artemis

you *know* you can.

mine are bigger now btw.

you must have something non-alcoholic. pass me a can.

okay, when we get to this guy's place, del can grab the feet, lalo can grab the hands, and we'll stuff him in the trunk and . . .

oh my crukking god, are you two drinking?! del! i thought you were READING.

oh, you did NOT just--

put your seatbelt on. i'm not letting that shit slide.

( RAPIDLY u-turning the car to tail the offending driver, shunting the car and everything in it quickly to the left. )

that's MY job. shut up.

( an incredibly loud, drawn-out honk. ) HEY ASSHOLE, WHERE'D YOU LEARN TO CRUKKING DRIVE? THE APOTHECARY? UGH, GO FLORBLESNAPTOR A SNAKJONK! I'VE GOT RIGHT OF WAY HERE, SMEGMAFACE! ( giving him the 'snow shovel' gesture, famously crude in this portion of the galaxy. )

( art is too busy driving to see what del's up to, exactly. )

yeah, that one's a good one, but did you read 'The Pattering of Tiny Feet: Confessions of a Proud Mother' by irma idyut? i thought that one was *so* brave, and just *SO* . . . *funny*, y'know?

hang on, i've gotta swear at a guy.

aw, are you *really*? aw, *del* . . . and i thought you were just up to something!

why not?

elaborate on that.

--

but seeing the look on her lover's face, art frowns. ' . . . are you ok? have you been drinking again?'

'oh my gods, were you *asleep*? i told you to *pack a bag*,' art scoffs. she enters the small alcove of a room, a hand on her now not-so-small bump. she wants to go shopping, she says; her clothes don't fit anymore. 'we've landed. the first station we came across, remember? like i said.'

--

@delasi.bsky.social you're quiet today.

your *guys*.

your *guys*?

'born fruit'? elaborate on that.

oh, i *shivered*. i've got goosebumps. see? feel those.

knocked up is such a . . . crass term.

( a smile. whatever she says. art is always right. )

i'm gonna make some urf kaw-frey. want some?

how's your back today?

who is 'you'? i was never 23.

or pubescent.

lalo seems pretty cool with them.

do kids say that? pretty cool? that's why we're not hip with the kids.

now you sound old.

it's okay, just don't do it again.

woah, woah, woah. i didn't say *you* could say that.

it's only math.

what's with the, um, man-thing in our garden?

hmmm. wellll, using that chocolate pizza slice in your hand for comparison . . . i'd say . . .

1143.8941 gsm².

no.

before you answer i'm incredibly hormonal.