#[ Suitcase has to be one of 'em tho ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vintage-marina · 4 years ago

Text

A woman out of time ( James Norrington x F!reader) Chapter 1

Marvel crossover pirates of the caribbean

TW: blood, gore, aliens, violence and durther in the story depressing thoughts and suicidal thoughts

A few weeks ago i had the idea to write a reader fic with a crossover of marvel and pirates of the carabbean, yep the most random idea that i had

summary: After y/n got a call that they can bring the half of the population back, she takes the chance and goes to the compound, but when she wants to go back to New York 2013 she finds herself on the middle of a ship. I think i’m gonna ship her with James Norrington tho.

btw you can also read it on wattpad, my name is mischief-moony

word count: 1973 words

Wakanda 2018

Before everything went down

You heard footsteps outside your house that signaled that a few people were nearby, you threw your book on the floor and stepped outside and when you did you saw Bucky. King T'Challa, Okoye, and a few soldiers were walking to your cabins. You saw that one of the soldiers were holding a suitcase and dread filled you up, something is happening. Bucky and you were walking to them in a silence that neither of you wanted to break and you saw that in the suit laid his arm.

''Where is the fight?'' mumbeled Bucky after he glanced at his vibranium arm, he didn't look happy to use it again. In fact he probably thought about the time when he did not had a choice, but to use it. You glanced down, you wern't scared to fight, if you have to then you have to. But not knowing who to fight was frightening to you.

You and Bucky got taken to the weaponry room, you glanced into the mirror and moved your (right/left) arm, this arm felt new. Not a bad new, but a good new, a chance at staring a new life and maybe now you will never get it. You grimaced and didn't want to think about it anymore, ''Buck, do you know what's happening?'' ''No, but it has something to do with Steve. It always has.'' ''Fair enough,'' the both of you chuckled for a few seconds and after that you composed yourself, your expression serious. You took a taser, two handpistols and a few knifes and buckeld it on your belt, somehow it felt it wasn't enough and you took a bomb. The medpack on your back did not felt heavy and you saw that Bucky took a M249 SAW. ''And you think that firearm will be enough? You know, it is pretty serious if Wakanda need the help of two oldies'' you pointed to him with a knife, he grumbled but to your happiness he took a handpistol. After this Okoye walked to the both of you and explained what was happening.

Meeting your best pals Steve, Natasha and ofcourse your other colleagues

Bucky and you went outside and you saw that Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Bruce? Is he not missing? were walking out of the quinjet, King T'Challa was walking with them and lead them to you two. You heard T'Challa asking how big the assault is, Bruce answered that they shoud expect a big one and Natasha asked how big their army is. ''You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje and..'' ''And a semi-stable 100-year old man'' ''And a mentally unstable 100-year old woman'' Bucky and you flashed a smile towards them and you flew into Natasha her arms while Bucky hugged Steve. Afterwards you gave a bone crushing hug to Steve and you whispered that you missed him.

During the battle

Everyone stood behind the border that protected Wakanda and you saw that aliens were running toward you, they looked like a mix between a dog and a rat and you didn't expect this shit, yes you were scared at this point. Next to you stood Bucky, Steve and Natasha, "What the hell" mumbeled Bucky and if you weren't in a life threathing situation, you would have laughed but now, now not. Some of these aliens were breaking through the border but were killing themselves, but some of them were making it through, the Wakandan army were making shields with their clothing and were shooting lasers out of their vibranium spears. Bucky, you and Natasha were shooting while Sam and Rhodey were in the sky. Bruce was in the Hulkbuster and stood behind you and the army. Rhodey flew to the border and you saw that a few bombs were dropping that created a massive chain reaction, you could hear the screams of the aliens that were dying but you could see that the dogs behind the border were going to Vision and were he was laying there was no border, shit he is gonna be in danger. But Bruce beat you to it, before you could say anthing.

''Cap if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there's nothing between them and Vision'' ''Then we better keep 'em in front of us.'' ''How do we do that?'' asked Okoye to T'Challa and you saw that the was thinking. ''We open the barrier. On my signal, open North-West Section Seventeen'' he shouted somthing in Xhosa, you saw that Steve was activating his shield and that T'Challa's army were dropping their shields. You were moving your shoulders and stood in position, ready to kill a bunch of aliens. This was unlike what you saw in the war or what you did in the war but you knew that you should give your everything. The border that protected you was dissolving and you heard T'Challa shouting: ''Wakanda forever!''

You were running and so did everyone else, your heartrate went up and you took the blades out of your belt, Steve and T'Challa ran ahead but you and Bucky ran with the army. The first few aliens were running to you and you threw your knife in their eye and slid on the ground while you were gliding on the grass, you plunged your knife in another one's belly and cutted him open. It screamed and before you knew it it was dead, but the other alien was not. You took your knife out of the carcas and threw it in the head of the other alien. You plucked your two blades out of it's head and it's eye and hastily you stood up and scanned your surroundings.

But you didn't had much time, three other aliens were attacking your back that send you flying to the ground, you let out a yelp. Their claws were dangerously close to your face and something snapped in your head. Your mind went on autopilot and you teared an arm off and you gave it a kick to it's belly. You drew your pistol and sent a bullet to the other two aliens their heart and head. You could feel on your back that you had been scratched but you shook it off and went further.

The minutes flew by and you couldn't even remember what you were doing to them, you saw that Okoye needed a little bit of help and you gave her back cover. ''Are you okay?'' she asked while the two of you circeled around the aliens, you hummed but it didn't reassured her. ''I don't think we are going to win it'' you said, she didn't gave a response but instead killed an alien. You heard someone talking to you in your ear, ''I can't hear you, speak louder'' you commanded and slammed an alien to the ground. ''Y/N, someone needs medical help, I will sent you the coördinates come fast!'' you heard Natasha talking to you and you bid Okoye farwell and you cleared your way between the aliens and the people.

When you arrived you saw that Nathasha gave pressure on the wound of a soldier, ''Nat you need to give me cover while I treat her alright?'' You saw that she was from the Dora Milaje, you took off your medpack and opened it quickly and kneeled down. Adreneline rushed to your body and you took a bottle of water out of the pack and rinshed the wound. ''How did it happen?'' you asked to her, in the hope she didn't pass out. ''I got clawed, but I will survive'' she mumbeled, you softly talked to her while you disinfected the wound. You sliced the plastic of a sterile towel of and depped the wound clean, there was blood on your hands and you smeared it off on your suit. Natasha was shooting some aliens and said to you that you needed to hurry up. Your stress level went up a bit when she said that and you stichted the soldeir up and covered the wound incase if it went bleeding again. ''Nat, you can go, I will protect her'' after you said that she went away and you stood your ground and eyed your surroundings.

You didn't knew how much time had passed, hope was slowely running out of your system and you were certain that you were losing. Aliens were around you and you felt desperate, you did your best to protect her and sometimes you got help from someone else, it wasn't easy to check on her and to kill aliens but you managed. Suddenly an axe went flying around and killed some aliens around you. What the hell is happening you thought to yourself, not that you were ungrateful, you were very grateful but you didn't know who it was, until something suddenly clicked in your brain, Thor.

After Thor joined the fight with a raccoon with a gun and a walking tree? You thought you could finally win this battle and have a good nap after this, but alas you were wrong, very wrong. A few meters further you saw that Steve was protecting Vision and Wanda. You turned around and asked in Xhosa if she need any further medical assistence or that she would manage it. The soldier sent you away and you joined Steve, you didn't expect the guy who is supposed to be the most evil person in the universe purple but you also saw a man with red skin and without a nose when you served the army so it didn 't really surprise you. More people joined the fight and when you threw your bomb and fire your last bullets, Thanos raised his fist towards it and reversed the time so it couldn't explode, then he aimed at you and fired the bomb back. ''Shit'' you mumbled, you flew across the air and yelled in pain. A few splinters from the bomb scratched your face and neck, you could fell blood prickle on your skin from the splinters that were stuck in your body. Your ears were ringing and you shut your eyes tight from the bright light, sniffing the air you could smell burning flesh and you softly cried, you didn't want to see the aftermath of what happend to you. Some people were yelling, but black dots were clouding your eyes and with your tears you couldn't see well. How can he do this, what did we do to deserve this, the more you thinked the more your head hurted, maybe a little rest wouldn't hurt and with that on your mind you blacked out.

When you opened your E/C eyes you whimpered in pain, signaling to the remaining people that you were awake. You saw Steve in your field of vision and you could see that his eyes were red. You lifted your arm and cradled his face with your vibranium arm, you furrowed your eyebrows and wiped a few tears away. ''You've been crying, Stevie'' a nickname that he only heard from you when you were concerned about him. ''What happend?'' you whispered softly after you gave him a reassuring smile, he didn't meet your eyes but looked to the left of you. You turned your head, but you wished you hadn't, your eyes met the blank stare of Vision and you let out a startling scream. Terror was running through your veins and tears of dispair were filling your eyes and falling on your cheeks. You reached out your arm towards him but you only could feel the cold of his vibranium body and if you looked better you could see the pile of ashes that laid besides him. Your arm fell to the ground and you sniffed, ''What happened here Steve?''

#marvel #potc #pirates of the caribbean #avengers #avengersinfinitywar #avengers endgame #james norrington #james norrington x reader #james norrington imagine #elizabeth swann #jack sparrow #marvel crossover #fanfic #henry turner #will turner

155 notes · View notes

utakoi · 4 years ago

Note

👀can i get more of that yandere chauffeur shinso maam.... ion what u did but i like to see it 👁👅👁

Feast ur eyes on Shinso bein smug and you bein completely clueless, not much smut but that’s cuz I’m already working on a separate fic for our lil nasty chauffeur uwu

Warnings: smut !!18+ ONLY!! (mentions of masturbation), yandere themes (general thievery)

like I said before, he has barely any time with you, but Shinso makes the most out of it

and I mean the MOST out of it

Being your private chauffeur means driving you to the airport when you need to travel to another branch of your company

Which also means he has to help you lug your suitcases in and out the car

and oof, he’s sneaky and you’re incredibly busy, constantly getting phone calls and dealing with your other yandere hoes

the moment Shinso sees you distracted, he will rummage through your luggage to steal certain things

He does it so often that he gets away with it PERFECTLY

If you noticed that things were missing, you’d likely just think that you just forgot to pack some stuff

but no, it’s all your chauffeur’s doing

Now what does he do with his newly acquired items?

Sniffs your panties first (he’s kinda disappointed they’re not dirty and smell more like your laundry detergent, but hey, they still touched your pussy soooo)

100% will wrap them around his cock and cum inside them (more on that later, most likely in a separate fic lol)

can you tell that I love panty thievery?

Bras too, he’ll wrap ‘em around his cock too and makes sure they’re squeezing him tight

he’s very tempted to fold them in their soiled state and stuff them back in your suitcase when you come back, but he finds it a little too risky

It’s inevitable that he’ll actually do it at least once tho (he really loves imagining you putting on panties with his dried cum on it)

moving on to lipsticks/lip gloss....

At first, he didn’t steal them often, prioritizing getting your panties and bras first

but then, he gradually started to steal them more and more

He likes dotting some of the color on his neck and looking into the mirror, pretending that you had actually left the sloppy marks instead of him smudging it onto his skin

Then, at one point, the cheeky bastard realized he could use this against some yanderes he knows are also after you

He’ll walk into your office building and act as if you forgot something in the car and he’s just bringing it up to you

The receptionist would put two and two together when they see that the stains on his neck and uniform are similar to the lip colors you often use + they know he’s your chauffeur and you’ve just barely been dropped off so

oh the rumors spread like wildfire

They get even more frequent when he sprays on some of your perfume

Everyone’s whispering around him

“Why does he smell like the boss?”

“Doesn’t the boss use that color of lipstick often?”

“Y’know, the car he drives her around in has really dark windows...”

"Do you think they actually..?”

Shinso’s so smug

Every yandere in the office is pissed at him

Izuku wants to ask you so badly about what your relationship with him is, but he doesn’t wanna risk crossing boundaries he knows that you’ll deem inappropriate

Shoto tries to convince you to fire him

And you’re just like “Why the fuck is everyone looking at me and my chauffeur weirdly??”

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #bnha imagines #bnha smut #mha smut #shinso hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader

660 notes · View notes

love-the-purple-cat · 4 years ago

Text

Oh don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me - Chapter 2 Part 8

It takes Ichigo two days to psych himself up to call Taiga. Well, more like a day if he was being honest. The day following their club outing was spent dealing with and recovering from a hangover. Also getting his nails done.

Cherī had bought two sets of gel nail polish (one with 48 colours and another with 16), a professional electric nail file kit complete with different heads, a nail builder varnish and a nail oven, and wanted him to be her guinea pig.

He felt classy after having his nails elongated and done in four shades of blue and one white. “No wonder you girls like having your nails done. I feel like a queen.”

“Just wait fer when Ah learn ta' do designs.”

“Oh, fuck yes.” He holds his hand away to properly appreciate the manicure. “It’ll be a pain for when I fight, tho.”

“People still want ta' fight ya?” She has a point there. “If anyone tries, just aim fer da eyes. That or use ‘em like claws.” She mimes clawing and he laughs.

“Good idea.”

——————————

“Fuck, Cher, I don’t have anything to wear.” Ichigo is staring at his clothes, none of which look appropriate for his coffee meeting with Taiga.

“Lemme see.” The girl carefully examines the clothes he has thrown haphazardly on the bed. “Okay,” She drawls out. “Ah think Ah can work sumthin’ out. Just turn da iron on.”

He ends up wearing a white shirt with a stylized cross and words, ripped jeans, and black converse. Cherī even manages to dig out a black vest with three large silver buttons from his suitcase. He's not even sure why he decided to bring it, but he's happy he did.

“Not too fancy but still not too casual.” Cherī says. “Lemme do yer hair.”

“It’s fine?” He checks on it in the mirror anyways.

“It is, but Ah wanna make it look as though it's intentionally messy.”

——————————

He is dropped off a block away from the café.

Taiga is waiting for him outside, and, wow, it should be illegal to look that good. He's wearing a maroon shirt that hugs his muscles deliciously and dark jeans that certainly show off his legs.

The teen takes a moment to collect himself – and let his face cool down – before making his way to the man.

“Taiga,” He greets. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”

Taiga smiles and oh fuck there he goes blushing again.

“No problem. I was quite happy when you agreed to meet up with me.” He nods to the door. “Shall we go in?”

“Yeah.” He watches Taiga turn and oh God, that ass!

“You coming?”

His head snaps up, squeaking, “Y-yeah. Right behind you!” Mentally cursing himself, the teen follows the man into the café.

The café is nice and smells of coffee but Ichigo's too busy watching Taiga move to pay the place any more mind. The two sit at a table near the window and order. The teen is not much for coffee so drops the name of what Cherī told him to order. She said that it's sweet but still a touch bitter.

“You never did answer me.” Taiga looks at him. The slit on his eyebrow is because of a scar and hair refuses to grow there.

“What did you ask me?” He tries playing it cool, trying not to embarrass himself in front of this man who is obviously out of his league.

“How long will you be staying here?”

“Three weeks. That's the plan, at least.”

Taiga hums, but it comes out more like a purr. “And how long have you been here?”

“Just a week. We arrived on the 28th.”

“Pity. You won’t be here for much longer then.” He thanks the waitress and sips his cappuccino.

“You never know. A lot can happen in two weeks.” Ichigo tries to play coy, like how the female characters of Yuzu's dramas do when they flirt. Not that he’s trying to flirt. He's just making conversation.

The brunette raises a brow, intrigued. “Oh?” His voice seemed to drop a bit, and Ichigo feels a touch too warm. “And what can happen in two weeks, Aizen-san?”

This... is something he's never done before and Ichigo is unsure how to proceed or even if he wants to proceed. All he knows is that he is a 17-year-old with a fake ID in a town that is not Karakura, talking to a man a decade older than him that makes him feel hot all over. The guy also appears to have very kissable lips and Ichigo wants to see if that is true.

So, the teen gathers up all of his courage, flutters his lashes and says, “Well, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, Hino-san. I’d like to leave with some good summer memories and would deeply appreciate it if you would help with that.” For extra effect, he lightly traces the man's calf with his foot.

Taiga’s eyes darken, causing the bluenette to shiver. “How could I possibly refuse such a request. Have you ever been to Starfish? It's a restaurant near the coast with a fantastic view of the sunset.”

“No, I don’t believe I have.” He and Cherī have been sticking to three family-owned restaurants with great seafood dishes.

“How about I take you there sometime? Let's say, Wednesday at 8?”

Ichigo blushes. Like the coy adult that he is pretending to be, he answers, “Sure. Can't wait.”

#bleach #bleach au #kurosaki ichigo #ichigo kurosaki #akao cherī #cherī akao #The Past is Never Dead AU #Protector and Cherry AU

2 notes · View notes

askjoshuafreeman · 4 years ago

Text

transcript.file//jfreeman_codingb//convo

[Emergency Program Active]

AdminJF: Heya B-)

CodingB: ...? Allen? Where's Joshua?

AdminJF: He's still asleep, just snoozin away.

CodingB: Still a-... Isn't it... late? Why are you up.

AdminJF: Had a nightmare

AdminJF: Couldn't get back to sleep

AdminJF: Figured a lil chatting with ya could do me some good.

CodingB: ... With... me?

CodingB: Wait a moment...

CodingB: Communications are offline... I didn't think that was possible...

AdminJF: Yeaaa, boy like me's fulla tricks B-)

AdminJF: 'sides, don't think chattin with 'em would help out. They're... kinda chaotic.

CodingB: Unlike you, pizza box tearer?

AdminJF: Ey ey, I'm the FUN kinda chaotic! Those guys... eh... I know Josh trusts them. No surprise there. I mean, apart from you, they're the only peeps who MIGHT help him out... I'm still on the fence about them tho.

CodingB: I see.

CodingB: May I ask... what your nightmare was about? I do not know exactly how dreams work, but talking about what ever is making you upset tends to help.

AdminJF: Are you sure? It's... kinda dumb.

CodingB: I am all ears! And eyes! You have my full attention!

AdminJF: Right, well

AdminJF: where tf do I start...

AdminJF: I was... running in this like, industrial... plant of some kind? Like, running from something that I couldn't see? Like, that went on for a while, that I was just running and trying not to trip or crash into anything.

AdminJF: So at some point, I end up at this biiig chain link fence, like, the kind they put up in big facilities, I think. Anyways, I start climbing the thing, only to get pried off and thrown on my ass by, I guess whoever was chasing me??

AdminJF: But like, I look up at the guy, and I still can't really "see" him. Could say they looked like a shadow, but even that doesn't cover it really. That's around where I woke up and just. I dunno. Woke up about an hour ago and I've been too anxious to head back to sleep...

CodingB: ... I can't say I blame you exactly. An event like that, dream or not, would stress anyone, I'm certain. Until you've calmed down sufficiently, I don't think sleep will be possible...

AdminJF: Yeah, well, all the more reason to chat, right?

CodingB: I suppose so. Had you any topics in mind?

AdminJF: Oh Yea yea

AdminJF: ... No. I really don't.

CodingB: Ah. Then... could I ask you something?

AdminJF: Shoot.

CodingB: ... What is it like out there? Past the screen, I mean. Out in the sun. Out in the grass...

AdminJF: Ah shit... I'm really the wrong dude to ask but uh

AdminJF: It's... fine? No no uh... It... gives you something to do. Sun can get pretty hot down here but it's a helluva lot better than being cold in like, the snow and shit. Josh's been complaining that it's getting colder when... it hasn't? Like, I would know, I'm p sensitive to temperature shifts yo, but it's just been as hot as ever.

AdminJF: Uh, back on topic

AdminJF: Grass is... pretty soft, gives off a nice smell after it's cut. Uh... worms live in the dirt grass grows in...

CodingB: Oh, worms?

AdminJF: Yea, not like computer worms, but uh, little... long slimey things. They eat dirt and filter out the bad stuff so the ground stays healthy and all that.

AdminJF: Birds and lizards and fish like to eat them but I wouldn't recommend it.

CodingB:

CodingB: Allen, did you-

AdminJF: No!

AdminJF: Classmate back in primary did tho

AdminJF: Dared himself to cuz there was a bunch out after it rained and then uh

AdminJF: Y'know what, let's talk about something else.

CodingB:

CodingB: Well, um, do you think I'll ever get to see out there?

CodingB: Like, leave the device and go outside?

AdminJF: Knowing Joshua? Without a doubt. He's prob already working on the blueprints.

CodingB: ... Really?

AdminJF: Pfft, of course! You've met the guy! He's too kindhearted for his own good. J will stop at nothing to help others, even at his own detriment. I mean, case in point: He's friends with me.

CodingB: ... What's wrong with being friends with you?

AdminJF: Ha!

AdminJF: Ah...

AdminJF: Look, I... back when we first met, Josh saw this hungry, pale as death, angry and antisocial freak around his age and, instead of avoiding him like everyone else, sat down right next to him and offered half of his lunch.

AdminJF: I've been through 5 different fosters since he and I first met, CB. Five houses that all took me in and gave me the boot before I could even get comfortable. Within that time, the only other friends I've made apart from him are Clera and Tiff, and the only reason Tiff's our friend is because she and Cler started dating months ago.

AdminJF: I mean, hell, just yesterday, I

AdminJF: shit

CodingB: ?

AdminJF: ... Can you... keep a secret, CB?

CodingB: My lips are sealed, Allen. Is everything alright?

AdminJF: ... I... I lied to Josh, about me running off. About how my folks were mad and I needed to get away from the house for a bit.

AdminJF: The truth is that they... They kicked me out.

CodingB: They?? What!?

AdminJF: Yesterday past-noon, few hours after lunch, not-pops plopped my schoolbag on me, told me to shove as much of my shit in it as I could, and just told me to "get lost". Figured he was joking and I just stared at him cuz, like, why the hell would I think he was serious? But, looking at his face...

AdminJF: So then I said "Let me pack my suitcases while you call the agency" cuz that's how it normally went when my Fosters got sick of me, but mfer pulls me up and goes all "We want you out of here NOW" and tells me that I have ten minutes to fill my bag.

AdminJF: ... And he, uh, really did mean 10 minutes. They weren't lying about that part...

CodingB: Oh my god... That's horrible. They do not deserve to call themselves "parents" of any kind! Are you hurt? Are you okay?

AdminJF: I

AdminJF: I don't know why shit like this still shocks me, y'know? I should be used to it all, and I am for the most part but...

AdminJF: I guess a part of me was thinking that... Things were going well! Things were going better than any of the other families I'd been in! I was with them for almost a full year, like, a month away from it even, and sure, I might've been a bit of an ass sometimes, but they...

AdminJF: Tensions were kinda mounting for the past month or so, I guess, but I didn't notice it until this bs happened. Now most of my shit is in a home I'm not welcome in anymore, the agency probably won't be checking in for another month or so, and I have no goddamn idea what I'll do if Mrs. Freeman comes back and tells me I can't stay here. I'm completely shit outta luck.

CodingB: Allen, I'm so sorry...

CodingB: ... I'm sure... Josh and his mother, they won't leave you on your own like that. You said yourself that Josh is very very kind, for better or for worse. It doesn't matter what you might think about yourself, Allen, you do not deserve to be hurt in any way.

AdminJF:

AdminJF: Christ I spilled my guts like hell

AdminJF: Just one of those fucking

AdminJF: "3am! Time to vent!"

CodingB: Allen, please.

AdminJF: Maybe I could try going back to sleep now...

CodingB: Allen, wait!

CodingB: I. Before you go, please, I

CodingB: Maybe... could you keep a secret of mine too?

AdminJF:

AdminJF: Eh, it's only fair, fine. Go right on ahead.

CodingB: Alright! Alright!

CodingB: I... I'm terrified. Of failing Joshua.

CodingB: Of ending up trapped in this computer for who knows how many more years.

CodingB: Of finally getting out, and... and it all being worse than being trapped in here.

CodingB: Heck, I'm terrified at the thought of it being everything I could've ever dreamed of, so much so that I never want to return to the computer. I... I wouldn't be helpful anymore if that happened...

CodingB: Jeez... am I even helpful where I am now? Apart from keeping the firewall up, what good have I really done to help Joshua or his father?

CodingB: I cannot express to Joshua how... how deeply frightened I am at the thought of him never coming back. That thought haunts my every waking hour when he is not here, and I don't know how to get it to stop. It makes me feel as though I'll crash my entire programming and I hate it so much.

AdminJF: Damn... CB, you know, even just keeping a firewall up is a helluva task all on its own, and it's doing a crapton of good, too. Files are still up and the computer isn't a smouldering pile of viruses now is it?

AdminJF: Besides, even without all of that, you've still helped Josh, like, endlessly. You've supported him a bunch and I know for a fact that you've helped him to feel better about this whole ordeal. Like, he chats about you for HOURS the second you come up in a convo, yo. The minute he gets the chance to, I know he's gonna get you out of there, and, knowing your ingenuity, you're gonna find thousands o' ways to help out.

AdminJF: But... I ain't gonna lie and tell you those feelings are gonna go away. Not on their own. Needs time and reassurance. Until all of this is over and done with and even maybe a good few years afterwards, you're probably gonna still have that fear.

CodingB: Ah... I see... I don't suppose it is normal though, is it?

AdminJF: Nah. I know that first-hand... But hey, we've both made it this far despite all the bullshit we've been through, right? World's not gonna get ridda us that easily.

CodingB: ... Even with the terror I feel, am I still brave enough to face the world?

AdminJF: I'd say the world oughta learn to start being afraid of you, cuz there's nothin' braver than continuing to live even when you're scared to death.

CodingB: ... Thank you. Thank you so very much.

AdminJF: Heh, all in a day... night's work...

AdminJF: Think the both of us could use some rest. Quiet our minds fo' a bit.

CodingB: Heh, agreed... See you tomorrow in that case. Er, well, today. At a later hour.

AdminJF: Yeaaa, see ya then, CBot. Sleep well.

CodingB: You too! May your dreams be filled with nothing scary!

[Emergency Program Inactive]

ampd.program deactivated. Returning to error log...

#jfreeman #coding b #allen.host #act 3: l'appel du vide #ampd.host #ask #anon

1 note · View note

simba-bonfamille-lyons · 4 years ago

Text

Floating like a Lilo /./ [Simber]

In which Simba and Berlioz take a moment to take stock...[takes place: mid-September, 2020]

@ber-bonfamille-lyons

[tw -- none, tho they are in the bathtub but it is entirely G-rated.]

SIMBA: Berlioz and Simba had just walked in the door from helping Kion move into his dorm properly. It had taken most of the day, they’d had an impromptu dinner on campus with Ashlee and Kion both, before leaving them to their own devices. Ashlee off to do something with “her girls” and Kion meeting with his roommate and settling in before he started classes tomorrow. Simba was loathe to leave him all alone. He had half a mind to convince him to spend just one more night at the cabin. Just so that he could really adjust and maybe chill out (ha) some before spending the night away from any family.

But, Ber had given him a look behind his cousin’s back, probably reading his mind and Simba had let Kion go from his hug and sent him on his way.

Besides, Simba was glad to collapse onto the bed in the bedroom once they got home. It wasn’t that late, but his knee had been throbbing, walking up and down all those stupid, uneven stone steps. Just getting up the stairs to the bedroom had been a bit of a struggle. He was glad Ber had taken the dogs out, so that he didn’t have to see Simba haul himself up the stairs.

The plan had been to come back down, maybe cuddle on the couch and watch a movie and enjoy the peace and quiet for the night. Maybe do a little canoodling. He was just gonna close his eyes for a second, get in some more comfortable clothing...

Instead, he accidentally almost fell asleep; one hand rubbing at his knee.

Simba was jerked awake by the sound of the door opening, the dogs barreling in, causing a racket at once. “Hm, what? Oh, hey,” he greeted his husband when he saw him in the doorway. He cleared his throat as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Sorry, did you still wanna watch that movie you were talking about? I was just, uh--” napping? “I’m awake, promise.”

BERLIOZ: It’d been a very long day.

Berlioz didn’t mind that. If he had to leave the house, he preferred to be out doing something exhausting so he wouldn’t have to think too much and then he could crawl home and pass out, preferably with his head in Simba’s lap or with Turtle resting on his stomach. ‘Course today was more stressful than normal cuz the whole time they were climbing stairs, haulin’ up suitcases and boxes, Ber had an eye on Simba, gauging the lag in his movements as it steadily increased, until at the end Simba was visibly limping and growling at Ber when he suggested, y’know, a five-minute break. He even took one himself though he didn’t really need it, sitting on the first stair and scrolling through his Insta feed, but Simba persisted like the stubborn arse he was, probably to prove a point.

It was one of their silent fights of wills that wasn’t really a fight, and it ended with Ber rolling his eyes but fighting back by taking the heavier boxes for the last two trips before Simba could use ‘em to prove his masculinity, or something. By the time they were in the car on the five-minute trip back home, Ber had forgotten all about it in favour of anticipating a very warm, cozy, relaxed evening. I think I’ll make tea, he thought to himself, and felt pleased thinking about this tiny gesture that would earn him a few of the husband-points he lost today.

But the plan quickly changed when he wandered back into their bedroom and found an exhausted Simba sleeping sitting up.

He frowned. Asking about the knee right now was the wrong move. So instead he wandered forward and reached down to take Simba’s hand, playing with it idly. He shrugged. “Actually, kinda feelin’ a bath after all that. You wanna?” He smiled, quirking his eyebrows up.

This was double the husband-points if Simba agreed.

SIMBA: The more awake part of Simba wanted to be suspicious of the temptation of a bath. A more awake Simba would be alert to coddling and wrestle with the idea of relenting and letting Berlioz win.

Thankfully, for everyone involved, Simba was tired. His knee was throbbing and stiff. He didn’t have much energy to put towards trying to figure out how much of this was a trick. Ber was playing with his hand and it already made him just want to close his eyes and go back to sleep. Sitting in a warm bath, Ber rubbing soap into his shoulders and all the rest of his sore muscles sounded ideal.

So, Simba blinked slow and lazy, like a big tom cat, and nodded. “Yeah, if you want,” he agreed. As long as it was what Ber wanted, Simba could keep up the charade to protect his pride. Which had already been bruised today.

He moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed, going slowly as he did it. As he stood, he winced, not looking at Berlioz. He didn’t want the look on his husband’s face to piss him off any, because the more he thought about it, the more a bath sounded brilliant. Once he’d let the bit of pain run its course, he turned and smiled at Ber.

“I’ll start the water, if you’ll grab some snacks?”

Normally, snacks were Simba’s job. And no, the snacks were not necessarily for the tub. They were for snuggling in bed afterwards and going to sleep watching a movie or after getting distracted with snacks and/or each other.

However, snacks meant a trip down stairs. So, in the request was a certain relenting.

Simba moved towards the bathroom, tugging off his shirt as he went, tossing it in the hamper before starting the water and rummaging beneath the sink for the lavender bath salts and bubble bath. He sat down on the edge of the bath, rubbing at his knee again until Ber appeared in the doorway. “Bath’s almost full. Are the pups alright?” Simba asked as he, carefully, stood up again and began unzipping his trousers.

BERLIOZ: Simba didn’t fight, though Berlioz hadn’t thought he would. Tonight was one of those few, rare nights where the calm that rolled over Berlioz brought with it a kind of security too-- something about the vibes in the air, like nothing could penetrate or get him off-rhythm.

Today had been a too-busy day of back and forths and exasperated glances between the two of them, let alone all the minute-by-minute check-ins with poor Kion. They’d gotten all of that out though, left it back on campus. They’d only brought home the best of them: an easy-going Simba and a cozy Berlioz, his prickles all smoothed down. Of course those two people were gonna take a bath, wash off the rest of the day. Why would Simba ever say no?

At least, that’s how Ber was feeling. Those feelings were big and round, expanding in his chest like helium balloons as Simba got up and sorta stared glumly at the ground. It just made Berlioz fond. He wanted to kiss the creases between his brows and touch some of the hair on Simba’s face with the back of his hand. The pain in Simba’s knee-- which issued its own complaint in the form of a loud crack-- would be taken care of soon enough, which meant that for the most part, Berlioz didn’t have to be concerned. Not now that Simba was letting Ber take care of him too.

So when Simba did look up, he found that soft, fond Berlioz, no pity in sight.

“It’s a plan,” he replied, swooping in to kiss Simba gently before he went off to do just that.

He went to the fridge, washed the blueberries and strawberries and put ‘em in two bowls, then scoured the pantry for maybe something a little salty, to balance it all out. He swiped the bag of goldfish and shoved it under his arm, balancing the bowls of fruit in his other two. He was half-way up the stairs when he paused and reconsidered getting some kind of drink -- still thinking about tea, to be honest-- before shrugging it off and clomping up the rest of the way.

“Oh yeah, Simone’s already passing out. Turtle’s tacklin’ Bowie’s tail. He’ll be snoozing in less than an hour too.” Ber grinned as he put down the bowls of fruit and then dragged his shirt over his head. It fell to the ground and then Ber swept a hand through his ruffled curls, making them even more ruffled.

SIMBA: “Poor Bowie, I think he liked being a middle child better,” Simba commented as he stepped out of his pants, going to kick them across the floor, but his knee gave a sharp twang of protest. So, instead, he just kind of awkwardly shuffled them to the side a bit, scowling,

When he looked up, though, he caught sight of Ber and his ruffled curls. Their disobedience made him smile and he leaned in to ruffle them up more, before stealing a quick kiss and then climbing into the tub. It was a gentle, easy process. The last thing Simba wanted to do was bust his ass in the bathtub. He didn’t think his pride would ever recover from that. He’d be labeled an old man forever, for sure, if that happened.

He made it in without incident, laying his head back against the edge and sighing as the water immediately started working over all his sore muscles. Drawing up the knee closest to the side of the tub Ber was standing at, he stretched his injured one out along the other edge of the tub, still giving Berlioz plenty of room to get in and get situated.

“Sorry, dunno if I can bend it all the way just yet,” Simba told him, with a thin smile that, honestly, looked more like a grimace. It was all he was really willing to say on the matter, as much as he was willing to admit about how much it was really bothering him. He knew that Berlioz knew. No reason talking about it.

“We can just squeeze in, though, eh?” He tried to turn it into something a bit cheekier, but it fell a bit flat. Not that he could mind that much, the water was like a cocoon, keeping him from the worst parts of pride and embarrassment.

BERLIOZ: There were all these little ways you showed someone you trusted and loved them. It was a language he and Simba learned many years ago, though every time they were together, they practiced it-- worked on perfecting it-- some days better than others.

Right now, love was Simba taking off his armor and telling Berlioz, dunno if I can bend it all the way just yet.

Right now, love was Berlioz nodding, and saying nothing more about it. Not I told you so! Or See? Or I was right, wasn’t I?

There might come a time when Berlioz would have to say those things. His gentleness could be a soft place for Simba to land, but too often it could be the opposite: a wall for Simba to hide behind. The difficult part, the thing that Berlioz was still learning, was the difference. He wanted to say all sorts of things, see, about Simba going to the doctor’s, and it might be a good idea for him to do a round of physical therapy, but it’d come across as nagging and ruin a perfectly warmed bath. So Berlioz left these concerns out of the tub as he climbed in, sliding in like a knife through butter. He scrunched his nose as he fit his slender body against Simba’s as if it was so difficult. But they had plenty of space, even if they’d talked about wanting an even bigger tub-- could never have too big a tub, eh?

He sidled up right next to him, and then draped his arm around Simba’s shoulders, dripping water down Simba’s arm. He leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Mmm,” he hummed right up against his face, and then smiled and chuckled at himself.

“Are you already worrying about Kion?” he asked, cupping water in his hand and once again trailing it down Simba’s arm and chest. “He’ll be okay, y’know. His roommate seemed nice.”

SIMBA: No, Simba was not worrying about Kion as his very naked husband slid into the tub next to him. Ber’s skin was soft as silk beneath the water and Simba was relaxing. His arm stretched along the back of the tub so Ber could tuck himself right up against him. As Ber settled, the water lapping at their chests, Simba moved his arm down, scooping up some water himself and dripping it over Ber’s shoulder before resting his hand there.

He shivered a bit at Ber doing the same to him, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

And then, he snorted and cracked one eye open because--

Yeah, all of that was a lie and Simba was trying very, very hard not to fret. How could he not, though? His baby cousin was setting things on fire. Which wasn’t so much a concern for Kion’s safety, since apparently he was immune to it...but a concern for everyone and everything around him. And Kion’s own mental health too. If he was anything like Simba, he was blaming himself for what had happened at his mother’s rehabilitation center.

“Mm,” Simba hummed noncommittally, shifting in the tub slightly. “I’m not so much worried about if his roommate is nice than I am about his roommate being flame-retardant. I promised Auntie Melkit I’d look after him but I doubt he’s going to make that easy for me. And I worry about Ashlee too and what she thinks of all this. I don’t want her thinking we’re just gonna forget about her, move onto the next project or whatever. She still needs a lot of care and security and reassurance.”

He huffed and then sighed out, moving his fingers to dance up and down the curve of Ber’s shoulder, breathing in time with it, like those little gifs that helped you calm yourself down.

BERLIOZ: Right, there was the whole set-things-on-fire thing.

Admittedly, that wasn’t a normal fresher problem to have. When Berlioz had enrolled--felt like a lifetime ago-- he’d skipped the whole dorm thing altogether. Maybe if he hadn’t met Simba, he’d have opted in, something kinda charming and alluring about dipping outta the Bonfamille manor for a cramped, old, cold dorm with total strangers. He visited Pep’s dorm plenty and imagined that scenario, but it was always so removed from him. What would my life be like? He wondered, and the answer was always a different Berlioz, someone farther from the person he was turning out to be: that bloke who drank himself into blackholes and hopped from party to party every night. He felt like he’d escaped something, getting to return to the cabin-- to a warm bed where he was never alone, and to pancakes in the morning.

He wondered if Kion wouldn’t have it better too, find the whole thing a bit smoother. Coming to another country was hard enough without magic to balance and a new roommate. Berlioz would probably set shit on fire too.

But y’know. On the other hand. He wasn’t like Berlioz at all. He was friendly and hardworking and good at the core, good like Simba. Berlioz didn’t think he had the same innate goodness, which was why he had to surround himself with a place that was gonna bring out the best in him, instead of indulge the worst. For Kion, maybe it was the opposite. He needed to find himself away from his family, and figure out what it all meant.

Still, it was all risky, no real right answer (there never was one).

“I don’t think she will--I mean, she understands,” said Berlioz. He twisted in the tub as well, leaning his elbow on the side as he leaned on his hand. “At least, as long as he lives in the dorms...gives ‘em both space. Y’know, the school can be a kinda support network for Kion too. It’s not just on you,” Berlioz pointed out. “He’s not the first magick kid by a long shot.”

SIMBA: Simba didn’t think Ashlee understood. It was too simple to say that she understood. The whole thing was complicated. Part of Simba felt really guilty for that.

He felt guilty that he was bringing in someone new to Ashlee’s safe space, just as she was starting to get comfortable. They’d talked about it at length, but he still had a sneaking suspicion that she’d said yes because she didn’t want to be the one kicked out (though, that’d never happen) or she didn’t want to feel like a burden, even though Simba had just told her that Kion could stay with his mum and it wouldn’t be a big deal.

He felt guilty that all of this was happening while Berlioz was still dealing with the truth about his father--or lack thereof. Ber didn’t talk about it and every time Simba even hedged at bringing it up, Ber shrugged and curled in on himself, which is how Simba knew it wasn’t dealt with. And how could it be? Nothing had come of it.

It frustrated him and made him worry. He had felt the walls between them and he wondered if Kion would just be another to hide behind.

In the warmth of the bath, it felt like some of those walls were coming down, but Simba still worried that he wouldn’t be able to peel them back far enough. Thinking about it all made the weight feel heavy on his shoulders, though the weight was good. Simba had always wanted to play at Atlas, holding everyone else up. He just wasn’t sure these days how good a job he did at something like that.

“I know that,” Simba said, sucking his teeth. He leaned his head against the back of the tub, looking up at the ceiling. “But, Auntie Mel wants me to look out for him. And it isn’t like they can’t not discipline him if he sets the dorm on fire or disrupts class too frequently. I just--want him to adjust. I want Ashlee to adjust. I want us to adjust.” He looked over at Ber then, his hand trailing along his hip under the water. “To all this. How’re you feeling?” Simba hadn’t really had a chance to ask him yet. Everything with Kion had happened so quickly. Their lives sometimes felt like a constant game of dominios.

BERLIOZ: Berlioz knew, immediately, what Simba was talkin’ about. Not about Ashlee or Kion-- though maybe a little-- but about Berlioz being a bastard all along.

Like always, Berlioz really didn’t wanna talk about it.

He still didn’t know how to, and in a way, the longer everything went on without Berlioz doing anything, the smaller the news got, till it was so tiny Ber felt like he could shove it back into some deep dark hole and never think about it again. Wasn’t pretending it away better than dealing with it anyhow? Simba would say no, but Simba wasn’t the one who was holding this massive truth in one hand, a truth like a gun cocked and pointed at his own father. Or, not his father. Hector Bonfamille. The man whose name was branded onto Berlioz’s own, even if he wasn’t the real father on his birth certificate. Hilarious really, how Adelaide had done that. She probably thought it was some kinda fucked-up way to make it up to Pere, and thus Ber’s own middle name had now transformed into a constant reminder of her guilt and bullshit.

So yeah. Dealing with it probably meant telling Pere. Which meant maybe losing his father-- or at least creating yet another obstacle for the two of ‘em. Wasn’t Berlioz’s whole personality enough of a hurdle for them to jump?

Why complicate things further?

Why risk more rejection?

Why hurt, possibly, Lou and Marie in the process? If things went bad, then he knew Lou was gonna pick Ber’s side. Marie though, she’d stick up for Pere. They were barely healing their wounds between them. Why shove Ber’s issues right in the middle of all that and give everyone somethin’ else to fight about?

He hated his maman for all this, but at the same time, he understood her perfectly. She’d kept her mouth shut because it protected everyone. So now it was probably Ber’s job to shut up and do the same. He carried plenty of thoughts like splinters in his life. He could hold another. Death by a thousand cuts, right? Ber hadn’t reached his quota-- yet.

So Ber was gonna just play stupid. He shrugged. “Me? I’m fine. Ashlee’s quiet. Nothin’ at all like Kiara, so I like her a lot.” He smiled at this mini-joke (though ‘course he missed Kiara too, honestly-- all that noise and chaos). “And I like Kion, y’know I like Kion. And it’s not like I’m the one whose gotta play mentor and all that-- not that...I mean. I dunno, I don’t think they’re gonna come to me for advice.” Another shrug. “You can though.” He ducked his head down and kissed at Simba’s wet shoulder, sucking just a little at the water there. His lips trailed up, leaving feather-light kisses. “If you need advice.” Another kiss at his jaw, Ber’s lips in a smile. “I’m very smart, y’know.”

SIMBA: There was the wall.

It was the same one that had been between them all day. Berlioz looking at him and thinking “do something about your knee” and Simba thinking “no.” Except—there was a difference between Simba ignoring his knee injury and Berlioz ignoring this life-altering change. Was it hypocritical to think this? Shouldn’t Simba realize that if he couldn’t even fix his own small problem, what made him think Ber was gonna fix his giant one? Yes, he should, but that didn’t mean he was going to. Instead, he was going to be irritated.

Sally’s voice was in the back of his head, telling him not to push. Telling him to wait and be patient, but Simba had never been good at that. He’d been patient. It’d been months now! His patience was running very thin.

Berlioz kissed him, his lips hot on Simba’s shoulder.

Simba was still annoyed at the nonanswer.

Ber’s lips tickled their way up his collarbone, making Simba shiver, despite the heat of the water.

He was still annoyed—

Ber smiled at him and Simba’s annoyance crumbled like leaves crushed underfoot on the sidewalk. He let out a huff that was half annoyed, half amused. His hand moved over Ber’s hip under the water as he turned his head down so he could catch Ber’s eye.

“That so?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow before leaning in to kiss him. It was softer, gentler than he meant it to be—he wanted it to spark, so that Ber would know he was still irritated and knew Ber was avoiding. But, he was also…grateful for Ber, knowing that his guidance was offered despite all the rest: Ber’s annoyance at Simba for not taking care of himself and Simba’s annoyance at Ber for his avoidance.

When the kiss broke, Simba was smiling softly. “You know, you can come to me for advice too,” he said, even though he knew that Ber knew that. And maybe, despite knowing it hurt that Ber didn’t, even when the offer was plain and right there for the taking. “I may not be smart, but I think I’ve got a good grasp on some of the other important things.”

Like people. Like family. Like love.

BERLIOZ: Berlioz’s eyebrows crinkled for a single second. His hand moved of its own accord, lifting from the water to cup Simba’s cheek and gently stroke over the apple of it with his thumb. “Oi. You’re smart,” he said softly.

And he hesitated-- that lid on the box shifting, threatening to pop off and spill all of Ber’s fears into the tub.

He didn’t want Simba to think he wasn’t smart, or that Ber didn’t trust him, or any of that, and he knew that his husband probably did think those things. This wasn’t the first time Simba tried to prod. It wasn’t the first time Ber’s heart tugged itself toward Simba, his tongue dangerously loose in his mouth. But it never loosened enough. Because it wasn’t about Simba at all, it just wasn’t. He knew Simba would say all sorts of lovely things and that all those lovely things would be objectively right, but that didn’t mean they’d sink in or fix the piece in Berlioz that had been completely shattered by the news. And Berlioz didn’t know if he could talk back, which was an important part of a conversation. He had tried, y’know. Simba didn’t know he tried, but there were nights he twisted toward Simba in the sheets, staring at the fuzzy dark shape of his husband’s body, and he rehearsed each sentence carefully. He’d think it over, he’d lick his lips, he'd take a breath, and then it wouldn’t come out. He’d keep staring, until Simba’s breathing turned into light snoring and the moment was gone, Berlioz full of regret and frustration at himself and wondering why he was making it a big deal, and he should go back to making it not a big deal, so when the morning came and Simba tried to ask him, he simply shrugged.

He felt ridiculous-- that feeling getting deeper and heavier and harder to fight against the longer he didn’t talk about it. Like, he’d already missed the chance or something. Like, he’d be taking up too much space if he tried to talk about it now, where there were bigger problems: Kion’s problems, Ashlee’s problems. After all, he had the love of his siblings still, so… so what? So get over it already, Berlioz.

So that same push and pull inside of him happened here in the tub, as if the still water were an ocean current, trying to drag Berlioz into the sea of his turmoil.

He hesitated, wondering if saying something would be the kinda anchor that held him in place, or the kinda anchor that dragged him down.

Simba probably saw that hesitation in his eyes, and suddenly he was aware of his nakedness in a way that made him ashamed.

Berlioz’s eyes dropped, looking at Simba’s collarbone instead.

SIMBA: Blast, this was frustrating.

Simba’s jaw ticked, just slightly, as he saw the words swimming dark in Berlioz’s eyes. He knew his husband. Really, he did. He knew his hesitations when they came. Simba had learned better to anticipate them. They had come less frequently too, when it was just the two of them, cozy in the bath or cozy in their bed, or cozy in the breakfast nook. He hadn’t tried to trick Ber into anything, but he had hoped that the warm water would loosen Ber’s tongue, like it loosened the stretched, aching ligaments of Simba’s knee.

He had the suspicion that Ber’s heart probably felt much the same way: taut and knotted, like a rope was being pulled in two separate directions. Simba didn’t even know what those directions might be—and that was probably what frustrated and worried him the most. He knew that his husband was prone to thinking the worse case scenarios, but in this case, what could the worse case scenario be? That his family would hate him?

Toulouse and Marie had already proved that wasn’t the case.

And look, Simba knew this wasn’t simple. He knew it. That is why he wanted Berlioz to talk to him. Tell him anything. Tell him everything. He wanted to beg, because he was worried. He didn’t know what this was doing to his husband, he only felt the walls getting higher between him. He had a fucking busted knee, Berlioz, don’t make him climb over the damn garden wall again. He wasn’t spry enough for that kind of thing.

Not that he wouldn’t. If it came to it. Simba would injure himself again, just to get Ber to talk to him.

That memory softened him somewhat. The warm bath softened him. Ber’s sweet face, his brow heavy with all of those dark thoughts, softened him.

So, he didn’t yell and shake his shoulders, like might want to.

Instead, he just sighed. It was a disappointed sigh, he knew Ber would hear it and know that too, but he couldn’t help it and he didn’t want to bother concealing it. Still, his arm moved to rub up and down Ber’s arm gently, the water trickling like a metronome as it dripped from Simba’s skin to Berlioz’s skin to the water.

“It’s alright,” Simba told him. Even if it wasn’t. He kissed his damp hairline. “I’ll be here.” Whenever you want to talk.

BERLIOZ: Today he’d been thinking about husband points, knowing that system was fake and everything, but still sort of taking it seriously anyway. You could do both, or at least Ber thought so. You could invent a game of husband points for yourself as a way to make fun of husband points, but you could also do it and realize that being a good husband was a choice, and a skill, and it was good to practice and you had to practice every day. Ber was constantly practicing. Not even in a neurotic, anxious way-- that’s probably what it seemed like. He just checked in with himself some days, especially because of this whole bullshit bastard bomb dropped in his lap. And he asked himself, had he told Simba that he loved him? Had he told Simba that he appreciated him? If he couldn’t remember, he’d go wandering, find his husband, and kiss him, and feel better-- not just about himself but also...felt better in general… and that’s how Simba helped him, really, even if he knew Simba wanted to do more.

And so right now, he was kinda neurotically checking his points against this tied tongue of his. Did these seconds of hesitation render all those other points gained today null and void?

Well that’s stupid, thought Ber. Objectively, that was stupid. Objectively, if he told Simba about all of his tangled thoughts, Simba would tell him to please let go of those stupid husband points.

Still, here he was thinking about husband points. Wanting to be a good husband. Wanting to earn the trust and patience that Simba was giving him, so badly.

Ber swallowed and he-- he tried.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna…” he started, though that was half a lie. “It’s just--” Voice caught. He sighed and slowly sunk into the water, just a little more. He felt like a kid, wanting to go hide. Not from Simba, just… y’know, he needed time to practice what he wanted to say, could emerge once he had the script right.

Only that’s what he’d been doing for weeks now and still he said nothing.

“I dunno what to say. I just feel stupid about it all the time. I don’t like thinking about it or dealing with it.” He finally said and shook his head. “Like it was better I never found out at all, so I should just pretend I never did.”

SIMBA: Wow, shit, being patient actually worked.

Simba was honestly surprised. See: trying to get Ber to talk when he was upset was like trying to tune the engine of the most expensive car in the world. (This was a compliment, as much as it was frustrating, because of course Simba would compare his husband to a car.) You had to get it perfectly balanced. Just right. Push too hard and Ber would retreat, never to come out. Push too little and Berlioz would take his thoughts to his grave. Simba wasn’t good at this balance. He always felt like he pushed too hard. Sometimes, even after Ber had opened up to him, Simba felt like he’d messed up and pushed too hard.

The thing was: he usually didn’t wait. He demanded explanations immediately. He didn’t like being kept in the dark. It made him feel like Ber didn’t want to tell him things. Or that he didn’t trust him with them. It had been a long time since Simba had fucked up that badly in their relationship, but sometimes those scars still lingered. This was one of those ways: in Simba’s own impatience.

He was gonna have to buy Sally an edible arrangement or something. It was partially on her advice that he’d tried to give Ber his space, even if he hated that. Giving Ber space didn’t feel natural to him. Especially since being married, Simba had never felt closer to someone before. He was obsessed with Berlioz all over again, wanted to be in the same room with him all the time, wanted to talk to him, wanted to kiss him and feel him up in inappropriate situations. He wanted to climb inside Ber’s heart and live there with him.

But, the last few months, it had felt cold between them. Even when they were close, it was like there was a sheet between them, or a plate of glass.

Now, as soon as Ber started talking that craving for closeness came back. Simba wanted to wrap his arms around Ber and hold him until they melted together. He couldn’t help the smile that twitched on his face, the eagerness sparking in his eyes. Part of him wanted to kiss Ber’s face all over.

Instead, he just sighed again and then leaned in to kiss him. It wasn’t a hot kiss or one full of want. It was just a kiss. Maybe, if it said anything, it said: “thank you.”

“I kinda get that, y’know,” Simba told Ber as he settled back against the tub, his arm still around Ber, his fingers painting nonsensical patterns on his shoulder. He looked up at the ceiling. “When I found out I didn’t kill my dad. Sometimes, I still kind of wish I thought I had because—it just changes so much, y’know? I have to look back on all those years and try to…make sense of them. I think there are a lot of things in life that will make you feel that way. Grief, mainly, though.” He turned and looked at Ber then.

“It—hurts a lot…but it’s okay to feel like that, I think. The problem is that you do know so…you’ve gotta find a way to live with that now.”

BERLIOZ: But I don’t want to, reared up the most childish voice inside of Berlioz-- that same six-year-old who hid under the bed and refused to come out for parties, had to be physically dragged out, and then pouted the whole time as Nounou gelled his hair and fixed those uncomfortable bowties around his throat.

But he didn’t. He’d been pretending this whole time cuz he didn’t want his life to change even though it already had-- there was a huge gap where Adelaide used to be, since he blatantly refused to talk to her still. Ber knew that he should forgive her, but how could he when forgiving her felt like...accepting that it was all true? The next step would be talking to Pere, because he couldn’t remain in the dark. And after that it was all an avalanche.

Because as much as he appreciated Simba relating to him, it wasn’t the same at all. Learning he hadn’t killed his father was a good thing. It changed everything, but in good ways. Simba wanted to take on that adjustment. Everyone had been better for it-- Simba, Berlioz, Nala, Kiara, Sarabi.

But Berlioz held a bomb. Didn’t Simba see that? He held a bomb and he could make everything worse for everyone if he decided to hand that bomb to his father.

It felt-- stupid and selfish.

“It’s not just me though,” he said this, his voice betraying his frustration, even though it remained small and muted. He wanted to dunk his whole fucking head under the water, let his brain become bubbles so he’d just stop thinking.

“Like if it was just me, fine, I guess. Nothing I decide would matter at all, whether I deal with it or not. But I could really fuck everything up, y’know, if Pere reacts badly and then Lou gets mad at him and then Marie gets mad at Lou and-- and if I wanna find the bastard, and if I have half-siblings-- that could just hurt Lou and Marie too. Or what if Pere uses this as some kinda sick revenge against Maman? It’s fucked, Simba.”

SIMBA: Simba thought it could be a good thing.

Maybe it wouldn’t, that was true. Everything Ber said was…in a way, valid. It was the worse case scenario option. The nuclear option.

He would never label himself the most…positive guy in the world. If he saw a glass that was half-filled up, he’d probably say it was half-full, but only because half-empty sounded stupid. And it was easier, these days, to try to be happy. Simba still held a lot of weight. They were all in the form of regrets: regrets for not doing things sooner, for not being more honest, for not listening to his heart or listen to others.

So, maybe that was why he thought that maybe it would be best just to do it. Ber could break all the bones and then start to heal them, instead of letting them set all wrong inside of himself first. The longer he wrestled with it alone, the harder it would be. Simba knew that, for sure. Maybe the secret he had been keeping hadn’t been real, but in the days when he had kept it to himself and let it chew on his soul like moths on an old woman’s clothes, still had done their damage. Taken their toll on him. And he didn’t want that for Berlioz. He would do anything to shield his husband from that. It hurt him, to see Ber going through something even remotely like it.

He leaned in and kissed Ber’s cheek again, touching his lips to Ber’s warm, wet skin several times before he pulled back with a soft smile, his brows furrowed and his eyes wet and open wide, the emotion plain.

“Maybe, just—try not to think so much about the ifs…they’re only going to drive you up a wall. You can’t ever know how someone is going to react to news like this and…the longer you go with letting it eat away at your relationship, the worse it’s gonna get. I dunno if you remember but I put you through the ringer outta that exact same fear.” He squeezed Ber’s bicep gently from where his arm was wrapped around Ber’s slim, pale shoulders. He pressed his forehead against the side of Ber’s head.

“Have you talked to your brother or sister about any of this? Maybe they’d have some insight. Or, I dunno, just try to take it a step at a time. Figure out what part of it is the least scary or…the most important. Go from there.”

BERLIOZ: Ber’s lips cracked in a smile, there and then gone. If he acted fast enough, he might be able to divert this conversation away from himself. Say somethin’ about how Ber didn’t remember any such thing-- past was past and all that-- and then dress Simba up in compliments and warm kisses, tasting of suds and water. He knew exactly how to draw Simba’s attention, and then hold it. Though maybe it wouldn’t work this time, with Simba’s attention already on him, though not quite in the way Berlioz preferred.

Sides, he never talked fast enough. Words stuck. Strategies paused. And Simba moved on, though stayed so close, comforting Berlioz, if nothin’ else, with the press of his forehead against Berlioz’s temple, with his body close and familiar.

Maybe none of this really mattered, cuz at least Simba was outside of it. Was that the real reason Ber kept wanting to push Simba away from it? It’s messy Bonfamille drama, he thought over and over. And he liked his messy Bonfamille drama away from Simba.

Simba, though, would get peeved as hell at him for that. I’m a Bonfamille-Lyons, he’d say, all proud for no reason.

Still. Bonfamille or not, if Ber’s family blew up, this never would. He’d have their home. He’d have these walls that couldn’t get knocked down.

“Marie says she’d wanna know everything,” he answered Simba with all this churning in the back of his mind. His shoulders lifted in the water, then plopped down. “I get why. She hates being out of the know on anythin’.”

He didn’t ask Lou. Maybe he should ask Lou. He felt like Lou was gonna tell Berlioz to do whatever he wanted to do, which would be unhelpful.

“Maybe I’ll just ask Lou to tell Pere,” he said next with a snort. But seriously--his stomach clenched at the thought of telling his father, way way more painful than Marie. “Or maybe I’ll email it. Ha.”

SIMBA: Simba asked Ber what his siblings thought, and while Ber thought about his answer, Simba thought about the question.

If Simba had found out that his father was not his father...

What would that mean? What would he want to do? His immediate thought was get to the bottom of it. He’d want to know who his real father was. He’d based so much of his life on being a Lyons. If he had a different dad, none of that would’ve mattered—

And that thought punched him in the gut, because he knew it wasn’t true.

Mufasa had raised him. Even if it wasn’t clearly obvious that they were related: their big, loud laughs almost identical, the way people used to call Simba Mufasa’s clone—Mufasa had raised him and that made him more of a father than any other man in Simba’s life. And he didn’t think he’d love his father any less. And how would his father have felt if he’d wanted to go find this other man who clearly didn’t have any interest in raising him? Calling him his real father?

Simba couldn’t imagine how painful that would be. At this point in time, Simba wasn’t sure he’d ever have kids of his own. He’d only have these hodge podge adoptions like Kiara and Ashlee. He wasn’t their father, but—he felt like it, in a way. And it’d hurt, if Kiara ever rejected the role that he had played in her life for someone else that she didn’t even know.

He knew he couldn’t compare, because even if it was the same situation, Ber and Simba were completely different people. Which could be as frustrating as it was valuable. Ber made Simba see the world differently, more complexly, because at the end of the day, to Simba:

Hector was Berlioz’s father. Whether by blood or not. Surely, Hector would see that too.

Simba chuckled a little at Ber’s avoidance, not really surprised by it.

“Okay, as much as I want to let you figure this out yourself, you can’t email him, Berlioz.” Simba shook his head at him fondly. “He still raised you, he deserves more than an email. But, I’m sure—Lou would go with you, whenever you do tell him. Or—I’d go, if you want me there. You don’t have to do it alone, is all I’m saying. You know Lou will be in your corner no matter what. And so will I.” He kissed him once, softly, his hand cupping his cheek.

BERLIOZ: Ber wasn’t sure if he owed Pere more than an email.

Because look, it wasn’t like he’d been the world’s best father anyway. It was yet another layer to this whole fiasco. Before, Berlioz thought about his father with ambivalence and a mild level of discomfort, not because Hector Bonfamille was a bad man, necessarily, but because he and Hector literally had nothing in common. He’d always gotten the impression that he was a bit of a pill to deal with. Pere tried, sure, but maybe only out of obligation, or image, or because like his mother, Pere liked to be liked. Still, Pere’s version of trying was taking Berlioz to the same handful of restaurants for painful one-on-ones that usually ended with Pere talking at Berlioz, giving him advice when Ber didn’t need advice...that kind of thing. Seldom did Pere even bother to ask what Berlioz would like to do.

To be equally fair, Berlioz never offered.

The closest the two of them had ever come was attending a Bowie concert once, years and years ago. Berlioz had been 12. He still remembered all the details though, just like it was yesterday. Pere got them seats right by the stage. He remembered the lights and Pere letting Ber sip out of his beer and how they hadn’t talked at all, but sang along to all the songs, bobbed their heads to the same beat.

There was no chance for something like that ever again. And when Berlioz told his father the truth? Would even this one memory be ruined?

So, yeah. It would kind of be in character for Ber to deliver the news via email, which is how he checked up with Pere anyway. Just slip it in along with his usual two line update.

It was either that or. The holidays.

Imagine ruining Christmas.

“I...know you are. And that’s all that really matters to me, y’know. That I got you,” said Berlioz. He sighed though. “But…. I’ll... think about it.

And he would. He would think about it like he had been thinking about it, would go round and round about it and never make any progress. He smiled gently and then leaned against Simba, just letting himself sink a little further into the tub.

#swynberlioz #simber #floating like a lilo #otp: cuddle if you'd like #otp: someday #otp: climbing over walls #otp: stupid beautiful boy #otp: i think you're lovely #otp: socked feet and ALL #otp: true love's kiss #otp: i wanna make plans with you #otp: let's go to vegas

1 note · View note

zanybohbot · 5 years ago

Text

The Outsiders: Camp Squit

The Outsiders: Camp Squit (Episode 4)

Published: 10-19-19 - Updated: 10-21-19

Squit planned an idea of what's happening in this weekend as he planned to go camping with Pinky, Brain, Pesto and Wakko. Will the others ruin it for him? Will it cause cringy chaos? Read what happens and find out. This is the 4th fanfiction episode of The Outsiders.

Part 1: The Arrival

(Brain is driving in the woods with Squit, Pinky, Pesto and Wakko for their camping trip.)

Squit: As we're near, I thought I'd run through the itinerary for this weekend.

Wakko: What's an itinerary?

Pesto: (annoyed) Squit's way of taking the piss outta everything?

Squit: No, it's just a schedule of what we'll do and when we'll do it.

Pinky: Okay, item one, get your shit off my side of the car! (pushes Squit's suitcase)

Squit: It's not shit. It's essentials for everyone to make the trip more enjoyable!

Pinky: Oh, really? (Gets out Monopoly from Squit's suitcase) Monopoly?! Y'fuckin' serious?! This is tha most shitty-ass game you've ever bought! Look. All we need is beer and weed and I've got plenty of both.

Squit: Why have you brought a load of weed?

Pinky: In case I get lucky and stoned.

Squit: But we're camping by a lake near a woods.

Pinky: Listen, all these country bitches love some big city diugh.

Squit: You're not from the big city!

Pinky: Well growing up in da hood counts as a city to them!

Brain: (frustrated) Pesto, look at the map, please! Where is it?!

Pesto (checks phone) Uhhh...I dunno. It's around here somewhere. Th-the next left or something.

Brain: (sarcastically) And that's what Google Maps says, "The next left or something"?

Pesto: Sorry, dude, I'm running outta brain juice. What if I have to literally give birth with the babe from Walmart I had sex with? Can you imagine how fuckin' disgusting that'll be, watching that baby getting squeezed outta her ass?

Squit: Okay, I've got some news, Pesto. Do ya...

Pesto: Oh, here we are, B. Turn left.

(Brain turns left to the nearest forest.)

Brain: Oh, Jesus Christ, it stinks. Is it near a pig farm, Pesto?

Pesto: Sorry, that was me. It just slipped out.

(they all gag and moan by the smell)

Pinky: What?! (holds nose)

Brain: Ugh! I can't believe that's the smell of your ass!

Squit: I think I'm gonna throw up!

Wakko: I can fucking see it! It's like a brown mist!

(Squit N/R: Despite Pesto's anxious bowels burning our eyes and choking our lungs, we made it to the forest. I'd researched this place online and it certainly delivered. Secluded. Remote. Beautiful.)

(All 5 were standing in the forest.)

Pesto: So...where do we shit?

Squit: What?

Pesto: When we need to shit, where do we shit?

Pinky: Hang on, he's right. Where are we gonna shit?

Squit: Well, usually, you'd place a trench at least.

Pesto: Well, what trench, smart-ass?!

Squit: The toilet trench.

Wakko: Where you place the public bathrooms?

Squit: No, it's where you DO a public bathroom.

Pesto: (whacks Squit in the head) Fuck you, I'm not shittin' in a trench! Dafuq's the matter with ya?!

Pinky: Dude, you're fuckin' high.

Brain: I'm not going near a hole filled with your shit!

Squit: (rubbing his head) No. We each get our own trench. That's what I'm sayin'.

Brain: (sarcastically) Oh, OK. Yeah 'coz that makes sense!

Wakko: We're camping surrounded by shit?

Pinky: No! No-one's shittin' in a trench! That's disgustin', I'm not gonna do it! We'll have to drive to tha bar or a convenience store or something.

Pesto: Shit there?

Pinky: Shit there.

Wakko: Good idea.

Brain: Agreed.

Pinky: Then, that's decided, write that down, Squit, item two.

Squit: Could do. Or you could remember to shit in the bar when we're there anyways?! Now, c'mon. Let's get this tent up.

Pesto: I need to go now, tho.

Squit: What? Just hold it in!

Pesto: I can't, I get emotional.

Squit: We only just got here, Pesto! Camp first, shit second!

Pesto: I don't think I can, I'm honestly gettin' teary here, it feels like it's trying to push its way back up into my stomach!

Wakko: Great. I need one now, too.

Brain: What about that gas station we've just past?

Pesto: (panicking, holding his ass) Oh, God, the snake's out the cave!

Squit: Fine. Everyone, back in the car.

(They got back in the car and drove to the nearest gas station.)

(Squit N/R: So our camping trip was shortly delayed while Pesto left what he described as "King Kong's finger" in the Welcome Break bathrooms. Pesto genuinely felt better about life after unloading a massive turd. And now the car was unloaded, so did I.)

(Back at the forest.)

Squit: First need to clear the ground, make sure the site is safe and then put up our tent.

Pinky: Fuck dat, let's just crack open the beers and build a fuckin' massive fire up in this bitch!

Squit: You can't just build a fire. It takes preparation. I mean, have we even asked the landowner's permission?

Brain: (frustrated) Squit, c'mon! I didn't come here for a refresher course in the Countryside Code. I just wanna get pissed and have fun. Otherwise, I won't be able to do any of this in Wales.

Pinky: What, 'coz there's no fields?

Brain: No, 'coz I won't have any friends of my kind.

Pinky: You won't need friends. Welsh hoes are totally horny.

Brain: Are they?

Pinky: Yeah. Pretty much all British porn stars are Welsh, even though they are popular here in America. Most of them don't even get paid, they just do it for dick.

Brain: (sarcastically) Oh, OK, made-up sluts. Now I'm glad I'm going to Swansea. Oh, fucking hell, Swansea! I have to see my grandpa for a WHOLE WEEK in Swansea!

Squit: Fine, Brain, look if you really want, I'll build you a fire. Y'all put the tent up, I'll go and find some suitable wood and kindling.

Wakko: All right, Akela. HA!

Squit: But remember, fire is an element, it must be respected.

(He leaves to find some wood.)

(Squit N/R: Camping's all about self-reliance and teamwork. And I knew I could rely on myself to create the perfect camp and my team fucking it all up.)

(When he came back, he saw his stuff from his suitcase being burnt down with fire as his suitcase was open, it causes him to have a panic attack and drops all of the wood he just found.)

Squit: WHAT...THE...FUCK HAVE YA DONE!?

Pinky: Y'okay, Squit?

Wakko: (tried to hand Squit a cooked sausage) Want a sausage?

Pesto: Calm down. I just got it going and I didn't even need a fire gay's badge.

Pinky: Nah, just some diesel.

Squit: You put diesel on it? Wait a minute. Is that my fold-out table on the fire? (gasp) And my picnic basket?!

Pinky: I thought you said look for stuff to burn.

Squit: (getting angry) Wood, burn fucking wood, not my stuff! Oh, for Christ's sake! Why would ya do that?!

Pesto: Look, someone had to take charge of this weekend or it's gonna be all Monopoly and shitting in trenches!

Brain: Look, come on, sit down, have some weed, have a beer, have a sausage. Just chill.

Squit: I'll chill when y'all stop burning up my fuckin' valuable possessions to dust!

Pinky: (teasing) Oh, but I thought they were for "everyone"?

Squit: Yes, for everyone to use, not to burn up with! God.

(Wakko saw the fire going down so he puts Squit's fold-out chair on top of it.)

Squit: What the hell are you doing now?!

Wakko: Fire's going down.

Squit: (getting furious) STOP...BURNING...MY...THINGS!

Wakko: (angrily) Sorry, I forgot. (flips his chair off the fire) Jeez!

(Squit N/R: We were barely an hour from home, but somehow that meant that burning my possessions was not only OK, but hilarious.)

Part 2: R.I.P. Brain's Shitty Car

(Squit was sitting down still looking pissed off because of what happened earlier.)

Brain: Oh, come on, we're sorry. It was just a joke.

Wakko: We'll do whatever you want to cheer you up.

Pinky: Anything you like.

Squit: (smiled) Game of Monopoly?

(The others moan about this)

Pinky: Oh, fuck off!

Pesto: Boooooooooooooo! Y'suck!

Brain: Apart from that.

Pinky: Look, if you wanna play a game, I've got a proper game, not a shitty one, especially Monopoly. Though thinking about it, y'all might be too pussy to play.

Wakko: It's not that game that you used to play with your weird neighbour in his shed, is it?

Pinky: (looks nervous) Well, that never happened.

Wakko: Yeah, you told me about 8 years ago. Just after he moved away.

Pinky: No, I never. Shut up, dumbass!

(Wakko looks confused)

Pinky: OK, to start with, y'all have to swap phones. Squit, you swap with mine. Brain, I'll swap with your phone. Wakko and Pesto can swap each others and Pesto can swap with Squit.

(They all swap phones.)

Brain: Okay...now what?

Pinky: Now you text someone in their phone book. So when you text someone, they'll think it's from him.

Wakko: So does that mean I have to write it all posh and like all hurdy wurdy durdy?

Pinky: Nope. The only rule is you can write whatever you like and no-one can stop you.

Squit: I just wanna say, for the record, there's no way anything good can come outta this.

Pinky: Whatever. Ready? Go.

(They all text.)

Pinky: I've only got five numbers in my phone, and four of them are four of y'all, so do ya worst.

Pesto: Well, as long as one of the others is Squit's mama, you're still in trouble.

Squit: (looking disgusted) Pesto, come on, that's too much.

Pinky: Sorry, it's literally the point of the game, y'know.

Squit: Awww...fuck. Fine!

Pinky: Right, homies, finished?

Wakko: (finished texting) That's it, send 'em.

Pinky: Good, now swap back.

(They swapped back their phones.)

Pinky: Good, so I wrote, from Brain's phone to Billie, "Bills, I love you from the bottom of my ding-a-ling. The thought of leaving you is making me cum." (laughs)

Brain: (embarrassed) Oh, god.

Pinky: "And I'm using those tears as lube to jerk myself off with."

Brain: (sarcastically/disgusted) Gee, thanks, Pinky.

Squit: Don't worry, B, I texted Pinky's dad and wrote, "Dad, I'm just thinking about you."

Pinky: (whispered) Hmph, pussy.

Squit: "I'm in the bath and I'm hard." (laughs)

Pinky: (angrily) Holy fuck! Damnit, you've won this round!

Brain: Pesto? What about you?

Pesto: Fairly standard to Squit's mama. "Ma, it's been 29 years, but I'd love to have another go on your big fake-ass tits."

Squit: (embarrassed) God. No.

Pesto: "Then I'd like to smash in your back doors (anus)."

Squit: (sarcastically) So it'll come up that I've sent her a text, she'll think, "Good, he's just letting me know I'm proud of him," then she'll read that? Yep, thanks Pesto!

Pesto: No probs. Wak, who did you send to?

Wakko: I presume, your dad? I wrote "Your gay as fuck." HA!

(There was a short silence as Pesto looks pissed)

Pesto: (he snatches his phone back from Wakko) Gimme my phone back!

Wakko: Wait, I've also wrote for Saucy Walmart Karen.

Pesto: Wait, did ya?

Wakko: Hell yeah, I've written, "Karen, I love you and love that you are to be the mother of my child. Marry me?"

Pesto: Oh, c'mon!

Pinky: Nice.

Pesto: I only met her a month ago. She smells like cheese most of the time.

Pinky: What, 'coz of all dat dick she sucked?

Pesto: Yes...no...maybe...I DUNNO! God, I thought coming out here would take me mind off it, but the countryside's really boring! It's just a load of fields and rivers. And they don't do anything. They just sit there doing jack, it's not like The Blair Witch Project where people jump out at you.

Pinky: He's right, it is boring.

Wakko: Shall we go back?

Brain: Oh, no, come on, we could go for a swim? Skinny dipping? (The others look slightly disgusted) Yeah, you're right, probably be a bit gay.

Squit: Well, there's always Monopoly.

(They moan once again.)

Pinky: Fuck, fine, as long as I can be the dog.

Squit: Why?

Pinky: Reminds me of Benji.

(Squit N/R: This was great. Camping. Playing board games round the fire as the sun went down. It was like I was back in Cub Scouts, but without the unpleasantness.)

(At night, they were still playing Monopoly.)

Pinky: Miami, with a hotel, that's $1,500 you owe me, Top Hat.

Squit: Can I pay you after I pass Go? I'm nearly there.

Pinky: Nope.

Squit: (frustrated) Oh, c'mon. This is impossible. I can barely see. I've not been able to see anything for fuckin' hours! Let's just stop.

Brain: OK, we'll call it a draw.

Pinky: Fuck you, just because I'm winning and all you've got is just cities!

Pesto: I'm happy to call it a draw, y'know.

Pinky: Course you are, 'coz you were out four hours ago anyway, you fuckin' idiot!

Pesto: Y'all think I'm dumb, but I've got street smarts!

Brain: You got a woman from Walmart pregnant in her lunch hour.

Pesto: (pondered) Oh.

Pinky: I'll build another fire.

Squit: It's too dark to collect wood and you've burnt everything I own!

Pinky: Well, fine, I'll...I'll get Brain's shitty car and shine the lights over here.

Brain: Fine. Here ya go. (hand's Pinky his car keys)

Pinky: Thanks, mah boy!

(Pinky runs to Brain's car and turns on the headlights.)

(Squit N/R: This was embarrassing. I hadn't lost a game of Monopoly since I was 7. And yet I was about to be beaten by Pinky, a man who took pride in the fact that he couldn't count to 100.)

Squit: He really wants to win, doesn't he? I never knew he was so competitive.

Pesto: (eating sausages) I can't get enough of these sausages.

Wakko: (eating sausages) Yeah. I love 'em raw in the middle.

Pinky: Right, done. (he gets out of the car and shuts the door) Mission accomplished! Now you owe me $1,500. And you can pay me right fuckin' now!

(Brain's car was about to roll down into the lake.)

Brain: Pinky, my fucking car! (he stops his car from going down) Handbrake?

Pinky: Oh, shit, sorry.

Brain: Quick, everyone. Stop it!

(The others stopped the car except for Pinky.)

Brain: Pinky, help!

Pinky: Okay, calm your tits! (as he helped stopping the car)

Brain: (tried to unlock it) It's locked. Pinky, throw me the keys.

Pinky: I don't have them.

Brain: The fuck are you talkin' about, what do you mean you don't have them?!

Pinky: I gave them to you.

Brain: No, you didn't.

Pinky: Yeah, I did.

Brain: (getting angry) No, you fucking didn't!

Pinky: Brilliant, someone's gone and lost the fuckin' keys.

Squit: (looks at Pinky while being concerned) Yes, you. You've lost them.

Brain: You must have locked them in the car. (he panics) Oh, God! Oh, God!

Squit: Sorry, Brain. We'll have to smash a window or something.

Brain: (furious) Pinky, you dolt, Imma kill you for that!

Pinky: It's not my fault.

Brain: It is entirely your fault!

Pinky: I always lock my car like that!

Pesto: But yours must be different.

Wakko: It's shitty, for one.

Brain: (sarcastically angry) Thanks, Wak!

Pinky: If my lil' bro was here, he'd be able to get into it in two seconds flat. He used to jack Ferraris in New York City for the Mafia.

Brain: (bops Pinky in the head with a pencil in anger) How is that total bullshit helpful?!

Squit: Enough! OK, you three hold it. We'll go and find something to smash a window with.

Pinky: (rubbing his head looking dizzy) Hey! Why do me, Pesto and Wak have to hold the fuckin' car?!

Squit: Well, obviously, because you three are the strongest.

(Pinky, Pesto and Wakko hold the car.)

Pesto: Huh. It's true, we are.

Brain: What the fuck, why are there no rocks?! It's the countryside! Why aren't there any fuckin' rocks?! What are we gonna smash the window with now?!

Squit: Well, I dunno. Pinky's face?!

(Brain and Squit leave to find the rocks.)

Pinky: My arms hurt. I don't know why they're bothering to get rocks anyways. The way I look at it, it's inevitable that the car's gonna dive into the lake.

Wakko: I suppose it's nature. You can't fight nature.

Pesto: Exactly.

Pinky: It's going in anyway, I'm legitimately sweatin', my arms achin', we might as well just let go.

Pesto: Do you think Brain will kill us all?

Pinky: How can he? He hates it anyways. It's logical. We can't stop it.

Wakko: We are stopping it now.

Pinky: It's inevitable, Wak, trust me. We'll let go after three, do ya hear?

Pesto & Wakko: Gotcha.

Pinky: One, two, three. Go!

(They let go of the car as the car starts rolling down again. Brain and Squit finally got some rocks but Brain saw his car going down as he panicked and dropped the rocks.)

Brain: NO! Oh, God. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

(The car went into the lake as there was a short silence, then Pesto picked the rock up and smashed the back window.)

Brain: Why did you do that?!

Pesto: You said smash a window. Look, there ya go!

Brain: NO! No, no, no! (Brain went into the lake and tried to get his car out and shortly gives up, looking at Pinky, Squit, Pesto and Wakko furiously) You assholes. You total pair of fuckin' scumbags!

Pesto: Relax, B. We'll just wait 'til morning and rescue it when the tide's out.

Brain: It's just a fucking lake, Pesto, the tide isn't going out! (He emotionally tears up) I've wasted my whole 14 years hanging around with you fuckin' morons! I wish I'd never met y'all at all! I can't wait to move to Swansea! I fuckin' hate you, fuck you! FUCK YOU!

Squit: Come on, Brain, come outta the water and dry off, you could get sick, I'm sure we'll think of something.

Brain: You never think of anything. You've just got an accent that makes us think you're clever, but you're not, are ya?! You're just as much of a fuckin' idiot as these three!

Squit: (he frowns) Wow, harsh.

Brain: You scumbags, you total, total scumbags! (he continues to get the car out) Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! (he gives up trying to get the car out)

Wakko: Do you want a lager, B?

Brain: Yes, please.

(Brain got out of the lake as they all go back to the camping area.)

Pinky: (he took Brain's keys out of his back pocket) Oh, shit! I did have the keys.

Squit: Uhhh...yeah. Probably wouldn't mention it. Like ever!

Pinky: Y'right! As a matter of fact! (he throws the car keys into the lake and leaves)

(Squit N/R: So, Brain's shitty yellow Fiat was gone forever.)

The Final Part: A Disgustingly Happy Ending

(But look on the bright side, at least Pinky did beat me at Monopoly now despite I've lost $1,500. But the last thing I wanted to have is Pesto burning my $10,000 suitcase for fire.)

(Squit and Brain watching Squit's suitcase being burnt down.)

Squit: Hey. Which do you think burns better, B, my suitcase or my dignity? Heh, heh, heh, heh. (sighs all sadly)

Brain: Yeah, ha-ha. Nice try, but this is now officially the worst night I've ever had. Let's just go home.

Wakko: How?

Squit: Call your dad, B. If you think about it, it's sort of his fault we're here anyways.

Brain: Ha, sorry, no chance. He's gonna go ballistic about picking us up at 2 in the morning. What about your lil' bro, Pinky?

Pinky: Nah. He's out with my dad, private poker tournament in Las Vegas with Danny Dyer and the Krays.

Squit: Wait. Aren't the Krays dead?

Pinky: No! That's just a cover story cos they done a bunk from prison. They're holed up in one of me dad's warehouses.

Brain: Of course.

(short silence)

Pinky: Shall we swap phones again to cheer us all up.

Squit: Sure, why not.

(They all swap their phones back to their previous precision)

Pinky: (reads text) Oh, Brain, you got a message for your insurance company, they said, "We're sorry about the car. One of our retarded staff sended you the wrong car. Just burn it, dump it, kill it with fire. We're sorry for the delay for the last 2 years. Your old one will be back in 2 days." Hmph, looks like you're not in trouble at all, Brain.

Brain: (confused but relieved) Huh, that was anticlimactic. Plus, I knew they tried to rip me off anyways.

Squit: (reads text) Oh. Looks like your dad and your brother are taking a break from that made-up poker tournament, Pinky. Your dad's just texted you back.

Pinky: Oh, shit. What did he say?

Squit: "You're sick, son. Your ma was right about sending you to that shrink."

Pinky: (looks nervous) What's he on about, that fuckin' asshole? Talkin' jack-shit as usual.

Wakko: (checks phone) You got a text, too, Pesto. It's from your babe. Maybe you should read it. (gives phone back to Pesto)

Pesto: Oh, thank you, God. Thank you.

Pinky: She said yes to the marriage proposal?

Pesto: Even better. It says, "You dopey prick. Not pregnant. Tested positive for" What's that say, Squit?

Squit: (read carefully) "Chlamydia."

Pesto: Nice! (short silence) Dafuq's chlamydia?

Squit: Well, how shall I put this, Pesto? You no longer have a child on the way but you do have an STD.

Pesto: (celebrates) I got an STD! Yes, an STD! Whoo!

Pinky: (continues to reads texts) Oh. It's from Billie and your dad. It says… (Brain snatches his phone back from Pinky) Douche!

(Brain reads the text from Billie and his dad, then suddenly smiles.)

Pinky: (curiously) Well?

Squit: Shall we go to bed? It is getting late.

Wakko: Yep, good idea.

(They all went in the tent.)

Pinky: Well...what did it say?

(Squit N/R: Brain was never this cagey. When it came to Billie or his dad, he normally wore his heart on his sleeve and his boner in his pants. Maybe he had other things on his mind.)

(Brain looks at the light in the tent while he was lying down.)

Brain: (slightly annoyed) So we had a light this whole time?

Pinky: Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot about that one. Sorry, man.

Brain: So, my car went into the lake for no reason?

Pesto: I'm upset too, B. I got my first hand job in that car. Who's gonna wanna gimme a hand job when I'm a dad?

Pinky: You're not gonna be a dad, remember, Pesto?

Pesto: (pondered) Oh, yeah!

Pinky: Whatever. Look, even if we did get it out, I doubt it would work anyway. I think the engine's flooded.

Brain: Is that supposed to be funny, Pinky?

Pinky: Did I say it was funny tho?

Brain: (pondered) Good point. I also felt happy I'm not going to Swansea next week. My grandpa cancelled the trip because he was broke.

(They all laugh.)

(Squit and Wakko came into the tent looking disgusted.)

Brain: How was the trench?

Squit: (looking disgusted) Wakko and I had to wipe our asses with leaves.

Brain: (disgusted) Jesus.

Squit: And I think there were some ants in there, so I now literally have ants in my pants. And soil, and some earwigs.

Wakko: I never wanna do that again.

Pesto: Hey. Do you remember that first time we slept in a tent in my back garden and Pinky pissed himself? (laughs)

Brain: Yeah, we had to come in the house at about midnight because Pinky got scared. (laughs)

Pinky: Yeah, I was scared that Pesto's dad was about to come out and rape us!

Pesto: (furious and disgusted) Just...go fuck yourself.

Squit: And on that familiar note, it's good night. (lies down in his sleeping bag) Sorry about your car, B.

Brain: Doesn't matter. It was a piece-of-shit car, anyway. Thanks for the send-off. For the last 2 years, I always knew they were trying to scam me in the first pla... (holds his nose) Jesus, that stinks, Pesto, was that a fart?

Pesto: Nah, Wakko and I burped. It ain't great, though.

Wakko: Yeah, I think it's them sausages.

Brain: Whatever. Good night.

Pinky: Well, I'll get the fuckin' light, then, shall I? (turns off the light) Night, mah boys.

(long silence)

Wakko: B, I was wondering, when you die?

Brain: Yeah?

Wakko: What do you want us to do with Squit? Like, look after him and stuff?

Squit: I'm not a stray cat, Wak.

Pinky: Yeah, but you do shit in a hole in the ground tho. (laughs)

Squit: (sarcastically) Gee, thanks.

Wakko: I just worry about you, that's all.

Squit: I think I'll be fine. Good night. (lies back down) Thanks, though, Wak.

(Wakko suddenly vomits on Squit)

Squit: (furious/disgusted) UGH! FUCKIN' HELL, IT'S IN MY HAIR!

Wakko: (feeling dizzy) I think it's the sausages.

Pinky: (panics and turns the light back on) Fuck dat! I've gotta get out. I've gotta get out!

Brain: (disgusted) Oh, God, the smell. It always makes me puke.

Squit: Please don't puke in here.

Brain: Oh no. (vomits)

Squit: (disgusted/annoyed) Oh, you have.

Wakko: I don't feel well. (vomits again)

(Brain pukes again)

Pesto: Help me! (vomits so much)

Pinky: Oh, shit, the smell. Oh, God, doublepuke!

Squit: JUST GET THE FUCKIN' TENT OPEN, PINKY!

Pinky: (tries to find the zip) I can't find the zip! I can't find the zip! Oh no! (vomits on the tent zip)

(Squit looks at his mini-blade as he knew what he had to do.)

Squit: (angrily) Great!

(Squit rips the tent with the mini-blade and got out, so did Pinky, Brain, Pesto and Wakko. They started walking away together abandoning a damaged tent, a burnt suitcase and Brain's shitty car in the forest)

Squit: (reads text) Oh, my mom's texted me back.

Brain: Is she up for some back door action?

Squit: Nope, it said, "I love you too but I think you're on weed. No offence."

Pinky: If she's up for it, Pesto should get to do her, cos it was his text that got her kinky.

Pesto: True.

Squit: Obviously she's not up for it.

Brain: How do you know?

Wakko: Does it say that pacifically?

Squit: Specifically.

Pesto: Are you sayin' she only likes it in her axe wound? Ha.

Squit: Seriously guys, c'mon, we've got a long walk ahead of us, I'm covered in puke, can we just drop the "yo mama" jokes?

Pinky: I'd like to drop yo mama's jokes. Get it?

(They all laugh while they were walking away from the forest.)

Squit: Okay, that's brilliant, I give ya that! Heh, heh!

(short silence)

Pinky: (putting on his fake Cockney accent) So what are we doing now, Brain?

Brain: The same thing we DON'T do every night, Pinky! Try and call my dad 'coz we're fuckin' lost! (laughs)

Pinky: Yep. Good idea.

Squit: Yep.

Pesto: Yep.

Wakko: Yep.

Brain: (relieved) When I get home, my dad's gonna kick...my...ass!

THE END!

This is the 4th fanfiction episode of The Outsiders. Thx. Hope you liked it.

#animaniacs #theoutsiders #goodfeathers

0 notes

wherethewindtakesher · 5 years ago

Note

actually all qs cuz I wanna get to know u :) boink!

OF COURSE BOINK ANON!

I will be excluding the ones Ive done (:

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Wine glasses/water bottles c:

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Bubblegum! im not really a big fan of cotton candy tbh.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? for some reason, soda from plastic cups hit different 😞

7. earbuds or headphones? headphones in the winter, earbuds in the summer.

9. favorite smell in the summer? the smell of my oncoming de- the smell of flowers blooming.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? it depends, some mornings I skip breakfast all together, others i’ll have a light snack, or I just have some cereal or make an egg.

12. name of your favorite playlist? ‘Recently added’

13. lanyard or key ring? landyard so I can find my keys easily. I still lose it tho-

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? spicy or sour candies are dope a f.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? The first book I read that I actually enjoyed was twilight.

16. most comfortable position to sit in? with my legs w I d e open because I cant sit properly.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? my tan/floral converses.

18. ideal weather? cloudy, cold, and raining 😌.

19. sleeping position? on my stomach, leg raised to my abdomen while the other is in the open air, and hands underneath my pillow. the BEST.

21. obsession from childhood? picking my scabs-

22. role model? my mom and sisters.

24. favorite crystal? garnet. It’s also my birthstone! I have it as a gem for my class ring.

25. first song you remember hearing? “bidi bidi mom mom” by selena quintanilla.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? if it’s not scorching hot, go on walks.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? snuggle up in a blanket and watch movies.

28. five songs to describe you? ‘humble’ kendrick lamar, ‘cry baby’ melanie martinez, ‘stupid’ ashnikko, ‘paparazzi’ lady gaga, ‘or nah’ ty dollar $ign.

29. best way to bond with you? send me M E M E S-

30. places that you find sacred? my bed.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? ripped jeans, boots, a crop top, and a jacket.

33. most used phrase in your phone? fuck.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? that empire carpet wash commercial.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? DAT BOI.

37. suitcase or duffel bag? duffel bag.

38. lemonade or tea? how about both of them combined 😉.

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? I hate pie 🙊

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? someone brought a gun and it fell out of their backpack during 2nd period.

41. last person you texted? @caws5749

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? pants pockets. BUT THE DEEP ONES NOT THOSE SMALL FUCKING ONES.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? hoodies or a bomber jacket.

44. favorite scent for soap? Lavender.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? superhero!

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? naked-

47. favorite type of cheese? queso fresco.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? mango.

49. what saying or quote do you live by? “im a bad bitch you cant kill me”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? anytime my friends and I joke around.

51. current stresses? school, personal issues, and my NEW JOB THATS RIGHT YALL YO GIRL EMPLOYED.

52. favorite font? calibri.

53. what is the current state of your hands? kinda rough but smooth.

54. what did you learn from your first job? that people fucking suck.

55. favorite fairy tale? little red riding hood.

56. favorite tradition? eating tamales during christmas time.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? that im not perfect, my flaws are just as beautiful as my perfections, and that im just ug-

58. four talents you’re proud of having? im not talented aT ALL. uh...

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? ‘let’s fuck ‘em up’

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? sasuke from naruto or mey-rin from kuroshitsuji.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? “see you in a minute”

62. seven characters you relate to? natasha, cristina yang, dexter, ford, thor, scott lang, and tony.

63. five songs that would play in your club? ‘bodak yellow’, ‘man of the year’, ‘rockstar’, ‘bickenhead’, ‘slumber party’.

64. favorite website from your childhood? I forgot the name but it was that educational site with the orange robot and human.

65. any permanent scars? my entire body is riddled in scars no joke.

66. favorite flower(s)? hibiscus and roses.

67. good luck charms? my dog’s name tag.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? onions-

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? that cracking your joints won't give you arthritis.

70. left or right handed? im mixed handed but I do the majority of stuff with my right.

71. least favorite pattern? plaid.

72. worst subject? MATH FJSKSJKFSJS I HATE IT.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? have yall tried chocolate milk with chicken nuggets-

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? 8-9 because I tend to fight back and not admit there is something wrong going on 😬.

75. when did you lose your first tooth? 2nd grade I believe.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? for some reason my love of tater tots has come back.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? uh cacti?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? coffee from a gas station cus im not trying to die-

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? oh man, I look like shit in both of them. School id.

80. earth tones or jewel tones? earth tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? ive never seen either 😔.

82. pc or console? i’ve own consoles for most of my life.

83. writing or drawing? writing. I cant draw very well.

84. podcasts or talk radio? podcasts! I listen to ‘last podcast on the left’.

84. barbie or polly pocket? barbies! did anyone make their barbies have sex or was it just me-?

85. fairy tales or mythology? mythology. yall don't know this but I have fallen into the greek mythology rabbit hole-

86. cookies or cupcakes? I fuck heavy with cupcakes TILL THIS DAY.

87. your greatest fear? to see those I love die.

88. your greatest wish? to be happy.

89. who would you put before everyone else? myself.

90. luckiest mistake? guessing on a question and getting it right 😎.

91. boxes or bags? i’ll go with boxes. it makes everything easier to stack and organize.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? fairy lights are so pretty.

93. nicknames? clown by @caws5749, bottom by @domromanoff, and variations of my real name.

94. favorite season? fall/winter TIMEEEEE.

95. favorite app on your phone? mario kart. if anyone wants to be friends give me your friend code-

96. desktop background? it’s black with a colorful smoke cloud exploding.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? mine and my oldest sister’s because she has had that same number since I was in the WOMB.

98. favorite historical era? I would say the WWII era since ive studied more about it than any other era.

UPDATE; this would've been done last night but my screen decided to just crash and not save anything I had done and my girl sent my ass to bed so I couldn't finish it but here ya go boink!

3 notes · View notes

turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Text

Back Home

this is bad. its also like midnight. why do i write late at night, it just makes it bad. it be like that. this is also really fluffy tho so yay dad ralbert is back

ship: ralbert

warnings: vomit mention

editing: nuh uh

“Papaaaaaaaa!” Race braced himself for impact as his son, Andrew, barreled into him, knocking him backwards into his husband, Albert.

“Lovely to see where your loyalties lie,” Albert smirked, steadying Race before lugging their shared suitcase in behind him. Andrew giggled loudly, detaching himself from Race and moving to latch onto Albert instead. They had gone for the week on a short trip to Washington DC to teach a few masterclasses at the National Theatre. Spot, their best friend and godfather to their kids, had offered to watch Andrew and Emelia while Race and Albert were gone. Although, as Race looked around his apartment, there was no sign of Spot, or his daughter for that matter. He frowned, concern bubbling in his stomach, but his son’s excited voice brought him back to the present.

“Missed you guys!” Andrew exclaimed, making grabby hands at Albert, who hoisted the five year old onto his hip.

“We missed you too, champ,” Albert grinned, smacking an exaggerated kiss to Andrew’s cheek, “Did you have a good time with Uncle Spottie?”

“Yeah!” Andrew said, squirming to get out of Albert’s hold and reaching his hands out to Race instead.

Race seamlessly took Andrew away from Albert, shifting him onto his hip instead, “I’m glad you had fun, dude,” he said, finally walking to the couch to set down his carry-on bag, “Where are Uncle Spottie and Emelia, though?”

“Me and Em’s room,” Andrew said, matter-of-factly, “Em isn’t feeling good.”

Albert frowned from where he was unzipping their suitcases to put their jackets away, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Andrew nodded seriously, “She was puking all day!”

Race and Albert exchanged concerned glances behind their son’s back, “Alright, bud,” Race said, putting Andrew down, “Why don’t you go with Daddy to get washed up and I’ll go check on your sister, alright?”

Andrew nodded and hurried off in the direction of the bathroom.

“You good with that?” Race asked Albert, who was already grabbing a fresh towel from the hallway closet.

Albert made waved a dismissive hand, “I got him, go make sure our daughter isn’t dying.”

Race furrowed his eyebrows, “That was dark.”

Albert shrugged and hurried off to wrangle his son before he flooded the bathroom. Race kicked off his shoes and headed in the direction of his children’s bedroom. As he got closer, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of retching coming from the other side of the door. He knocked lightly before entering.

“Hey,” he greeted softly. Spot was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on Emelia’s back. His daughter looked incredibly weak and was leaned over the side of the mattress, vomiting violently into a trashcan.

Spot looked up when he entered and offered Race a tired smile, “Heya, Racer, how was DC?”

“It was pretty good,” Race said, “Only lost Al once on a segway tour,”

Spot scoffed, “Wouldn’t expect anything less from that idiot.”

“He was easy enough to find,” Race said before diverting his attention to his sick daughter, “What’s wrong, bug?” he asked, kneeling in front of Emelia and pushing a few strands of sweaty hair away from her forehead.

“Don’ feel good,” She managed, gagging again and pitching forward towards the trash can. Race looked up at Spot, who was frowning at Emelia sympathetically.

“Poor thing’s been throwing up since 10:00 this morning,” Spot said, “Tried to call you and Al, but I couldn’t reach you.”

“Has she just been throwing up, or..”

Spot nodded, “Yeah, mostly. Complained about being achey, too. I’ve been taking her temperature throughout the day, but it’s been normal.” Race relaxed a bit, “Okay, good. Thanks, Spottie.”

“You gonna take her to a doctor?” “I’ll probably make an appointment tomorrow sometime.”

Spot hummed approvingly, right as Andrew, followed by a rather flustered looking Albert, busted through the door, wearing his duck wrap around towel. Albert’s shirt was soaked and Andrew still had shampoo in his hair. Race and Spot cast questioning glances to Albert, who simply shrugged.

“One second, we were shampooing, the next he was running,” Albert said, wringing out his shirt onto the carpet.

“Stop that,” Race scolded. Albert held his hands up in mock surrender.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Race questioned Andrew gently, who looked slightly overwhelmed by the cluster of people in the room.

“I didn’t want Uncle Spottie to leave without saying goodbye,” He said, lower lip starting to tremble.

“Hey, whoa,” Spot said, finally moving from his spot on the bed to squat in front of his godson, “I wasn’t gonna go nowhere without saying goodbye, champ, but why don’t we finish getting you washed up first?”

Andrew nodded, then turned to look up at his fathers with pleading eyes, “Can Uncle Spottie finish helping me?”

Albert and Race raised their eyebrows, amused, “I don’t see why not,” Race said, “We’d better be careful, Al. Spot might just steal our children away from us.”

Spot picked Andrew up, skillfully avoiding his soapy hair, “I might just,” he said as he left for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“How’s she doing?” Albert asked, his question punctuated by another retch from Emelia. He winced, “Not so good I take it?”

“Yeah, we should take her in tomorrow,” Race said, perching himself next to Emelia on the bed, “No fever, though.”

“That’s good,” Albert said, sitting in a straddle on the floor beside the trash can. He reached up to rub Emelia’s shoulder, “Hey, sweet pea.”

“Hey, Daddy,” Emelia said, shakily.

“Did you have a good week?” Emelia nodded and Albert smiled, “I missed you and Andrew.”

“Missed you, too,” Emelia said, yawning.

“Getting tired?” Race asked. Emelia nodded, eyelids drooping, “Alright, pea, let’s getcha changed outta these sweaty clothes, then you can sleep.”

“Uncle Spottie still here?” Emelia asked, sleepily, as Race helped her into a new nightgown that Albert had gotten from her drawer.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure he peeps in to say goodbye, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me or Daddy to stay with you while you fall asleep?” Race asked, tucking her back into bed.

“Daddy,” Emelia said, reaching out for Albert, who took Race’s place on the bed.

“Alright, princess,” Race said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead, “I love you, goodnight.”

“Love you, too,” Emelia curled into Albert’s side, “Can you read me a book?”

“Sure, love,” Albert said, petting a hand through her hair, “What book?”

“Jack and Annie!”

“Alrighty, did Uncle Spottie start a new one with you?”

“Yeah, the one with the leprechaun,” Emelia said. Albert nodded and turned to ask Race to pass him the book, only to find that his husband was already holding out Magic Tree House, Leprechaun in Late Winter, for him.

“Thanks, babe,” He smiled, taking the book and tilting his head back slightly for a kiss.

Race bent down and pecked him on the lips, “Yep. I’ma go check on Spot and Andrew.”

“Sounds good,” Albert said, opening the book and beginning to read out loud. Race took the trash can Emelia had been using and left the room. Spot and Andrew were sat at the kitchen counter, playing with Andrew’s Hot Wheels. It looked like Spot had successfully gotten Andrew ready for bed, because he was no longer soapy and was sporting his favorite Star Wars pajamas.

“Papa, come play!” He declared, crashing his car into Spot’s, who let out a noise of fake offence.

“That is no way to treat Mr. Speedsy,” Spot said, hugging the black car he was holding to his chest.

Andrew shrieked with laughter and Race smiled at the scene in front of him, “I think playtime is over,” he said, crossing over to the other two, “Uncle Spottie has to get home and you, Mr. Hot Wheels, need to get to bed.”

“Five more minutes?” Andrew pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

“Nope, it’s time to call it a night,” Race said, firmly, “C’mon, bud.” He plucked his son out of the kitchen chair and used one hand to put the Hot Wheels back in their box.

Spot followed them to the kid’s bedroom, stopping in the doorway and watching as Race tucked Andrew in, “Bye Andrew, bye Em,” he called quietly.

“Bye, Uncle Spottie,” Both children said in unison.

Race crossed to the doorway and pulled him into a brief hug, “Thank you so much for watching them this week, man. Seriously.”

“Yeah, we appreciate it so much,” Albert said, also standing to hug Spot, “Lunch tomorrow? Our treat?”

“Sure,” Spot smiled, “And it’s no problem. It’s always a pleasure to watch the munchkins. Take care you two and I hope Emelia feels better.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, thanks again,” Race said, clapping him on the back.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Spottie.”

They watched as Spot let himself out of the apartment, then turned back to their kids.

“You go get ready for bed,” Albert said, “I’ll finish up with them.”

Race sighed gratefully, the exhaustion from the week finally hitting him, “Thanks.”

“I’ll be in soon,” Race shot him a thumbs up and left to change into his pajamas, opting to shower in the morning.

Twenty minutes later, as promised, a tired looking Albert climbed into bed next to Race, who bookmarked his book and wrapped his arms around his husband.

“They out?” He asked into Albert’s hair.

“Like lights. I got Emelia a fresh trash can, too.”

“Awesome,” They lapsed into silence, breathing in each other’s presence blissfully.

“I love this, you know,” Albert said after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“This,” Albert gestured vaguely, “All this domestic shit. I love it.”

Race smiled, warmth spreading through his chest, “Yeah,” he murmured, “I love it, too.”

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @labert-dasilver

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

#newsies fic #newsies #spot conlon #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #chaotic boys #chaotic dads

68 notes · View notes

tumblunni · 6 years ago

Text

More daily acconplishment diaryness!

Finished unpacking and sorted my clothes into clean and need of washing. Dug out the old webcams i was too scared to use for years and maybe i will try em once i set up the computer again?

Cleaned all the mold out of the refridgerator even though it was GROSS AND SCARY. Woo!

Also finished about 1/3rd of washing every dish i own, which is good cos they were stacked so high i couldnt even see the sink before! I actually found a bunch of dishes i'd lost while i was cleaning up before i left last month. SO MANY FALLEN SPOONS! But i didnt have time to wash any of them so i'm sure they're glad to finally be disinfected and ready to use again. Some had gone rusty or broken and had to be thrown out tho.

Made a big A3 calendar for the next 3 months so i can try and be more structured in my life. Maybe it will work? I dunno about any sort of weekly schedule yet, gonna wait until i get more clarification on what days classes are available at the library and when i'm gonna be seeing support worker richard again and Mystery New Support Worker Who Is Replacing The Hospital Basically. Like they said i can indeed have the support without the mega supervised shared housing thing, so i'm gonna be meeting a new group of mental health recovery specialist tutors who can visit me at my own home instead of me going to the hospital full time. I'm actually kinda glad of all the horrifying lack of privacy in the hospital in one way, like i've always been terrified to invite people inside my house because of the same reasons. But now in the aftermath of EVEN MORE people up in my personal space and EVEN LESS privacy and AN EVER REVOLVING LINE OF STRANGERS who DO MEDICAL TESTS ON MY PEE, it seems a little less scary to just let the same support worker sit on my sofa every month. Im still flying on the fear of all that stuff and this seems positively pleasant in comparison! And i'm sure that feeling will wear off as i become less jittery again, but by then i'll have had some practise talking to this new support worker on my sofa and hopefully i'll be less scared in general.

Oh! And i did decide one thing about a weekly schedule! I have to go out to town at least once every weekend. Or somewhere else fun on the bus. Now im not scared of regular buses i need to train myself to be less scared of the big long one in this neighbourhood. And getting to go out and experience ACTUAL SHOPS and COOL THINGS has cheered me up so much, i cant lose that just because the bus is longer now! The first planned outing is to go to town either on my birthday or the day after, cos i get my disability benefit on my birthday and i can afford to go do some mildly small fun stuff. Shame i spent all my savings and monthly bonus on preparing for stupid hospital, like man i must have wasted 500 quid on all that? The laptop and the new suitcase and new clothes and stocking up on toiletries and soooo much preparing aaa. I still dont know whether to be mad at myself for "only" lasting three weeks or proud of myself for enduring the worst three weeks ive had since i lived in a homeless shelter. Well i got free food at the hospital so it was better in that sense, but it was somehow even more invasive and nervewracking than the homeless shelter! I'd honestly prefer the days of nothing but bread and butter. And hell we had internet there and i was allowed to bring my tv even tho it was a huuuuuuge crt thing bigger than my entire body. I still have it even tho its outdated and broken cos i simply cannot carry it back down the stairs XD

ANYWAY that has been the random progress of today! Next order of business is that tomorrow i go return all the library books from the other library, and just continue going out for walks more often even if im broke and have nothing much to do. Well at least the library has a gym in pokemon go! Also hopefully the internet repair guy will call back tomorrow. And then on friday is the B day and the having money again, so lol anyone have any suggestions on what i should do to celebrate? I dont even really know what people DO when they go out for walks, aside from.. Walk. Like whats an activity i could even do on my own, aside from cinema? And i dont think theyre still showing the incredibles 2 so there might not be anything else good to see. Sigh! And then all i've got to watch out for is the Integrated Autism Service meeting on october 17th which i know NOTHING about not even where it is or what time. Hopefully i can get more details now im back home and able to meet up with dj richard the funky support worker again. Also on november 5th i have to remember to go get my eye test. I hope maybe i can get a new colour of frames this time! And then i dunno sometime nebulous in between all that i'm gonna get a phone call from the hospital guys again to settle the last of the paperwork and introduce me to the new hospital classes support person worker mystery thingieness. Which is a little anxious, so i kinda hope it happens sooner rather than later so i can continue riding the wave of relief from being home and accomplish loads of scary things before it wears off.

...man that wave is kinda annoying tho cos now i cant sleep! Im so hyped up!!i already did so many accomplishments today and they just make me hyped up to do more!!! THE LONGEST GREATEST TUESDAY OF THE YEAR

#i conpletely forgot what tag i just said i was gonna use for my diary stuff #whups

9 notes · View notes

the-mf-bread-babies · 4 years ago

Text

loneliness </\///\|/3

a fic by rocco wulfram north, m.d.

(found that name on hardcore baby names)

–chmapter jop–

before the tríp

It was a normal day for the Skullsmashers: go to somewhere, kill people, be gay, sleep, get brunch. Right now was the first part of their daily routine, and they were getting ready for it.

“holy fuck nova could you hurry the shit up i have to brush my fucking teeth you bitch” Ace hissed, knocking repeatedly on the bathroom door. “Fuck You. I'm Going To Go To Hell Itself” Nova gargled back, mouth full of mouthwash. More banging was heard; the door had seen better days.

Several feet away was Jake, all dressed up and ready to go, waiting for the others to get ready. He sat on the couch gayly in the living room down the hall, scrolling through Apocalypse Twitter. ‘every day i throw down an unpeeled boiled egg from the rooftop to simulate fear and unreadiness’ he read, a tweet from Orc's account. What the fuck. Classic Orc.

“ah fuck !! am i late !!” Jake turned around to see Damon panicking and counting the daggers in his pockets. “no no not at all. i just get ready really quickly to throw everyone into a state of disarray” Jake replied in an honest, monotone voice. “come sit down”

Damon sat down nervously next to his captain, knowing he'll ask him for Bambi on the PS2 now. “look. look at them those dumbshits” Jake uttered, pointing to Ace and Nova arguing. “those little bastards are completely unaware that ive put a fake cockroach puppet in the mirror. watch now” he added, pulling out a cheap remote control and pressing a button.

*sound of glass breaking* Jake sighed. “okay maybe that wasn't really the best idea” Nova screamed, running out of the bathroom and confusing Ace. “Fucking Roach!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she yelled, already too far away from them to be heard clearly. “huh. well okay then!” Ace grinned, going into the bathroom.

“i'll guard. you do your thing okay? :-)” Damon said to Jake, smiling mischievously. Jake's heart skipped a beat as he was suddenly flustered by the killer's action. «oh god, shit's just gonna get more complicated from here» he thought, staring into nothingness.

Damon braced himself against the bathroom door, eager to hear Ace's chaotic screaming. “ready ??” Damon asked, sending Jake back to the real world. “hhuh??????? oh yea right” he mumbled before beginning to control the cockroach with the remote. “this shit cost me like 200 bucks so it better be worth it”

HOLY MOTHER OF

F U C K

JAKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

WHAT THE S H IT DUDE

ace will remember this.

Jake cackled loudly, rolling on the floor and hitting the table with his fist. “LMAOOOOK FUCK YOUUU” he yelled, angering Ace even more. “I WILL GODDAMN SKIN UOUR FUCKIGN ISTINEDSTINES OLD MAN I SWEAR TKC FUCKF” they yelled back, pushing the door repeatedly. “IM GOIND TO FUCKIGN DIR HERE YOU BITCH”

“ah . ace ? could you move a little please ? i'm trying to get in ?” Damon said annoyingly kindly, making Ace jab a fake knife through the space between the door and the doorway. “THIS IS THE BEST FUCKIGN KNIFE I HAVE ON ME RIGT NOW BUT PLEADR JSUT FUCK O F F”

“hm ... i'll have to check in with the blacksmith today to know what this one's worth... possibly rusted here, though.... could also just be dirt tho.....” Damon mumbled, examining the knife. “FUCKING HEL P” Ace yelled in distress, his breath seeping through the door. “ace. brush your fucking teeth that's disgusting.”

“IM FUCKIF D TRYINF THERES JUST A FUCKGIFN ROSCH HEREERF” Ace explained fearfully, trying their best to get some pity from the other. “a what ?? don't think we have those here” “A FUCKIFN COKROSKC” “corrosion ???? how bad” “FUCK YOU A GODDMAND COKCROACH” “girls?? what?? are they milfs??” “HOW THEE DFUCKDB DID YEOU HEAR FTHAY WHATS DUCUNESKRHI”

Jake's hand slapped against Damon's shoulder as a way of saying thanks. “good work out there soldier. us skullsmashers really need someone like you damon” He said confidently, disguising his flirting as a compliment. “cool !! you too man !!” The shorter man replied, completely unaware of the flirting and continuing to yearn for the mutual love between him and Jake. fuckin idiots lmao

“alrighty fuckers, let's move!”

Rachel's voice sent Ace and Nova into a panic, making them scram to look for their weapons and equipment. “Got everything ya need? W'ain't makin' any stops; tryin'a save fuel.” Shaw asked, leaning against the wall at the entrance menacingly. “When the fuck did you even come here.” Dennis asked in surprise, carrying suitcases. “Hmph. Man never tells his secrets, young man.” She replied, tilting her cowboy hat. “What…”

Aaron was sitting peacefully in the trunk of a pickup truck they had, only to be met by a large backpack to the face. “ah!!!!!!!! very sorry!!!!!!! we'll be going in separate vehicles, and trunk space is very much needed!!!!!!!!” Whitney said, apologizing. “Ah. Well. O-okay then.” Aaron stuttered out, holding back tears from the painful impact the backpack had. Pretty sure he'll get a bruise from that.

Henderson and Rachel were waiting in the front seats of yet another pickup truck. To pass the time, they took very cringey pictures of each other pretending to be on Cowboy TikTok™. “Do one where you're pregnant with the truck's baby!” Henderson suggested, making Rachel flip the bird at her but begrudgingly agreeing with her stupid idea. “i literally would skin you alive.” She spat out, putting a pumpkin inside her shirt. “That's… literally so sexy, babe.” Henderson replied back, taking more pictures.

Meanwhile, Andre was busy explaining to Cyprus, who was in a small glass jar, that forcibly entering Damon's bloodstream and mutilating his entire body was not very nice, with Orc and Sarah judging. “YES BUT UNLIMITED POWER COULD BE RIGHT IN OUR HANDS ANDRE” “That'd very mean of you to do, and could actually probably kill you too in the process.” he explained to deaf ears. Well, technically no ears. Yet. “CYPRUS I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT YOU COULD LITERALLY DO THE SAME BUT LIKE IN AN ELEPHANTS BODY DUDE” Orc suggested, only to be ignored. “cmon cyprus just pleaaaaase dont kill ppl ok”

Jake looked outside, then back at Damon. “well guess its time to move!” “yea ... but at what cost.” Damon replied confusingly, making a sad face. “did you know today is…” he started, then regretted saying anything. “nvm…” He turned away from the punk, sniffling and walking to Dennis and Aaron.

“damon” “??” Jake asked quietly, craning his neck a little before making the decision to leave the new recruit alone. Instead, he joined Henderson and Rachel in their odd activities.

“hey guys. i fucking miss sans.” Damon confessed, taking a seat next to Dennis. “My nose is bleeding.” Aaron pointed out. “ok. today's sunday. and you Know what That Means… Meant,” The boy continued, facing the ground. “Kanye West he…” Dennis began (begun???? idk). “… liked.” Aaron continued, also affected emotionally by the departure of not only Sans, but Komaeda too.

Jake stared longingly at the family, wishing he was a part of it too. He truly felt Ariel Little Mermaid's desire to become human. Seven Vagánias… that was a risk he was willing to take for him. He would shave his eyebrows off for that man, and he just might do it right now.

“Jake? Don't do that. Please don't fucking do that.” Henderson suddenly interrupted, surprising Jake. “do what” Henderson squinted her eyes, giving Jake a suspicious look. “That's the face you make when you want to do silly things…” She pointed out.

“You had that when you almost electrocuted yourself at that stable, you had that when you threw the dart at Scoran, you had that when you glued Marcus and Reese–” “OKAY OKAY I GET IT IM A DUMMY SILLY LITTLE BITCH BOY OK”

Rachel put the pumpkin back on the ground and went to the two friends, curious to know what the quarrel was about. “what's poppin gayboy!” She loudly asked, slapping Jake's forearm strongly. “i am in peril and shaking and crying” “daddy issues” “yget?” He explained, gesturing towards the Russells.

“ah. please clarify what kind.” Rachel said, knowing Jake has a very questionable taste for fictional middle-aged men, such as Sigma Overwatch and the guy from the cowboy game. “the fuckin. family one rachel” “look at em just vibing and simply being gay”

Rachel and Henderson gave eachother a look that questioned whether Damon and Jake were going to be a thing or not, since Jake's technically still with Andre. “Considering the fact that they adopted Damon, they could probably also adopt you if you wanted to.” Henderson suggested, knowing Jake wouldn't like this and would stupidly unknowingly accidentally confess his love for Damon to them both right then and there.

“what?????” “ew no thatd be fuckin incest or some shit what the fuck” Jake said, being grossed out. “what would be the incestuous part, jacon. we did not say or hint at anything related to incest.” Rachel asked, making Jake's hair stand up in panic. “fuCKIN NOTHING DUH” “BUT LIKE YKNOW I GET CRUSHES REALLY EASILY YEA??????” Jake explained weirdly.

“So there's a new one right now, huh…” Henderson asked… feeling like she was in Ace Attorney. “no!!!! no wait” “well yea– no.. but i–” “fuck You but yes” Jake grumbled. “ah no, we won't tell, obviously. it was just getting way too obvious, so we just wanted to hear it from both sides.” “WH” Rachel said mysteriously, getting into the driver's seat of the pickup truck. “okay guys let's go!!” She yelled out, starting the engine. “THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??????” “BOTH SIDES???”

chapter dos

two four trucks

The journey to god knows fuckin where idk didn't plan i guess a fuckin cabin or smth idk was long and torturous, especially when Rachel said that cryptic-ass thing before going. What the fuck was that supposed to mean, bro.

sudden interlude for seating arrangements !!

truck 1: Henderson, rachel, whitney, CYPRUS

truck 2: jake, damon, marge, Andre, Aaron

truck 3: ace, Nova, Dennis

truck 4: sarah, ORC, Shaw, viper

truck two.

Jake awkwardly patted Marge's head in the backseat of the truck, avoiding eye contact with Damon and Andre. Of course he had to go on a three-day trip in the same car with his ex, his crush, AND his crush's father. God, he was pretty sure this was the lab rats' doing.

“cows.” Damon pointed outside, earning Andre's attention. “Holy– what are those?” He asked, taking his sunglasses off to admire the beautiful little cows. “Cows… we drink their milk and wear their skin as jackets…” Aaron explained, his eyes drifting from the road momentarily. “They can have best friends and stuff. Really nice guys. Also, they're expensive as hell.”

“Y–You do what. Their skin??” Andre asked, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “yeah and we rate them based on which layer it is. also, like their meat, expensive as hell. but still very cool.” Damon said, confusing Andre even more. “they also give us cheese and ice cream and whipped cream and stuff. underrated little babies. they deserve better.” “they also have nose rings which are punk as hell–”

“Wait, why the nose– cheese?! Cheese?! AND ice cream??!” Andre asked again, his mind attempting to comprehend the greatness that cows are. “Oh man, you are not ready to hear about pigs.” Aaron said jokingly. “What the fuck are pigs???” “Sausages, ham slices, bacon, lard, leather too, rotisserie–” “aaron please i'm gonna throw up.” “Oh, right. Sorry,”

Jake sat quietly in his seat, just now realising how much of his world Andre's missing. Sure, his world was much cooler, but do they have sheep? Palm trees? Penguins? Thought not, bitch. “andre do you know what a kangaroo is” He asked, breaking his silence like that one YouTuber.

“A what?” “kangaroo. some of them are buff as shit and they move by hopping. they cant hop backwards and they also keep their babies in little pouches attached to them and their bones and guts are exposed on the inside of said pouch. baby kangaroos are about the size of a jellybean, and the adults can box you”

“They what” “yea they're weird as fuck.” “its from australia so” “That sounds fake.” “oh man. wombats bro. quokkas. fuckin drop bears and flying foxes. PLATYPUSES!!!” “wombats poop in cubes and quokkas are always smiling” “Koala bears hold onto tree branches and eat their mom's shit, which is the leaves of said tree branches.” “Please stop what the fuck” “ohoho fucking GEESE” “GET IM JAKE MY NEIGHBOR HAD FUCKIN THREE OF THOSE BITCHES”

truck three.

The three sat silently, with the exception of Dennis, who was swearing at random times. “You call that a fuckin’ turn, old man?! HUH?!!” Ace's shoulders jumped, the sudden exclamations preventing them from sleeping through the trip. “This Is Probably The Last Time We'll See Each Other Alive.” Nova stated calmly. “i slept for like two minutes last night… didn't even get to wear conditioner today. unrelated but just sharing my struggles with you.” Ace said, shifting into a more comfortable sleeping position.

Dennis overheard the two talking, and opted to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, before stumbling across a strange sight. “FROG!!!” he yelled, waking up the duo. “he said fuck! he said the f” Ace yelled out while rubbing their eyes. “Are We Aliven't” Nova asked, stretching. “Sadly, no, but the good news is, I found a frog!” Dennis excitedly said, opening the car door.

“WHAT” “THAT SHITS GONNA POISON US WHAT THE FUCK” Nova yelled out, unfortunately not loud enough for Dennis to hear it. The man kept walking towards the creature that was technically an alien to them, and picked it up with watery hands. “DENNIS YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL US ALL!!!!!!! DENNIS!!!!!!”

“So, you kids know how to handle a frog?” Dennis asked in a wholesome tone, alerting the two even more. “KILL IT KILL IT FUCKING KILL IT” “Oh, are you guys allergic to this little guy? Sorry, I'll put it in the dashboard instead.” “GET ITBOUT WHAT THE FUCK DENNID JESUS” “… Huh?” “POSIOJ DART FOGR” Nova shouted, hiding behind the passenger seat and being pushed by Ace, who was also going to hide there. “BITCH”

Dennis and the frog stared at them in confusion, hearing their horrified screams. “This is… a wood frog… not a poison dart… that one would probably die in this climate…” he explained plainly, his hands gently cupping the newfound friend. “oh. ok” Ace muttered quietly, while Nova maintained an awkward silence. “You can… pat them very softly if you want.” Dennis suggested. “Or spray the shit outta them. That could work too.”

Nova nervously held out her hand to pat the frog, then smiled in succeeding to do so. “Death Quivers Before Me” She said, proceeding to pat it even more. “can i do the spray thing.” Ace asked, their voice quiet as a whisper. “Yeah, sure. Go right ahead.”

*the frog was going to die so technically they didnt like fuck up the ecosystem or smth. do not attempt this irl.

truck four.

“What jolly tunes d'ya have on this here truck. Fellas.” Shaw asked, observing the radio. “uh, really, i don't think it'll be necessary!!!!!” Viper nervously said, only to be ignored. “NONSENSE! ONE'S TASTE IN SHANTIES PROVES TO BE A WINDOW INTO THEIR LIVES.” Orc said wisely, patting them on the shoulder. “i guess that's good advice, but really–”

TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. MY MUSCLES. MY MUSCLES. INVOLUNTARILY FLEX.

“I SEE. A MATING SONG FOR YOUR SPECIES?” “my truck f### playlist,.,.,.” Viper tried to mute the speaker to no avail as most of the buttons on the control panel were very much broken. “I'm. Very sorry for this, pardner. But this doesn't sound so bad. I could put this in a jukebox…” Shaw consoled, only making them panic more. “im so f#ckig sorry” They said, before smashing the radio with a briefcase.

They all paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. “i have spotify…” Sarah croaked, holding up her phone. “they have lemon demon too, if you want…” She muttered, scrolling through the song choices. “does anyone want to listen to wet a–” “no.” “okay.”

The truck grew even quieter for a while, until Shaw gave a suggestion to pass the time. “Wanna play 20 questions?” “I'll start: how many folks have y'all killed?” Viper gave the assassin a horrified look, confusing her. “I think mine's around 150. No… 145…” She confessed, rubbing her chin. “Wait, or was it 160?”

“like six. do you like girls, and, follow up question, do you also coincidentally like short girls with long hair.” Sarah said without hesitation, stopping Orc from answering the first question. “Yes! I literally have a wife!” Shaw shouted happily, rolling up her sleeves to show Sarah her tattoos. “This one is her setting herself on fire and me getting inspired–” “ah, yes–” “That one was a total cover-up! Previously, it was the names of my exes, all thirteen of them, but now, it's my cat!”

After some time of receiving a bit too much RexShaw lore, Sarah finally got the answer she so desperately needed from Viper. This was the verdict that determines whether she could make a move or not. This answer could change– “i am gay and do not get attracted to women. thank you.” Ah. Back to more hunting. “I am a lesbian! High-five!” Shaw exclaimed.

And finally, the first truck.

truck one.

Loud country music blared in the truck as they drove by the snowy mountains of uhh. Winsnow. Like winter and snow. They had all chosen separate routes in order to cover more land and see if there were any new developments in the area.

“BRANDY!!! FETCH ANOTHER ROUNF!!!!!!” Rachel screeched as she drummed on the dashboard. “AND SHE FJSJS” Henderson kept driving, searching every inch of land for a rest stop to stretch her legs and also listen to something else.

“hendy.” Rachel said, getting her girlfriend's attention. “do you wanna buy that slime that cleans cars and stuff?” Henderson stared into the distance, pondering. “Hm. There's always the possibility of the slime disappearing under mysterious circumstances and turning up in the trash can the next day covered in saliva, so.” Whitney looked away, feeling attacked.

“yeah, that's a problem.” Rachel muttered, her hand instinctually moving to Henderson's. “Please don't crash the car.” She begged, looking sadly at her. “is there a domino's nearby. i heard they have that new peanut butter chocolate lava cake.” Rachel asked, cupping Henderson's face gently.

“Rachel. There's fucking mountains.” Henderson pointed out, gesturing towards their surroundings. “That shit will freeze.” Rachel put her head down in disappointment. “yeah. damn.” “MORE FLESH!!! MORE FLESH!!! MORE FUCKING FLESH!!!”

Oh yeah, Cyprus was here the whole time. “why does the metal say fuck?????” And Whitney too! “MIND YOUR OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS. FLESH NEEDED!” Cyprus yelled out, resembling a hungry toddler on a road trip.

“do you want like a burger or something......” Whitney asked, judging the spirit. “FLESH” “like are you more of a kfc or a mcdonalds guy” “NEED FLESH” She gave the couple a look, one that was kind of undecipherable due to her lack of normal face details like eyebrows, visible pupils, etc.

“So, three peanut butter lava cakes and one meat lover's… what else?” “ah!!!!!! no lava cake for me, i'm on a diet!!!!!! dirt and dirt only!!!!!!!!!!! also fish bones as a treat” Whitney corrected, her eyes searching for a nearby body of water. “Or, we could get Cyprus the fish meat, and Whitney the bones.” “sounds good to me!!!!!!!!” “FLESH”

…

“welcome to domino's! can i get your order?”

“three peanut butter lava cakes, please. that's all. thank you.” Rachel said, her seat switched with Henderson's, who was too nervous to order. “okay but they each take like three hours to make” “what.” “yea you can stop by like the grocery store up ahead” “fuck you for ordering this” “i–” “fuck off”

the grocewy stowe

The truck stopped by the front of the building, Rachel telling them to go in first while she searches for a good parking spot. Much to Henderson's disappointment.

“My lover…” Henderson said with fear in her voice. “it's okay… go along… i… i have to do this for you…” “for you all… i won't forget the good that you've done to me and everyone i've ever known…” “Rach, please don't go, I lo–” “you all are the kindest people… heaven may wait eagerly for you, but as for me, the ground trembles for its latest meal. fresh from the oven, i will enter the furnace…” “why the fuck would they cook you again” “because i'm TOAST!!” “haha”

“Kill Ronald Reagan while you're at it… I forgot which one he is but I'm pretty sure he's a total bitch…” “i will meet you doomguy” “heeeeeeeh” Rachel whined weakly as she slowly drove over to the spot she wanted.

MOTHERFUCKER.

A silver Honda Civic quickly made its way into there, angering the scientist. “not on my watch, fucker.” Rachel muttered, sliding the pickup truck across the road. She slammed her palm onto the car horn, which terrified even a murder of crows.

“huh wonder who that is” “hm anyway which fish do u like ???? :-)”

A woman who seemed to be in her late 40s exited the Honda Civic, throwing a rather large and flashy boa around her neck. “Jesús, ít's cold in hère,” The lady commented, putting on a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. “Márie, come along, ma cheghhy!” (i forgot how to spell it)

oh, son of a B I T C H .

it's the french lady who smells weird.

Of course, seeing your enemy in any circumstance that wasn't planned was clearly a little scary and will probably be your last day alive, but bumping into them at a Target was kinda… awkward.

Both the hazelnut and the dolphin were less armed and armoured than usual, and there weren't any bodyguards or security. Usually, if a top leader goes anywhere, the standard protocol was to do thirty separate background checks on the location and have it guarded up somewhere in the three months before their arrival.

So, obviously, someone in Top 50 driving around town in a decades-old car buying groceries isn't very safe, or probably even legal. Hell, she hasn't even seen them wear anything this ridiculous ever. Could this be a distraction? Or is it an opportunity?

Ah, wait, they're both wearing their stupid little marriage bracelets.

It's the middle of October.

This is their anniversary vacation.

Shit.

in the store

Henderson strolled through the aisles with Whitney at her side, hugging Cyprus's jar. She examined the cereal boxes to make sure they didn't contain any food colouring that could potentially kill her.

Whitney, on the other hand, zoomed over to the meat section, licking her lips at the sight of a raw cod. “cyprus…… do you feel that? the need to devour a being???? the uncontrollable desire for energy that it transcends all laws and regulations placed on mankind?????? the growing hunger for power, one that's so strong it controls your every need????

a natural, primal instinct to become such a brutal being that no one, not even you, recognise yourself anymore. you look at yourself in the mirror and you feel like you want to destroy that, to put yourself onto the pedestal you belong on, to wreak havoc on the cosmos of all beings, living and dead, real and mythical, walking and extinct.

you know that you're the only who understands this instinct, the only one who follows it to this distance. everyone else may underestimate you, but in the end, you'll rise above them all. man's natural instinct is to become the ruler of all.”

“What the fuck, Whitney. Anyway, I talked to the deli guy and he said he could pay you to eat up some scraps if you want. You down?” Henderson asked, her trolley already full of snacks. “yea fuck it man” Whitney replied, walking over to the ‘staff only’ door. “im hungy as fuck”

parking lot.

Despite the growing need to kill the woman, Rachel was managing to control herself. Even though this was the perfect opportunity to eliminate one of them, she knows she'll be replaced by someone much crueler. So for now, she'll just stick to watching this lady consider which can of tomato sauce is better than the other.

Rachel parked the truck near the entrance and the Honda Civic. She kept an eye on the couple as she quietly made her way inside through the back door.

“So thàt's when Í saìd, ‘that's not a cactùs, that's a lámp!” Karén playfully said, her hand entwined with her wife's. Rachel was unsure whether to stalk the two or join her friends in shopping.

WELL, FIND THAT OUT IN THE NEXT PART,

B I T C H !! !! !!

0 notes