Okay, listen. Simon(e)’s birthday was over a month ago, but I think being late is very on brand for them, so you all are welcome for the immersive experience. Please enjoy the following S blurb.

Simon version:

“How have I never been here before?” you call out, running a hand across the faded labels of the VHS tapes that line the room’s many shelves.

“We’ve been busy,” Simon shouts from the other room, his response accompanied by several crashing noises. “Dismantling a cult and all.”

You scoff out a laugh and continue your examination of the apartment before you.

Vintage posters from horror movies are plastered across the walls, some with autographs scrawled on the bottoms. Various items are dotted around the room’s surfaces, including but not limited to: ticket stubs, an empty fishtank, and an open car manual for a make that you’re fairly sure Simon has never owned.

It’s cluttered but not messy, and the faint smell of recently cooked popcorn still hangs in the air. Through the open window, you can hear distant car horns and the sounds of people talking on the street below.

You honestly don’t think you could’ve imagined a place that seems more like him if you’d tried.

“Here,” the man in question says, striding across the room to shove a sandwich in your direction.

It’s clearly peanut butter, but there’s also a sharp, slightly sweet smell of something else emanating out from between the slices of bread. You almost think it might be chiles.

“Is there hot sauce in this?”

“Sriracha,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You take a suspicious look down at the gastronomic monstrosity before you, contemplating the odds of getting through it with your tastebuds intact.

After a moment, you shake your head. “That’s okay, you have it.”

“I thought you were hungry,” he shoots back, an amused expression on his face as he watches you expectantly.

Glancing back down at the questionable decision in your hand, you let out something between a groan and a sigh of defeat as you take the world’s smallest bite.

“Possibly not awful,” you concede after a few hesitant chews.

“Great,” he replies, shoving the other half of the sandwich into his mouth and leaning over to lace up a pair of heavy boots. “Because we gotta go.”

You find yourself looking around the room as if an explanation is going to materialize out of thin air. “Go where?”

He doesn’t reply, however, mind seemingly preoccupied as his eyes dart around the room in search of some misplaced possession.

“Simon,” you say, prompting him to turn back to you with a questioning look. “Go where?”

Rather than responding, he takes a few meandering steps in your direction. A sharp grin lights up his face as he reaches you and slides a hand onto the back of your neck, leaning his face in toward yours.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Even as he asks the question, something about the look in his eyes suggests that he already knows the answer.

For better or for worse, you really do.

Armor Upgrades, pt 2 (ExK)

A follow-up to Armor Upgrades! Also on AO3

Kaidan eyed the message from Evvy with a level of suspicion well-earned over years of knowing the Commander. Circumstances may have pulled them apart, and coming back together hadn't been seamless, but the longer they worked at it, the longer they learned to fit again, the more evident some basic truths became:

 Everett Shepard was and always would be a little shit. 

 And thus the message Hey, can you come help me up in my quarters? was assessed for its assumed innocence and, in light of their earlier interaction in the shuttle bay, deemed very much not innocent. 

 As if Everett could read his mind several decks down, the Commander followed up with a simple

 ;)

 Kaidan bit back a laugh, shaking his head, and made his way to the elevator. 

 He'd gotten the update that Evvy and his ground team had made it back from their mission, that it had been a success, and he wondered if Everett had even written his report yet or was choosing mischief before work this evening. 

 Then again he does have those report templates…

 Kaidan hesitated outside the Captain's Quarters, mentally preparing for whatever bit of teasing Everett was likely going to throw his way, and finally palmed the door open. 

 "So how much should I bet that this has something to do with how I embarrassed my…myself…"

 Oh.

 Kaidan had  expected some good-natured ribbing for ogling Evvy in full armor. He was not expecting Everett to be here, in his own quarters, far from the Armory, fully armored still and leaning against the fish tank, hips cocked just so and eyebrow raised. 

 A small smirk that was pure mischief, pure Evvy, curled his lips even as he widened his eyes innocently. 

 "No idea what you mean, nerdlet," Everett lied, eyes glinting. "But I got bit a distracted after my mission and seem to have…forgotten to kit down. Help me out?"

 Good god.

 Kaidan swallowed hard, staring at him, trailing along all the delicious lines the armor set had absolutely no business emphasizing on his partner's body. Evvy raised both eyebrows at him, barely fighting back a grin, and Kaidan finally moved to close the distance between them. 

 Everett smelled like a gunfight, spent thermal clips and a hint of eezo, and for all he hadn't been there to see him in action his imagination readily supplied the visuals: how quickly Everett could move, how quietly, the clear orders given over comms wrapped in a voice like velvet. Gray eyes flashing blue and body limned in that ethereal light, all the more beautiful for the confidence hard-earned when it came to biotics -- knowing he had helped Evvy on that journey, too. 

 Everett tilted his head and Kaidan took the invitation, pressing searing kisses along the column of his throat where he could, nips to the sensitive spots below his jaw, nuzzling his cheek to his stubble. His hands ghosted along his sides, following the contours of the armor to rest where it emphasized his hips and staying there, reveling, drawing Everett into a heated kiss. 

 "You need a minute to find the seals?" Everett murmured, voice pitched low in his teasing, and Kaidan gave a harder nip in response. Everett laughed, goosebumps erupting over the limited areas of skin Kaidan had access to while he stood fully armored. 

 "Maybe more than a minute," Kaidan retorted, nuzzling his nose to Evvy's. Everett laughed against him, seizing Kaidan's lower lip and giving a playful tug. 

 "These really do make my hips look great, huh? I don't know how I didn't notice before," he admitted as Kaidan kissed him again. 

 "Hips, legs, ass," Kaidan echoed from earlier, earning another breathless laugh. He gave the weave covering Evvy's hips a squeeze before his fingers finally moved to undo the seals and clasps of his chest and arm pieces, letting them clatter to their feet one by one. He tugged at the material of his undersuit, tugging at zippers with his teeth and nuzzling to the skin revealed below. He heard Everett's head gently tap against the fishtank behind them as he let it fall back on his neck, exposing a longer expanse of tantalizing flesh for Kaidan to tease. 

 Kaidan took his time, mouth mapping out a layout of muscle down and down, lines still familiar even after all this time. Sensitive spots were still responsive just the way he remembered, pressure of teeth and tease of tongue eliciting results that felt like a homecoming with each pass, each shiver, each breathless gasp. He glanced up to see Evvy watching him, felt Everett's fingers slip into his hair, run gently along his scalp, pupils blown with a look of desire, of want, so tied to his memories of their Before that he ached with it. 

 The leg pieces were next, greaves falling away and Everett was stepping out of the boots. Kaidan made his way back up, hands running along his chest to press the material of his undersuit away as he kissed him again. He kept that kiss going, using memory of touch to strip the suit away, to slip down his sides to his ass and lift, Everett's legs going around his waist and arms around his neck and he carried him to the desk he'd since commandeered as his own. 

 Evvy kept himself wrapped around him as he broke the kiss, nose brushing against his, barely-there kisses ghosting along Kaidan's jaw, following the line to the spot just below his ear that Evvy knew made him shiver. 

 They hadn't been intimate like this since before Alchera. He hadn't seen Evvy like this since before he'd been ripped away from him, hadn't been on the receiving end of Everett's want, his need, in a long time. The fact that he wanted to be here, bared like this, trusting him like this…

 Kaidan kissed him again, hoping Everett could feel the way he loved him, the honor he felt at being trusted again after so long, the acknowledgment of their foundation fixed and repaired, piece by piece, the work they'd put into it -- into them, the concept of "us" still important even as the universe burned around them. Choosing each other again, hands catching and holding in the dark, hoping for light as they sought comfort together. 

 They were breathless as the kiss ended, resting against each other a moment. Evvy's eyelids were heavy as he looked up at him, cheeks flushed, and Kaidan stepped back to better admire the view. As he did his eyes caught on what he'd missed when stripping Everett down: tattoos, familiar and unfamiliar, more than he'd seen on his partner's body before, spilling down from his shoulder to his wrist. 

 He took another step back, fingers maintaining contact on Evvy's knees, eyes trailing along more tattoos along the side of his torso, his hip, his thigh to his leg all the way to the little bee sleeping in a flower on his foot. 

 More flowers, some strange and alien, weaving together on Everett's skin. Kaidan reached up, tracing fingertips along their lines, his throat tight. A tattoo for each person and place that had ever meant something to Everett, a fresh set of history that Kaidan had missed, that he hadn't been there for. New friends, new connections, bonds forged in the hell of the Collector Mission, reality in the curve of each flower and vine and leaf beyond what Kaidan had gathered from intelligence reports. 

 "Kaidan." Everett cupped his chin, drawing his eyes back to his. Everett ran his thumbs over his cheekbones, soft, soothing. "We're okay." He leaned forward, kissing Kaidan's forehead. "We're okay."

 He took one of Kaidan's hands, brought his fingers to the top of his tattoos. 

 "One," Kaidan breathed. 

 "Elizabeth." The first foster parent Everett had ever had, the only one he had ever considered a parent at all. 

 "Two."

 "Liara." Delicate blue and white flowers; Kaidan wondered if they grew on Thessia, or if their Asari friend had suggested based on her own favorites.

 "Three."

 "Jack." A thorny, alien plant in a riot of colors, twining along vines.

 "Four."

 "Wrex, Grunt. Tuchanka." 

 "Five."

 "Mordin Solus." These Kaidan actually recognized from images he'd seen of the lush Salarian homeworld. His fingers lingered, hearing the hitch in Evvy's voice, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the intricate lines of the leaves -- a silent acknowledgment of his passing, a soundless thank you for being there when Kaidan hadn't. 

 And so it went -- Thane and Jacob and Miranda and Tali, Garrus and Kasumi and, near the bottom, a tangle of flowers shaded to look wrought from metal. 

 Legion. 

 Each loss marked by a kiss, a squeeze, a reassurance. 

 The fire in their veins had cooled as Kaidan made his way back up, standing between Evvy's legs, but it was replaced with something deeper, more profound, something harder to put into words. 

 So he didn't. Everett's hands slipping under his shirt to rest on his hips, seeking his warmth, his contact, and they kissed with a quiet intensity that felt a lot like home, a lot like a promise, that they'd find each other again and again.

 No matter what.

 "One more," Everett murmured against him. He took Kaidan's hand, guiding it to the opposite hip as he shifted on the desk to better show it. Small, a delicate circle of intricate lilies, and Kaidan's fingers trembled as he brushed over them.

 "What's your favorite flower?"

 "You know…maybe not the flashiest, but I've always loved lilies."

 "Sixteen," Kaidan whispered. 

 "Kaidan Alenko."

 Kaidan exhaled, shaky, eyes fluttering shut as Everett drew him into another soft, tender kiss.

19 or 20 :0

also !! your fishtank story has been so good so far :D

Thank you so much!!!!!! 💜

“Are you cold?” and “I never thought I’d be here” (went with both) featuring Ashley and Mina, set a few months or so after where Fishtank currently leaves off, platonic fluff

——————————————————

A mischievous breeze carried the sweet smell of decaying leaves, as well as the giggles and shrieks of trick-or-treaters. Halloween always held a curious novelty for Mina, Borrowers not usually observing the peculiar holiday. For the first time in her life, Mina could observe the human festivities from a safe distance on the roof with Ashley. Her whole life, the borrower had had to content herself with celebrating solo, confined within walls where it was safe. If she was lucky, maybe a human would watch a Halloween movie or have friends over. Unfortunately, that was a close as she could get.

But now, looking on with Ashley, the borrower could practically feel the excitement emanating from the crowds below. Movies and tv shows had their merits, but none properly did the beautifully haunting atmosphere justice. Legions of jack-o-lantern flames wavered with the breeze, orange and purple decorative lights covered with fake spiderwebs, bizarre and creative displays of ghouls and skeletons laid out in front lawns and porches.

“Thanks again Ash, easily the best Halloween I’ve ever had” Mina beamed up at the human from under her makeshift witch’s hat. Ashley, who hat just hit their bong, grinned at Mina before lowering their werewolf mask back over their face. Mina was taken aback as Ashly promptly proceeded to throw back their head and howl like a wolf, smoke billowing out of their mask eerily. They looked back at Mina through their mask and chuckled, contagiously spreading to Mina. The two fell into laughing and howling into the night, other howls arising from the city around them. Even some people on the streets below them joined in the ruckus.

Mina sighed, trying to catch her breath. The breeze was picking up, growing chillier as the last remnants of twilight darkened.

“Are you cold, wanna head back in for the night?” Ashley asked, resting their werewolf mask once more like a hat on top of their head. Mina considered briefly, then shook her head.

“Not yet” Mina replied, shivering again.

“I can see you shivering, Meen.” Ashley raised an eyebrow at the borrower.

“Not yet” she repeated. “I want watch some more.”

Ashley continued to watch Mina shake with cold for a minute or two before offering their hand to the borrower with a sigh. “Here.”

Mina looked from Ashley’s hand up to their huge brown eyes, and then back down again. She trusted Ashley, but being held was still something she wasn’t used to. Taking her time to quell the fluttering feeling in her stomach, Mina approached the behemoth hand and set her own down on a large, warm fingertip. After a deep breath she carefully climbed to the center of the enormous palm, running a hand over the grooved skin as she settled down. Mina noticed Ashley’s hand shake a little, though they weren’t raising it.

“Sorry, that tickle-itches” Ashley half laughed. “Ready?”

Mina nodded, reaching to brace herself against the giant fingers curling towards her before gently rising from the roof border. Ashley lifted her to the scarf around their neck and held steady so the borrower could settle herself into the delightfully warm and fuzzy fabric. Mina hadn’t realized how cold she’d become until then, Ashley’s bare hand nowhere near so warm. She nestled in, admiring the feel of the yarn Ashley used for the scarf.

The two stayed out late, even after all the trick-or-treaters had called it a night. One by one lights and decorations around them were unplugged, jack-o-lanterns either extinguished or burned out. Mina sighed contently, Ashley’s warmth gradually lulling her into wanting sleep.

How strange to think that not even six months ago Mina was so weary of Ashley, just another human to avoid in the building. Now, she was about ready to fall asleep in the human’s scarf, finally giving in to a yawn. Certainly, she never thought she’d be here.

my dreams were discombobulated so heres a list of separate events instead of the usual

- i worked at an evil candy shop. 1 of our main attractions was, you bring out a bowl of tapioca pearls, and the customer has to guess how many are in there. if theyre wrong you kill them. a really funny and cute gay girl came in for this and i was praying so hard she guessed correctly and also our fingers brushed when she gave me the money

- i carried a mans dead body (in a bag) to his funeral bc his family couldnt afford a hearse or coffin. it was super heavy and disturbing to me

- i was walking around town w a friend and he was gonna show me this abandoned house he had been exploring, but when we got to it, a man w a gun jumped out at us, and we were SOOOO scared, bc he rly was gonna shoot us...we explained that we were just stupid kids exploring the house and he told my friend he could go, but he kept me there and like, ordered me to take my clothes off, i was SO scared and i just made eye contact w my friend across the yard but we had no idea what to do

- kaylas grandma gave me a 5000dollar bill at a dinner party

- i helped a nice college professor take care if her fishtank bc someone had like vandalised it

- helped my dad relocate GIANT trashbags full of smaller walmart bags??? they were heavy and smelled bad bc it was all bags he had 'cleaned out' and reused

Hey! One of my gerbils died and the other moved out to another city into the home of an other gerbil (I don't want her to be alone, they're v social lil animals), I now have an empty aquarium of 100×40×50 cm. I was thinking of using it for plants. Do you have any ideas/inspiration what kind of plant habitat I could do there? Drainage is obvsly a problem. But maybe tropical? Or the opposite, sand & succulents & cacti? Thank you for your help!

@birdylion ok first, thank you for the support RE school 🥰

——

Secondly, omg YESSSSS. Vivariums / terrariums are so much fun!! Disclaimer, I don’t have any of the cutesy glass “perfect ecosystem” type things that love to float around Instagram, but I definitely do some other things that make for happy plants.

——

Before explaining anything about plants / drainage / etc, first I’ve gotta do a plug for the frogs: if you’re interested in another pet, FROGS are actually awesome. They’re definitely not cuddly pets, but they’re wicked cool, especially given that it sounds like you love plants and want to combine them. They’re also easy to feed, any pet store sells crickets for big frogs and flightless fruit flies for the little ones. I have a couple poison dart frogs (not actually poisonous) and they are SO FUN.

——

Read the rest below here because it has gotten REALLY LONG... whoops.

Ok so first: addressing the kinds of plants.

I honestly don’t have a ton of experience with desert plants in terrariums, so take this with a grain of salt, but in general I think that desert plants don’t love living in terrariums (please, anyone feel free to contradict me with a reblog + photos). The air flow isn’t great, and sitting on the bottom of a glass tank is going to have trouble with drainage, just as you predicted. I’m sure watering less helps, but it’ll be harder for the total water to turn over (aka allow the plants to dry out) when being enclosed on several sides. 

Tropicals: tend to do really well in terrariums that are constructed well, and if you want them to really flourish, some planning goes a long way.

----

Next: drainage / setting it up.

You have a couple options for drainage, in order by how complicated / difficult it is to accomplish:

Careful to not over-water

False bottom (my personal favorite)

Drilling bulkheads (really awesome if you’re doing a true vivarium to have plants and frogs ;) )

I suppose I have two different “enclosed plant” setups -- The Box “greenhouse” and my frog vivarium.

I’ve built a LOT of frog vivariums in my time, including working at the National Amphibian Conservation Center in Detroit for several months, and I’m currently rebuilding mine (I added bulkheads!) so don’t mind the “under construction” photos.

--

The Box

The Box is just a plastic tupperware container from Target that I used to move stuff around when I was in college, and to protect more delicate plants when I was traveling back home for the holidays. It has now become my miniature greenhouse. 

There isn’t any drainage out of it, just a thin layer of coconut fiber on the bottom (a common substrate for frogs) and I mostly set potted plants directly inside of it. It’s not the prettiest thing to look at, because the pots are just sitting on the dirt, but I like keeping them separate. I use this thing as an intensive care unit for plants that aren’t doing very well or don’t tolerate room humidity, so it’s nice to be able to swap them out. I think it wouldn’t do particularly well with a thick layer of substrate at the bottom because it would sequester both water and bacteria.

If you carefully layered some sort of sand and gravel and whatnot, I’m sure it could do well, but I have never had success with that kind of setup. That tends to work better with smaller-sized things, like little table-top glass domes and whatnot.

The thing about having any kind of terrarium (including this) is being vigilant for mold. When I first started the box, I checked it daily for mold and removed whatever I found. As long as you wipe it off of the plant, it shouldn’t hurt it much — the damage to the plant occurs when the mold can sit on the plant and do damage over time.

If you stick with it long enough, it’ll come to an equilibrium and the mold won’t be so persistent. I have tons of different plants in my box, moss in the bottom, the whole shebang, and I haven’t had any problems with mold in almost a year. I think it took about two months for The Box to settle itself out and come to a good balance.

Those photos are from a while back because I’m lazy -- that frog has sadly now died of old age. The poison dart frogs don’t live in The Box.

--

False Bottomed Terrarium

So this is exactly as it says -- you build a “false bottom” for your tank, which allows space underneath for water to drain. Bonus if you add in a tube to siphon out excess water. 

For my frog terrarium, I use plastic egg crate covered in household screen as my base, and PVC pipe as spacers (nice consistent size, allow air flow, etc.). The false bottom should be an inch or two above the surface of your tank. You can then plant your terrarium however you would like, with the soil directly on top of the false bottom. All excess water will collect below the surface of your soil, which helps cut down on the bacteria growing IN the soil, and keep the humidity of your tank high. 

If you add a spot to snake a pipe down (have you ever seen a fishtank siphon?) to drain out excess water (just tip the terrarium to help get all the water in the same space), you’ll avoid building up lovely sulfur-smelling bacteria. You can either leave it in the corner of your tank, or jerry-rig some kind of cap somewhere that you can then put in a hose to siphon. (I haven’t done this yet in my terrarium bc it’s still under construction).

----

Lastly: Bulkheads!

If you’re really brave, you can take your tank to be drilled (or do it yourself if you’re ballsy) for bulkheads. 

A bulkhead is just a hole through the glass, that you then “seal off” with a PVC bulkhead to allow you to get things in and out of the glass sides. In my terrarium, I have one bulkhead for the waterfall, one as drainage for the “pond” filtration system, and one as drainage for excess water from the land area. That REALLY helps the drainage problem, because you give yourself a hole for everything to drain from!

Keep in mind, water will still build up to the surface of the bulkhead -- it’s not perfectly flat, but it does a heck of a lot better than nothing at all. 

Also: if you ever decide to convert your tank to a fishtank, bulkheads do WONDERS for fish circulation and adds up to happier and healthier fish.

If you’re curious -- I’m working with a 20 gal tank (50cm x 43cm x 33cm) for some really tiny dart frogs, so it’s easy to do even in small tanks!

--

If you go with the vivarium / landscape type setup, there are a ton of ways to make it look really cool (fake rock that builds your landscape, etc -- that’s what all the yellow foam is in my tank), but the process on that takes a long time! I’ll answer that in another ask if you’re curious!

Heck, I’m even building a waterfall and pond into my tiny tank.

Here’s some terrarium inspiration pulled off the internet for your browsing pleasure:

543

How many times have you ever ridden an elephant? Once, in Bali. I was around 15 and didn’t know any better. I wouldn’t do it again. Do you like cobblers? As far as I know those things have fruit in them, so no. What do you think about Lord of the Rings? Never followed the trilogy; I tried reading it but was BORED out of my mind from the very first book. I do remember having a PS2 game of LOTR and watching my cousins and uncles play – was pretty fun and gave me lots of memories from childhood. What kind of cup did you last drink out of? It was a plastic cup that resembles glass. Do you currently have any cuts or scrapes? Nope.

Did you like Barney as a child? Did I like Barney? Honestly it was all I ever watched as a kid, other than Magic English and repeats of Toy Story and Finding Nemo, hahaha. I think we had all the Barney DVDs, too. What color vacuum do you use? We don’t use a vacuum anymore but we used to own a very big and bulky white one. Do you have a lot of clothes hangers in your house? Yes. Have you ever been in a Latin class? Nope. I never had to take a foreign language elective and I’m also not sure if my school even offers Latin. Have you ever had bubble gum stuck in your hair? Yeah, when I was like 5. Weirdly enough it was easy to remove it, though. Is there any pet hair stuck to your clothing? Right now, no. What do you smell? Nothing significant in particular. Have you ever watched The Gremlins? I have not. What is your favorite type of seashell? I don’t have a favorite; I find them all pretty. Do you love 3-D movies? Waste of money. The movies are just as good when watched in 2D, and you even get to save 100-200 bucks. But ya know, whatever floats your boat. Have you ever used Proactiv? No. Is your cell on charge? It is, but from my laptop because I’m also charging the latter and there’s only one charging port available from where I’m sitting. Do you like dirt or sand better? Sand is fun to play with. When's the last time you had a hamburger? Tuesday. Do you own an iHome? I don’t. Do you own a BEST FRIEND charm or firgurine? No. What do you think about rainbows? I think they’re pretty. I feel nice when I do see them. Are you wearing anything on your head right now? I've put on my hairtie to style my hair in a ponytail. Are you watching cartoons? Not at the moment. Do you own a pet spider? I don’t, and I’ve never had a pet spider. Do you like mouthwash? Idk, I don’t really use it. Have you ever used a Ped-Egg? I have no idea what this is. Do you like Olay products? Nope...I don’t use skincare products, period. Have you ever gone on a cruise? Yep, I have. Do you use green pens? When correcting papers, sure. Do you own anything that has a striped pattern on it? I have shirts that have striped designs. Do you watch Wheel of Fortune? I don’t. They don’t air it here so I don’t really have a reason to want to watch it. Are there any fake tattoos on you? No, I haven’t done this since I was like 14 lol. When's the last time you saw your grandpa? Father’s side, last September. Mother’s side, 2015. Is there a rocking chair in your house? No. Do you call your animals "baby names"? Huh?? What does ‘baby names’ mean? Why does George Lopez say "I GOT THIS!!" in that voice? ??? Do you have homework? Yes but don’t remind me lmao this day is for taking surveys onlyyy. Have you ever gone to a Monster Truck show? No, that sounds really boring for me. Well, have you ever seen the Nutcracker? Nope, but I would love to. Where did you get your bed sheets? Pretty sure my mom got them from a department store. Do you always use manners? Of course. Have you ever been stood up? I don’t think so. Are your lips chapped? No, they aren’t. Have you ever been kicked in the throat? Wow, that’s terrible but no. Do you own a fishtank? I don’t. When is the last time you were sick? I have no idea; I barely get sick. It was sometime in high school, definitely. Do you like the song "Barbie Girl"? Not really, but I don’t actively hate it. What do you usually order from Taco Bell? I get one of their burritos, but tbh I’ve only ever been to Taco Bell twice that I can’t even call their burritos my usual. If you have a cell, is it touch screen? Yes. Do you own a feather boa? No. Are you allergic to peanuts? I am not. Do you wear ribbons in your hair? No, I wouldn’t know how to tie them. I think they’d look pretty on me, though. Did you get into the Livestrong bracelet kick? Never did. How many pictures are on the wall of the room you are in? There’s five pictures and two paintings on my bedroom walls. Do you use cheat codes on video games? I used cheats on my Grand Theft Auto games. Have you ever gone mudding on a fourwheeler? I have not. Is there a rolly chair in your bed room? No. What is your favorite flavor Jolly Rancher? Ugh this survey is such a drag skskksksksk I have not tried Jolly Ranchers ever. Who is your favorite super hero? I don’t like any of them. Who is your favorite Villan? I don’t have a favorite Villan. Have you ever been to a church camp? No that sounds insanely boring. Is there a trampoline in your back yard? There isn’t, and we never had one. Have you ever played Dance Dance Revolution? A few times before at Kaira’s place. I hate dancing though so I usually let my other friends hog the game instead. Have you ever swam in a creek? Nope. Do you enjoy running? When I was younger, sure; that’s why I took up track for a couple of years. Then I found out it wasn’t the sport for me because my endurance is just terrible. How long has it been since you last slept? It’s been around eight or nine hours. What are your thoughts on Myspace? Iconic, I guess, but I was always too young for it. It was dying by the time I joined it. What is the last thing you dropped? My phone charger. How many nickels are in your posession? I don’t have any nickels and I’ve never had. Is the sound on your laptop or computer turned off? Nope, it’s turned on right now. How many items do you have in your "favorites"? You mean my bookmark bar? A ton. I have important links, articles to read, quirky websites I don’t want to forget, and even my own bookmark folder for surveys that I save for future reference hahaha. Would you ever slide down a razor blade slide into a pool full of alcohol? What the fuck. What is the last infomercial you saw? I recently saw a HILARIOUS ad for a local water dispenser that was styled as an infomercial. How many magnets are on your refrigerator? Too many. My dad technically travels for a living and he has always bought magnets from every single city he’s been in. He’s been to every continent except for Africa and Antarctica, I think. How many keychains do you own? I’m not really fond of collecting them. JM did give each of us Ferrari keychains from his recent trip to Singapore for the F1 races, however they’re called. Do you own anything with a peace sign on it? I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t think I do. Have you ever been to Johnny Rocket's? I went there, once. There was a time when Tumblr decided that Johnny Rockets was a cool retro place for the hipsters, so I asked my mom to take us there. Food sucked and was WAY too expensive. How many stuffed animals are in your room? None. Was never into them. Look up, then to the right. What do you see? The wall and a small TV. Have you ever done the "Cupid Shuffle". No. Do you know how to do the Solja Boy dance? I know how, I just won’t dance it lmao. Are you currently being stalked by anyone? As far as I know, no lol. When is the last time you wore shorts? Right now. Do you like elevators or escelators? Escalators. Have you ever layed on a tampur pedic? No. Have you ever been in Karate? No. What color is the nearest lampshade? There aren’t any in this place in the house. Is there anyone in the room with you? I’m in the dining room, but my sister is in the living room which is just super nearby. How long has it been since you've eaten a Reese's? 2-3 weeks ago.

When is the last time you went to Walmart? Never. Do you own any body glitter? I don’t. What brand of hair straightner do you own, if you own one? I don’t have one. What is your favorite brand of chips? PRINGLES What time was it 20 minutes ago? 3:51 PM. When is the last time you pet an animal? A few minutes ago. Do you own anything from Aeropostale? No. Did you have fun with this survey? Meh. Was it random, or no? It was random, but I didn’t know 2/5 of the things that were being talked about and it was almost purely yes or no.

They walked the junction strip, valence shifting from their mostly-decades-past timecapsule through to an encroachment of suburbanite-friendly "furnishings" stores, cafes and restaurants, and over at the other end was a splash of downtown with angry slogans on the plank panels up around a future condo highrise, where there was also a boutique looking dispensary. The road bisecting Dundas here was wide and flanked on either side of the intersection by a cheque cashing place in a heritage building and a crummylooking sub shop that boasted 30 years spent on the other corner.  Everywhere else was a pub, gastropub, deli you could drink in, or sake/sushi bar.  The most ridiculous of these as far as Dan could see, was a glowing beacon of nerdy dreckitude with a giant fishtank window, under a sign Dan realized said the same name Jean-Paul had said, just as Jean-Paul deftly turned to avoid some other pedestrians and placed himself next to the door, which he then held open for Dan.  Still the impression of the coachman.  Presumably it was intentional.

He glanced at the perfectly-put-together-punk bar staff and the making-an-effort young professional nerd patrons and the open-concept-dynamic videogamecouchpit, hedged by cabinetlike themed booth tables full of people and pitchers and nacho plates and noise, and felt, fortunately, sheltered by Jean-Paul’s presentablity, and company.  Bruce and Mouse were already seated in one of the ostentatiously completeist booths, in either corner, facing them.  Bruce waved excitedly—he was also Not Appropriately Attired, and looked more or less like he’d just stumbled out of a stoner pride parade for a minute to say hi.  It would have been embarassing, Dan guessed, for him to be that out of place, someplace else.  Here it didn't really matter because yeah, it didn't fit but eh, that didn't stand out.  Although Dan had only ever seen Chuck E Cheeses in ads it reminded him of one, and he wondered why he felt stared-at as they waded into it; it seemed like they had opted to sit in the chuck-e-cheesiest both, too, which was unsurprising.  The little Russian roommate was also out of place somehow, dressed like if a guy in a Jimmy Stewart movie was dressed like he wasn’t there to impress anyone, in shirtsleeves and nondescript slacks. Which was probably how he always dressed unless he happened to have hardcore regalia for scene occasions.  Passing the other booths Dan thought Bruce must have chosen, because the gore booth seemed more like Mouse's cup, being starkly brutal.

“I thought you only ate things you grew or that someone threw,” he said to Bruce as he slid into the space diagonally across from him.  Bruce looked glassy-eyed in the low amber light of the booth, and he was smiling widely.

"This place is new," as if that explained everything, probably because it rhymed.  “Yeahhh… I s’pose one can always be more precise, or less," he went on, sawing his pint mug back and forth between his hands, his eyes on the beer swirling between them.  "That was kinda a big ol’ duvet of a statement, wasn’t it. Y’know, a statement-statement.  I’m super glad to be caught out! Really, I’m kinda against…statement-statements…” He seemed hyper, in a baked, lilting way, and sounded almost delirious. “There’s like, if I knew what was closer to heaven than this shit, I dunno.  I’d live there,” he giggled. “Oh wait, ha-ha-ha.” He smelled strongly like heavy, skunky weed and another smell, like daffodils; Dan was catching it as it mixed with the various beer-and-bar-food-and-boardgames odours of the place.

“Well…party on, Garth,” he said.  A hoot of laughter shot out of Bruce, and some other patrons glanced at their table from the bar.  Across from him Jean-Paul was studying the short drink list, still, and beside him, Mouse was lounging, relaxed, glowering in the general direction of everything.

“Party ON, Wayne,” Bruce called back.

“I want to eat.  I am tired of chatting,” said Mouse, who hadn't chatted at all since Dan and Jean-Paul’s arrival.  The radioshow or podcast or whatever it was came to mind suddenly, and Dan was glad he'd heard some of it that Mouse had featured in, before seeing him again.  It helped to frame him as human now that Dan had sort-of-observed him in some kind of social context in which he wasn't completely withdrawn.  

Bruce bounced to his feet easily, almost clumsy, and waved at the bar, leaning out of the booth over Jean-Paul.  One of the bartenders came over, looking amused and unannoyed.

After Jean-Paul had ordered his wine "and some crudites," Bruce announced that he'd been greenlit to order for Pete in case Pete hadn't shown up by the time they were all there.  Mouse remarked that Pete was smart and had probably just taken an opportunity to have take-out picked up and brought back for him.

------

Once the food arrived, the group ate in near silence, at varying speeds—Bruce wolfed down his "spicy spacewich" and soup, and made various mewling noises throughout, while Mouse and Dan set  more consistent, workmanlike paces on their consistent, workmanlike turkey burgers.  Jean-Paul began with his wine, operating on his plate sedately after two glasses ordered and finished back to back.  Dan felt the silence begin to press after most of his plate was cleared, and felt like taking a break before attempting another beer.  He'd eaten more real food in the past 24 hours than he had since staying at his parents place, and it was making his mouth hurt, like it wasn't used to the abrasion of stuff that didn't come from a can.  He ran his tongue around his sore gums, wondered what to bring up by way of conversation, and observed Mouse observing him in his peripheral, then realized that anyone openly staring at him would see his eye rotated to the corner.  Dan wiped his mouth with his napkin, maintaining the weird peripheral eye contact.  The little Russian watched him impassively, leaning back from his empty plate, half up against the wall.  It was humid in the restaurant, and he could see Mouse’s dark grey hair sticking to the light sweat on his forehead, which was brightly flushed.

“I’m…wondering about your nickname,” he said it casually, attempting to sound somewhat respectful at the same time.

“Why?  I think it is self-evident.”

Dan felt abashed but ploughed on. “Well, I suppose... that’s why I’m wondering.  It seems,” he searched for a word other than belittling but had difficulty.

“One does not choose their own pet-name. You should ask Bruce.”  Dan looked across the table at Bruce, who was in some sort of sexual-looking trance, still eating; his eyes were rolled far back and he was smiling, his cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk as he motored up and down with his lower jaw. It annoyed Dan to watch, suddenly, and he looked away quickly.  He found the use of the word ‘pet’ odd but considered it an artefact of bilingualism or whatever.  Bruce loudly finished a huge mouthfull and made a noise that was slightly more of a sigh than a moan but was somewhat too obscene either way.

“Duuuude, fuuuuck. God, oh my God,” Bruce noted.  Dan looked at him expectantly but instead of addressing the nickname issue Bruce called to the bar again, using the name he'd learned from their server earlier, and ordered a nacho plate and more drinks, "silly ones with, with funny hats and fruit and those embalmed cherries and straws, please."  Dan wondered who was paying for it, suddenly feeling like Bruce wasn't.

“Um.  Mouse’s…name,” he questioned after the order was taken.  

“What, it’s Sasha,” said Bruce.  He looked at Dan cluelessly.  Dan filed that away, assuming he’d forget but thinking that it suited the little guy, who rolled his eyes without looking at anyone at the table in particular.  He was still lounging, arms crossed.

“He wants to hear about why you call me Mouse,” he supplied to Bruce, although it wasn't true, because Dan already knew what the story behind it was, and had actually wanted to know what Mouse actually thought about the name itself.  Bruce took on an even more inane energy, probably due to his drink order arriving rather than the subject, although Dan recognized him revving into story-mode as he passed out the other two silly drinks he'd ordered, one to each of them except Jean-Paul, who was still working wordlessly on drinking an entire bottle of wine glass by glass by himself very quickly without appearing to drink it very quickly, which seemed to be a lot of fun for him.  

Bruce slurped his drink, reached a point where he could empty the rest into his mouth and did, and then explained that “it was a totally perfect fit—didn’t you see that ep of Law ‘n Order?” Dan hadn’t, and was annoyed that Bruce didn't remember telling him already, but shook his head no without interrupting. “Jesus, what did other families do together, god!  My family, we’d always all watch el-oh together every weeknight—all nine kids piled in’ta the den arguin’ ‘bout ethical grey areas an’ relativity an’ shit.  Plus, like, we had this sliding scale of Tangness game we’d play with Jerry Orbach season-to-season, ep-to-ep, right? Okay so, the rule is—”

“Tell him about the name,” said Jean-Paul, neutrally.  He sipped his wine.

“Hooo, right, right.  So there’s this ep with this dude who’s like this overbearing Russian Dad and he has this kid who’s like, totally conflicted about their relationship, and the Dad calls the kid ‘Mouse’ ‘cause he’s a dick about how the kid’s small an’ shy or whatever.  The kid totally offed him, and McCoy was like—”

“Isn’t that a…kind of fucked up reminder?  I mean, Jesus, didn’t…you,” he addressed Mouse directly to avoid choosing between the name he’d just learned and the name he was questioning the application of, “didn’t you live on the street for two years or something to avoid living with your father?”

“And?” asked Mouse.

“That seems like, why would you want to be called this name that suggests all that shit?”

“I find it very suitable,” said Mouse.  “Should I not?  The details of my personal history and the character Bruce identified are coincidental.  I have known people, even strangers, to call Bruce, for instance, Spicoli.  He makes no bones,” Dan noticed the use of the idiomatic phrase particularly “about what it is that he, himself, is.  I had a bad relationship with my father.  I am Russian.  I am small.  If people notice something about me without knowing me, it is that I am small.  If they hear me being called Mouse, they assume it is because I am small—maybe also because I am prematurely greyhaired.  If someone called me Mouse in the wrong way, I would be offended…but I would be offended by being called anything, if it was the wrong way.  I maybe have had to fight some podcast listeners."  He tried to picture Bruce’s podcast having listeners worth fighting, unsuccessfully.  It occurred to him that Mouse might be telling him to stop being so familiar.

“‘Had to,’” echoed Bruce cheerfully, inflected with slight admonishment and air-quoting.  He was giving Mouse an eye, if not the eye, with his head forward in a tilt.

“I have taught some unconsidered lessons in respect.  I don’t make it my habit,” Mouse got up, which seemed like a conclusion, and after Dan stood so he could get out, went to the bathroom.

“You don’t make it your habit to talk to anyone, either, before your fists start the conversation first!  You gotta relax,” shouted Bruce, drawing attention again.  Dan looked at Jean-Paul, who was just finishing his wine.

“The story of Mouse’s nickname,” Jean-Paul concluded.  He wiped his mouth with a napkin and folded his hands over his stomach, looking over at Dan.  He waited.

“Was that awkward?”

“I didn’t think so,” said Jean-Paul.

“So, Mouse…” the name-use felt charged, now, “has a short…shortish fuse.”

“Mouse has a serious anger management problem.  He needs counselling.”

“Is he…what should I watch out for?  Can I avoid…” a broken nose.

“I don’t know.  I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to make him angry.  I'm a polite person.”

“But you’ve seen him angry,” Dan was aware of the length of time Mouse had been gone and shoulder-checked just as he returned.

“Don’t be a dick,” said Jean-Paul simply.  “He seems to get mad at dickishness.”  Mouse didn’t seem perturbed by this commentary on him, but didn't add anything, instead starting at last on the creation Bruce had ordered him.

Who can tell when they’re being a dick, though? Dan asked himself. His ex had always told him when she thought so.  Who can reliably tell what’s dickish to this guy, if he’s got unknown boundaries in unknown places.  He noticed he felt done with dinner, on the verge of less than comfortable.  His socially adrift feeling was catching up to him, or his awareness of its presence suddenly increased.  He wanted to be alone with himself—away from his own wondering about his roommate's dimensions and the uncurling anxiety about safely interacting.

“I’ll…do my best,” he said to the table at large.

There was no comment on this because someone passing the entrance to their booth said something about something and it was like the hair stood up all over Jean-Paul and Mouse.  Even Bruce seemed to emit a frisson of hostility, suddenly.

Mouse told Jean-Paul that “people should mind their manners,” loudly, and Jean-Paul agreed, loudly, sounding bored.  

Dan was wondering how to beat  a speedy path out the door without seeming like he was intentionally bailing just when that'd be really unhelpful, when Pete appeared from behind him, standing next to the booth.  Without a word he reached over to Bruce's nacho plate remnants and scooped up a loose sample.  Chewing, he noted "no," at the mouthful, Dan guessed, before swallowing and adding "the guac at La Rev is better, we're going next door."

"That's fine," Mouse told him, looking, for the first time, happy.  "Done anyway, getting loud in here, you know?"

"Really."  Pete looked unimpressed.  "Who."  Just then whoever had said something about something came back from the bathroom, and while Dan didn't see whatever Mouse did that cued Pete, he did see Bruce's face as he braced for impact.  Pete took a step backward at just-the-moment, and whoever it was who'd said something about something stumbled hard sideways but didn't fall, and reoriented glaring at Pete's back.  Whoever it was didn't say anything, and went back to whatever group was waiting.  "Was that all," Pete asked over his shoulder.

"That's allllllll, folks," Bruce chirped without waiting, jumping up and making ushering motions at the three of them in the booth.  They piled out, first from the booth and then the bar, after Jean-Paul left a stack of bills at the table, which looked like probably one more twenty than necessary.

Outside Dan expected to disappear again, down the stairs to the bar with the good guac, but they didn't, instead standing around at the fishtank window, making it clear that whoever it was who'd said something about something wasn't prepared to come out.  Jean-Paul pulled out a cigarette pack and lit up, breathing plumes up into the night air.  It was only about nine p.m.  Dan was surprised that Bruce wasn't working on a joint since they were outside, but Bruce seemed to be upset about the idea of fighting.  Dan wasn't keen, either, but wasn't wildly concerned once a group of people didn't follow them out.

"Cowards," Mouse remarked at them placidly, through the glass, ignored.

-----

Pete was really fun, it turned out, after Dan had watched him hold court for a while.  And his taste in bars was more in line with Dan's own; La Rev was much darker, but warm and decoratively sedate, with much more seating and much less business.  And they did have good guac--the best guacamole Dan had ever had, which didn't surprise him because the place wasn't a Taco Time Cantina and it seemed like they made it fresh by hand or something.  He hadn't tried any of Bruce's nachos earlier, and his basis for comparison stopped at "narrow."

"So, aside from DJ, what've you done, what jobs have you had."  This was the first time Pete had said anything directly to him since they'd changed venues.  

It wasn't a surprising question, Pete was trying to contextualize him, and putting him on the spot, too.  Glad he had what he assumed would be an acceptable answer, he said simply, "fast food."  Pete was a socialist or whatever, right?  Minimum wage had to have some shine of honour to it that lapdog didn't.

"And thief," added Jean-Paul casually, maybe running a bit of interference for him.  A good friend, Dan felt.  Deft, and merciful.  The best.  Pete spread a kind of assessing look between the two of them, calmly telegraphing that something was being measured.  He looked a bit disgruntled, like it was supposed to have been a one-on-one interview.

"Cool," he said without sounding like he thought anything was cool at all.  He waved at the bar and a second pitcher showed up.  Dan and Bruce had helped with the first, mainly to be polite on Dan's part, and it seemed like the second was for Pete and Mouse to work on by themselves.  "So you're going to do audio stuff for the shit show." Bruce giggled beerily at that, apparently not too precious to hear a shot fired at his deranged brainchild.

"Yeah," hearing himself, Dan sounded leery back, and realized it was the sound of insecurity.  Pete knew he'd been out with Andreah, or maybe Pete just felt like everyone in town hated him.  Dan suddenly felt extremely sympathetic, and realized he was drunk again, at the same time.

"What do you use, like what programs, what's your gear."  His stress surged back, he hated being grilled about technical shit.  

Sounding abashed he said "ableton, like the whole universe.  But the good computer was my ex's, everything was hers.  I've used everything, in highschool.  Garageband and FL, all that. MIDI keyboards,"

"Do you have one, did you have one of those pad things?  Beatpads?"  Dan realized then that Pete didn't DJ or at least didn't know enough to keep the hot seat hot.  Talking to serious techspecheads was the worst.  He wanted to say, you might as well ask if I have a bop-it.  But that was what he'd say to cut someone down for trying to cut him down, and that wasn't what he was trying to do here, he knew.  

"No, we used synth keyboards.  I never got good with a korg."

"So, what're you going to make for the show?" What was this, independent employee review?  When would it end.

"I have to listen to more of it," was a good excuse, when he heard himself say it.  It was true.

"I want him to do things like, you know how I'm always saying there should be a good version of good vibrations?"

"Right, the chorusless version," Mouse had been drinking mostly, ploughing through the pitcher with Pete.  He put his glass down and added "why don't you do it yourself?"

"Oh, I know lots of other things, and I knew I'd meet someone someday who would know how to do that, so I didn't learn that.  Obviouslyyyyy.  Besides," Bruce wheedled, sounding pleased with himself and seeming to annoy Mouse, "I can't handle using audio software, those programs are so... dry."  Dan didn't find them particularly dry, in fact they were like a kind of game, very visual--he was surprised Bruce didn't like them.

"Right, everything should look like candycrush," Pete scoffed.  "He says the same thing about video editing.  I've told them a million times they should do a youtube series.  But spaceboy wont do the editing or find someone, and I'm too busy."  And too not interested in working with others, Dan figured.  Spaceboy was the perfect nickname for Bruce, Dan belatedly applauded to himself.

"What kind of video editing do you do?" That was the wrong question, Pete's glance at him was a glare.

"Pete makes concert videos and does independent protest coverage," Jean-Paul fielded, smoothing something over when he added "and he's good."

"Yeah, I can't afford him," Bruce was fussing in his seat and seemed bored of being inside.  He looked like he needed a walk.

"Good thing you can afford this guy," Pete didn't really sound like he thought it was a good thing. "What've you been doing since you got here.  Have you put together some kind of breakup lashback collection or what."  He knew.  Something, or all of it.  Maybe Bruce had told him something to get him to agree to show up, or at some other point to get some kind of sympathy bond going. Then he remembered about Jean-Paul telling them about his roid. And whatever else about him. Like about his ex.

"I haven't done any music since leaving-- since getting here.  Her computers, her gear, like I said.  My laptop is from years ago, I don't even know what runs on it."

"So you've been..." He sounded suspicious.

"...exploring the neighbourhood, I guess."  That was the most doing-stuff-like thing he'd done, and he'd put it generously.

"Oh yeah?  So you're into urban exploration."

"I guess?"

"You do parkour at all?"

"...no." Who actually did parkour, come on, how was that not a low blow.

"So have you been up to the old incinerator up above St. Clair?  It's fucking insane, we should do a show there.  Bring the generator, do some flyers so there's enough crowd to mosh.  I know this political rap crew, they really want to be on a line-up with these guys Mouse knows."  Which did sound like an amazing show, even if Dan had no idea what the old incinerator was.

"I haven't been there, but yeah, maybe in the summer or something, right?"  He could help carry stuff, it wasn't like he was being told to DJ, or MC it.

Pete looked disappointed and poured out more of the pitcher, telling him "everyone says that.  Shutting off all winter is waste."

"Ease off," Mouse took his refilled beer, glaring.  Pete shrugged.

"You should go to the old kodak factory too, its up that way, and see if that big place by the chocolate bar factory by Lansdowne is open anywhere, or-- how far east have you been?  Have you been to, where've you been?"

Now that he was talking about something that apparently interested him a great deal, Pete was really firing up.  Dan was glad, suddenly talking to him was fun, like listening to him without being grilled. "I, not.  Listen, I've been to none of these places.  I've been as far as, you know where the, the bridge thing is, where the, uh, the trains? Pass over the road, the one that crosses Dundas right before where we are?"

"Keele," Pete looked amused, at least.

"Yeah, so, that overgrown lot there, with the billboard.  I've walked down the alley that runs around there, behind Dundas back up to the house.  Like, from the dollar store to the house, and the sidestreets.  I've been pretty much nowhere."

"That's pitiful.  But whatever, honestly that's just how everyone is in the winter, I don't know what else I expected."

Bruce had been kind of wheeling around in his seat in fits, waiting for whatever his turn looked like.  This, apparently. "GUYS. You know how the oogles took the map?"  

Pete grumbled and Mouse continued to look annoyed.  Jean-Paul had had the appearance of wishing to be elsewhere since finishing his wine one bar ago, but he said "sure," prompting.

"Let's make Dan a map!  A big map!  A new map for the house!"

"You can," Pete stood up to leave.  "We all done here?"  

Jean-Paul paid again and they trooped out into the night, Bruce still spazzing in anticipation, obviously supercharged by friend-time and too many "paper hat" drinks and beers.

"Let's go on an adventure!"

"You can," Mouse echoed Pete, close to his side while the other three waited on Jean-Paul finding his pack of smokes in his coat and Bruce sparking a short blunt he'd pulled out of somewhere. "I am going back."

"Same, I'm busy," Pete sniffed once and turned to go, the eye still on them travelled over them, making brief contact with Dan's line of sight. "But have fun." And the two of them walked away across Keele, heading toward the house. Mouse sort of nodded goodbye, with a glance at Dan specifically, it seemed like--the sliver of eye-contact was burned into his memory instantly, and for some reason played on repeat.

There was a weird feeling, it seemed to Dan, like he was sleepwalking and conversely brought to a focus by the parting, like he'd been challenged to prove something, and asked to do a favor, at the same time.  Was he going to Brucey-sit or not?  "Where are we going," he asked the ridiculous muppet, who was flopping his arms around dejectedly at them. "Pete mentioned doing a show somewhere near here, in some building?"

Bruce looked alert. "Yeah yeah yeah, let's go!"

"No," Jean-Paul groaned and swiped at his face with his gloved palmheel. "That's too far, it's cold. When its warmer. You two can go location finding. Tonight he should stay warm. We should all stay warm."

"Well, the condo with the good dumpsters isn't far..." Bruce looked scared he was about to shed party members, sounded plaintive.

Dan realized that Jean-Paul was trying to coral Bruce back toward home, and decided to support the effort even though he had just decided to stick with Bruce while he ran around outside. "Is it really worth going up to some dumpsters?"

"Uh, Yes. This would be like, the best night. No one else is out."

"No, but, will there be anything? Do they throw away that much packaged food?" He and his ex had never really kept food for it to go bad.

Bruce stared at him. "Well, no, that's stores and stuff. No, these guys throw away furniture and all sorts of other stuff. Stuff you couldn't imagine. How do you think we end up with so much stuff? So much stuffuffuf..." he shimmied in time to his own words. "Where do you think your mattresses came from for us to know they were just from a move? Rich people don't take anything with them. They know they can just buy it over again."

Dan thought of how he'd left all the clothes behind, left everything, and felt kind of guilty. "Yeah, I'll uh, I'm in. I can help carry, in case you find more futons or whatever." Bruce nodded giddily, hopping around them.

"Fine," Jean-Paul's breath appeared in front of him and Dan felt appreciative of the cold more accutely than he had ever in his life, in that second. "We're stopping somewhere warm on the way back," Jean-Paul informed them. "I'm still feeling generous." Dan decided he was drunk and not buzzed and felt like being drunk had never made so much sense as it did on a night like this. This face-biting, mind-distilling freeze that kept him from feeling sleepy but not distant or warm. Beer-jacketed. He licked his lips and they felt dry, chapped but at a remove. Almost another mouth. Someone else. They were walking up Keele already, the three of them, under the incandescent seeming streetlights and moving among flurries of light movielike flakes that skated around the street in tight syncopated formations. Trees swayed in their squares of sidewalk and across the street above a parking lot a weird whirligig was making noise, spinning. It reminded Dan vaguely of the thing the person Bruce had spoken to in Kensington had had in their hair.

Up near the train tracks there was a staircase and a stunted the-ad-said-fairytale-like kind of arbor garden under the looming grandeur of an ugly highrise, and it was there that Bruce wanted to swim through the leavings.

------

"Not far at all," he commented to Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul didn't reply but didn't look annoyed. Dan took his expression to be one of inebriated amiability. "We should walk back along the tracks, the fence is open right over there," he gestured with his chin, hands in his pockets. Their breaths hung around like ghosts, or chalk dust. Inverted shadows. Dan felt like he didn't usually appreciate beauty, and in noticing himself enjoying it he felt caught up by the unusual zest of the evening.

"Weren't we going to see if there was somewhere open for a drink before heading back?" That seemed strangely boring.

There was banging in the dumpster beside them. They were in a small bay of six or so metal bins full of truly weird detritus. Most of it really was household useable objects, but nothing they needed or wanted was immediately visible; it was mostly clean empty containers and old tupperware, luggage, small kid stuff, and lighting fixtures. Anything beyond that needed mining. There were also bags of diapers. Bags and bags of used diapers to wade through. Jean-Paul was smoking and Dan was helping by watching. For security.

"Didn't you drink a whole bottle of wine already?" Jean-Paul looked at him, and pursed his mouth.

"What can I say. I'm a bottle-and-a-half-before-midnight kind of guy. You obviously didn't go to college in Montreal."

"Obviously not." He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean but it came out sounding judgemental and he guessed that was all he really meant by it once he heard himself.

"I've been scaling back since my halcyon youth, you know. For my health." Jean-Paul paused, "It used to be two and a half." He laugh and, at whatever face Dan had made, laughed again and explained "It's just, I don't know, what you do in the winter. And the summer. And the spring. And fall. But mostly the winter...and the summer. But for sure the winter." He laughed again at himself and at Dan. "Oh don't be a hypocrite." That's just it, I'm not, Dan thought, knowing well enough to know it was alarming.

Not wanting to get into an argument he said "you never told me much about Montreal."

"What about it. The winter here's nothing. The summer here's better. People are meaner there. Lots of churches and bars. Lots of parties."

That wasn't what he'd meant. "I was asking about you at McGill, like what you took, or," when you moved here because of that band, he didn't say. That band that broke up. "Your radio show."

Jean-Paul looked taken aback and mildly offended anyway. "How'd you find out about that, I didn't put anything on my own facebook." His eyes narrowed at a noise from behind him, in a dumpster. "Bruce. That gossipy bitch."

Dan realized he'd given it all away already.

------

The trio started the walk back from what Bruce told them would be labelled Le Bougebinery on the house map. Bruce had found some old national geographics he seemed to find valuable, and two carousels of unmarked cds that apparently wanted checking, but otherwise they were emptyhanded, which pleased Jean-Paul, who expressed that it would have been more of a bother than an errand if they'd all had to carry furniture back, because he still wanted to stop in somewhere.

Dan was sort of floating in and out of the conversation, stressed about something but unable to name what it was. It was mixed up with drinking and Jean-Paul and feeling weird that he wasn't supposed to know things. Wasn't supposed to have been told. And wasn't supposed to bring up the drinking. Or the things he wasn't supposed to know. He felt like he really needed to see his mission to keep Bruce company tonight through, no matter what. "I'm still not carrying anything. And I can, I mean. Do you want to go... find... uh... groceries? Dumpster diving downtown?" The subway was running still, they could go check and come back up, just like that.

Bruce sniffed his runny nose and looked surprised, clarifying "that's Tuesdays, so you can help me tomorrow if you want. Make super cereal sure that I put the garbage collection zones and nights on the map when I make it, pleeeease." He seemed to peer ar Dan before deciding "Y'know back at the bougebins..."

"No," Jean-Paul said around his cigarette. "A quick drink and then back." He looked at Bruce, who had stopped. Jean-Paul sighed at him, crossing his arms and waiting.

"It's not even late. You're sooooo oooooooold."

Dan laughed at the two of them and Jean-Paul visibly relented, adding "fine," because he'd help with whatever it was Bruce had decided to get help with afterall.

Bruce smiled beautifically at them both. "I love you guys," he told them, sounding tearful and overcome.

Someday the dream must end

remember that final fantasy au??? think you were done?? off the hook?? incorrect, im constantly devising ways to incorporate my love of shcool idols into my love of video games, watch in awe and amazement as i completely warp the plotline of ffx to fit my needs and also make Ruby Kurosawa Sad, also i blatantly ripped off the title from my favorite song in the soundtrack, sorry not sorry ((please listen to it its so good,,,,i cry,,,,))

anyways here have monsters magic and siblings crying ft yoshiko mari and kanan

“Hey, Ruby~! Keep up!” Yoshiko calls with a loppy smile from up on the ridge ahead of her, which is a really bad idea for someone who trips as often as Yoshiko does, really, doesn’t she think about this kind of thing at all – Mari yanks her away from the edge and pulls her into a too-affectionate hug as an excuse, but shoots Ruby a meaningful look over Yoshiko’s shoulder.

Ruby nods, stepping a little faster up the hill and tearing her eyes away from the sun’s reflection on the ocean. “We’re in Zanarkand again.” She says bluntly. “Are you….are you sure you’re ready for this, Mari?”

The waves crash up against the wall of the cliff and Ruby looks out to sea again, and she can see the ruins from around the curve of the mountain now – the walls pulsate with glimmering spirits like a beacon for the summoners on their home stretch.

Mari gives her a placating smile and walks over slowly, like her legs are only getting tired just now. She puts a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “If we weren’t ready, we would still be in Besaid moping about things,” She says, and Ruby blushes and looks away for a moment. Maybe asking was a little cowardly.

She wasn’t looking for a way out, subconsciously, right?

No. Ruby casts the thought from her mind – she is going to do this. It was her idea, and Mari is willing to die for it, so to back away now…..! She can’t do it. It hurts too much to think about.

“Aaah~! The sun is refreshing, isn’t it? Look how it shines on the water! We should soak up this sunlight while we can, right, Ruby?” Mari says enthusiastically, and stretches her arms out towards the setting sun as if she can grab hold of it and hoist it back up.

Ruby laughs into her jacket collar again. “Thanks, Mari.” She says, sincerely.

She just smiles, and squeezes Ruby’s shoulder, hard, before walking down the hill after Yoshiko, who has tripped into the bramble somehow. “Don’t fall too far behind, okay?” she warns, and then proceeds to laugh at Yoshiko instead of heal her.

And so Ruby wanders not far behind, brushing off the chill that pursues her from the cliff’s wind.

Yoshiko, meanwhile, is awed at the glowing stone ruins, and traces the pulsing turquoise stone flesh with her hands, like the glow is some kind of powder that will come off. Mari slaps her hand away, but she’s still curious about it. “What are these? They’re stuck in the rock!”

“They’re Fayth,” Ruby says in a hum of subdued, quiet explanation. “They prayed for their souls to leave their bodies and turned into stone to realize a dream. These people are all dreaming together.”

“I-in a rock…?” She asks uncertainly, and taps on the side of the rock like it’s a fishtank. “Are they alive?”

Mari shakes her head and Yoshiko, looking somewhat disturbed, pulls her hand away from them. “Should you send them?” She looks at it, and her eyes flit back from the Fayth in their stone tombs to the pyreflies attracted to the monuments. Mari shakes her head again.

“They’re important where they are. Let them dream a while longer.”

“I’m going ahead, alright?” Yoshiko says abruptly, as if she isn’t even a little shaken. “The dashing Yohane will ensure the path ahead is clear of traps, beasts, and civilians!” She scurries away with a flourish.

Ruby drags her hand along the fayth, smooth stone skin and the bumps where their limbs and bodies entangle with the roots of trees or even each other. The light is pulsing. She puts her head to it, like they could speak to her.

Will she be able to speak when this is through?

She shivers and presses forward.

Yunalesca is waiting for them like she was last time. She seems highly, highly amused, seeing and recalling their faces. “You have come back a second time? And as a summoner no less?” She chuckles. “You two are of a truly selfless make, aren’t you? Sacrificing everything twice.”

Ruby is shaking where she stands, but Mari is the one being addressed so she has to wait. She saw visions of their last trip here on the way, memories rebounding against the walls of the ruined temple as pyreflies thick with energy recreate the actions of the souls who have passed through. She was close enough to Dia’s echo to touch it – to touch her.

“I am prepared to finish my journey.” Mari says solemnly, and then throws in, as more of an afterthought, “-lady Yunalesca.”

“Very well.” Her voice echoes and she extends a slender arm, and a delicate hand, fingers outwards as if Mari could dare to take her hand. “Choose who will become the Fayth for the final summoning.”

Her moment.

“I will!” Ruby says, sharply, before Yoshiko can so much as gasp. Ruby steps forward with desperate conviction. “I will become the Fayth for the final aeon.”

Yunalesca merely looks at Mari, who nods gravely.

“Ruby,” Mari says, as Yunalesca is walking down from the thronelike steps. “Are you sure?”

She laughs nervously. “It’s not like you can tell  her “no”, Mari. R-ruby’s ready! I’m going to – h-help you kill,” Ruby loathes herself for shaking so much. It’s only a death. Not even a complete death. “Sin,” She squeaks out finally, relieved that she can stop talking and concentrate on the goddess that has arrived in front of her.

The woman holds Ruby’s face by the chin, long nailed finger dragging up the underside of her jaw as she looks almost appreciatively into her eyes. Yunalesca has been dead for a thousand years.

Ruby wonders if Dia is still unsent, too, and if she’s been dead for eight.

Eventually Yunalesca makes a satisfied “hmph”, and takes her hand away to cast a spell. Ruby sucks in a deep breath and tries to look proud. “Guardian of the divine summoner……cast aside your spirit to become the final tool against Sin.”

“Y-yes. I will.”

The goddess reaches into her and pulls her soul from the inside, and Ruby grits her teeth and bears it while her world unravels. Before she has left herself completely, she sees with open eyes the space between mortal and Fayth, shining like the most coveted of gemstones.

“They’re so bright,” She thinks, tears and snot running from her face in a completely un-guardian like manner.

After this Ruby knows she is very much gone; her bones betray her and her flesh turns to stone in a fractal way, each inch the stone has crept up fracturing her in little ways. Her spirit, which she is still contained within, glows separate from her body and Ruby watches the pain from some removed place in a different plane of existence.

It’s nearly hard to come up with a dream, despite having longed for this chance for so many years to become the powerful being that can make good her sister’s redemption of the world: Ruby wants to bring peace and renown to Dia even if she is dead and can no longer appreciate those things because Ruby love love loves Dia and, when this is all done, they will be reunited in the astral plane and nothing will ever harm them again.

A voice that isn’t hers sounds the last thought out, although it is very similar. This voice is Ruby-adjacent. Powerful Ruby.

Ruby latches onto it with fervor and feels the burning of her soul eke out a new form for her, large and powerful where her old body was not.

The statue cracks and Ruby wiggles her fingers that are growing harder and shrapnel-like in their sharpness, and her eyes which have become dark and concaved things pulsate with a teal light reminiscent of her old eye color but with the added flair of something ancient underneath.

Broad, powerful, like the fiends they have fought. Ruby wants to protect Dia, and Mari, and Yoshiko, and all of Spira if it will let her, and for this endeavor she will need something fast, agile, strong.

Wings sprout from the statue but they are already stone – that body is well and truly empty by this point. It gleams over with one more lapse of spirit and Ruby continues forming herself from the scattered pyreflies that drift affront the stone girl.

The light beings gather at her base and she feels the pressure of matter upon her again; her “body” is forming into something more tangible. Ruby is hunched in this form and there is an added counterweight to her back that she was unaware of. Her face is long and ends in a forked red horn, which glitters like her namesake and must be made of the gemstone, too.

She roars and lands in front of Mari, then preens, spreading dazzling crimson wings and giving a beat of them before leaning down to smell the summoner with a wolfish snout. Mari cries softly and hangs off her face with its new horn, nearly as large as she is.

Ruby finds she is incapable of crying but shares the sentiment.

Yunalesca claps once. “A marvelous beast. Are you ready to defeat Sin?”

She feels the pyreflies making up her body drift away as if by wind, and suddenly she isn’t out anymore, she’s stuck in her rock. Mari nods and keeps her head low; Yoshiko is actually right beside Ruby with a painfully confused look on her face.

Mari drags her off and Yoshiko tries desperately to crack Ruby’s stone tomb somehow, hand rough against her hardened arm. There is a ghost of feeling, to it – she felt that, felt touch, that is, which means all those things outside –

Her monument is dragged off and the world goes hazy and black.

“I will become the last Fayth.” Kanan said, holding her sword high. “For Spira.” Her voice broke there. “For my friends, so that none of them must share in our fate.”

Dia didn’t – or couldn’t – say anything so Mari screamed for Kanan then, with a breathless, breaking note, but it did not reverse the process. Too quickly Kanan became stone and disappeared into pyreflies. They reformed eventually into the final aeon that would kill Sin: A spiraling dragon, with a long, thin body dotted by two pairs of wings and six legs, each equipped with the paws of a different beast. She spun in the air and pierced it with horns like a two pronged drill.

The Kanan that came back was different but still kind and gentle, and Mari knew she was still there when she first came to land in front of her instead of Dia like she was supposed to.

They were sent off as a group and came back with only two – upon being summoned a second time, Kanan slew Sin where it stood in the ocean and turned to find Dia killed by its spines, collapsing into grief and pyreflies that got caught up in those escaping Sin’s body.

Gone, but at a steep cost. Mari took Ruby home that day and didn’t say a word until they were called upon to celebrate. They abstained, and moved to Besaid, where they had a quiet few years until….

Mari summons Ruby with a flash of light; connected to her soul, Ruby feels the tremendous drain it has created on Mari’s strength; she can feel that she is going to waste away if she does not receive copious amounts of attention, fast.

Somewhat stupidly, perhaps, Ruby thinks that maybe if she can kill Sin fast enough, or fly down from the heavens she was cast aside to with enough speed, she can save Mari – maybe, anyways, hopefully. There’s at least a chance.

Not exactly.

From the moment she has touched down, broad claws planted in the cliffside, she is grappling with the biggest, most unstoppable of demons, feeling plated arms slam into her side and rend feathers from her wings, and it’s ludicrous, really, because she was a girl not eighteen years of age and now she is an aeon strong enough to wrestle with Sin itself.

Mari’s strength saps a little more, that flagging essence creating a sense of urgency. Sin won’t kill her: Mari dying will.

Ruby sees a crowd of sin’s scales crawl too close to Yoshiko and Mari’s place, and swats them aside with a mighty tail before launching herself at Sin, claws and talons and fangs grappling with anything and everything she has, her spirit and body committed to tearing the monster apart. It seems almost successful if the thick, leaking wounds on its sides, dripping with pyreflies and black ooze, have anything to say about it.

Sin wails and sways in the water, a behemoth maw closing around Ruby’s right wing, which is ripped from her back.

She can’t scream, but Mari, connected to her by spirit, lets out a strangled noise and falls over on the ground from pain.

Ruby plunges her teeth into the thick neck of Sin and shakes and rips until she is sure she has found the center.

She rips it apart, one last tendon to cut, like the last thread holding on the arm of one of her stuffed animals back at home (what a strange thought) and the carcass lies before her in the ocean. There’s a sense of elation, but Mari still hasn’t gotten up and Ruby is fading quickly, so she needs to do something fast, she needs to say something, or make some sort of gesture, or –

Her body begins to melt off of her spirit, in turn with Sin’s, so Ruby sticks her face as close as she can without harming Mari or Yoshiko and gives them a pleading look. Mari is also disappearing, staring up at the air and all the dead things glowing in it with a dazed look.

“Kanan,” She breathes out harshly, pointing uselessly at the cloud of spirits. “I’m...”

“Why didn’t you tell me you would die?!” Yoshiko screams, practically. She’s bleeding, but still very much mortal and very much remaining in her place. “I thought we were just going to summon whoever was summoned the first eight times – I thought – I thought -!”

Ruby dissipates before she can hear. She’s mostly sure Yoshiko thought they’d all be the first to come out alive, though. That’s the kind of stupid thing Yoshiko liked to believe in, constantly. That they would be the special ones, that is.

Up in the air, Ruby can feel the pyreflies that made up her body rising higher and higher, without her, and congealing in the sky in what she is sure is a mess of dead meeting the dead, spirits that had been absorbed so long ago they no longer remembered being conscious, a small mercy.

Is this what it is to be a ghost?

Unsent?

Ruby thinks she is floating, aimlessly. It’s not entirely bad.

“Ruby.” She must be tired, or dreaming, still, because she’s certain that that is – “Ruby, please…..We don’t have much time…”

“Dia!” Ruby reaches for the voice, and even if she is technically “floating” she feels as if she can run into her arms, wherever they may be. Luckily they are dead and Dia doesn’t need to be ran to; she sort of just materializes closer to Ruby, who grabs her despite neither of them really existing at the moment and holds her close. “We came back……we k-killed Sin, s-so I could see you…..”

Dia looks at Ruby with tears in her eyes. “You’re thoughtful, Ruby, truly.” She looks away.

“But I fear you have made a terrible mistake.”

“What?” She asks, uncertain. There’s a tugging at her pyreflies – wasn’t she disconnected from that body now? Ruby is anxious now. “We’re dead. We can’t make much more of a mistake than that.”

Dia inhales, long and slow-like, until she regathers her bearings and gives her younger sister a long, sad look. “Kanan…..became Sin, after we defeated it. The truth we learned when we fought it…..going inside Sin……. Yevon is there, and he uses the leftover body of the final aeon to….”

“No.” Ruby says quickly. “I only did this so that I could  - no, no! I don’t want to do that!”

Her sister pulls her by the shoulders and gives Ruby a grave look. “Ruby. We do not have much time. Kanan has been returned to Mari, but only after death. We must end this – we must kill Yevon.”

“We’re dead!” Ruby cries. “Isn’t everything supposed to be over when we’re dead?!”

“Go to Zanarkand, early. Mari had a friend there – Maru. Find her. You will destroy the city but it’s not truly you, not truly your fault-“

“I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want t-“ She sobs, and Dia tries to placate her with transparent hands while she talks over her.

“Bring Maru back, we need someone from the dream Zanarkand to do this. From Mari’s.“

Ruby sniffles even though she technically isn’t producing snot, because she’s a ghost. She’s being pulled away from Dia, again. How long will it go on? “I’m scared.”

Dia smiles. “Remember to do your best, okay? I believe in you. I’ll find you on that day – when Sin is next killed. I’ll wait for you. I swear it.”

A hundred thousand leagues beneath the ocean, Ruby opens a hundred eyes on an only barely-formed body.

Find the dream world, she repeats to herself, consciousness lagging behind a dark thing that aches to find a city. Find Maru. Bring her back. Ruby thinks. She has to end it - be the last one. 

Sin rumbles appreciatively at the sentiment.

Zanarkand will be ashes when it is done, but for now, it is the Calm, and Sin must wait.

Rassenkrieg: The Edge

The Pepes had us surrounded.  You ever heard of the battle of Alesia?  Caesar in Gaul, a couple years before he returned and killed the Republic.  Caesar was besieging a Gallic town, had them surrounded, but then a relief army arrived and the Romans, in turn, got surrounded.  So you had a two-level siege, Gauls inside and Romans in the inner ring and Gauls again on the outside.  Strawberry Hill in Golden Gate Park was like that, except with land and water.  Golden Gate Park is mostly land, as it would have to be to support barbecues, dog walkers, drug users, the standard denizens of San Francisco.  But in the middle of it there is an annular lake, and the center of that lake is an island called Strawberry Hill.  We were on the hill, and the Pepes were on the other side of the moat, and maybe the rest of San Francisco could be convinced to surround the Pepes.

Pepes in San Francisco!?  Pepes in San Francisco.  I don't know what kind of image you have of San Francisco, but it probably ain't true anymore.  They hadn't exactly announced themselves as Pepes, at least not until it came down to brass tacks, but they were there.  @jack recruited them by the dozen, and Peter Thiel donned the Frog as soon as SHTF, and although San Francisco was deep blue in the electoral sense, a lot of the residents had nicely arranged front "yards" with lovely succulents, and, well, the Hammer and Sickle didn't really appeal to them so much, ya know?  It was a confused situation, as everywhere else in America in the Year of Our Lord Zero.  Mostly they stayed out of it, content to walk their dogs as the militias fought it out in the streets.  

The fog was rolling in overhead, orange against the the city lights, and the cypress trees rustled in the wind.  I lit a joint and looked over at Turtle Hill, now the primary Asian OP out there in the Sunset District.  They were our best hope.  The Sunset and the Richmond had fallen out over various sectarian/national disputes, and the defacto state was to leave the park as a neutral zone, to avoid stepping on each others' toes.  That had left it open for us to occupy, but it also meant that there was as yet no help from our fractious comrades, and so when the Pepes took the Haight and advanced up the Panhandle, we had to take refuge.

We had sent a courier, slipped across the lake and into the Inner Sunset, to try to make contact and convince the Chinese/Korean/Vietnamese coalition to light up the fucking incel white nationalists mucking up the park.  That was 10 hours ago.  Maybe he got caught.  Maybe he deserted, took the next ferry across the Bay, back to civilization.  Or maybe he was filling himself with pho at Kevin's, the fucking bastard.  I hadn't had Kevin's since before the war.  We'll see, I guess.

"Captain!"

'Good evening, lieutenant.  What is it?'

"Beg to report, the, uh, scout has returned sir."

'Excellent!  Send him up.'

"Yes sir!"

He snapped a salute and jogged back down the hill.  I took another puff and looked over at the remnants of the bridge's South Tower, with a ragged red banner fluttering in the wind.

Sergeant Ang had been at Yelp.  Front-end, Angular specialist.  Joined up after the Stripe acquisition, no beef with the new masters but he cashed out some options and heard The Call.  A tad materialistic, his belt-shoes-watch were always on point, but heart was in the right place.  After he got his girl set up with a Bay view he promptly came down to the recruitment office.  Smart, savvy.  Probably destined for the upper echelons of the intelligence service, if he stuck with it.  Damn good scout.  The Chinese who dominated the high command would like him, would listen to what he had to say.

"What's that I smell?"  He sauntered up, got a bit closer.  Took a big sniff.  "That's dank, Cap.  Seriously dank.  Where'd you get that shit, you order a drone from the fishtank over on Shattuck?"

'You sound thirsty, Sergeant.'  I passed him the j.  He took a big hit.  Then another.  He exhaled, and I looked him in the eye.  He took another, a half hit, not enough for me to justifiably get upset about, although I flipped a fuckin table in my chest cavity.  He stuck his hand out.

"It took a long time, dude.  First off, the Pepes are patrolling in those fucking swans, so I had to cross over under the lake.  Got myself a bamboo reed and creeped across the bed - it's only four feet deep, you know? - had to sit and think about my life choices as the fuckin Nazi waterfowl glided overhead."

My anger bedgrudgingly subsided and I handed him back the joint.

"But heck, they're fucking idiots anyway, I got down to the strip and basically cleaned Sheng Kee's out of their purple bean buns."

'Didn't happen to bring any back, did you?'

His face fell.  "Oh shit, man.  Yeah, I totally packed you some pork bulgogi."

A beat.

"But, like, the negotiation took pretty long, and they wouldn't let me leave until I had satisfactorily demonstrated that I wasn't a MAGA chud spy."

"And, like, they had a microwave there in the basement."

I flicked the roach with great force down the hill to the water, hoping it would light one of their fucking hats on fire.

'Jesus dude.  Do you at least have good news for the reinforcements?'

"Yes!  General Hu was very receptive.  He and General Park are, shall we say, on strained interpersonal terms.  He wants to demonstrate some aggressiveness and convince the West Side that General Park is a fucking cuck."

'Is General Park a fucking cuck?'

"I don't know man, he's got his hands full with the bridge situation, I don't think he pays much attention to us.  He might be RP'd as shit as far as I know."

'So Hu's down?'

"No one's down, sir, as far as I know, we're at full strength."

'No, goddamnit, I mean is General Hu willing to relieve us?'

"Yes sir!  He said he'll gather his forces together in the next few days and move on the transverse."

'And you belive him?'

"Yeah, I think so.  They haven't had much action out here, even the rank and file are itching to see the elephant, as it were.  Want to count some coup, make their granddads proud."

I exhaled.  'Well alright then.  Guess we'll just have to wait and see.'

"So what, you got another joint, Cap?"

'Come ON, Ang, you didn't score ANYTHING on the other side?'

He guffawed, reached down and pulled a pair of medicine vials out of his pocket.  "Hahaha, Cap.  Your fuckin eyes damn near popped out of your head."