

Excellent work Ryunosuke!

Have you not even been listening?

(Susato is explaining the last ten minutes to him because she has more patience than I ever will.)

>:D

And Juror No.2’s crossed over to our side as well!

>:D

And she’s doing it for much better reasons than Juror No.5!

Juror No.2 you’re winning me back!

Just two more jurors to convince now, so let’s go on to the discrepancy about how the victim was stabbed, and maybe point out that the body was left in the seat it was stabbed it.

Old Lady vs Jack the Ripper, here we go!

(Ten guineas on the granny!)

Haha! His knife got stuck in the table!

(I put it again that this man should have that knife taken away from him.)

Yes judge, and if we’d been allowed to go through the whole trial before the jurors jumped the gun, you’d have known that already.

Yay! We’ve won Granny Thickle back!

WHAT DO YOU THINK THE JURY IS SUPPOSED TO DO YOU NINCOMPOOP?!?

And he’s being really racist now.

Fortunately he’s also rubbing the rest of the jury up the wrong way!

Well I consider this to have been a success Ryunosuke.

Well given that the body was found on the seat and there was no blood on the floor... I’m going to say no.

He wants evidence.

Ok then.

As a wise man with a cool sword once said: I will shove it down your throat and make you choke on it.

(Yeah, we should really have seen Kazuma’s moral dubiousness coming...)

Anyways, let’s show him the crime scene photo then.

WRONG???

Of course! The autopsy report shows he was only stabbed once!!!

Meaning that there was only one incident where the witness was stabbed!

VICTORY VICTORY VICTORY!!!

YEAH!!!

Yes, kill each other!

My Lord, Juror No.3 has started licking his knife and threatening the witnesses now...

I’m a little bummed we didn’t get to convince Juror No.4 seeing as she’s the one putting in the hours up there, but never mind. We’re back on track baby!

HE CRUSHED IT!

Oh my god Ryunosuke, we’ve got a prosecution shut up button!

HE THREW OF HIS DRACULA CLOAK!

Oh please, we all know perjury doesn’t exist in this here!

Oho, so apparently Beppo’s been overcharging his customers. Given the conditions he’s been working in I can’t exactly blame him though.

Unfortunately that does kind of rule out the possibility of an extra passenger though, so I’m not sure it helped us much.

Damn right I do!

‘Absolutely’ Ryunosuke and I share one mind.

Now let’s see if we can clear up that whole ‘I saw the victim stabbed on the floor’ bs.

You know, I’m rapidly warming to Mr Furst. Unlike the other witnesses and the god damn jury, he’s not telling lies, or overinflated by his own self importance. He’s actually taking it seriously and doing his best to be as clear and close to factual as he can.

I mean he could well be the killer for all I know, but right now I’m just enjoying him as a nice gentle guy who’s trying his best. It’s refreshing.

Barok’s trying to point out that we still have one witness who saw the stabbing, to which I say: Yeah, a witness with a reason to lie!

Still, Beppo’s the one I should probably be focusing on here, as he’s saying he saw the victim stabbed in places he couldn’t have been.

Well that was easy.

Mr Fairplay on the other hand is going absolutely ham on his cane.

What’s the matter Mr Fairplay?

Got something to say?

Again Mr Fairplay, being a banker in an Ace Attorney Game is not the commending statement you think it is.

Anyways new statement time!

And what’s this I see? Both his hands were covered in blood? That looks like a new contradiction to me!

You know he’s weirdly insistent about this, and I can’t work out why?

Like, regardless of whether or not he committed the murder, he’s clearly hoping that Mr McGilded’s going to be taken out of the picture as a result.

But if he wants that to happen then this is such a weird thing to lie about. It doesn’t add in any way to Mr McGilded’s ‘guilt’, in fact thanks to his gloves it kind of does the opposite.

But if he’s not lying then he has to be mistaken and I don’t understand what that would mean either.

Wow, Juror No.6 is ready to throw down!

(Juror No.3’s going off as well, but I don’t think that’s anything to write home about.)

NOT IN THE WAY HE REPEATEDLY SAID IT WAS!

I’m no longer so sure. After all, if he was it would be far more in his interest to keep quiet about it or say he was mistaken as soon as we bought the gloves out.

What I’m beginning to wonder though, is if there was a mysterious fifth passenger after all, and their hands were the ones Mr Fairplay saw covered in blood.

Come to think of it, he did say that he didn’t see the victim or killers faces, so that’s a good chance, and one that actually gives some hint as to what our suspect looks like: i.e. small.

Debt time.

IT’S A HUGE DEBT!!!

Good to get proper conformation on that theory then.

ORDAAR!

(If you don’t know about the House of Commons cry of Order you should look it up on YouTube. It’s basically the one good thing to have come out of that place.)

So he did lie about seeing the moment the victim was stabbed then. I guess that leave more room for the idea that the fifth passenger did it.

Actually, come to think of it did Mr McGilded ever tell us where he went to sit in the carriage? Could he have been on the open side, the one Mr Fairplay and Mr Furst couldn’t see from where they were?

Huh, he’s still doubling down.

Again I really don’t think he’s lying here, but I do think he’s mistaken about who’s hands he could see.

Also given how much this statement relies on him being a witness I should probably rule him out of my enquires.

I’m rapidly going back over my notes to see if I ever accused him, but let’s be honest here I did. The False Accusations counter is up to a nice healthy 5/5.

Of course Mr Furst, you’re an angle and we’re all thrilled you’re here.

Ok, well now any doubts I had that Mr Fairplay was telling the truth have been put to rest, thank you Mr Furst. You, me and Susato should form our own breakaway courtroom, Juror No.4 can come if she likes.

Anyway time for more testimony.

Certainly looks that way doesn’t it My Lord?

Now Barok want’s to examine the Omnibus again.

You know what, sure Barok, knock yourself out.

Barok, keep up. It literally a huge contradiction sitting right there.

YES IT MATTERS!!!

Well thanks to Mr Furst, the one good witness, we know that the real killer wasn’t wearing any gloves. Again Mr Furst I thank you.

Wait a second, there was a space under the seat opposite the victim wasn’t there. I know it was full of stuff but was there any room for someone to fit themselves?

Barok’s telling me that there was no trace of blood on Mr McGilded’s actual hands. I’m glad you’ve finally caught up Barok but stop talking now so I can examine the omnibus again.

Yes! A space!

And whoever it was who could fit inside there definitely fits the category of small!

And right on cue it’s time to bring their blind spot to light.

Now, I need to work out if they want to know about the space under the seats or if they just want the seats themselves, because from where Mr Furst and Mr Fairplay were sitting they couldn’t see either.

Fuck it, I’ll just put my cursor half way between the two and hopefully it’ll except whichever one it wants.

Haha, yes... exactly what I was going to say...

MY EVIDENCE IS THE FUCKING BLOODIED GLOVES!!!

Anyways, given that the killer was by all accounts sitting next to the victim with no gloves and bloodied hands, the only person who could have been in the concealed seat was Mr McGilded. Again, did anyone actually bother to check which seat he sat in?

Well done Judge. Still as sharp as ever I see.

Wow, that one hit the light!

Barok, that’s alcohol. If you start a fire in here I’m not going to put you out.

Oh he’s being racist again.

Racist stuff Ryunosuke.

Ok, well let me brake this down into words that a stuck up prick like you would understand. The witnesses never saw the attackers face, but they did see his hands and all agree that they were covered in blood. My clients hands were not covered in blood, and therefor he doesn’t fit the one thing we know about the killer. However we know he was on the omnibus, and the only place he could have been is in the seat that can’t be seen.

... you guys, I think this man might be the OG “protégé” prosecutor. Hugh O’Connor and Sebastian Debeste were simply trending in this mans footsteps.

I’m not really sure how much clearer you want me to be My Lord!

(Also ORDAAAAR!)

Van Zieks is still crawling blindly towards the light, and I suggest we just move on without him.

I know (or at least I hope) he’s just deliberately putting up barriers as the prosecution, but the way he’s doing it really looks like he’s packing his intelligence onto a bus and sending it out to destinations unknown.

(Credit to Ryunosuke for spelling it out for him though.)

Thank you Mr Furst, I knew you’d have my back.

THEN LET’S BRING HIM INTO COURT!!!

(ORDAAARR!!!)

Yeah on what grounds?

I mean this is literally the solution to all our problems.

Yeah, well he probably lied (though I can’t work out why).

Excellent point Ryunosuke!

Now Van Zieks is pointing out that if Mr McGilded lied in his statement there would have been a deliberate reason for doing so. To be honest, as the prosecution, this seems like all the more reason to bring him in.

Anyway we’re demanding his testimony.

WHY THE HELL ARE WE ASKING THEM?!?

Well luckily for us the jury seems to finally be getting its arse in gear and has agreed (fairly unanimously) to let the god damn defendant make a statement in his own murder trial.

Nothing to say here. This just feels like a meme.

HAHA!!! THERE WAS SOMEONE!!!

EAT MY SHIT BAROK!!!

Wait an urchin?

Ace Attorney, I’ve already had a ‘don’t feel good’ case regarding who I’m accusing, don’t make me do that again.

STOP MAKING ME ACCUSE POOR AND FRIGHTENED CHILDREN!

Yeah, they probably would have done, and unlike you I don’t think she’d have been able to pull the ‘I donated a park to this city you know’ trick to win hearts and minds.

I wonder if she was there as a passenger or as a stowaway? Because I’d say that gap under the seat could fit a child pretty easily.

Now Barok’s saying we have no reason to believe Mr McGilded. And he’s right except for, you know, all the evidence...

Wait what.

A smoke bomb just went off!

I really don’t like the face Mr McGilded pulled just then, and he definitely gave a signal for it to be dropped.

...Ah fuck, he’s guilty isn’t he.

And he’s using some kid to cover it up.

Well shit...

[nbrook29]

love you to the moon and to saturn

This is part 4 of my Sander in NYC ‘verse. I posted it on ao3, but recently I’ve also been posting my fics on tumblr so here it is 😌

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Warnings: mild sexual content

* * *

Saturday, 10:00

His sleep was anxious, mind too preoccupied with stress to allow him to get a proper rest. The wake up was even worse as mere seconds after he blinked the sleep away from his tired eyes the memories of last night crept back in, flooding him with worry and making his brain replay the argument over and over again like a broken cassette. And then he checked his phone only to find a string of messages and missed calls, all from Sander, causing his stomach to twist with nerves at what they were going to say. 

His abrupt leaving had been a dick move and if Sander was pissed, Robbe knew he couldn’t blame him. So he stalled, finger barely swiping at the screen as he was unsure whether to unlock it and face the consequences or maybe throw the phone back on his bedside table and bury himself under the covers to wait for his courage to come back and for his nerves to settle.

Heaving a sigh, he chose option number one because it was the only rational one. 

He tapped Sander’s photo, holding his breath without even registering it.

Two seconds later he knew.

He didn’t need to worry.

 Sunday 13:00

Robbe hides another smile into his glass at the thought of yesterday’s evening, trying to focus on what Marie is saying. She’s talking animatedly about a guy she met at her new internship, hearts almost flowing out of her eyes as she swoons on the wooden stool and sips her black coffee. She’s the kind of girl who falls in love quickly and falls out of love just as quick. Across from where he’s sitting, he sees Fien and Lucas rolling their eyes at her exaggerated lovesick sighes making him snort in his marshmallow latte.

“Weren’t you obsessed with that lanky guy from Starbucks last week? What happened to him?”

Marie shrugs, tossing her long brown hair back from her shoulders. “I decided he was too old for me.”

“Didn’t you say he was 21?” Robbe interjects with amusement, remembering their group messenger chat he caught up with this morning.

“Exactly!” 

They all start bickering about the appropriate age difference in relationships, Robbe watching them as he munches happily on one of the soggy marshmallows he fished out from his cup, trying not to giggle at Lucas’ scandalized face at Marie calling 21 old. Robbe knows from the many stories Lucas has shared so far that his own boyfriend is a senior at college so his reaction is even more entertaining because of that.

It feels good to be around them again, Robbe thinks to himself. He’s been canceling on them way too often those last few weeks and he still feels guilty about it. They’re a fun bunch, their bantery dynamic established since day one when they all chose the middle row to sit in during their morning classes, and then promptly spent half of it bonding over the outrageous occurrence that was the absence of a coffee shop on the campus. Not long after, Robbe also discovered that apart from the passion for filmmaking, they all also like skateboarding. After that, the rest was history.

They were for sure a nice distraction from Robbe’s intrusive thoughts in the beginning of the semester. He lucked out, finding his group, his people, so early on in his college journey. But at some point even their goofiness and honest attempts at cheering him up weren’t enough. Not since the news from Sander came that he’s staying in New York until February and since the thing with Jens.

Now, observing them from over his half-drunk coffee, lips twitching at some of the more creative but still lowkey insults Marie and Lucas throw at each other, he realizes he has really missed them. They’re like siblings, the two of them, constantly bickering and teasing one another, but it’s all good-natured and amusing to watch. 

“Oh my god, let it go, children, for the love of god,” Fien cuts in abruptly, before turning her big expectant eyes on Robbe, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and adding innocently, “I’d finally like to hear about Sobbe’s makeup.”

Heat rushes to Robbe’s cheeks and he scratches at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden. She’s the number one fangirl of his relationship, he has learned recently, but in a cute way, not creepy like Aaron sometimes used to be with his invasive questions. She always moans about being forever single, pouting at Robbe for some fluffy snippets and claiming in faux-seriousness that he owes it to the world to share them with others for being lucky enough to have a fairytale-like love story. 

Robbe has never disclosed to them how unfairytale-like some of the details are because it’s not his story to tell. But he really likes her so he always indulges her, usually after a bit of teasing. And, sue him, but he’s proud of his relationship and the fact that he of all people can call Sander his boyfriend, so even if he brags a little, he thinks he has good reasons for it. 

(He’s still kinda smug when he thinks about the time when he showed the three of them a photo of Sander, a pleased little smile on his face at their reactions and playful threats of stealing him for themselves.)

“Oh yeah, I wanna know too,” Marie agrees excitedly, scooting her chair closer to him. “You’ve been all smiley ever since you came over here so I’m guessing that hottie of yours did something right,” she ends on a teasing note, her waggling eyebrows leaving Robbe no doubts she expects some saucy details.

“Oh my god, stop,” he groans as he hides his face in his hands, his friends giggling at his embarrassment. “It wasn’t like that! We just… finally talked things out.”

 Saturday, 18:00 (flashback to last night)

Robbe’s been gnawing on his bottom lip relentlessly, completely unaware, to the point it’s a few bites away from drawing blood. He can’t help but feel nervous, the cursor hovering over the 'accept' button as he's rolling his eyes on himself internally, telling himself to stop making a bigger deal out of this that it needs to be. There is a bit of embarrassment clouding his logical reasoning to be honest, embarrassment about his overreaction last night.

Was it an overreaction? He's still not completely sure, but it's not like avoiding the situation is going to magically fix everything between them. Even though he'd really like that. It feels so awkward to be in this position. Robbe doesn't know what the protocol here is. They bicker, quite often even. Fight a little too, stomping off out of each other’s room grumpily but only over stupid stuff, nothing like this.

He's walking on an unknown ground just hoping he's not going to make things worse. He desperately needs their dynamic back because he's already over it. 

Not being able to share the most mundane every day stuff with each other over texts to joke about it, rile the other up or just vent about something stupid like their coffees not being hot enough on a given rainy morning sucks.

So he takes a deep breath and clicks on the button before he works himself into a never-ending second-guessing.

When Sander says a soft hi and smiles at him with the usual warmth in his eyes, something akin to relief courses through him from head to toe. 

He gives him his own tentative smile and a short hi, pushing himself higher against the pillows. Before Sander can say anything more, he lets go of what has been weighing down on him the entire day.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, contrite. “About yesterday. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just logged off like that without explanation. And then ignore your messages,” he adds after a pause because that’s what he feels most guilty about. He knows he’d freak out if Sander just cut him off without giving him an opportunity to talk things out, would worry himself sick. 

Sander looks conflicted, brows knitted together, like a part of him wants to reassure Robbe because it's in his nature, but the other part is genuinely hurt. Robbe doesn't want compassion. Not for that, because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Causing Sander distress is the last thing he wants.

"Yeah, it did suck," he finally admits after a moment passes, and Robbe finds comfort in his honesty. It’s a good start. They won’t get anywhere with false niceties and pretending everything’s fine. Robbe tried pretending, yesterday and most of their calls before that, and it got them where they are now.

“I mean, I know you didn’t want to talk about your problems yesterday,” pausing, he scrunches up his nose a bit, “but maybe next time just don’t log off so abruptly so I know you’re okay?” his voice tilts on a hopeful note.

Robbe just nods, feeling shameful, hating that there’s not much more that he can do when he’s talking to him through his computer, and can’t exactly reach out to cuddle up to Sander’s side or kiss the underside of his jaw as a silent apology to then stay close for the rest of the evening as they heal together. 

It’s frustrating and disheartening, but it affects them both the same amount and Robbe needs to remember that. Because the truth is, Sander didn’t exactly give him a legitimate reason to doubt him or to think he didn’t miss him. Those full of hurt eyes Sander gave him yesterday at the suggestion have been eating away at him all day.

Robbe just got swallowed by his own insecurities and let the little things that bothered him consume him all instead of, well. Communicating.

Sander was right yesterday. Of course he was.

He knows he has some more apologies to give.

“I’m also sorry for not telling you earlier how I felt,” he keeps pouring his heart out, “and for, you know, assuming you don’t miss me much, and-”

“Woah, hey,” Sander stops him before he can get himself deeper into the spiral. “Robbe, I fucked up too, don’t take it all on yourself.” He adjusts his laptop and Robbe can see his face clearer now, his eyes bloodshot and tired, a clear sign of a sleepless night, and the guilt clogs his throat even more now.

“I should have seen something wasn’t right.” When Robbe shakes his head and goes back to apologizing, Sander shoots him a pointed look that makes him shut up. “I should have, don’t deny it. You know, I took a long walk yesterday after you hung up, to clear my head, but also to get a perspective on our latest talks. And I felt so dumb for not realizing you were not doing okay.”

“Sander, I don’t expect you to read my mind,” Robbe tries to joke, but it falls flat even in his own ears. But he can’t bear those big regretful eyes on him. He doesn't deserve them.

“Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you the way you needed me to. Please tell me now? What’s been bothering you, hmm?” 

Robbe scrubs his face trying to collect his thoughts, to find a concise way to get everything out of his chest, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“It may take a while.”

Sander makes a show of fluffing the pillow he placed against his back and getting himself more comfortable on his bed, sighing with contentment for a better effect. 

“Look, I’m in my comfy clothes, got an energy drink on my nightstand, the computer battery is full and I told everyone I’m busy so they won’t nag me with anything. I’m all yours today.” He gives him an encouraging smile, fondness etched into every crevice of his face.

Robbe’s heart does a little skip at his words, Sander’s demeanor so comforting that he feels the last pieces of apprehension ebbing away, the need to vent overpowering the hesitation of showing his vulnerability. 

“I think I just found myself overwhelmed with some things,” he admits quietly, picking at his nail, an absent-minded habit when he’s nervous, as he’s trying to find the right words. “A lot has changed in those last few months, almost all at once, and I kinda have trouble coping. And like,” he scoffs at himself, “I’m angry with myself ‘cause I should be enjoying most of it, being in college and majoring in something that I actually like, and it’s great, but I can’t help but focus on all the things that are different now, things that are not so great.”

Before continuing, he flicks his gaze to Sander for a second, only to then cast his eyes back to his lap. “The last two years with you were the happiest of my life, you know? After years of bullshit and constant misery and pretending to be somebody I wasn’t I-,” he sighs, bittersweet smile on his lips,”I finally found my person, you know?”

Sander mirrors his smile, but he’s frowning a little. “But you still have me,” he reminds him softly.

“I know, but it sucks when I can’t just, I don’t know, snuggle up you and forget about stuff. It’s all your fault, by the way, you’ve been too good to me and now I have withdrawal symptoms,” he pouts, and hears Sander chuckling on the other side of the screen.

“You have no idea how much I wish virtual hugs were a thing. And kisses, oh my god, kisses too. I’m so kiss-deprived. Once I finally get my hands on you, I won’t let you go for a week.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

For a short moment, Sander manages to bring a genuine smile on his face, but it quickly disappears when the reality sets back in. There are still almost four long months to get through. He watches Sander’s smile slipping off his face slowly and he knows they’re both thinking about it.

The boy sighs deeply. “You know, sometimes I feel like it was a mistake to-”

Robbe’s eyes snap to him. “No, no, no, don’t think that, it wasn’t a mistake. Please don’t feel guilty or something, that’s the last thing I want you to do,” he stresses. Sander still looks conflicted, and fuck, this is exactly what Robbe wanted to avoid.

“Hey, I’m serious. Look, you not being here is tough, but like I said, it’s just things piling up, changing. Shit like school work that has been piling up and me getting so stressed about the end-of-the-semester project because I still haven’t figured out the details. Plus people moving away, all of that makes it difficult for me to adjust. So don’t go thinking it’s because you’re the center of my universe or something,” he ends his rambling with a feigned-offended huff and Sander easily lets them slip into their usual banter.

“I’m not?! Wow, the things a guy finds out after being such a devoted and doting and loving boyfriend.” He wipes the imaginary tear, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Such a menace, breaking my heart in half on this lovely Saturday afternoon.” He purses his lips in offence and Robbe is grateful for Sander’s attempt to lift the mood, trying to be upbeat.

He feels a tug in his chest thinking about how if Sander was here, he’d be tackling him to the nearest surface to shut him up with tickles and loud smooches and playful jabs in the sides and how they would make much more noise than necessary, acting like the rambunctious teens they are.

That’s going to have to wait too. But he discovers this thought doesn’t hurt as much as it would have yesterday because their conversation right now, this opportunity to vent and Sander’s texts last night, all of it makes him feel better, helps him see he’s not alone.

“I love you,” he blurts out all of a sudden, and it’s something he’s wanted to say since he read his heartfelt texts this morning that almost made him cry in relief.

Sander blinks a couple times, surprised, but then his previously playful face melts into such a fond look it makes Robbe blush like it was the first time he said it.

The I love you too comes right away, soft and quiet, like he’s telling a secret, and it’s heart-stoppingly precious.

To keep himself from drowning in fuzzy feelings, he shoots him a private little smile and steers the conversation back to his friends, telling him how it sucks that it’s they all now live away and how unexpectedly difficult it is to meet up. Robbe’s used to basically having everyone at arm-reach.

“We do video call, obviously, but you know, Milan is all loved up with Ralph in Amsterdam and not that keen on leaving their love nest and Zoe and Senne keep traveling between Genk and Ghent, which with Zoe’s coursework and internship is already a struggle. I don’t think they’re doing that well, actually,” he winces, remembering their last conversation.

If during freshman year somebody had told Robbe who his best friends were going to be, he’d looked at them as if they had grown two heads. Because for real, Jana’s new friend and her roommate? And school’s fuckboy? 

But life’s funny like that sometimes. Moving into their apartment in his sophomore year has been one of the best decisions he’s ever made. His number one best decision is currently frowning at him from his dirty screen.

“Oh, that sucks. Do you think they’ll work it out?” 

Robbe sighs deeply, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “Senne has been thinking about finding a job in Genk so I hope so.”

Sander huffs a laugh suddenly, shaking his head. “Wow, I wish I was in his place and there were only 2 hours between us, instead of a whole ass ocean.”

“Yeah, I think once you’re back we’re gonna have a master's degree in that long distance bullshit,” Robbe smiles at him wistfully. 

“Ugh, never again though. You’re not getting rid of me, it sucks without you, Robin.” He sounds so grumpy Robbe can’t help the short giggle that escapes him, but deep down he’s happy they both share that sentiment.

They’re staring at each other now, enjoying the moment before Sander shoots him a knowing look. “You haven’t mentioned Jens.”

That sobers him up enough for the fuzzy feelings to disappear from his stomach. 

Jens. There’s not much to talk about really. And isn’t that a punch-in-a gut kind of truth considering it was his best friend? Isn’t it heartbreaking that Robbe didn’t even feel like fighting for that relationship and there’s a nagging voice in his head telling him that Jens didn’t either? Just a regular heated argument was enough to finally cut that last string, to put a stop to a friendship that had been hanging by a thread long before. Not that they had noticed.

He felt awful, afterwards. More alone than ever before. But deep down he knew it had only been a matter of time. He just wished Sander had been there to pick up the pieces.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Robbe winces, going back to apologizing once he translates his feelings to words the best he can, hoping he made Sander understand.

The boy pulls a face at him, eyes narrowed as he pretends to give him a stern look. “Enough with apologizing today, okay?” He waits until Robbe nods, albeit begrudgingly, because it’s in his second nature to keep saying sorry when he knows he messed up.

He nestles against his pillows to get more comfortable as he glances to the window, registering that sometime during their call it got completely dark outside, November days getting shorter still. He can feel tiredness starting to creep into his bones, the nervous anticipation before their call he had endured all day wearing him down significantly. 

There are still some things he needs to get out of his chest and Sander coaxes them gently one by one, listening to him moaning and groaning about his school course load and how he thinks he’s not skilled enough to come up with interesting ideas and being quick to cut him off and reassure him when Robbe’s words get self-deprecating. He’s so attentive and so patient with him, not even an ounce of judgement in his eyes that Robbe feels the pressure and stress that have accumulated over the last few weeks finally letting go with each word he pours out.

When the conversation eventually steers to Robbe’s uni friends and he admits sheepishly that he kinda ghosted them lately, feeling too blue to go out and have fun, Sander interrupts him mid-sentence.

“You should reach out to them, tonight.”

At Robbe’s unsure look, he continues, “If they’re as cool as you made them out to be, I’m sure they’re gonna understand you needed some time to figure things out.”

He then proceeds to cover his ears and whistle, refusing to talk more until Robbe caves and shoots a text to the group chat, trying to keep it short, but explaining things along the way and making amends. Sander’s very pleased with his persuasion skills, beaming at him when Robbe reads him the replies he gets from Lucas, Marie and Fien, wearing a small smile himself as he rolls his eyes at Sander’s smug face. 

Sander then asks about his mom and it’s so sweet because he always makes sure to ask, and Robbe falls for him even more each time he does. He’s a bit reluctant when Robbe tries to make him talk about his recent days, keeps saying this call is not about him, but he gives in before Robbe gets upset about it.

Watching his eyes light up with excitement when he talks about his classes works like a balm for Robbe’s yearning heart, Sander’s genuine happiness making his own struggles worth it. It’s a nice reminder that he’s there to make his dreams come true and that it’s everything Robbe has wished for him.

When Sander talks about shenanigans with his friends, Robbe recalls the TikTok video he watched some days ago.

“Nice Michael Jackson moves, by the way,” he comments, trying to sound innocent, but it ends up coming out a little coyishly as he bites at his finger to hide his smirk. 

Confusion clouds Sander’s face but only for a second. Then, his lips stretch in a wide grin and he looks very pleased with the confession. “Have you been stalking me, Robin?”

Robbe shrugs, a picture of innocence as he keeps peeking at him from under his lashes. “I might’ve seen a video or two. They’re all so thirsty for you in the comments though,” he adds, putting a note of faux-jealousy in his voice. He quickly noticed that Sander’s new uni friend is semi-popular on the app so his videos always get a fair share of comments. Ever since Sander appeared in them, the hoard of the guy’s fans has been declaring their love for Robbe’s boyfriend under every video. They mostly make him laugh, but sometimes he’ll roll his eyes at some of the raunchier ones, possessiveness that he didn’t know he had activating in his brain.

He waits for Sander’s cocky comment, but to his utter delight, he blushes deep red and scoffs.

“Shut up, it’s so embarrassing,” hiding his face in his hands, he adds, “All of my friends have been teasing me about it constantly.”

“Aww, poor you, being fawned over must be such a hardship, how do you cope?”

“Oh I don’t know, smartass, you can tell me from experience ‘cause I saw those comments under your old vlogs.” 

Robbe huffs a laugh. “They were nowhere near as detailed as yours!”

“What can I say, I’m irresistible,” Sander quips back and yeah, there he is, Robbe’s favorite (cocky) dork. “If I’d known you’re my TikTok fan, I’d have sent you those videos right away so you wouldn’t have to waste your time searching for them."

Robbe sighs. “They are a nice window to your life there,” he replies offhandedly, not even registering the implied double meaning to his words, but the immediate change in Sander’s amused expression makes him aware of the slip.

Fuck. 

“So you noticed. That I’ve been texting you less.”

Robbe drops his gaze, pulling the cover further up his body, feeling awkward again. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this.

Sander shifts on his bed, scratching at his head. “I felt like I was too much, you know? I wanted to share every silly thing with you, but then, well, it was something Josh said that I should,” he waves vaguely trying to find the right words, “cut back on my ‘running commentary’ ‘cause it’s probably annoying.”

“Tell Josh he’s stupid,” Robbe cuts in with a huff, grumpily beating his pillow into submission to make it more comfortable. 

The corners of Sander’s mouth twitch at his comment, but his face remains sheepish. “I think he was mostly joking, but it got stuck in my mind and made me question every message. In the end, I didn’t send like half of them,” he explains softly, voice colored with poorly hidden self-consciousness. “I didn’t want to give you the impression I don't have time for you, I’m sorry.”

And, fuck. They’re both idiots.

Sander’s brows shoot up when Robbe bursts into giggles out of the blue, clearly surprised with the reaction. But at this point, it feels like the only proper thing to do.

“So basically we could have avoided this whole bullshit if we just talk about all this sooner,” he groans at the realization, burying half on his face in his pillow to hide his heated face because he’s a little embarrassed he blew things out of proportion.

There’s a visible relief on Sander’s face too, eyes crinkling as he regards him with a dopey grin, and Robbe knows.

They’re gonna be fine. 

“Here I thought we were masters of communication,” Sander sighs with a faux-disappointment, leaning back to smile at the ceiling. “Fuck, no more of assuming shit, what do you think?”

And that sounds like something Robbe can get behind one hundred percent, more than ready to leave their misunderstandings in the past and just do better. So he nods, chin digging into his collarbone uncomfortably with the position he’s lying in, but it doesn’t matter, he’s too preoccupied with staring at his happy face and swimming in his fuzzy feelings.

“Prepare yourself for an onslaught of photos and messages, I’m not messing around,” Sander warns, smiling at Robbe’s soft okay. “You know, just a few days ago I ended up at Pebble Beach, it was cold as all fucks, but the view was just,” he imitates an explosion over his head and Robbe giggles at his childlike enthusiasm. Then, Sander’s face softens and becomes a little sad. “That place is so romantic that it made me feel like shit without you there,” he sighs, and Robbe can relate. “I’ll take you there one day.”

“You’re gonna take me to New York?” Robbe asks, doubt lacing his voice as he cocks his brow which makes Sander scoff in indignance.

“Hell yeah! You don’t believe me? What do you think I’m doing here everyday? I’m scouting the best places for dates, finding the best skateparks and checking out all the museums so I can be the perfect guide for you!” Sander throws his hands, a duh expression on his face, but there’s a wide smile brewing on his lips letting Robbe know he’s not really offended or anything. And, honestly, Robbe just melts with his words.

“I can’t wait, baby,” he sighs dreamily, rubbing his cheek against his pillow as he gazes at him with what he’s sure is the softest look. 

Sander narrows his eyes playfully from above the can of Redbull he’s been sipping on. “Don’t ever doubt I’m gonna go out of my way to impress you.” 

Robbe blows him a kiss that morphs into a huge yawn, eyelids growing heavy, forcing him to blink repeatedly to stay away which prompts Sander to tease him a little about boring him, but it quickly dies out and he’s just looking at him fondly.

“You should go to sleep.” He ignores Robbe’s melodic neeees, giving him a stern look that was probably supposed to be intimidating, but he looks too amused to keep it up. Once Robbe gets his promise they will see each other tomorrow, Sander sends him several virtual kisses and goodnights before logging off.

Robbe falls asleep with Sander’s beaming face flowing through his mind.

The sleep that comes is unsurprisingly the calmest he’s had in weeks.

 Sunday, 18:00

Sander: And?

Robbe: And what?

Sander: Was I right?

Robbe: About?

Sander: About your friends

Robbe: Kinda

Sander: So it means I was 😎

Robbe: :):):) yes

Sander: Thank you sander

Robbe: Thank you sander 

Sander: See, you're so precious everybody's in love with you and forgive you in seconds 

Robbe: 🙄 

Robbe: Precious srsly?

Sander: So precious 🥰

Robbe: Omg

Sander: Haha

Robbe: We're good 😊

Robbe: But I don't think they are in love with me 😂

Sander: They better not be 🤨 I'll fight them all! 🗡💀🧟🤺

Robbe: Dork ❤

Robbe: I think they a little bit in love with u though 🤔 

Robbe: They've been babbling all afternoon about how cute you are 🙄

Robbe: A g a i n *yawn*

Sander: They have good taste 🤷♂️

Robbe: Nah they just don't know your annoying habits so that's why

Sander: 😮 I don't have any how dare you badmouthing me like that

Robbe: 🥴

Robbe: You never wash your coffee cups right away so they lay around

Robbe: You always tickle me when you want sth

Robbe: You're full of corny jokes

Robbe: You eat my fries when I don't look 

Robbe: You hog the covers

Robbe: And I still remember that Wednesday when you ate my last bag of chips 💔

Sander: Okay first of all

Sander: Wow

Sander: Don't hold back 🥺

Sander: Second of all

Sander: I THOUGHT THOSE CHIPS WERE MILAN'S I TOLD YOU!!!

Robbe: That's what they all say 💔

Sander: You're unfair, I thought I made up for that lil mistake 🍆

Robbe: Well you did 🙈 but I still remember 😝

Sander: Also you love my jokes

Sander: They're awesome 🤧

Robbe: I'm just messing around 😘😘

Sander: 🥰

Robbe: But I swear to god if I have to listen one more time to Marie waxing lyricals about your 'perfect moles' I'm gonna 🤮

Sander: What haha 😂

Robbe: I mean they are but like

Robbe: Chill girl he's not your man 🤨

Sander: That's right cause I'm your man 😏

Robbe: And don't you forget that

Thursday, 3:48

Soft knuckles brush his skin, body arching into the touch that turns his muscles into jelly and sends liquid fire rushing through him. He’s overheated in the best way possible, seeking out Sander’s tongue, but the boy denies him access, smirk well in place as he pulls back, green eyes cloudy from lust. He’s staring at him like he wants to eat him whole and Robbe almost whimpers, bones melting and lids closing when Sander takes the tender flesh of his neck between his teeth and bites at it ever so gently, but just enough to make Robbe see stars. 

He sighs as he feels a ghost of touch on his nipple, Sander leaving a trail of kisses down his sternum as he’s moving so teasingly slow to his final destination, and he doesn’t even hesitate, spreading his legs wider around Sander’s hips in a blatant invitation, blushing hot pink when Sander sends him a fox-like grin, mouthing at his inner thigh.

The details get fuzzy for a few seconds, Robbe blinking rapidly to get his surroundings and finding himself on top of Sander, and there’s an inkling at the back of his brain telling him something’s messed up about the logistics here. He decides to ignore it, focusing back on the moment and Sander’s glistening, kiss-swollen lips, on his eyes transfixed on the place where they’re connected, and he leans down, his tongue sweeping over his Sander’s bottom lip before he starts pressing soft, spit-slick kisses into his mouth. He pushes Sander’s hands up over his head and intertwines their fingers, arching his back as he takes over, the rush of pleasure almost overwhelming him.

“Ohmygod, Sander,” Robbe breathes into his mouth. His hands are trailing all over Sander’s chest and stomach now, squeezing and rubbing almost like he’s his personal plaything.

It’s not long before Sander’s warm hands draw him back towards his chest, lips ghosting along Robbe’s, teasing, always teasing, but not granting permission to properly meet, making Robbe impatient and whine in desperation only for Sander to grin wickedly at him. He feels nails dragging along his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, stopping at his cheeks, massaging them to his heart content while Robbe can only pant, rocking back and forth and biting his bottom lip to keep from coming.

He’s an oversensitive, blissed out mess, trying to keep his eyes open to take a mental snapshot of Sander’s lust-blown pupils as they watch each other, Sander fucking him slowly and punching the prettiest sounds out of Robbe’s mouth.

Hips stuttering, he drops back down on his elbows to crash his lips against Sander’s, feeling his body tensing he’s so close and-

Eyes shot wide open, blinking harshly against the darkness of the room. His first instinct is to reach out to the other side of the bed, snuggle closer to the source of heat lying next to him, but his brain catches up with his hands quickly and he stops himself mid-reach, groaning as he flops back on the bed, disappointed. He kicks his covers down grumpily, letting cold air hit his overheated skin, frustrated and too awake to go to sleep now.

Fuck.

 Thursday, 13:08

*photo attached*

Sander: Good morning x

Robbe: Heeyy sleepyhead 😘

Robbe: You look cute

Sander: I had very interesting dreams last night 

Robbe: Oh yeah? 

Sander: Yeah I'm still affected by them 😏

Robbe: Stop it I'm at a coffee shop with the guys!

Sander: I'll have to tell you about it tonight then 😈

Robbe: Can't wait 😘

Sander: Today at 16 my time right? 

Robbe: Yep :) 

Robbe: You know

Sander: Hmm?

Robbe: I might have some of those dreams too last night

Sander: 🥵🥵🥵

Sander: Do tell

Robbe: 🙈

Sander: Now I’m super intrigued 😈

Robbe: How about I tell you tonight 

Robbe: With details

Robbe: Lots of them

Sander: Tonight can't come fast enough 😩

Sander: Looks like I will though 😏

Robbe: Omg you're such a dork 😂

Sander: Did it get u hot

Robbe: No wtf 😂

Sander: ☹🥺

Sander: Kay

Sander: I have to get up now

Sander: I'm late 🙄

Sander: Robin it's raining I don't wanna go out 😩

Robbe: Haha get your pretty ass out of bed and go be a good student!

Sander: Ugh fine 🙄

Sander: I love you ❤

Robbe: ❤

Sander: Hey no, not an emoji, tell me you love me ☹

Robbe: Haha

Sander: Come on

Robbe: 🤐

Sander: Robbe

Robbe: Gotta go 😌

Sander: Okay then 😔💔

Robbe: I love you too idiot ❤❤❤💯

Sander: Yesss 🥰

Sander: Hey that's my emoji 😏 so you like it after all

Robbe: 😂 go to class!!! 

Sander: I'm going I'm going

Friday, 19:00

Robbe checks his phone for time again, not wanting to be late for his call with Sander, but there’s still about half an hour until he should get going. It’s been a pleasant evening and a while ago he would have never called any time of the day spent with his father ‘pleasant’, but there he is. Enjoying his dinner not only with him but also with his girlfriend of six months that he met in July when the first attempts to salvage the relationship with his dad have been made. 

And it’s all because of Sander. The fact that he’s even here speaks volumes about his skill of persuasion. If it hadn’t been for his boyfriend, Robbe would have continued to stew in his own juices and ignored his dad. 

“How is Sander doing? New York is a jungle.”

Robbe huffs a laugh. “He’s good, he fits in well in the city vibe. But, um, he needs to stay a bit longer, till February actually ‘cause the school postponed the art show.”

He goes for another bite, frown on his face at the mere reminder of the change of plans. 

“You probably hate it, huh?” his father questions. 

His only response is to throw him a duuuh look, making his dad snort.

“You should visit him.”

Robbe looks up from over his spaghetti, expecting to see his dad laughing or winking at him, but both him and Margaux are looking at him with unsuspecting smiles, like the suggestion is the most obvious thing in the world.

He exhales a short dad in a laugh, glancing at them back and forth. “I don’t have a spare several thousand euros lying around waiting to be spent on a trip to New York,” he explains, slight exasperation in his voice. 

“Oh I don’t think you’d need that much, Robbe,” Margaux smiles at him as she puts away her fork and reaches for her phone. “A few months ago I was actually backpacking with my friend through the East Coast and, wait, let me check, I have everything saved on my AirBnB account.”

Robbe gets back to his dinner as she scrolls on her phone, trying to squish the building hope in his chest away because even if it’s cheaper than he thinks, there’s still no way he can afford it; his equipment and books for school have eaten all of his savings.

“There it is! Look,” she scoots her chair closer to him, his dad peeking at the phone from the other side. “We stayed in Brooklyn for 98$ a day for a double bed, in Bedford to be exact and the conditions were really nice, plus the train station was close by. I’m sure you could find something half as cheap since it’s just you and the room can be tiny, just to sleep really.”

“That’s a reasonable price, I think,” his dad joins in, and then proceeds to ask her questions about her other expenditures while in the city and the flight prices, debating whether it’s better to drive to Frankfurt and take a direct flight from there or maybe decide on a layover flight from Brussels. 

They are so into the planning and discussing the best options that they both jump slightly when Robbe speaks again, clearly forgetting he’s sitting right next to them, a picture of confusion. 

“Guys, guys, wait. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1500 euros, or even 1000 euros because that’s still a 1000 euros more than I have to spend on a trip anywhere.” 

His dad is so enthralled into checking different flights that he barely raises his head from above his phone, replying offhandedly, “I’ll pay for it.”

And, okay, no. Robbe gapes at him like he grew two heads, spluttering, because hell no.

“No way, I won’t take your money, dad.”

His vehement tone finally makes his father properly regard him and he sighs after a second. “Robbe, please don’t treat it as an attempt to buy you or your feelings.”

Straight to the point, his dad, always has been. It definitely is one the reasons for his refusal, but it’s not only that.

Robbe takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look, dad, it’s still lots of money. I can’t-”

“I’m many things, but irresponsible with money I’m definitely not. So if I say that I can pay for it, it means that I can afford it and it won’t affect me.” He gives him a pointed look. Before Robbe can argue again, he continues. “We can treat it as your Christmas gift. And next year’s birthday gift. And last two Christmases gifts as well.”

Robbe thinks about the packages he received from his father those holidays, and how he sent them back without even opening. Then, it definitely felt like buying his affection.

“You’ve been doing good at school, got into the university you wanted, you’ve been more responsible those last few years that I could’ve ever asked from you. Then you worked during the summer because you were adamant about paying for school stuff yourself. I think you earn it, Robbe. If you don’t want to go for other reasons, then that’s fine, but if it’s just about the money, please let me give you this.”

“New York is the kind of place everyone should visit at least one,” Margaux says gently. She has a warm smile that immediately made Robbe like her, despite really trying not to for obvious reasons. “And I think Sander would love for you to come visit too.”

Robbe has been torn before she spoke, but the mention of Sander reminds him of their videocall a while back, Sander telling him about places he was going to show him one day, being his guide and taking him to his favorite spots in the city. He can see it all vividly now when the opportunity is at his fingertips, can’t stop the excitement filling his body at the thought of seeing Sander before that dreadful February, even though he’s still now sure what to do.

While he’s been lost in his thoughts, trying to come to some conclusion, Margaux has been typing away at her phone. “Dates around Christmas are very expensive, but what would you say about, let’s say, December 8th? Til December 17th?”

Robbe wouldn’t even consider Christmas because there’s no way he would leave his mom alone for the holidays, but… the dates Margaux offered seem kinda perfect. His main project is due on December 4th so he wouldn’t have to worry about that and it’d be fine if he missed classes for those several days. Completely unaware, he finds himself making plans in his head before he even made a decision to accept his father’s money, but when his eyes snap to his dad’s, the small smile he gives him lets him know he already knows Robbe’s answer.

 December 7th, 22:00

His excitement has been uncontainable the entire day, making him so giddy he had to cancel his regular call with Sander because his boyfriend would figure him out in seconds. And that’s the last thing he wants. 

He’s still in shock that he somehow managed to keep it from him, planning a surprise in his head ever since he agreed to his dad’s help and working extra hard at uni to afford missing those 8 days of school. There’s apparently been one close call when Younes almost spilled the beans to Sander during their Zoom, but thank god for Yasmina who managed to effortlessly salvage the secret, improvising and coming up with an easy lie, leaving him unsuspicious of any ploy going on.

And Robbe just. He just can’t wait. He’s been counting hours since last week, his lips yearning to be kissed by his favorite person, body pining for touch and caress. 

Lost in the dreams of their reunion, Robbe’s startled by a ping from his phone, lips stretching in a wide smile when he sees a notification from Sander’s instagram. He opens it, curious, melting when he’s greeted with a graffiti sign saying ENKEL LIEFDE, Sander’s style easily recognizable to him. Underneath, there’s a heart and his own handle and that shit never fails to make Robbe heart stutter. There’s a DM from Sander waiting for him as well, the same photo, but Sander’s caption says The High Line needed its own version of my love declaration for you, but unfortunately I couldn’t find enough space for a redo of your gorgeous face Robin :( So I did this :) You like it?

He replies with a bunch of red hearts, likes the post and adds another heart in a comment because there’s never too many of those. Then he flops back on his bed, a smile glued to his face.

Nineteen hours.

[birdsandspades]

I Was Never Good at Waiting (Sugawara x Reader) Chapter 14

- It was your last year in highschool, everything had been going smoothly until you got assigned the new teacher. Sugawara Koushi was handsome, maybe too handsome for his own good. Be he wasn’t flirting with you right, teachers shouldn’t do that….I guess we will see where this year goes.

Word Count - 7,451

-Does this have spelling errors, yes. Did I try to proof read this, yes. Do I have work in a few hours, yes. Also tumblr hates my old gif so I guess we're switching it.

----

You could only read a sentence so many ways. Forwards, backwards, skipping every other word as if some hidden message was hiding between the white lines.

“Sugawara told me you needed a fake boyfriend for the day and gave me your number for the details. What time do you need me to show up at the station tomorrow?”

It was a well written text message, all the words fully typed out. This was definitely not from anyone of your slightly illiterate classmates.

The area code belonged to one of the Tokyo subdivisions. The same three Iwa-chan had while he was going to school at Tokyo university. Maybe whoever this was attended the school as well?

You chewed on your lip in tandem with the blinking of your text cursor. You had to reply but with what?

“Maybe Koushi is awake.” You scrolled through your recent calls, tapping on his contact. The phone sat silent for a moment before ringing once, twice, three times. No answer. His voicemail droned on as you looked into the dark kitchen.

“Hi you’ve reached Sugawara Koushi, i’m not able to answer right now. If you leave me a message i’ll…” You ended the call, watching as the screen closed and the message opened back up.

Something was turning, working away as you started at the phone icon that sat next to the unknown number.

“His voicemail will have his name!” You had reached your aha moment as you dialed the number, lifting the phone to your ear. You could be smart when you wanted to be.

No answer, not much to your surprise, it was in fact very late. You waited for the voicemail as you slid to the edge of the sofa seat.

“I’m sorry, but the person you called has a voice mailbox that has not been set up yet. Goodbye.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear slowly, carefully setting in on the coffee table. Turning to the side you threw your head into the sofa cushion and screamed.The universe could give you a break, maybe even a little crack. Bend just a little bit?

You had no plan A, or B, or C at this point. And despite not wanting to rely on a complete stranger to dig you out of yet another one of your problems, Sugawara had put a plan in place at some point in your evening. A poorly set up plan, but something nonetheless.

You sat back up and grabbed your phone again. You would just text him and wait, hope that he got it and showed up. Eight hours was plenty of notice right?

“We will be at the Tokyo station at noon tomorrow, i’ll be waiting at the plaza water fountain just outside the entrance.”

Sent.

It was now a waiting game as you set the phone down beside you. You head tilting back till it met the plush top of the sofa back. You watched the ceiling fan turn, counting the seconds as you waited for any kind of response. Five minutes turned to ten, ten to thirty, and soon enough it had been an hour. Whatever came after was forgotten as your lids inched shut, the burning in your eyes too much to suffer through.

Whatever anxiety you had sunk to the back of your mind as you finally got your break, some uninterrupted sleep.

---

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as you looked around the dark living room. Your phone chimed on the seat next to you, the bright screen making you squint. You felt for the device, lifting it up as you yawned.

“One missed call from :Tooru (#1 Senpai) Oikawa”

You redialed the number, lifting the phone to your ear as you stood up. You could see the light bleeding through your blinds as you walked over to the window, with one tug of the string beside them the room was flooded. You stretched, shifting the phone to your other ear as the ringing stopped and the voicemail beeped.

“Sorry but I can’t make it to the phone right now, if this is in regards to any events or games please call my agent. Bye!” Tooru’s voice chimed on the other end.

“Hi, sorry I just woke up. Call me back when you get this?” You hung up, the screen illuminating again with another call.

You clicked on it, raising it again to your ear. “Hey, good morning.”

“You mean good afternoon.” Yua corrected.

You smiled, shaking your head as you turned to look into the kitchen. You squinted, trying to make out the red numbers on the stove clock. Ten...twenty...four….

“It's not noon yet Yua, it's only 10:30.”

“Yeah and the train leaves at 11:00…” She went silent, as did you.

“Oh my god...Oh my god!” You screamed into the phone as she pulled the speaker away from her own ear.

“See you in thirty early worm.” She chuckled as she hung up the phone, you needed all the time you could get.

You looked at the time again, thirty minutes was hardly enough time to get to the station, let alone get ready for an entire date (date?).

You took a deep breath before running up the stairs. You would have to cut out the non essential things. Showering, makeup, brushing your hair, probably not going to happen. You slid to a stop at the bathroom door, taking a step back to look at yourself in the mirror. Maybe you could find time to brush your hair.

---

You could not describe the mess your room was in as you closed the door behind you twenty minutes later, toothbrush still in your mouth as you jumped down the stairs.

“Shoes, where did I put my stupid shoes?” You groaned as you reached under the coffee table.

You pulled one out, throwing it by the door as you ducked back under the wooden table to grab the other. Your phone buzzing in your pocket startled you as you bumped your head on the underside of the table.

“Ow…” You rubbed the sore spot as you pulled the other shoe out. Today was already off to a bad start.

“Almost ready, almost ready.” You chanted as you made your way to the door, like a mantra to trick your brain into a false sense of security as you shoved your foot into your sneakers.

You were looping the laces on your shoes when Yua called again.

Your brain was doing well with one thing at a time, as most brains tended to do. But the vibration in your hand pulled all focus away from your already clumsy half standing shoe tying, your left foot coming down on the still unlooped laces of your right. You tried to pick up the foot, one foot, the wrong foot. Your right foot raised up, the bunge of the laces toppling you over in the doorway as you tried to answer the phone.

You picked your previously floor planted face and glowered at the phone, the vibrations mirroring the tingling in your knees.

You rolled over, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Ten minutes, the train leaves in ten minutes Y/N!” Yua warned.

“Yeah, i’m like almost there.” You mumbled, phone sandwiched between your shoulder and cheek as you moved the toothbrush still in your mouth over. You finished tying your shoes before standing back up.

Yua laughed, she knew you were lying. “I can’t understand you, just make sure you're on the train.” She ended the call, leaving your line silent.

You grabbed your bag and coat off the hangers, and pulled the front door open. Leaning back in to set your toothbrush on the door side bench, you would put it up later. Trading your phone for your keys, you fished them out of your bag and locked the door behind you.

You ran down your porch steps, scanning over the now empty driveway. Sugawara’s car was gone.

“He must have come early in the morning to get it…” You shrugged, you would ask him later.

You ran. Down the sidewalk, across the busy street, and over the bridge that led to the station opening. You stopped for no one as you pushed your way through the crowds on the platform. You had turned a fifteen minute walk into a six minute sprint, a new record.

You squeezed down the station stairs, your train just up ahead. You could see Yua from the door opening, a seat open next to her. She waved at you to hurry, her attention on the overhead speakers. You could hear the announcement, the train doors were about to close.

The door inched shut as you jumped off the platform and onto the now departing train. The doors sealed behind you as the overhead announced the train exiting the station.

You bent over, hands on your knees as you fought to catch what breath you had left. Yua’s growing laughter hid under your uneven pants, peaking between each thump in your ear.

“Wow, I don’t think I've ever seen you run so fast.” She tried her best to stifle her laughs, the passengers around watching you both with curiosity.

You looked up between the strands of hair, glaring at the hand she offered you.

“Miss?” A man walked over, looking between you and the train door. He reached behind you, pulling at the back of your coat, the tail end stuck between the tightly sealed doors. You could see the other end flapping in the wind through the glass window, a little flag of defeat.

Yua broke again, her laughs echoing around the train as the man tugged at the stuck material. Today was the day, you were going to actually kill her.

You slid the coat off your shoulders, letting it fall back onto the door. You thanked the man as he walked back to his seat, his sullen look matching your own. He had at least tried.

“I hate you.” You groaned, taking the seat beside Yua.

“And I brought you a coffee.” She handed you the warm cup, her smile matching it. “I had a feeling a superstar like you would be up late last night.”

You took the cup, your frown leveling out as you took a drink.

“You changed your hair.” You mused, looking over the vibrant dye.

“Oh yeah, I wanted something new and I figured I would surprise you.” Yua touched her now blue bob, twirling the front strands around her finger.

“You look like a blueberry.” You teased. You liked it, it fit her better then blonde.

“You look like you didn’t even brush your hair.” She pushed you, sitting back in her seat. She knew what you meant, she always did.

You smiled, leaning into her. “I hate you.”

“So how was the concert last night, did Ryu do a ten minute solo this time?” She took the cup from your hands and took a drink.

“It went well, it sold out.” You chuckled, taking the coffee back.

“One day when you're famous will you write a song about me?” She grinned the same gummy smile she always gave you.

“Yeah, i’ll call it “Yua: The Gremlin of Aoba Johsai.”

She pushed you again, rolling her eyes. “I hope you don’t talk to your boyfriend like that.”

“I’m meaner.” You deadpanning, the corners of your mouth turned up as she tried her best to hide her own smile.

“Are you excited to meet him?”

You nodded, the uneasy feeling setting back into your stomach.

“Don’t worry, today is going to be great.” She reassured you, placing her hand over your own.

“Yeah, i’m sure it will be.” You returned her smile, hopefully she was still this happy when the day was over.

You took your phone out of your pocket, no notifications. You had checked during your mid morning panic, but had gotten nothing from Sugawara or your mystery date today. You were starting to doubt there would even be a “boyfriend” to meet.

---

The train pulled into the station, the speakers announcing your stop. You stood up and grabbed the arm of your coat, the doors parting as you pulled the creased fabric out.

You followed the line out, walking over to an open spot along the far wall. You slide your coat back on, the crease smoothing out as you zipped it closed.

Yua reached out, straightening your collar. “Where is he meeting us?”

“The fountain.” You tried to push her hands away, her grip on your collar tightening.

“Stop, let me fix you.” She aggressively pulled at your coat, jiggling you back and forth.

“Ok mom.” You grab her wrists, prying her off of you.

“Ah sorry, it's just. You got so big so fast!” She wipes away a fake tear, chasing after you as you walk up the station stairs.

“I hate you.” You groan, holding the station door open.

You walked together to the fountain nestled in the middle of the plaza. It was busy, groups walking around the park that surrounded the stone circle. It was a popular meetup spot for the area. The perfect walking distance between the university, the train station, and the central hub of the city.

“See him?” Yua nudged you, pulling your eyes away from a group across the park.

You looked around the area, no single person separated from their groups. Whoever was supposed to meet you wasn’t there yet.

You shook your head, leaning against the cold brick of the fountain. The day was warm, pleasant on the exposed skin of your hands. It was the last of the mild weather, the heat of the days increasing as June approached.

Japan had a beautiful way of changing seasons, easing into everything just a bit later than the rest of the world. Right now you were on the cusp of spring and summer, the days melding together as the temperature changed. September the air would cool down, the trees' leaves fading into warmer hues. Snow would cover the barren branches in December, coating the country in white.

School would break then for a few days, giving the students rest for the final term. You would return in January, and the flowers would follow suit in March. You would graduate with the buds, the flowers blooming for a new class.

School broke for about a month after March, the longest break the school would give. You jokingly called it summer break, the closest thing you would get in the Japanese school system. It was the best time to get a part time job, and that's just what you did last year.

You wondered what you would do once you graduated, what that last summer break would be like. It would be the last chance to see your friends, spend time like this before everyone would leave for school.

You had been lost in thought for a bit by the look on Yua’s face. Her hand waving you back to reality.

“Hey, he’s gonna show up. Maybe he’s just late.” She smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s probably just late…” You returned the sweet gesture. You had never gotten a reply, with your luck whoever had texted you decided not to come.

Yua looked behind you, tilting her head up. “Can we help you?”

“You could have texted me a little earlier last night F/N.”

You turned around, eyes traveling up the tall man in front of you. “Tsukishima?”

Yua looked between the two of you, her confusion growing each time.

“Tsukishima!” You smiled, shouting a little louder than intended. You wrapped your arms around him, his body tensing at the sudden contact.

He leaned down, wrapping an arm around you as he hovered by your ear. “You may want to try better than that if you want to convince her.” He harshly whispered in your ear, smiling at your friend behind you.

“Well maybe you should have included a name in your message if you were planning on never texting me back.” You gritted your teeth.

Tsukishima laughed, pulling away from the shared hug. He dug his fingers into your skin, pinching your side before walking to greet Yua.

“I’m Tsukishima Kei.” He reached a hand out, the same smile still plastered on his face.

Yua grabbed his hand, shaking it energetically. “I’m Okada Yua. Wow you're a lot better looking than I thought you would be.”

Tsukishima nodded, pulling his hand away. “Thank you?”

“I just thought you would be bald...and creepy.” She smiled, unaware of her backhanded compliment.

“Ok, with that what should we do?” You clapped your hands together, ready to get the day over with.

“I know a cafe at the end of the park, are you two hungry?” Tsukishima placed a hand on your back, guiding you down the pathway.

He was different, something slightly off with the smile that had remained on his face. He wasn’t this sweet last night was he? His dark haired friend had all the charm.Tsukishima, he had the wit.

Yua chatted with him as you walked together, laughing at whatever joke he had said. You instead bore a hole into the side of his face, brows knitting together.

“F/N, are you ok?” He questioned, tilting his head. That same fake sweetness drenching his tone.

“I’m fine.” You smiled, shaking your head.

His eye twitched slightly, the smallest falter in his appearance. “This is it.” He held open the door to the cafe, watching as you walked in behind Yua.

“Hi, can we get a table for three please.” Tsukishima smiled at the lady behind the counter, his hand on your shoulder as the door behind you shut with a jingle.

“Of course.” She nodded, walking out from behind her post.

You craned your neck to look behind you at the tall blonde, his smile wavering once the hostess had led Yua off. “Walk?” He nodded forward and gave you a push.

“Rude.” You grumbled as Yua took a seat at a small table nestled in the window lit corner of the cafe.

“Is this ok?” The hostess smiled, looking between you and the man beside you.

“It’s perfect for a first date.” Tsukki nodded, forcing a grin as he gave you another push into the booth.

Yua audibly awed at the sentiment as she wiggled in her seat, “How cute, I'm going to throw up.”

Tsukki slid in next to you as he rolled his eyes, he hated this as much as you did.

“Have whatever you want, my treat.” He handed you a menu.

“You don’t have to Kei-san, Yua eats a lot…” You protested, a foot connecting with your shin.

“Let your sweet boyfriend pay for us.” Yua scolded through a forced smile.

“It’s no problem. It’s the least I can do for buying her a ticket to come see me.” Tsuki looked down at you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Call me Tsukki F/N, you don't need to be so formal.” He joked. He played his part well.

Your cheeks grew hot, you hated the thought of being so informal with someone you hardly knew ,“Tsukki…”

“How did you both meet?” Yua interrupted, surely saving you from the awkward encounter. “First date nerves”, she thought.

“One of her concerts. I have a few classes with Ryu so he introduced us.” Tsukki nodded, turning his attention away from you.

“You go to college right?” Yua added, setting down her menu.

“Yeah, just across the way at Tokyo University.”

“Wow, that's expensive! What are you going for?”

“Undecided.”

“Well what are your interests, do you have hobbies?”

You could see his smile falter at the barrage of questions from Yua, her interest in the last waning as she asked another cluster.

“Sorry to interrupt, can I order anything for you?” The waitress smiled, book in hand as she looked around the table.

Yua listed off her feast as Tsukishima leaned over your shoulder to look at the menu still in your hand.

“Iced mango tea please.” He looked back at you as you shifted nervously in your seat.

“One iced americano please.” You attempted to hand the menu back to her, slightly leaning over Tsukishima as you looked at him to move over. He leaned back in his seat, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You frowned, leaning further over his large frame to give the menu back.

A glass tipped over a few tables over, the patron cursing under their breath. “I’ll put these in for you.” The host nodded before excusing herself to help clean up the spilled drink.

You sat back in your seat, glaring at Tsukki as you scooted towards the window.

“I’m going to use the restroom, you two enjoy some alone time.” Yua wink, sliding out of the booth.

You watched her disappear behind the bathroom door before turning to Tsukki. “Thank you for coming today but you don’t need to be so…”

“Sweet?” Tsukki interrupted.

“Fake.” You corrected, “You weren't even this happy last night…”

“Sugawara-san told me to play the part.” He smiled, pinching at your cheek.

You pushed his hand away, “What else did he tell you?”

“A good amount, he's a chatty drunk.”

A younger man walked up to the table, drinks and treats in hand as he set each one down in front of you.

“Thank you.” Tsukki nodded before turning back to you.

“How chatty?” You questioned, the amused look painting it's way over his features told you enough.

“Excited for volleyball nationals? How about that English test last week? He says you got an A. But you forgot a few commas, you may want to pay attention to that.”

You let your head fall on the table as you groaned, “Did he tell everyone?”

“No, I was the only one who bothered to listen.” He lifted the tea filled glass to his lips, nodding towards Yua coming out of the bathroom.

Her eyes lit up as she sat back down, “This all looks so good, thank you Tsukki!”

His nose wrinkled at the informalities, “Of course.”

“How is it?” He turned towards you as you took a sip of your drink.

“It’s good.” You return his smile, looking over the tall boy's features for the first time that day.

He was in his own ways very handsome, his soft blond hair tousled, falling just below his eyes. The sun shined in just the right way on the sparse auburn highlights that framed the pieces, the lightest shade of strawberry blonde.

He gave you a quizzical look, eyes shining behind the thick rims of his glasses. They were golden, sparkling in the rays of soft yellow sunlight that tinted the entire cafe.

He reminded you of the golden hour, when the sun dipped just enough below to horizon to paint the world in golden yellows.

“You didn’t order anything to eat?” He waved the waitress over again, “You’ll get a stomach ache if you just drink coffee all day.” He nodded for you to order something else as she pulled out her book.

“Ah i’m fine really…” You contested, trying to excuse the waitress.

“Strawberry shortcake?” He looked at Yua as she nodded. “One strawberry shortcake please.”

“Tsukki you didn’t need to get me anything else.” You frowned as she disappeared to put in your order.

“Of course I did, I can’t have my love feeling sick all day.” Tsukki smoothed over your hair, his long fingers trailing down the side of your jaw to turn your flustered gaze towards him.

“T-tsukki!” You stammered pushing his hand away as he chuckled.His personality was killing all the admiration you had for him.

“Cute.” He beamed, before looking over his shoulder.

“Here you go.” The same young boy smiled as he set down your cake.

“Oh, thank you!” You bowed slightly as the boy took his leave.

“Once you finish we can go do anything you like.” Tsukishima pushed the plate towards you as his arm layed around the back of your seat.

“I know he's trying to be convincing but he could lay it on a little less thick.” You shifted slightly as his hand ghosted over your shoulder.

“This has to be some of the best cake i’ve ever had. Do you come here a lot Tsukki?” Yua asked through a mouth of coffee cake.

“Once or twice a week when I need a quiet place to study. This place is open 24 hours a day so it’s pretty nice late at night.”

“Wow, we don’t have anything like that. Maybe I should come here for college.” Yua proclaimed as you took a bite of cake.

“Yua do you think your grades are good enough?” You tease, pushing your foot against her own under the table as she pouted.

“How is your cake?” Tsukishima questions as you cut off another bite.

“It’s good, do you want some?” You slid the plate towards him, he is paying for it after all.

“Sure.” He smiles, leaning over you to take the bite off your fork.

Your froze, fork still in midair as you made eye contact with the shrewd man. The entertainment he got from your expectation was telling enough as to why he was doing this.

Yua’s phone buzzed on the table top suddenly, “Oh excuse me, i’ll meet you guys outside.”

She got up from the table, answering the call as she nodded a thank you to the host and walked out the door.

“Finish you cake.” Tsukishima nudged you, as he got up from the table. “I’m gonna go pay.”

You looked at your fork before setting it down, you hated him.

A few moments later Tsukki came back, sliding in beside you.

You pushed the last bite of cake toward him, frowning at the still apparent smirk on his face.

“Oh don’t be so upset, I was only teasing.” He shook his head as he took the last bite. “Flustering you was a bonus, I only wanted to see if I could agitate him more.”

You looked at the blond confused, “Who?”

“You mean you didn’t know he was coming today?” It was now his turn as his brows knitted together. He snorted, covering his mouth to stifle the laughs.

You shook your head slowly, it just wasn’t clicking. Tsukki sighed and nodded for you to look behind him.

Sitting up slightly you looked at the hat clad man sitting alone by the bathroom door, phone in hand as he flipped through an app. He turned around slightly, hazel eyes meeting your own as he looked back down at his lap.

“What is that idiot doing?” You questioned, leaning over to get a better look at your boyfriend sinking into his oversized jacket.

“Hiding.” Tsukki jokes, his finger tapping on the phone laying on the table before you.

You unlock it, dialing Sugawara. Both of your eyes glued on the incognito man.

He’s phone vibrated, startling him as he jumped in his seat before quickly ignoring the call.

Tsukishima shook his head, before slipping out of the booth. “Let's give him his privacy.”

You nod, picking up your phone to end the call. The notification screen popping back up as you notice another missed call.

“One missed call from :Tooru (#1 Senpai) Oikawa”

“When did he call?” You question, redialing his number for the second time that day. You slid out of the booth, following Tsukishima out of the cafe as the phone rang.

No answer.

You listen to his voicemail, giving Yua a small smile as she looks over at you.

“Sorry I missed you again. Just call me when you get this, or text me...I hope you're having a good day senpai.” You ended the call before walking over to your friends.

“Was the Oikawa-senpai?” Yua questioned as she looked over your face.

“Yeah. He called me this morning too but didn’t leave a message that time either.” You thought back to the late night call you had gotten from him before, it wasn’t unlike him to randomly call you. But never that late and never without a message.

“Do you want to keep trying him?” Tsukki was no stranger to Oikawa or his strange ways, but he could tell from the look on your face that whatever had been bothering you wasn’t a new issue.

“No, it’s ok. I don’t want to keep you guys waiting.” You wave them off, turning up the volume on your phone before putting it back in your pocket.

“Ok.” Tsukki gives you a strange look, his golden eyes unreadable.

“Well what do you guys want to go do?” Yua beams, leaning between the both of you.

“Tsukishima you live over here, is there anything you want to do?” You smile, his eyes softening.

“Not really.” He shrugs.

Yua points to the banner peeking out between the trees of the park, “That looks fun.”

You shift over to see the words boldly written across the white fabric, “New dinosaur exhibit from the United States”

You mouth the words, eyes lighting up at you turned towards and equally bright eyed Tsukki.

He coughed, turning around to hide the growing blush crossing his cheeks as you took a step back.

“We can go if you want Tsukki.”

“I don’t care, whatever you want.” He cleared his throat, avoiding your curious gaze.

“Cute.” You teased, as he pushed you away from him.

“Lets just go.” He grumbles, walking ahead of you.

---

“Wow Tsukki look!” You beamed, pulling him over to another fossilized skeleton of some long dead lizard. “I think this one kinda looks like you.” You teased, pointing to the long neck.

“Think we're distant cousins?” He smiled, stretching his neck out.

You laughed, covering your mouth as groups walking by starred.

“Only if F/N is related to that frilly looking one over there.” Yua added as Tsukishima chuckled.

You fixed your eyes on the familiar hat behind Tsukishima, tucked behind a pillar close to the museum exit. Sugawara had been following close behind the three of you all night, ducking behind exhibits each time you came close.

“I’m going to use the bathroom, i'll meet you both by the exit.” You excused yourself as the other two continued on the prehistoric tour.

You made your way around the opposite side of the pillar, Sugawara looking out the other way as he moved to follow your existing group. You snuck up behind him, looking around him as he scanned to check if it was clear to come out.

“Hi Koushi.” You smiled, looking up at the distracted man.

“Hi F/N.” He looked at you before turning back to the mission at hand, he couldn't let you get too far now could he?

“I like your hat, where did you get it?” You mused, this man was oblivious.

“A gift.” He answers your briefly before spinning around. “Hi!” He chuckles loudly, startled by how close you had gotten.

“What are you doing Koushi?” You tilt your head, an amused smile adoring your face.

“I wanted to make sure your date went well!.” He waved his hands in defense, taking a step back.

You wrapped your hands around his wrist, pulling him back behind the pillar. “And why would you need to do that?”

“Because drunk me worries a lot less than sober me…” He sighs in defeat, what use was it hiding from you. He couldn’t just sit at home while you were on a date with another guy, fake or not.

You groan, rolling your eyes, “ Koushi someone could see you.”

“Well tell Tsukki to stop touching you so much and I wouldn't need to be chaperoning this date.” He huffed in reply, folding his hands over his chest.

“He’s just trying to convince Yua.” You couldn’t help but smile, jealous Sugawara was your favorite.

“Yeah he’s trying something…” He looked away, cheeks growing red at your gaze.

“You're ridiculous, I have to go. Try not to let Yua see you ok?” You stood up on your tiptoes, pushing his hat up enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving.

He put a hand over the warm spot, throwing his head back as he groaned. He grumbled to himself as he walked off, he might as well try to beat you home at least.

---

“Hey sorry!” You looked between the two as they turned away from their conversation.

“Was it the coffee?” Yua frowned.

“I did tell you to eat.” Tsukki added, chuckling as you smack his arm.

“I hate you both.” You whined, Yua giggling.

“The train is gonna be at the station in about thirty minutes, I think we should head back.” Yua pointed to the clock in the center of the museum, nodding towards the sun setting just [ast the tree line.

“Wow, is it already seven?” You looked at her wide eyed as Tsukki nodded.

“We can cut through the park, the station is just on the other side.”

You followed him and Yua out of the museum, falling behind as you looked down at your illuminated phone.

“It’s Tooru, I'll catch up.” You waved them off as you lifted the phone to your ears.

---

Oikawa looked up at your door, taking a deep breath before shifting the bouquet of flowers to his other hand. He tapped on your door lightly before taking a step back.

Your lights were on in your bedroom, the soft yellow peeking out of the white curtains. He stood on his tiptoes as he watched for some kind of movement behind them.

His anxiety grew as he sank back down on the balls of his feet, nervously chewing on his lip as he reached to knock on your door one more time, this one a bit louder.

He had tried to call you, but for some reason most of them weren't going through. The few that did were never picked up.

He didn’t want to confess to you over a voicemail, and his nerves were too much to leave a coherent message on why he was calling you in the first place.

“Where are you?” He questioned, knocking again on the door. Readjusting the bouquet in his hands he straightened his back and watched the door again.

He knew you were off from practice today, only because he drove by the school three times to check. Were you asleep, working on homework, maybe you had taken a walk down to the corner store.

“Maybe I should call her again.” He frowned, moving the flowers into one hand as he pulled out his phone.

The seconds between each ring felt like eons, his heartbeat stopping all together when the next one didn’t come. His breath hitched once he heard your voice faint on the other end, talking to someone before speaking to him.

“I think that may have been the longest game of phone tag we’ve had in awhile.” You smiled, happy someone had finally gotten through.

“Yeah, it definitely might have been.” He returned your laugh as he looked out at the setting sun over the building tops. He relished the sound of your voice, leaning into the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh nothing, just seeing what your doing tonight.” Oikawa kicked at the concrete step in front of him.

“On a date in Tokyo actually, why?” You look at Tsukki and Yua arguing over what way to go, shaking your head as Yua threw her hands up in defeat.

“Oh, well nevermind then. I was by your house today so I wanted to say hi.” His words caught in his throat, voice cracking.

“Oh, i’ll be back in a few hours…” You frowned, did he sound upset?

“It’s ok, I have to head back to Tokyo for training in the morning.”

“I'm sorry senpai, maybe next weekend?” You stopped walking, Yua waving for Tsukki to stay.

“Yeah, maybe. Get home safe F/N.”

“You too Senpai.” You try to add as the line dies.

He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, lavender and baby's breath peeking out over the opaque cellophane .

He had remembered you mentioning this exact arrangement one night with him. Sobbing into his chest as you cried about never finding a boyfriend, never having a wedding, never getting to have your dream bouquet of flowers.

He found it endearing and quite funny that you decided to confess this to him of all people, the man that of course planned on marrying you one day.

He had wanted to wait until you finished school to tell you of course, you were distracted enough as is. But Sugawara was reason enough to do it sooner rather than later.

He had fought with himself long enough over telling you his true feelings, hated himself for letting another boy break your heart. He couldn’t handle seeing you like that anymore.

So he decided today would be the day, he would confess to you before you and Sugawara got serious. He had planned an entire day but with the lack of communication on both sides now he was left with this. Standing in front of your door as the sun went down, praying that you would open the door before it got any colder outside.

He bit his lip, chuckling as the bouquet fell to his side. “Of course i’ve been trying to reach her all day while she's on a date.”

He looked at the vibrant flowers, his restrained laugh slowly turning into soft sobs. His grip on the stems tightening as he turned back towards his car.

He threw the flowers into the passenger seat before getting in. Turning on the car, he ripped the gear shift back into drive. He sat there a moment, looking at the road in the rearview mirror before easing back into park, foot still rutted into the brake pedal.The lull of the motor reverberated through the steering wheel as he rested his head on the cold leather.

A moment was all he needed, just a moment to be alone as he screamed. Cried out how badly he wanted you to be home, how suffocating it was loving you when you didn't even know, how long he had hated the dull throbbing in his chest everytime he thought of you.

But now his moment was over as he sat back up, rubbing the tears from his swollen eyes as he reversed the car out of your driveway.

---

“Everything ok?’ Yua questions, walking beside you.

“Maybe, Tooru was in town today and wanted to see me.” You looked up at the confused blond behind her.

“Is that a bad thing?” Tsukki tilted his head.

“I’m not sure.” You force a smile as you looked away from your dark phone. “Lets go, we don’t want to miss the train!” You push your friends along, their suspicions waning.

You approached the station with a few minutes for goodbye, eyes falling on each other as you waited for someone to speak first.

“Well i’ll leave you too for your first kiss.” Yua smiles, pushing you towards Tsukishima. “Bye bye Tsukki, it was great meeting you!” She gave him a brief bow before turning to walk away.

“She is so annoying.” You whine as she disappears down the station steps.

“She cares, I think it's...sweet.” Tsukki shakes his head at the bright blue bob looking around the corner at the two of you. “Get home safe, text me that you made it ok if you want.” Tsukishima placed both his hands on the side of your face, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m sure she’ll ask why if I didn’t.”

You smiled softly up at the blond, “Thank you Tsukki.”

He gave Yua a wave, her head ducking back behind the brick wall of the station as he said his finally goodbyes.

You met Yua as the train pulled in, her squeals pricking your eardrums. “I would have preferred one on the lips for how much I spent on these tickets but that was fine too.”

You rolled your eyes and took a seat besides her on the train. “Ok, ok. Shush before we get kicked off the train.” It was nice to see her happy, despite the deceptive reasonings behind it.

The train ride is spent in silence as you both doze off, you hadn’t been the only one up all night worrying.

As the train pulled in, Yua nudged you awake. Passengers grabbing bags as they departed. You followed behind, walking with her up to the street as you regained some form of coherence.

You gave your friend a wave goodbye ,before turning to leave .Her hand grabbed at the fabric of your sleeve, pulling you back.

“Hey wait can I talk to you really fast?”

“Sure.” It was seldom that you saw Yua timid, eyes avoiding your own as she worked up the courage she usually had.

“Well, F/N. I, well. I’m sorry for everything.” She looked up at you, frowning at your growing smile.

“Yua it's fine, I should have just told you.” You attempted to ease the tension.

“No, it’s not. I didn’t think you could take care of yourself or make these kinds of decisions so I butted into your personal life that you weren't ready to share.” She kicked at the air before taking a deep breath.

“F/N, I was a bad friend. Your mom told me when she left to look out for you and I took it too far. I could have really messed up our friendship.” Her lip quivered as she shook her head. “ I’m sorry, I won’t be your mom anymore!” Her voice was louder then intended as she tried her best to cover the faults in her voice.

You chuckled, placing a hand on your head. “Your stupid and I love you.”

She returned your smile, pushing you lightly. “Go home loser.”

You waved goodbye, walking in opposite directions as you each made your way home. The burden no longer heavy on your friend's chest.

You on the other hand had your own, phone heavy in your pocket.

“Maybe I should call Tooru again, he sounded upset.” You reflected as you walked home.

Something didn’t sit right with you, anxiety building every time you thought about that call.

You pulled out your phone, turning on the screen as you walked up the driveway to your house.

You looked up at the porch, lowering your phone back down.

“Hey you.” You smiled, Sugawara leaning back against the step.

“Hey.” He patted the space beside him, “Let's have a talk.”

You gave him a quizzical look, slowly sinking down beside him.

He looks up at you, his lips in a tight line.“You two are breaking up, I'm not allowing you to see Tsukki anymore.”

You shook your head before laying it against his chest. “That's fine, he thinks he knows more about dinosaurs then me anyways.”

“I’m glad that was the deal breaker.” Sugawara ran his hand down your back as he laid his head on top of yours.

You stayed this way for a while, looking out at the skyline of stars. Your eyes growing heavier as you listened to the soft thumping of the heart that seemed to beat in tandon to your own.

“You should head inside, we have class bright and early tomorrow.” Sugawara pulled you away from his chest, his hand tilting your sleepy gaze to meet his own.

You nodded as he got up. He offered you a hand, helping you up as he brushed the dirt off your pants legs. You walked with him down the stairs to his car, watching him get in. He rolled the window, leaning out to meet you.

“Goodnight.” He smiled, pulling you down to his level. He ghosted his lips over your own before kissing you softly.

“Goodnight.” You leaned your forehead against his before standing back up.

He gave you a small wave before pulling out of your driveway, the size increasing as he drove down the road.

You giggled, watching his car disappear around the corner before making your way back up the steps. As you unlocked your door you noticed a small bud of lilac sticking out from under your doormat, the light illuminating the vibrant sprig as you opened the door.

You leaned down to pick it up, “These don't grow here?” You examined the flower, tilting it over in your hand as the door closed behind you.

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Previous Chapter- Next Chapter

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[amethystpath-writes]

Hola, mademoiselle! Would you mind continuing "Drugged hero" PLEASE?! Danké !

I love that there’s four languages in just three sentences. Amazing.

I need to change the title to Drugged Angel. Oopses. As a pre-cursor...Hunter and Marcy are now going to be considered OCs. This, and the previous one explore the basics of the characters, but I can also do random tropes with them as requested since the basis is Marcy being- cough, cough- tortured. Having said that, heed the tags.

@whatwhumpcomments @daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

******

A weight on Marcy’s back woke her. It was an odd sensation, one she hadn’t felt in months, but immediately recognized. It was the weight of her wings. She couldn’t brave opening her eyes and turning her head back.

Tears pricked her eyes, spilling out of the corners and running warm down her cheeks, chin, neck, and into her shirt, which was tight against her throat. If Marcy reached back to feel her wings, she’d feel the fabric of her shirt being pulled back with them. She was thankful, at least, that she wasn’t choking. But maybe she shouldn’t feel thankful for that. Maybe dying was better than…

The realization that Marcy was in Hell struck her like a wave of fire. A cry raised in her throat, but she kept her eyes screwed shut. Opening them meant facing reality. Opening them meant being fully aware of her situation. It meant taking in the bars Hunter always kept her in, and taking in the wings- once white, now a dark grey and leathery with few feathers- on her back, the ones that made her feel so impossibly heavy.

Eventually she would have to open her eyes, but for now Marcy had to tell herself she was dreaming. In her reality, she was laying in a human bed- not an odd nest in a cage- and she had the television on because otherwise her ears rang loudly from the noises of her past. There was a nightlight in her room that would be active despite the tv being one because it was behind her bed, cloaked in shadow if not for its own light. Marcy tried to imagine herself being that little light- one so small, but so capable of staying lit. Darkness used to be a comfort to her because it meant she could admire the glow of her own skin. In the light, there was nothing special; everything looked the same. But in the dark, Marcy’s skin glowed an orange-yellow, and she felt glorious- holy.

Darkness didn’t have the comfort now that it did then. Now it was just a place where Marcy could be found- could be touched- by any beings of the night, since that’s where they manifested. Of course, it was always night at Hunter’s home, and he didn’t mind visitors, especially since it was only ever to see his pet- to see Marcy. Not many demons had succeeded in turning angels into fallen by simply presenting them a choice.

An image of a writhing human flashed across Marcy’s mind.

There was only one. If there had been two or three, she might have been able to redeem herself, but Hunter only gave her one dying human. It didn’t work out quite as Hunter planned. Marcy was supposed to finish the job, and then she’d earn her freedom. Instead, she comforted the human while it died. Marcy should have known it was a trick, then and there, when Hunter still let her go. But as he said, “You could have healed them. You did not. Leave.”

Marcy hadn’t thought twice about leaving when granted her opportunity. She spread her white wings, she glowed, and she was gone.

But then she was falling from the sky, wings useless as her body darted towards the ground. Marcy saw her white wings shrouded with grey tendrils. Even as she fell, she could feel those shadows pushing and pulling her wings, stretching them, and tugging the feathers away before settling. Her wings were grey, and they weren’t like those of a bird anymore. They weren’t like anything known to creation. Marcy’s wings now belonged only to the Fallen. She wasn’t granted access into her holy lands. She was banned.

Becoming one of the Fallen was easier than she anticipated. Marcy didn’t glow quite as much as when she was an angel. And the small amount that she did was a different colour- blue. It allowed her to blend in with the humans. When a human questioned her glow, she said it was ‘glow-in-the-dark paint’ because apparently that was a thing. Either way, Hunter wouldn’t find her. But he did. Marcy didn’t know that the blue glow attracted demons whereas the orange-yellow repelled them. After just a few months, Hunter slipped something into Marcy’s water, and now she was kneeled in a cage with her eyes screwed shut, and her fallen wings permanently sprouted behind her.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

Marcy jumped at every sound, taking ragged breaths. It’s a flagpole. I’m in bed and- and someone put a flag up. It’s just metal hitting metal. Not a tail on a cage.

A hand brushed her wings and she felt what few feathers there were still attached to the top bristling. A breeze. The A.C. must have kicked on.

A fist clenched around her two wings, tightening, tightening- she pulled them away, both of them, as she found they were pinned together by something. Her eyes opened, but she casted her gaze to her knees while she sat knelt in the twig and mud nest. She hated this nest.

“There she is, my pretty bird.” Hunter’s hand found her wings again and this time she knew not to pull away.

Marcy opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. It was pointless to say she wasn’t an angel. To a demon, she’d always be considered one. Even if she became a demon herself, they’d always value her as being a pet from the holy lands. The demons loved to acknowledge they made something so pure fall from grace.

“You shy away from me again. You didn’t miss my little touches?”

She remained still but took notice of the light illuminating her cage. Hunter only ever used a light when he wanted Marcy for himself. When the light was off, the other demons swarmed in. Marcy swallowed. “You said you would let me go, Hunteriaysa.”

“Using my full name? You’re hopeful, today, aren’t you?”

“I-” Marcy shook her head, finally looking up and over her shoulder. She could barely see the shadowy figure which was Hunter beyond her wings. But she did see the claws, could see how they barely missed touching the flesh of her wings. “You said you would let me go,” Marcy repeated.

Hunter laughed, and his claws finally skimmed Marcy’s left wing. She whined, but otherwise did nothing as he began to speak. “And I did. You didn’t think it was permanent, did you? Certainly, after you created your own option when given mine, you knew I’d come after you again. There are no loopholes in my deals, and every time you try to find one, you’ll be punished for it. This was your warning.”

This time, Marcy did rip away from the demon’s grasp, and in the process his claws left red gashes. Hopefully, it would scar, Marcy thought. Hopefully, she could make herself less beautiful to the demon, to Hunteriaysa. “I have fallen because of what I did under your demand, and that wasn’t punishment enough for you? I can’t go home, Hunteriaysa.”

“One, it wasn’t a demand. You chose freedom over a human’s life. According to the committee of the holy lands, you deserved your fall.” Ting, ting, ting. Hunter’s tail clanked against the cage as he rounded to the front, where Marcy began looking. She looked down when he came in front of her, looked down at his clawed feet- like a gargoyle’s. “Two, if you call me by my full name again, I will rip those precious feathers out from the tops of your wings. Once a week. I know they grow back.”

She couldn’t let him do that. It wouldn’t make her fall anymore- she’d already done that- and it wouldn’t turn her into a demon, but the feathers that remained were to serve as a reminder to former angels of their fall. Though one of the Fallen couldn’t technically fall again, they’d feel the pain of landing each time a feather was ripped out. Demons were happy to pull them, all angels and fallen knew.

If Marcy could have tucked her wings, she would have done so now. Better yet, if she could hide them, she would. “Don’t you remember being holy, Hun-Hunter?”

“We all do, but you know what I remember more than that?” Hunter reached into the pockets of his white trousers- which contrasted greatly against his midnight skin- and pulled out a key.

Marcy hated that key. She stood on wobbly legs that barely had feeling and backed up against the opposite end of her cage. She suddenly felt very hot, but her skin was riddled with goosebumps. Her breaths were deep, but they didn’t feel like they were reaching her lungs. The panic Hunter sent her in was uncontrollable, especially as he threatened to pluck her feathers, though in truth, she would have been panicked before the threat. He was a demon, and he acted like one for as long as he had captured her.

“Don’t,” Marcy whispered as Hunter opened the door. He kept it wide open as he stepped in; he always did this to give his bird a false hope of escape. She utilized the opportunity twice, both times ending in her own bloody skinned- and screaming humans to top it off. “Hunter, please. I’m sorry.” He hadn’t said what it was he thought of, but Marcy knew. Hunter dangled it over her head like fresh meat over a weak lion- tauntingly.

He stepped closer and Marcy’s hands found themselves wrapped around the bars behind her, clenched. Her wings passed through, out of reach from the demon stepping towards her.

“I let you fall,” she said. “I’m sorry. If I could have brought you back, I would, but you know I would have only been casted away with you. But I came to you, Hunteriaysa. I came to you to help, and I wasn’t allowed, but I did because I loved you and I was willing to put my grace at risk for you. You brought me here against my wishes.”

Hunter was a step away- too close, much too close. “You said my name.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head wildly. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, Hunter. Hunter. Understand me, please. I loved you, and I came for you. Why do you do this to me?”

“Because…” Hunter brought a hand to his bird’s face, stroking a thumb across her cheekbone gently. She almost nestled into his touch. “You betrayed me. I killed that human to save you from what I am now. You told the council. You damned me.”

She whimpered; eyes closed. “I didn’t want to, Hun- I’m sorry. I’m not meaning to use that name. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” His hand was warm on her cheek and it reminded her of when Hunteriaysa was an angel. He was so sweet, then, so loving and kind, and he loved Marcy more than anything. He protected her against a demon ready to capture her. Hunteriaysa killed a human to protect Marcy…and she turned him in for it out of fear for it being found out and that she might be in trouble for keeping it secret. “I’m sorry. I loved you, though. You have to know that, Hunter.”

His finger turned sharp against her cheek and she gasped, pushing her head back and to the side, her other cheek pressed hard against the bars as she tried to get away. “And what about now, Marsielia? I found you looking for me, and when I brought you back, you tried running away. Tell me, is that how you love?”

Marcy understood now why hearing an angel’s full name was so distasteful to demons- apparently it was to the Fallen, too, as she felt it herself. Her brain was struck like a gong. Her name was as forbidden as she was in the holy lands now. She swallowed, and Hunter dug a claw into her cheek.

“Forgive me,” Marcy whispered. She peered at her old lover with only her eyes, no turning of the head, or else Hunter’s claw might strike bone. “I had been scared. I was selfish, and I should have fallen with you then.”

“Is that truly what you believe?”

Despite the claw, she nodded, not believing she could admit it vocally.

“Then join me. Allow yourself that final plunge into darkness and be one with me.”

Her breath shuddered. “Become a- a demon?”

“Yes.” Hunter’s voice was a smooth hiss. “You’ve already fallen, and you can’t return to the holy lands. Submit to the darkness, Marsielia, and become it. I will forgive you then.”

Her body jolted as he used her name again, his claw pushing in further. “You’ll continue to hurt me if I don’t,” Marcy said. “You don’t love me anymore; you just want your revenge. You have changed entirely.” She nearly dared to speak his own name but remembered his threat.

“Of course, I changed, dear. I was betrayed.” His claws retracted, his fingers brushing over the hole he made in Marcy’s cheek. “I was betrayed by the bird I loved most. Do you understand that your betrayal hurt worse than my fall? I didn’t even flinch when my kind found me, ripped my feathers out over, and over, and over again. It didn’t hurt like what you did to me. I loved you, Marsielia. I fell for you so you wouldn’t be taken and tortured by my kind, and you turned me in.”

He brought a finger to her chin, hooked it, and forced her to look at him. “So, what will it be, Marcy? Will you be with me or should I turn the light out?”

Marcy shook her head. “Don’t. Please don’t. Hunter, you know what they’ll do- what they do every time.”

“Rip out your feathers? Tear your wings? Scratch and prod at you with searing talons? Take your precious lips with their own? It isn’t so bad, is it? It can’t be worse than becoming one of them, right? Like becoming me?”

“You can’t do this. Hunter, please.”

Hunteriaysa took steps back and back until he was grasping the door, watching as Marcy’s face fell deeper into despair and fear. “One day, you’ll submit, and you’ll love me again. And then? You can never betray me again because you have already fallen, and you will have nothing else to lose.” He shut the cage door, locking it with the key before placing it back in his pocket once again. His tail dragged along the floor, and he said, “Until then…I heard some of my kind have begun using their tails as whips. If my visitors tonight don’t, maybe I’ll try it out myself. Or maybe I will do it either way. Goodnight, my love. May your screams derive from Hell- which they will.”

The light turned out, and not a moment later, Marsielia’s skin glowed blue, and she saw the shadows dance with the light. “Hunter!” But Hunter wasn’t there, and the demons were excited to see such pretty white feathers, no matter how few.

[woahitslucyylu]

Big Sister. (Part I)

GIF not mine - credit to OG creator. 

Well, Coco’s back at it again. This is Part I. 

Notes: Big sister/sister refer to sorority sisters and a Big Brother-Big Sister program. There is no biological relation. It is a relationship term only. 

------------------------------------------------------“What’s the theme this weekend?” Letty sipped her milkshake as the car idled at the light. “You won’t believe it - bikers.” You couldn’t control your giggles. “I already have an idea of my outfit. Here, look.” You passed the phone to Letty as you turned onto the gravel road of the Romero Brothers scrap yard. 

“Oh, shit - I have the perfect shirt. They’re inside. Come in.” Letty pleaded as you stopped in front of the service office. “They’re club shirts, but you could easily crop it.” Letty drew an imaginary line across her midriff. “Only if you help me!” You turned off the car and followed Letty into the clubhouse. Letty was your Little Sister through your sorority’s mentoring program and you had fallen in love with her. She reminded you so much of yourself from not so many years ago, and you felt convicted to lead her down the right path. 

The cool air was shocking as you stepped into the log cabin-esque clubhouse. You had never been in before - despite dropping Letty off here weekly. “Wait here. I’ll go grab them. Help yourself to whatever you want.” Letty tossed her book bag absentmindedly on a leather couch and headed down a dark hallway - leaving you alone. 

“Aye, can I help you?” The dead voice sent chills through your body. Your back was towards the door and you suddenly felt vulnerable. “I, I am...waiting for Letty. She’s getting me a shirt.” You smiled confidently - turning to face the speaker. Years of pageants and public speaking had given you false confidence in the most desperate times. 

“Oh shit, it’s you. Where’s Letty? Is everything okay?” Coco rolled his eyes at your presence. “Oh, yeah, she’s getting me a shirt. I hope that’s okay.” You gestured down the hall as you walked closer to Coco and his small group. 

“Aye, who is you? Coco, you aren’t going to introduce us?” The speaker was tall and his eyes dark - already glassy with lust as he looked you up and down. Coco grimaced, lighting another cigarette under the pressure - “Angel, this is -----. She works with Letty on school and shit.” Coco shrugged his shoulders towards you. He wasn’t ashamed he needed help. What did he know about being a father? What did he know about being a father to a 16 year old girl? He was grateful you were so involved with Letty. 

“Here, I found one.” Letty appeared, breathless, holding her heather gray prize in her hand. “It’s too big to crop, but you can knot it in the back or under your boobs.” Letty held her hands in front of you, modeling a bantu knot. “Leticia, what the fuck are you talking about?” Coco’s voice was gruff in an attempt to parent the semi-inappropriate conversation. “Coco, she has a party to go to! It’s biker themed. She needed a biker t-shirt.” Letty threw her hands up in dramatic fashion. 

You couldn’t contain the giggles - Coco and Letty were one of your favorite forms of entertainment. “Letty said she could give me one. I hope that’s okay. I think it would add to my outfit.” Your voice was sincere as you stared into Coco’s dark eyes. There was something about him that held your breath and tingled in your belly. “Yeah, yeah, you good. Enjoy.” Coco couldn’t hold her gaze for long. It made him nervous. You seemed to see right through him. 

“Aye, a biker party? Need real bikers? I know a few.” Angel winked at you and gestured to Coco, EZ, and Gilly. You smirked as you walked back towards your car - “Ah, maybe another time, right? Love you, Letty!” You ended the shout with a kiss blown to Letty. 

“Oh, okay, next time is good.” Angel quipped as you drove out of sight. 

———————————————————————

How many shots was this? You had lost count. “Ugh, who bought Burnette’s?” You shudder as the alcohol warmed your body. The party was loud and crowded as thick rap beats pulsed through the room. You had decided to cut and tie the Mayans shirt from Letty - forming it to your tiny frame with knotted sides. It had been a hit and you had won best costume for women. 

“Aye, come here. Take my picture.” You thrust the phone toward your semi-sober sister. You felt brave. “Just make me look sexy.” You struck poses against the blank hallway wall - pouting your lips for effect as she moved closer to frame your face. 

“Here. I got good lighting.” Your sister smiled - tucking her arm through yours as you scrolled the available images. “Who are you sending it to?” Your friend’s voice was sing-song, teasing you as you selected a close up of your cleavage and pouty lips. “Oh, just a friend.” You waved her away as the picture popped into the message. The cursor flashed at you tauntingly as you typed in “C, o, c, o” and hit send. You couldn’t think about it - if you did, it might have been ruled too dangerous or too scandalous, and you were living for the thrill. 

Coco sat at the table - his cards tucked as he watched the others ante up. Letty was staying with a friend for the night, and he had taken advantage of being able to kick back with his friends. “Aye, I’m out.” He folded his shitty hand - he swore Angel cheated when dealing the cards and sat back, watching the rest of the game. 

Coco reached for his phone - it had been a couple of hours since he had heard from Letty, and he needed to check in with her. As the lock screen vanished, Coco choked on his beer. “Bro, you okay?” Gilly smacked Coco’s back as he scrambled to keep the phone away from view. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ma call Letty.” Excusing himself, he moved outside to the porch and privacy. 

He took a deep breath  and opened the message again. There you were - well, parts of you anyways - on his screen, posing seductively in the shirt from Letty. He felt his face flush as he studied the picture again - he was stunned. You were Letty’s friend - well, mentor - whatever the fuck you were, and this was not something he expected. 

You stood in the corner - watching the last match of beer pong as you waited for Coco’s response. It had been ten minutes - was he offended? Was he uninterested? Why did you care if he was either? Taking another shot, you took another risk and sent a tongue-in-cheek message, “Can I go for a ride?” 

Coco lit another cigarette - inhaling as he read the next message in the chat. “Fuck me.” His voice was breathless as he typed, “Any time you want, ma” and sent it without a thought. 

Your heartbeat quickened as you felt your phone vibrate in your lap. You were sandwiched in an Uber on the way to In N Out. You read the message and smiled, “Tonight?” was the only reply you could think of.