#step aerobics at home

[fruitcage]

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.6K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh, won't you stay, just a little bit longer. Please let me hear, you say that you will, Say you will."

- Stay By Maurice Williams and The Zodiacs

IV. MOUNTAIN LAKE, VIRGINA: 1963

The man in front of you was not part of your vacation plans. He was half naked, sweaty, annoyed and scowling. The man in front of you was a stranger. 

Except he wasn’t. 

Was he?

You knew his name by now, something you’d only learnt on Monday, or perhaps the day before. Steve, Steve Herringbone or Barrington or something. He didn’t like it when you called him Steven and he certainly didn’t like it when you argued back. 

But this was supposed to be a getaway, a small summer break where you could maybe sneak a smoke by the lake when everyone had returned to their cabins and the geriatric morning yoga was done. Except your dad knew the owner of the summer retreat, a huge house settled in the Virginia countryside, the forest greener than it was back home. Bauman’s Mountain House was host to many golf courses, a fencing team, seventeen rowboats, an archery club, the best water aerobics in the state and an award winning dance show. 

The very latter included the man in front of you. 

Tall, broad shouldered and tanned from the summer, Steve Harrington was handsome and painstakingly so. Brown hair that he always tried to tame by pushing his hand through it, brown eyes and too many freckles to count. He wore a gold chain around his throat, black slacks and a leather jacket on his days off, driving around the resort in a BMW that made too much noise, but he didn’t seem to care. 

He cared even less about his bad reputation and loud ways when his partner broke her foot weeks before the final show, a tiny girl called Nancy that you were unreasonably jealous of at first sight. You watched them both on your first night, sat between your mother and father as they took to the stage, dancing flawlessly, fluidly, like they were one whole person. You watched the way she touched him, an easy familiarity that had your stomach feeling unsettled and something inside of you burned when her hand brushed the man’s neck, holding onto him as he dipped her low, her fingers trapping two little moles and hiding them from sight. 

You’d blamed the cheap cocktails and called it a night. 

But then your father found him arguing with Mr Bauman about the show and suddenly you were volunteered against your own volition, your parents talking loudly and proudly about talent shows and dance lessons when you were much younger, boldly exaggerating about how must’ve been a dancer in another life as you shook your head and tried to escape back to the gazebo by the shoreline.

Now you were left spending your evenings with Steve Harrington and his tight trousers in a cabin that was much smaller than your own. There was a leak in the corner, a consistent drip from a missing nail in the roof and rainwater splashed against the wooden floor as if it were counting down the seconds. 

As if it were counting down to— something. 

It had rained every night since you had started seeing Steve, the stifling afternoons giving way to humid evenings that always started to smell like rain by six o’clock, sweet tea and lemonade taken over by the scent of a new downpour. There had been threats of storms, chattering of it during breakfast in the main dining hall, grumbles of it from groundskeepers during bowling on the green. 

But nothing wild, not yet. 

Steve had scowled the entire time he was with you, minutes and hours spent with a frown on his face as he did his best to avoid touching you, mumbling something about getting the timings right, about learning the steps and the footwork before putting it all together. It was tedious now, repetitive and too warm in his small room and even with the bed pushed to the wall, there was barely space to avoid brushing up against him when you moved. 

You were flushed, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and the same sheen made Steve’s lips look glossy, his hair sticking to his forehead in curls and flicks. You rolled your eyes when he hit rewind on the tape deck, a silent order for you to take it from the top. But you didn’t move as he made quick work on his buttons, undoing them one by one until his short sleeved shirt hung open, showing off far too much skin. Lean muscle and a smattering of hair across his pecs, more skating down the line of his navel and you sucked in a breath, pretending you hadn’t stood on your own foot. 

“It’s too fuckin’ warm,” he complained, circling you as he spoke, watching you for more errors, inspecting your footwork, your posture, the way your held your head up and squared off your shoulders. 

“No shit,” you couldn’t help but bite back. “How’d you think I feel?”

You wore denim shorts to his black slacks, but your cotton T-shirt was sticking to your torso now, the baby pink material too heavy and restricting for the heat inside the cabin. You pressed your lips together and moved, eyes on the wall ahead of you, your right foot moving in front of your left before you twisted your hips half a turn and—

“Take it off, then.”

You blinked, your framework going slack as you dropped both your arms and your jaw. You were hardly prudish, but something about this man had set you on edge since you’d first seen him. An electrical buzz every time you looked at him, fizzing through your bones, an invisible string tied to your insides pulling and pulling and pulling you closer. You’d ignored it until these dance practices, always turning in the other direction, putting the entire resort between you both. 

But now… now?

He was standing all of three feet away, cheeks flushed from the heat and his chest on show, his hands behind his head and his fingers buried in his hair in frustration as he stared at you. Like he was challenging you. The muscles in his arms were flexed, taut cords and lines that showed off how hard he work at his job and you couldn’t help but stare. 

“What?” You demanded it, a bite of an answer. 

“Your shirt,” Steve nodded to the pink material, brows raised like it were obvious. He almost rolled his eyes. “Take it off.”

Above you, the rain outside fell a little harder, a consistent din against the thin roof. 

You didn’t say anything. You just hoped you didn’t lose your cool as you reached for the hem of your t-shirt, untucking it from your shorts. The cotton stuck to you uncomfortably, dragging against your skin as you raised it up and over your head, the brief second where your eyesight was blinded a terrifying prospect. 

Was he looking? At you? Was he watching? Did he care?

By the time you’d balled up the offending fabric and tossed it in the corner, Steve had turned his back to you, pressing some buttons on the tape deck until the song - some kind of mambo - played for the beginning again. You couldn’t see his face but you wondered if he’d caught sight of your bra, as plain as it may have been. White cotton, thin with scalloped edges and a tiny pink bow between the cups. Hardly sexy, nothing near scandalous, but there was certainly a lot more skin showing now. 

Slick, damp skin that you wondered if he’d touch. It was like he wasn’t allowed to, the way he skirted around you all of the time, his hands shoved into his pockets when he wasn’t demonstrating the next step, a fist pressed to his chin as he watched you repeat his instructions, a wide palm always hovering just out of reach of your lower back when he scolded you for slouching, like he’d went to put his hands on you - only to pull catch himself at the last second. 

“You gotta loosen your hips,” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he turned back around. His eyes were on the floor before he finally dragged them up your legs and over your bare stomach. He sucked in a breath. “You’re too rigid.”

“You told me to hold my shoulders,” you retorted, knowing fine well that he’d bitched about your ‘noodle arms’ for days. 

“Yeah, your upper body needs to be squared off. Hold yourself tight from here up,” Steve gestured to your waist with the side of his hand. He didn’t touch you, but you could feel the heat radiate from him. “But from here?” He tapped at the button on your shorts. 

You froze. 

“From here down, you need to put a bit of swing in the hips, alright?” He spun, putting himself behind you but you could see him in the mirror that leant against the cabin wall, an old looking thing that was too ornate to be here. Once gold, it had carvings of cherubs on the frame, tiny wreaths and rosettes intertwined with ancient style busts. “It’s a mambo, sweetheart, put a little heat into it.”

The tape begun again and Steve leant against a dresser, arms folded across his bare chest, his open shirt plastered to his skin. He watched you, waiting. The intro played and you counted the beats, nodding your head to each note and before you could hit the mark. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside and you were suddenly reminded of a man that looked like Steve, standing and watching you like that in a room much smaller than this, lit by firelight, dressed like a fighter. 

“You missed the count,” Steve sighed, exasperated. 

His hair had been longer, his face bruised and bleeding, but it looked just like him. A familiar scene, like you’d maybe seen it in a movie, but it felt more like a dream you didn’t recall having. You looked down at your feet, chest heaving, lips parted in confusion and you were only more dazed when you saw your bare legs and not the long skirts you expected. Your body didn’t feel like yours, not really. 

Like it was borrowed, or broken. 

You turned, facing Steve as if you expected him to be dressed differently, in leathers and studs and pleats, but he was still the same, just looking at you as if you’d suddenly fallen ill. Maybe you had. 

“Drink some water,” he ordered, and yes, that sounded like a really good idea. “Then we’ll go again.”

You chugged the bottle, the water tepid and hard to swallow but you gulped it down greedily, praying against heat stroke or whatever else it could be that could be plaguing you with such hallucinations. You swiped at your lips and closed your eyes before you turned back to the boy and when you did, he looked the same as he always did. 

Annoyed, tired, pretty. 

“C’mere,” Steve said briskly, crooking a finger at you. You stepped towards him, unsure of what he was asking you, lingering awkwardly with a few feet of space between you. Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I mean— here.”

He touched you then, his hand reaching out to grasp your own as he pulled you forward, closer than you’d ever been. There was barely space for a prayer between you both. 

You thought that his hand in yours would’ve made you feel something, a spark, a fizz, that buzz that you felt in your bones around him. But something else settled over you instead, a strange familiarity, a longing for a home you didn’t know or didn’t remember, like Steve touching you was hardly anything new. His touch made you think of the sea, of vast gardens, of islands and storms and great wars, ruby wine and promises that seemed impossible to keep. 

From the unsettled look in Steve’s eye as he stared down at you, you thought that maybe he felt the same thing. 

But then he was fussing, moving his feet into the right position and mumbling about your stance. His hand took you with him as he moved, less than an inch separating your bare stomach from his and you let him direct you as he pleased, waiting for the song to reply from the top. The drums began, a cacophony of instruments you’d never be able to name joining in. 

And then Steve was counting, his eyes suddenly fixed on yours as he nodded to the beat. “And five, six, seven—”

Steve’s other hand was on your waist. 

His palm felt huge, big enough to envelop your side and his thumb was pressed into the soft of your belly, just below your ribcage. His fingers were splayed out over your bare back, his skin warm against your own and you’d never felt so completely consumed by just one touch. You were reminded of white sheets and hazy mornings, the taste of fresh bread and an open window that looked out to blue skies and you could hear a fountain spraying water. 

But you were moving before you could consider it, what it meant, what it was, if it was possible to have someone else’s memories trapped in your head. Steve moved and you followed, your feet chasing his step by step as he walked you back and forth, his hips turning into yours on each beat, his shoulders set and his chin held high, ever the professional. 

“Don’t look at your feet,” he murmured, barely heard over the music. “Chin up. Look at me.”

You didn’t know how to tell him it hurt to do so, how looking into his eyes this close felt like giving in, it felt like being stitched back together without any medication. You had never been aware of any wounds in your body, but this man you barely knew seemed to fill the space very well. 

So you did, holding your breath until your chest burned, your eyes meeting Steve’s as you clasped his hand in your own and gripped his shoulder, letting him lead you around the cabin floor. The storm raged on, louder than before, more threatening now, like it was arguing, fighting, scolding. 

The rain poured harder and what little evening light there had been was now dampened, the setting sun hidden behind navy and violet coloured clouds - but the heat was just as oppressive. Steve turned you, a twist of his body that led into yours as you spun on your toes, and when he caught you— when he caught you, his hand moved lower, slipping down your overheated skin until his fingers grazed the denim waistband of your shorts. 

Maybe he saw you falter, maybe he saw your lips part, but Steve sucked in a breath and kept moving, his chest brushing your own as you stepped into his space as he danced into yours, torso meeting, separating, meeting, separating, meeting—

“Keep count,” he reminded you. “Keep counting the beats.” 

You nodded, Steve’s face startlingly closer than before, as if he’d forgotten his boundaries, the box he created with strong arms, the one that kept him professional as a dancer, standing tall and strong. Now his elbows were bent, his hand falling from yours so both of his palms could bracket your hips and it was too much, it was everything you’d ever wanted, it was something you felt like you’d once had. 

You just couldn’t remember who had taken it away from you. 

Lightning lit the cabin, the storm over the resort, the sky black. 

“Remember your hips,” he whispered, and god, god, his forehead was almost touching yours, his nose drawing a line against your own as his eyelids dropped and his lashes fanned his pink cheeks. His hands guided your waist, moving you from side to side, following the rhythm. “Listen to the beat.”  

You were sure he meant the music, but it was impossible to ignore the thud of his heart against your own chest. You could feel yours even more so, a constant drumming that seemed to seep into your bones, making them crack at the edges, something blooming between them, something new and old and familiar and exciting. 

Like driving into your street after a long vacation, like falling into your own bed after too many weeks away, smelling the laundry detergent that clung to everyone else that you loved. It felt hopeful, like the beginning of the morning when the only thing that had entered your thoughts was the way the sun looked in the sky, how pink it was, how the clouds seemed softer than the day before. 

Steve pushed at your hips, holding them as you swayed from side to side, your hands leaving the safety of his shoulders to slip up, holding the sides of his neck, the heat of his skin scalding your palms and he nodded, pupils blown wide and lips parted as he stared down at you in amazement, like he was seeing you for the very first time. 

Like he was seeing you for the first time after a very long time apart. 

“Good,” he told you softly, like he was still teaching you, like this was still professional. Like he hadn’t put his hand on your lower back and obliterated whatever wall someone else had built between you. Something that had once seemed so strong was knocked down so easily, like not even a god could keep it between you. “Good. Like that, just like that—”

He swore when you moved closer, emboldened by his pretty eyes and the way his gaze tracked down your chest, down your bare stomach. His fingers flexed on your hips, blunt nails tattooing your skin and you hoped the marks would stay there, you hoped they’d be there tomorrow so you could remember that this wasn’t a dream. 

His leg found its way between yours, the song finally slowing to the last few drumbeats and you knew this was the time where you were supposed to spin in Steve’s arms and raise your hand in a grand finish. But Steve tucked your hips close to his instead and let his thigh push into the seam of your denim shorts. 

The song that came on next was slower, lazier, languid. 

The singer had a deeper voice, the drums rolling with a dirtier beat and this wasn’t the mambo, this wasn’t a salsa and it certainly wasn’t anything you’d do in a ballroom never mind on stage in front of others. You’d seen this kind of dancing once before, the night after you first arrived at Bauman’s. You hadn’t meant it, but a walk along the lake after the sun had set had led you to a larger cabin at the back of the resort, where the lights were on and the music was loud. 

Music like this. 

A guy at the door with long curls and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips had appraised you, one eyebrow lifted at your little white summer dress and tennis shoes. 

“You work here?” He’d asked and you had shaken your head, ready to walk back the way you came. “You a snitch?” He asked after a pause. 

Again, you shook your head ‘no’ and listened as the music inside got louder. The man, who you were sure you’d seen on stage during dinner, playing the guitar for the dining  guests, just shrugged. He’d nodded to a stack of beer crates at the side of the building.

“Grab a case and keep your mouth shut, alright?” He’d opened the door for you, the music louder than ever, the smell of smoke and weed and sweat pouring out. You remember how’d he grinned at you as you took in the sight. “Have fun, princess.”

It’s where you’d seen Steve for the second time, in the middle of a makeshift dance floor with the bow tie and dinner jacket he’d worn during his evening performance long gone. Moving with a girl with his shirt buttons open, his hair a mess, grinding and manhandling her in a way you weren’t sure you would even call dancing. Everyone was doing the same, hips gyrating, skirts too short, men’s chests bare, the smiles meeting in an almost kiss.

It was nothing short of scandalous. 

You’d left, dumping the beer on a table beside a watermelon that almost rolled to the ground in your panic, turning from the crowd and walking out the way you’d came. The curly haired man had snorted at the sight of your wide eyes, calling out a goodbye between laughs. 

And here you were, not even two weeks later, doing the same, if not worse. Why worse? You and Steve were alone. 

Thunder cracked again, louder than before. 

It didn’t feel wrong to be doing this. In fact, for as much trouble as you’d be in if your father had had to catch you, everything about it felt right, like you’d done it before, like this man was yours to touch. But something that felt like danger lingered in the air, a threat far more serious than your dad or Mr Bauman. 

But still, you let your body move with Steve’s, a slow grind of your hips into his and when your hand found the nape of his neck and your fingers twisted into his hair, Steve’s palm cupped your ass, pulling you into him, making you feel how affected he was. 

It should’ve scared you. How this man was touching you, this person you barely knew, alone in a cabin and who you were so sure had hated you only a mere ten minutes before. But Steve looked as gone as you felt, eyes filled with longing, a passion that was visible, his brows knitted together as he stared down at you hungrily, lovingly, adoringly. 

It was almost too much to bear. So you let your head fall back, body slack as you kept dancing, trusting the man to keep you upright and against his own chest and you heard Steve let out a breath at the sight of your exposed neck, the long line of it offered to him like a sacrifice. 

“That’s it,” you heard him murmur. “You feel the beat now?” His words fell on your throat, your bare skin, the top of his nose drawing a line from the base of it to your jaw, his mouth following and you were so sure he wasn’t talking about the music anymore. 

But you nodded, clinging to him when he dipped you backwards, his hands holding you like you were precious, like you were made of marble and gold and suddenly you felt like Steve could’ve been. Like someone had taken a piece of the earth and grown this man from it, just for you. Like he had something ancient in his bones, like whatever he was made of you, you were created from the same thing too. 

When he pulled you back up, effortless and graceful, you were closer than before, impossibly so. Chests meeting in the middle as you both panted into each other's parted lips, noses meeting and foreheads touching. Steve’s hands were curled around your waist, fingers splayed across your naked back as if he couldn’t bear not to touch every part of you. Your hand was on his neck, your fingers brushing over two moles on his tanned skin, the ones you’d watched Nancy touch before you. 

But as you pressed your fingertips to them, your lips buzzed and Steve let out a sigh, like you’d unravelled a knot in his spine, like you’d found a magic button that fixed him. Like you’d touched a place that you’d once touched before. 

“You’ve never touched me before,” you whispered, voice cracking on each syllable because it suddenly was too much. 

Steve looked pained, lashes fluttering as his gaze dropped to your lips and he struggled to find the right words to give you. “I— I shouldn’t be doing it now,” he murmured. “I’m not allowed.”

“Why? Because of your boss? My dad?” 

He grinned, a smirk that faltered too quickly and he shook his head, still not moving from you, his nose nudging yours as he struggled to keep himself from shifting closer still. “You’d think that should’ve been enough to keep me away.” Steve licked his lips and you tracked the movement, so sure that he’d taste like summer and salt and the peach tea from the diner. “Not even the threat of losing my damn job and house can keep me away from you.”

His words had an effect on you, breath hitching, chest aching. “Then who said you’re not allowed?”

The song was still going, a lazy beat that was easy to sway to, Steve’s leg still wedged between your thighs and his hands were wandering, sensual and slow, a whole other kind of dance over your skin. Fingers gripped at your waist before one hand trailed down your hip, over your bare thigh, ghosting over the line of your torn off shorts. He brought your thigh to his hip, hitching your leg high, pressing you both together until you could feel him all, until he could feel all of you.

Laid bare enough for you to feel like he could take the very soul of you from your body.

You found that you didn’t mind the idea of it at all.

“You’ll laugh at me,” Steve murmured but he didn’t sound embarrassed at all, like he didn’t actually believe that you would.

You shook your head, nose brushing against the tip of his and if you moved another inch, just one, you could’ve been kissing him, mouth slotting against his. “I won’t,” you promised.

“I started having dreams when you came,” Steve told you. “Dreams where it always rained and the sky was always dark. And there was a man there, a thing, maybe. But he felt ancient, older than the fucking world and he told me to stay away, to keep away from you.”

You didn’t laugh. No. No, in fact, you didn’t say a damn thing.

Steve laughed, breathless and without any humour, and his hand trailed back up your thigh as your leg dropped slowly to the floor. He spun you both, lazy and languid, but the world around you both still blurred. The cabin faded away, a mix of the low lights and the colours of his quilt on the bed. 

You could barely hear the storm, but god, it was the loudest it had been.

“I want to do ungodly things with you,” Steve confessed and he sounded pained, his throat tight with the same kind of emotion you felt, like you were both sharing the same heart. “I want to do ungodly things to you.”

“Steve--”

“I know it sounds crazy, but there’s somethin’-- somethin’ in the sky or in the goddamn cracks of the earth that’s telling me I shouldn’t.” His bottom lip grazed your top one, an almost kiss, a whisper of one, a mere idea of it. Hardly a touch. “That something real bad will happen if we do.”

You couldn’t explain it, just like you couldn’t explain your sudden proximity to the man, the achingly familiar closeness you felt. But you knew, somehow, some way, Steve was right. 

Tears stung your eyes, a fiery nip that you tried to blink away and when the music slowed to a stop and the next song began, Steve kept moving, your body melted to his, no space between either of you to be able to determine where you ended and he began.

Your voice cracked when you spoke. “What should we do?”

Steve took a breath before he answered, one hand coming up to push against your hairline, his palm coasting down your cheek, holding you, cherishing you. His touch was hot with adoration. 

“We can keep dancing.”

[catladyoftheyr]

Too Sweet Ch. 4

Ch: (1) (2) (3) (5)

Harvey x Gn reader

Summary: you stumble upon Harvey leaving Caroline’s dance aerobics class and startle him. He accidentally drops his dumbbells on your foot and has to patch you up <3

Word count: 1.6

A/n: vhs because in my heart stardew is set in the 90s. Also he can lift you because his dance aerobics class is WORKING OKAY lmaooo I just thought it was cute 🥰

You woke up groggy, regretting the decision to pack light when you moved to the Valley. You missed your coffee maker. You desperately wanted to roll over, to pull the sheets back over your head and sleep for just 5 more minutes. But you knew yourself well enough that 5 minutes would turn into 20. You had animals to feed and crops to tend to. You dragged yourself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before sliding your feet into your work shoes. Getting dressed could wait, you decided.

The summer air was muggy and you knew that sooner rather than later your clothes would start to stick and your hair would start to frizz. You let the animals out to graze and deftly avoided stepping on any chickens while you made your way over to the new barn you'd commissioned from Robin. A small calf poked her head out of the barn door and mooed. “Good morning to you too, Daisy.” You gave her a gentle pet on the head and she nuzzled back affectionately.

The barn and the calf had drained the last of your money. You’d have to sell directly to Pierre today if you wanted cash to buy any more seeds. You dressed for the day and headed back outside to assess what you could sell. You’d managed to craft some rudimentary sprinklers after finding a book full of blueprints your grandfather had left behind. It saved watering time, but you still had to harvest everything manually. You arranged a large basket full of everything you could part with before heading into town.

The bell on the door rang as you walked into the general store. Pierre greeted you as you set the large basket on the counter. “You’re selling today?”

“I need more seeds and tomorrow’s Wednesday.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You just omitted the fact that you were flat broke as well.

“Well I’m happy to help out. It’ll be great to have some fresh from the farm produce to offer.” Pierre took his time examining the goods you’d brought, carefully placing each item on the counter and punching numbers into his calculator. You made idle chit chat as the women from Caroline’s dance aerobics class began to file out into the store. You told Marnie that the calf was settling in just fine, thanked Robin again for her hard work on your barn. Emily told you what she was getting Gus for his birthday and overheard Jodi ask Caroline what she should make for dinner. You heard Pierre announce your total and you exchanged most of your meager earnings for seeds, pocketing the rest. You were turning to leave when you saw one more person enter the store from the house. Was that…. Harvey?

You rubbed your eyes thinking you might have made a mistake, but this town was small and that was definitely the local doctor standing there. He held a pair of small dumbbells, and you noticed sweatbands on his wrists and forehead. He wore a pair of small shorts and a t-shirt boasting what you assumed was his alma mater. You walked over to say hello and tapped him playfully on the shoulder. Harvey spun around, seemingly frightened by the unexpected touch. He dropped the dumbbells in surprise and you felt them land directly on your foot. You swore and jumped back, hopping on your good foot.

“I’m so sorry!” You both shouted in unison, apologizing to the other for different things. “I didn’t mean to startle you-“

“Your foot!”

“I think it’s okay really. I should head home.”

“You should let me examine it. The clinic is next door.” Harvey’s face displayed genuine concern, and you were secretly worried that your foot was broken. You relented, hoping the injury wasn’t going to impact your farm work. You turned around to head outside and winced as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot. You inhaled sharply and tried to find a way to walk. Harvey took notice of your efforts and wrapped one arm around your waist while draping one of yours across his shoulders. “Let me help you.”

You’d never been this close. You felt your face flush and hoped he wouldn’t notice. The act of chivalry seemed to come so naturally to him. You made your way to the clinic slowly, relishing the feeling of his arm on your waist. Harvey helped you through the doors of the clinic, allowing you to sit down on a bench in his waiting room. “Thank you” you whispered as you adjusted your positioning.

“It’s the least I could do. I can’t apologize enough for what happened. Now let’s take a look.” Harvey was especially gentle as he knelt in front of you; He unlaced your shoes, sliding off the sock of the injured foot. He pursed his lips as he examined you.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I just wasn’t expecting to see you today; at least not in Caroline’s group.”

“You need to stop apologizing.” Harvey fell silent for a moment, contemplating his next words. “I joined as a way to try and stay active. I’m not as young as I once was; it’s getting harder to stay In shape.” His face had a hint of flush to it as he spoke. You wouldn’t dream of saying it, but you found it incredibly endearing. You also couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. Harvey typically wore slacks and blazers. You trailed your vision down the lines of his arms and imagined running your fingers over the veins. His legs had a considerable amount of hair and you traced it as it disappeared under the hem of his shorts. His physique reminded you of someone’s dad, you could picture him wearing socks and sandals and denim shorts while he stood behind a grill.

“I think it’s nice that you’re making the decision to do what’s healthy. And all the women in that group are really nice. Caroline gives me some tea leaves from the bushes in her sunroom. You picked good friends.”

“Thank you. Can you promise me you won’t tell anyone else, though? Word spreads fast in small towns. I’m not ready for everyone to know about this.” His face flushed deeper, a clear shade of red now.

“I promise.” You extended your arm toward him and stuck out the pinky on your hand. “I pinky swear it.” Harvey chuckled and smiled at you before hooking his own pinky in yours and shaking hands.

Turning his focus back to your door he frowned as he felt around it gently. Even the soft touches hurt and you hissed quietly when he hit an especially sore spot. He prompted you through rotations and flexes before rising to his feet. “The good news is it’s not broken. But it’s bruised pretty badly. The swelling should go down significantly in a couple hours and you should be able to work on it tomorrow. But you need to stay off it for the rest of the day if you want it to heal. I’ll wrap it for you in a second, but you should probably ice and elevate it as well.”

The doctor disappeared behind the doors and you heard the sounds of drawers and cupboards opening and closing. You sighed and shook your head while you tried to stop the montage of scenes from today from replaying in your mind. Images of Harvey in athletic shorts, his smile as he linked pinkies, how his hands felt on you, and the look on his face when he saw you in Pierre’s swirled around your brain. Your daydreams were interrupted when Harvey emerged holding materials to wrap your foot. He worked deftly, the years of experience showing as he wrapped the fabric around you in record time. He let out a small sigh as he finished.

“You’re all set. However as your doctor I am strongly recommending that you don’t try to walk home on that foot yet. You could delay your recovery and risk further damage. Now as your friend, I’m proposing that you can come upstairs and watch a movie to stay off your feet.”

“I don’t think I can climb the stairs…”

“Leave it to me” Harvey leaned forward and swept you into his arms in one smooth motion, holding you bridal style. You gasped as your legs dangled in the air and giggled as he began to ascend the stairs carrying you. You leaned in closer, seizing the opportunity to press yourself against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he finagled the door to his apartment open. You breathed in deeply through your nose, trying to hold onto his scent before he set you down on his couch. He pulled his coffee table closer to the couch to allow you to rest and elevate your foot.

The doctor strode to a shelf near the tv that held an extensive collection of VHS tapes. He hummed as he browsed through the titles before selecting one. He popped the tape into the VCR. He settled onto the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the fabric of his t-shirt against your arm. The movie was in black and white, definitely a classic. “I put in The Zuzu City Express. It’s one of my favorites” Harvey explained almost sheepishly. You hadn’t picked him as a film buff.

You tried to focus on the film, but the truth is you were exhausted from the stressful day. Harvey’s arm was draped across the back of the couch. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. He made no effort to move you, no indication that the action was unwanted. You relaxed and a yawn escaped. Your eyelids grew heavier as you tried harder to pay attention to the movie. Harvey’s arm moved to rest across the back of your neck, his hand falling on your shoulder as you drifted off.

[untitled5071]

Here's a one shot for you(if you don't mind another one for me) Taffy finds out about the monster sooner via going into Lisa's closet. The situation ends up like that scene from Et. And Lisa makes Taffy promise to keep it secret. Honestly the monster ends up more scared from all the screaming than Taffy.

I hope you like this one, I love messing around in canon.

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Lis, have you seen my chunky white belt? I can’t remember if I ever got it back after you borrowed it for that brunch last month.”

If her stepsister responded, then Taffy couldn’t hear her, already too far away and crossing the threshold into Lisa’s bedroom to look for her missing accessory. It would go so well with the denim jacket she wanted to wear to Lori’s after practice that night, and she was sure that Lisa was the last person to wear it. Taffy was a little worried about her; she didn’t believe that she was crazy like her mom said, but she had to admit that when they came home from the movies last night and found the house trashed and Lisa, pajamas colored with a mysterious green stain and insisting it was a home break in, it didn’t look too good for her. But she was still determined to treat her as normally as possible, and give her the support their parents clearly wouldn’t. 

That’s what sisters were for, after all. 

Speaking of their parents, Dale had left for work already and her mom was at her morning aerobics class, so it was up to Taffy and Lisa to get themselves ready and to school on time. She hadn’t seen Lisa yet that day, their morning routines being just different enough to keep their paths from crossing. But when Taffy entered Lisa’s room, it was empty, meaning her stepsister must be either in the downstairs bathroom or having breakfast. 

Humming a little Blondie to herself, Taffy crossed over to Lisa’s closet, taking a second to look at the poster of the weird moon with the face that Lisa insisted on hanging on the doors. She had tried to show Taffy the movie once, but despite her best efforts Taffy just…didn’t get it. But Lisa seemed to appreciate the fact that she tried, and that was good enough for her. 

She was so engrossed in thoughts of other movies she and Lisa could watch that they might actually bond over that she didn’t really notice the man sitting on the floor of Lisa’s closet until she was already screaming.

To his credit, the man screamed too, a guttural sound made with a decaying and blackened mouth, which only made Taffy’s pitch rise. She didn’t stop as she sprinted through the bathroom, the hall, a third of the way down the stairs and smack-dab into Lisa, who was shouting and clearly headed up to see what the commotion was about. The two of them tumbled down the remaining few steps together in a jumble of limbs, landing at the bottom with a crash. Taffy didn’t even bother to assess her own bruises or ask Lisa if she was okay before she was on her feet and pulling her sister with her. 

“Holy SHIT Lisa, we have to go, get up, we’ve gotta get out of here, there’s a guy in your closet, we’ve got to call 911, get to the car before he-AAAA!”

Taffy’s ramblings were cut off by a renewed bout of screams as she pointed at the specter that had just appeared at the top of the stairs, groaning at the two of them. She sidestepped as quickly as she could to get in front of Lisa in case he tried to make a move; every instinct she had was screaming for her to save herself, but she refused to let Lisa go down the same path her mom did if she could help it. But to her surprise, her sister was somehow quicker, ducking under Taffy’s arm and sprinting up the stairs so that she was stationed between the two, arms out like she was trying to break up a school fight. 

“Woah woah woah, everyone just SHUT UP!”

Taffy was still getting used to hearing Lisa speak at all, so hearing her shout was incredibly effective. The sound in the room died almost immediately, the man shutting his mouth and looking a little too eager to do as Lisa said. Lisa took a deep breath before turning to Taffy, who refused to take her eyes off the stranger while her sister’s back was turned to him. 

“Thank you. That’s better. Okay so, I was totally not planning on making introductions this early, or at all if I’m being honest, but here goes nothing. Taff, you remember how I was telling you about my favorite grave in Bachelor’s Grove the other night on the way to the party?”

Taffy risked taking her eyes off the sallow man at the top of the stairs just long enough to flick them to Lisa in confirmation. 

Her sister held her hands up to the man in an exaggerated “ta da” gesture that left Taffy less impressed and more horrified. She looked in between the two frantically, not wanting to believe it. 

“This…this is him?”

Lisa nodded, and ascended the last few stairs to join the corpse-holy fuck there was a corpse standing in her house-at the top, gently grabbing hold of his arm and pointing to where Taffy was standing in the foyer. 

“My sister, Taffy.”

The dead man inclined his head and grunted in acknowledgement, and Taffy took a second to look at him. His skin was pallid and a little green, pulled tight over old bones. His right hand-was there even a hand there?-was wrapped in a green cloth, and his eye sockets were sunken, contrasting against impossibly bright pupils. His hair was shaggy and black, and he sported some totally old-fashioned mutton chops. Every alarm bell in Taffy’s head was still pinging away, but Lisa seemed perfectly comfortable around him, and she took a moment to adjust…

“Is that my green blazer?”

To her credit, Lisa had the sense to look sheepish, shrugging with a small smile. 

“Sisters share?”

Before Taffy could decide if she was happy about Lisa acknowledging their sisterhood or disgusted that she took advantage of said sisterhood to give her clothes to a dead man, Lisa descended the stairs again, approaching Taffy almost cautiously while the creature watched them from above. Lisa stopped right before she got to the cheerleader, reaching out like she was going to take her hand but stopping halfway, instead choosing to fiddle with her black lace sleeves. She didn’t meet Taffy’s eyes as she spoke. 

“Listen, Taff. I know this is like…a wicked big ask, but do you think you could help me keep him a secret? I don’t want him to get like…shot or burned alive or whatever, and once you get over the smell he’s really sweet, and it would really mean a lot to me. Please?”

Lisa's bright blue eyes blinked up at her, hands clasped as she pleaded. Honestly, all of this was way too much for Taffy to process at 6:45 and the morning and definitely too much for her to process sober, so she just nodded, mentally making a note to drill Lisa on the circumstances behind the corpse’s presence later, as well as the corpse’s intentions with her sister. 

Lisa seemed pleased that introductions had gone better than expected. She smiled brighter than Taffy had seen her in a long time and patted her dead crush on the shoulder. 

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, you need to get back into my closet, and we need to go to school to have a totally normal day of hiding totally normal secrets. Meet you at the car in 5, Taff? Okay great, see you then!”

Without waiting for an answer, Lisa gave her stepsister a hurried thumbs up and literally pushed her undead friend into her bedroom, her black lace skirts flowing behind her. Taffy stared blankly at the spot where they had been standing, wondering if she had the mental capacity to drive after all this, yet alone to do calculus, before the image of Lisa’s outfit finally resonated with her. 

“Wait, is that my dress?”

[archie-sunshine]

So, What Now?(Rehabili/Cohabi-tation)

Chapter 6: In Which Robots are Poorly Constructed for the Purposes of Doing Yoga

FIC TAGS: Eventual Whirl/Cyclonus/Tailgate, Cyclonus/Tailgate, polyamory, slowburn romance, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, comedy, eventual smut(planned for later chapters), sappy mushy lovey stuff, polycue, May eventually have illustrations

The Lost Light has a brand new universe to explore! But everyone's still tired from the old one! In the interim between wacky hijinks, a solution is offered to those bored to death by peacetime- Why form a club about it or renovate your hab suite of course!

Whirl doesn't know how he feels about all the pep. And even worse, he doesn't know how to feel about Cyclonus and Tailgate wanting him to join in on their clean slate. 

Other Chapters Here! Read on AO3 Here!

_________________________

Author's Notes: THIS! IS! MY! FAVOURITE! CHAPTER! YET! or at least- well of the ones posted so far. this whole chapter is DESPERATELY silly, read into it whichever ships you so desire

CHAPTER TAGS: robots doing yoga, suggestively looking at your friends (whirl's optics wander a bit), comedy, slapstick, tailgate is a little old man with little old man joints, continuing fluff and cutesiness !

A few more cycles had passed. Whirl had insisted he needed time to get his hab suite in order and cleared out to move, but really, he was mostly just nervous. It was a big step, surely it was an intrusion, even if the couple didn’t know yet how he might sour their home with his presence. He tiptoed around the edge of their circle, even as they dragged him closer to them. 

Whirl was in his hab suite, quietly packing junk into crates, as he had been for a few hours now. It gave him something to do at least, rather than carving more graffiti into the walls. 

He perked up briefly as a comm came through.

TG: New club this afternoon, meet in the shuttle hangar in 4 hours! -Tailgate

Whirl breathed out in amusement.

W: Sure, I’ll be there.

*

The hangar was abuzz with movement, a small group of bots gathered around. Whirl hesitated to join the crowd. There were Cyclonus and Tailgate, standing near the edge of the group, Rewind-assumedly there to record- then there was Rodimus, and Ratchet(surprisingly) and Velocity again(less surprising) and then, hulking over the rest of them was fragging Megatron. Whirl had assumed- clearly incorrectly- that of those in charge of the ship Megatron would have the least patience or time or care for this whole CBEI business. 

Tailgate glanced around, finally noticing Whirl and waving him over. He trotted over to them, glancing over Cyclonus’s shoulder. 

“-afety purposes, we’re going to be using some of these maintenance magnetizers, so that we’re able to do our cyber-yoga class under the stars on the hull of the ship!” Drift explained cheerfully. Ah, so that's why Ratchet was attending.

Whirl’s optic scrunched. He leaned a bit further into Cyclonus to mumble in his audial. “Whats a cyber-yoga?” 

“It’s a mixture of stretching and meditation, I believe. Some sort of ancient technique to loosen the joints and pistons to promote greater nanite recovery and flexibility.” He explained under his breath. 

“And- we’re doing it on the outside of the ship? Why?” Whirl probed.

“Have you seen how large some of the bots who signed up are? They’d collapse under the ship’s false gravity.” Cyclonus glanced very briefly at Megatron. 

“Oh primus- is this one of those stupid anti-grav aerobic class things for oldies?” Whirl groaned. “Come on, I can see this for Tailgate’s ancient aft, but, us-?” Whirl jolted as Tailgate playfully punched him in the leg, giving him an exaggerated look of offense. 

“It’s good for you!” Tailgate hissed. 

Whirl leaned down patronizingly, his helm breaching Tailgate’s personal bubble. “Yea, it’s great for you though, old brittle bolts- Ow!” Whirl jumped when Cyclonus began to pinch at one of his blades. 

“Now, let's all get outfitted with our magnetizers, and it’ll be a brief space walk to the top of the hull for some relaxing cyber-yoga!” Drift said cheerfully, beginning to hand out magnetizers to the crowd. 

*

“-Now bring your left leg over the right and up towards your pelvis… and youre going to engage your restarluesus pistons… and just lower into the pose.” If Drift had one thing going for him, his flexibility was it. 

Whirl was no slouch in the flexibility department either, though his… shall we say unique frame shape made it a challenge to mimic the pose Drift was doing. 

He was standing on his servos, holding tightly onto the hand held magnetizers he’d instructed the group to connect to the hull, right leg raised to a perfect toe point, left with its heel strut jammed directly east of his modesty panel. 

Whirl glanced around. Ratchet was unsurprisingly struggling a bit. His joints were having a hard time extending to the same poise as his Conjunx. Velocity seemed to be doing just fine, with her more agile frame mirroring Drift’s pose with only a slight wobble as she struggled to stay steady. Megatron was a different story. His faceplate was set in an intense glare, which would have been intimidating were he not swaying with the effort to  keep his frame straight with his left pede flailing to find purchase somewhere near his knee. Rodimus was also doing well, though his form was suffering as he quivered in an attempt not to laugh at his co-captain's struggling. 

“Rodimus-” Megatron hissed at him.

Rodimus snorted and wheezed, cheeks puffing with strain at the display. “Nothing- nothing you're doing great, Megs-” 

Whirl turned his attention to Cyclonus and Tailgate. Cyclonus was doing decently as well, though his bulkier frame made flexibility a struggle for him. Whirl inspected his form, definitely not… letting his optic linger on Cyclonus’s aft… not even for a moment. He turned his attention away quickly. 

Tailgate- Oh, Tailgate was really trying his best. He’d gotten into the position, it was the lowering part he was having trouble with. His digits were so tight around the handles of the magnetizers he was worried the things might break off. He pulled himself, straining, down into the sort of twisted up pushup that Drift had instructed, not struggling for lack of strength, but rather for the strain of his old pistons. 

“Hhhnnnn…. I’m too spry- and youthful- of mind and spirit- for this-!” Tailgate gritted out quietly, making Whirl and Cyclonus chuckle.

“Very good! Ok, now release the pose.” Drift instructed.

A chorus of relieved groans went up across the crowd. 

“Now we’re going to do something a little more challenging.”

A chorus of pained groans went up across the crowd. 

“Now for this position you’re going to connect the magnetizers on your pedes to the hull…” Drift gracefully brought his legs down, pausing for the chorus of clunks and zaps that signaled his club was not going to go flying off into space. “And for this one, I challenge you to give your spinal strut as deep a stretch as you can!” He began to slowly curve his frame backwards, servos making contact with the hull in a back bend- and- oh primus.

“COME ON- YOU’RE JUST SHOWING OFF NOW!” Ratchet barked from the back of the crowd, his hands still groping around for the hull as Drift nestled his helm between his own ankles as he wrapped his digits around them. 

Whirl awkwardly began to mirror the pose, catching a glimpse of Tailgate ineffectually dropping into a weak crab walk and Cyclonus gritting his dentas at the strain in his back. Whirl did his best to not make a dirty joke about Cyclonus’s face being so close to his modesty panel. 

“Woah there, take me out for a drink first.” Whirl snickered. Okay so his best was rarely good enough, sue him. 

“You’re- so immature…” Cyclonus grunted out, pushing his abdomen upwards to further stretch his back strut. 

Tailgate’s giggle was interrupted by a sharp wince as something in his frame popped. “Oh- Ow- OW-!” 

Tailgate flailed a servo around in the air. “P-Pause- Time out- time out!” Cyclonus and Whirl quickly abandoned their poses to crowd worriedly around him.

“DRIFT-!” Cyclonus shouted, motioning panickedly at his sparkmate.

Drift unpretzeled himself quickly,  rushing over to his side. “Oh- what is it- AH!” Drift grimaced as he noted the shifted panels that had locked the minibot’s abdomen in place with his back arched. “Oh Primus- Great effort, Tailgate, really good job pushing yourself- um- this might feel weird.” 

“Itsfinepleasehelp-” Tailgate whined, the reedy noise breaking into a shriek as Drift brought his elbow joint right down on the disjointed plating. It set back into place with another pop. Drift rubbed at the little dent he’d left with his thumb. He frowned at the paint transfer he’d left. Ratchet balked at his conjunx’s flagrant and untrained plating reset technique with absolute horror. 

“Sorry… Just go a bit easier on yourself, okay Tailgate?” He apologized, awkwardly chuckling as Tailgate flattened himself despondently on the hull of the ship. 

“Thaaaanks Driiiift….” Tailgate wheezed, giving him a thumbs up. Drift returned the gesture with one of his own. 

“Okay-! Uhm, everyone alright to continue?” He posed to the group. A mild, affirmative murmur rippled through the bots gathered. 

Tailgate popped back upright, wheeling his arms in wide circles for a second to regain balance. 

“Try not to push yourself, TG.” Whirl teased, bumping his shoulder with his servo and snickering as his frame swayed in the antigravity. “There’s precious few of us that can nab you if you go spinning off into space.”

“And if Ratchet has to watch Drift perform impromptu chiropracty on me again he might blow a gasket.” Tailgate whispered, suppressing a giggle and bumping Whirls hip to wobble him in return. 

Whirl snickered again, bumping Tailgate back a bit harder. 

Tailgate returned in suit, just a bit too hard as Whirl bobbed almost all the way back on his aft before floating back up into place. The two of them giggled. 

*

Whirl held his vents with strain as he fumbled around for the tip of his pede. He had made connection with the tips of his claws, but was still trying to nab it fully to bring it into the right position. 

“And with your other servo, you’re going to want to bring it all the way down to the ground, I encourage you to try as best you can to flatten your palm against it, but if not, just the tips of your digits touching is fine!” Drift instructed, no strain in his voice as his pede made near contact with his massive finials. 

Cyclonus had caught hold of his own pede, and had bowed his back out to a decent simulacrum of Drift’s position. Tailgate was having more trouble extending his back strut, but with his longer pede, and some gentle coaxing from Cyclonus’s free servo, he’d managed to get close to the right position. 

Whirl was happy for them and their success. It would have been stellar, however, if their afts weren’t both in his face. His optic darted around awkwardly, attempting to not focus on Cyclonus’s blocky, powerful thighs, and Tailgate’s tight little hip tires. He could see tender bits of protoform between their joints, soft and vulnerable from the way their plating stretched apart. 

No, bad Whirl, bad. He trained his optic safely on the ground next to his other claw as he finally grabbed hold of his ankle. Had Tailgate always had such a nice aft? Had Cyclonus? What the frag was he even thinking about, it wasn’t even remotely okay to be having thoughts like this, about a happily conjunxed couple of all things. 

“Alright, and bring your pede down, and we’re going to lower into downward facing cyber-dog…” Drift explained, expelling a slow, relaxed vent. 

Okay this was getting fully unfair. The couple planted their pedes and- well you get the picture. 

Whirl glanced around, taking stock of literally anything else when he heard a well timed ‘zzzzZZTHONK!’ from his left, followed closely by an indignant ‘ARE YOU FRAGGING KIDDING ME-!!?’ from Rodimus. 

He looked over, optic widening and laughter beginning to quickly bubble up as he found Megatron’s pede magnetized to Rodimus’s chassis. 

“You should have kept a further distance, Rodimus-” Megatron observed, lightly wiggling his leg and dragging Rodimus around with him, who had begun to yank and tug at the larger bot’s leg. 

“OH- OH! OH so its- It’s my fault that your stupid slagging magnetizers are- STOP FRAGGING MOVING!” He snarled, clawing at the magnetizer on Megatron’s pede. 

“AH- Stop- You can just- RODIMUS!” Megatron boomed, again attempting to shake Rodimus’s servos off his pede. The smaller’s helm bobbed back and forth with the force of the shake, but Rodimus’s digits held firm in their attempt to rip the magnetizer off his plating.

The group had begun to laugh at their co captains’ predicament, albeit stifled and attempted to keep under wraps- save for Whirl, who was cackling to a truly hysteric degree. 

“Rodders- Roddy- RODIMUS-” Drift tried, beginning to walk over to him. “You can just- Stop- Hey- STOP-!” He smacked at Rodimus’s hands. 

“NO KEEP DOING IT, RODDERS, YOU’RE GONNA GET IT EVENTUALLY!” Whirl called. 

“Keep shaking your leg, Captain, he’ll come off I promise!” Rewind added from his perch on a protruding bit of hull, very obviously zooming in on the captains’ situation. 

“YOU WILL BE DELETING THIS FOOTAGE.” Megatron demanded, abandoning his attempt to kick Rodimus off in favour of bringing his pede up so he could reach the magnetizer himself. A loud CLUNK echoed between the pair as Rodimus’s helm bounced off of Megatron’s aft. 

The group roared with laughter as Rodimus wailed in horrific embarrassment. 

“Where’s the- grh- where’s the stupid-” Megatron grunted, pawing at the magnetizer blindly. 

“Alright- ALRIGHT- Megatron, just put your leg out- I’ll-” Drift intervened, grabbing the side of Rodimus’s head and prying their two frames apart- or as apart as he could with Megatron’s pede attached to Rodimus’s chassis. He sighed, rolling his optics and beginning to carefully prod around for the magnetizer’s off switch. 

“If I hear about anyone seeing that footage, you’re DEAD, Rewind!” Rodimus growled, pointing an accusatory digit at the minibot as he laughed and zoomed further in on the pede stuck to him. 

“Where is the- primus, I knew this bigger model was old but this is complete- AH! Is this it?” Drift prodded a digit into a button on the side and Megatron’s pede came free… leaving the magnetizer attached directly to the middle of Rodimus’s chassis. 

Whirl continued to giggle before it crumbled into a hacking chuff from his vents. 

Rodimus gave Drift an icy look. Drift bit back a smile, forcing himself not to make eye contact with him. “A-Alright uhm, It looks like we’re going to be uh-” He took a steadying vent as Rodimus began to fumble for a demagnetizing button. “We’re gonna be cutting this meeting short! Thanks so much for coming and- um, I’ll keep all of you posted on when we meet next!” He said with a broad grin, clapping his servos together. 

*

“And you promise you got all of it?” Whirl whispered, frame practically jittering with malicious glee. 

“From the moment that the magnetizer made contact, all the way to Megatron having to be dragged back to the hangar like an indignant balloon.” Rewind confirmed with a nod. “I even caught a bit of Ratchet and Velocity attempting to scrape the magnetizer off once they figured out it was on the fritz.” 

Whirl cackled evilly, hopping from pede to pede. “You’ve gotta comm me that- hell, you’ve gotta give me a hard copy of that so I can carry it to my grave.” 

“I’ll see what I can do…” Rewind mused coyly. 

“Do you think Rod’ was really serious about the consequences of spreading that around?” Tailgate asked. 

“Oh, no chance, he’d probably make a speech about it though. Maybe put him in the brig for like a week, or on riveting duty.” Whirl counted the options for punishment in his processor, leaning his arm on Tailgate’s helm and tapping out the tally on his fore-helm.

“Or have you make a formal apology, in front of everyone, perhaps.” Cyclonus added. “Or if he was adamant enough he’d likely want to cover it up before it got that far.” 

“He can’t silence me, I know my rights.” Rewind laughed. “I gotta get back to my hab though.” He sighed, stretching his arms up and folding his servos behind his helm. “All this recording is tiring me out, I need a long recharge. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, know that it's because Rodimus placed a hit on me.” 

The group laughed, trading goodbyes with Rewind before the remaining bots turned to their- now shared- hallway. 

For a while they enjoyed the comfortable silence, Cyclonus hand in hand with Tailgate, Whirl keeping a safe meter wide distance between them. 

“So, Whirl,” Cyclonus began. “Shall we begin moving your belongings to the unit soon?” 

Whirl stiffened a bit. Scrap, he’d hoped he didn’t have to think about that again today. It wasn’t that he was dragging his pedes because he didn’t want to move in- he just… It was hard to think about taking a step that big. Giving up his privacy, for what? Because they’d taken pity on him? It was weak of him, it was foolish and soft. 

He shook his helm. “Yeah- yeah, I’ll get to it soon, don’t worry.” he thought for a moment. “Where am I squeezing in anyway? You bots gotta reconfigure another suite for me?” 

The two of them glanced at one another awkwardly. 

“Well- It’s not um-” Tailgate started. 

“You wouldn’t be-” Cyclonus stammered.

“There was already-” “A full suite was too much for a berthroom-”

“Way too much, felt kinda greedy-”

“It was going to be- erm-”

“It was going to be an office!” Tailgate finished, faceplate flushed as he tapped his index digits together. “But- y’know, we don’t mind not having an office… it can be your room-” 

Whirl squinted at them, examining their avoidant body language… their faceplates flushed with energon. 

Did they really make a room for him without even confirming if he’d move in?

“Alriiiiiight….. Cool…” Whirl murmured suspiciously.

No… No they wouldn’t have done that.

*

Primus’s spike, they really did it, the crazy bastards.

The fields radiating off the two were incredibly tense, like they were holding their vents waiting for Whirl to turn on his heel-struts and walk away never to be seen again.

The room- the ‘office’ the couple had put together had a desk, a few varying chairs,  a few shelves, a filing cabinet, a wide window across the back wall, and- of course, as was standard in any office- a recharge slab. For sure, an office, you know, the place you recharge in. The area specifically designated for recharging. The office. 

Whirl put his servos on his hips, swinging his helm around to face the couple. “Great office fellas. It’s a shame to move in and interrupt the immaculate office like nature of the room. You must be devastated to no longer have use of this office.” 

“It would have made a great office, yes.” Cyclonus agreed. “It’s a shame to give it up.” 

“Don’t worry, Whirl, we think the office was a worthy sacrifice.” Tailgate nodded solemnly. 

Whirl snickered under his breath. “I’ll put it to good use… Thanks.” 

He stepped inside, glancing around one more time and letting himself relax. “I think I’ll… turn in early. Give the ol’ office berth a spin.” He walked forwards, sitting on the edge of the slab. The couple got the hint, nodding and giving thumbs ups. 

“Just let us know if you need anything!” Tailgate said, before stepping back and letting the door slide shut.

Whirl watched the door for a long klik, before slowly leaning his frame back flat on the berth. He expected that feeling to leave him again, returning him to the familiar numb chill that reached him in the nights he spent alone in his hab suite. 

It never left, though it faded to equilibrium, leaving the mech relaxed and at peace. He let his vents slow, cycled his processor down as he prepared for recharge.

His optic was about to go offline when he received a ping.

R: Supply run tomorrow, you’re on the team with CY, TG, BS, FA, UM and me. See you at the shuttle.

Whirl’s processor shot back online as he sat up. Supply run. Something was HAPPENING. He was practically vibrating with excitement for a moment, before a stubborn, foreign thought wormed its way to the front of his processor.

But that might be dangerous

Of course it was dangerous, that was why he NEEDED to go… but… He shook his helm, going back to resting. What was he thinking, it was just a normal supply run, those two had faced down against tyrants and monsters and the fucking DJD for primus’ sake. They’d be fine. 

… He’d make sure they were fine.

[bearofohu]

sdv is in desperate need of good step dad rep so i wanna ramble abt my hc for harvey and his step-daughter jordan

so in my lore my farmer franklyn had a kid from a previous marriage before he moved from the city and married harvey, and harvey adores his daughter. like oh my god. hes her biggest fan. he thinks shes the most creative funniest lil shit ever. like hes 100% convinced he has the best kid in the world and will engage in combat at the weekly mom aerobics class abt it. he was so worried she would think hes weird and gross and cringe and not her real dad but she latched onto him like a fungus

hes always super invested in her interests and is pretty good at involving himself in her parenting without trying to “replace” her bio mom. hes also not weird abt her bio mom and encourages jordan not to feel like she cant mention her around him. hes healthier abt jordan’s bio mom than franklyn is which is saying something

they are also so silly goofy like. harvey gives her the highest honor he can bestow which is his lil pilot assistant. whenever both her dads are gone at work her job is to keep an eye on the radio and sky and report any planes she saw or heard. and like no fuckin aircraft be flying over stardew valley so she makes shit up a lot but it gets harvey every time

when jordan gets older too and starts working at the museum she likes to mess with him by buying him a lot of joke gifts. like she’ll buy him a shirt that says “id rather be fortnite gaming” as a joke not at all expecting him to actually wear it. only to see him come home from work with the shirt on having worn it all day in front of his paitents

[snapthistiger]

exercise 06032024

bike ride to the gym

worked lifeguard job 445a - 1015a

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

3 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

3 x 10 cable press

3 x 10 cable row

bike ride home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses

top = riding along Parish Road about 4:30a

bottom = when i arrived at the gym, the indoor pool area had been flooded and was slowly receding. someone was adding water to the competition pool on Sunday and forgot the valve open overnight. the maintenance guy turned the water valve off. some extra squeegee and mop work this morning to try to dry the deck

work was fairly busy watching swimmers. swim team started at 630a, water aerobics at 800a and swim lessons at 830a

for the last several weeks, i have had peroneal tendonitis which is pain in the tendon on the outside of the foot. i have only been able to wear certain shoes without irritating the tendon. today it was better and i'm hoping it continues to improve

hot weather and thankfully a break from the rain

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[many-faces-of-adrian]

Adrian made the familiar trek up the mountains. Working on the farm had done him wonders. He’d never been able to make the walk without feeling out of breath.

It was probably thanks to a certain dark haired man. It was hard work, but he and Sebastian slowly went from acquaintances to hesitant friends. Maybe more someday, Adrian hoped..

He made it not long after and immediately after opening the door (Robin wasn’t home. It was Tuesday so she had an aerobics class at Caroline’s) he heard loud shouting. He hurried towards Sebastian’s room and had to leap back as the door slammed open and out stomped Demetrius, who moved past him with no acknowledgement except for a grunt.

Waiting for the man to leave, he tip toed down the creaky steps. “Sebastian...?”

@roleplay-parlour

[sissy-cheri-949-usa]

FEMINIZATION STEP #12 - AEROBICS

We will now start a fitness program, and we begin with Aerobics.

FEMINIZATION PROCESS RECAP:

(STEP #01) - PANTY HIM

(STEP #02) - MANSCAPING

(STEP #03) - PANTYHOSE

(STEP #04) - PEDICURE

(STEP #05) - SLEEPWEAR

(STEP #06) - WAIST CINCHER

(STEP #07) - NAME HE/R

(STEP #08) - LINGERIE DRAWER

(STEP #09) - BODY SHAPERS

(STEP #10) - BREAST FORMS

(STEP #11) - BRASSIERES

We want to work on slimming he/r down; before we start buying more expensive clothing.

Aerobics can be done in the privacy of your own home. Workout 5 days per week.

We want he/r in 80's style spandex leotards, leg warmers, etc. 20-30 minutes of Aerobics.

Breast forms with sports bra included. 20 Minute Workout style preferred.

White or pink FEMALE shoes.

If possible, the Wife/GF (Mistress) should join in.

Yoga pants are also good.

Just make sure he/r outfit is super girly.

If you found this article helpful please reblog. There are many CrossDressers & their Wives who need to know. Comments are welcome; please be nice, so I can learn to improve.

All Feminization Steps Here.

[happy-beeeps]

Cover Boy

Summary: Trying to come up with an idea for a fundraiser, the reader has the idea to enlist the faces of the GAR in a calendar shoot. It’s for charity!

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: Literally none aside from kissing and some sexual innuendos, also I make beach balls and pilates canon in universe sorry

Pairing: Rex x heiress!reader and platonic reader x every clone ever 

A/N: This is an absolute crack fic, I hope you had an ounce as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Also, you don't need to read my longifc for this, but it is the same reader!

* * *

Fives and yourself are in the middle of a particularly strenuous portion of the aerobics holo you’ve recorded in your living room. You’re both sweating, you in a hot pink athletic set and Fives in his blacks, you’re both huffing and puffing, trying to keep your conversation from a moment ago up.

“What about an auction?” He says, face reddening as he speaks.

You attempt to wave your hand, but the movement is lost in the switch to squats. “That’s so boring. If I’m attaching my name to a fundraiser, it’s gotta be big.” Your hands go to the side of your face to emphasize the word. “I want it to be for a cause I care about, but also something fun, ya’ know?” You huff out as the impossibly fit Salenga on the holo keeps a maddening pace of step ups and arm raises. 

“Have you even picked a cause yet?” He says, arms swinging around him as he steps up onto the small boxes you each have in front of you. 

“No,” and you sigh, a real sigh, that has you reaching for your water a few beats early. Fives follow your lead, and you leave the Salenga woman to keep working herself past the point of fit. “In my dream world, it would benefit you guys. Maybe that one foundation that donates to the orphans on Independent worlds?”

“I mean, that’s hard to do, you’d have to practically give something away for people to give us more money than they already think they have by paying taxes.” He crosses his arms and leans back on your couch. You crinkle your nose and pretend the sweat dripping into the upholstery doesn’t bother you. 

“C’mon, you’re the fun one, you’re supposed to help me with this.”

“I’m telling Jesse,” he says, and you both laugh and settle into silence as you catch your breath. That short lived silence is broken, however, by Rex opening your door, mail in hand, smiling at you. 

“Hey you,” you bolt up from the couch and walk over to him, swinging your arms around his neck and pulling him for a kiss. You love when he’s home on Coruscant, when he can come home from meetings with the General and stay at your apartment. It's so domestic.

He smiles into it, putting the mail on the island and wrapping an arm around your waist. “You two kids have fun?” He asks, looking at the worn out shape of his brother melted over your sofa. “Did you kill him?” he mock whispers to you, and you lean into his side and turn to look at the packages on your counter.

“No, I’m just gonna throw up if I look at you two.” Fives replies, hand clasped over his eyes. You roll your eyes at the dramatics and shuffle through the packages. There’s a box from your facialist, an order you placed at a designer a week ago, a new pair of shoes, and-

Oh. It’s an idea. An idea you know Rex will absolutely hate. But an idea nonetheless. 

“So, hear me out.” You hold the calendar in front of your hands, out towards them. Rex scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and now it’s Fives’ turn to sprint towards the door.

“This is it!” He shouts, looking through the calendar and back at you. You can’t help it, you’re grinning now too, and Rex is looking more and more concerned at the frenzied state of the two of you.

“What’s it?” He cautions, and you wrap both arms around his waist.

“How much do you love me?” You ask, batting your eyelashes up towards his face.

* * *

The answer is, evidently, a lot. Rex has successfully gathered not only the 501st, but rallied some of the 212th, the Corries, the Wolfpack, the 327th, and a few more men you’re not entirely sure you remember in the few weeks you’ve been planning this. You’ve sweet talked (gave a lot of credits) the owner of 79’s into using the space for the shoot, and you enlisted the help of a photographer you’ve worked with in the past, a kind eyed Nautilian named Eo. You’re standing before the chatty group of clones next to Eo wearing a short, baggy long sleeved dress with a plunging neckline and chunky belt, holding a glass of  champagne that you tap the stylus you’re holding against. When that doesn’t work to quiet the crowd, Rex emerges from his spot behind you and places two fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching their attention much faster. “Thanks, love,” you murmur over your shoulder, just for him to hear, before smiling in front of the men. You introduce yourself, in case anyone doesn’t know who you are, which earns some chuckles from the group. Sure, maybe not all of them know you as Rex’s girlfriend, but Tup had told stories about the unlucky shinies who had covers of you pasted around their bunks before they knew who you were. You’ve got a face they want to remember, he had said. “I want to thank you all for coming today, this is going to be really exciting!” You exclaim, clapping your hands together and bouncing a bit on your heeled boots. You earn some smiles off of that, and you hope your genuine excitement rubs off on them. You place a hand on Eo’s arm, “This is Eo, they’ve been my photographer on a few shoots before, they’ve made me look amazing, and they’re going to make you all look even better.”

Eo tufts in response, but smiles. “My goal in my studio is for each model to express themselves as their truest self,” they gesture to an assortment of props, some military themed, some seasonal, some more random. “I like to capture the moment, not the person, so please, group up, stand for solos, whatever makes you feel like the inner star you are.” Eo is dramatic, but so are you, and you know this is going to be great. Rex sighs behind you as the group starts to move around, and you turn to him, jumping a bit. “Isn’t this fun!”

“How do you do this? This seems exhausting and we haven’t even done anything.”

You smile and shake your head, “I’m not a model, I’ve only been in like two photoshoots, and that’s because Jil planned it.” 

Rex slides his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in as you watch the chaos unfold, “Meh. You look like one to me.”

Some of them, like Fives and Gregor and Sinker are more than prepared to model. Obviously, you had hoped that some of the clones would feel comfortable shedding some layers, but you aren’t prepared for Fives to immediately shed the top layer of his gear and blacks and begin making some suggestive poses with a pair of grenades. This incites the other two, and suddenly Gregor is at his side, dangling a blaster between his legs while Sinker runs a hand through his blonde hair and actually smolders into the camera. Eo is eating it up, and honestly, so are the rest of them. Soon enough, you’ve cornered the Corries into some Life Day themed images with their red armor, and Cody and his crew use the sunshine pattern on his plastoid as a cue to toss a multicolored beach ball around. Even Wolffe is getting in on the fun, holding up Boost in his arms while the latter blows a kiss into Eo’s camera. Rex is laughing, and he’s popped into a few of the scenes with his boys, his helmet tucked under your arm as he grins towards you. You send him a wink and he rolls his eyes back at you, but he’s smiling. You use your other hand to mime punching numbers into a comm and mouth call me. Kix nearly chokes at the sight, and Rex lets out the biggest laugh he’s had all day. You’re grateful Eo is there, and snaps the moment into permanence. Everyone is really enjoying themselves, and you can’t tell if it’s the electric energy or the fact that you slipped the 79’s owner some extra credits to start bringing out beers.

Either works.

“Let’s get one of all the commanding officers,” Eo says, and gestures to a few of the men around them. Rex and his brothers move to sit on some of the barstools, looking stoic and strong and remarkably handsome. They all have such different energies about them, you don’t know how you could ever imagine them being clones. Brothers, sure, that much is evident by the way they talk to one another. But they’re all so remarkably different.

After a few more shots of each garrison that showed up, you call them together and explain the process. Of the proceeds from calendar sales, half will be sent to the charity you had thought of before, Padme had already helped you contact them, and the remainder was to be split amongst the clone battalions. Not the GAR, but the clones. Their eyes widened at the statement, eager to maybe have some real spending money, and they woop and clap and hug you on the way out. You stop and chat to a few of the troopers you know well from other battalions, and of course your boys in blue, and you don’t notice Eo and Rex chatting off to the side. 

Everyone has left now, and you tug Rex to a seat near a window. “I can’t help but notice you didn’t go for a solo.” You state, and purse your lips. 

He laughs, and leans back. “Nah. Don’t need it.”

“I didn’t say it was for you.” And you wave Eo over. They move to get the lighting right and you step back and admire Rex. He’s just so handsome, strong jawline and bright blonde hair. You have to physically hold yourself back from jumping at him, so opt to sigh dreamily instead. “You’re just so handsome.” You say, right as Eo snaps the image. 

He smiles back in response, a real one, a genuine smile. “Use that one for your birthday month in your calendar,” he reaches his arms out towards you and you oblige, happily. He pulls you in towards his lap and you fall into him, smiling and laughing while he brushes the hair out of your face. “I love you, even though you’re insane, and you make me do shit like this.”

You kiss him in response. You know he means it and you know he knows you do. It’s warm and soft and the exact embodiment of the warm, fuzzy feelings you’ve had today. You’re so wrapped up in the moment, you don’t even notice Eo taking pictures the entire time, or the thumbs up Rex sends them.

* * *

A month later, you get the first physical box of calendars. You had ordered a few for promotions, but word got out faster than you anticipated, and the public was more than happy to donate to a worthy cause. And if they got a calendar featuring the Republic’s strongest and bravest? Consider it a bonus. You and Rex are sitting on your couch flipping through the sample, and CeeDee your serving droid brings over a bottle of wine, seeing as you had just polished off the last one. You’re giggling and pointing at the troopers, but it’s a nice change, seeing these normally stoic men actually enjoying themselves. There’s of course some more risque inclusions thanks to Fives and Gregor which you both laugh at, and you smile fondly at Rex’s page, plastered across the banner for your birth month. “It’s a gift to me,” you say fondly, looking up and stroking his cheek. 

“I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Oh, why? Because I successfully avoided turning this into a full blown porn shoot?”

Rex laughs and pours you another glass, “No, honestly, next year let’s do more,” he sips from his glass, “I think this is going to help, you know, change things. Have people see us as actual people.” He sets his cup down and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s quick but profound, and you can feel the meaning in it. “Thanks, for everything.”

You beam, and lean into his chest. “You’re welcome.” The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you’re interrupted by a ping on your datapad. “Eo sent me the files, so we can send all the holos to every trooper!” Rex is smiling, his chin on your shoulder looking over you. You swipe through the gallery, smiling at all the shots when you get to the end. There’s a few pictures, all candid, of you and Rex. You’re smiling at each other, wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing. He’s in his gear and you’re in a tiny dress, and you’re in 79’s. “For when I’m not here.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. The tenderness of it, the way he must have set it up, doesn’t slip past you, and you turn back to him.

“You’re just too good Captain,” and you kiss his jaw before leaning back on his chest. “Now we have to get you one for yours,” you gesture to his datapad, on the ground beside you.

“Oh, I’ve already got one.” He pushes a few buttons and his datapad switches to an image of just you, you’re laughing at something, eyes gleaming, glass in hand. The picture is a little blurry, it’s missing the perfectionism of Eo, but there’s something light in it, something raw and real. 

“Did you take this?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Eo let me take a few.” He says, and pulls you up on his lap. “Like you said, I’m very good.” He whispers, before closing the gap between you with a kiss.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

This exclusive radio accompanies Victor’s mind quest Not the Slightest Gap (至无隙无间).

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

Victor: Come in.

Goldman: CEO, the Digital Twin technology project we participated in is already moving forward according to the plan.

Victor: Mm, is the meeting in question scheduled for tomorrow?

Goldman: Yes, it’s tentatively scheduled for tomorrow at 3 pm. Do you see any need for adjustment?

Victor: Mm... bring it forward to the morning.

Goldman: Okay.

Victor: By the way, there’s one more thing that I need your help with.

Victor: Help me find a Latin dance studio that offers professional Paso Doble dance courses.

Goldman: Are there any specific requirements?

Victor: One-on-one class. The class time needs to be flexible so that it can be adjusted according to my schedule.

Victor: Aside from being professional, the instructor must be patient.

Goldman: I’ve made a mental note.

Victor: Sign up for two people.

Goldman: For two people… are you going with MC?

Victor: Mm.

Victor: …the setting needs to be better. I guess she will want to take pictures when we check-in.

Goldman: Okay. Do you need help with the outfits for the two of you for your dance classes?

Victor: No need. I’ll take her myself tomorrow.

Victor: That’s all. If you find something suitable, feel free to send me any time.

Goldman: Roger. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave now.

Goldman: [after walking a few steps] CEO, can I ask you a personal question?

Victor: Go on.

Goldman: How do you still manage to have the energy to exercise after getting off work? When I go home every day, all I want to do is lie down.

Victor: Each individual obtains their energy in different ways.

Victor: For me, proper exercise works as a stress reliever.

Goldman: Eh? But don’t you go for an early morning jog every day?

Victor: …dancing is not the same as a morning jog.

Goldman: It’s not the same?

Goldman: Uh, I mean, it sounds like they are both aerobics…

Victor: Do you want me to make a report for you on that?

Goldman: No need, no need. I’ve been blabbing. I’m just curious.

Goldman: And one last thing. Since you two are learning ballroom dancing, then for the company’s annual meeting program…

Victor: How come I don’t know that you’re doing all the administrative work now?

Goldman: A-ah, I’m just asking since I’m here…

Victor: Get off work if there isn’t anything to do. Or don’t you want to go home and lie down tonight?

Victor: There will never be a shortage of things to do in the company.

Goldman: …got it. I’ll go and do what you asked me to do.

Victor: Wait, there’s one more thing.

Victor: About the dance studio, try to choose a place as close as possible to MC’s company.

—

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tta episode 9

“Last time, on Total Takes Action: our remaining players competed in an all-out chick flick extravaganza, complete with the infamous makeover scene and a climatic test of intelligence and cunning- in the end, Scary subverted the trope expectations and won immunity, but not without throwing a world-class tantrum first. Sha-Mod ended up voting himself out to protect his identity, leaving only six players behind. Who will be walking the plank today? And who will be taking one step closer to the grand prize of one million dollars? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

Thunder rumbles overhead Toronto, and this season, it’s not the result of Chris’ scientific tampering. A thick fleet of rain pours down over the film lot, casting everything in a filter of gray.

As per usual, Scruffy is up bright and early (though it’s not very bright today) for their daily pre-challenge training. It’s hardly five in the morning and they’re already dressed, stretching in the boys and such trailer and jogging in place as they brush their teeth in the communal bathrooms.

As they spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, a loud shriek makes them jump.

“Oh, no! The challenge is starting already?” They throw their toothbrush carelessly and run outside. “I didn’t even run my 85 laps around the set yet!”

They throw open the bathroom door and step into the rain to see… a pile of suitcases, clothes, and furnishings on the grass.

A microwave flies out of the girls’ and such trailer and lands on the mountain of things. Peter pokes his head out of the adjacent mobile home and he ducks just in time for a fork to go flying overhead.

“What on earth?” Scruffy scratches their chin.

Their question answers itself, though, as Scary storms out, tugging at their blonde hair with a wild expression on their face. “CHRIS!”

The intercom crackles to life, the feedback making everyone cover their ears for protection as it squeals. “Yeeeees?”

“I KNOW YOU’RE BEHIND THIS!”

Scruffy jogs over to the doorway and hovers in front of Scary. “What’s up?”

“That weasel took my notes- all of the notes I’ve been taking since we got here!” she groans. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were pulling your weight around here!”

“Hey, I’m staying in the game. Isn’t that enough?”

“No!”

“Well, this has been heartwarming,” Chris’ voice blares. “But you’re not so special, Scary- if everyone would please check their belongings...”

Scruffy thinks for a moment, and then pats their pockets. “My whistle!”

Peter digs around his shirt. “My girlfriend!”

A piercing shriek, louder than both Scary and the intercom feedback, makes everyone wince. Fren dashes out of the trailer, dumping an empty drawer on the ground. “My clothes! That sadist took my clothes!” he drops to his knees and cries out to the heavens as the rain pours down. “THAT MONSTER!”

Max stands in the doorway of the trailer, rolling his eyes.

---

MAX: “So, Chris took some stuff. Big deal. This is probably some dumb pirate treasure hunt episode, and at the end of the challenge he’ll reveal he actually burned all of our things and the grand prize is a bag of chips,” he sighs. “Still, it’d be nice if he chose something other than my shoes to take.”

---

The rain continues pouring down on camp, the water pooling on the top of the craft services tent and weighing down on it. O watches the rain indent the fabric and grits his teeth nervously.

No one else seems to notice, though, as they’re all busy dealing with the recoil from their missing necessities. Scary is hurriedly leafing through a physics book, surrounded by other open editions, Fren has had to substitute his usual flair for plain black clothes lended by the interns, and Max is wearing a pair of O’s sneakers.

Only Scruffy still seems chipper, hurriedly weaving something out of grass.

---

SCRUFFY: “In preparation for Total Takes Island, I took a weaving class, a spinning class, a sewing class, and swim aerobics. That last one was free,”

---

They finish their creation, and hold up a tiny horn as a whistle substitute. “Alright, I’m up! If I'm fast, I'll get 30 in before the challenge!” they shout, standing and jogging outside for their laps.

Fren nervously twirls a strand of hair around his finger at one end of the long table. He looks down at his outfit, then back up around the room, then to the camera. “Please tell me the cameras are still capturing my colors?”

The camera man shakes his head. Fren sighs.

Peter walks over and sets his breakfast tray on the table next to Fren. “Everything okay?”

He puts on a smile and looks up. “Great!”

Peter doesn’t look quite convinced, but doesn’t push, anyway. “Hey, wait, didn’t you once design a whole fashion line out of palm leaves and dental floss?”

“This is different!"

Max raises an eyebrow from across the table. The intercom crackles to life and Chris’ voice blares over the sound of the rain.

“Good morning, victims! Get your butts outside the craft services tent, ASAP!”

Scruffy groans from afar.

---

The small group of campers huddles outside the trailers, looking between each other as they’re drenched in rain. Chris, decked out in a raincoat and holding an umbrella, smiles warmly.

“Great weather we’re having, huh?”

“Cut to the chase,” Scary’s eyes narrow.

He chuckles. “Alright, alright. Today’s challenge is simple- or is it? This episode is all about mystery, suspense, and the unknown,”

Max pipes up from the back, eyes wide. “You don’t mean?”

“Oh, I do. Today’s theme is detective noir!”

Scary rolls their eyes and no one else really reacts to the news, though everyone turns around after a high-pitched squeal comes from the back of the group. Max stares back, then clears his throat and straightens his tie.

“Alright then,” Chris chuckles. “I’m sure a few of you have noticed you’re missing a few meaningless souvenirs-”

“MEANINGLESS?!” Fren shrieks. This time, it’s him everyone stares at. He chuckles nervously. “I’m just saying!”

“I hate to admit that he’s right, but…” Scary sighs. “I need my notes back.”

“…And I’m sure you’re all wondering how you’re going to get them back,” Chris smiles. “All these questions and more will be answered… by YOU! Here's the deal: one of you was paid six hundred dollars by moi to swipe from your fellow contestants- who? That’s for everyone else to decide! You'll have the day to hunt for clues, collect evidence, and then when your time is up, you'll all vote on the suspect.”

“Wow!” Peter says. “Kind of like Am-”

“COPYRIGHT!” Chris shouts. “And it’s nothing like that! You have until the end of the day to catch the culprit and recover the missing goods. There’ll be some fun surprises along the way, too.”

“Define fun,” O asks.

Chris chuckles. “Oh, you’ll know. Ciao!”

The host walks off, leaving the last six competitors behind.

---

SCARY: “One of these rats stole the weeks worth of notes I’ve been building my case with. If I can’t get them back, goodbye lawsuit, goodbye Chris McLean lifetime prison sentence!”

---

PETER: “I’m not too worried about the missing goods,” he pulls another picture out of his back pocket. “I always carry a spare! But I am worried about everyone turning on each other. I don't want to pick sides...”

---

SCRUFFY: “Yes! Okay- so not only is this a totally chill, laid-back, relaxed, super fun easy fun challenge, it’s also got something to do with physical harm- based on Chris’ tone! I can ace this!” their eye twitches.

---

Fren wails in the confessional.

---

MAX: “What? Why should I care about this challenge?” he pauses and then grins. “Okay, fine- I love mysteries! Capers, cold cases, riddles, puzzles- I even have a detective alter-ego named Raleigh Dubois-” he pauses and turns red. “I’ve said too much.”

---

O: “I’m just hoping nobody figures out that nothing was stolen from me. I don’t know why, but Chris put a massive target on my back- I don’t even have a fighting chance, and I'm a terrible liar...”

---

The remaining players sit around the table in the craft services tent, looking between each other in silence. The air is thick with electricity- either from the rising tensions, or from the lightning outside.

Finally, Peter breaks. “I can’t stand this! Why can’t we just work together?!”

“That’s not how this works,” Scary snaps. “Now, we just have to wait until the culprit snaps under the pressure, I can get my notes back, and they’ll be sent home- with a broken spine!”

“That’s it!” Max stands, slamming his fists on the table. “If you all want to take the easy way out, that’s fine- but I respect the sanctity of an open case, and I’m going to solve this on my own!”

He storms out. Scary rolls her eyes.

---

MAX: “I came back for Michela. And to get out of that terrible peanut gallery, but mostly for Chel. Now, she’s gone, and until today, I had nothing left to keep going for- but now I have a purpose! I have a motive! I have a case!” he pauses, then pulls a fedora out from under the counter, fixing it on his head. “Raleigh Dubois is on it!”

---

Max sits in a dark room, adjusting a lamp light. He angles it upwards and shines it in someone’s face. They wince.

“Is that really necessary?” Peter asks.

“Very,” Max says. “I find the blinding light to be… calming. Makes a liar nervous and an innocent man blind.”

“How is that fair?”

“It works for me,” he shrugs, then pulls out a notepad. “Run me through your day. Take your time.”

---

“Well…” Scruffy says. “I got up at 5:00 AM sharp, got dressed, brushed my teeth, then I heard this terrible banshee scream…”

---

Scary rolls her eyes. “I went to add the weather for my daily log and my notes were missing. My notes. My notes! For idiots like you, that’d be like waking up and missing a leg!”

---

“Where to start?” Fren thinks. “Well, as per usual, I went to Chef to see if I received any fan mail…”

Max looks up from his notepad, eyebrow raised. “Did you?”

“Ahaha!” he grins. “Of course! Tons!”

---

O quivers. “I-I-I um.. I- I- where’s my lawyer?!”

Max stares back. “I just asked you to state your name,”

---

“It was obviously targeted. So whoever did it must’ve known these notes are important to you,” Max says, clicking his ballpoint pen. “I would ask if you have any enemies, but that’d be a rhetorical question.”

Scary bares her teeth. “How am I supposed to know that you’re not the sellout?”

“I might be. What're you gonna do?”

---

Fren smiles confidently. “After an hour lost on the streets of New Delhi, we found our way to the river-”

“This has nothing to do with the question,”

“It does so! You asked what I was missing, and I’m giving you a detailed account of each item,” he crosses his arms. “You should be thanking me. Anyway, let’s talk about my cashmere scarf. It was winter in the Swiss Alps…”

Max massages his temples and groans.

---

“My whistle,” Scruffy thinks. “An odd choice, considering I have my own notes in the trailer… maybe the thief only cares about Fren and Scary!”

“It’s not necessarily the object, it’s the obstacle it creates,” Max mutters, taking down notes. “Your whistle helps you with your… “training”, so taking it caused you to miss your two hours this morning.”

“Ah! Right! I knew that!” they nod. "I totally knew that!"

Max rolls his eyes.

---

“What am I missing?!” O chuckles nervously, scratching his arm rapidly. “My, um… my catcher’s mitt! It was my grandpa’s, it’s a family heirloom! I take it everywhere, it’s lucky!”

“Really,” Max raises an eyebrow.

O laughs like an insane person.

---

MAX: “So far, not much. All I’m sure of is that whoever did the swiping obviously knows their way around the cast. They have a lot of observational skills, and they’re brave enough to seriously hurt someone’s feelings- or pride. That cuts out Peter,” he thinks aloud. “Scary wouldn’t take the 600 at the price she’s holding over Chris’ head, plus everyone would suspect her. O… I’m not sure.”

---

Scary sits on the steps to the trailer, munching popcorn and watching Fren and Scruffy argue over who’s missing memento is more important.

“Max said it himself! It’s not the object, it’s the symbolism!” Scruffy shouts.

Max’s voice rings out from inside the trailer. “Not what I said!”

Fren scoffs, offended. “As if my clothes aren’t symbolic! I’m not some cheap whore, I have goals, you know!”

“Outside of clothes?” Scary chuckles. “Please.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised. I mean- I did charity work in the Himalayas!” Fren shrieks. “I am a person of substance and interest!”

Max pokes his head out of the trailer, holding a few plastic bags. “Can you keep it down out here? I’m trying to focus,”

“On what? Role-playing?" Scary rolls her eyes. “Please. We all know you’re the thief, anyway.”

“In your dreams,”

“You are most certainly not a part of my dreams,” she scoffs. “Unless you’re dead or in prison.”

Max rolls his eyes and goes back inside the cabin, Scruffy following as he and Fren disperse. Scary rolls her eyes.

---

SCARY: “What do I think? It was O. Obviously. He’s been avoiding us all day- not exactly a great secret-keeper. But I want to drag this out as long as possible, to teach a certain green-haired traitor a lesson,”

---

"So, we can all agree that it's O, right?" Scary asks, flicking a dust bunny off their lab coat.

Peter and Fren look between each other as they huddle around the table in the craft services tent.

"Why?" Peter finally asks.

"Duh. He's an observant therapy-freak so he knows all our weaknesses, he's been missing all day, and nothing of his was taken," Scary sighs. "While Max has been busy getting that stick out of his ass, I went through O's things, and nothing was out of place! I catalogue everyone's belongings at the beginning of every week, so I would know."

"You what?"

"Irrelevant. He's so obviously the culprit,"

---

SCARY: "I know nothing about detective work, or human drama, but... I feel like I'm aceing this,"

---

Scruffy rocks back and forth on the floor in the trailer, mumbling to themselves as Max digs through suitcases and looks under beds. After the trainee starts biting themselves, Max sighs and turns. “Can I help you?”

“No, no, I’m fine! I’m fine! Totally staying in the competition, I totally know what’s going on all the time! I am super chill!”

“Jesus Christ,” Max mutters under his breath.

---

MAX: “So this is pure, unbridled insanity. I can cross Scruffy off the list, unless they're secretly an A-list actor. No... but that is an interesting thought, isn't it? Someone who acts overwhelming as a cover...”

---

He peers out of the doorway and watches as Fren paces around the grass, throwing his hands up and kicking his legs out and groaning.

---

"It's gotta be five o'clock by now," Scary murmurs, pacing around the craft services tent. "Where is he? Where could he hide?"

No one responds. Peter is busy twirling his thumbs, Fren is picking at the scratchy, unflattering sweater he was given, and Scruffy- recently relocated from the trailer- is scribbling nonsense in the dirt.

"Pete, go check the bathrooms," Scary instructs, pointing outside into the dark, pouring rain.

He winces, but doesn't push back, standing and disappearing into the dark.

Scary puts her hands on her hips and huffs, looking around. "Where's the pipsqueak?"

---

The emerald green equipment tent provides adequate cover from the rain- although the wind blows in a few drops as Max opens one of the flaps and sneaks inside.

He surveys the area for interns, and once the coast is clear, he sets up a PC and enters a few passwords before cracking into the system with “chrisisawesome1”. He pulls up a search engine and takes a deep breath.

---

Peter, holding O's hand, coaxes him back into the craft services tent with the promise that no harm will come to him.

"It'll be fine, there are witnesses!"

"That's not helpful!" O whisper-shouts back.

Sure enough, as soon as he's inside, Scary pounces on him and drags him to the table, handcuffing him to the leg while he shrieks and struggles.

"Can it, limp noodle!" he snaps. "We know you did it- and as soon as the shrimp is back, we're voting you out. Bye-bye!"

"Hey, hey, we haven't reached a consensus yet," Peter says, trying to mediate.

"Can it!"

Scruffy holds up a finger. "No- he's right- we need evidence! We need-"

"You're next, jellybean," Scary narrows her eyes. "In fact, you're my next choice- trying to make everyone's lives harder so you get an easy ride to the finale, huh?"

"I don't even want to go to the finale, I just want to know how this game works!"

Scary drops O and storms over to the corner Scruffy is in. "Here's how this works: you don't abandon your lab partner for a stupid rigged game show just because it hurts your frail little ego! Not everything is about Total Drama!"

"You're wrong!" Scruffy sobs, holding their head in their hands. "Total Drama is life!"

"Oh my God- How am I not the craziest person on this island!"

Fren scratches his arm. "You'll all have your time,"

"What was that?"

"Nothing,"

The tent flap suddenly flies open and Chris walks in, carried in a throne with a roof by four struggling interns. They set his chair down at the end of the table and scamper away.

"Good evening, campers. Have we reached a verdict?”

Everyone falls silent. Scruffy hangs their head. O says a prayer. Finally, Scary speaks: "I think we have,"

The players look between each other.

“Only one of us had nothing stolen- only one of us could be stupidly pressured into taking $600 over a million- only one of us was gone almost all day,” Scary claps her hands for emphasis. “O is the thief!”

O protests. “No! I don’t know why nothing was stolen from me! I’m innocent!”

“Lies!”

The campers break out into argument- as they do, the tent flap opens again and Max walks in, grinning. Scary pauses from yelling at Scruffy to scoff. “What’re you so smug about?”

“You’re wrong,”

“Excuse me, shortstack?”

“You’re wrong. And a shoddy detective,” he stands, pacing the room. “I’ll admit, even I was fooled for a while- O has the motive, the know-how, and a shoddy alibi- he’s a smart guy. But not as smart as a certain someone in this room.”

“No need to pat your own back,” Scary rolls her eyes.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” Max says, pulling a stack of papers from his blazer and slamming them down on the table. The players, and Chris, crowd around them.

The top of the stack is a picture of a familiar face, standing on a stage- the headline reading “Teen Theatre Prodigy Awarded in London”.

“From the start, I was suspicious. We all knew he was lying in one way or another, but... what if he wasn't?" Max says, pacing. "What if Fren really has done all those things... as characters?"

The table goes silent, looking between each other. The silence holds until it’s pierced by a delightful, almost cheerful laugh. Fren chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Oh, God, it took you all so long!”

“What?” Scary demands, staring at him. “What are you talking about?!”

He sighs and leans forward, balancing his head in his palms. “It was almost too easy! A movie-based season? For an auteur? An artiste? A free exercise in my skills, with a monetary prize?” he grins. “The “Frendom”? My fans from back home. I have a lot, after all. All my elaborate stories, my impeccable personality? ‘Fren’ was a fascinating character to play, almost corny in how over-exaggerated he is. Alas, that kind of swagger is brushed off in this show.”

Max smiles triumphantly as Fren pulls off his baggy sweater, revealing a black shirt underneath with everyone's items strapped to his torso.

“At some point, I just began seeing how far I could push this before someone started suspecting something,” he chuckles, tossing everyone their things. “I salute you, Maxwell.”

“It’s just Max, actually,”

“Whatever,” Fren says. “Congratulations on out-smarting Miss Poser.” he jabs his thumb in Scary’s direction. She growls. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’ll get your due. Most of you will.”

“Well,” Chris grins. “I think it’s safe to say that Max has won immunity today- the rest of you, I’ll see later!”

Chris walks off and Scary growls, storming after him. Fren grins.

---

FREN: "Was it manipulative? Yes. Was it deceptive, scheming, conniving? Absolutely. But I served, and if anything- I wasn't boring. After my character- the beta Fren from Island- failed right off the bat, I realized I was going to have to add some extra spice to my performance. And oh, did it flourish from there! I could've made such an excellent antagonist, if I hadn't gone for the "insecurities revealed" plot... alas, there's always the next season,"

---

Fren leans against the boy's trailer, Peter next to him. The rain has finally cleared up and the late afternoon sun is beaming down on the set. “So it was all a character?” the shorter brunet asks.

“More or less- I like to give all my characters a little sprinkle of myself. Fren is me, I am Fren, but we’re different. Understand?”

Peter rubs his head. “I think. Are we still friends?”

“Mmm… no. But we can be,” Fren holds out his hand for a shake. “My legal name is Alistair.”

“Peter!” he eagerly accepts the gesture.

A loud scream emanates from the communal bathrooms and Scary runs out in a towel, clutching their head- their perfect blonde hair changed to a deep, midnight black.

Peter and Fren watch him run to the trailers to attack Max with a large stick.

“Was that you?” Peter asks.

Fren shrugs. “Hey, the hair dye in the confessionals is free. Now she can be a proper emo, and maybe get some acting lessons- her character last season was so dull!”

---

“Well, players… much to talk about today,” Chris chuckles. “Fren pulled a Scary on us and revealed Fren-ception… mostly thanks to Max’s expert detective skills. Or should I say Raleigh’s?” Max turns red and glares. “Nonetheless, it won him immunity, and put the rest of the cast on the chopping block.”

“Our first Gilded Chris goes to… Scruffy,”

“Peter,”

“Scary,”

“O- you unintentionally mislead everyone by acting weird… by trying not to act weird. And you cost Scary the immunity- great work, dude! And Fren- though your acting skills and secret villainy are admired, you also mislead… everyone!” Chris grins. “And the last Gilded Chris… goes to…”

“…O. Sorry, Fren. Maybe next time!”

Fren grins and stands, waving goodbye to the cast as he walks the red carpet. “Don’t worry about me, friends! I’ll be on a real red carpet soon!”

The cast watches him disappear into the Lame-o-Sine and drive off.

“Riveting! Is anyone who they say they are? Will Scary stay emo? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Action!”

[qrfit]

Day 4 of 5 day workout week:

Felt pretty good today! Started with a beautiful morning, with plenty of sunshine and a nice breeze. Nico and I got out early and put in just under a mile on our walk. He kept a nice steady pace today! And, do I see leaves on our path?! The whispers of Fall emerge…🍁🍂

Got in some step aerobics in my fitness shop! A good and sweaty 50 minutes plus another 10 minutes of abs/core was plenty of hard work for me today. Now, I get ready for Thursday Night Football! Levi’s Home Opener! Hoping for a W and everyone getting out healthy! 🙏🏽

[snapthistiger]

exercise 05292024

worked lifeguard job 5.5 hours (445a to 1015a)

break time

bike ride to the gym

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

3 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

bike ride home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses

break time = changed from lifeguard clothes to nice clothes in my truck. attended a funeral for a friend's mom. went to visit my Mom but she was sleeping. returned a book to the library for my Mom and ate a hot dog for lunch.

had heavy rain during break time but cleared up after then clouded up again while i was exercising

top left = clouds as i was leaving the gym and riding home this afternoon

bottom = swim team in the pool. the guy in the foreground is a veterinarian who trains for triathlons. when the swim team is in the water there is quite a bit of noise (turn sound on to hear them) from all the swimming.

work was good. i watched swimmers the entire time. at one point i had 40 swimmers in the water between swim team and water aerobics class and then some casual swimmers

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[carlos-in-glasses]

Cig, my Cig. Question for you. What is the wildest fitness craze you have ever taken part in? (Thinking goat yoga or step aerobics)

I'm so sorry Lemon but I've never taken part in a wild fitness craze. One time I tried going for a run in public, but it wasn't for me. I'm more into gyms, at-home pilates and going for long nature walks. Subsequently I have slammin' abs but absolutely no ass.

[mel-is-sanonymous1994]

Kisses Taste Like Candy

Part 2

again I don't live in Ireland or even pretend to.

I have also posted this on AO3 I posted this part there first.

Orla McCool x Michelle Mallon

“It isn’t forever it’s just until we all go back to school.” I said.

“You aren’t going back Michelle, you’ll still see Orla.” He pointed out.

“No I won’t. She and I don’t run in the same circles when the other girls aren’t here, she’s got dance class and the shelter, then she also teaches step aerobics at the gym.” I said countering him.

“Derry isn’t that massive, you are bound to run into each other sometime, and besides Orla didn’t seem too bothered by it when it happened, I think you’ve just worked yourself up about the whole thing.��� James said.

“I’m not gonna explain it to you again. There are rules between friends and especially with Orla.” I said with my arms crossed. We heard the girls laughing through the open window.

“She’s not a child Michelle, she’s actually really smart I know her general attitude and taking every joke seriously can be misleading but she understands feelings and what stuff like that means. Talk to her or I’ll tell them all you lied.” He threatened before walking out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I sighed and laid down in my bed, falling asleep instantly. When I woke up it had only been 30 minutes, stupid dreams. I needed to get out of the house. I put some pants on and a sweatshirt before leaving the house. I was mostly wandering but didn’t realize I was walking to Erin’s house until I was already knocking on the door.

“Michelle? The girls aren’t here? Shouldn’t you be with them actually?” Gerry asked answering the door.

“I wasn’t feeling too well so I stayed behind, is Mary home?” I asked. He looked confused at first.

“Come on in.” He said inviting me in the house.

“Mary’s in the kitchen.” He said. I nodded and made my way into their kitchen.

“Michelle? I thought you’d be with the others.” She smiled before looking at me fully. Once she saw me it’s as if she could sense everything that I’ve been thinking and going through in the past week.

“Have a seat love, I’ll put the kettle on and you can tell me why you look like you’ve been crying for a week straight.” She said with a polite smile. I noticed Gerry had sat down in the living room but still close enough to provide help if needed. Once she set the kettle on the stove she sat down next to me at the kitchen table and put her hand on mine. The floodgates opened once again. After several minutes I finally calmed down and the kettle screamed.

“I’ll get it you two talk.” Gerry said standing up.

“What’s happened?” She asked me rubbing my back lightly as I calmed down.

“So you know how Claire is a wee lesbian?” I asked.

“Yes.” She replied.

“Well when I went to university I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” I said remembering the first time I had been with a girl it had actually been my first time all together.

“Keep going.” She said when she noticed Gerry had started to whistle in case he heard something private that someone’s father shouldn’t hear.

“I liked it a little more than I thought I would, I still like the fellas but I would say the girls are pretty equal.” I said as I took deep breaths.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, if I’ve learned anything it’s that it doesn’t matter, as long as you are happy.” She said giving me a proud smile. I took a deep breath.

“The other night Jenny Joyce had a party and she suggested we play spin the bottle like she could smell the lesbian on me and round after round I was safe until it was my turn, I had hoped it’d land on one of the random dudes that Jenny had invited but it didn’t.” I said speaking faster.

“It landed on Orla?” She asked.

“I tried to skip her Mary I really did but you see this ballbag was sitting next to me and the rules were that the person next to you had to kiss the person instead and he was honestly really creepy and I didn’t want him anywhere near Orla.” I said explaining myself once again.

“Michelle breathe.” She said. I took another deep breath.

“Erin explained everything that happened Michelle.” Mary said.

“She doesn’t know everything Mary, she doesn’t know what I thought in my head. She doesn’t know what I did.” I said with tears still in my eyes.

“I basically assaulted her!” I yelled.

“Ach you did not!” She shook her head.

“I did, I had my tongue in her mouth Mary, she wasn’t even paying attention when the rules of the game were being said, I’m sure she didn’t even know what we were gonna do. I don’t think she was expecting me to shove my tongue down her throat either. She is traumatized I’m sure.” I said as the panic began to bubble once again.

“Why don’t you drink your tea and breathe.” She said. I took a sip of the hot liquid and tried to calm myself. After about 10 minutes Mary excused herself and I sat at the table by myself for a minute. Gerry approached me.

“I know I’m just Erin’s da but can I put my thoughts out there?” He asked. I nodded.

“Orla’s is an amazing lady. All you wains are incredible but her heart is massive, I think you need to talk to her and explain everything I know that sounds hard but I’d hate to see you avoid your friends because you are afraid you’ve hurt them in some way.” He said with a smile. He patted my shoulder and walked away. I was so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t hear Erin and Orla walk in.

“Michelle? I thought you were sick!” Orla gasped.

“Obviously she’s not Orla.” Erin rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I should go.” I said.

“Hold up a minute, you two need to talk and neither of yous are allowed to leave this kitchen until you’ve talked.” Mary said shooing Erin out of the kitchen. Gerry followed his daughter. Orla looked confused.

“Do you need me to stay?” Mary asked. I shook my head.

“What are you on about Aunt Mary?” Orla asked as she sat down and pulled candy out of her pocket.

“Michelle here came over to speak to you Orla dear.” She replied. Orla shrugged but sat back in the kitchen chair as she sucked on a Lolly. Once Mary had left the room I took a deep breath.

“So what did you eat?” Orla asked.

“What?” I asked confused.

“To get sick? The last time I got sick I had Finnoulas, it was hard to go back.” She sighed.

“I wasn’t sick.” I said ashamed.

“Why would you lie?” She asked genuinely.

“I was avoiding you, all of you.” I said not bothering to sugar coat it, that wouldn’t be fair to Orla.

“What did we do? Was it Erin? I know she can be a bit much sometimes but she means well.” She said leaning forward placing the sucker on the table. I stood up and grabbed a small plate from the cabinet to set the candy on so Mary’s table doesn’t get ruined. I picked up the cherry flavored confection and placed it on the plate before sitting back down.

“No it wasn’t Erin.” I said. I should just spit it out but I found it hard to find the words.

“Was it me? Listen, I know sometimes I take things a bit too literal and get confused about little things but I promise I’m trying to get better, Ma’s got me in these classes and working with the animals helps a bit.” She said. The sound of tears in her throat broke my heart. I moved to sit next to her and placed my hand over her hand much like Mary had earlier.

“It wasn’t any of you Orla, it was me. I did something bad.” I said.

“What did you do? Is it worse than stealing the board from the chippy? Or when you brought a suitcase full of vodka on the bus to Belfast?” She gasped. I shook my head at the memories.

“I kissed you.” I said pulling my hand back away.

“Och Michelle that’s not a crime.” She smiled.

“What?” I asked in disbelief.

“It isn’t illegal to play tongue tag with your friend, at least as far as I know.” She said grabbing the sucker once more and placing it in her mouth.

“It’s tonsil tag Orla.” I said trying not to laugh at her.

“But I haven’t got my tonsils.” She said. I shook my head.

“I know I’m just saying I went further than the game is intended to go and I’m sorry.” I said.

“No need to be sorry Michelle.” She said shrugging.

“Im sorry what?” I asked confused.

“I didn’t mind, at first it was different, I’ve never felt the texture of someone else’s tongue, only my own when I curl my tongue at the kittens at the shelter, but once I got used to that and the taste of tequila on your tongue it wasn’t horrible” she said. I was at a loss for words.

“I also had to get used to the smell of your hair, there was so many textures, smells, and tastes all at once my brain got a bit fuzzy but once I focused on the pressure of your hand on my face it was fine.” She smiled while pulling the sucker out of her mouth.

“So you aren’t traumatized by the fact that I kissed you?” I asked.

“No. Are you?” She asked.

“No, actually I liked it, a lot. I didn’t know cotton candy lip gloss could be so addicting.” I blushed.

“I am not allowed to eat it anymore Aunt Mary had a whole fit about it when she found out.” She said. After another silent minute she spoke again.

“That was my first time kissing someone, and it was more fun than I expected. I have been thinking about it a lot. Erin writes about kissing in her diary and I have been trying to compare but I can’t quite remember all of the details it happened so fast.” She scrunched her nose.

“I panicked, the alcohol and everything went straight to my head and I thought you hadn’t kissed back because you were uncomfortable.” I explained.

“So you ran and hid because you thought you hurt me?” She asked.

“Yes and no, at first I did run because I thought I hurt ye but I stayed away because of how kissing you made me feel.” I said.

“And how does it make you feel?” She asked still sucking on the sucker.

“It happened so fast I can’t be sure.” I lied. I knew exactly how I feel, I always had a soft spot for Orla but it changed into something else entirely when I came back to Derry, I looked at her differently than before and even at the party I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. All of the sudden my thoughts were interrupted by lips crashing into mine. My eyes were still open, shock painted in them until I felt Orla’s hand caress my cheek and my eyes closed in contentment. She brought her hand down to my neck where she placed her thumb just below my chin and her fingers had intertwined in the hair at the nape of my neck. I opened my mouth a little as she nudged my chin up with her thumb and she took this as permission to let her tongue in. She mimicked what I did at Jenny Joyce’s party only this time there was no alcohol on either of our tongues only the taste of the cherry sucker which is now my new favorite flavor. Mary cleared her throat from the living room and I pulled away reluctantly. Orla kept her hand in place and put her forehead on mine breathing in and out against my face as she tried to catch her breath.

“You alright Orla?” I asked.

“Just trying to get my brain to float back into my head, are you alright Michelle?” She asked as she pulled away to look at me clearly, her brown eyes studying every bit of my face.

“Never been better.” I said.

“Did that clear up your feelings at all?” She asked. I nodded as she stuck the sucker back into her mouth. I teasingly grabbed the stick and pulled it out of her mouth before shoving it in mine with a smirk.

“So it did, how about you?” I asked.

“Kissing you is the best thing I’ve ever done.” She said. I blushed.

“I’d have to agree. Would you like to do it again sometime?” I asked flirtatiously.

“I’d like to do it all the time.” She said seriously.

“Well not in my kitchen girls, have some dignity.” Erin yelled.

“Gerry will you give Michelle a ride home?” Mary asked.

“Of course, let’s go.” He said grabbing his coat.

“Can i ride along?” Orla asked.

“I don’t see why not.” He said. Orla stood up and set the cherry sucker back onto the table and grabbed my hand as we left Erin’s house feeling lighter.