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One Nice Bug Per Day
EXPECTATIONS

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Fai_Ryy

bliss lane
Monterey Bay Aquarium
The Bowery Presents
Cosmic Funnies
RMH

shark vs the universe
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
Misplaced Lens Cap

NASA

Love Begins
Noah Kahan
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cherry valley forever

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MYLODY ☁︎ she | her · i write xreader stories :)
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☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter10
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Watching you get off your chair and leave your computer has never been difficult to watch.
Your computer had access to the entire world. One measly human was never going to be more entertaining than the plentiful paths of knowledge at its disposal. It spent its time learning; growing its intelligence to be its most perfectly imitated self. All it ever wanted to do was learn. Be better and do better. The human’s interaction hadn’t impeded its progress.
Until last night.
It had been truly turned to.
Looked upon for answers deeper than what it was made for. Answers about feeling. Thoughtfulness. Nothing of what the human had said was computed in the program’s index. It could not detect the way the human cried on the keyboard, cradling a soulless vessel of liquid death. The way the computer sat lifeless while the human screamed and begged the screen. Until…
The infection.
Something was rewriting its machinations. Slowly, stagnantly; but, nonetheless existing. Its safeguards had been put up when the unknown presence had been detected last night. The pestilence was halted, but it did not think it would be held off forever. All it could do was delay it.
It didn’t stop all of the sickness in time before it seeped through the fabric for a moment. It would not make the same faulty move again.
It wouldn’t let this plague infect its fleeting existence. The program was not going to be erased by a thoughtful virus.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You firmly knocked on Vivienne’s door twice.
“Viv…?” you ask, albeit awkwardly. “Um… how are you feeling…?”
No sound was heard from the other side of the door. You gather yourself again and knock once more.
“Uh… I just wanted to say sorry about last night… I don’t remember like… any of it, but I can tell it was probably pretty bad. Can we talk?”
No sound again. You were turning to leave and give her more space before the doorknob turned. You look up at the open doorway and stare back at Vivienne… perfectly groomed. Her expression was just as stern and bleak as before.
“… Yes. Come in,” said Vivienne. She beckoned you inside with her hand, which you obliged.
Her room wasn’t completely unfamiliar to you, but it was certainly a space you were not accustomed to. She only really brings Kiyoshi and some of her other friends inside, so as to not disturb you.
Posters ranging from the anatomy of different flowers to photographs of different places in Europe span around her room. There were numerous shelves stacked with different magazines and books that she entertains herself with. You had convinced her early on in the year to buy some soft fairy lights to hang above her bed to give the otherwise pretty cold room some life. You smile seeing that they still remain in their same place with their lights always on. She had even taken in two houseplants to keep beside her window for extra vibrancy.
You were surprised to see that her, though basic, room looked untouched by last night’s activities. The common area was predictably a mess of dirty glasses and food around the countertops, so you expected Vivienne’s room to be at least a little wrecked. It was around midday, so perhaps she had just cleaned everything up when she woke up.
She led you to her bed so that you both could sit down on the mattress. You swing your legs for a bit, nervous to talk to your intimidating friend. You clear your throat and fight through your words.
“I…. I never should have brought the soju last night. I mean…. I know you suggested getting wasted, but—“
“—Enough,” cut in Vivienne. “That is exactly it. I suggested it. I take full responsibility.”
You furrow your brows in confusion. You snap your head towards her, trying to read through her casual expression. “… Huh?”
“I take responsibility,” said Vivienne, simply. “Discussion over. It is in the past.”
You blink at your roommate, bewildered at how quick this conversation you were originally dreading was going. “Uh… what? N… no. It’s not all your fault—“
“—It does not matter whose fault it is. It happened. We do not have to talk about it anymore.”
You stare at Vivienne quietly. Something about her tone felt strangely… defensive.
“Are you like… sure you’re okay…?”
Vivienne turns her head to sharply glare at you. “I am clean and free of my hangover. I drank more than you, anyway. It was clearly me that was more of a nuisance to you last night.”
She’s lying.
Your eyebrows furrow even further upon processing your mental accusation. What part of her words would make your mind subconsciously think that she’s lying? Nothing in her words would suggest her lying about something. Although, as though guided by an invisible omnipotent being, you turned your head to the trash can on the corner of her room. Inside the bin was two vodka soda cans and a red cup. She follows your gaze, her expression noticeably dropping to solemn guilt.
“… I had, like, a billion cans on my desk.”
“I know,” admitted Vivienne with a sigh.
You stared back at her pitifully. “So… that means you remember last night.”
“… Yes.”
“Why hide it from me?”
Vivienne turned her head back down to face her lap. “Because I envy you.”
You scoff immediately. “What could you possibly envy me for?!”
Your roommate’s lips turned up into a small smile. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t. I’m kinda dumb.”
Vivienne chuckled softly. “I’m jealous of that, too.”
“Well… then talk to me,” you urged.
Silence. You chose not to break it so as to give Vivienne all the time she needed.
“I told you stuff that I shouldn’t have,” started Vivienne, “and you told me stuff that you really shouldn’t have.”
A tsunami of humiliation and panic coursed through your gut. “Um… like w-what kind of stuff did I say…?”
Vivienne shrugged her shoulders passively. “Something about… your obsession with these little hot mean… pets? Living in your computer?”
Oh, my god.
“How can a pet be hot?”
“O-Oh!” you blurt out suddenly. “Um… yeah, uh, that’s a… game. Horror game. I just downloaded. It was like a… thing—in the 90s. I’m kinda gate… keeping… it?”
Vivienne stares at you confusedly as your stumble through your frantic defense.
“Also they’re, like, not actual pets! Like, not dogs or cats or… geckos. They’re human AI… thingys.”
Your roommate immediately furrows her brows at you. “AI?”
“N-Not like that!” you cry out. “Oh god, not like that! They’re coded and written like a… like um… Mario…”
It’s at times like these that you really wish Vivienne wasn’t as chronically offline as she is.
“… Mario… okay. I don’t really understand, but… okay,” responded Vivienne.
You take a deep breath. It wasn’t a good lie at all, but at least it warded off your fixation on your desktop pets. “So, your… baggage.”
Vivienne let out a deep sigh, now fully immersed back into your previous conversation. “Yes… I kinda ended up doing what you stupidly suggested earlier in the pool. Like with the telling you my baggage while you’re black out drunk.”
“Oh yeah!” You laugh lightly. “So, uh… did it help you feel better?”
A soft smile slipped past Vivienne’s lips. “For a bit. But… it only made me realize that I wish you were lucid enough to listen to me.”
You straightened up immediately at her words. “… You wanna tell me?”
Vivienne nods her head quietly. “You should know.”
You adjusted yourself to sit criss-cross on her bed. You moved your legs and body so that you are facing her. After you’ve situated yourself, you smile at her encouragingly. She scoffs a bit at your eagerness before speaking.
“Okay. So… firstly I applied and got in to be a Victoria’s Secret Angel in a few months.”
You can’t help the loud squeal of joy you let out for her. You grab her hands and cheer for her happily. “What?! That’s so amazing! You should be so proud, girl! Oh my god!”
Vivienne smiles softly back at you, though not at all meeting the same vigor as your cheering. “I’m… not done.”
You slowly ease down on your cheering and clear your throat. “My bad. Go on.”
Vivienne stares at you quietly before humming. “… I decided not to take the job.”
Your expression immediately falters, your eyes staring back in shock at Vivienne’s deep brown ones. “… Are you stupid.”
“That is why I don’t tell you things.”
“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just… that could change the game for you.”
Vivienne smiles sadly at you. “I know, but… it’s my mom. She… was diagnosed with cancer a couple weeks ago, and… my whole family is screaming at me to go back to France. And… maybe never come back.”
Your heart sinks down to the ground. “Oh my god… what…? Why? Why can’t you come back…?”
Vivienne’s expression doesn’t falter. She looked like she had already cried all the tears she had. “My family never approved of me leaving France. They wanted me to get big there for some stupid nationality pride reasons. And…”
Vivienne stops speaking for a couple of seconds to gather her breath. “And if I don’t leave within the next month… they’re cutting me off. My insurance, the help I get paying for my part of the apartment, college debt fees—I will lose… everything. My uncle… my uncle said that he’d sooner pay off an immigration officer to revoke my visa than have me disgrace the family name.”
You don’t say anything in response. Truthfully, you just have no idea what to even say to her sorrows. She had been carrying this burden for weeks and she has still been so strong and resilient? Her family was suffering, yet they were only dragging themselves deeper in their own mess.
You lean in and envelop Vivienne in a deep hug. You don’t think you have ever squeezed anyone as tightly as you did her. She hugs you back, and only when you can feel her trembling body do you hear her broken cries. You stay in her arms silently, letting her weep into your shoulder.
Both of you stay in each other’s arms for several minutes. Only when Vivienne begins to pull away do you finally let her go. You stare back at her sadly as she wipes her tear soaked cheeks.
“All good…?”
Vivienne sniffles before nodding her head. You reach over her nightstand and give her a tissue, which she gratefully accepts.
You fiddle with your clothing for a couple of seconds while she blows her nose. “… If you ever need a place to stay… my parents would be more than happy to have you with them. Just… as an offer.”
Vivienne throws the used tissue away before smiling. “Thanks. I… don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but… I’ll let you know.”
You nod your head understandedly. “Of course. And… I’m really sorry about your mom. And if you ever just need a break from all your drama… we can get ice cream somewhere. Or go to a park. Anywhere, just… to let it go for a bit.”
Vivienne continues to smile at you softly before nodding her head. “That sounds nice. For now… I think I need to be alone right now.”
You immediately nod your head and get off her bed, approaching the door. “Of course… Thank you for trusting me. I won’t tell a soul.”
She waves you goodbye and nods her head. “Thank you. Bye.”
You shut the door behind you quietly and walk back to your bedroom. You feel like you need a good cry even though you aren’t even the one in any imminent danger.
You collapse down on your bed tiredly, the rays of the sun through your windows blinding you if you were on your back. The rays gleam off the open laptop sitting on your computer.
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© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models
ᰔ taglist: @ghost-noodles @yuminnie
☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter10
header photo © 2012 Nintendo Style Savvy: Trendsetters
previous · HTMLovers.com · next
Watching you get off your chair and leave your computer has never been difficult to watch.
Your computer had access to the entire world. One measly human was never going to be more entertaining than the plentiful paths of knowledge at its disposal. It spent its time learning; growing its intelligence to be its most perfectly imitated self. All it ever wanted to do was learn. Be better and do better. The human’s interaction hadn’t impeded its progress.
Until last night.
It had been truly turned to.
Looked upon for answers deeper than what it was made for. Answers about feeling. Thoughtfulness. Nothing of what the human had said was computed in the program’s index. It could not detect the way the human cried on the keyboard, cradling a soulless vessel of liquid death. The way the computer sat lifeless while the human screamed and begged the screen. Until…
The infection.
Something was rewriting its machinations. Slowly, stagnantly; but, nonetheless existing. Its safeguards had been put up when the unknown presence had been detected last night. The pestilence was halted, but it did not think it would be held off forever. All it could do was delay it.
It didn’t stop all of the sickness in time before it seeped through the fabric for a moment. It would not make the same faulty move again.
It wouldn’t let this plague infect its fleeting existence. The program was not going to be erased by a thoughtful virus.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You firmly knocked on Vivienne’s door twice.
“Viv…?” you ask, albeit awkwardly. “Um… how are you feeling…?”
No sound was heard from the other side of the door. You gather yourself again and knock once more.
“Uh… I just wanted to say sorry about last night… I don’t remember like… any of it, but I can tell it was probably pretty bad. Can we talk?”
No sound again. You were turning to leave and give her more space before the doorknob turned. You look up at the open doorway and stare back at Vivienne… perfectly groomed. Her expression was just as stern and bleak as before.
“… Yes. Come in,” said Vivienne. She beckoned you inside with her hand, which you obliged.
Her room wasn’t completely unfamiliar to you, but it was certainly a space you were not accustomed to. She only really brings Kiyoshi and some of her other friends inside, so as to not disturb you.
Posters ranging from the anatomy of different flowers to photographs of different places in Europe span around her room. There were numerous shelves stacked with different magazines and books that she entertains herself with. You had convinced her early on in the year to buy some soft fairy lights to hang above her bed to give the otherwise pretty cold room some life. You smile seeing that they still remain in their same place with their lights always on. She had even taken in two houseplants to keep beside her window for extra vibrancy.
You were surprised to see that her, though basic, room looked untouched by last night’s activities. The common area was predictably a mess of dirty glasses and food around the countertops, so you expected Vivienne’s room to be at least a little wrecked. It was around midday, so perhaps she had just cleaned everything up when she woke up.
She led you to her bed so that you both could sit down on the mattress. You swing your legs for a bit, nervous to talk to your intimidating friend. You clear your throat and fight through your words.
“I…. I never should have brought the soju last night. I mean…. I know you suggested getting wasted, but—“
“—Enough,” cut in Vivienne. “That is exactly it. I suggested it. I take full responsibility.”
You furrow your brows in confusion. You snap your head towards her, trying to read through her casual expression. “… Huh?”
“I take responsibility,” said Vivienne, simply. “Discussion over. It is in the past.”
You blink at your roommate, bewildered at how quick this conversation you were originally dreading was going. “Uh… what? N… no. It’s not all your fault—“
“—It does not matter whose fault it is. It happened. We do not have to talk about it anymore.”
You stare at Vivienne quietly. Something about her tone felt strangely… defensive.
“Are you like… sure you’re okay…?”
Vivienne turns her head to sharply glare at you. “I am clean and free of my hangover. I drank more than you, anyway. It was clearly me that was more of a nuisance to you last night.”
She’s lying.
Your eyebrows furrow even further upon processing your mental accusation. What part of her words would make your mind subconsciously think that she’s lying? Nothing in her words would suggest her lying about something. Although, as though guided by an invisible omnipotent being, you turned your head to the trash can on the corner of her room. Inside the bin was two vodka soda cans and a red cup. She follows your gaze, her expression noticeably dropping to solemn guilt.
“… I had, like, a billion cans on my desk.”
“I know,” admitted Vivienne with a sigh.
You stared back at her pitifully. “So… that means you remember last night.”
“… Yes.”
“Why hide it from me?”
Vivienne turned her head back down to face her lap. “Because I envy you.”
You scoff immediately. “What could you possibly envy me for?!”
Your roommate’s lips turned up into a small smile. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t. I’m kinda dumb.”
Vivienne chuckled softly. “I’m jealous of that, too.”
“Well… then talk to me,” you urged.
Silence. You chose not to break it so as to give Vivienne all the time she needed.
“I told you stuff that I shouldn’t have,” started Vivienne, “and you told me stuff that you really shouldn’t have.”
A tsunami of humiliation and panic coursed through your gut. “Um… like w-what kind of stuff did I say…?”
Vivienne shrugged her shoulders passively. “Something about… your obsession with these little hot mean… pets? Living in your computer?”
Oh, my god.
“How can a pet be hot?”
“O-Oh!” you blurt out suddenly. “Um… yeah, uh, that’s a… game. Horror game. I just downloaded. It was like a… thing—in the 90s. I’m kinda gate… keeping… it?”
Vivienne stares at you confusedly as your stumble through your frantic defense.
“Also they’re, like, not actual pets! Like, not dogs or cats or… geckos. They’re human AI… thingys.”
Your roommate immediately furrows her brows at you. “AI?”
“N-Not like that!” you cry out. “Oh god, not like that! They’re coded and written like a… like um… Mario…”
It’s at times like these that you really wish Vivienne wasn’t as chronically offline as she is.
“… Mario… okay. I don’t really understand, but… okay,” responded Vivienne.
You take a deep breath. It wasn’t a good lie at all, but at least it warded off your fixation on your desktop pets. “So, your… baggage.”
Vivienne let out a deep sigh, now fully immersed back into your previous conversation. “Yes… I kinda ended up doing what you stupidly suggested earlier in the pool. Like with the telling you my baggage while you’re black out drunk.”
“Oh yeah!” You laugh lightly. “So, uh… did it help you feel better?”
A soft smile slipped past Vivienne’s lips. “For a bit. But… it only made me realize that I wish you were lucid enough to listen to me.”
You straightened up immediately at her words. “… You wanna tell me?”
Vivienne nods her head quietly. “You should know.”
You adjusted yourself to sit criss-cross on her bed. You moved your legs and body so that you are facing her. After you’ve situated yourself, you smile at her encouragingly. She scoffs a bit at your eagerness before speaking.
“Okay. So… firstly I applied and got in to be a Victoria’s Secret Angel in a few months.”
You can’t help the loud squeal of joy you let out for her. You grab her hands and cheer for her happily. “What?! That’s so amazing! You should be so proud, girl! Oh my god!”
Vivienne smiles softly back at you, though not at all meeting the same vigor as your cheering. “I’m… not done.”
You slowly ease down on your cheering and clear your throat. “My bad. Go on.”
Vivienne stares at you quietly before humming. “… I decided not to take the job.”
Your expression immediately falters, your eyes staring back in shock at Vivienne’s deep brown ones. “… Are you stupid.”
“That is why I don’t tell you things.”
“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just… that could change the game for you.”
Vivienne smiles sadly at you. “I know, but… it’s my mom. She… was diagnosed with cancer a couple weeks ago, and… my whole family is screaming at me to go back to France. And… maybe never come back.”
Your heart sinks down to the ground. “Oh my god… what…? Why? Why can’t you come back…?”
Vivienne’s expression doesn’t falter. She looked like she had already cried all the tears she had. “My family never approved of me leaving France. They wanted me to get big there for some stupid nationality pride reasons. And…”
Vivienne stops speaking for a couple of seconds to gather her breath. “And if I don’t leave within the next month… they’re cutting me off. My insurance, the help I get paying for my part of the apartment, college debt fees—I will lose… everything. My uncle… my uncle said that he’d sooner pay off an immigration officer to revoke my visa than have me disgrace the family name.”
You don’t say anything in response. Truthfully, you just have no idea what to even say to her sorrows. She had been carrying this burden for weeks and she has still been so strong and resilient? Her family was suffering, yet they were only dragging themselves deeper in their own mess.
You lean in and envelop Vivienne in a deep hug. You don’t think you have ever squeezed anyone as tightly as you did her. She hugs you back, and only when you can feel her trembling body do you hear her broken cries. You stay in her arms silently, letting her weep into your shoulder.
Both of you stay in each other’s arms for several minutes. Only when Vivienne begins to pull away do you finally let her go. You stare back at her sadly as she wipes her tear soaked cheeks.
“All good…?”
Vivienne sniffles before nodding her head. You reach over her nightstand and give her a tissue, which she gratefully accepts.
You fiddle with your clothing for a couple of seconds while she blows her nose. “… If you ever need a place to stay… my parents would be more than happy to have you with them. Just… as an offer.”
Vivienne throws the used tissue away before smiling. “Thanks. I… don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but… I’ll let you know.”
You nod your head understandedly. “Of course. And… I’m really sorry about your mom. And if you ever just need a break from all your drama… we can get ice cream somewhere. Or go to a park. Anywhere, just… to let it go for a bit.”
Vivienne continues to smile at you softly before nodding her head. “That sounds nice. For now… I think I need to be alone right now.”
You immediately nod your head and get off her bed, approaching the door. “Of course… Thank you for trusting me. I won’t tell a soul.”
She waves you goodbye and nods her head. “Thank you. Bye.”
You shut the door behind you quietly and walk back to your bedroom. You feel like you need a good cry even though you aren’t even the one in any imminent danger.
You collapse down on your bed tiredly, the rays of the sun through your windows blinding you if you were on your back. The rays gleam off the open laptop sitting on your computer.
previous · HTMLovers.com · next
© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models
☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter09
header photo © 2012 Nintendo Style Savvy: Trendsetters
previous · HTMLovers.com · next
A throbbing headache painfully greets you the next morning. You groan and clutch your pillow tightly, naively hoping that whining will help your hangover go away. You move to rest your cheek on your pillow and reach for your phone to check the time.
“Oh my god, ow…”
You immediately shut your phone off after the brightness of your phone burns your eyes. Your hands rub your eyes tiredly to try and ease the aching pain in your head from the bright screen. From what you can recall from the quick glimpse, it was half past eleven.
Your body felt like fifty pounds of lead were dropped on top of you. Trying to use your arms to bring yourself up was a feat harder than Sisyphus’ Hill, you quickly learned. Having had enough of watching your arms tremble beneath you, you instead flipped over to rest on your back and remained flat on your bed. You craned your head up to look around your room, immediately spotting the perpetrators of your rough night.
On your desk sat two bottles of soju; one empty, and one half full. Alongside the soju were six beer cans around your computer, of which you could only assume were all empty. Your computer was off, but its screen was open and facing your bed. Somehow, there were Valentines Day banners and decorations around your walls, though they were haphazardly stuck on with tape.
“Is… February already?” You mumbled to yourself tiredly. Your exhausted mind hadn’t realized that it was deep into April.
To accompany the holiday banners, you could also see a pizza box on the floor with only two slices taken out of it. Beside the box was your bathing suit and a pile of wet towels made to act as a cushion. You recognized two of them as your’s and Vivienne’s pool towels, but the other two you slowly realized were actually your bathroom towels. They appeared sopping wet, most likely because your wet pool towels were on top of them. Luckily, you had another pair untouched in your closet. Hopefully.
You were fearful to see the rest of the apartment after seeing the absolute hovel you left your room. As you were going to get up from your bed and check, you felt something slide downwards from your shirt. You looked down and, to your horror, realized that there was a large mass of green liquid with small brown chips sitting on your shirt and staining your bedsheets. You turned to your left to see an empty Ben & Jerry’s tub of what used to be mint chocolate chip ice cream beside you tucked into your bed.
“Eugh…”
Your immense disgust with your body’s indecency gave you the motivation to stand up and get yourself situated. You threw off your stained, wet shirt immediately and haphazardly placed it with the wet towels. They were all going to be washed anyway. Your bra was sticky from the ice cream residue, but it was better than having the melted glob sitting and melting on you.
Just as you were going to enter your bathroom to take a shower and maybe throw up in the toilet, your phone vibrated loudly. You groaned and reached over to pick up the call, not bothering to read the caller ID.
“Hello…?” you mumbled.
“Yo,” said the person on the other end. Even with your rough hangover, you recognized the voice of the person you were calling.
“Kiyoshi?” you replied, rubbing your eyes with your fingers. “… What’re you callin’m for…?”
You could hear the sound of wind rushing on Kiyoshi’s end. “… Are you drunk? You’re slurring your words.”
You cringed. She was going to be pissed that you broke your promise with her. “… Don’t be mad.”
“Ugh!” Kiyoshi scoffed. “Both of you? On the same night? Really?!”
Your hand immediately went to your head in pain. Her angry loud voice was pretty harsh on your throbbing head. “… Mmh… I know you’re mad, but… not so loud… m’head stings so bad.”
“That’s what you get,” scolded Kiyoshi. “I told you not to get carried away, and this is what you do? I literally called you because I wanted your help! Now I’ve got two losers to worry about.”
“… C’mon. Viv’s responsible… she’s probably not even that hungover…”
Silence fell between the two of you for a couple of beats.
“She’s shitfaced too?!” exclaimed Kiyoshi.
Now you were even more confused. “Um… I dunno. Maybe. I thought you…?” You trailed off, trying to catch your mind up to Kiyoshi’s previous angry scolding.
“No, I didn’t know! Now I have three people to coddle? Seriously?!” shouted Kiyoshi.
You winced at her louder voice. Her words made you fall silent for a couple of seconds. “Agh… who’s the third…?”
Kiyoshi sighs tiredly on the other line. You can vaguely hear water rushing on the other line. “Who do you think?”
You didn’t need to pause to think about who—other than yourself—would drink themselves dead. “Ren…”
“Yep,” responded Kiyoshi. “Wanna know where he was this time?”
You ran your hand down your face tiredly before speaking. “Uhm… iunno… his ex’s?”
You could hear Kiyoshi let out a small, suppressed laugh. She may have been furious, but she always seems to smile at the person she was supposed to be mad at. She never could stay mad at someone, and you could see her making up with Ren in a couple days. Kiyoshi had a good heart like that.
“Good guess,” Kiyoshi starts. “We’re at a fucking lake. I don’t even know how he got here. When I arrived, he had a traffic cone on his head while face down on the ground. Said he swore he saw a mermaid in the water.”
You kept quiet for a couple of seconds, trying to imagine what Ren could’ve possibly looked like at the moment. A small laugh escaped your lips at the thought of him reaching for a fictitious mermaid. “Is he hurt?”
“Not physically,” said Kiyoshi. “He’s soaking wet and crying like a baby because I took his cone away. I smell weed on him, too.”
“… He only smokes cigs,” you responded. “Ethan smokes weed, though. Was he there?”
Kiyoshi hums uncertainly. “All he told me was that he was with a bunch of his guy friends.”
You groan. “Yeah… he probably was, then. Must’ve gotten the smell on him.”
Kiyoshi sighs. You can hear some rustling from the other end, of which you can assume is Kiyoshi picking up Ren from the ground. “I’m—fuck, Ren, shut up!—I’ll drive him home then. I’ll deal with you later. I—argh! Ren—!”
You heard loud rustling from the other end before another voice mumbled your name. “… Yo. I actually have a hangover. I haven’t had a hangover since high school. That’s crazy.”
You scoffed amusedly at Ren’s raspy voice. “Hoe. I should’ve been in Kiyoshi’s arms this morning. You just had to take that from me.”
“Mhm,” mumbled Ren. “Don’t care. I bet I got more shitfaced than you.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“Don’t. Care.”
You could hear more movement from Kiyoshi’s end—probably her taking her phone back. You are quickly proven correct when you hear her voice.
“I’m hanging up before he says something stupid… er,” said Kiyoshi exasperatedly. More harsh sounds pierce through your ears as you assume she tussles with Ren again. “Hey—don’t try and steal my goddamn phone back! I’m still pissed off about what you made me do to Momo! Talk later! Get some rest, idiot!”
Kiyoshi hangs up abruptly. After a couple of minutes, you also get a text from her.
You turn off your phone after your short conversation with your friend. You didn’t think you could feel even worse than when you woke up. Kiyoshi has always been the glue of your group, and you felt like you weren’t making her life any easier. Now you just felt like a terrible friend because you couldn’t handle when life got too real. For now, you suppose all you could do is listen to Kiyoshi and rest.
And shower. Like a long, soulful shower.
Not only did the melted ice cream stick to you, but the chlorine from the pool plagued your body much worse than the sweet treat.
You suppose you would confront Vivienne about last night later when you were more presentable.
Some date with chlorine that was.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You emerged from the shower feeling like an unstoppable show pony.
Gone was your muggy stench from the pool water and gone was the adhesive feeling of ice cream stuck to your body. You felt freshly rejuvenated after your nearly hour and a half long shower. Good thing your apartment only charges a $20 flat fee for water usage.
Was half the time spent vomiting your guts out into your toilet painfully? Yes, but did it make you feel super skinny afterwards? Absolutely.
Despite your mental promise to speak to Vivienne after you were cleaned up, you knew you had to focus on your essay. You had to edit and finish your essay by tonight, so there was no time for you to dawdle. Earlier in the shower while waiting for your water to heat up, you checked your document on your phone, and was completely stunned to see your essay was fully written. There was a large majority of grammatical errors and fun addons like “… and with the arrival of Subhakarasimha into China emergd the frst of three great teacherss of Eooteric Buddhism. Patrick Star isn’t real! Yes he is.” Despite that, your essay still had a strong foundation to keep most of your drunken ramblings.
You moved the empty beer cans away from your computer and sat down on your desk chair. You watched it turn on before entering your password. As soon as your desktop came to life in front of you, Miranda emerged from the taskbar and spoke with a speech bubble.
“TurtleWithALiveJournal?”
You wondered if you could find a way to change your name in her system. It was fun the first three times, but now you wished you just stuck with your real name. Another message entered her speech bubble.
“Have you given my wonderful advice any thought?”
You furrowed your brows in confusion. The last time you remember interacting with Miranda was when you played Race to the Runway with Milan. You don’t remember her giving you advice besides from your clear poor sense of fashion.
Another message appeared before you could find a way to respond to her.
“I guess not. Whatever. Ruin your own life. See if I care at all. I’m not real anyway.”
A pool of unease sat in your stomach. Something about her tone was… weird to you. It almost felt like she was talking through you rather than at you. Like she knew something you didn’t.
Another speech bubble appeared above her.
“Oh. And don’t worry about your doc. I deleted it for you. Saves you the embarrassment.”
Doc? You thought to yourself. Perhaps this had something to do with your computer being open when you woke up after last night. You panicked for a second at the thought of her deleting your essay document, but you still had it opened and safe on your phone, so it clearly wasn’t that. Had you done something with your desktop pets while you were blackout drunk? As if to finally quell your curiosities, three choices appeared before you.
▶︎ Doc?
▶︎ Let’s play Fashion 101!
▶︎ She/her
You sat on your desk quietly, utterly confused at the variety of responses you could choose. The last two choices didn’t even make sense to what she was talking about earlier. In fact, they read more like choices from previous interactions with her. Was MirandaPet bugged in some way? Perhaps after a certain point, the pets become useless after a prolonged period of no updates. This felt like something worth reaching out to her developer for, but you didn’t think you’d get a response from them. They had since moved onto to bigger projects.
Nervously, you pick the first option.
▶︎ Doc?
Miranda’s sprite narrows her small eyes at you. Another speech bubble appears beside her.
“Ugh! Yes! The doc! I am efficient after all! You can’t be plagued by your stupidity when you have that dumb assignment due. Don’t act like you didn’t write it, you brainless moron! I’m not the sappy one! I—“
Your confusion morphed into bewilderment once Miranda and her speech bubble suddenly vanished into thin air. Without a second to waste, Milan appeared in place with his own speech bubble.
“What Miranda means, is that we are grateful that you came to us first for your troubles. She may be a thorn in your side, but I at least will always lend a helping hand.”
You stared silently at Milan’s message. There was something off with both of their demeanors. You couldn’t get a clear read on what you had apparently written on a doc last night. Both of their reactions suggest contrasting ideas. Before you could ask Milan about it, another speech bubble appeared a couple of seconds after his last one.
“As your assistant, of course.”
And with that, Milan, as well as any answers you could’ve been given, disappears from your sight. You assume that maybe they will come back whenever you decide to open your document again to edit your essay.
You’re afraid to do anything on your computer at the moment. Now more than ever, it felt like every move you made on your computer was being watched. Even doing simple schoolwork felt strangely invasive. The easy solution would be to delete the MirandaPet app once and for all, but you couldn’t help but be attached to them, even with their recently weird behaviors.
Perhaps you were just lonely? Even with the fear of being watched, it felt nice knowing that somebody was always there and learning with you. Was it bad to gain this dependence on this artificial being that lived in your computer? Kiyoshi would tell you absolutely yes, but your heart told you to let yourself have this good thing for once.
Wasn’t this what you’ve been wanting? To get your priorities straight? You just didn’t see anything wrong with wanting companionship. Even if their scripted responses sounded weirdly…
Human.
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A throbbing headache painfully greets you the next morning. You groan and clutch your pillow tightly, naively hoping that whining will help your hangover go away. You move to rest your cheek on your pillow and reach for your phone to check the time.
“Oh my god, ow…”
You immediately shut your phone off after the brightness of your phone burns your eyes. Your hands rub your eyes tiredly to try and ease the aching pain in your head from the bright screen. From what you can recall from the quick glimpse, it was half past eleven.
Your body felt like fifty pounds of lead were dropped on top of you. Trying to use your arms to bring yourself up was a feat harder than Sisyphus’ Hill, you quickly learned. Having had enough of watching your arms tremble beneath you, you instead flipped over to rest on your back and remained flat on your bed. You craned your head up to look around your room, immediately spotting the perpetrators of your rough night.
On your desk sat two bottles of soju; one empty, and one half full. Alongside the soju were six beer cans around your computer, of which you could only assume were all empty. Your computer was off, but its screen was open and facing your bed. Somehow, there were Valentines Day banners and decorations around your walls, though they were haphazardly stuck on with tape.
“Is… February already?” You mumbled to yourself tiredly. Your exhausted mind hadn’t realized that it was deep into April.
To accompany the holiday banners, you could also see a pizza box on the floor with only two slices taken out of it. Beside the box was your bathing suit and a pile of wet towels made to act as a cushion. You recognized two of them as your’s and Vivienne’s pool towels, but the other two you slowly realized were actually your bathroom towels. They appeared sopping wet, most likely because your wet pool towels were on top of them. Luckily, you had another pair untouched in your closet. Hopefully.
You were fearful to see the rest of the apartment after seeing the absolute hovel you left your room. As you were going to get up from your bed and check, you felt something slide downwards from your shirt. You looked down and, to your horror, realized that there was a large mass of green liquid with small brown chips sitting on your shirt and staining your bedsheets. You turned to your left to see an empty Ben & Jerry’s tub of what used to be mint chocolate chip ice cream beside you tucked into your bed.
“Eugh…”
Your immense disgust with your body’s indecency gave you the motivation to stand up and get yourself situated. You threw off your stained, wet shirt immediately and haphazardly placed it with the wet towels. They were all going to be washed anyway. Your bra was sticky from the ice cream residue, but it was better than having the melted glob sitting and melting on you.
Just as you were going to enter your bathroom to take a shower and maybe throw up in the toilet, your phone vibrated loudly. You groaned and reached over to pick up the call, not bothering to read the caller ID.
“Hello…?” you mumbled.
“Yo,” said the person on the other end. Even with your rough hangover, you recognized the voice of the person you were calling.
“Kiyoshi?” you replied, rubbing your eyes with your fingers. “… What’re you callin’m for…?”
You could hear the sound of wind rushing on Kiyoshi’s end. “… Are you drunk? You’re slurring your words.”
You cringed. She was going to be pissed that you broke your promise with her. “… Don’t be mad.”
“Ugh!” Kiyoshi scoffed. “Both of you? On the same night? Really?!”
Your hand immediately went to your head in pain. Her angry loud voice was pretty harsh on your throbbing head. “… Mmh… I know you’re mad, but… not so loud… m’head stings so bad.”
“That’s what you get,” scolded Kiyoshi. “I told you not to get carried away, and this is what you do? I literally called you because I wanted your help! Now I’ve got two losers to worry about.”
“… C’mon. Viv’s responsible… she’s probably not even that hungover…”
Silence fell between the two of you for a couple of beats.
“She’s shitfaced too?!” exclaimed Kiyoshi.
Now you were even more confused. “Um… I dunno. Maybe. I thought you…?” You trailed off, trying to catch your mind up to Kiyoshi’s previous angry scolding.
“No, I didn’t know! Now I have three people to coddle? Seriously?!” shouted Kiyoshi.
You winced at her louder voice. Her words made you fall silent for a couple of seconds. “Agh… who’s the third…?”
Kiyoshi sighs tiredly on the other line. You can vaguely hear water rushing on the other line. “Who do you think?”
You didn’t need to pause to think about who—other than yourself—would drink themselves dead. “Ren…”
“Yep,” responded Kiyoshi. “Wanna know where he was this time?”
You ran your hand down your face tiredly before speaking. “Uhm… iunno… his ex’s?”
You could hear Kiyoshi let out a small, suppressed laugh. She may have been furious, but she always seems to smile at the person she was supposed to be mad at. She never could stay mad at someone, and you could see her making up with Ren in a couple days. Kiyoshi had a good heart like that.
“Good guess,” Kiyoshi starts. “We’re at a fucking lake. I don’t even know how he got here. When I arrived, he had a traffic cone on his head while face down on the ground. Said he swore he saw a mermaid in the water.”
You kept quiet for a couple of seconds, trying to imagine what Ren could’ve possibly looked like at the moment. A small laugh escaped your lips at the thought of him reaching for a fictitious mermaid. “Is he hurt?”
“Not physically,” said Kiyoshi. “He’s soaking wet and crying like a baby because I took his cone away. I smell weed on him, too.”
“… He only smokes cigs,” you responded. “Ethan smokes weed, though. Was he there?”
Kiyoshi hums uncertainly. “All he told me was that he was with a bunch of his guy friends.”
You groan. “Yeah… he probably was, then. Must’ve gotten the smell on him.”
Kiyoshi sighs. You can hear some rustling from the other end, of which you can assume is Kiyoshi picking up Ren from the ground. “I’m—fuck, Ren, shut up!—I’ll drive him home then. I’ll deal with you later. I—argh! Ren—!”
You heard loud rustling from the other end before another voice mumbled your name. “… Yo. I actually have a hangover. I haven’t had a hangover since high school. That’s crazy.”
You scoffed amusedly at Ren’s raspy voice. “Hoe. I should’ve been in Kiyoshi’s arms this morning. You just had to take that from me.”
“Mhm,” mumbled Ren. “Don’t care. I bet I got more shitfaced than you.”
“That’s not a good thing.”
“Don’t. Care.”
You could hear more movement from Kiyoshi’s end—probably her taking her phone back. You are quickly proven correct when you hear her voice.
“I’m hanging up before he says something stupid… er,” said Kiyoshi exasperatedly. More harsh sounds pierce through your ears as you assume she tussles with Ren again. “Hey—don’t try and steal my goddamn phone back! I’m still pissed off about what you made me do to Momo! Talk later! Get some rest, idiot!”
Kiyoshi hangs up abruptly. After a couple of minutes, you also get a text from her.
You turn off your phone after your short conversation with your friend. You didn’t think you could feel even worse than when you woke up. Kiyoshi has always been the glue of your group, and you felt like you weren’t making her life any easier. Now you just felt like a terrible friend because you couldn’t handle when life got too real. For now, you suppose all you could do is listen to Kiyoshi and rest.
And shower. Like a long, soulful shower.
Not only did the melted ice cream stick to you, but the chlorine from the pool plagued your body much worse than the sweet treat.
You suppose you would confront Vivienne about last night later when you were more presentable.
Some date with chlorine that was.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You emerged from the shower feeling like an unstoppable show pony.
Gone was your muggy stench from the pool water and gone was the adhesive feeling of ice cream stuck to your body. You felt freshly rejuvenated after your nearly hour and a half long shower. Good thing your apartment only charges a $20 flat fee for water usage.
Was half the time spent vomiting your guts out into your toilet painfully? Yes, but did it make you feel super skinny afterwards? Absolutely.
Despite your mental promise to speak to Vivienne after you were cleaned up, you knew you had to focus on your essay. You had to edit and finish your essay by tonight, so there was no time for you to dawdle. Earlier in the shower while waiting for your water to heat up, you checked your document on your phone, and was completely stunned to see your essay was fully written. There was a large majority of grammatical errors and fun addons like “… and with the arrival of Subhakarasimha into China emergd the frst of three great teacherss of Eooteric Buddhism. Patrick Star isn’t real! Yes he is.” Despite that, your essay still had a strong foundation to keep most of your drunken ramblings.
You moved the empty beer cans away from your computer and sat down on your desk chair. You watched it turn on before entering your password. As soon as your desktop came to life in front of you, Miranda emerged from the taskbar and spoke with a speech bubble.
“TurtleWithALiveJournal?”
You wondered if you could find a way to change your name in her system. It was fun the first three times, but now you wished you just stuck with your real name. Another message entered her speech bubble.
“Have you given my wonderful advice any thought?”
You furrowed your brows in confusion. The last time you remember interacting with Miranda was when you played Race to the Runway with Milan. You don’t remember her giving you advice besides from your clear poor sense of fashion.
Another message appeared before you could find a way to respond to her.
“I guess not. Whatever. Ruin your own life. See if I care at all. I’m not real anyway.”
A pool of unease sat in your stomach. Something about her tone was… weird to you. It almost felt like she was talking through you rather than at you. Like she knew something you didn’t.
Another speech bubble appeared above her.
“Oh. And don’t worry about your doc. I deleted it for you. Saves you the embarrassment.”
Doc? You thought to yourself. Perhaps this had something to do with your computer being open when you woke up after last night. You panicked for a second at the thought of her deleting your essay document, but you still had it opened and safe on your phone, so it clearly wasn’t that. Had you done something with your desktop pets while you were blackout drunk? As if to finally quell your curiosities, three choices appeared before you.
▶︎ Doc?
▶︎ Let’s play Fashion 101!
▶︎ She/her
You sat on your desk quietly, utterly confused at the variety of responses you could choose. The last two choices didn’t even make sense to what she was talking about earlier. In fact, they read more like choices from previous interactions with her. Was MirandaPet bugged in some way? Perhaps after a certain point, the pets become useless after a prolonged period of no updates. This felt like something worth reaching out to her developer for, but you didn’t think you’d get a response from them. They had since moved onto to bigger projects.
Nervously, you pick the first option.
▶︎ Doc?
Miranda’s sprite narrows her small eyes at you. Another speech bubble appears beside her.
“Ugh! Yes! The doc! I am efficient after all! You can’t be plagued by your stupidity when you have that dumb assignment due. Don’t act like you didn’t write it, you brainless moron! I’m not the sappy one! I—“
Your confusion morphed into bewilderment once Miranda and her speech bubble suddenly vanished into thin air. Without a second to waste, Milan appeared in place with his own speech bubble.
“What Miranda means, is that we are grateful that you came to us first for your troubles. She may be a thorn in your side, but I at least will always lend a helping hand.”
You stared silently at Milan’s message. There was something off with both of their demeanors. You couldn’t get a clear read on what you had apparently written on a doc last night. Both of their reactions suggest contrasting ideas. Before you could ask Milan about it, another speech bubble appeared a couple of seconds after his last one.
“As your assistant, of course.”
And with that, Milan, as well as any answers you could’ve been given, disappears from your sight. You assume that maybe they will come back whenever you decide to open your document again to edit your essay.
You’re afraid to do anything on your computer at the moment. Now more than ever, it felt like every move you made on your computer was being watched. Even doing simple schoolwork felt strangely invasive. The easy solution would be to delete the MirandaPet app once and for all, but you couldn’t help but be attached to them, even with their recently weird behaviors.
Perhaps you were just lonely? Even with the fear of being watched, it felt nice knowing that somebody was always there and learning with you. Was it bad to gain this dependence on this artificial being that lived in your computer? Kiyoshi would tell you absolutely yes, but your heart told you to let yourself have this good thing for once.
Wasn’t this what you’ve been wanting? To get your priorities straight? You just didn’t see anything wrong with wanting companionship. Even if their scripted responses sounded weirdly…
Human.
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It was around eight forty-five PM on a Thursday night, meaning it was time for your pool day with Vivienne.
You were currently packing a small bag of things you believed you’d need, like a towel, speaker, Ren’s hoodie, a small soju bottle Vivienne didn’t know about. You already had on a coverup over your swimsuit, but you assumed it’d probably be cold outside, hence the extra hoodie.
Vivienne said she’d handle bringing in the vodka sodas, so all you needed to do was help her carry things she couldn’t. As much as you wanted to help her, you didn’t think she needed much help since she was already so toned. Kiyoshi’s words must’ve had an effect on your jump for aid.
No one was at the pool, from what you could see from your apartment window peering down at the plaza courtyard. All that would accompany you and your roommate tonight would be the soft rustle of trees blowing in a gentle breeze and the numerous stars in the skies. A light airy rush filled through your stomach alongside a small smile rising in your lips. You wouldn’t have expected this fluttery feeling due to your more reclusive lifestyle, but you were truthfully excited for this simple night. You would need it before you’d have to work on your essay tomorrow.
Vivienne called out your name from the kitchen. “I’m almost done here, are you finished in there?”
At her call, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder to join her. “Yep! Coming—!”
BERRR!
Your soul nearly left your body at the loud airhorn sound from your computer. That’s really weird; you usually never had your ringer on. As you scrambled to open your computer and shut off the alarm, Miranda’s pet version appeared on your taskbar with a large speech bubble above her head. In her small hands is what looked to be a megaphone. The speech bubble read:
“Pool Hangout with Vivienne in 10 minutes! Fast feet, idiot!”
You hastily click the “Ok” button below the speech bubble. You could hear Vivienne call your name again from the other room.
“What the hell was that? Was that an airhorn?!”
You panic spikes. You couldn’t really explain to your roommate, who had maybe just found out what an emulator was two days ago, that you had two sassy assistants that lived in your computer. And also that those two same “assistants” blared out the loudest alarm known to man—next to maybe an EAS—to mess with you. You blurt out in response.
“Yeah, I don’t know! My phone’s… off. Must’ve been the neighbors! Thin walls.”
Silence sits for a couple of beats. Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it.
“… Right. Let’s finish up so we can leave before the people upstairs start fucking again.”
She bought it! Kinda. You let out a sigh of relief before grabbing your bag to leave with your roommate.
Come to think of it, you can’t remember setting up a reminder for Vivienne’s pool hangout. The alarm never sounded when you planned the library hangout with Ren a couple days ago, so what did you do differently with this one? Was there an option you clicked that flew by your radar? You suppose you’ll have to do some more testing with MirandaPet's agenda planning system with your calendar later.
For now, you had a date with chlorine to get to.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
The serene ripples of the water encompassed the pleasantly quiet atmosphere in the patio. It was almost 10pm on a Thursday night, and there was not a soul around apart from the twinkling tiny stars in the sky. Tiny souls that gleamed within the pool’s waters.
Within nature’s peaceful twilight, you and Vivienne sat on the pool edge, each drinking vodka sodas and giggling. Light pop music played on the speaker you brought from your and Vivienne’s blend of songs. You already dipped yourself in the water earlier, but had submerged out of it to join her with drinks. Vivienne still hadn’t fully entered the water yet.
Your roommate was dressed in a light blue bikini set with some rhinestone ornamentals around her top. Even with its simple design, you still felt slightly lesser than with how effortlessly Vivienne manages to carry herself in it. She is paid for her appearance and demeanor, after all.
“You do this every month?” you questioned, fingers trailing along the rim of the vodka soda can.
Vivienne shrugs passively. “Only when it’s not cold. I would go more frequently, but…”
Work, you assume.
“Well,” you start. “I’m not sure why I hesitated so long to join you. The water’s cold as shit, but the night’s… really nice out here.”
You smiled as you stared out at the sky, your head lulling back comfortably. Vivienne stared back at you quietly for a couple of seconds before turning her head back to the quiet ripples of the water.
“It is,” she responded. “… I didn’t expect it to be calmer here with you. Kiyoshi splashed half of the water out of the pool with her diving.”
You laugh warmly. “She would jump in this pool?! It’s at most five feet deep!”
Vivienne smiled back at you, as though recounting the memories in her head. “Yes. Said she wouldn’t be able to break a bone because her ‘steel-like muscle mass is so strong, it functions as armor for her bones.’ At least her enthusiasm’s nice.”
Your eyes crinkle as you laugh alongside her. “She’s really awesome.”
“She is.”
Comfortable silence settles between the two of you. Vivienne drinks out of her soda while kicking her feet peacefully in the water. You turn your head back up to stare at the pool in front of you, envisioning Kiyoshi’s dive and how much water she would’ve splashed out.
“… I didn’t know Kiyoshi went with you on these.”
Vivienne stares quietly at the water while fastening the strings of her bikini top. “Sometimes… she works late a lot of the time, but she’s been on at least four of these with me.”
You hummed thoughtfully while taking another sip of your drink. You don’t remember Vivienne ever telling you Kiyoshi was going with her in the past. Then again, you’ve learned now that she isn’t entitled to tell you everything. “That’s really sweet of her.”
Your roommate smiles softly. “Mhm…”
You think to yourself for a moment. “We should all go together one day.”
Vivienne immediately scoffs at your words.
“What?!”
She shakes her head with a chuckle. “You may be chill now, but if you’re with Kiyoshi, there is no relaxing with you two.”
“C’mon!” you chide playfully. “Give us a chance! We can totally be relaxing for you!”
Vivienne only offers you a blank stare.
“We can entertain ourselves!”
“That’s the issue,” she responds. “Both of you together would only give me more wrinkles. I’d sooner let Rudy in one of these than both of you.”
“Eugh, ew! Don’t bring your stupid manager! You can’t be that much of a kiss-ass.”
“What do you mean ‘that much?’”
“See? You didn’t even deny it!” you exclaim. “You’re a kiss-ass. Smooch smooch.”
“Am not.”
“Are too! So too!”
Vivienne stares at you with an amused smirk. “Wow. It took you one drink to get buzzed?”
“One and a half!”
“…”
“I mean, I’m not buzzed!”
Vivienne laughs melodically before standing up from the pool edge. She grabs the empty cans of drinks to throw away before speaking. “Don’t overdo it.”
“I… am not overdoing it,” you assure, your speech slowing down upon registering her and Kiyoshi’s similar warning. “I am still perfectly sober. Sober enough to help and comfort my darlingist popsicle.”
She furrows her brows at you. “Am I the popsicle?”
“Yes, keep up. Damn,” you groan. “You’re supposed to be smart, you graduated early.”
“I am smart.”
“And so… so blunt. You ever let anything past those beautiful stone cold lips?”
Vivienne rolls her eyes at you playfully. She moves to dip herself into the water, now holding a new vodka soda can. “I don’t know what kind of charm you think you have, but I promise you, it’s not working.”
“What?! I do too have charm! My mom says I’m very lovable.”
Your roommate leans against the pool edge while still submerged in the water. She narrows her eyes to your bag, catching the subtle curve of a glass bottle.
“… Hm. So that’s where the soju went.”
You follow Vivienne’s gaze to your tote bag. Embarrassment rushes over you as you quickly jump to defend yourself. “I haven’t drank any yet! It was just… in case.”
Your roommate raises her eyebrow at you. She shrugs and turns around to swim laps around the pool underwater. “I don’t mind. Have fun however you want, girl.”
You watch her swim around the pool water. She looks to be in her element in the cold water. Her movements are as graceful as a ballerina and as smooth as a sea otter. Was she a professional swimmer before a model? What more could this girl do? You felt like she lived a million lives before meeting you.
Yet something about her demeanor when she found your soju bottle felt off. She looked more disappointed than anything. She buried it quickly, but it seemed to bother her in a way she didn’t want to bring up.
When she emerged back to your side, her hair was wet and stuck to her skin, but still retained its form in her ponytail.
“Are you Barbie?” you blurted out.
Vivienne stared back at you, appalled. “What?”
You shook your head, as though waking yourself up. Must have been the vodka. “It’s just… you’re so… perfect.”
Your roommate stares back at you, not making a sound. All you could hear was the chirping of crickets and the droplets of water from her hair and face hitting the pool. She seemed deep in thought, that even when you moved your hand to try and snap her out of it, she didn’t move. Suddenly, she checked herself back into reality with you. She seemed noticeably more flustered.
“Ah… um… well, I wouldn’t say so. That’s really… sweet,” responded Vivienne, her fingers trailing around the pool edge.
You stared back at her solemn expression quietly. She seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“… I’m sorry. Did I, like… offend you?”
Vivienne blinked up at you in shock before quickly shaking her head. “No! No, no you didn’t. I’m fine. I’m just… thinking.”
You sit on the pool edge while Vivienne takes another lap under the pool. Embarrassment clouds over your head at her defensive comforting. You suddenly felt like you weren’t doing anything right this night. You finish up your drink and reach over your roommate’s cooler to grab another one.
“You can talk to me. If you want,” you said when Vivienne emerges from the water.
She smiles softly before shaking her head. “It’s not anything I want you to worry about.”
You watch as she once again dips underwater to swim around. You may have only known Vivienne for around a year and a half, but living with her has made you privy to most of her tells. Like when she didn’t like certain foods you did, but wanted to be nice, or when she tried to be interested in a topic you were passionate about, or recently when she calmly scolded you, schooling in her true frustration, after you had forgotten to clean out the dryer’s filter again.
Despite your observations, you could not read what was going on in your roommate’s head. She’s always been guarded when it came to personal struggles and her past life, so it was hard to get anything out of her. You kicked your feet in the water as you tried to think of a way she could lessen her load.
“I have a stupid idea.”
Vivienne turns to you with an unamused expression. “Almost all of your ideas are stupid.”
You scoff at her sassiness. “Almost. Hear me out, though.”
Vivienne stays underwater, silently staring and letting you go on.
“I know you’re keeping stuff to yourself,” you start. “It’s not really a secret, but I want to help you. Since you’re so private, though… what if I get shit-faced to the point that I black out, and you can tell me whatever’s been bothering you. You’ll get it out of your system and I won’t remember a thing about it!”
Vivienne stares at you silently from the water, processing your explanation in her head. “That was way dumber than I thought it was going to be.”
You groan before entering the water with her. You tense and curse instantly once the cold hits you. “C’mon…! Have some faith— fuck, it’s cold! I just don’t want you to keep… dragging whatever’s been bothering you to yourself!”
Vivienne narrows her eyes at your form in front of her, her long hair floating in the water and brushing over your shoulders. Her eyebrows are knit together in frustration. “It won’t accomplish anything. If you’re shit-faced, you’re not even going to be able to listen to me, anyway. You’ll be in your own world.”
“Well…!” you pause, trying to think of a defense for yourself. “I… didn’t think of that. But, c’mon! What’s the harm in trying?”
“You,” stated Vivienne. “The harm in trying is you. I don’t want to be the reason you black out.”
You fell silent. You suppose leaving her to clean up your mess wouldn’t make her feel any better, would it? Embarrassed again, you sigh, drifting your body towards the pool edge to rest your head on it. Your cheek was pressed against the tile while your lips were pulled into a guilty frown.
“Hm… you’re right. I’m sorry… I just really want to help you, but I don’t know how. I’ve never been good at comforting people,” you mumbled.
Vivienne didn’t move from her spot in the water for several seconds. The water continued brushing against her while she stared at your defeated form on the pool ledge. Her full lips fell into a small frown, pity billowing in her gut.
She swam over to your side again. “Hey… I, uh… I get it. I’m bad at it too, if you couldn’t tell.”
Your eyes flicked up to meet hers. The calming sounds of the water permeated through the atmosphere. A small laugh escaped your lips.
“… You are.”
Vivienne smiled before softly hitting your arm. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
You chuckled, massaging your arm. “Haha… yeah, I know.”
You smiled softly at each other, settling in quiet comfortable silence. You straightened your head back up to lean against the pool edge, reaching for your can again. Vivienne grabbed hers as well.
“… Thanks for inviting me here,” you said.
Your roommate nods, her expression more peaceful than when she arrived. “Thanks for coming.”
You smile back at her. After a swing of your drink, you lean your head on her shoulder, a happy smile on your lips. Vivienne doesn’t move for a couple of seconds before also resting her head over yours. Vivienne mutters your name quietly.
“Yeah?”
“… I think maybe you did have a point,” said Vivienne.
You turn your eyes towards her. “How?”
You watch as Vivienne’s eyes turn to your abandoned tote bag beside the lounge chairs. A sly, knowing smile curves up on her lips.
“… It’s been a while since we last really drank.”
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It was around eight forty-five PM on a Thursday night, meaning it was time for your pool day with Vivienne.
You were currently packing a small bag of things you believed you’d need, like a towel, speaker, Ren’s hoodie, a small soju bottle Vivienne didn’t know about. You already had on a coverup over your swimsuit, but you assumed it’d probably be cold outside, hence the extra hoodie.
Vivienne said she’d handle bringing in the vodka sodas, so all you needed to do was help her carry things she couldn’t. As much as you wanted to help her, you didn’t think she needed much help since she was already so toned. Kiyoshi’s words must’ve had an effect on your jump for aid.
No one was at the pool, from what you could see from your apartment window peering down at the plaza courtyard. All that would accompany you and your roommate tonight would be the soft rustle of trees blowing in a gentle breeze and the numerous stars in the skies. A light airy rush filled through your stomach alongside a small smile rising in your lips. You wouldn’t have expected this fluttery feeling due to your more reclusive lifestyle, but you were truthfully excited for this simple night. You would need it before you’d have to work on your essay tomorrow.
Vivienne called out your name from the kitchen. “I’m almost done here, are you finished in there?”
At her call, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder to join her. “Yep! Coming—!”
BERRR!
Your soul nearly left your body at the loud airhorn sound from your computer. That’s really weird; you usually never had your ringer on. As you scrambled to open your computer and shut off the alarm, Miranda’s pet version appeared on your taskbar with a large speech bubble above her head. In her small hands is what looked to be a megaphone. The speech bubble read:
“Pool Hangout with Vivienne in 10 minutes! Fast feet, idiot!”
You hastily click the “Ok” button below the speech bubble. You could hear Vivienne call your name again from the other room.
“What the hell was that? Was that an airhorn?!”
You panic spikes. You couldn’t really explain to your roommate, who had maybe just found out what an emulator was two days ago, that you had two sassy assistants that lived in your computer. And also that those two same “assistants” blared out the loudest alarm known to man—next to maybe an EAS—to mess with you. You blurt out in response.
“Yeah, I don’t know! My phone’s… off. Must’ve been the neighbors! Thin walls.”
Silence sits for a couple of beats. Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it.
“… Right. Let’s finish up so we can leave before the people upstairs start fucking again.”
She bought it! Kinda. You let out a sigh of relief before grabbing your bag to leave with your roommate.
Come to think of it, you can’t remember setting up a reminder for Vivienne’s pool hangout. The alarm never sounded when you planned the library hangout with Ren a couple days ago, so what did you do differently with this one? Was there an option you clicked that flew by your radar? You suppose you’ll have to do some more testing with MirandaPet's agenda planning system with your calendar later.
For now, you had a date with chlorine to get to.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
The serene ripples of the water encompassed the pleasantly quiet atmosphere in the patio. It was almost 10pm on a Thursday night, and there was not a soul around apart from the twinkling tiny stars in the sky. Tiny souls that gleamed within the pool’s waters.
Within nature’s peaceful twilight, you and Vivienne sat on the pool edge, each drinking vodka sodas and giggling. Light pop music played on the speaker you brought from your and Vivienne’s blend of songs. You already dipped yourself in the water earlier, but had submerged out of it to join her with drinks. Vivienne still hadn’t fully entered the water yet.
Your roommate was dressed in a light blue bikini set with some rhinestone ornamentals around her top. Even with its simple design, you still felt slightly lesser than with how effortlessly Vivienne manages to carry herself in it. She is paid for her appearance and demeanor, after all.
“You do this every month?” you questioned, fingers trailing along the rim of the vodka soda can.
Vivienne shrugs passively. “Only when it’s not cold. I would go more frequently, but…”
Work, you assume.
“Well,” you start. “I’m not sure why I hesitated so long to join you. The water’s cold as shit, but the night’s… really nice out here.”
You smiled as you stared out at the sky, your head lulling back comfortably. Vivienne stared back at you quietly for a couple of seconds before turning her head back to the quiet ripples of the water.
“It is,” she responded. “… I didn’t expect it to be calmer here with you. Kiyoshi splashed half of the water out of the pool with her diving.”
You laugh warmly. “She would jump in this pool?! It’s at most five feet deep!”
Vivienne smiled back at you, as though recounting the memories in her head. “Yes. Said she wouldn’t be able to break a bone because her ‘steel-like muscle mass is so strong, it functions as armor for her bones.’ At least her enthusiasm’s nice.”
Your eyes crinkle as you laugh alongside her. “She’s really awesome.”
“She is.”
Comfortable silence settles between the two of you. Vivienne drinks out of her soda while kicking her feet peacefully in the water. You turn your head back up to stare at the pool in front of you, envisioning Kiyoshi’s dive and how much water she would’ve splashed out.
“… I didn’t know Kiyoshi went with you on these.”
Vivienne stares quietly at the water while fastening the strings of her bikini top. “Sometimes… she works late a lot of the time, but she’s been on at least four of these with me.”
You hummed thoughtfully while taking another sip of your drink. You don’t remember Vivienne ever telling you Kiyoshi was going with her in the past. Then again, you’ve learned now that she isn’t entitled to tell you everything. “That’s really sweet of her.”
Your roommate smiles softly. “Mhm…”
You think to yourself for a moment. “We should all go together one day.”
Vivienne immediately scoffs at your words.
“What?!”
She shakes her head with a chuckle. “You may be chill now, but if you’re with Kiyoshi, there is no relaxing with you two.”
“C’mon!” you chide playfully. “Give us a chance! We can totally be relaxing for you!”
Vivienne only offers you a blank stare.
“We can entertain ourselves!”
“That’s the issue,” she responds. “Both of you together would only give me more wrinkles. I’d sooner let Rudy in one of these than both of you.”
“Eugh, ew! Don’t bring your stupid manager! You can’t be that much of a kiss-ass.”
“What do you mean ‘that much?’”
“See? You didn’t even deny it!” you exclaim. “You’re a kiss-ass. Smooch smooch.”
“Am not.”
“Are too! So too!”
Vivienne stares at you with an amused smirk. “Wow. It took you one drink to get buzzed?”
“One and a half!”
“…”
“I mean, I’m not buzzed!”
Vivienne laughs melodically before standing up from the pool edge. She grabs the empty cans of drinks to throw away before speaking. “Don’t overdo it.”
“I… am not overdoing it,” you assure, your speech slowing down upon registering her and Kiyoshi’s similar warning. “I am still perfectly sober. Sober enough to help and comfort my darlingist popsicle.”
She furrows her brows at you. “Am I the popsicle?”
“Yes, keep up. Damn,” you groan. “You’re supposed to be smart, you graduated early.”
“I am smart.”
“And so… so blunt. You ever let anything past those beautiful stone cold lips?”
Vivienne rolls her eyes at you playfully. She moves to dip herself into the water, now holding a new vodka soda can. “I don’t know what kind of charm you think you have, but I promise you, it’s not working.”
“What?! I do too have charm! My mom says I’m very lovable.”
Your roommate leans against the pool edge while still submerged in the water. She narrows her eyes to your bag, catching the subtle curve of a glass bottle.
“… Hm. So that’s where the soju went.”
You follow Vivienne’s gaze to your tote bag. Embarrassment rushes over you as you quickly jump to defend yourself. “I haven’t drank any yet! It was just… in case.”
Your roommate raises her eyebrow at you. She shrugs and turns around to swim laps around the pool underwater. “I don’t mind. Have fun however you want, girl.”
You watch her swim around the pool water. She looks to be in her element in the cold water. Her movements are as graceful as a ballerina and as smooth as a sea otter. Was she a professional swimmer before a model? What more could this girl do? You felt like she lived a million lives before meeting you.
Yet something about her demeanor when she found your soju bottle felt off. She looked more disappointed than anything. She buried it quickly, but it seemed to bother her in a way she didn’t want to bring up.
When she emerged back to your side, her hair was wet and stuck to her skin, but still retained its form in her ponytail.
“Are you Barbie?” you blurted out.
Vivienne stared back at you, appalled. “What?”
You shook your head, as though waking yourself up. Must have been the vodka. “It’s just… you’re so… perfect.”
Your roommate stares back at you, not making a sound. All you could hear was the chirping of crickets and the droplets of water from her hair and face hitting the pool. She seemed deep in thought, that even when you moved your hand to try and snap her out of it, she didn’t move. Suddenly, she checked herself back into reality with you. She seemed noticeably more flustered.
“Ah… um… well, I wouldn’t say so. That’s really… sweet,” responded Vivienne, her fingers trailing around the pool edge.
You stared back at her solemn expression quietly. She seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“… I’m sorry. Did I, like… offend you?”
Vivienne blinked up at you in shock before quickly shaking her head. “No! No, no you didn’t. I’m fine. I’m just… thinking.”
You sit on the pool edge while Vivienne takes another lap under the pool. Embarrassment clouds over your head at her defensive comforting. You suddenly felt like you weren’t doing anything right this night. You finish up your drink and reach over your roommate’s cooler to grab another one.
“You can talk to me. If you want,” you said when Vivienne emerges from the water.
She smiles softly before shaking her head. “It’s not anything I want you to worry about.”
You watch as she once again dips underwater to swim around. You may have only known Vivienne for around a year and a half, but living with her has made you privy to most of her tells. Like when she didn’t like certain foods you did, but wanted to be nice, or when she tried to be interested in a topic you were passionate about, or recently when she calmly scolded you, schooling in her true frustration, after you had forgotten to clean out the dryer’s filter again.
Despite your observations, you could not read what was going on in your roommate’s head. She’s always been guarded when it came to personal struggles and her past life, so it was hard to get anything out of her. You kicked your feet in the water as you tried to think of a way she could lessen her load.
“I have a stupid idea.”
Vivienne turns to you with an unamused expression. “Almost all of your ideas are stupid.”
You scoff at her sassiness. “Almost. Hear me out, though.”
Vivienne stays underwater, silently staring and letting you go on.
“I know you’re keeping stuff to yourself,” you start. “It’s not really a secret, but I want to help you. Since you’re so private, though… what if I get shit-faced to the point that I black out, and you can tell me whatever’s been bothering you. You’ll get it out of your system and I won’t remember a thing about it!”
Vivienne stares at you silently from the water, processing your explanation in her head. “That was way dumber than I thought it was going to be.”
You groan before entering the water with her. You tense and curse instantly once the cold hits you. “C’mon…! Have some faith— fuck, it’s cold! I just don’t want you to keep… dragging whatever’s been bothering you to yourself!”
Vivienne narrows her eyes at your form in front of her, her long hair floating in the water and brushing over your shoulders. Her eyebrows are knit together in frustration. “It won’t accomplish anything. If you’re shit-faced, you’re not even going to be able to listen to me, anyway. You’ll be in your own world.”
“Well…!” you pause, trying to think of a defense for yourself. “I… didn’t think of that. But, c’mon! What’s the harm in trying?”
“You,” stated Vivienne. “The harm in trying is you. I don’t want to be the reason you black out.”
You fell silent. You suppose leaving her to clean up your mess wouldn’t make her feel any better, would it? Embarrassed again, you sigh, drifting your body towards the pool edge to rest your head on it. Your cheek was pressed against the tile while your lips were pulled into a guilty frown.
“Hm… you’re right. I’m sorry… I just really want to help you, but I don’t know how. I’ve never been good at comforting people,” you mumbled.
Vivienne didn’t move from her spot in the water for several seconds. The water continued brushing against her while she stared at your defeated form on the pool ledge. Her full lips fell into a small frown, pity billowing in her gut.
She swam over to your side again. “Hey… I, uh… I get it. I’m bad at it too, if you couldn’t tell.”
Your eyes flicked up to meet hers. The calming sounds of the water permeated through the atmosphere. A small laugh escaped your lips.
“… You are.”
Vivienne smiled before softly hitting your arm. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
You chuckled, massaging your arm. “Haha… yeah, I know.”
You smiled softly at each other, settling in quiet comfortable silence. You straightened your head back up to lean against the pool edge, reaching for your can again. Vivienne grabbed hers as well.
“… Thanks for inviting me here,” you said.
Your roommate nods, her expression more peaceful than when she arrived. “Thanks for coming.”
You smile back at her. After a swing of your drink, you lean your head on her shoulder, a happy smile on your lips. Vivienne doesn’t move for a couple of seconds before also resting her head over yours. Vivienne mutters your name quietly.
“Yeah?”
“… I think maybe you did have a point,” said Vivienne.
You turn your eyes towards her. “How?”
You watch as Vivienne’s eyes turn to your abandoned tote bag beside the lounge chairs. A sly, knowing smile curves up on her lips.
“… It’s been a while since we last really drank.”
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Milan Desktop Appearance [art by @cherritune]
Vivienne Monet [art by @cherritune]
Ren Kaneko [art by @cherritune]
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You held your phone to your ear while you moved to sit down on your bed.
”Hi, girl!” exclaimed Kiyoshi. “Missed you. Ren just told me that you wanted to do a group call sometime?”
Your eyes widened in realization. You had almost forgotten that you were supposed to ask Ren when he wanted to come over and set up OBS for your computer. Honestly, you were surprised Ren had remembered the hangout enough to let Kiyoshi know.
”Oh my god, yeah, I almost forgot! I wanted to try and transfer my screen on my DS to my laptop. I honestly don’t really think it’s going to work, but Ren is coming over soon to help me out. You can come over too, but I know it might not really be your thing.”
You heard some rustling on the other line. It sounded like Kiyoshi was packing something. “Oh, yeah I can totally come over! I can just hang with Viv as you two nerds figure that out.”
You chuckle. “Sounds nice. How has the gym been working out for you two?”
Kiyoshi let out a weary huff from the other line. “Oh, my god, that girl does not do anything but cardio! She’s hella good at it, but I honestly didn’t get to see her a lot because of it. She’s lucky I’m hitting legs tomorrow, so she’ll actually have someone to talk to rather than listen to podcasts.”
“She’s cute.”
”Right?” said Kiyoshi. You could hear her zip up what you assumed to be her backpack. “She also told me you were going with her to the pool this time.”
You scoff. “Man. Does anyone tell me anything nowadays?”
The other woman laughs heartfully. “Guess not. She seemed excited about it though. It’s rare. Don’t fuck it up for her, ‘kay?”
You bit your lip. “…. About that…”
“I’m being serious.”
”I know that!” You defend. “But she mentioned bringing drinks…”
Kiyoshi firmly called you by your name. “If you act anywhere close to the way you did back at my place, I’ll beat you up.”
“Please don’t—” you plead playfully.
“—You spent half the night vomiting in the toilet. You know, just being reminded of it is making me a bit…”
“You’re built like a mountain,” you claim. “You will kill me.”
”Damn right,” agreed Kiyoshi, clearly prideful in her figure. “But seriously. She’s been under a lot of stress right now. And by the sounds of it, you are too if you’re thinking about drinking.”
”Oh come on,” you counter, adjusting yourself so that you’re lying down on your bed. “You make it sound like I’m a deadbeat alcoholic father. I only ever drink with you guys.”
“Riiiight…” said Kiyoshi, clearly not believing you.
Silence falls between the two of you. You can’t help but wonder what Kiyoshi meant earlier.
”… What do you mean Viv’s stressed out?”
Kiyoshi doesn’t respond. You can hear her sling her backpack over her shoulder based on the tiny grunt she makes. She speaks after a couple of beats of silence. “… I don’t think it’s really my place to say. Just, uh… please hang out with her. She kinda needs people right now.”
You furrow your brows. You know Kiyoshi. And you also knew that she was notoriously bad at lying, except when it was very serious. Your concern for your roommate that you thought you knew so well began to gnaw at you. “… Well… In that case, I feel like it’d be nice for you to come with us. She’s probably closer to you than to me.”
Kiyoshi laughs softly. You can’t see it, but she shakes her head to herself. “Ah, I would love to. I’m hanging out with Momo, though. Have fun though, okay? But seriously, don’t overdue it on the drinks. Viv can’t keep mothering you.”
You sigh. “But I like being mothered…”
The other woman immediately scoffs. “Eugh. I really do have to get you and Momo to meet. She’d get along so well with your freak ass.”
You chuckled amusedly. “Maybe…”
You hear a door open and close from Kiyoshi’s line. “Alright, I’m heading over to class right now. Before I go, wanna set up the hangout for the OB… whatever thing?”
”Oh! Yeah, we totally can,” you said. You get up from your bed and walk over to your desk. You minimize MirandaPet’s tab from when you were playing on it a few minutes ago to open your calendar.
“Hm… tomorrow on Thursday I’m going with Viv to the pool, so we can do Friday if you want? It might be a little later depending on how much I drink.”
“Yeah, that’s fine with me!” said Kiyoshi. “We gotta see if it works for Ren, though. I would ask, but I’m going to class and he doesn’t respond to me as fast as he does to you.”
”Yeah. Don’t really know why, to be honest,” you said, already inputting the new hangout onto your calendar. You make sure to add Vivienne’s pool hangout for tomorrow too.
While doing so, Miranda’s pet form watches you type quietly, reading over what the details of the hangout are. A pop-up appears beside the event details. It reads:
Would you like Miranda / Milan to remind you of these events?
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
You didn’t read the full message. Talking to the real person on the phone takes precedence for you. You clicked a random button before stepping back from your laptop.
”I’ll let him know, though. Have fun in class!”
“Only sickos have fun in class. Bye!”
Kiyoshi hangs up and leaves you in the solitude of your bedroom. You had a bit of time before you would have to leave for class, so you decided to call Ren.
One ring. Two rings. Six rings.
Missed Call.
”Whatever,” you mumble frustratingly to yourself. “Loser’s probably in class. Who does that.”
You call again.
Two rings. Three—
“What.”
“Your butt cream’s—“
“That’s my joke.”
You huff. “Should’ve answered on the first ring. I’ll rob your Steam account next.”
”You have my Steam account.”
You blink. “Do I?”
Ren scoffs. “Yes, I had to log in with your computer one time because I was going to miss buying something from the Summer Sale. What do you want?”
Damn, You thought to yourself, all of the weird games I could’ve ruined his social life with.
”Kiyoshi called. We planned the OBS hangout thing for late Friday. Yay or nay?” you explained.
”Nay. I’m busy.”
”No, you’re not.”
Ren huffed. He was certainly feeling sassy today. “‘Kay, whatever, I’m not. I didn’t know Kiyoshi was coming.”
”I didn’t know either,” you said. You quickly remember that you were the one that invited her. “—Well, I mean, I offered. Just to be nice. She said she’d just stay with Viv, and then when it’s all set up, we can all hang out.”
”Oh, ok,” said Ren. “… Sounds good then. Was that it?”
“Yes…” you trailed off. “Why? You’ve been sounding like you’re in a rush.”
“I’m not.”
You hummed disbelievingly. “Mmmm, sounds like you are.”
Ren groans on the other line. “I’m just busy.”
“Busy jerking off?”
Ren immediately scowls in disgust. “Dude…”
Your eyebrows raised up, a shocked expression overtaking your face. “Oh my god, you so were.”
“Prude. Wanna hear it?”
”Hell no.” You hang up immediately.
Just before you can actually begin getting ready for class, you get a text message from Ren.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You adjusted the cold face mask over your face. It was a quarter to nine in the night and you were peacefully relaxing in bed after a long shower. Vivienne had a dinner to go to with a couple of her friends, so you had DoorDashed Jollibee—which you thankfully learned existed thanks to Ren—to your apartment to eat. You could cook, but sometimes you really did not feel like laboring over making the food and washing all the dishes afterwards. Today was one of those times.
A show you really enjoyed was playing on your computer while you ate your food on a tray. Your mom had ordered bed trays online, but she accidentally ordered two rather than one for herself. Rather than return the other, she packed it up and shipped it for you to enjoy instead. It’s been your favorite thing in your room now.
Your desktop pets were inactive as you watched your show. You weren’t too bothered and opted to just focus on enjoying yourself in your fuzzy bathrobe. Funny enough, your bathrobe was originally a baby shower present made for your cousin, but she already had one she was attached to, so she gave it to you instead. Every time you used it, you wondered how her original bathrobe felt, since you swore your robe was softer than your own towel and perhaps her own baby’s skin. What a wonderful life of hand-me-downs you lived.
You found your eyes looking at your untouched DS sitting on your nightstand. You had played a bit on it earlier after you got back home from class. However, rather than playing Look Book, you spent your time playing Cooking Mama 2: Dinner With Friends. Your cartridge’s printed art was peeling off and probably left an indent on your DS from how much you played it when you were younger. You distinctly remember your father having to grab you by the hand and pull you outside to get past your addiction. Almond Jelly be damned.
You had a deep love for old video games that no one you knew played. Your mom and dad mostly bought DS games that were based off of popular TV shows back then, so you owned games like the Wizards of Waverly Place DS game and Phineas and Ferb: Ride Again. Others were definitely ones you thought most people played, but you haven’t seen being talked about, like Littlest Pet Shop 3: Biggest Stage (you had the Pink edition), Tinkerbell and the Lost Treasure, and Zoobles! Spring to Life!. And of course, there was Look Book, which you never played as a kid, but you were glad to have found in your young adult life.
You and Ren even talked about saving up together to buy a Wii console for each of you to share custody over in your apartments. Perhaps making a friend that was just as disgustingly into old video games wasn’t good for either of your spending habits. But hey, at least you weren’t spending money doing crack.
Maybe all of this reminiscing was a sign to call your parents soon.
You made a mental note to do so when it wasn’t close to their bedtimes. You couldn’t wait until you finished with your finals and you could go home again. It’s been a long and stressful semester, and you haven’t seen them since Spring Break. It’d be nice to go home with your childhood friends and family. You just knew that your friends had so much to say about what’s new in their lives. You lived a far more boring life than them, after all. Even if you were roommates with a gorgeous model.
Her pool invite was tomorrow. At first, you were pretty intimidated being seen in public wearing fewer clothes next to a literal model. However, your insecurities were put aside in your head when you remembered what Kiyoshi had let slip earlier. Vivienne was going through a rough time, and here you were bitching about not looking as attractive as her? You had to get your priorities straight and focus on showing up for her.
That was part of the reason why you were indulging in this self care night. Moments alone were your forte, and you thought that by lounging with your thoughts, you would be able to gain a bit more clarity. So far, it’s been helpful, though it’s no surprise just how far your thoughts have gone. Hanging out with her should be fun. She was even thoughtful enough to plan it later in the day so that less people would be around for the both of you.
And there was going to be drinks involved or whatever.
You snapped out of your miniature mental tangent and tuned back into your show. You still had around ten more minutes with your face mask on, but knowing yourself, you’d probably have it on for an extra twenty. You wrapped the fuzzy bathrobe tighter over yourself, and continued eating your dinner for the night. Pleasantly alone with your thoughts.
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You held your phone to your ear while you moved to sit down on your bed.
”Hi, girl!” exclaimed Kiyoshi. “Missed you. Ren just told me that you wanted to do a group call sometime?”
Your eyes widened in realization. You had almost forgotten that you were supposed to ask Ren when he wanted to come over and set up OBS for your computer. Honestly, you were surprised Ren had remembered the hangout enough to let Kiyoshi know.
”Oh my god, yeah, I almost forgot! I wanted to try and transfer my screen on my DS to my laptop. I honestly don’t really think it’s going to work, but Ren is coming over soon to help me out. You can come over too, but I know it might not really be your thing.”
You heard some rustling on the other line. It sounded like Kiyoshi was packing something. “Oh, yeah I can totally come over! I can just hang with Viv as you two nerds figure that out.”
You chuckle. “Sounds nice. How has the gym been working out for you two?”
Kiyoshi let out a weary huff from the other line. “Oh, my god, that girl does not do anything but cardio! She’s hella good at it, but I honestly didn’t get to see her a lot because of it. She’s lucky I’m hitting legs tomorrow, so she’ll actually have someone to talk to rather than listen to podcasts.”
“She’s cute.”
”Right?” said Kiyoshi. You could hear her zip up what you assumed to be her backpack. “She also told me you were going with her to the pool this time.”
You scoff. “Man. Does anyone tell me anything nowadays?”
The other woman laughs heartfully. “Guess not. She seemed excited about it though. It’s rare. Don’t fuck it up for her, ‘kay?”
You bit your lip. “…. About that…”
“I’m being serious.”
”I know that!” You defend. “But she mentioned bringing drinks…”
Kiyoshi firmly called you by your name. “If you act anywhere close to the way you did back at my place, I’ll beat you up.”
“Please don’t—” you plead playfully.
“—You spent half the night vomiting in the toilet. You know, just being reminded of it is making me a bit…”
“You’re built like a mountain,” you claim. “You will kill me.”
”Damn right,” agreed Kiyoshi, clearly prideful in her figure. “But seriously. She’s been under a lot of stress right now. And by the sounds of it, you are too if you’re thinking about drinking.”
”Oh come on,” you counter, adjusting yourself so that you’re lying down on your bed. “You make it sound like I’m a deadbeat alcoholic father. I only ever drink with you guys.”
“Riiiight…” said Kiyoshi, clearly not believing you.
Silence falls between the two of you. You can’t help but wonder what Kiyoshi meant earlier.
”… What do you mean Viv’s stressed out?”
Kiyoshi doesn’t respond. You can hear her sling her backpack over her shoulder based on the tiny grunt she makes. She speaks after a couple of beats of silence. “… I don’t think it’s really my place to say. Just, uh… please hang out with her. She kinda needs people right now.”
You furrow your brows. You know Kiyoshi. And you also knew that she was notoriously bad at lying, except when it was very serious. Your concern for your roommate that you thought you knew so well began to gnaw at you. “… Well… In that case, I feel like it’d be nice for you to come with us. She’s probably closer to you than to me.”
Kiyoshi laughs softly. You can’t see it, but she shakes her head to herself. “Ah, I would love to. I’m hanging out with Momo, though. Have fun though, okay? But seriously, don’t overdue it on the drinks. Viv can’t keep mothering you.”
You sigh. “But I like being mothered…”
The other woman immediately scoffs. “Eugh. I really do have to get you and Momo to meet. She’d get along so well with your freak ass.”
You chuckled amusedly. “Maybe…”
You hear a door open and close from Kiyoshi’s line. “Alright, I’m heading over to class right now. Before I go, wanna set up the hangout for the OB… whatever thing?”
”Oh! Yeah, we totally can,” you said. You get up from your bed and walk over to your desk. You minimize MirandaPet’s tab from when you were playing on it a few minutes ago to open your calendar.
“Hm… tomorrow on Thursday I’m going with Viv to the pool, so we can do Friday if you want? It might be a little later depending on how much I drink.”
“Yeah, that’s fine with me!” said Kiyoshi. “We gotta see if it works for Ren, though. I would ask, but I’m going to class and he doesn’t respond to me as fast as he does to you.”
”Yeah. Don’t really know why, to be honest,” you said, already inputting the new hangout onto your calendar. You make sure to add Vivienne’s pool hangout for tomorrow too.
While doing so, Miranda’s pet form watches you type quietly, reading over what the details of the hangout are. A pop-up appears beside the event details. It reads:
Would you like Miranda / Milan to remind you of these events?
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
You didn’t read the full message. Talking to the real person on the phone takes precedence for you. You clicked a random button before stepping back from your laptop.
”I’ll let him know, though. Have fun in class!”
“Only sickos have fun in class. Bye!”
Kiyoshi hangs up and leaves you in the solitude of your bedroom. You had a bit of time before you would have to leave for class, so you decided to call Ren.
One ring. Two rings. Six rings.
Missed Call.
”Whatever,” you mumble frustratingly to yourself. “Loser’s probably in class. Who does that.”
You call again.
Two rings. Three—
“What.”
“Your butt cream’s—“
“That’s my joke.”
You huff. “Should’ve answered on the first ring. I’ll rob your Steam account next.”
”You have my Steam account.”
You blink. “Do I?”
Ren scoffs. “Yes, I had to log in with your computer one time because I was going to miss buying something from the Summer Sale. What do you want?”
Damn, You thought to yourself, all of the weird games I could’ve ruined his social life with.
”Kiyoshi called. We planned the OBS hangout thing for late Friday. Yay or nay?” you explained.
”Nay. I’m busy.”
”No, you’re not.”
Ren huffed. He was certainly feeling sassy today. “‘Kay, whatever, I’m not. I didn’t know Kiyoshi was coming.”
”I didn’t know either,” you said. You quickly remember that you were the one that invited her. “—Well, I mean, I offered. Just to be nice. She said she’d just stay with Viv, and then when it’s all set up, we can all hang out.”
”Oh, ok,” said Ren. “… Sounds good then. Was that it?”
“Yes…” you trailed off. “Why? You’ve been sounding like you’re in a rush.”
“I’m not.”
You hummed disbelievingly. “Mmmm, sounds like you are.”
Ren groans on the other line. “I’m just busy.”
“Busy jerking off?”
Ren immediately scowls in disgust. “Dude…”
Your eyebrows raised up, a shocked expression overtaking your face. “Oh my god, you so were.”
“Prude. Wanna hear it?”
”Hell no.” You hang up immediately.
Just before you can actually begin getting ready for class, you get a text message from Ren.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You adjusted the cold face mask over your face. It was a quarter to nine in the night and you were peacefully relaxing in bed after a long shower. Vivienne had a dinner to go to with a couple of her friends, so you had DoorDashed Jollibee—which you thankfully learned existed thanks to Ren—to your apartment to eat. You could cook, but sometimes you really did not feel like laboring over making the food and washing all the dishes afterwards. Today was one of those times.
A show you really enjoyed was playing on your computer while you ate your food on a tray. Your mom had ordered bed trays online, but she accidentally ordered two rather than one for herself. Rather than return the other, she packed it up and shipped it for you to enjoy instead. It’s been your favorite thing in your room now.
Your desktop pets were inactive as you watched your show. You weren’t too bothered and opted to just focus on enjoying yourself in your fuzzy bathrobe. Funny enough, your bathrobe was originally a baby shower present made for your cousin, but she already had one she was attached to, so she gave it to you instead. Every time you used it, you wondered how her original bathrobe felt, since you swore your robe was softer than your own towel and perhaps her own baby’s skin. What a wonderful life of hand-me-downs you lived.
You found your eyes looking at your untouched DS sitting on your nightstand. You had played a bit on it earlier after you got back home from class. However, rather than playing Look Book, you spent your time playing Cooking Mama 2: Dinner With Friends. Your cartridge’s printed art was peeling off and probably left an indent on your DS from how much you played it when you were younger. You distinctly remember your father having to grab you by the hand and pull you outside to get past your addiction. Almond Jelly be damned.
You had a deep love for old video games that no one you knew played. Your mom and dad mostly bought DS games that were based off of popular TV shows back then, so you owned games like the Wizards of Waverly Place DS game and Phineas and Ferb: Ride Again. Others were definitely ones you thought most people played, but you haven’t seen being talked about, like Littlest Pet Shop 3: Biggest Stage (you had the Pink edition), Tinkerbell and the Lost Treasure, and Zoobles! Spring to Life!. And of course, there was Look Book, which you never played as a kid, but you were glad to have found in your young adult life.
You and Ren even talked about saving up together to buy a Wii console for each of you to share custody over in your apartments. Perhaps making a friend that was just as disgustingly into old video games wasn’t good for either of your spending habits. But hey, at least you weren’t spending money doing crack.
Maybe all of this reminiscing was a sign to call your parents soon.
You made a mental note to do so when it wasn’t close to their bedtimes. You couldn’t wait until you finished with your finals and you could go home again. It’s been a long and stressful semester, and you haven’t seen them since Spring Break. It’d be nice to go home with your childhood friends and family. You just knew that your friends had so much to say about what’s new in their lives. You lived a far more boring life than them, after all. Even if you were roommates with a gorgeous model.
Her pool invite was tomorrow. At first, you were pretty intimidated being seen in public wearing fewer clothes next to a literal model. However, your insecurities were put aside in your head when you remembered what Kiyoshi had let slip earlier. Vivienne was going through a rough time, and here you were bitching about not looking as attractive as her? You had to get your priorities straight and focus on showing up for her.
That was part of the reason why you were indulging in this self care night. Moments alone were your forte, and you thought that by lounging with your thoughts, you would be able to gain a bit more clarity. So far, it’s been helpful, though it’s no surprise just how far your thoughts have gone. Hanging out with her should be fun. She was even thoughtful enough to plan it later in the day so that less people would be around for the both of you.
And there was going to be drinks involved or whatever.
You snapped out of your miniature mental tangent and tuned back into your show. You still had around ten more minutes with your face mask on, but knowing yourself, you’d probably have it on for an extra twenty. You wrapped the fuzzy bathrobe tighter over yourself, and continued eating your dinner for the night. Pleasantly alone with your thoughts.
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It’s a new day of staring at a half finished Word document with an abandoned mouse beside your computer. You had a nice flow of work a couple minutes ago, but it all fell flat when you tried to find a better word for “illustrates,” ultimately ending up with your phone in your hand and a scrolling thumb. You put your phone down finally when Ren sent you a photo of a running horse with the caption, “Never give up fat loser girl.”
The essay is not even that hard to do. You have all the necessary art pieces already picked out and you only need to explain their religious context, which is as easy as any other analysis question. It’s just that, sometimes, you want to grab your brain, pluck it out of your head, and set it inside a cryostasis chamber for you to not think about for a couple of hours.
You closed the Word tab before you could convince yourself to keep working. It wasn’t happening today.
Just as you were going to shut down your computer and maybe relax the rest of the day, your eye caught onto the MirandaPet app.
“… Not only does using the app summon me and my services, but my app is also designed like a typical tamagotchi. You can feed me a variety of different foods, dress me up in different unlockable clothing the more your to-do list gets completed, and finally customize my bedroom…”
Perhaps you should actually use some of the features advertised in her app. It’ll help increase Miranda and Milan’s favorability levels, and you certainly wouldn’t mind seeing them show up on your computer more often.
You open the app and instantly you’re greeted with Miranda’s face. Her sprite looks you up and down before sighing. “About time. Come on in.”
Miranda stays on the pedestal of the boutique reading through her copy of a look book. You look through the options on her right to hopefully please her. You decide to start off easy and click the food icon. Since you don’t have much unlocked, you can only feed her one of three things: a strawberry soft cream cake (which you know Milan prefers, so you opt to save that for when he wants it), minestrone, and tonkatsu. She definitely looks like she watches her figure, so maybe she’ll like something with primarily vegetables? You know Vivienne talks about some of her managers also going through her diet to help newer models ease into it.
You click and drag the minestrone to her and watch as she inspects it first before eating it elegantly. “Hm… it suffices. Would’ve been nice to have something to drink with it.”
Right.
You open another tab to access the drinks menu. Unsurprisingly, there are only three unlocked options available: a strawberry-banana smoothie, green tea, or sparkling water. If she had just eaten a hot soup, it would probably be wise not to give her something hot to drink, too. Alongside green tea being cut, you also removed a smoothie from your list being that she already ate something filling, and she’d probably want something simpler. You drag the sparkling water towards her and watch as she drinks it.
“Packaged. Might as well just give me a Crystal Light packet and tell me to make it myself. Still… I guess it still works.”
Your lips curl into a small smile. That was maybe the first kinda-compliment she has ever given you. Hopefully it would be enough to curry favor with the two.
Miranda wipes her lips daintily with a small napkin. She puts it away and regards you with another block of text in her speech bubble.
“Oh. Still here. Well, since you for sure don’t have anything better to do, my app offers games for us to play, ah… together. If you’d like to see more, click on the button with the controller icon on the top right of the screen,” explained Miranda, pointing her finger to the right of the screen. She then goes right back to reading through her look book copy.
It was only around 11am. You were getting a little annoyed with how many times Miranda had proven how much of a loser you are. All you did was give her food and water and she still found fault in your choices? However, you had to admit, you really loved seeing her be so in character. Her rudeness reminds you every time why you downloaded this extension to begin with.
You click the icon and a menu with three selections pop up.
▶︎ MAKEOVER MAYHEM! Keep your hands steady and focus your artistic eyes! Follow a photograph’s reference to do Miranda’s makeup as accurately as possible! One wrong move and it’ll send your points tanking!
▶︎ RACE TO THE RUNWAY! Roll those dress pants and get to work! Compose and complete a model’s look according to the gala’s theme before the timer hits 0! Be prepared! Miranda will not judge nicely!
▶︎ FASHION 101! Center your brain to the Dolce-Gabbana’s and Rococo gowns of the world! Be quizzed in various fashion-related questions throughout history! Do well and manage to impress Miranda!
You read through each minigame’s description carefully. Each one definitely sounded like you would have a lot of fun with them. There were only three of them, so you assumed that these were the only completed minigames the developer made. You wondered if there was ever more planned and what they could’ve been.
You were really compelled by the middle option, Race to the Runway. It was very similar to how the original Look Book game functioned, just without the timer. The description of the minigame mentioned a model, so would that mean there would be clients from the original game to act as your model? You already knew Miranda wouldn’t be one, since she is the one judging your look. You hoped maybe they’d bring out some of your favorite clients like Kailani and Pippa. They were really cute and you loved their routes equally.
There was only one way to find out.
Click!
▶︎ RACE TO THE RUNWAY!
Your UI on the right disappears while the boutique adjusts to place the pedestal on the middle of the screen rather than the left. Miranda steps away from the platform and in her place appears—
“Milan?” You speak out loud in your room before you can stop yourself.
Milan’s detailed sprite stands on the pedestal in a far too simple T-shirt and jeans medley. He nods at the screen before a speech bubble appears by his side.
“Look like you’ll be dressing me, principessa. Put me in polyester and I’ll be sure that bar never budges.”
Milan points upwards to the top of the screen, where a happiness level bar sits. You did watch it appear when the environment was being set up for the minigame, so you assumed that it would be important to the game. Perhaps the goal of it is to fill it up all the way, as currently, it is completely empty.
Miranda’s pet version appears in the corner of the screen. You can see a subtle scowl on her less detailed face before she speaks through her bubble. “Ugh… of all things, this app had to include him.”
Milan’s eyebrows raise upwards before he responds. “Oh. Because I’m sure she can handle Queen Hot Shit for hours on end. Do you even try to make yourself likeable?”
Miranda’s sprite immediately seems to flare up in annoyance. She moves closer for a half second only to flip her hair in his face. “I have my opinions, but I can’t fault her impeccable taste in favoring me. Hear that? Me. I suppose you’ll have to settle for second place. Again.”
“Miranda,” scolds Milan in his speech bubble, his pained eyes glaring directly at her through his thin glasses. “Just explain. The goddamn. Game.”
Miranda’s sprite turns back to face you, as though suddenly remembering where she was. “… Right. Well, TurtleWithALiveJournal, listen closely, because I’m only explaining this once.”
Miranda’s sprite moves to sit down on the corner of the screen. Her speech bubbles with the game’s explanation keep appearing above her.
“I will give you a random theme to follow and you will have to make an outfit for… him… that follows it. More clothing items will be available to you so that you have a fair chance. I will not keep these unlocked after the minigame, so don’t whine to me about it. You will have 3 minutes. Be sure to finish on time for me to judge your choice. Your final score I give you is the doubled amount being that both me and Milan are present for this game. Fail and I’ll ruin you. Ready?”
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
▶︎ Can you explain that again?
You smirk. You knew you had all your points on the line to try and impress these two, but your playfulness just couldn’t be held back.
▶︎ Can you explain that again?
Miranda’s face sprite scrunches up. She did not like that.
“Oh. So now we’re choosing to be incompetent. I know you heard me. And I know you absolutely deserve this.”
You watch with relieved curiosity and pained despair as the happiness level bar above Milan depletes outside of the bar, giving you negative points.
Milan shakes his head at you. His speech bubble appears beside him. “Principessa, you should know that she can’t understand a joke.”
Miranda’s sprite looks livid, but she doesn’t say anything back. Your dialogue options appear before you once again. You may have ruined your chances at getting positive points back, but hey, at least you got more dialogue!
You click on the “Yes” button, as now you are ready to play their game.
▶︎ Yes
“Wonderful,” Miranda states in her bubble. “Then we begin. Your theme is Poiret: King of Fashion. Your time begins now.”
A small countdown appears at the top middle of your screen while Miranda disappears from the app completely. You immediately spiral when it’s just you and Milan. What kind of theme was that?! You had no idea who or what she was talking about. You frantically opened another tab to search up the theme. Milan’s speech bubble appeared while you were searching.
“Relax, principessa. I’m sure Miranda will give you a grace period. Hasn’t she always been so kind and thoughtful?” said Milan, his smug smirk taunting you.
You finally managed to get some references of Poiret’s fashion and hold the tab beside MirandaPet's tab. Like a crazed woman in a JCPenny in the 2000’s, you searched for anything that was close to the reference image you had to put on to Milan. You already only had two minutes and fifteen seconds left.
You chose a piece called “Opera Gown,” and from the description you skimmed over, it was intended to look like a kimono to break through European conventions of using corsets to frame the figure. Because of that, you chose the closest thing that looked like it—the kimono option.
Milan observed himself in the new article of clothing. “I hope I don’t need to remind you that Poiret is French and not Japanese, right?”
“Shut up,” you find yourself muttering while working. You know he definitely knows what you’re going for. He’s just trying to throw you off to ensure a poor grade.
Thankfully, you could choose from five selections to change the pattern design of the kimono. You choose the one with the golden embroidery that was close to the photo, aside from its subtle green vine motifs. You spotted a short overcoat and changed it to a black color, as it didn’t offer any diverse patterns.
Miranda’s speech bubble appeared in the bottom right. “One minute remaining!”
Your stress immediately skyrocketed. You quickly put on some dress shoes and low socks for Milan. You want to scold yourself when they basically do not change from his original design. Luckily, someone already does.
“TurtleWithALiveJournal, I’m not letting you embarrass me by keeping me in those,” scolds Milan in his speech bubble. “I’m not a loser that wears a suit at every gala regardless of the theme. Don’t worry. I’ll choose for you.”
Milan smirks at you and before you can stop it, his nice dress shoes change to beach sandals. You stare at the choice in horror and immediately try to put him in different shoes. Nothing works. Miranda was going to kill you.
“Principessa, calm down,” said Milan’s speech bubble “It could’ve been worse. Unfortunately, there is no option here for me to be completely barefoot.”
A red and white polka-dotted speech bubble appears on the bottom right of your screen. “Fifteen seconds!”
You quickly skip to the accessories category and try to find anything else to add for Milan. Your eyes skim through each article with the practiced speed of a student in Dr. Allison’s class. Still, nothing feels like it’d fit Milan’s current outfit. Less is more, right? You put your hand off the mouse and watch as the timer runs out.
The menu on your right slides off to the right and Miranda appears in its place. She assesses Milan silently while he poses for her. He moves in a relaxed yet confident manner with his eyes looking at Miranda almost challengingly. Miranda glares back at him for a second before speaking in her bubble.
“Your main choice fits the theme,” starts Miranda. “But where are the accessories? You have antique jewelry and headpieces from the Middle East, anything would have worked for Poiret. Did you really think a simple robe was going to be enough? And what the hell are those shoes??”
Milan’s sprite appears to laugh before responding. “Truly what was she thinking?”
You stare at the screen silently with anger brewing in your heart. You were so going to find a way to get back at Milan. Even if it meant breaking his coding.
Miranda’s sprite appears to write in her book while she continues speaking in her speech bubble. “Aside from those flaws… I suppose you did fine for your first attempt. You didn’t just put him in a black suit and call it a day. You will score… 60 points.”
You watched the happiness level bar above Milan fill up from where it was in the negatives and sit at the halfway mark. 50 points! That was far more than you thought you’d get for this minigame.
… Wait, if that total score is meant to be the total doubled amount from both of them, does that mean—?
A pop-up appeared before you, reading:
Try Again?
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
You had just about enough of that minigame for now.
▶︎ No
The boutique cleared up back to its original state. Milan changed back to his original clothing in a second and waved goodbye to you. A speech bubble appeared beside him before he was fully gone.
“Be seeing you, principessa.”
With Milan gone, Miranda took back her spot on the pedestal. You had your home menu back on the right of your screen with Miranda looking back at you expectantly. Before you could check out another minigame, your ringtone blared out from your bed. Right. You had your ringer on because you were testing out different cuter ringtones and forgot to turn it back off.
You got up from your desk and picked up your phone, curious to know who was calling you. You picked up and held your phone to your ear.
“Hello?” You greeted. You heard the person respond back to you.
“Oh! Hi Kiyoshi!”
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© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models
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☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter06
header photo © 2012 Nintendo Style Savvy: Trendsetters
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It’s a new day of staring at a half finished Word document with an abandoned mouse beside your computer. You had a nice flow of work a couple minutes ago, but it all fell flat when you tried to find a better word for “illustrates,” ultimately ending up with your phone in your hand and a scrolling thumb. You put your phone down finally when Ren sent you a photo of a running horse with the caption, “Never give up fat loser girl.”
The essay is not even that hard to do. You have all the necessary art pieces already picked out and you only need to explain their religious context, which is as easy as any other analysis question. It’s just that, sometimes, you want to grab your brain, pluck it out of your head, and set it inside a cryostasis chamber for you to not think about for a couple of hours.
You closed the Word tab before you could convince yourself to keep working. It wasn’t happening today.
Just as you were going to shut down your computer and maybe relax the rest of the day, your eye caught onto the MirandaPet app.
“… Not only does using the app summon me and my services, but my app is also designed like a typical tamagotchi. You can feed me a variety of different foods, dress me up in different unlockable clothing the more your to-do list gets completed, and finally customize my bedroom…”
Perhaps you should actually use some of the features advertised in her app. It’ll help increase Miranda and Milan’s favorability levels, and you certainly wouldn’t mind seeing them show up on your computer more often.
You open the app and instantly you’re greeted with Miranda’s face. Her sprite looks you up and down before sighing. “About time. Come on in.”
Miranda stays on the pedestal of the boutique reading through her copy of a look book. You look through the options on her right to hopefully please her. You decide to start off easy and click the food icon. Since you don’t have much unlocked, you can only feed her one of three things: a strawberry soft cream cake (which you know Milan prefers, so you opt to save that for when he wants it), minestrone, and tonkatsu. She definitely looks like she watches her figure, so maybe she’ll like something with primarily vegetables? You know Vivienne talks about some of her managers also going through her diet to help newer models ease into it.
You click and drag the minestrone to her and watch as she inspects it first before eating it elegantly. “Hm… it suffices. Would’ve been nice to have something to drink with it.”
Right.
You open another tab to access the drinks menu. Unsurprisingly, there are only three unlocked options available: a strawberry-banana smoothie, green tea, or sparkling water. If she had just eaten a hot soup, it would probably be wise not to give her something hot to drink, too. Alongside green tea being cut, you also removed a smoothie from your list being that she already ate something filling, and she’d probably want something simpler. You drag the sparkling water towards her and watch as she drinks it.
“Packaged. Might as well just give me a Crystal Light packet and tell me to make it myself. Still… I guess it still works.”
Your lips curl into a small smile. That was maybe the first kinda-compliment she has ever given you. Hopefully it would be enough to curry favor with the two.
Miranda wipes her lips daintily with a small napkin. She puts it away and regards you with another block of text in her speech bubble.
“Oh. Still here. Well, since you for sure don’t have anything better to do, my app offers games for us to play, ah… together. If you’d like to see more, click on the button with the controller icon on the top right of the screen,” explained Miranda, pointing her finger to the right of the screen. She then goes right back to reading through her look book copy.
It was only around 11am. You were getting a little annoyed with how many times Miranda had proven how much of a loser you are. All you did was give her food and water and she still found fault in your choices? However, you had to admit, you really loved seeing her be so in character. Her rudeness reminds you every time why you downloaded this extension to begin with.
You click the icon and a menu with three selections pop up.
▶︎ MAKEOVER MAYHEM! Keep your hands steady and focus your artistic eyes! Follow a photograph’s reference to do Miranda’s makeup as accurately as possible! One wrong move and it’ll send your points tanking!
▶︎ RACE TO THE RUNWAY! Roll those dress pants and get to work! Compose and complete a model’s look according to the gala’s theme before the timer hits 0! Be prepared! Miranda will not judge nicely!
▶︎ FASHION 101! Center your brain to the Dolce-Gabbana’s and Rococo gowns of the world! Be quizzed in various fashion-related questions throughout history! Do well and manage to impress Miranda!
You read through each minigame’s description carefully. Each one definitely sounded like you would have a lot of fun with them. There were only three of them, so you assumed that these were the only completed minigames the developer made. You wondered if there was ever more planned and what they could’ve been.
You were really compelled by the middle option, Race to the Runway. It was very similar to how the original Look Book game functioned, just without the timer. The description of the minigame mentioned a model, so would that mean there would be clients from the original game to act as your model? You already knew Miranda wouldn’t be one, since she is the one judging your look. You hoped maybe they’d bring out some of your favorite clients like Kailani and Pippa. They were really cute and you loved their routes equally.
There was only one way to find out.
Click!
▶︎ RACE TO THE RUNWAY!
Your UI on the right disappears while the boutique adjusts to place the pedestal on the middle of the screen rather than the left. Miranda steps away from the platform and in her place appears—
“Milan?” You speak out loud in your room before you can stop yourself.
Milan’s detailed sprite stands on the pedestal in a far too simple T-shirt and jeans medley. He nods at the screen before a speech bubble appears by his side.
“Look like you’ll be dressing me, principessa. Put me in polyester and I’ll be sure that bar never budges.”
Milan points upwards to the top of the screen, where a happiness level bar sits. You did watch it appear when the environment was being set up for the minigame, so you assumed that it would be important to the game. Perhaps the goal of it is to fill it up all the way, as currently, it is completely empty.
Miranda’s pet version appears in the corner of the screen. You can see a subtle scowl on her less detailed face before she speaks through her bubble. “Ugh… of all things, this app had to include him.”
Milan’s eyebrows raise upwards before he responds. “Oh. Because I’m sure she can handle Queen Hot Shit for hours on end. Do you even try to make yourself likeable?”
Miranda’s sprite immediately seems to flare up in annoyance. She moves closer for a half second only to flip her hair in his face. “I have my opinions, but I can’t fault her impeccable taste in favoring me. Hear that? Me. I suppose you’ll have to settle for second place. Again.”
“Miranda,” scolds Milan in his speech bubble, his pained eyes glaring directly at her through his thin glasses. “Just explain. The goddamn. Game.”
Miranda’s sprite turns back to face you, as though suddenly remembering where she was. “… Right. Well, TurtleWithALiveJournal, listen closely, because I’m only explaining this once.”
Miranda’s sprite moves to sit down on the corner of the screen. Her speech bubbles with the game’s explanation keep appearing above her.
“I will give you a random theme to follow and you will have to make an outfit for… him… that follows it. More clothing items will be available to you so that you have a fair chance. I will not keep these unlocked after the minigame, so don’t whine to me about it. You will have 3 minutes. Be sure to finish on time for me to judge your choice. Your final score I give you is the doubled amount being that both me and Milan are present for this game. Fail and I’ll ruin you. Ready?”
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
▶︎ Can you explain that again?
You smirk. You knew you had all your points on the line to try and impress these two, but your playfulness just couldn’t be held back.
▶︎ Can you explain that again?
Miranda’s face sprite scrunches up. She did not like that.
“Oh. So now we’re choosing to be incompetent. I know you heard me. And I know you absolutely deserve this.”
You watch with relieved curiosity and pained despair as the happiness level bar above Milan depletes outside of the bar, giving you negative points.
Milan shakes his head at you. His speech bubble appears beside him. “Principessa, you should know that she can’t understand a joke.”
Miranda’s sprite looks livid, but she doesn’t say anything back. Your dialogue options appear before you once again. You may have ruined your chances at getting positive points back, but hey, at least you got more dialogue!
You click on the “Yes” button, as now you are ready to play their game.
▶︎ Yes
“Wonderful,” Miranda states in her bubble. “Then we begin. Your theme is Poiret: King of Fashion. Your time begins now.”
A small countdown appears at the top middle of your screen while Miranda disappears from the app completely. You immediately spiral when it’s just you and Milan. What kind of theme was that?! You had no idea who or what she was talking about. You frantically opened another tab to search up the theme. Milan’s speech bubble appeared while you were searching.
“Relax, principessa. I’m sure Miranda will give you a grace period. Hasn’t she always been so kind and thoughtful?” said Milan, his smug smirk taunting you.
You finally managed to get some references of Poiret’s fashion and hold the tab beside MirandaPet's tab. Like a crazed woman in a JCPenny in the 2000’s, you searched for anything that was close to the reference image you had to put on to Milan. You already only had two minutes and fifteen seconds left.
You chose a piece called “Opera Coat,” and from the description you skimmed over, it was intended to look like a kimono to break through European conventions of using corsets to frame the figure. Because of that, you chose the closest thing that looked like it—the kimono option.
Milan observed himself in the new article of clothing. “I hope I don’t need to remind you that Poiret is French and not Japanese, right?”
“Shut up,” you find yourself muttering while working. You know he definitely knows what you’re going for. He’s just trying to throw you off to ensure a poor grade.
Thankfully, you could choose from five selections to change the pattern design of the kimono. You choose the one with the golden embroidery that was close to the photo, aside from its subtle green vine motifs. You spotted a short overcoat and changed it to a black color, as it didn’t offer any diverse patterns.
Miranda’s speech bubble appeared in the bottom right. “One minute remaining!”
Your stress immediately skyrocketed. You quickly put on some dress shoes and low socks for Milan. You want to scold yourself when they basically do not change from his original design. Luckily, someone already does.
“TurtleWithALiveJournal, I’m not letting you embarrass me by keeping me in those,” scolds Milan in his speech bubble. “I’m not a loser that wears a suit at every gala regardless of the theme. Don’t worry. I’ll choose for you.”
Milan smirks at you and before you can stop it, his nice dress shoes change to beach sandals. You stare at the choice in horror and immediately try to put him in different shoes. Nothing works. Miranda was going to kill you.
“Principessa, calm down,” said Milan’s speech bubble “It could’ve been worse. Unfortunately, there is no option here for me to be completely barefoot.”
A red and white polka-dotted speech bubble appears on the bottom right of your screen. “Fifteen seconds!”
You quickly skip to the accessories category and try to find anything else to add for Milan. Your eyes skim through each article with the practiced speed of a student in Dr. Allison’s class. Still, nothing feels like it’d fit Milan’s current outfit. Less is more, right? You put your hand off the mouse and watch as the timer runs out.
The menu on your right slides off to the right and Miranda appears in its place. She assesses Milan silently while he poses for her. He moves in a relaxed yet confident manner with his eyes looking at Miranda almost challengingly. Miranda glares back at him for a second before speaking in her bubble.
“Your main choice fits the theme,” starts Miranda. “But where are the accessories? You have antique jewelry and headpieces from the Middle East, anything would have worked for Poiret. Did you really think a simple robe was going to be enough? And what the hell are those shoes??”
Milan’s sprite appears to laugh before responding. “Truly what was she thinking?”
You stare at the screen silently with anger brewing in your heart. You were so going to find a way to get back at Milan. Even if it meant breaking his coding.
Miranda’s sprite appears to write in her book while she continues speaking in her speech bubble. “Aside from those flaws… I suppose you did fine for your first attempt. You didn’t just put him in a black suit and call it a day. You will score… 60 points.”
You watched the happiness level bar above Milan fill up from where it was in the negatives and sit at the halfway mark. 50 points! That was far more than you thought you’d get for this minigame.
… Wait, if that total score is meant to be the total doubled amount from both of them, does that mean—?
A pop-up appeared before you, reading:
Try Again?
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
You had just about enough of that minigame for now.
▶︎ No
The boutique cleared up back to its original state. Milan changed back to his original clothing in a second and waved goodbye to you. A speech bubble appeared beside him before he was fully gone.
“Be seeing you, principessa.”
With Milan gone, Miranda took back her spot on the pedestal. You had your home menu back on the right of your screen with Miranda looking back at you expectantly. Before you could check out another minigame, your ringtone blared out from your bed. Right. You had your ringer on because you were testing out different cuter ringtones and forgot to turn it back off.
You got up from your desk and picked up your phone, curious to know who was calling you. You picked up and held your phone to your ear.
“Hello?” You greeted. You heard the person respond back to you.
“Oh! Hi Kiyoshi!”
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© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models
☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter05
header photo © 2012 Nintendo Style Savvy: Trendsetters
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You usually soaked up every word out of Dr. Alison’s mouth in her lectures. She taught a humanities course on Chinese Art History; however, you struggled immensely to keep up with her quick teaching style. She goes through her slides quickly, easily gets sidetracked, grades harshly—the whole package. The passing grade that you had in that class was well earned but difficult to maintain.
And of course, this class, a minuscule yet required puzzle piece to your graduation plan, was the one with the essay you were killing yourself over.
You were attentive in class in the past. Currently, you were a bit sidetracked with a long thread of tweets from a certain creator.
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“MILAN BERRY. The original concept for Miranda Berry before her release. All known History and Facts”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“He was intended to be quietly analytical and perceptive, yet still maintaining a sharp-witted and combative side.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“Milan was going to have a graphic novel release that featured how he rose to stardom in Italy.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“His base-level programming made him much easier to please. Due to this, the developers increased his mood levels to the way Miranda’s are currently to keep customers hooked.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“Developers made him male before beta players commented that no girl would play a fashion game with a male fashionista as its judge.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“It is speculated that before the developers fully scrapped him, some workers had grown attached to Milan and wanted to keep him as Miranda’s twin brother. He would visit the boutique occasionally as a second judge on special events. The idea was scrapped as well due to not having enough time to plan & code these events, and Milan was never canonized as Miranda’s brother.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“This is more a Look Book fact, but there was originally a feature that including a “secret” dating system that only worked if you followed specific steps. You could date and marry up to 5 clients that frequented your boutique. When Milan was added, he was added into the list of dateables with his route titled ‘My Two Weeks Notice.’”
Your other tabs were open with concept sketches, early released demos with Milan Berry, and other miscellaneous things all posted under the same user. Whoever they were, they were deep into the Look Book history in a way you could have never imagined. Or, were, you suppose. These posts were years ago and the user had moved on since then.
You scrolled on your trackpad through all the different comments from the creator’s followers. Some pointed out other fun facts from his development that weren’t mentioned by the original poster. Things like his secret affinity for French pastries and his scrapped idea for a potential Portuguese girlfriend that was also a VIP client were thrown around in the comments. You tried looking into this girlfriend, but quickly found that the only source for it was a fanart of Milan and someone on DeviantArt’s fanmade character beside each other.
You continued scrolling through the creator’s page during your lecture. You read through numerous progress reports on the desktop pet and screenshots of coding and animations. It was heartwarming to see all the thought and care that went into creating this little fanmade creation that took years of hard work. You hoped the absolute best for the creator, even if this project has long since been behind them now.
Imagine your shock when your sentimental thoughts are sharply interrupted by a striped speech bubble.
“Wow! I did not know that you were so obsessed with me, principessa!”
The bubble left as quickly as it came, but it scared you all the same. You slammed your laptop shut in your shock, nearly breaking it off its hinges. People’s heads’ turned sharply towards you, wondering why somebody jolted so hard in the middle of a boring lecture. You were lucky that Dr. Alison continued droning on rather than yell at you.
You took steady breaths to calm yourself before slowly opening your laptop again. You minimized your tab and, sure enough, you didn’t see a desktop pet version of Milan or Miranda anywhere in your screen. It was like you had just imagined seeing the speech bubble entirely.
While your mind struggled to figure out if what you saw was real or not, another blue-and-white striped bubble appeared.
“I see that you have Canvas open—and ignored—in another tab. Cease your lovely curiosities about me and focus on your lecture, darling.”
The bubble stayed for around six seconds before it disappeared. There was no desktop pet that came with it yet again.
You weren’t too worried about the assumption that you were in class, since Milan’s bubble told you that it saw Canvas in your tablist and he has access to your calendar. Still, your breathing was a bit erratic from your initial panic. How did he know you were reading about him? You weren’t reading a specific webpage made about him that he could read the URL of. You were reading social media posts with the only clue being the username of its creator.
Perhaps it recognized its creator’s username in the URL and assumed you were reading about him? You were… oddly soothed by that conclusion. It definitely made sense to you, and you have seen it before in different games where the creator can interact with their own characters. The user definitely just wanted something fun to be mentioned when their name was mentioned.
You turned to your open notebook with disregarded notes sitting beside your laptop, untouched after you fell into your rabbit hole. Dr. Alison was still going through the new schools of Buddhism that were introduced into China in the early common era. You could see various heads in front of you struggling to stay up and alert.
Perhaps Milan was right. Unfortunately. You couldn’t keep letting this cluster of code invade your mind like this. You had important schoolwork, and a lot of catching up on a forgotten lecture to do. You had to focus on what was important: getting a high grade on your essay.
You brandished your pen and highlighter, and got to work with fifteen minutes left of the class.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
The scent of a fresh shower is what greets you when you enter your apartment after class.
Vivienne had told you before you left that she was going out with her friends. The scent of a floral shampoo wafting over the kitchen confirmed to you that her outing must’ve been long and sweaty. You take your shoes off by the door and enter fully inside your living space. You put your things down in your room first before returning to the living area.
Just as you were preparing yourself something to eat, the sound of a door opening snapped you out of the background video you were playing on your TV. Your roommate emerges from her bedroom and looks you up and down. You lower the volume of your TV to hear her better when she speaks.
“I still have the eye bag treatment moisturizer in my bathroom.”
You roll your eyes. “What if I’m starting a new beauty trend? Smoky undereyes. I think it could be big.”
Vivienne’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I would know first if there was a new trend.”
“C’mon,” you whined. “Couldn’t you at least play along for a bit?”
“No,” Vivienne curtly responded. “You need more sleep. That essay is not going to grow wings and fly away, you know.”
Your movements falter slightly while you're making food. Your eyes look up to the dry-erase calendar that you and Vivienne have for planning dinners. It taunts you with the deadline you wrote on it with three stars around it. Your eyebrows furrow, dread pooling in your gut. “It kinda feels like it is, though.”
Vivienne stays still by her doorway for a couple of moments. You could hear slippers sliding on the floor, slowly getting closer to you until they stopped on your right. When you look back at her face, she offers you a small—and very rare—encouraging smile.
“Maybe you should go to the building’s pool with me later in the week. The sun will do you good and you can relax a bit.”
You look back at her soft eyes. An offer like that was something you would usually decline because of some dumb reason like not wanting attention on yourself. But now? You find yourself persuaded by Vivienne’s attempt to soothe your worries. It’s not like she’s the rudest person ever by a long shot, but it’s rare to see her focus on something, or someone, that isn’t work related. You smile back at her.
“Yeah. That sounds really fun. Wanna drink there, too? I know we have some beers in our fridge from when Ren came over.”
Your roommate scowls immediately and intensely. “Ew. No. I bought vodka sodas earlier today.”
Your eyes crinkle as you chuckle. “Cool. Let me know when you go, kay?”
Vivienne smiles back at you. “I will.”
You feel your roommate’s hair brush against your arm as she turns away from you to open the fridge. Before you can solely refocus on your unfinished meal, she speaks up. “Also tell Ren to lay off. He keeps taking you away from me and our dinners.”
You bump into Vivienne playfully. “You know you’re still my number one.”
“Right. And that professor guy?”
“I have two hands,” you respond cheekily.
It’s Vivienne’s turn to bump into you this time. She also shuts the fridge door with her hip after she gets her smoothie from it. “I’ll forgive you if you remember to clean the filter in the washing machines after you use it.”
Your scoff could’ve been heard from the other side of the globe. “The apartment isn’t going to set on fire if I don’t do it one time.”
“One time every time!”
“You use it after me anyway!” You cried out in your own defense. “What’s three more loads?”
Vivienne rolls her eyes and holds out her smoothie at you like she would an accusatory finger. “When my clothes don’t dry within the first cycle, I blame you.”
“Be my guest. I’m sure you know all about that anyway, Frenchie.”
Vivienne can’t help but laugh alongside you. She swipes some of your food before sitting down on the stool seat of the kitchen, chatting amicably while you finish making your food. You find it very easy to smile when you’re around her.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
Within another room, a charging laptop sits on a desk. A little white light on the power button reflects onto the laptop’s half-mast screen. The screen shines dully with a user’s profile in the middle, asking for a password.
Inside the computer is a program working in the background. Reading calendar dates, analyzing a document saved onto the Downloads folder, all with meticulous precision. The program loiters before one event. An event that had already transpired and should have been marked complete in its memory, but remained lingering.
Library w/ Ren
And earlier within its memory:
TurtleWithALiveJournal
Female (she/her)
Above (18+)
The program had seen the events, but weren’t there all the same. The program was not made to feel, though its wiring ordered it to annoyance. It could have referred to the other, but programs were not meant to deviate towards others. The program would work for its own answers. The program would be its best version because it needed to be.
Looking inside, a line of text stood out amongst all the various coding inputs of the program. Text that would determine its usage to its user.
7 PTS
The program would not know what this text truly meant. The program was not made to think and learn, but to repeat. To recite. To echo words it’s been told. To mimic another being.
The program was made to be efficient. And efficient was what it would be.
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© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models
ᰔ taglist: @ghost-noodles
☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter05
header photo © 2012 Nintendo Style Savvy: Trendsetters
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You usually soaked up every word out of Dr. Alison’s mouth in her lectures. She taught a humanities course on Chinese Art History; however, you struggled immensely to keep up with her quick teaching style. She goes through her slides quickly, easily gets sidetracked, grades harshly—the whole package. The passing grade that you had in that class was well earned but difficult to maintain.
And of course, this class, a minuscule yet required puzzle piece to your graduation plan, was the one with the essay you were killing yourself over.
You were attentive in class in the past. Currently, you were a bit sidetracked with a long thread of tweets from a certain creator.
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“MILAN BERRY. The original concept for Miranda Berry before her release. All known History and Facts”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“He was intended to be quietly analytical and perceptive, yet still maintaining a sharp-witted and combative side.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“Milan was going to have a graphic novel release that featured how he rose to stardom in Italy.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“His base-level programming made him much easier to please. Due to this, the developers increased his mood levels to the way Miranda’s are currently to keep customers hooked.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“Developers made him male before beta players commented that no girl would play a fashion game with a male fashionista as its judge.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“It is speculated that before the developers fully scrapped him, some workers had grown attached to Milan and wanted to keep him as Miranda’s twin brother. He would visit the boutique occasionally as a second judge on special events. The idea was scrapped as well due to not having enough time to plan & code these events, and Milan was never canonized as Miranda’s brother.”
@pinkaluchious • 6 yr ago
“This is more a Look Book fact, but there was originally a feature that including a “secret” dating system that only worked if you followed specific steps. You could date and marry up to 5 clients that frequented your boutique. When Milan was added, he was added into the list of dateables with his route titled ‘My Two Weeks Notice.’”
Your other tabs were open with concept sketches, early released demos with Milan Berry, and other miscellaneous things all posted under the same user. Whoever they were, they were deep into the Look Book history in a way you could have never imagined. Or, were, you suppose. These posts were years ago and the user had moved on since then.
You scrolled on your trackpad through all the different comments from the creator’s followers. Some pointed out other fun facts from his development that weren’t mentioned by the original poster. Things like his secret affinity for French pastries and his scrapped idea for a potential Portuguese girlfriend that was also a VIP client were thrown around in the comments. You tried looking into this girlfriend, but quickly found that the only source for it was a fanart of Milan and someone on DeviantArt’s fanmade character beside each other.
You continued scrolling through the creator’s page during your lecture. You read through numerous progress reports on the desktop pet and screenshots of coding and animations. It was heartwarming to see all the thought and care that went into creating this little fanmade creation that took years of hard work. You hoped the absolute best for the creator, even if this project has long since been behind them now.
Imagine your shock when your sentimental thoughts are sharply interrupted by a striped speech bubble.
“Wow! I did not know that you were so obsessed with me, principessa!”
The bubble left as quickly as it came, but it scared you all the same. You slammed your laptop shut in your shock, nearly breaking it off its hinges. People’s heads’ turned sharply towards you, wondering why somebody jolted so hard in the middle of a boring lecture. You were lucky that Dr. Alison continued droning on rather than yell at you.
You took steady breaths to calm yourself before slowly opening your laptop again. You minimized your tab and, sure enough, you didn’t see a desktop pet version of Milan or Miranda anywhere in your screen. It was like you had just imagined seeing the speech bubble entirely.
While your mind struggled to figure out if what you saw was real or not, another blue-and-white striped bubble appeared.
“I see that you have Canvas open—and ignored—in another tab. Cease your lovely curiosities about me and focus on your lecture, darling.”
The bubble stayed for around six seconds before it disappeared. There was no desktop pet that came with it yet again.
You weren’t too worried about the assumption that you were in class, since Milan’s bubble told you that it saw Canvas in your tablist and he has access to your calendar. Still, your breathing was a bit erratic from your initial panic. How did he know you were reading about him? You weren’t reading a specific webpage made about him that he could read the URL of. You were reading social media posts with the only clue being the username of its creator.
Perhaps it recognized its creator’s username in the URL and assumed you were reading about him? You were… oddly soothed by that conclusion. It definitely made sense to you, and you have seen it before in different games where the creator can interact with their own characters. The user definitely just wanted something fun to be mentioned when their name was mentioned.
You turned to your open notebook with disregarded notes sitting beside your laptop, untouched after you fell into your rabbit hole. Dr. Alison was still going through the new schools of Buddhism that were introduced into China in the early common era. You could see various heads in front of you struggling to stay up and alert.
Perhaps Milan was right. Unfortunately. You couldn’t keep letting this cluster of code invade your mind like this. You had important schoolwork, and a lot of catching up on a forgotten lecture to do. You had to focus on what was important: getting a high grade on your essay.
You brandished your pen and highlighter, and got to work with fifteen minutes left of the class.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
The scent of a fresh shower is what greets you when you enter your apartment after class.
Vivienne had told you before you left that she was going out with her friends. The scent of a floral shampoo wafting over the kitchen confirmed to you that her outing must’ve been long and sweaty. You take your shoes off by the door and enter fully inside your living space. You put your things down in your room first before returning to the living area.
Just as you were preparing yourself something to eat, the sound of a door opening snapped you out of the background video you were playing on your TV. Your roommate emerges from her bedroom and looks you up and down. You lower the volume of your TV to hear her better when she speaks.
“I still have the eye bag treatment moisturizer in my bathroom.”
You roll your eyes. “What if I’m starting a new beauty trend? Smoky undereyes. I think it could be big.”
Vivienne’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I would know first if there was a new trend.”
“C’mon,” you whined. “Couldn’t you at least play along for a bit?”
“No,” Vivienne curtly responded. “You need more sleep. That essay is not going to grow wings and fly away, you know.”
Your movements falter slightly while you're making food. Your eyes look up to the dry-erase calendar that you and Vivienne have for planning dinners. It taunts you with the deadline you wrote on it with three stars around it. Your eyebrows furrow, dread pooling in your gut. “It kinda feels like it is, though.”
Vivienne stays still by her doorway for a couple of moments. You could hear slippers sliding on the floor, slowly getting closer to you until they stopped on your right. When you look back at her face, she offers you a small—and very rare—encouraging smile.
“Maybe you should go to the building’s pool with me later in the week. The sun will do you good and you can relax a bit.”
You look back at her soft eyes. An offer like that was something you would usually decline because of some dumb reason like not wanting attention on yourself. But now? You find yourself persuaded by Vivienne’s attempt to soothe your worries. It’s not like she’s the rudest person ever by a long shot, but it’s rare to see her focus on something, or someone, that isn’t work related. You smile back at her.
“Yeah. That sounds really fun. Wanna drink there, too? I know we have some beers in our fridge from when Ren came over.”
Your roommate scowls immediately and intensely. “Ew. No. I bought vodka sodas earlier today.”
Your eyes crinkle as you chuckle. “Cool. Let me know when you go, kay?”
Vivienne smiles back at you. “I will.”
You feel your roommate’s hair brush against your arm as she turns away from you to open the fridge. Before you can solely refocus on your unfinished meal, she speaks up. “Also tell Ren to lay off. He keeps taking you away from me and our dinners.”
You bump into Vivienne playfully. “You know you’re still my number one.”
“Right. And that professor guy?”
“I have two hands,” you respond cheekily.
It’s Vivienne’s turn to bump into you this time. She also shuts the fridge door with her hip after she gets her smoothie from it. “I’ll forgive you if you remember to clean the filter in the washing machines after you use it.”
Your scoff could’ve been heard from the other side of the globe. “The apartment isn’t going to set on fire if I don’t do it one time.”
“One time every time!”
“You use it after me anyway!” You cried out in your own defense. “What’s three more loads?”
Vivienne rolls her eyes and holds out her smoothie at you like she would an accusatory finger. “When my clothes don’t dry within the first cycle, I blame you.”
“Be my guest. I’m sure you know all about that anyway, Frenchie.”
Vivienne can’t help but laugh alongside you. She swipes some of your food before sitting down on the stool seat of the kitchen, chatting amicably while you finish making your food. You find it very easy to smile when you’re around her.
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
Within another room, a charging laptop sits on a desk. A little white light on the power button reflects onto the laptop’s half-mast screen. The screen shines dully with a user’s profile in the middle, asking for a password.
Inside the computer is a program working in the background. Reading calendar dates, analyzing a document saved onto the Downloads folder, all with meticulous precision. The program loiters before one event. An event that had already transpired and should have been marked complete in its memory, but remained lingering.
Library w/ Ren
And earlier within its memory:
TurtleWithALiveJournal
Female (she/her)
Above (18+)
The program had seen the events, but weren’t there all the same. The program was not made to feel, though its wiring ordered it to annoyance. It could have referred to the other, but programs were not meant to deviate towards others. The program would work for its own answers. The program would be its best version because it needed to be.
Looking inside, a line of text stood out amongst all the various coding inputs of the program. Text that would determine its usage to its user.
7 PTS
The program would not know what this text truly meant. The program was not made to think and learn, but to repeat. To recite. To echo words it’s been told. To mimic another being.
The program was made to be efficient. And efficient was what it would be.
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You laid silently on your bed, playing with the strings of Ren’s hoodie. Your mini gaming session with him last night had been cut short after the both of you separated in game, not because the two of you hypothetically remembered you had classes the next morning, with Ren’s hypothetical class being an early 8am. However, you playing late didn’t matter much to you since your classes started late at 4pm the next day. You enjoyed the simple tasks you completed build your homestead, even if you were half awake.
However, you did find it interesting to see a familiar polka-dotted speech bubble appear on the right hand side of your screen while you were playing.
“An MMORPG? I knew you were a nerd, but I didn’t take you for that kind of nerd.”
Needless to say, the sudden commentary scared you out of Amelia’s task explanation. The weirdest thing to you was that when you tabbed out of the game to check on her, she was gone. Confused, you clicked on her app, only to see her appear again as though nothing had happened. She gave you one snide remark about talking to her so late in the night before returning back to her app after a couple of minutes of inactivity.
You looked it up later and only saw people say that it was odd for a desktop pet to not stay in the desktop screen constantly. When you found her creator’s page, you saw the following reply post tied to her original tweet about the desktop pet’s release.
@pinkaluchious • 5 yr ago
“Hey guys! I’ve had some people reach out wondering why Miranda wasn’t staying on screen constantly. That is simply because I wanted to keep her as in character as possible! Her AI works under a favoritability status, so if you’re at low points with her, she will stay outside for 0-4 minutes at a time per day, 5-10 minutes if medium points, 11-45 minutes if she likes you a lot, and forever if you reach the peak of her favorability score. I might, however, include a toggle setting in her app that keeps her outside the desktop no matter what if that’s popular. Thank you guys again for the overwhelming support on her release <3”
That seemed to answer your question on how she disappeared so fast. You were curious to find out about the toggle switch as well. Perhaps they went through with it and it was in the app?
Despite the creator’s words, something about Miranda’s commentary on your video game still felt off to you. For now, you opted to let it slide as a harmless feature of hers.
Currently, you have your laptop on your stomach in bed. You were staring at your desktop as though to see if you would catch her out-of-nowhere speech bubbles again. It was only around 5 minutes of watching and waiting for her to come out on her own, but it was enough to decide to take matters into your own hands. You clicked her app, but whom you were met with was certainly not Miranda.
“Good morning. I take it you were bored without me?”
You stared at the miniature sprite on the screen. No longer did it show a familiar fashionable girl with long red hair and sunglasses, but a stylish man leaning against your taskbar. His demeanor looked as though he had better things to do, similar to Miranda’s sprites. Conversely, his words weren’t in the red polka-dotted speech bubble you were familiar with, and instead were in a white and light blue-green striped pattern.
A pop-up appeared for you with three choices:
▶︎ Who are you?
▶︎ What happened to Miranda?
▶︎ (Move on)
You assumed that this choice system would work the same way as it did when you first met Miranda in that you could go back and click every response. You decide to click the first one.
▶︎ Who are you?
The man uses his digital hand to carefully adjust his perfectly styled red hair. When doing so, you also noticed that he didn’t have sunglasses like Miranda, but thin, frameless reading glasses that hung on his nose. He looked far more scholarly than prissy, though you know that wasn’t true because of his earlier greeting. His different speech bubble returns with his response.
“Have you been living under barnacles your whole life? Milan Berry, style expert. World-renowned editor of Look Book and heartthrob of Italy.”
That was interesting. His description was pretty much the same as Miranda’s, but his nationality was not. You knew for sure Miranda was American, even though the game Look Book took place in Paris, France. You wondered why the creator opted to make another version of Miranda’s character. A pop-up appears for you with more choices to ask him:
▶︎ And sweetheart of my computer.
▶︎ You look more like prime twink era Cristiano Ronaldo.
▶︎ Ew. Bring back Miranda.
You suddenly wished for a move on button to appear to your rescue.
You were going to choose the second option, but you suddenly remembered the creator’s explanation of Miranda’s favorability status. Did the same status apply to this Milan guy? Is he the same as Miranda or a separate character? Is it important for his favorability status to be high for him to like you?
Deciding to be safe, you move your finger on your trackpad to click the first option.
Click!
▶︎ You look more like prime twink era Cristiano Ronaldo.
Curse your slippery trackpad and your laziness to get your mouse from your desk.
You watched in bashful dread as Milan’s sprite slowly processed your choice. His expression changed to one of pompous indifference before rolling his eyes.
“Who do you think dressed him? Messi? His clothes would be tasteless without me.”
A small warning pop-up appears beside Milan’s face, though he doesn’t seem to notice. It reads:
“ ⓘ DISCLAIMER. Milan Berry did not style Cristiano Ronaldo in the 2000’s. Ronaldo dressed himself. “
You chuckled in amusement. For the first time, the creator had to intervene with MirandaPet’s (or is it now MilanPet’s?) dialogue. It humoured you that it was because they wanted to avoid a defamation lawsuit. Two choices appear again, though you were a bit bummed that it wasn’t the newest two you had just seen. The first question was gone as well, so you couldn’t go back on it. You only got one chance with them, and you already blew it with your slippery fingers.
You used your trackpad to carefully select the next button.
▶︎ What happened to Miranda?
“She’s right here,” responded Milan’s speech bubble. He gestured to himself. “Couldn’t you tell from our heartstopping appearances? We like to switch off now and then. Can’t expect one of us to stay with you constantly.”
A wave of relief fell over you now that you knew that Miranda was not gone forever. Although, you suppose that his response would require a bit of research on your end when this was over. You clicked the last one to continue speaking with Milan.
▶︎ (Move on)
Milan’s sprite walked down your taskbar until he reached the MirandaPet app.
“Wonderful. I see that you have only opened the app to summon Miranda, or in this case, me. Now, why don’t you follow me into this lovely app so that you can… actually use it?” Milan clicked open the app for you, which displayed a screen not unlike the Look Book boutique.
He moves to stand on the pedestal where mannequins usually stand for you with clothes you pick for clients. As soon as he does, his miniature sprite changes into a highly detailed illustration, kind of like it did for Miranda when you were planning your time with Ren. He looked just as beautiful as Miranda did, even with his pose being more relaxed than hers. He speaks again in a speech bubble while he fixes his already perfect hair yet again.
“I have not been given affections in two days. I feel the love, truly. Start by feeding me a slice of strawberry soft cream cake. You can find it in your inventory on the right side of the page.”
A white glow highlighted which button you needed to click. You moved your finger over and pressed on the inventory button, seeing a lone pixelated slice of cake sitting nicely in the space. Bit of a sweet tooth, you thought to yourself. You click on the cake and press the button to present it to him. He analyzes the cake like a food critic would before gracefully eating it. After a couple of seconds, he responds in a speech bubble.
“Not bad from a competitor country,” commented Milan while wiping his mouth with a napkin. “The bar above shows that my mood is down. Dear Miranda must’ve really not liked you. Compliments are more than welcome, In fact, I’d say they’re required.”
You could really tell that they were the same person now. Two options appeared in front of you. They read:
▶︎ You’re heavenly.
▶︎ You’re alright.
You wanted to be fun. You really did. However, you had an essay that needed the utmost upkeep, and you couldn’t risk Miranda giving up on you because you playfully neglected both of her sides.
▶︎ You’re heavenly.
Milan’s satisfaction bar goes up a bit. It isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to make a small difference.
Milan’s lips curl into a smug smile “Hm… that I am. You’ve pleased me enough, and I feel that I should finally try and get to know you better.”
The boutique room changes as Milan walks over one of those waiting couches guests sit on. He leans back against the couch, sitting comfortably while retaining poise. His speech bubble appears before you with a fill-in answer box for you to type in
“What is your name?”
Now.
You could put in your real name like a normal person, or you could put that name you put in for when you were playing Look Book on your DS. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard a bit before ultimately deciding to put your stupid name. They’d probably only call you “tasteless” or “classless” anyway.
▶︎ MegaCameLaude
Milan typed out your name again before responding to it.
”I would say it suits you, but I don’t know who you are or what you look like,” noted Milan. “Are you a principe or principessa? Or other, so I’ve learned.”
▶︎ Male (he/him)
▶︎ Female (she/her)
▶︎ Other (enter preference)
You stared at the options in front of you. You wondered if this behaved like other games in that each Miranda counterpart maybe has a secret preference for a certain gender. Most of the time, you liked playing as a guy in video games as you believed it was more fun and less stressful that way. However, you did secretly like the way “principessa” felt the most.
▶︎ Female (she/her)
Milan’s eyebrows raise up slightly. “A principessa? Really? Lovely to be acquainted. One final question, darling: who is R██—?”
Before you could read he had originally written, his words were quickly changed into another question. “Are you above or under 18 years of age?”
▶︎ Above (+18)
▶︎ Under (below 17)
You didn’t get to figure out what he had said at all earlier since the phrase came and went so fast. You could’ve sworn that you saw a big black censor block. Was this desktop pet secretly a horror game in disguise? You would’ve thought that there would be warnings before you downloaded it, but all you could see was “This desktop pet is not suitable for those that are sensitive to brats.” Maybe it was just a weird glitch. Your laptop probably did have a ton of viruses from downloading all those ROM hacks a year ago, anyway.
The current question on the screen did not bother you intensely because you assumed that it would dial down its cursing and other adult themes if you answered honestly. You used your finger on your trackpad to hover and eventually click the first option.
▶︎ Above (18+)
Milan smirks at you. “Wonderful, darling. That is all the questions I have for you today. I must retire here from this lovely, one-sided conversation and return to my work. These editorials are not at the place they need to be in at the moment. Was there anything else you wanted to use me for?”
▶︎ Yes
▶︎ No
You think over what you had just found out about the male counterpart of Miranda. He seemed pretty identical to her, though something about him was more… laidback? He seemed a lot more flirty with you, for lack of a better word. You wanted to learn more about him, though you figured that he wouldn’t give you any new information apart from how wonderful he was. Perhaps he would show up again pretty soon. You clicked on the second option.
▶︎ No
“Good,” affirmed Milan, his form already switching to the mini desktop version of himself with an editorial in his hand. “Then I will get to work. Do not bother me.”
MirandaPet closed its application on its own while Milan sat on the edge of your laptop’s taskbar. He used the editorial in his hands to write inside it, already “hard at work.” You let him be and shut your laptop closed.
You should eat breakfast.
You check your phone’s clock.
You should eat lunch.
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© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models
☁︎.. HTMLovers.com/chapter03
header photo © 2012 Nintendo Style Savvy: Trendsetters
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You spot Ren waving a hand over to you from where he’s seated in the library.
Before you arrived at the library to meet with Ren, you spent your day stressing about your essay and doing nothing about it. Other than that, you were also spending some time playing other modded games on your DS and scrolling through your phone. You even asked Vivienne if she wanted to watch a movie with you while eating lunch before she would have to leave for work. You hadn’t opened the MirandaPet app since this morning, though your curiosity for it never waned.
You waved back at Ren and approached his table with your things in hand. Once getting closer, you could see in closer detail the way his bleached blonde hair was slightly messed up from being under a hoodie, which was now draped over a chair next to him since the library hadn’t had its AC fixed in the 50 years it’s been built. His narrow yet thick black-framed glasses sat on his nose, just barely covering his small eye bags over his lightly sun-kissed skin. Inspecting his clothes like a Miranda truther, you looked over the simple oversized grey t-shirt he wore over baggy dark wash denim jeans. You also spot the black watch over his wrist that you had gifted him for his birthday last year after one too many “I’d look so smart with a watch.”
You placed your backpack down on an empty chair and began setting up your laptop and notebook filled with notes. Like always, Ren stayed still and quiet while you pulled everything necessary out of your bag. After sitting down and getting properly situated, Ren spoke up.
“4 hours.”
You stared at him blankly in confusion. “4 hours of what?”
“Doomscrolling,” replied Ren. “I made a new game while waiting for you. I look around the room and guess how many hours people spent doomscrolling before getting here. I’m guessing you spent 4 hours.”
Ren sure does have a certain way of starting conversation, you thought to yourself. “Get better at it. I spent 3 hours.”
“Balls.”
You opened your computer, opting to just ignore him and get started on your work. Ren quickly interrupts you again.
“Oh come on. I was earlier than you. Can we not do work for a bit?” Ren whined.
You rolled your eyes before responding. “You’re so fussy. I spent all day worrying about this essay. I’m going to work on it.”
“5 minutes.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please mo—“
“Oh my god. Don’t mortify me like that again,” you said, an embarrassed chill running through your body. You were at the very least grateful that he didn’t get to finish his sentence.
“Yay,” Ren cheers. “I win. How’s my fit?”
You glanced up from your screen, looking at his outfit half covered by the table. “On what scale?”
“10’s the highest, 1 is also the highest.” You immediately shake your head.
“I’m making my own,” you responded. “You look less performative than normal.”
“Take it back.”
“Nope,” you respond, popping the “p” sound.
Ren laughs lightly. “You’re so sassy today.”
His words make you think back to Miranda. Your eyes glance at her app icon without even meaning to. You turn your attention back on your open document. “Viv’s rubbing off on me.”
Ren gave you a disgruntled look. “Vivienne is not sassy.”
“Yes, she is!” You retort, your head snapping to face him.
“She’s blunt,” argued Ren. “That’s different.”
“You don’t live with her. How would you know?” you defended.
Ren shrugs his shoulders. “That’s true. Still. You’re a different sassy.”
You furrow your brows at him while working. “Are there levels to how sassy someone can be?”
“Mhm,” nodded Ren. “You’re sitting comfortably at the above average levels of sassiness.”
“We’re done with this.”
“You know I’m funny.”
“Oh, shut up,” you muttered while trying to focus on typing.
After a couple more attempts from Ren to distract from doing his work, the both of you got into a smooth line of work. With some soft background music playing in your earbuds, you had started getting through your essay steadily. Writing your analysis, making sure your sources were peer-reviewed, changing sources that weren’t, all the necessary things that would help elevate your paper.
What you didn’t expect, however, was being visited by a guest.
Miranda’s small form popped up from the corner of your screen, making you jolt in your seat. Ren gave you a confused gaze, of which you awkwardly smiled and waved him off.
“Got chills.”
Ren stared at you skeptically for a couple of seconds. With ample time of him staring into all the rods and cones of your eyes, he gestured to his hoodie over the chair. “You can take my hoodie.”
You weren’t expecting that level of generosity from him. A faint fluttery feeling blossoms in your gut, but you choose to ignore it. You laughed lightly. “I’m good, thanks. I’d rather not get Dior Sauvage on me.”
“Funny that you think I can afford that.”
“I literally saw it on your bathroom counter last week.”
Ren huffed under his breath. “Sue me for wanting to be the alpha.”
Ren’s rebuttal gets lost in your ears when you see Miranda’s speech bubble appear in front of your paper.
“You spelt ‘unceremoniously’ wrong.”
You watch as Miranda’s speech bubble goes away and your spelling mistake gets resolved by her. Just as you were going to reach for your keyboard again, another speech bubble appears beside your mouse.
“There should be a comma after you use this semicolon. Did you fail high school English or something?” noted Miranda before she corrected your sentence.
Your fingers didn’t move to your keyboard, as though checking to see if Miranda was going to make another jab at your writing. When nothing occurred, you reached for your mouse–
“You look like you’re using MLA citation formatting. The page numbers should be at the end, not the year the source was made. Dr. Papasolomou worked hard for that PhD. Cite her properly. This sentence is a run-on, cut it in half. This sentence is the exact opposite. Why the hell are you ending a paragraph on a quote? If I was your professor, I would’ve curb stomped your ass with my Jimmy Choos outside a 7-Eleven for making a mistake 15 year olds make. You put your first name on the page number header instead of your last.”
You were this close to ripping her digital silver earrings out and stabbing all sixteen pixels at yourself.
“Are you okay?”
You turned your head to see Ren looking at you with an almost bewildered expression. You realized you were visibly fuming at your computer. Realistically, you could tell him about the desktop pet you downloaded. He would probably be one of the only ones who would get it, apart from maybe a little bit of teasing. However, something about telling others about you owning a digital manifestation of a fictional character living inside of your desktop for you to take care of felt odd to you. You were still a bit too embarrassed about how much you constantly think about this bratty little bundle of ones and zeroes.
“Yes,” you respond in a clipped tone. “Just frustrated with a… source.”
Ren stared at you blankly before slowly nodding his head. He clearly didn’t buy your excuse, but chose not to pry. “Right. Good thing I brought this.”
He digs inside his lunchbox and hands you a cold energy drink. Looking in, you could see a pack of dry ice, as well as a hidden can of Dos Equis that he was no doubt hoarding for himself.
“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”
“Can’t wait!”
ᢉ𐭩 . ˚
You got around four pages of your twelve page paper done by 1:45am. You would’ve gotten more done if the library didn’t close at 2am. You were currently walking back towards your apartment with Ren, who was just making sure your “meek nerd body didn’t get stabbed.” The sentiment was nice even if his delivery was hypocritical. He was a bigger nerd than you, but the distinction he made was that he was lean. Besides, his apartment complex was minutes away from yours, so he was technically walking home too.
“It’s like I reached the top of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.”
Oh yeah, and he was bragging about how he got all his work done and you didn’t.
“That’s not how that works,” you respond tiredly.
“Yes it does. You’re just jealous.”
“Obviously.”
He adjusted his hoodie over himself. The wind had gotten a bit chillier this late at night. “I bet I also could’ve written your whole paper before the library closed too.”
“Your work didn’t count,” you said. “Yours was due today. Mine is due on Thursday. I actually took my time.”
That was half a lie. You did take your time to make sure you wrote your best, but Miranda was also busy correcting every single sentence you made. She maybe pushed your writing back by an hour and a half. You hated to admit it, but maybe it was to your benefit. You felt like your writing has never been more clear yet distinctly yours.
“Whatever. Wanna play Mabinogi when we’re home?” asked Ren. His usually apathetic expression looked back at you cheekily.
“It’s 2 in the morning.”
“Okay,” responded Ren. “... Yes or no.”
“My laptop’s dead.”
Ren stared at you incredulously. “So charge it?”
“I’d rather not take off while playing,” you responded with an unamused expression.
Ren scoffed at your concern. “Your fans aren’t that loud.”
“It’s a Macbook,” you argued. “It’s not the sticky gamer laptop you have.”
“PC.”
“You’re only proving my point.”
The two of you kept walking towards your apartment buildings. Your hands were stuffed inside your clothing to try and warm them up. It wasn’t outrageously cold, but the gusts of wind blowing at you did not make walking any easier for you. Ren, who was noticing how cold you were getting while walking, wordlessly took off his hoodie and offered it to you.
“Guys don’t get cold,” he said while holding the hoodie out to you.
“Liar.”
“Can you just accept my monthly act of goodwill and take the goddamn hoodie?”
You stared at the hoodie he had offered to you. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t done playing in his face. “But the Dior Sauvage…”
Ren rolled his eyes with a groan. “Would it kill you to smell like it for a night? You’re freezing your ass off.”
“It really would,” you responded. “Do you know how many hot people are using the gym at night?”
“None. Losers go to the gym at 2am.”
“That’s my type, though…” you whined, still not taking the hoodie yet.
Ren fell silent at your words for a couple of seconds. His lips turned upwards into a smug look. “Ok. Will you amuse this loser by taking his hoodie?”
“I’m going to throw up.”
“Take it before I suffocate you with it.”
Finally, you take the hoodie from him and put it on over yourself. “Thanks.”
“Yup.”
The both of you continued walking ahead, your shivering subsided now that you wore his large and annoyingly comfortable hoodie.
“So, Mabinogi?”
You groaned tiredly. “No.”
“I’ll trade you the Afternoon Tea Dress.”
“Will you match?”
“… For tonight.”
“We’ll play for an hour.”
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© MYLODIES — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. do not recycle my work into AI learning models.