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monalaniussboyfriend · 19 days ago

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i saw you're taking writing requests... tina headcannons. i love her so much and she makes me so sad ilh so so soooo much!! Me when tina rosenburg: ( ´,_ゝ`)

YES OF COURSE ANON AHH ;; tina has my heart 5ever <8

TINA HEADCANONS!! (pre and post WITNESS, general and romantic!) (NOT including the events of HELL.) ((JACK IS NON EXISTENT IN THESE HEADCANONS))

(These are for ALL Tina fans, love u guys <3)

WARNINGS; Death, childhood abandonment/trauma, suicide mentions, violence, general sadness/angst-ish, descriptions of what happened in WITNESS. (Some implied Tina x Mona...)

PRE-WITNESS ;; GENERAL

I see her as Mexican and white mixed...I'm not sure why

Her parents got a divorce when her and Flora were pretty young. (10yrs + 6yrs) refused to take responsibility or custody of the girls, completely fleeing the country.

Had a relatively normal childhood, besides her parents constantly arguing and having to protect Flora from their father before the divorce.

Post divorce her mother started blaming her for everything.

She always felt responsible for everyone around her because of the way she was raised, constantly worrying about everybody,

Neat-freak, she loves cleaning her room and organizing everything.

She has her own little system of where everything goes in her room and WILL slap your hands away if you try to touch anything without asking*

SHE LOVES REVIEWING AND CRITICIZING MOVIES!!!!

She's studying to become a doctor :) she loves taking care of people

Loves toned-down neutral pastels, her room is pastel pink with soft orange lamps :)

I can see her collecting posters, but not having a lot because she hates feeling crowded.

Very crafty, always making her friends little crafts to show her appreciation

Fear of abandonment because of her father, needs constant reassurance from her friends for that reason.

Has a little change jar that she uses to save for Flora's college fund. Flora doesn't know of this

Always hanging out with her sister, loves her more than anything and would do anything to keep her happy.

I can see her also collecting matching plushies between her and Flora, along with bracelets and necklaces.

Was never really close with her mom, she was treated terribly by her mother after the divorce.

She was an A+ student in her high school, constantly asking for extra credit, helping others with homework and even becoming a one-on-one tutor for some students :)

She doesn't wear makeup herself, but she always helps Flora with hers.

Her and Flora are polar opposites, but they love each other regardless :)

She refuses to travel far without her sister

PRE-WITNESS ;; ROMANTIC

SHE WILL MAKE YOU GIFTS...ALWAYS...NO MATTER THE OCCASION SHE WILL ALWAYS HAVE A HAND-MADE GIFT FOR YOU

WILL MAKE YOU REVIEW MOVIES WITH HER .... (it's her passion ok)

She's a "i love love" girl, she gets so giddy thinking about romance :)

Loves writing love letters for you, will 100% give you a notebook full of love letters for your anniversary

Always checking up on you and making sure you're okay, both mentally and physically.

She BEGS you to let you demonstrate her doctor studies on you, even if the medical tools freak you out.

*If she trusts you well enough she'll let you help her rearrange her room :)

Doesn't like PDA, but will 100% hold your hand in public. (She loves subtly showing you off to people because she loves you so so much)

Needs constant reassurance that you wont leave her (man ptsd is a BITCH too bad it only gets worse for this poor girl)

SHE LOVES SHOPPING (Especially if you're the type to spoil...but she'll always insist on paying you back)

She's the type of girl to bring you a whole garden if you mentioned you liked flowers ONCE

Has a plushie named after you 100%

Whenever you drop her off home after a long hang out, she'll immediately call you before bed and tell you how much fun she had.

Her mother rarely lets you over at the house, and will literally kill Tina if the urge to ask for a sleepover even crosses her mind.

If she notices a certain perfume/cologne/any scent you're wearing, she'll track it down and buy one for herself (She spritzes it on the plush named after you and sleeps while cuddling it)

GREAT COMMUNICATOR!!! Is very mature and will ALWAYS talk things out, she's very understanding.

Can and WILL tattoo your anniversary date on her wrist<3

She is definitely a date-to-marry girl, she loves the thought of being bonded with her lover forever.

If she sees or hears something that reminds her of you, she'll tell you right away with the biggest dorky smile on her face

Overall just a sweet person, girlfriend material

POST-WITNESS ;; GENERAL

Well obviously the events of WITNESS left her extremely traumatized.

She blames herself for everything that happened, always on about "Maybe if I didn't fall asleep."

She sometimes forgets she lost some of her body parts and just cries when she remembers. (Phantom senses suck ass)

Her mother finally started being nice to her! Only because she's scared of losing Tina though, she's also left very traumatized by Flora's death and it very much opened her eyes about how she treated Tina. (Tina doesn't care, she can't forgive her mother for making her feel guilty for EVERYTHING.)

She doesn't feel much anymore, she's completely blank faced most of the time if she isn't sobbing

Her mother takes care of her 24/7, including showering her and such. (Her mother is still sort of neglectful)

Sometimes she cries so much that her mom straight up leaves her home alone because she's tired of hearing Tina crying all night.

She had to use Flora's surprise college fund for her treatment, she hates herself for it but she's unable to work anymore.

She has constant nightmares of Flora, she's haunted by her screams and cries of pain. (Along with the image of Flora's murder never leaving her mind.)

She refuses to eat for a while, her mother has to occasionally force her to eat. (Often force feeding her herself.)

She hates hearing about flowers. She absolutely despises it. It sends her into a spiral every single time.

She absolutely despises Mona, but the thought of her never leaves her mind. (iykyk :wink:)

Hates sleeping in the dark, needs a lamp on at all times.

Rarely leaves the house, she barely leaves her room as well.

She sometimes wheels herself into Flora's room and sleeps there, imagining that this was all just a terrible dream.

Her paranoia got 20x worse, she's terrified of everything.

She gets startled at the smallest sounds, even if they're not even scary.

She started thinking of suicide, she doesn't understand the point of living if she can't do anything with herself.

Her room is a mess, and she can't do anything about it. (It makes her feel disgusting)

She feels trapped 24/7. Trapped in the body of someone she isn't. She hates this feeling but she promised herself that she'd live on for Flora.

She has a necklace of Flora's ashes, along with a fingerprint charm.

She wakes up crying 99% of the time, always asking herself what she did wrong.

She needs big doses of melatonin to help her sleep properly.

She barely does anything besides lay in bed, she can't even call her friends without her mother holding the phone for her, but she doesn't like talking to her mother.

MAJOR SURVIVORS GUILT.

POST-WITNESS ;; ROMANTIC

Refuses to face you at first, terrified that you're gonna think she's disgusting.

She's reluctant to talk to you about what happened at first, but eventually warmed up to the idea and started talking more.

She copes this way, by talking out her feelings and letting you listen to her.

She begged you to move in when her mom offered. (She only offered because she was tired of taking care of Tina.)

She still tries to eat for you, will ask you to spoon-feed her :(

You like to wheel her around on walks so she can at least have some fresh air. She enjoys every second of it :)

She wont eat or sleep without you, which is kind of why she wanted you to move in with her in the first place.

She eventually starts to feel better with you around :)

She avoids going to public areas without you, she feels safe with you around <3

She lets you bathe her, she loves it when you wash her hair for her.

Always asking for reassurance, she's terrified that you won't look at her the same.

If ever she feels as if she's "too much," she'll constantly tell you that if you don't wanna take care of her then you don't have to (You want to because you love her and you'd do anything to see her happy <3)

You follow a certain nightly routine with her, which requires you needing to play with her hair and sing her to sleep.

She loves sitting in your lap while you blow-dry and brush her hair.

She loves you, and being around you, even if you can't go on fancy dates anymore (She prefers to stay inside for dates so she doesn't get any weird looks.)

She cherishes every moment she has with you, afraid that she'll lose you.

SHE LOVES LOVES LOVES IT WHEN YOU CARRY HER AROUND!!!!! Lowkey she prefers you carrying her over the wheelchair... :)

IM SORRY IF THESE ARE ASS IM SO FUCKING TIRED AUHGHHH

#law.fic #FINALLY.#tina rosenburg #sorry if these are ass im so exhausted #urbanspook #urbanspook the painter #the painter #tina rosenburg x reader #urbanspok #mona lanius #bill collins #PLS

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velarisnightsky444 · 1 year ago

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Spoiled Little Princess

Azriel x RhysandSister!Reader

AN: This is an excerpt from Stargirl, but changed to second person POV

CW: just angst and a harsh reality check for reader

Summary: Reader is feeling sorry for herself, Azriel gives her a harsh wake up call.

Word Count: 528

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It had been over a year and a half since you and the boys had built the tree house. But only Azriel and you still used it.

It was a late night, your favorite time to be up there. You had chosen the highest tree, so you could see the stars out of the windows.

Azriel passed the bottle of wine you were sharing, and you sipped at it, though you were already a bit drunk.

"I hate my life," you admitted. He let out an irritated scoff. "How could you possibly hate your life?" he demanded. "You have everything." "Then why doesn't it feel like enough?" you wondered.

"Because you're a spoiled princess," he spat. Your eyes snapped to his. "I'm not a--" "You throw a tantrum when you don't get your way. You've had everything handed to you," he pointed out. "I have not," you pouted. "The worst thing that has happened to you is that you have to live in these mountains," he went on. "And your days here consist of eating breakfast, doing your lessons, having lunch, ice skating, and then eating dinner. You grew up in a castle--" "It's not a castle," you argued. "It's huge," he retorted. "You've never gone a day without three meals. You've never had a night where you weren't comfortable in a bed. Your mother loves you more than anything--" "Okay, I get it," you seethed. "I don't have a right to be dissatisfied with my life." "You have no idea how easy you have it," he realized with a scoff. "It's insane to me. You have never suffered." "Isn't that a good thing?" you snapped. "It's an incredible thing," he replied. "I'm happy that you didn't have the upbringings Cassian and I did. It's just irritating to hear you complain." "Just because I wasn't locked away in a cell for eleven years doesn't mean I can't be upset," you glared. "The other girls here hate me because I didn't have my wings clipped." "Would you rather that they did clip your wings?" he demanded. "Would you rather the life my mother had?" "Of course not," you denied, shaking your head. "But it isn't my fault they weren't clipped. So why are the girls so mean?" "Because their lives have been terrible," he snapped. "You don't realize how the other females are treated here. They don't have high status parents to shield them from abuse." "So they're jealous," you shrugged. "Of course they are," he said. "They've been tortured their entire lives, and you're this privileged little princess--" "But I don't deserve the way they treat me," you insisted, tears stinging your eyes. "I never said that," he said softly. "I just mean--"

"I don't care what you mean," you grumbled, pulling your knees to your chest.

One of his shadows came over to you and stroked your cheek, as though attempting an apology for Azriel's harsh words.

But he was right. You didn't know what it was like to truly suffer. You'd spent your life in comfortable bliss, throwing a tantrum at the slightest of inconveniences.

You just took a long sip of the wine, refusing to pass it back to Azriel.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Azriel Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog

comment to be added to the Azriel Taglist!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

#acotar #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #light angst #acotar fanfiction #angst #azriel angst #azriel x reader angst #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #prythian #night court #velaris

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sometimes-men-need-help-too · 1 year ago

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So this guy posted about how his wife "baby trapped" him, with baby trapped in quotes because he didn't know if it necessarily counted. He said she didn't do it to make him stay, just against his will

They've been together for 8 years, have 2 (5f and 2m) kids and when they talked about having kids, she wanted 2 but he wanted 1. They ended up having 2 because she insisted it was important for a child to have a sibling. After his son was born, OP didn't want to go through all the sleepiness nights and everything again. But when their son was a year old, his wife started mentioning having a 3rd child. I would laugh it off but finally she sat me down and said we have to have a third. I said no, we agreed on two, but she said she wanted four and three is the compromise. I refused and said I wanted one and we have two. She got angry and called me selfish for taking away her dream of wanting a big family.

Few days later, she apologized and they had sex. She was on birth control, he had a condom, so they did it. Then one day, she showed him the positive pregnancy test. When she saw his less than happy expression, she berated him for not being supportive, that he should be grateful, etc. So he apologized, hugged her and told her he was excited.

When she was asleep, I took the condoms out of the cupboard and ran them under water. Holes.

I nabbed her phone and saw she'd set a password. That was odd. Nevertheless, my wife has a terrible memory so I tried her birthday and it opened. Further up were texts with her best friend of my wife complaining how I wouldn't come around. Her best friend suggested "arrange an accident" with a winky face. My wife agreed and said she was going to come off of birth control. It went on for a little while, ending with my wife saying that yes, we were going to have a 3rd.

So he woke her up after that to question her about it. She started crying. Through tears she screamed I had no right to go through her phone and it's her choice whether or not she wants to take BC, the side-effects are bad and she was sick. She also brought up if I really didn't want a third kid, I should have had a vasectomy. She told me to go sleep on the couch, I laughed out loud and said no, I'm sleeping here, you're leaving. So while wailing she packed a bag and left to her parents. When she called the next day I told her I just need some time to myself. She said that's fine but I need to come around for our child. I told her I wasn't sure if it'd be "our child" and she cried more.

It's been two weeks since then. Governments recommended to stay at home and I knew staying home by myself while also working with two kids would not be ideal and she wanted to see our kids. So we're in the same house, she constantly keeps on stopping me and trying to get me excited for our kid and planning the nursery and names and how happy our kids will be to get a younger sibling. I've been ignoring her entirely.

A lot of the comments were in his favor so I was happy to see that. But there were also plenty of other comments that weren't as supportive, even downplaying the wife's actions.

There were a number of people who were against him divorcing her, questioning him why he wants to ruin his marriage and his family over this. I just can't get over that, how they're acting like he's in the wrong here. Would you want to stay with someone who crossed the line severely? Would you want to stay with someone you couldn't trust?

She ruined the marriage on her own. He's reacting how anyone can expect someone to react in that kind of situation. A lot of people were insisting he try to fix his marriage and stay for the kids so he doesn't break up the family but that is, in this case, the worst advice someone can give. I'm not sure there's any coming back from this. How could you trust someone like that again? How do you know she wouldn't do it again in the long run because she'd want a 4th baby?

Not to mention, it's a horrible thing to put the kids through. They're already, according to him in a comment, wondering why he isn't talking to their mother (sidenote: some people expressed disbelief that the kids would notice at that age. I haven't spent much time with super little kids like a 2 year old but 5 year old's can be surprisingly observant. Or the wife might have said something to them). If he were to stay and things worsen, like them fighting more often, that just hurts the kids. And it's not a good lesson for them when they get older. There are limits to keeping a relationship with someone.

And of course, his own mental health and happiness are important too.

What bothers me is the justifications people are pulling out in defense of his wife. They are severely downplaying her actions by saying she just wanted a baby, people aren't perfect, etc. Somebody even compared the situation to...rearranging a room.

And then you have others blaming him because he hasn't had a vasectomy yet. That isn't the point of this. If the wife hadn't done anything and he was complaining that she got pregnant, then I would find him more at fault. But what the wife has done is considered reproductive coercion, which is a form of intimate partner violence.

Sure there was a bit of a chance of pregnancy occurring, but she crossed the line in order to get what she wanted. She is at fault here for the pregnancy. And she should be held accountable for that. I've found conflicting information about whether she could face legal consequences, but at the very least we shouldn't be trying to make excuses for her or downplay it to make it sound like it's something innocent.

Because it definitely isn't

#mens rights #double standards #relationships

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catofadifferentcolor · 1 year ago

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Terrible Fic Idea #67: Game of Thrones, but double the irony

My absolute favorite thing in media is when you're presented with a truth at the beginning of the work and, somewhere near the end, the creeping irony of the situation catches up and grabs hold of you until you can no longer breathe. The Boy-Who-Lived must die sort of thing. So naturally I had the thought: how can I add another layer of dramatic irony to Game of Thrones?

Or: What if Rhaegar's bastard daughter and Robert Baratheon's bastard son fell in love?

Aka: The Queen of Nightingales Fic

Just imagine it:

Lyanna Stark dies giving birth to a daughter who takes after her in nearly every respect but the eyes, which are so dark a purple as to be almost black. She bleeds out before she can even name the child, and so her brother names the babe Jenny Snow.

Jenny's childhood follows closely to canon. She is, perhaps a little more tolerated by Lady Catelyn for being less of a direct threat to Robb's inheritance, but otherwise her bastardy allows her to get away with things a lady never could. She learns swordplay along with the needle, but her greatest talent is her voice, which is said to be so lovely even nightingales would pause to listen to her song.

When King Robert comes to visit, Jenny doesn't need to be told to hide away. Unfortunately, her voice carries and she's soon brought before the royal couple to entertain them.

Robert, being Robert, cares less about her singing than the fact she looks like his lost love reborn, but has just enough morals not to force himself on his best friend's daughter. Instead he orders Ned to bring her south and spends the remainder of his life failing to seduce her.

This naturally earns Jenny few friends at court, save for those who value music above all things - who call her Lady Nightingale.

Canon continues apace, with Ned losing his head with both Arya and Jenny in the audience. They're separated in the chaos, with Jenny being taken north by the Night's Watch in the guise a boy and Arya stowing away aboard a ship bound for Braavos.

On the long, circuitous journey, Jenny becomes fast friends with another Night's Watch recruit, Gendry Waters, who eventually learns her secret.

Realizing that continuing to try to head north is only going to get them killed, they run away together. Gendry finds work as blacksmith near Saltpans. Jenny gets work at the local inn. Though they say nothing to the effect, many of the townsfolk believe they eloped together after their parents refused them permission to wed. They don't intend to pose as a married couple either, but fall together on the journey in a soft, destined sort of way that has maidens cooing for the greater part of the next millennium.

The war, however, goes badly. Stannis doesn't resort to using magic to kill his brother, so there are five armies tearing apart Westeros and borders shift daily. Two years into their stay at Saltpans - just a handful of months after Jenny has given birth to her first son, - Renly gains control of the area. Jenny is once again dragged off to entertain a king, but insists that her family be brought along.

A few months later Renly dies of dysentery, putting the Tyrells in a bad spot. Things have gone on too long for them to easily go back on their position that 1) Joffrey is a bastard born of incest, 2) Stannis is a madman and heretic, and 3) Robb and Balon are treasonous upstarts. They can make the claim Margery is still a virgin, but after 2+ years most are going to think they're trying to cover up infertility if they play that card, and she's the only card they have left to play.

Except: All anyone has to do is take one look at Gendry and see a young Robert Baratheon. And all anyone has to do is take one look at his wife and see a Stark - and if they paint a pretty enough picture they can claim her voice came from Rhaegar, making her the rightful Targaryen heir. They're young, untrained bastards. They'll make perfect puppets and allow the Tyrells to rule in all but name.

It's an audacious plan - but it works, if not precisely as the Tyrells plan. Yes, Gendry would rather be in the forge, but Jenny was raised a duty-loving Stark. And while their heir ends up marrying a Tyrell, the Tyrells never gain quite the power the Lannisters once had.

The War of Five Kings ends with the remnants of Renly's forces joining Robb's army and deserters and Joffrey's. They take King's Landing, install their new rulers, and have just long enough to bring in one good harvest before The Others descend. The war takes many good men Westeros can't afford to lose, but ends after Jenny makes peace with Stannis long enough to bolster their forces for one final battle - which, for Stannis, is Redemption Equals Death.

Jenny never quite buys that she's Rhaegar's daughter, thinking all the evidence that crops up through the years has been manufactured by the Tyrells, but there is little doubt Gendry is Robert's son. Jenny does most of the ruling under the name Jaehaera II while Gendry - Gaemon I - is as content to let her do the heavy lifting. It's far from perfect, but is wildly acknowledged to be the best rule the country as seen since Aegon the Unlikely.

Bonuses include: 1) The softest, gentlest, friends to lovers that can be imagined for Jenny and Gendry, with the soft, tentative friendship formed heading north as Night's Watch recruits turning into best friends turning into first crushes into first kisses into first loves. They should get each other in a way that makes it clear that even without romance they would be platonic soulmates, and are just short of disgustingly in love; 2) Tolkien levels of musical inclusion, to the point of being genuinely obnoxious; and 3) All of their children having the Baratheon look, save for the last - twins Daena and Rhaena, the first of which was born with pale lilac eyes and the latter with a bright golden streak down the middle of her black hair.

And that's all I have for this plot bunny. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic idea #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow is a targaryen #female jon snow #gendry waters #gendry baratheon #house baratheon #house stark #house targaryen #targaryen restoration

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 year ago

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"Mai only changed sides because she loved Zuko"

Blatantly false. We see little hints that she was always going to change sides as early as book 2, long before she and Zuko got together.

Her seeming concerned/confused at to why Ty Lee left the circus and then getting confirmation that Azula did something to force her to be part of the team. Her refusing to obey Azula in The Drill. Exchanging a look with Ty Lee when Azula tells Kuei "It's terrible when you can't trust the people closest to you." Plus, in "Zuko Alone" we see that Azula's prank on her and Zuko included putting an apple on her head and setting on fire - things were ALWAYS gonna go south in that friendship.

"I love Zuko MORE THAN I FEAR YOU" is not just highlighting Mai's love for Zuko, but the biggest problem in Mai's relationship with Azula. Being afraid that your friend will use their status as royalty to "punish" you if you displease them IS NOT NORMAL"

"Mai could speak her mind around her parents, so her trauma doesn't make sense"

Zuko tried to show off his firebending skills to Azulon without permission from his father. He demanded to be let into a meeting where he knew he was not allowed, and spoke out of turn. He called Ozai a fool during banishment AFTER being disfigured by the guy. And he chose to go back to his nation.

Does that mean Zuko's backstory as an abused child doesn't make any sense?

No. Because Abusers are not on "evil" 24/7, and the victims have moments of courage.

When we first meet Mai, she's literally at the point of looking at Azula, someone she knows is dangerous, and going "Please say you're here to kill me" and "Sure I'll join you, can't be worse than this place."

Not to mention, her parents are worried sick about Tom-Tom when he disappears, but don't pay any mind to her the entire episode, and we never hear of them trying to talk to her after she leaves, so there is a possibility of them currently ignoring her because of their new child.

"Mai didn't try to get her brother back"

And who was the person who first went "Trading a baby for a king is a terrible deal"?

Azula. The princess. The one who Mai knows just threatened Ty Lee into joining that mission.

I don't doubt that Mai could be a bit apathetic to her brother (the show never really made clear what her silent look at Azula meant), but let's not pretend she could just go "Sorry Azula, I really want my brother back. We're giving them King Bumi and risking losing Omashu."

"Mai bullied servants"

Probably THE biggest lie the fandom says about Mai. She and Zuko were just laying on a couch, cuddlying, and asking for some dessert so they didn't have to get up. Just pampered royals being pampered royals.

They did not do anything like order something that was impossible to prepare, or insisting that the dessert was wrong and having it get "fixed" over and over, or making the servants trip and fall, or deliberately spilling stuff on the floor and ordering them to clean it up.

They. Just. Asked. For. Some. Dessert.

Is anyone who ever asked a waiter to bring them a drink or snack suddenly a bully? Or is it only this cartoon character that people love to hate on for stupid reasons?

"Mai threatened Zuko in the finale"

Seriously? Are REALLY going to act like that wasn't very clearly a JOKE? Are we gonna take Zuko offering to chase Aang around in The Southern Raiders as legitimate threat too, or jokes are only supposed to be taken seriously when they make Mai look bad?

"Mai says she cares but never shows it, and can be read as abusive"

In "The Awakening", after the joke about not asking for Zuko's life story, she hugs and kisses him and tells him to worry, trying to assure him it will all be okay.

In "The Headband" we see them being all cute during their date, and when Zuko says she looks pretty when she hates the world, Mai immediatelly adds a "I don't hate you" - singling him out as one of the few things she actually likes in the WHOLE WORLD.

In "The Beach", after their falling out, seeing him in clear emotional turmoil, Mai once again hugs and kisses him and full on tells him that she cares about him. Sure, she didn't apologize for being harsh when he tried doing nice things like give her that shell, but neither did he apologize for constantly acting like she was gonna cheat because she dared to say "I have neither positve, nor negative feelings for this guy you're feeling threatened by, he is nothing to me"

In "Nightmares and Daydreams" she is cuddling with him for half the episode, REPEATEDLY tries to comfort him, is happy for him when it looks like the meeting went well, and asks whats wrong when he still doesn't look happy - the mere fact that Zuko chooses MAI to be his emotional support during this entire episode and is very open with her about the fact that he didn't feel like himself when he didn't speak his mind during the meeting shows us that Zuko ABSOLUTELY knows he can rely on Mai.

And, of course, in The Boiling Rock Part 2, Mai still chooses to risk everything to save Zuko's life, even after he broke up with her, even though she doesn't understand why he believes joining the Avatar will save their nation.

"We never find out why she loves Zuko/ Maiko only benefits Zuko's arc, not Mai's even though I had just said she can come off as abusive, please ignore the fact that I'm contradicting myself"

Zuko likes her for who she is, explicitly said he liked it when she expressed herself when she shouted at everyone in The Beach (aka the opposite of her parents), and unlike Azula he'd never use his status as royal to always be the most powerful party in their relationship. Is it REALLY that hard to figure out why she likes him?

And how is "This gives her the chance of experiencing genuine love, happiness and a relationship that is just complex instead of abusive" not to her characters benefit? Even if they were to break up someday, it'd still be the first healthy dynamic Mai's ever had. That's the definition of progress - and could be the START of her understanding "The way the Fire Nation works is not great." Who better than the future leader of an actually decent, merciful, peaceful Fire Nation to slowly make her see the problems with how she'd been living her life - first in how she was wronged by others, and then, when she's at a healthier place, she starts to realize how the war and imperialism hurt the whole world.

"Mai never got a arc redemption herself"

I actually agree with this to some extent, but I don't see it as a problem.

Zuko needed three whole years of banishment and a disfigured face to start to CONSIDER changing sides, and he still went back to supporting Ozai for a little while. Indoctrination doesn't just magically go away. He needed time AND someone to guide him to the right path.

Why can't Zuko be that for Mai? Why is HE allowed to deal with this own traumas and internal conflicts before addressing how his actions hurt others, but Mai needs to do it in reverse, even though it would make more sense for her character to go through it in the same order Zuko did?

"I can seen as her trying to get good with the new regime"

QUE? She literally changed sides when Zuko was trying to break out of prison, and about to boiled alive. And even without that, the war was basically already won after the fall of Ba Sing Se.

Mai chose to support Zuko, and again, risk everything for him, when he was AT HIS LOWEST. If she was thinking of sucking up to the person most likely to win, she would have let Zuko die and stuck with Azula.

But she didn't BECAUSE THIS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH MAI TRYING TO SAVE FACE, OH MY GOD, HOW CAN ANYONE EVER TAKE IT THAT AWAY UNLESS THEY'RE DELIBERATELY MAKING SHIT UP?

"Maiko is incompatible and toxic"

We see ONE episode of them clashing terribly (the beach), and in the day of the eclipse we see a (clearly sad) Zuko breaking up with her due not NOT WANTING TO ENDANGER HER. Two episodes of "incompatibility", one of toxicity.

EVERY OTHER MAIKO EPISODE has them being completely fine. Even the Boiling Rock casts them in a good light as we see Mai basically taking a leap of faith and trusting that Zuko knows what he is doing, even if she can't personally understand it.

Zuko has more moments of toxicity lots of other characters, including Iroh and the Gaang, but somehow Maiko gets labelled as THE toxic Zuko relationship.

I'm gonna have to agree with @maikingsenseofit, any attempt at a fair reading of Mai as a character and of her relationship with Zuko (and any possible genuine problems in the writting) disappeared VERY fast and was replaced solely with the typical "This is not my personal preference, therefore I need to make at least one of this characters out to be the devil"

I just saw an interesting maiko post. I didn’t want to comment or reblog because I figured that person didn’t want to have a discord considering the tags and some times tumblr recommended things to you. I probably wasn’t meant to see it honestly, But now I want to talk about it.

It was about how Zuko and Mai are just teenagers who don’t understand each other sometimes and then fail to communicate.

Also about how Mai’s emotionless trait collides with Zuko’s need for emotional validation and Zuko’s controlling possessiveness collides with Mai’s need for freedom. But they care for each other that doesn’t make them a bad couple, and Mai is not a bad girlfriend.

Honestly it a really good way to frame the relationship. I would also call it incompatible, maybe even toxic? it doesn’t make them bad people, but sometimes people do bring out the worst in you. Technically, this is true for Zuko, considering he went back to the fire nation, and he started dating Mai at the same time. Mai is the first person we see him speaking to after betraying his uncle and the show wants us to know he made the wrong choice. Mai is use as a narrative tool for Zuko’s lack of support in the fire nation,he’s miserable when he goes back home, and the one person, you would think he could connect with, his girlfriend, is cold and emotionally withdrawn. The show used Maiko to explore the the emptiness of being home in the fire nation, the empty promises of fire nation glory he been chasing and it doesn’t resonate with him anymore, also the impossible standard of gaining conditional love. (Sorry but Maiko is Zuko centric so it does makes Mai hard to read at best and abusive at worst)

I don’t deny that they care about each other in someway they’ve known each other since they were children, it’s safe and comfortable. but love is not enough. Honestly most toxic relationship in irl continue because they love each but they are not good for one other. Zuko and Mai they don’t understand each other and it seems like they don’t really want to understand each other. That’s the problem. (Mai mostly).

Maiko is really just a toxic cycle of their needs not being met

This scene where Zuko want to talk about his feeing and open up to her

Mai: *yawn* I just asked if you were cold not for your whole life story.

(Not going to lie, that was funny but it’s still a very dismissive thing to say, especially to your partner.)

Zuko is actually a little bit more sympathetic when she tells her “sob story” he didn’t yawn

Zuko: I like when you express yourself.

(her being off and on with her anger. Is like a metaphor for him being in the fire nation, trying to make something work and it’s not working. Constantly feeling like he said or does the wrong thing)

and It just bubbles over until they finally blew up

Zuko’s possessiveness is a reaction to after he feels like he has done all sorts of stuff to please her. it’s zuko reaching his breaking point. Boy is really insecure in this relationship because the feed back he gets from her is contempt. Sure we could argue and say that doesn’t make mai a bad girl friend maybe this is just her sense of humor or personality. well, it doesn’t mesh well with Zuko therefore, they are incompatible, and a bad couple with each other.

( also Zuko is not nice here that’s kind of the point he hads regressed in his character arc so to speak.)

and then they get back together by making out.

Sure she says she cares but why when did she actually show it? Actions speak louder than words! We never get a moment where Mai gets it and really understands him.

#pro mai #pro maiko #mai defense squad #mai deserved better #this fandom does not deserve mai

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dadsbongos · 2 years ago

Text

why did you ask me out? (5)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / chapter 5 - background characters to commercial lines

4.2K words

warnings - jason is homophobic again, attempted outing (jason), extreme bullying, blood, speedrun enemies to friends to lovers trope

summary - You and Chrissy are long-lost best friends that join sides to pull one over on the girls hoping to make you prom queen as a bet. Things don't always go to plan - sometimes you realize you're in love and sometimes the girls shoot back at you.

“Our prom royalty of the evening,” he smiles at the students and holds up a stack of ballots as if anyone could read them, “Jason Carver and…” he searches the crowd for you and tosses his arm out while calling your name, “King and queen of Hawkins High!”

The applause is scattered, slow, confused.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Jason mutters, looping his elbow with yours and practically dragging you up the stairs, “I took the liberty of being your king for the night,” when you chance a look at him, he’s staring right back at you, “Not that you want a king, though, do you?”

Your eyes widen, “What?”

“I always thought the rumors were that,” he shrugs as you two step onto the stage, he stands in front of you. Deceivingly gentle hands settle atop your shoulders, and he leans in to make it look like he’s kissing your cheek, “but you’re trying to turn my Chris to evil, and I know now. You’re cruel, for trying to turn her against God.”

“Jason- “

A sash is lovingly draped over your chest, a crown laid upon your head, and a bouquet held before you.

“Congrats,” Stacey Bennet smiles - genuinely smiles - at you as you take the bouquet and presses an actual kiss to your cheek, “you deserve it.”

In the future, she’ll hope you know that she didn’t know what was coming to you next.

Jason reaches over to squeeze your arm, leaning in, “You deserve this.”

Maybe in another life, this is a nice moment. Maybe in another life you and Chrissy never split up and everybody took the time to get to know you because Chrissy insisted they did. Everybody took the time to unlearn their fears and hatred and grew to love you like Chrissy loves you.

“Jason- !“

But this isn’t another life. It's yours, and yours is a cold tomb halfway from falling shut.

Your heart wrenches. Not this again. It’ll be different coming from Jason Carver this time. It won’t go away and people will believe it this time - more than last time. It’s the second time anyway, this time they’ll know for sure. It’ll escape the school grounds. Your parents will hear about it this time.

“Thank you, everyone, for your kind votes,” Jason steps to the side as if to give more room for the student body to see you, like you’re an exhibit at the zoo, “I get to share the stage with this lovely young woman.”

Eddie shoves Patrick aside and scrambles out from under the bleachers. His eyes catch yours and he sees the fear he promised he’d never let you feel again after that night in ‘85. He tries to push his way through the crowding teenagers.

“Where the fuck is Chrissy?” Eddie hisses to himself, desperately trying to get Jason off the stage before he can put the final nail in your reputation’s coffin. But he is no match for the banded shoulders and resistant bodies.

Gareth and Kimmy press off the wall they’d been standing at.

“Oh, this is nice,” Kimmy mutters, tugging on her boyfriend’s sleeve.

Gareth shakes his head, “Something’s wrong.”

Something is terribly wrong.

“Jason,” you go to step forward but Jason puts up a hand to stop you.

He laughs into the mic, “This lovely woman is born of sin.”

Your hands clench and you realize how pointless the battle of high school has been. There’s only a month and a half left anyway, you can bite your tongue until graduation and then your loyal four are free to run away in the van. You hope to God Chrissy had nothing to do with this.

You refuse to believe she did.

But you can’t see her in the crowd. She never came back.

Jason takes a deep breath and you clench your eyes as if it would shut out what you know is coming.

There’s a resounding gasp settled in part from each student’s shock. It almost tempts you to open your eyes and see what they see.

And then you feel it.

Like syrup it drools and like Niagra Falls it gushes. Thick. Slick.

Lukewarm, and you hate to wonder how long it was sitting above you. How detailed was the plan?

You peel your eyes open and blood drips from your crown, trailing over the lanes of your face. You stare down at the red that crawls along your skin. Your fingers are twitching. Your eyes dart up to the student body and you feel shortness of breath at their faces.

It was a bad idea to come. Worse than bad. It was like trying to take on the Tarrasque from the getgo of a campaign. Rot and iron sting your nostrils and no matter how tightly you seal your lips, the taste is burning at your tongue and the inside of your cheeks.

Not a single person is laughing.

For how much they claim to hate you, they’re all silent. Even Patrick. Even Jason.

Maybe even this is too fucked up for them.

Maybe nobody knew about this except the ones who planned it.

Where’s Chrissy?

You want to scream.

You want to yell and throw a punch and huff and puff and blow the whole town down, but you can’t. You crumble and the big, bad freak everyone set up in their head topples over.

A few giggles break out now. The particularly cruel people.

You can’t scream, you’re stuck. A bucket clatters to the ground and you chance another look down at yourself as the telltale signs of Eddie shoving his way through a crowd break across the gym.

The dress is matted with blood. You can feel the red slick drip from your hair and down your skin - it’s in your ears. You feel it between your eyes. You feel it drying between your joints. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if it’s the force of tears coming through or if blood is getting in your eyes.

“You motherfuckers!” Eddie shouts and principal Higgins seems to come back to life from his shock.

Higgins turns to the crowd but you can’t hear whatever he’s saying. Your ears are ringing. You can’t hear Chrissy sobbing for help from the storage closet. You can’t hear Eddie as he slings threats and insults alike at Jason Carver.

His hands land on your shoulders and he shakes you, “Hey, hey!” your eyes flutter and you jump, “C’mon, we’re getting outta here.”

“Chrissy…” you mutter, head swinging to try and find her among the whispering crowd, “Where’s Chrissy?”

You swallow the lump building in your throat and the taste of blood is mercilessly tied in.

“I dunno,” Eddie hurries you to the doors, shoving back anybody who tries stepping forward (even though you’re sure at least a few of them are genuinely concerned), “We’re leaving, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Gareth and Kimmy rush to the double doors and slam them open for you and Eddie to run through.

“Holy shit, she got Carrie’d!” a boy shouts once you’re all outside.

There’s a scream trapped in your gut, but you grit your teeth and swallow it. More blood taints it.

Kimmy shoots the boy the bird as Gareth tosses open the passenger side door of Eddie’s van, ripping off his tux’s overcoat and laying it over the seat. He turns to where Eddie is muttering to you, unafraid of the blood that is undoubtedly slipping from your dress to his white button up and jeans.

“I don’t wanna get in the van,” you shake your head, your lungs squeeze and you feel lightheaded. Your mind is reeling and your eyes clench - blood is definitely in your eyes this time.

“What?” you can’t see him, but you’re certain that Eddie’s brows are furrowed and his mouth is frozen open.

“I’m covered in blood, I’ll get it everywhere- I- “

You feel Eddie’s rings dig deeper into your skin as he squeezes your shoulders, “I don’t give a shit, you’re my friend and you just got fucking blood poured on you - you’re absolutely insane if you think I’m listening to you right now. Get in the fucking van, I’m taking you home.”

But you stay put, your arms fly up to cross over your chest, “Not my house, I don’t want my family to see me like this…”

“Alright, not yours, but get in the van,” he’s gentle with you as he guides you into the van, “Just try not to lean back and you won’t have to worry about the blood, alright?”

An unlikely outcome, but you nod. You rest your head in your hands and finally the scream tumbles. It’s raw and it rips your throat nearly sore. You feel the blood squish between your palms and your knees clench. Eddie shuts the door with a final promise to get you to his home.

Why this?

Why now?

Why you?

What the fuck did you do?

A few of the students hanging around outside jump as you scream again.

“We’ll get another ride,” Gareth has no idea how when none of the prom attendees even like him, “just get her back safe.”

Kimmy looks at you when Eddie runs to his van. You’re rocking back and forth and she watches your shoulders bob and she listens as you cry. Your sobbing grows in volume and a few kids stare. A few kids come running out of the gym and just manage to catch you crying as Eddie’s wiping the blood away from your eyes.

With a final slam of her body into the storage closet door, Chrissy plummets onto the hard floor. Looking up, she sees principal Higgins holding the chair she assumes was jamming her in. She wants to ask what happened and she wants to pretend that the gasps and screams of horror were nothing. She wants to act like the clang of metal falling onto the stage meant nothing. And more than anything, she wants to forget she ever saw the blood on the soles and sides of Higgins’ fancy dress shoes.

She wants to act like she doesn’t have an idea of what the people she called friends did to the one person she actually loved.

…

Eddie has more trouble undoing the back lace of your dress than Chrissy would have. You tell him that. He laughs but you can tell it’s only so you don’t feel alone. So you don’t know that he’s pitying you - but that’s the curse of being Eddie’s best friend, you can feel it in his eyes. When he sees the blood already staining your skin and he notices how you shake, you can feel it.

You catch the dress before it can pool at your feet and you’re brought back to earlier today, when you let your dress fall free and let Chrissy stand in the stall with you.

“I’ll assume you know how to work - that,” Eddie looks away as he waves a hand at the shower, “I’ll leave clothes on the floor. If you need anything I’m out back,” before he can slide out of the bathroom, he says, “And leave your dress outside the door, too.”

“You gonna save it, Eddie the Hero?”

“I’ll try my damnedest.”

That’s a gift of being anyone that Eddie cares about. He will give you his heart and soul and he’ll take on any task. He once told you that you reminded him of himself and part of you hopes he thinks you’re as kind as him.

He knocks the wood of the door frame and finally exits. You run the shower warm and abandon your dress outside the door.

Eddie takes the dress and your shoes and he fills a kiddie pool with cold water and lemon juice - something he knows Wayne will be on his ass about tomorrow (“Do you think we’re made of money, boy?”). But Eddie doesn’t care and when Wayne learns the why, he won’t either.

Your dress soaks in the pool while Eddie scrubs at the shoes you borrowed from Chrissy.

You wonder if maybe she did know. You don’t think so, or at least you hope so. Chrissy is softhearted and she loves you - loved, perhaps is a more appropriate term now - and she wouldn’t do this. No matter how much she disliked people, this evil was not her.

But why did she run?

She was staring off into the distance, you remember. Maybe she saw what was happening and ran. But why run? Why run if she had nothing to do with it?

You’d hate to imagine it was all a trick after all.

“Please, it’ll be fun, I swear - we can catch up! You won’t even have to talk to the others, I promise!”

“Just thought you’d like to go to prom with us. I wanted to hang out with you again. I miss you.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here, right? Make amends and such?”

“I want us to be kids again so that I can do right by you."

You tip your head back and work at scrubbing the blood from your scalp.

Chrissy was never a good liar. She had a specific tell - where she grabbed an elbow. There was no way she was lying.

So why did she run?

You’re dressed in Eddie’s Metallica shirt and a pair of his finest pajama pants - no holes or anything! - when you find him. He’s still sitting there, a plastic chair under him and a blood stained ball gown draped across his lap. His head is shaking and you can hear him muttering as he violently scrubs.

You let the back door fall shut and Eddie’s head darts up.

“Hey.”

You sit in the chair at his side and watch him return to scrubbing.

“It’s not gonna come out, Eds.”

He hates how quiet you are.

“It’ll come out,” he insists.

He’s been rubbing at the stains for over fifteen minutes with nothing to show for.

“It’s okay.”

He throws down the cloth and his voice shakes in a way you’ve only heard a few times before, “It’s not okay.”

Eddie looks at you now and he hates the silent solemness to your expression. The acceptance of your torture. You hate the tears beginning at his waterline.

Eddie sniffles and presses his lips, looking away, his curls bounce as he shakes his head again, “Why is it so fucking hard for them to just give it up?” he returns his eyes to you and his lips are wobbling, “This was your night to just be happy and finally have something right and they- they, of course, had to ruin it all,” weakly, his hand fumbles for yours and you reach for him as well, “I’m sorry… I should’ve done something sooner.”

“Like what?”

“Just something- anything.”

“There wasn’t anything to do.”

“I could’ve been faster,” Eddie is not a crier, but his cheeks glisten in the moonlight anyway, “I just…” he squeezes your hand, “You’re like a little sister t’me, I just wanted you to be happy. To have something. To have a night.”

“I’m happy,” he narrows his lashes at you and you shrug, “I am happy. I mean, not right now. But I will be. I got you, don’t I, Eds?”

“Pretty shit deal.”

“I’ll take it over prom queen any day,” you grin at him, “Besides, how many people can say they’ve been Carrie’d?”

This brings the tally of times Eddie has cried in front of you to a solid five. When he broke his wrist. When Wayne got pneumonia. When Gareth’s family got into a car wreck. When he failed senior year the second time. When you got blood dumped on you at the senior prom.

“It’s okay, Eds,” you insist this time, you squeeze his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

His lip wobbles and he sniffles, “I love you, man.”

“I love you too.”

Eddie releases your hand to frame the blanket between his fingers, “What d’ya think? Banner material?”

His voice is still creaky and his hands shake, but anything to make him stop blaming himself.

“What?” you lean over and feel at the material, “Wanna make my prom dress the banner for Corroded Coffin?”

“Yeah,” he says it like it’s completely obvious, “what’s more metal than that?”

“If we got the pig they used.”

“How do we know they used a pig?”

“Well, if they didn't... Then here’s to them getting the life sentence,” you bring up your fist and Eddie bumps it with his own.

There’s the sound of tires on dirt - a car door slams open before the vehicle is even at a complete stop. When the car’s parked, there’s fists at Eddie’s door and you know exactly who it is.

You’re almost embarrassed of how quickly your feet move. Not embarrassed enough for it to slow your pace, though.

“Chris?”

The girl turns, wide-eyed and fists split seconds away from cracking down on Eddie’s door again. She’s breathless the moment she sees you and her knees shake as she climbs down the steps and falls into your arms. She squeezes you like she was the one hurt tonight and you can feel her body wrack with sobs.

“I’m sorry- “ she hiccups and squeezes, “I didn’t- I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Chrissy buries her head into the crook of your neck, her hair tickles your skin and her arms wind tighter around you, “I was locked in the closet… Nobody heard me.”

You look at Eddie for an inkling of what to do but he’s already quietly sneaking back into his trailer. You two meet eyes for a moment and you don’t waste a second to mouth ‘bitch’. He nods overdramatically and gives you a thumbs up.

“You really didn’t know?” you figured she didn’t. Chrissy wasn’t cruel, and she wasn’t a good liar. No matter what your scorned brain wanted to conjure.

“I didn’t,” you can feel her tears through Eddie’s shirt.

Chrissy’s always been a little weepy. She cries during movies. She cries when she’s excited. She cries when she laughs too hard. She cries when something bad happens to someone else. She cries when she argues (“wet anger”, you remember her calling it). She cries when there’s too much emotion pent up to do anything else.

You’ve always admired her ability to let go and be unabashedly tearful.

She’s crying because you were hurt and she couldn’t do anything and she just wants everyone to be okay everywhere, all the time. She just wants you to be okay all the time. And that’s not a bad thing. Not at all.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have taken you,” she mutters once she’s calmed down a bit.

You didn’t even notice how tightly you were hugging her back.

“I know, Chris,” you bring your lips to her hair and press a tentative kiss to her head, “Let’s go inside.”

She pulls back and wipes at her eyes, mascara and eyeshadow smudging as she does, “You forgive me?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you take her hand and help her up the stairs to Eddie’s trailer, “I also wanna kiss you really bad but I don’t trust these people.”

Chrissy giggles and hurries into the trailer with you. The door barely slams shut before she’s pressing her soft lips to yours and trailing her hands along your waist. Your arms loop around her neck and if this kiss is what gets you sent to fiery hell - you don’t wanna see heaven.

Eventually, you two are situated back at your own trailer. Your parents are asleep and your bedroom door’s lock just got fixed - and you’d be lying through your teeth to say you two didn’t take advantage of that.

The next day, Chrissy will sit with you at lunch. And all the days following that. And Jason will be fuming and Chrissy won’t care. You think Mike and Dustin figure it out when they see the way you and Chrissy share overly affectionate glances. When they see the boys teasing you before they sit at the table. When they see you two sitting so close together that your legs are pressing together - just so none of the other students can see your hand placed on her thigh.

They definitely figure it out by the time Lucas builds the courage to sit with Hellfire again. Lucas figures it out right away - Chrissy was never once that close with her friends.

1988.

“Wow,” you run your thumb over the pink penned letters, “I don’t think I’ve listened to any of these in years. Probably could’ve gone forever.”

“Yeah, well,” Chrissy bumps her shoulder with yours, “you’re gonna learn today.”

“Learn what? The importance of Madonna and ABBA? And…” your brows furrow, “New Order - Blue Monday?”

“Yeah,” she looks up at you while you’re reading the song list, “maybe you’ll stop being such a music snob.”

“I’m not a music snob,” you weakly defend.

“As soon as you saw Wham! you cringed, I saw it.”

“Well, Wham! is bland,” you suddenly gasp and turn to your girlfriend, “The Runaways- Blondie! Hey, we’re getting somewhere.”

“You say all this as if you don’t make me listen to bands called, like, Blood Death Massacre or something.”

“I don’t make you…” you mutter, “Also, Blood Death Massacre was what I wanted to name Corroded Coffin.”

“Ew,” Chrissy yanks herself back, hands clasped over her mouth, “Really? Baby, you’re kidding.”

“I’m not, baby,” you grin and twist your body to look at her, “Let’s put this on, yeah?”

“You’re actually gonna listen to it?” she glows under the idea.

You shrug, crossing the floor of your shared bedroom to your shared cassette player, “Why wouldn’t I? My hot girlfriend made it with love, obviously ‘m gonna listen.”

Chrissy has always admired the way you love music. You seem to live on it. The only time you’re more alive than on stage, is when you’re with her. She loves music too, but it’s different - and she loves that you admire that in her, too. You support her through college - though you and the guys do occasionally tease her for being a theater major, of all things - and you support her for any roles she gets.

They’re all minor, ranging from split-second background characters to commercial lines, but you insist that her work is that of a genius. You say her level of recognition will be like if Jane Fonda, Sigourney Weaver, and Michelle Pfeiffer’s talents all had a kid.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar breaks through the apartment and your head bops to the music. You turn to Chrissy and extend a hand.

She can’t help the broad grin that drags over her lips as she takes your hand. You pull her close and twist in time with the rhythm.

“You like this song a lot for a metalhead,” Chrissy teases, but she doesn’t stop following your lead for a second.

“Don’t tell our record label,” you chuckle, “Corroded Coffin’s payin’ the bills, I can’t be exposed as anything but a strict metal and rock fan.”

You’re half joking and half not, fans can be insane at times - as much as you appreciate their appreciation.

“I think you’d pave the way,” Chrissy pauses dancing to twirl you, “Like Joan Jett’s punk era but hotter.”

“That’s such a compliment,” you return the favor and twirl Chrissy despite the pop song not befitting such a move.

Corroded Coffin is doing bizarrely well for a metal band that started in Buttfuck, Indiana. You suppose it had something to do with Creepy Carrie, a song everyone thinks was written in the male perspective about the girl who Tommy Ross’d the guy being locked in a closet and unable to help as he’s humiliated.

It wouldn’t sell otherwise, so Eddie gets to take credit for writing it “based on your experience” - for now.

“When times are better,” you promised Chrissy, “I’ll take credit for the song. And I’ll make out with you on stage.”

She giggled as though you were joking.

When times are better, you and Chrissy will have the liberty of kissing on stage and holding hands on tours. She won’t have to be the band assistant and she won’t have to lie, she can finally just be your girlfriend.

Fuck “family values” and fuck the little black book people would kill you for not following.

“I’ll try and sneak something like this into the next album,” you tug Chrissy into a hug as One Way Or Another by Blondie takes over the speakers, “Less stalker-ish, though. I mean popish.”

“I get it,” Chrissy’s arms squeeze you into herself and she tilts her head so she can peck your lips, “What? You don’t want to sound insane in a song?”

“So much respect to Debbie Harry, but no.”

Eddie will more than likely reject the song as a metal puritan, but you might just have to release it as a single to fuck with him. Also because you told Chrissy you would, and you’d do anything to see her smiling the way she is now.

“I love you,” you take her cheeks into your hands and squish them as The Runaway’s Cherry Bomb sparks to life, “I love you so much.”

She giggles and pulls your hands back, she weaves her fingers with yours and presses another kiss to your lips. Her breath faintly fans your lips as she speaks,

“I love you so much, too.”

Why did you ask me out? you think of asking.

To get right here - where we belong. she would answer.

#chrissy x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham x you #chrissy cunningham fic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #wdyamo fic #chrissy.🍑

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts you should do some rebuke and hurt/comfort!!

Sorry this took so long, but luckily there's a lot of it!! Hope you enjoy!

This is part of my All Too Well Splinterverse series, so a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, cause there we are again in the middle of the night, and so casually cruel in the name of being honest. It won't make much sense if you haven't read all three of those.

read on ao3 here!

Bobby gives it three days. Three days where he catches up on missing homework and takes his antibiotics and a lot of naps and feels like a terrible person. And then he calls Luke.

“I fucked up,” he says the second Mrs. Patterson passes over the phone, without so much as bothering to say hello.

“Whoa, uh, okay,” Luke says, and coughs a little awkwardly. “Did you cheat on me or something? Are we breaking up? Cause if we’re breaking up, you gotta at least give me twenty minutes to get over there; no way in hell am I letting you dump me over the phone.”

“No! What? No.” Bobby’s out in the studio for some privacy; he sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, grips the cordless phone a little tighter. “This has nothing to do with you! I fucked up with Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Luke repeats. “Dude, what’d you do? Kick a puppy or something?”

Bobby lets out a sigh that’s really more of a groan. To be fair, he probably could’ve started this conversation with just a tiny bit of context. “ No. I just… I think I hurt his feelings.”

Luke’s quiet for a really long time, in that thoughtful, pensive way he usually only gets when he’s writing a song. It’s usually accompanied by a lot of bouncing and fidgeting, because Luke gets restless easily, and if he can’t expel energy through his mouth, he’s gotta let it out some other way or he’ll implode. It almost brings a smile to Bobby’s lips, just thinking about it. Finally, Luke says, “Can I come over?”

Despite himself, Bobby’s stomach flips at the question. He and Luke have talked almost every day in the last week or so, but they haven’t actually seen each other in person since Luke got out of the hospital. They’ve both been too sick, and then Luke’s been trying to stay home as much as he can, build some trust back up with his mom.

“I might be contagious still,” Bobby warns him, rubbing absently at his chest. “No fever since the day before yesterday, but I’ve still got this cough I can’t shake.”

Luke scoffs, like he knows just as well as Bobby how lame an excuse that is. “Bro, I’m pretty sure I can’t catch the cold I gave you. If you’re not ready, I get it, but… whatever happened with Reggie, I think it’d be easier if we talk face to face.”

Luke pauses, then adds, “Plus, you know… I really do want to see you.”

Bobby has to swallow past a piercing ray of sunshine shooting through his stomach. “I want to see you, too. Okay, come on over, just know my mom’s probably gonna fuss over you.”

“Yeah, well, the last time she saw me, I was unconscious and dying, so I can’t exactly blame her.”

A smile tugs at Bobby’s lips. He and Luke may have gotten together under the strangest circumstances— and “together” is still sort of a loose term; mostly, they’ve just made out a couple times and Luke gave Bobby bronchitis— but at least they have each other now. More than that, even— they both have their families back.

“Think your mom will be cool?” Bobby checks. “With you coming over, I mean? I know she’s been keeping you on kind of a tight leash. And I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“She’s barely met you,” Luke points out.

“Yeah, and the one time she did, she called me a kidnapper. And something in French that you refuse to translate.”

“Purely for your own good.” Luke’s teasing grin is audible, even over the phone. “Listen, Bobbers, that was an emotional day for us all, and Emily Patterson is hardly well-known for being calm and rational under stressful circumstances. But once I sat her down and explained everything to her, I think the ‘saved me from dying’ thing made up for the ‘hid me in your garage for two months’ thing. She likes you just fine.”

Bobby’s not entirely sure he believes him, but there’s no point in pushing it. “Well, if you need me to come over there instead, just let me know.” He starts to swing his legs off the couch, bending over to search for his shoes, but has to pause to cough into his elbow a few times, his chest twinging.

“Half an hour,” Luke insists. “And drink some tea while you wait for me, I don’t like that you’re still coughing.”

Bobby grumbles noncommittally, lays back down on the couch. “Just get over here, Patterson. I can’t deal with your mother henning over the phone.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, and it might just be the most beautiful sound Bobby’s ever heard. “Love you, too, baby.”

***

Luke hangs up the phone and immediately takes stock of himself.

The last week, living back at home with his mom and dad again, has not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s gotten more patient since running away from home. Maybe his parents have gotten a little more perspective. Maybe all three of them just needed a few months apart and a serious wake-up call to start seeing things through each other’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Luke and his mom haven’t fought once since he moved back home, and his dad even told Luke he’d like to come to one of his shows once Sunset Curve starts playing again. They’ve had to establish a lot of new boundaries, the three of them, and quite a few ground rules— if Luke weren’t sick, he’d be in trouble, his mom said, but she thought his hospital stay and cracked ribs were punishment enough— but so far things have been good. And Luke would very much like to keep them that way.

So, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The breath is free of congestion, doesn’t make him cough or hurt his ribs anymore. His face is a little red— purely just because talking to Bobby these days makes him blush like crazy— so he splashes some cool water on his face and waits until the flush fades from his cheeks before he heads out to the living room.

Emily’s sitting on the couch with her knitting, an old episode of The Brady Bunch playing low on the TV. She looks up and smiles when he enters, and Luke’s skin crawls a little. She gets this look on her face sometimes, when she looks at him now. Like she can’t believe how lucky she is. Like she still sort of expects to wake up and find she’s lost him. Again.

It makes Luke feel all sorts of guilty.

“Off the phone?” she asks him, a little redundantly, as he hands over the cordless. “How’s Robert?”

“Bobby’s feeling better,” Luke says honestly. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and rocks back and forth on his heels, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. “Can I go to his tonight? Something happened between him and Reggie, I was gonna help him out.”

Emily frowns, but doesn’t outright refuse, or accuse him of lying so that he can go out and play a club or something, like she might have three months ago. Maybe she really does trust him more now, or maybe she just likes Reggie enough to put aside her suspicions, but all she says is, “How are you feeling?”

Luke takes another slow breath, letting her hear how it doesn’t so much as catch in his throat. “No cough, no fever. Ribs only hurt when I get out of breath, but I’ll bike slowly, and we won’t be playing or anything. I’ll leave my guitars here, even.”

He sees it in his mom’s expression— the trust in him, the complete and utter belief she has that he’s telling her the truth. It’s something he might’ve taken advantage of, before. But for the first time in his life, he has absolutely no desire to lie to her.

Emily gently lays her knitting down on the coffee table in front of her and gestures Luke forward, stretching out a hand. He obediently leans down to let her brush his fringe aside and feel his forehead.

She hums approvingly a moment later and lets him go. “Ask your father to drive you. Will you be home for dinner, or are you spending the night?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke says, “but I’ll call around five either way?”

“Perfect.” She gives him that smile again— that look — and Luke turns away before he can think too hard about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

His dad is quiet on the drive over, but he lets Luke fiddle with the radio and kick his feet up on the dashboard, and doesn’t protest when Luke rolls the window up and down every five minutes. He parks the car in Bobby’s driveway, right outside the studio, but doesn’t shut the engine off. Something tells Luke to linger an extra moment or two before getting out.

“You need any money?” Mitch asks, finally.

No, but I’ll take some, Luke would’ve said, before, and then probably blown it on junk food or guitar picks or something. Instead, he shakes his head, leg bouncing, says, “Nah, dad, we’re just gonna be talking.”

Mitch nods and leans forward to peer through the windshield up at the studio. Luke follows his gaze. He can only imagine what his dad must be thinking: So this is where my son was living for two months because he didn’t feel safe at home.

“I’ll call home to let you know when to pick me up,” Luke says, desperate to fill the silence, and reaches for the door handle. “See you later, Dad.”

He catches half a glimpse of his father’s face as he heads up the drive: Mitch looks pensive and sad, and at least twenty years older than he really is.

Luke drags in a breath, and tries not to feel too guilty.

He’s barely rapped his knuckles against the studio door when it’s yanked open from the inside and Luke gets a faceful of t-shirt as Bobby tugs him into a strong-armed hug.

“Hey!” Luke laughs breathlessly. “I missed you, too.”

Bobby presses his face into Luke’s neck, tightening his hold. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, baby.” Luke rubs his back, trying to follow his instincts without getting too self-conscious. He hasn’t seen Bobby in a while, and somehow using pet names and terms of endearment was easier over the phone. Holding him and letting himself be held was easier when he was sick and hurting and had an easy excuse. But he doesn’t want Bobby to think Luke loves him any less, or that Luke’s ashamed of him or something, just because they’re both healthy.

Still. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, lips pressed into Bobby’s hair. “My dad’s kinda sitting in his car watching us, and I can feel him getting uncomfortable.”

Bobby snorts, his shoulders shaking under Luke’s touch. But then he nods and pulls away, swiping the back of his hand across his face; Luke thinks he catches the glisten of tears.

Inside the studio, with the doors shut tight and the sound of Luke’s dad’s car disappearing down the street, Luke sits Bobby down on the couch and says, “So. Reggie.”

Bobby’s quiet as he tells the story, his head ducked low and his hands clasped tightly between his legs. Luke keeps a hand on Bobby’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he listens to Bobby talk.

When he goes quiet, Luke takes a minute to breathe and think, before he carefully summarizes, “So… Reggie’s mad at you cause you didn’t wanna tell Alex about your headaches?”

“Reggie’s mad at me,” Bobby corrects, his voice breathy with exhaustion, “because I didn’t wanna tell him either. If he hadn’t caught me in the middle of one, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“How come?” Luke tries for gentle, but he’s not sure he quite makes the mark. “You had no trouble telling me.”

“You’re easy,” Bobby grumbles. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to make a good first impression. Doesn’t matter so much if you think I’m weak.”

“And it does with Reggie?” He doesn’t bother asking about Alex. Luke loves the guy, but he knows better than anyone how bitey and judgmental Alex can get. How slow to trust. Luke doesn’t much love showing weakness in front of Alex either. But Reggie… “Bro, Reggie just wants to be helpful. He’d care that you’re hurting, not that you weren’t totally together all the time. He wouldn’t think you’re weak.” He adds as an afterthought, “...and Alex would get over it.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. He chokes on it, then turns away from Luke to cough into his fist. Luke rubs his back, feeling the tremors that the coughing fit causes, and winces in sympathy as Bobby takes a slow breath and rubs his chest like it hurts. Luke knows the feeling.

Acting on instinct, Luke reaches over and brushes Bobby’s hair back, pressing a palm to his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm, thank god, but he still leans into the touch, his eyes closing in relief, even as he mumbles, “Told you, I don’t have a fever.”

“I know,” Luke says softly, and really means, I’m sorry. “You want my advice, about Reggie?”

Bobby gives a tiny nod, makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat that Luke is pretty sure is supposed to be a yes.

“You don’t have to try so hard. Reggie and Alex both, they… they want to be your friends. You just gotta let them.” He runs his hand through Bobby’s hair in slow, gentle strokes. “And with Reggie, a sincere apology goes a long way.”

Bobby nods again and slumps over to lay his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll call him in the morning. For tonight…” Luke feels him tense, but when Bobby lifts his eyes to Luke’s, they’re open and vulnerable and honest, as he says, “Will you stay?”

Luke’s heart does a happy little flip-flop inside his chest. “Of course I will.” He presses a kiss to Bobby’s head and reluctantly pushes himself up off the couch. “Lemme just go call my folks and let them know I’m sleeping over. If I’m not back in ten, assume your mom’s kidnapped me to test out that aromatherapy treatment she kept going on about. And I’m bringing you tea.”

Bobby protests out of principle, calls him a nuisance, and a worrywart and a nag, but Luke feels Bobby’s smile on his back all the way out the door.

***

Reggie drops his bike along the wall beneath the Pattersons’ front window and skips up to the door, swallowing back the nerves drying his throat before quickly jabbing his finger against the doorbell.

Its chime echoes long and loud, enough that it makes Reggie flinch, makes him pick at his fingers and start to think that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea after all.

Because Luke’s still recovering. Luke’s got a boyfriend now. Luke shouldn’t have to spend time and energy worrying about Reggie and all his problems.

But before Reggie can turn around and leave, the door opens, and Luke’s mom smiles at him.

“Reginald! How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you!” Reggie smiles politely, bouncing on his heels a little. “How are you, Mrs. P?”

“I’m just fine, Reginald.” She leans against the doorway, her expression turning a little amused. “Did you need something, dear? Luke’s not home.”

“Oh, he’s not?” Reggie’s heart sinks. He clears his throat a little. “Um, is he… do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning. He’s staying at Robert’s tonight.”

“He’s sleeping over?” he repeats, surprised. Mitch and Emily Patterson don’t seem like the kind of parents who’d be particularly chill about their son spending the night at his boyfriend’s house.

It only then occurs to Reggie that maybe they don’t know Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend…

“I have the phone number,” Mrs. Patterson says, oblivious to Reggie’s conundrum, “if you needed to get in touch with Luke.”

“Oh. Oh, no, it’s okay.” Reggie fixes his smile back into place, swallows thick disappointment. “I’ll head over to Bobby’s, or… or I’ll catch Luke another time. Thanks, Mrs. P!”

He thinks she might start to say something else, but Reggie doesn’t hang around to listen. He scoops up his bike and disappears down the drive, pedaling as hard as he can so the adrenaline will overtake his complex jumble of emotions.

He shouldn’t bother Luke. He doesn’t really need him. He’d just been lonely, and his parents were fighting, and getting out of the house seemed like a really good idea at the time. Plus, he’s been sulking for days now since he yelled at Bobby, and Luke somehow always knows how to cheer Reggie up, even if Reggie wasn’t exactly planning on telling him what’s wrong.

But Luke’s with Bobby. Reggie can’t interrupt them. Luke will almost undoubtedly be mad at Reggie if he finds out Reggie shouted at his boyfriend. Bobby’s probably mad at him already.

As far as Reggie knows, Bobby might just turn him away on sight. Before Reggie even has half a chance to apologize.

Despite this thought process, Reggie’s bike skids to a stop on familiar concrete, bringing him to the realization that he rode to the studio without even thinking about it.

One of the doors has been left open. He can smell popcorn and spices carried out on the wind. He can hear Luke’s laughter, Bobby coughing, a Rolling Stones album playing softly in the background.

It makes Reggie’s throat feel tight, makes it hurt to breathe. He’s so… lonely. He wants what they have, and knows he can’t get it.

He should just go home.

He starts to turn away, but Luke’s voice stops him, calling, “Reg, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

Reggie swallows and awkwardly turns back to face the studio, where Luke’s lounging in the doorway grinning at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Reggie manages a tiny smile of his own that he can only hope is convincing. “Hey, Luke. You, uh… your mom told me you’d be here.”

Reggie starts to add, But I should probably just go, but the words die on his tongue when Bobby appears over Luke’s shoulder, looking pale and tired, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up at his ears.

“Hey, Reg,” Bobby says, low and gruff.

Reggie swallows, his hands tightening their grip around the handlebars of his bike. “I just… I wanted to talk to Luke?” he says simply, which isn’t totally a lie. “But I can go… if I’m not welcome.”

“What?” Bobby’s expression crumples, and he pushes past Luke to step forward, toward Reggie. “Reg, no, I— of course you’re welcome here. You’re always—” He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder at Luke, who gestures encouragingly. Bobby sighs and turns back, squaring his shoulders. “Reggie, I need to apologize to you. Again.”

Reggie gapes, baffled. “Wha— I— Bobby, no, I should be apologizing to you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, but you were right!” Bobby takes another step forward, close enough that he can reach out a hand to hover over Reggie’s, still gripping tight to his handlebars. “Reggie, I’m not good at asking for help. I’m not used to being seen as weak and not having that be a bad thing. But I’m done lying, and I’m done hiding things. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Reg. And I do want to be your friend.” He takes a deep breath, shoots Luke another quick look, and then says softly, “I’m gonna start being better, Reggie. I promise. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I didn’t like you. I do. I really do.”

Reggie’s left speechless, and a little choked. He stands there for a few moments, his mouth working but no sound coming out, and stares at Luke and Bobby both, searching their faces for any hint of a sign from either of them that Bobby’s kidding or making fun of him.

Reggie knows Bobby doesn’t mean it— liking him — the way Reggie wants him to, the way Reggie likes him back. But it still puts a lump in his throat, to hear Bobby say it at all — Bobby who never admits to liking anyone!

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started crying until he tastes salt on his lips and Luke bounds forward to pull Reggie into his arms. That seems to break the floodgates open, then; Reggie lets his bike fall to the concrete with a clatter, buries his face in Luke’s shirt, and sobs.

Luke doesn’t ask why he’s crying, or tell him to stop. He just holds Reggie tight, and when Reggie chokes out, “I was just so lonely, ” whispers, Shh, it’s okay, I know.

Somehow, they end up inside the studio on the folded-out couch. Luke gently pushes Reggie to lie down in the middle, and then immediately climbs in next to him, pulling a mountain of blankets over them both.

After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Bobby joins them on Reggie’s other side, lowering himself gently onto the mattress and curling up so that Reggie feels his warmth without them actually touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Reggie gasps out, his tears starting to slow.

“I wish you’d do it more often.” Bobby gives him a tiny smile and slowly slides his hand into Reggie’s. “You can’t get rid of me, man. I got you.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #prompt fill #500 followers aaaah!!!#reggie peters #bobby shaw #bobby wilson #luke patterson #rebuke #peterpatter #lukebobby #boggie #angst #sickfic #hurt/comfort

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bennyboylewis · 3 years ago

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♬: What is the worst thing they’ve ever done?

(TW: physical/verbal/mentions of sexual abuse of minors, murder, alcoholism)

*smack*

"What did you think would happen? That you would call in an anonymous report, ruin my reputation in this town, and then the system would catch me and take you and that little slut away? You're a bigger fucking idiot than I thought. Did you think I didn't have friends? Did you think you were the only time one of you little fuckers tried this? Nobody believed them, and they would be way less likely to believe you, with your criminal record and history of running away from foster homes. Even if they did believe you and took you away, you would never see Darcy again. You two are never getting away from us. Don't give me that look, you little bitch. Think you're tough guy? No, you made a deal, remember? That's right boy, just keep taking it like the pussy you are, and I won't need to go find your whore sister to take it out on."

Ben's cheek burned as he glared up at the larger man. He was fourteen, and had never hated another person more than Aaron Rankin, the worst in a long line of terrible foster parents. Rankin was a sadist, and enjoyed taking it out on the people he had power over, especially the kids in the foster system he gained custody of. Ben had noticed the way he had looked at Darcy from the moment they arrived, and had never let her out of his sight, afraid of what Rankin might do to her. That was when the beatings started, and they escalated, but Ben never gave in, never let him touch her. But soon, it became too hard to just stay around Darcy all the time, so he made a deal. He would let Rankin do whatever he wanted to him, as long as Darcy was untouched and treated well. Mrs. Karen Rankin seemed to like her more anyway, giving her extra portions, hissing that Ben was worthless and stupid under her breath, ignoring him when he tried to show her his bruises and wounds that turned into scars, only insisting that he cover them whenever he was dressing, and if he refused, she would give him a slap of her own.

Ben couldn't risk running away and taking Darcy with him again, their social worker had been clear that this was the last time he would try to keep the two of them together if he did, so... he started to plan.

Karen had a shady "doctor" come once a week to give her botox injections, paid for with the money the couple got as foster parents, and Ben swiped a few vials. Then he waited for a day when she drank enough to pass out before 9 pm, and when Aaron yelled at Ben to bring him a drink before going in on him, the contents found their way into his whiskey.

By the next month, Aaron was dead, Karen was waiting to be tried for his murder and child abuse, because it was her botox, and she didn't have an alibi, plus Ben had a few "slips" of his clothing that covered his fading bruises in front of police,and Ben and Darcy were back in the system, but they were never getting sent back to that house.

About a month after that, Ben and Darcy met the Lewis’s for the first time.

#anonymous #ben's past #aaron rankin #tw: abuse #tw: murder #tw: child abuse

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oceanselevenism · 4 years ago

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If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

#oceans 11 #oceans 8 #danny ocean #debbie ocean #rusty ryan #danny x rusty #debbie x lou #lou miller #my writing

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cateringisalie · 4 years ago

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I wanna ask about bdii but I'm not sure if you're playing? plus I'm still in the middle of it lol. Sooo how about Aerith!

Good call! (though am playing BDII but I’m only about a hour or so into it)

OTP for them: A three way tie! Cloud/Aeris; Aeris/Tifa; Aeris/Tifa/Cloud; give me any of them and I will be so very happy.

BROTP for them: Aeris & Avalanche – any combination of them (including the ones above). Also weirdly Rude now I’m thinking about it (This might be Remake’s fault)

Other Ships: Barret/Aeris, Reeve/Aeris, Reno/Aeris, Aeris/Sephiroth, Aeris/Vincent, Aeris/Squall, Aeris/Cloud/Zack (but like the one instance in The Sky and the Dawn and the Sun), and – pretty sure this was your suggestion and probably half-joking but it has been rattling around my head ever since – Ringabel/Aeris (which to my knowledge has still not been done/I should probably try/BSecond made the mechanics of getting them into the same scene so much easier...). Oh, Aeris/Being Alive is good too – though comes with caveats *side-eyes Remake*

What kind of fic I’d write about them: What I am writing about them: The Aeris as a scavenger in her childhood fic is slowly inching towards a new draft; there’s the trio of Resident Evil/FFVII mash-ups which will feature her as a main character (in place of (seemingly confusingly) Claire, Jill and Sherry) which I have finally started. And some mid-canon smut. Because apparently I cannot help myself.

A favorite canon moment: Remake is Remake and I have expended too many words on the thing, but Chairith remains an absolute delight no matter what.

Color that reminds me of them: While pink might be too on the nose, it’s hard to shake the connection. That said! While typing I realised green is possibly as or more apt for her.

Song that reminds me of them: Bad Guy by Billie Eilish thanks to @effortlesslyuncool

A headcanon about them: She doesn’t like to be too hot and has always wanted to see snow for real – not knowing of course she used to live in the far North.

A random AU I think up on the spot for them: Aeris Gainsborough: Planeswarden facilitates the Other Ship ramble up there. How about; Aeris Gainsborough: Marine biologist; Ifalna got her and Aeris out of the city and as far as Costa del Sol – both have remained somehow undetected and Aeris spends her time exploring the corals and reefs around the resort area/fighting local governance about conservation. Somehow the rest of the cast run across her in a succession of other events that need more mapping to get around her absence earlier in the story.

And cut for length because I went off on this last question...

Anything else: I remain highly amused that both OG and Remake Aeris have been deemed troublesome or problematic or abusive or stalkerish or toxic or some other bad term and are in fact the true villain of FFVII/somehow only toxic in their associations with Cloud. Literally everyone else is FINE and she is perfectly lovely with them. But with Cloud she cannot help but be a horrible, horrible person who makes his life an unending hell.

For those unaware, their extensive list of crimes includes:

1) Asking Cloud to spend time with them instead of taking him straight to Sector 7 (and while the specifics are different between the versions, that this is something she (unspoken) insists upon while Cloud is apparently champing at the bit to get going and not spend time with Aeris.

This seemingly strips Cloud of the remotest shred of his own agency?

And is so very weird – not like Aeris is literally the only person who can navigate Midgar and I do not understand why Cloud cannot avail himself of some simple, pragmatic solutions like ditching or refusing to help Aeris at multiple opportunities (like in Remake when she literally leaves him outside Leaf House, or fleeing from Elmyra’s house when she’s upstairs in either version etc) and asking literally anyone else how to get to Sector 7 or using the layout of Midgar itself as a starting point for figuring out the route (he is in Sector 5. If he looks towards the centre of the city, Sector 4 is on his right, Sector 6 is on his left. If he keeps going left he will eventually come to Sector 7. Even if Cloud is somehow unaware of the city’s structure/layout he will be able to extrapolate by looking up from the slums at how the Upper plate looks/how the reactors are labelled. This is not difficult. Also Remake’s secretive way into Sector 7 doesn’t even come up until they reach the park/we see the gate is currently closed, so it’s not because he knows he needs her solely for this otherwise mysterious route/he can still hang around in the park until the gate opens for other through traffic if he’s desperate to get there. There is no actual urgency on getting back to Sector 7 as far as *he* knows – hence why he doesn’t actually hurry) or finding a map or using the station (which should then also circumvent the gate Cloud doesn’t know about) and so on and so on)

2) Not wanting to be left behind when Cloud tried to leave in the middle of the night (I mean, how dare she want to spend time with him/everyone is so weirdly adamant that she hasn’t, say, overheard Elmyra’s request to Cloud and thus KNOWS it’s not strictly his opinion to stop her going with him/he once again makes almost no effort to deter her when he runs into her. Oh and her not doing that will near definitely cause Marlene’s death to say nothing of most/all of Avalanche except Tifa)

3) Making Cloud leaving in the middle of the night without alerting her trivially more difficult (given that he can still leave without her hearing and bursting out of her room doesn’t really gel – if she was a mastermind, not sure Cloud should be able to avoid it on tip-toe really)

4) High-fiving him repeatedly (the monster. Not like she stops when he seems uncomfortable/he later makes the first move to high-five her so... I don’t get it).

5) *Might* know the whole plot in Remake and thus is culpable for every death in Sector Seven (which is... 1 or maybe 2 named people (there are those tragic sector 7 people without names or context we see die at the pillar admittedly) depending on how you count – and at least one of those (Biggs) is definitively alive come the Remake epilogue, so one named person (Jessie) who was blown up in a fight with Shinra. The villainy of Aeris! Oh sure you are told other people died, but sector 7 denizen’s major concerns seem to be the structures within the sector which doesn’t really indicate any other casualties actually occurred. Those not explicitly depicted would seem to be okay as no one mentions them either: you’d expect Johnny to bring up if his parents died (and like, maybe he doesn’t know, but he cannot have missed the plate-drop and his parents live in the sector and his relationship with them never seemed horrible so, surely he would care a little/react differently if they were dead))/Wedge to mention Jessie’s parents but neither happen). Oh and for Aeris to do the obvious intervention to fix terrible events would increasingly derail the plot even just in the first part, so, *maybe* she doesn’t know the whole plot (or else has some strange reason why she can’t interfere) and that conjecture is not accurate?

#auncyen #thanks #aerith gainsborough #final fantasy vii #asks

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ughgclden · 3 years ago

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some very late pairings for the lovely @izzyneedsabreak ,, thanks sm for the request i hope it makes you smile <33 this is going to get long, so let's go!!

for dead poets society, i'd pair you with...

(romantically)

you and charlie would just make so much sense to me as a couple in that you both seem to have chaotic vibes; charlie more so, obviously, but you work together well in that he manages to pull that chaos out of you. it's not uncommon for the two of you to be found talking animatedly to one another about something, perhaps plotting some sort of late night adventure, or one of his 'smart' ideas to rebel against the iron grip of hellton.

charlie can be quite soft with you though, often when it's just the two of you alone. he'll sneak you into his dorm at least once a week - he kicks cameron out and tells him to sleep on the floor of meeks and pitts' dorm, cameron isn't happy - and will let you lay against his chest as he plays with your hair and listens to you talk about your day. it's nice to see the quieter, more subdued side of charlie dalton, although the loud and obnoxious side is just as lovely.

supports you and your acting so much. you thought he was supportive of neil? it's ten times that. he sits front row for every show he can, bringing a bouquet of your favourite flowers to hand to you the moment you get off stage. before you can even get a word out, he's rattling off so many compliments and praises, genuinely so proud of you and your talent.

he would beg you to come to dead poets meetings and then show you off to the rest of the boys, even if they'd already met you ten times before. he'll endlessly praise you, shooting down any teasing that may come his way. he also definitely recites love poems to you dramatically, kneeling down and grabbing your hands as he tries not to break his serious act.

it's no secret that charlie loves hugs. loves them. he'll pull you into them whenever he can; either grabbing your hands and pulling you into his arms, or wrapping himself around you from behind, even just enveloping you in a hug and refusing to let go. he sways from side to side and hums under his breath.

makes playlists for you with his favourite songs that make him think of you. he pretends not to be flustered when he presents you with it.

you also become the muse of the occasional poems he attempts to write, claiming you can't tell the others or it'll ruin his reputation (it's obvious they're all about you anyways)

and

(platonically)

you and neil would obsess over musical theatre together, and would definitely go to each others' shows whenever possible. you're both constantly singing the soundtracks to your current favourite musicals, something both charlie and todd pretend to hate but actually think is quite entertaining to watch.

you both just get each other; when charlie introduces you to the poets you instantly click, getting along with each other really well (which leaves charlie feeling quite jealous, but shh). you're quite similar in terms of personality and balance each other out well - neil thinks he's found a great friend in you.

doing nothing with neil is a must. you'll spend time just talking about nothing to each other - you tell him stories about charlie, your other friends, your life, and he'll tell you stories in return. you both like sharing funny stories about charlie so that you can embarrass him later on.

neil confides in you quite a lot. not that he doesn't trust the other poets, but he likes that he can get an 'outside' perspective of someone who isn't one of the welton boys. he hopes you feel the same way about him.

writing to him over the summer to ensure he's doing okay, especially considering his situation with his parents.

constant teasing from him about yours and charlie's relationship - any chance this boy has to make a sly comment or quick remark, he's jumping at the chance. it's his favourite hobby at this point.

for the marauders, i'd pair you with...

(romantically)

you and moony are a match made in heaven. remus is absolutely smitten with you, and it's not hard to tell. the marauders are often quite a chaotic bunch and as much as he love them, he also adores the peace and tranquility your presence brings him. suddenly he feels like he doesn't have to go a hundred miles a minute and can take things one step at a time, enjoying the little things with you.

he'll usually read to you, picking your favourite books and letting the words fall from his lips softly as you both curl up together under a blanket late at night in the unusually empty common room, appreciating how cosy and full of love the situation feels. he takes breaks between lines to kiss the top of your head or temple before reading on.

remus appreciates you most after a full moon; you're always the one person he wants to see. you know exactly how to care for him, not making him feel incapable, but also being mindful of how tiring it can be and just allowing him to take time to feel like himself again. he likes that you're more than happy to patch him up, but you don't show him intense pity or guilt, just a desire to make him feel okay again.

this isn't to say your relationship is always soft and sappy, no. the amount of times you've been involved in their pranks and schemes is impressive at this point. they always end with remus grabbing your hand and dragging you along as you run down the corridors, avoiding whichever poor soul had the misfortune of being on the receiving end. muffled giggles are all that can be heard for long after you've found safety.

always wants to be your partner in lessons when possible. before the professor has even finished their sentence, he's locking eyes with you in a silent question. of course, you always want to work with him too. it's the perfect balance of getting shit done and having fun.

a lot of trips to hogsmeade. in the colder months, he'll wrap one of his scarfs around your neck and shove one of his hats onto your head, holding you close as you walk through the streets.

small forms of intimacy; thumbs stroking cheekbones, fingers threading through hair, soft smiles and whispered words. remus loves it all.

and

(platonically)

remus isn't at all surprised at how close you are with james, in fact he expected it from the moment you two met. you and james are good at keeping up with one another, always seemingly on each other's wavelength.

no matter your house, james insists you support gryffindor when a quidditch match is on. he doesn't want to hear any excuses. and if you aren't kitted out in face paint, holding a banner and cheering him on? he'll put on the most over-dramatic, disappointed display you've ever seen. he only stops once you beg for his forgiveness through rolled eyes, and he'll announce with a sigh that his heart will one day mend.

helping james out with his crush on lily is very common; this boy will come to you for advice on anything regarding her, because "you know how this works, you're in a relationship aren't you?" he's totally useless, as endearing as it is, and you and remus have to work together to come up with plans that won't end in embarrassment for your hopeless friend. and when they do get together? double dates of course!

gives amazing birthday and christmas presents. there's something you mentioned you wanted in passing? it's guaranteed james will be presenting it to you with a knowing grin. this boy is great at gift giving.

studying with him is actually quite productive; with you he manages to not get distracted, and you can both get your homework done amidst some friendly chatter and quiet music. he makes sure you take breaks often enough.

very protective. if anyone ever upsets you, whilst remus is comforting you it's guaranteed james will be 'taking care of it' for you. you're his best friend, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone hurt his best friend.

and for six of crows, i'd pair you with...

(romantically)

god nina would adore you. she thinks you're the most perfect person to walk the planet - it was love at first sight 100%. nina's quite a bubbly person, as are you, so there's never a dull moment or a lull in conversation; you always find something to be talking about, something to be doing.

this girl loves being near you, knowing you're close to her and with her. she'll often just take your hand in hers, or rest a head on your shoulder, just to remind herself that you're with her and she's the luckiest person.

she'd love to tell you stories about her heists with the crows just to see the look of wonder and excitement on your face as she recalled some of their greatest ideas, although he made an effort to ensure you never got caught up in their plans and ideas - she wanted to keep you safe, and she promised herself she would.

it doesn't matter how long you two have been together, nina flirts with you like she's still trying to win you over. every morning she'll wake you up with a flirtatious comment and often sends you winks and pick up lines throughout the day, even when it isn't the most appropriate of times.

a lot of bakery dates. nina has an extreme sweet tooth, so going out for hot drinks and waffles is a must in your relationship. she enjoys the calm it brings her.

sings to you quite often, despite the fact that her voice isn't quite the best you've ever heard. if it made you smile, she'd sing a thousand notes terribly off-key.

the worst morning person ever. if you want to wake up on time, it's best to set an alarm half an hour early to account for nina's constant pleas for 'five more minutes' as she pulls you back into her arms. and how could you say no?

and

(platonically)

i feel like i've been pairing you with a lot of big personalities throughout this, but i think you and jesper would be best friends instantly. from the moment jesper meets you, he takes you under his wing and refuses to leave your side. he latches onto you and even if you wanted, you couldn't get rid of him.

obviously, this is jesper, so outlandish adventures around ketterdam are a must despite the rare scoldings from kaz. it's nice to see how harmless much mischief you two can get up to, as jesper's witty personality means the night is full of hushed laughter and jokes. you're often the one who has to pull him away from his attempts at gambling away all of his money - you're the only one he'll listen to, and although he acts annoyed, deep down he's extremely grateful.

if you want to, he'd try to teach you how to use a gun and do the little tricks that he can. this isn't to say he wants you to join them on heists, of course not. but he feels a little safer knowing that, if necessary, you could protect yourself. nina is also thankful for this fact.

he loves to tease you and nina, which usually leads to a back and forth between them whilst you and wylan watch in amusement on the sidelines. it's always from a place of love, though.

calls you the most ridiculous nicknames, usually taken from an inside joke that happened two or more years ago. this boy doesn't let things go.

loves messing with you and teasing you, it's how he shows he cares and appreciates your friendship. he loves when you return this energy.

you're slightly quieter than he is, which he appreciates. he often feels like he can take a moment and calm down around you, making him not as impulsive. he thinks he's become a better person since the two of you became friends, often mentioning how you've rubbed off on him.

im hoping you enjoyed these bestie!! i rly hope i haven't somehow completely misinterpreted your personality through our chats,, but based on the vibes u give me this is what i'd have to say!!! :D

#again im so sorry these took so long ahh!!!#i luv my mutuals <3 yeah

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cosetterose90 · 4 years ago

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Good Enough

Part 2

Gabrielle went to the library in Willow Creek that afternoon. She only had a few hours until it would start getting dark, but those few hours would bring her relief from the stress of being at home.

As she approached the front doors, she was stopped by a man. "Excuse me?" he said in a foreign accent.

"Yes?" she asked, thinking he was going to ask for directions.

"Are you Gabrielle Lewis?"

"Yes..." Gabrielle was immediately skeptical.

The man looked relieved, and he held out his hand. "I am Krasimir Stoyanov. I just moved here."

"It's nice to meet you," she politely told him, shaking his hand. She quickly pulled her hand away. His was ice cold.

"I know this seems very random," Krasimir said, not acknowledging her action, "but I have a specific reason that I moved here. Do you have time to talk?"

Gabrielle thought about all the things she wanted to do in the library, but she was curious what this new acquaintance wanted to say. "Sure."

"I suppose I should just come right out and tell you this," Krasimir told her, nervously. "I am one of your relatives."

Gabrielle stared at him in shock, taking a moment to respond. "I've never even heard of you."

"Well, that's because I'm a distant relative." Gabrielle stepped back, even more skeptical now.

As she turned to walk into the library, the man suddenly said, "Wait! I have proof!"

She stopped, and he proceeded to show her a family tree that had both of their names on it, though his name was back several generations. "That's impossible!" Gabrielle gasped. You can't be that old...unless..."

Krasimir looked at her, solemnly.

"Unless you're a vampire," she finished.

He gave her a small nod.

Gabrielle had heard about vampires residing in Forgotten Hollow, but she had never seen one, none that she had known of, anyway. She really didn't know much about them except that they drank blood.

Sims' blood.

Even with this knowledge, the next thought that entered her mind was the one she ended up voicing. "You need to get inside or you'll die...I mean, again."

Krasimir seemed surprised at her concern. He chuckled, good-naturedly. "I am fine for now. We are in the shade."

"Please, let's go inside." "If it will ease your mind."

They went inside the library and sat across from each other at a chess table. Gabrielle looked confused. "Are you alright?" Krasimir asked.

"I'm just trying to process all this. You're my uncle from hundreds of years ago. Why didn't you show up sooner?"

"I had no need to until now. I just found out recently your parents passed away."

Gabrielle nodded, sadly. "8 months and 5 days ago."

"I am terribly sorry for your loss," he told her. "As your ancestor, it is my duty to help take care of you. Whatever you need, I will provide. I will help you financially, and you will want for nothing."

Gabrielle became uncomfortable. "That's nice of you, but it's unnecessary. I'm not going to take money from you just because we're related."

"You are taking nothing from me; I am offering," he insisted.

Apparently, Krasimir thought Gabrielle would immediately jump on the offer. Her refusal shocked him, greatly. "Unless you can change the past and keep my parents from dying, there's nothing you can possibly give me that I'd want," she told him.

Krasimir stood up and gave her a card. "This is my number. Please call if you change your mind." Then, he left the library.

Gabrielle got up and sat in front of a computer. She turned it on and practised writing. However, she had a hard time concentrating. It would take her awhile to fully process what had just happened.

#sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims #good enough part 2

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writhingcreature · 5 years ago

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Lovers ~ Ep. 1: Chapter 1

Summary: As senior year at Derry High begins, Bill Denbrough is faced with the anniversary of his brother's death. Meanwhile, the rest of the group has trouble letting go of the past

Episode Length: 8000+ words

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It was raining outside. You could hear the thick raindrops plopping against the window almost methodically. The sound was rhythmic and peaceful, the sound sinking into one's skin and loosening up their muscles. The sky was cloudy, but not so much that it blocked out the sun. Even when it rained the sun still shone on Derry. I guess only nighttime could truly conquer the blazing sun.

William Denbrough was making a boat. No one called him William and when they did it was usually a teacher or parent and he was in trouble, so to say he much preferred his nickname, Bill, was an understatement. Bill's fingers traced along the binding of a notebook as he carefully tore the page out, one hand gripping the end of the other side of the page as his other followed along the rip lines to make sure it was a clean tear. He began to carefully fold it, a frown on his face and his eyes centered on his work as he leaned in a little. Everything he did he liked to do well, but this was a boat and if Georgie was going to be able to float it, it had to be perfect. He didn't want the younger boy to come home crying because it had sunk.

George Denbrough was sitting in a corner. He had a very short attention span. Even after meaning to pay attention, he still ended up at the window, his finger tracing the fogged up glass to draw two dots and a curve underneath. A smiley face. George, like his brother, didn't hear that name too often- unless he was lost in a store or running too far away on a walk. People usually called him Georgie. Bill called him Georgie. He preferred that name, especially when it came from Bill.

Thinking of Bill, Georgie frowned. "You sure you won't get in trouble, Bill?" He asked his older brother, turning from the window to the boy he was speaking to.

Bill, sitting on his bed, paused in making the boat just for a second. "Don't be a w-wuss," he scolded. "I'd come with you if I weren't-" he cut off to cough twice. "Dying." Bill was still in his pajamas, comfy and warm. And he intended to stay that way.

"You're not dying!" Georgie insisted as he stood, a little irritated and a little worried. He didn't like the idea of Bill ever dying.

"You didn't see the v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?" Bill asked far too innocently, fighting a smile as he began the boat making again, finishing up.

"That's disgusting." You could hear the scrunch of his nose and the curl of his lip in the way he said the word, but Bill could also see those things on his face and both almost made him crack and begin laughing right there.

As Georgie began to approach the bed, Bill had just about finished. One last thing... "Okay, so get the wax."

Georgie shifted his weight to his other foot, his stomach suddenly filled with a funny feeling and his fingers feeling itchy. But not itchy like they needed a scratch- itchy like they needed to move. He just didn't know what to do with them. "In the cellar?" He asked, his disgust and joking gone and his voice a little quieter.

"You want it to f-f-fl... float, don't you?" Bill's stutter would truly be his downfall one of these days. He and everyone else were convinced of this.

"Fine," Georgie sighed, his eyes falling to the ground as he began moving around the bed and toward Bill's bedroom door. On his way out, he grabbed a walkie talkie as Bill wrote "SS Georgie" on the hull of the paper boat, finally finished and waiting for its wax coating.

The smile on the window fades finally, giving way to the rain outside and the warmth inside.

Georgie makes his way through the house, to the cellar door. He passes his mother on the piano, and feels a little comfort from the sick feeling in his stomach at the familiar, safe curve of her face. She has the same look Bill does when he's concentrated on something too. Usually hers only comes out for big tasks or things she wants to do perfectly, since she does almost everything out of habit or years of practice and therefore doesn't need to focus on them too much to do them well. Georgie is thankful for just a second for the family genetic, and then he has moved on and he can no longer see his mother and he takes a silent breath to try and loosen up his body, which has begun to get more tense the closer he gets to the cellar. He wonders why he feels like this. Maybe he's getting sick too...

The door is white, but when Georgie sees it it might as well be covered in blood. It couldn't scare him more if it was, he had already reached peak fear. Or, so it seemed at least. Suddenly the music his mother is playing sounds... haunting, above anything. He realizes the weird feeling must be fear, as it grows and begins to twist his insides into knots. He's silent as he stops just before he can see into the darkness below, staring at the door as he tried to decide if he wanted to gather his courage or just call it a day. But then he thinks about running back into Billy's room, shaken up and refusing to go into the cellar just because- because what? It was dark? No. Bill would tease him his entire life for this one incident, even if he never did it again. Georgie could already hear the, 'Whats the matter Guh-Georgie? Still afraid of monsters in the c-cellar?" Even in Georgie's mind, Bill stuttered as an adult Momentarily he wondered if Bill would ever get over it... and then that distraction helped him take a step. And another. And then again. Suddenly he was slowly but surely clunking his way down the steps of the shadowy cellar steps, his heart racing and his breathing audible now and his eyes fluttered everywhere, never settling anywhere as he tried to take every corner and fold in. Just in case. Georgie can't hear his mother on piano anymore. He pauses, unsure once again. How is he ever going to get to the wax if he takes this long?

As if the thought summoned him, the walkie-talkie goes off, causing Georgie to jump as it made the static sounds of connect before Bill snapped, "Hurry up," on the other end. It wasn't too harsh a command, but Georgie still felt himself curl away from the device he held. But perhaps that was the fear he felt mixing with the sudden unexpected noise and the terrible idea of angering Bill, rather than Bill actually being angry. Bill was rarely angry, if ever. Never around Georgie at least, unless Georgie really pushed his buttons. And when that happened there was no reason to be scared if Bill himself. Just... the thought of even just disappointing him... no. Georgie hated it.

Georgie noticed the room smelled a little strange. Almost sweet, like rotten fruit. He shook his head. His parents would worry about it if it needed worrying about. No reason to get jumpy.

Taking in a breath, he began to move again. Climbing down the stairs until he was all the way down, eyes scanning the shelves much more slowly and more purposefully now. Looking for something specific instead of scanning the unknown for something much worse than the bad feeling that cake after Bill got mad at him.

"Where's the box? Where's the box?" He whispered to himself, filling the silence and reminding himself why he was here.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he froze, eyes slowly rising to the wall in front of him as he finally found the box of wax, but completely forgot why he was looking for it. His mind was far too occupied with the sudden feeling that something terrible was about to happen. That something horrible was watching him. Crouched in the darkness. Not coming closer, but sitting further back, licking its lips and waiting for him to move towards the stairs before jumping out and devouring him. He turned around slowly, stiffly. Immediately his eyes caught two little pin points of what looked like light. Georgie's breathing grew faster. The little lights looked to be eyes. The creature he so feared was looking at him. Stalking him from the darkness. He could imagine hands opening and closing as they itched to reach for him. Shaking, his eyes flew to the side as he looked for- Ah! There it was!

He turned back to the little maybe-eyes as he flicked on the flashlight, revealing- light bulbs. Two little lightbulbs, probably reflecting light from upstairs. He had left the door open after all. Georgie found he could suddenly breathe again and he shook his head, trying to clear it. What a silly thing to get so worked up over. Thunder crashed, echoing, and Georgie was kicked into gear as he full on sprinted to the stairs and up them, never pausing to turn off the light or close the door as he booked it to Bill's room.

Thankfully Bill didn't point out the slightly shaky state of his little brother, who took comfort once again from his mother who he could once again hear in the piano, and the same older brother that might laugh at him for needing comfort at all.

Bill had moved to his desk, the boat on top. He motioned Georgie over and the younger boy came, handing over the can of wax. Bill immediately got to work with a thick paintbrush, not as focused as before. Much more relaxed. Georgie hovered a second before pressing his chest against Bill's back, resting his chin on Bill's shoulder. His brother's warmth and the movement of his body made him feel even better and in just a second he forgot his fear altogether.

"Alright," Bill finished, picking up the boat and handing it over to Georgie, a little smile of pride on his face at his finished work. "Sh-she-she's all ready, Captain."

"She?"

"You always call a b-buh-boat she," Bill explained.

Georgie smiled. "Thanks Billy." And then he opened his arms and hugged Bill. Bill hugged back without thinking, both of them smiling. After a second, Bill's hands shifted so his fingers pressed into Georgie's sides- they wiggled. Georgie giggles softly, squirming away as Bill chuckled along, smiled turning to grins and the room lighting up and warming with the interaction. "See you later!" Georgie called as he jogged through the room with the boat in one hand, his other reaching out to scoop up his rain coat as he passed by it. "Bye!" The small boy was out the door with excitement too soon, and Bill felt... odd. He had forgotten something. Something that was poking and prodding at him. He just had to do something. Something important.

It clicked in his head as he stood up quickly, moving to the window slowly, eyes scanning the rain mess for his younger brother. When he saw Georgie, the child waved enthusiastically, the grin still on his face. Bill wondered how Georgie couldn't feel the sudden nervousness he himself did. Perhaps he was just being weird. "Be careful," he spoke into the walkie-talkie anyway. The boy ignored him and Bill swallowed before quickly adding, "I love you." He didn't know why he did it. What possessed him to. It sounded like such a deeper goodbye, and the feeling of unease grew.

Georgie paused upon hearing his brother. He turned back to the house, raising his own walkie-talkie to reply, "I love you too Billy." And then all too soon once again, Georgie was out of sight and lost in the rain.

Bill turned away from the window, staring intently at his bed before shaking his head and then taking a deep breath, forcing a soft smile before it came more naturally, the bad feeling fading away. It would all be fine.

It was a sunny day, which seemed so very wrong. The sun rays filtered through the curtains that attempted to block it out, warming and brightening the room without permission. The warmth was suffocating, rising anxiety and making the still boy inside feel anxious to move, even though he couldn't quite get the energy to leave his spot on his bed. If only the sub would go away... but no. Even when it rained the sun still shone on Derry. I guess only nighttime could truly conquer the blazing sun.

William Denbrough was crying. No one called him William and when they did it was usually a teacher or parent and he was in trouble, so to say he much preferred his nickname, Bill, was an understatement. Tears traced trails already set in his face from ones that had fallen before. He was on his back, staring at his ceiling with messy hair, in his pajamas. He had only had the ability to kick his blankets off before his mind set and he realized what day it was, causing him to fall into the nearly comatose state he was in now. There was a voice in his head, from a boy he knew what seemed forever ago now. Five years. A smile he missed. A laugh he so wanted to hear. A hug he desperately needed. Things he would never get again from the boy that was long gone from his life.

His door opened slowly, quietly. A flare of red enters the dark room and there stand Beverly Marsh, tall and grinning. She moves to the curtains first, allowing Stanley Uris into the room as well. Stan - this is our Mr. Uris, who, like Bill, goes more often by that name than his full one that's been reserved most often for moments of scolding or professional settings - was smiling just as Beverly was, but the one he wore was much more strained. Forced. As the sun was allowed to come in more, Bill thought to himself that it was Beverly's smile that really light up the room. Not the annoying sun he wanted to disappear on a day the whole world should be mourning.

Beverly moves to his bed, a hand moving to her hip. "Oh come on, Bill, you have school today. No sitting in bed all day." She looked at Stan who was on the other side of the bed. The interaction seemed almost scripted, the positions familiar and broken in. They'd done this exact thing - or something very similar - quite a few times it seemed.

As if Bev's look was a cue, Stan moved forward. "Mike brought one of his warmest sweaters today. It's blue so it'll go really well with your eyes." His smile was a little more natural. Small and soft and warm.

Stan and Bev both moved to either sides of the bed, offering Bill a hand to help him sit up. Bill sighed before taking them, allowing them to pull him to his feet. Bev pulled out a well work t-shirt from Bill's closet, setting it on his bed. Stan set Mike's pullover he'd had tied around his waist until now next to the shirt. He got a pair of shorts and set it on the other side of the jacket. "We'll be in again in a bit." Bev left a little kiss on Bill's cheek and then both of his friends left the room. He was alone.

Bill stared at the clothes laid out for him. He felt small and stupid, requiring this from his friends. He also felt lucky that they were so obliging to do it every year. Usually he was fine, but when this day hit it was impossible to cope. It helped that his parents always went on a vacation or trip without him to distract from the pain they felt. He was allowed to be alone and didn't have to waste energy conjuring up a happiness for their sake. Plus, his friends could just walk in and take care of him without his parents getting on his case about it.

Legging loose another sigh, Bill began to change out of his pajamas and into the outfit left for him. The shirt was familiar and soft. The jacket was a little big on him and it felt like a hug. A little heavier than his own sweaters, and long enough to hide his hands if he pulled his arms in. The outfit was perfect. Comfortable and warm and soft and familiar and a representation of everything he was lucky to have. Friends that had his back. A found family that understood and cared about him, even if no one else did.

He left his room to see Stan and Bev chatting about a book outside of his room. The conversation died as Bev's eyes moved to Bill as he approached them. Her smile was almost as soothing as the sweater and when she put her arm around his shoulders, he couldn't help but relax a little.

The house smelled amazing. The trio moved to the kitchen where Ben and Mike we're making breakfast. Eddie and Richie were bickering about which ice cream flavor was best, getting heated about how Strawberry wasn't anything compared to Chocolate and how Vanilla was a waste of time and Rocky Road was absolutely amazing but not quite as good as dick-

"Beep beep Richie," Bev and Ben said at the same time. They looked at each other, both wearing amused smiles. She winked at him and he was suddenly very interested in breakfast again.

"Stanley the Manley!" Richie cheered. "Tell the Spaghetti boy that vanilla ice cream is NOT a waste of time and that the sweet simplicity let's you add anything you want and that he's just jealous because he could never produce such a sweet necture himself."

"Gross," Eddie groaned.

Stan seemed to consider for a second. "Are we completely ruling out cookie dough ice cream?"

Bill moved further into the room, taking a seat at the table. "Breakfast will be done soon," Ben said as he joined, leaving Mike to finish the rest. Eddie and Bev sat down too. It seemed that Stan had taken Eddie's place in the argument, and it was goikg a lot more insistently now. Before it had been obvious that Richie and Eddie were bickering to fill the silence, but now it almost seemed that Stan and Richie were just going back and forth simply because that's what they always did. They got into dump arguments that lasted hours because Richie had the kind of connections in his brain that took forever to explain, but totally lined up once he did; Stan was just very straightforward and good at debating. Richie was simply stubborn and set in convincing Stan, and Stan was just as stubborn on not being convinced. They finally realized everyone's migration pattern when Mike announced that the food was done and began to move things to the table with Eddie's help. Everyone sat down - Stan and Richie, across from each other, still adding little comments and new thoughts about ice cream flavors they'd forgotten or new points to consider - and began eating.

It was hard to breathe around the food and through the thick atmosphere. The sun shone through the curtains as Bill stared at the sausage and hash browns and eggs and pancakes that all looked and smelled so good. The meal that he otherwise would have inhaled was now scraping against his mouth like sandpaper. He couldn't appreciate it so he ended up just staring at it, wishing he could enjoy it. Wishing he could enjoy anything. Next to him, Ben leaned closer so their shoulders were touching. He pretended he wasn't doing it on purpose, but he wasn't lowkey enough.

Bill's love language was physical touch. Hugs and hand holding and clothes that were comfortable were what comforted him. This show from Ben was a way of comforting without bringing attention to Bill's emotions and thoughts- even if it wasn't necessary since everyone at the table noticed. It was just something none of them ever said out loud. Not today.

At some point Stan and Richie's argument turned to a new topic, and Mike mentioned something about a new book he was reading and Ben picked up the conversation so the two went back and forth. As with the earlier attempts, it was lacking the usual gusto and felt a little awkward and strained. Any silence was suffocating and every pause seemed to stretch eternities. Bev, across from Bill, leaned closer and began to tell him about a bunch of random things. Gossip. The latest fashion and how she didn't like the turn it was taking for some people. New designs she had in mind. Some pieces she wanted to work on. A little while back Bev had picked up a hobby of taking her old clothes and clothes from thrift stores and making them better. More her current style, or "cuter" or more in fashion. Then she'd give it to someone or wear it, changing it again if needed. She was really good at it and it gave her a lot to talk about.

Sometimes Bill thought Bev would be better as an actress than a seamstress. As good as she was with clothes, she was still eternally better when it came to pretending nothing was wrong. While everyone else struggled and Bill didn't even try, her words were easy and her smile was bright and her posture was relaxed. She was casual and made everything seem a little better- just like always. Nothing changed on this day when it came to Bev. It amazed him. Maybe it was that she'd never met Georgie... but neither had Mike or Ben, and they felt the tension too. How did she do it?

Practice.

Now that was a thought he REALLY didn't want to think about.

Her warmth and ease was contagious. As they cleaned up after breakfast and got on their bikes to head to school, there was a sudden relaxation that wasn't there before. Richie rattled off jokes and comments and jabs as usual, and Bev laughed at every single one. She egged him on and cheered everyone up at the same time. She made the sun bearable and the air easier to breathe with her laughter. She pulled smiles from each of them, and for the first time ever no one told Richie to shut up or rolled their eyes or shot comebacks at him or threw a "beep beep" in his direction. They all just smiled and laughed and enjoyed his voice that never left room for the silence that allowed too much time to think and remember. Remember dark tunnels that had a burning, terrible smell that sunk into their skins and never left their clothes. Remember a small boy with a bright smile and messy hair and the best intentions. Remember red hair and glowing yellow eyes, and rows and rows of razor sharp teeth ready to slice into them if they let their guard down for even a single second...

When they got to school, it was business as usual. Locking up their bikes and heading inside. Bill noticed randomly and suddenly that they all held their backpacks differently. Eddie had both hands on the straps of his backpack, while Richie had only one strap on his shoulder. Like Eddie, Stan had both straps on his shoulders but held only one of them in his hand. Bev had a shoulder bag that her hand loosely kept hold of, while Ben wore both of his two straps like Eddie and Stan while he left his hands dangling by his sides. Mike, who wasn't quite used to school yet even though he'd been going to public school for a little while now, had his bag by the loop on the top as he left it slung over his shoulder. He had a strapless bag and hated to keep it at his side because the students around them too often kicked it out of his hands. Bill himself wore only one strap of his backpack like Stan, but kept his hands by his sides like Ben. These similarities and overlapping details somehow eased Bill. He was one to notice small things like this when he was anxious. Perhaps it was his mind that did it. The same mind that wrote stories with the kind of details that painted out a scene in a reader's mind. The same mind that could recollect and recreate images on paper that seemed so realistic only because it had depth and character- hairs out of place, a car going by, a sign in a shop window- and on and so forth.

"Bill?" The boy's head snapped over to Stan, who was looking at him expectantly.

Feeling sheepish, Bill rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, what was that?" He hadn't been paying attention.

Unsure of what exactly had been on Bill's mind, Stan tried not to let his worry show. Sometimes when Bill got too quiet and spaced out too much, his mind went to dangerous places. Especially on days like today. "I was just asking when the last time you got a new jacket was. This one has a hole, and cold season is just around the corner." It was never REALLY cold in Derry, but Stan's sentiment was always there and well meaning.

Bill thought a second, trying to recall when he'd gotten his current jacket, which indeed had a hole and was getting quite worn down. "I think- two Christmases ago?"

Stan glared. "You have to get a new jacket. Immediately. Honestly, what would you do if I wasn't here to remind you?"

This made Bill's heart drop into his stomach and for a second, he remembered.

"Bill!" It was a whiny call and that was probably the biggest reason the older Denbrough even acknowledged it. "It's so late, Billy, why are you still awake?" The boy standing in the doorway was bleary eyed and had messy hair- he had obviously been a sleep until something had woken him up and carried him into the doorway he was in now. Perhaps it was the light from Bill's room.

"I know what time it is-"

"It's midnight."

That surprised Bill. His irritation vanished as his eyes flickered to his clock, which was too far away to catch his eyes unless he looked over at it, like now. That's probably how so much time had passed since he'd last looked at it. It was indeed far too late for him to be awake. He had gotten so caught up in the current art project he was doing that he'd lost track of time. He softened, looking back at his brother. "Thanks, Georgie. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Yeah." The word came out a croak, his throat and mouth suddenly far too dry. "I'd loose my head." He forced a smile but it was too tight. Strained and awkward.

Stan felt sick. Bill had remembered. He had remembered something. Something that had hit him hard and upset him deeply. He only made that expression when he had remembered. "Uh, yeah." Stan blinked, trying to get his mind in order.

"What kind of jacket will you get?" Eddie jumped in helpfully, trying to cover up Stan's blunder and continue distracting Bill.

Bill cocked his head. "There are more than one kind?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd ask that question. Of COURSE there are! There are different designs and patterns and colors. Come on."

There was a second that Bill considered this. "I don't know which one I'll get. It'l depend on where I go and what's there."

"Get a brown one," Mike chimed in. "The dirtiness doesn't show as much and you don't have to wash it as often. Then it'll last longer." Eddie and Stan both stared at him like he'd just had a ginormous bug crawl out of his mouth. "What?" He asked, unsure what he'd said wrong.

"Or get a blue one!" Bev piped up, not allowing Stan and Eddie to reply to Mike and divert attention from the positive thoughts and feelings. "It'll go with your eyes and make them pop out more. It'll be a great look for you!"

"I mean you guys are only thing one color here," Richie added next, his hands moving to enunciate how into this he was getting. "Get one with ALL the colors." He wore a shit eating, excited grin that almost got Bill to smile.

Shaking his head, Bill rose an eyebrow as he said, "I think the spot for dressing like a clown is already taken by you, Trashmouth."

Richie's smile wiped off his face. Stan jumped in to snag Bill's attention away so he wouldn't be able to think about what he'd just said. "I like Bev's idea with the blue. I think if you went yellow it would work really well for your hair, since you have some blonde highlights. Or maybe a blue and brown. A combination of colors might actually work."

"I have to go," Richie suddenly choked out, his tone suddenly dead and dark and his eyes a little spaced out. "I- I have to get to class."

Bill went to ask what was wrong - because when Richie was upset, it rarely showed, so to have such a drastic change in character was startling - but Eddie spoke up first. "You're right. It's almost time. Let's go." The two boys had first period together so they headed toward it together as well. It was a relief to Richie, who didn't want to be alone as something he'd tried so hard to forget replayed over and over in his head.

A yellow rain jacket clutched in Bill's hands. The same coat moments before on a small boy. A boy that was so different than Richie remembered. A coat that Richie had seen Georgie Denbrough wear and treasure for nearly three years now. It was a hand-me-down from Bill, who'd never worn it but had meant to. He'd just had a growth spurt before he could use it. Before that though, Bill refused to let him touch it. He said it was special from mom and dad, and he didn't want Georgie to mess it up- not even on accident. Bill had complained for weeks after it had been too small and Georgie had gotten it, but Georgie secretly told Richie that he loved it. It was a little too big when he first got it, and that's why he had it so long. Georgie thought the jacket precious.

"It has to be special if Bill was so upset when I would touch it," Georgie explained one day, with that same bright smile and eyes full of light and life and excitement and pride.

That same boy, in the dark room with the floating bodies and the large piles of trash and the terrible smell, wore the yellow jacket that until now hadn't gotten a single speck of dirt on it that Georgie wouldn't furiously clean off. Except the bright yellow was dim and faded and crusted with muck and mud and grossness that made Richie sick. He had wondered at the time how Eddie and Stan were handling the dirtiness, when even a speck of dust usually bothered them.

Georgie, with a tarnished jacket, for the first time ever, didn't smile. His eyes were blank and lifeless. And just a few moments later, Bill would plant a nail between his eyes and the Georgie that so wasn't Georgie wold become taller. His limbs would grow longer. He would become... would become...

Eddie's hand was solid on Richie's shoulder. "Rich?" His gaze focused on Eddie's brown eyes that he found himself let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Eddie. Eddie was here, clean and pristine. The only blemish was the frown that curled his lips the wrong way and the deep concern in his gaze.

"Sorry." Richie cleared his throat and shook his head to clear it. "I was just-"

"Remembering?" It was a grim silence as they both took a break from the forced emotions they had to keep up around Bill. It was Bev and Stan's plan in the beginning, but once they'd done it the first two years it had sort of become unspoken law and now they all did it without thinking about it. Expressing how horrible this day made them all feel was rude to Bill, who had been hurt by all of it the most, arguably. Richie nodded without speaking. "I do it too." Eddie took a breath, mirroring Richie's head shake to push away his own dark thoughts. "This morning, on my way out, I was making lunch and accidentally cut my finger." He held up his ring finger on his right hand, which had a bandaid on it. In the rush and focus that today demanded each year, Richie had missed it before now. "It was small, but bled a little. I was already thinking about today. Preparing. So it was only too easy to think about... about the bathroom. Remember?"

Richie sighed. He remembered it only too well. His brain raced to try and come up with a joke to relieve the tension or bring a smile to Eddie's face again, but for the first time in years, nothing came to mind. "Come on Eds, we really do have class."

"Don't call me that," Eddie spat halfheartedly, his face scrunching up. Richie managed a smile, which then pulled one from Eddie just like Richie's smiles always did.

As they went to class, Eddie tried not to let his face show that he was far too clearly seeing the red room coated in blood that he'd tried so hard not to allow his brain to conjur up this morning when it had all happened. He mostly succeeded, but couldn't get the memory of his friends' faces as they scrubbed and cleaned and tried not t think about what they were scrubbing and cleaning. He tried not to remember how the blood was warm and how it stained the bottom of his shoes and stuck under his nails and how it made him dizzy when he first saw it. How sure he'd been that he was about to pass out.

The bell rang and class started, giving Eddie a diversion. Eddie usually dreaded the sound of that damn bell - especially when it meant that the long day of sitting still and biting his tongue as student and teachers alike annoyed his will to live right out of him. Today, though, he was more relieved to hear it than he was when he washed his clothes and put on a warm, clean shirt that smelled of detergent and warmed his skin and made everything better somehow. Which, honestly, was saying something major.

Mike rubbed his face with both of his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. "I just can't do this," he complained softly to Ben, who was sitting next to him and patting his back in an attempt at easing a burden they all carried. A burden that was dragging them all under and drowning them. How could he help Mike with his weight if Ben couldn't even take care of his own? He couldn't. That wouldn't stop him from trying though. "Pretend that nothing happen everyday, and then go on like THIS everyday time this year. This day is hell for all of us. And I understand why its hardest for Bill, but Georgie's death is a constant reminder of what happened and I just can't stand the holding my breath and walking on eggshells and never letting my guard down all day for a whole day, like-" He cut off, shaking his head.

"You're honest," Ben offered softly. "It makes it hard to look at Bill - one of your closest friends - and lie. I get it."

A heavy sigh came out of the teenage boy. There was a pause, and when Mike next spoke, his tone was dark and heavy and it made Ben stop cold. "What do you most remember about it?"

Frowning, Ben's hand dropped into his lap as he tried not to indulge Mike too much. He had to watch out for his own mental health too. However, the second Mike asked the question, Ben knew the answer. "Red." At first he thought the word hadn't made it out of his mouth all the way, but then he felt the shudder go through his body as the sound of his own voice hit his ears, and he knew he'd done it. "The way It turned into Bill's mom. And the balloon. And, uh, Beverly's hair." He coughed and Mike chuckled dryly, too anxious to laugh but too amused not to acknowledge the blush that never failed to peek out when Ben mentioned the redhead. "I just remember so much red that summer. And then the bloody bathroom..." He shuddered and when his eyes opened again, he saw something else other than the green grass- just for a second.

She was standing there. Her smile was wide as it seemed to make the warm a little more, as per usual. A little more bright. A little more warm. A little MORE- in general. Better and more fulfilling. He saw the light reflecting off of her fiery head as she tilted it back in laughter. Her gorgeous eyes that focused on Bill Denbrough instead of him. She was standing there with that smile and those eyes and her short, wonderfully messy hair looking at someone else.

And suddenly she turned and her eyes found him, but that wasn't part of the memory while he cleaned the bathroom, witnessing a scene he wasn't supposed to be near enough to know was happening. Suddenly it wasn't Bev and Bill, and the hair was a different kind of red. The skin was far too pale and the smile was cruel and twisted. And the eyes... they weren't soft and green and full of life. They were blue. Dead and empty like a sky on a blank day. A day without clouds or birds or any sign of life. A weirdly beautiful blue, that should have been calming but was anything but. Not like Bill's blue eyes. It's blue eyes. Blue eyes that were replaced with glowing yellow lights that stared into his soul as the Thing blinked.

"Ben!" Suddenly his vision was blocked as a slight pressure lay over his eyes. He was somewhat in the present, half consumed by darkness and hot breath and half sitting in a warm day with a slight breeze, one of his closest friends blocking his vision because calling his name hadn't worked well enough. As he came to, it was slowly and with struggle, like he was moving through honey rather than his own mind. He became aware of things slowly. His fast, shallow breathing. His hair that had been pushed out of the way as Mike covered his eyes. His racing heart that was still loud in his ears. His shaking hands. His trembling lip. When he was more calm, Mike stepped away and all Ben could see was a caring, concerned expression and a cloudy but bright sky and green trees and grass and bushes and then the streets and the school. "Are you okay?" Mike flinched as he asked the question.

"Fine." His voice betrayed him. Even in just the one word, it was obvious that he was emotional and upset. He sounded almost winded, and he wondered if he was about to have an anxiety attack or if he'd already had one while he was too stuck in his head to notice. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help, Mike."

Mike shook his head. "We all need help."

"Where would we get it from?" Ben asked after he caught his bearings and got a full grip on himself.

The care on Mike's face deflated in resignation. "That's the thing, isn't it? We can't get it from anywhere." Never had a more hopeless thing been said or heard. The two boys sat in heavy silence. The two boys who were usually soft and bright and warm now sat under a storm cloud that blocked out the sun and any warmth and drenched them in a torrent of emotions that ripped them apart viciously and mercilessly from the inside out. There wasn't a single hint of a smile between them.

When school ended, it was a relief.

The Losers all gathered up, most of them beat down and failing to do their job. Usually once they hit the end of the school day, only two Losers remained standing. An awkward but willing Stanley Uris and a bright, chipper, forever unfazed Beverly Marsh. The others branched off early, touching Bill in some way of comfort before leaving. Eddie elbowed him gently to catch his attention before waving goodbye. Richie ruffled his hair, shoving his head a little to get him to laugh. It almost worked. Ben reached out and tugged on his hand to get his attention before heading his own way far earlier than he'd turn from the group usually. Mike pat Bill on the shoulder before saying he had to head home to help his grandpa with the sheep. And then Mike's face went dark and his eyes glazed over for a second and it was as if Bill and Mike were both seeing the staple gun pointed at a boy that was too small and standing despite fully missing an arm and having been assumed dead. Then Bev was catching his attention and Mike seemed to be running a marathon, in the way he got on his bike and began racing for home like his life depended on it.

Stan and Beverly kept his mind busy all day. The three of them had dinner, with Stan cooking and Bev talking Bill's ear off. Then Bev got him into pajamas and they both lay in bed with him for a little while, until he fell asleep. Bev got up far sooner than Stan did. Stanley lay next to Bill as Bev got dinner cleaned up and everything ready to go. His hand found its way to Bill's nose, brushing the back of it against the bridge of Bill's nose to help him fall asleep more deeply. When they left, they kept up their energy. They were much more at ease now, fed and having fallen into a pattern after the others left. The two had an easy friendship, bonding deeply and closely over experiencing something the others hadn't had the horror of yet.

Because when Beverly and Stanley thought of It, they didn't think of colors or details or smells or small boys- even though Stan knew Georgie. They both thought of one thing and one thing only. Bright lights and a hazy thickness that blocked their vision and clouded their mind, shoving blurry and nonsensical scenes that were supposed to be the future. Scenes that were far too clear for comfort, and yet still were so broken and scattered that they rarely ever made sense. And when they did, they both wished it didn't.

So they didn't think about it all day. They were so good at keeping Bill busy, because they had practice keeping themselves and each other busy. Not just one day a year but every day all day every week of every month- all year long. Usually they handled it perfectly fine, focusing on what was currently happening and not what would or had happened. Focused on this stupid town and their amazing friends and school - even though it was sometimes the worst - and homework and swimming in the Quarry and a Summer full of games and laughter and chasing each other and dunking each other under the water and staying up too late and waking up too early and bird watching and telling jokes and secrets and rolling their eyes and judging people together and even judging each other... less together.

Because when they did focus on It... When they looked back and remembered, it wasn't a memory or a panic attack. It didn't knock the breath out fo them or leave them breathless or weakened or scared or shaky or emotionally vulnerable.

No that would be too kind. When they did think about what happened, it was only at one of their houses and at the end of the day, after the two of them were completely alone and they were having a secret sleepover the others didn't know about. It was only when Stan's parents were asleep and they'd pretend to go to bed. And then like clockwork, without even looking at the clock, midnight would hit and the day would be over and their unspoken vow to keep it together all day for their friends and family would crumble and simultaneously, the unbreakable Beverly and sturdy Stan would shatter and crack and explode. They would sob, shaking violently and clinging to each other. They would gasp and close their eyes tight. They wouldn't just cry- they would completely loose it. Thankfully they were both quiet criers, but that didn't change the violence of their mutual shut down. They would let all their barriers down and let loose all the emotions they'd been holding in all day. All year. And suddenly they weren't two kids who had been through a similar experience. They were one person, agonizing over a same pain only they could understand. And for a night, that was okay. It could just be the two of them and no one else and they could feel this pain.

How else were they supposed to deal with the memory of the Deadlights when none of their friends could handle their own trauma, let alone Stan and Bev's horrors?

No.

Bill sat awake and listened to the silence in a house that pretended like Georgie never existed, his parents on vacation because they refused to be in town or anywhere near anything that reminded them of the son they never stopped grieving- including the son they still had.

Mike fell asleep but woke often to nightmares after having to use the nail gun again- just as he'd dreaded. The action alone dug up so many memories that between those and the whole day combined, he couldn't handle it... Sleep was still important, though. They had school tomorrow after all.

Eddie spent the night half asleep. Sort of conscious and aware; drifting in and out; sort of noticing the world and sort of resting. His dreams were all foggy and empty and he was unable to collect a coherent thought or make sense of the blobs and nothings that every once in a while popped out at him when he was a little more sleep than awake.

Ben slept like a rock, still and locked down to the bed despite the occasional twitch. So very unlike how he actually slept, where he was usually pulling blankets and pillows close to his chest and burying his face in something soft or warm or familiar, now he lay still, on his back, with nothing near or even touching him. At least he slept.

Richie didn't even bother getting into bed. He sat on his window sill, his window open and his legs hanging out to dangle against the side of his house. He leaned against his banister and watched the stars and moon and hummed random, terrible sounding tunes under his breath and let the stress of the day melt away.

Bev and Stan held each other and cried until they passed out. Bev was out first, Stan using the same trick on her that he did on Bill. Gently caressing the bridge of the nose always worked. No matter how old the person was or how often they had it done to them, it always worked. He fell asleep with a heavy heart and an enthusiasm for what the next day would bring.

It was fine. It was all fine...

It had to be.

Tag List: @kaspbrak-king @feelinsorad @yeahnorightsure @reddie-steddie-go @slyyytherin @richietoaster @toziersspaghettihead @disgustedchild @johnmulaneyslovebot @fawndestmemories @smeegamae @cheekaspbrak @chipoisaloser @epicpenguin145 @reddie-to-cry @eddiesaspirator @richiebeepbeep @beepbeepwheeler @fem-mark-cohen @that-weird-girls-blog @spoonful-of-poison @mxyfields @fics-causeineedit @cringy-kid-online-sorry @elfdemeanor

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kileyrose-2003 · 5 years ago

Text

Rose the Hat x Fem! Reader

Hello lovelies! This imagine was requested by @merci-bitch I still love that username, lol. I hope you enjoy! Sorry it took me a while to publish. I was getting stuff ready for Christmas all day today.

Warnings: Violence, implied child abuse, implied domestic violence, mentions of child death, mentions of sexism.

For someone with such a beautiful face, you did not have such a beautiful past. You were a freak. Or at least that's what you thought.

You were born into a wealthy family and your parents wanted a little boy, not a girl. They were automatically biased about you from the start.

You were a beautiful baby and so happy. You loved everyone, even strangers. Your aunts and uncles would hold you close when they came to visit telling your parents how lucky they were or how special you were. You were an only child after all. They would just shrug. "It's a child. Nothing that special about her."

Over time though they realized just how special you were. You weren't like other children. You seen things and did things other children didn't do.

You could advise someone to go to the doctor because somehow you knew they were sick and could tell people little tidbits about their past or future.

Guest and other relatives marvelled over it, remarking on how cool they thought it was. Your parents didn't like it though. In their small minds, little girls weren't supposed to do things like that.

You did everything they asked but it was never good enough. You got good grade, got accepted into Honor Society, virtually any achievement anyone could think of. Your parents didn't care though.

Years of rejection hurt and once you hit your early teens you began to react like any normal teenager would. You cried everyday when you came over the smallest things and crying eventually turned to rebelling.

You'd go out for nights on end and not come. Your shine grew stronger and your parents could take you no more.

They sent you away to an inpatient mental health facility. You begged and begged not to go. You weren't crazy. You didn't ask to have this weird sonar in your head. You wanted to be normal. They refused though stating "You were to dangerous to others and yourself."

Those two years you spent locked away were the hardest years you ever knew. You were constantly doped out on all the medications they gave you and your shine became slightly surpressed.

Even though supression occurred though, dark things became attached to you. Demons and ghost would come to you in the night and you could take no more.

On a dark, summer night you took the first pair of clothes and purse you could find and ran off. You felt relieved but couldn't help but feeling distressed.

You had money and enough debit cards to get you anywhere you wanted at this point but eventually someone would notice their purse was missing and money was gone.

As soon as you got out of the bus, you turned to escorting wealthy men for money. The pay was good but some of the men were terrible.

More often than not, you'd wake up in an unfamiliar hotel room and no memory of how you got there. Days of the week blended in together and one drink eventually turned to the whole bottle. It was one of the very rare days you didn't have and you were currently at your favorite movie theater, nestled into your seat zoning off to the music in the vintage film. Your thirst for liquor was off that day and you just felt like doing something different.

The theater was mostly empty besides a few people and a couple sitting in the way back together.

"I don't see what you're fussing about." Rose mused, laying her head on Crow Daddy's shoulder. She wasn't enthused by any of this. Normally she'd enjoy a night out at the cinema with her Crow but the popcorn was bland and the teenagers sloppily kissing on the big screen were not the best entertainment.

"She's steamy. Just look at her." Crow gestured his hand towards you. "I'll agree, big steam but she has no particular talent. She's just steamy."

"You don't think she'd be good to turn?" Rose held a piece of popcorn up to his lips. "If the situation was different, then yes. For right now though, no. We need to eat more than we need steam. How old do you think she is anyways?"

Crow pushed her hand away. "Nineteen or twenty tops. If we train her though, she'd have so much talent. Plus she's kinda cute." Rose furrowed her brows. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"You heard." He shrugged, desperately trying to get a rise out of her. Rose glared at him out of the corners of her eyes, a slight pang of jealousy ran through her. "Spunky tonight, aren't we?"

"Guess you could call it that." Rose grinned tightly. "Not feeling the hunger yet from a few months ago?"

"Nope." He popped his 'p'

'Of course you're not. Because you want to be stubborn.' Rose shifted in her seat.

"We're not turning her. We just turned Andi a few months ago. You know how it is. You don't turn more than one in a short period of time. You don't want to make the baby jealous."

"If I may say so Rosie, Andi doesn't seem like she has a care in the slightest about anything." Crow's tone remained soft but he retained serious composure in his face.

Rose smiled sickly sweet. "I didn't ask for your opinion but that's fine, honeybunch." She leaned upwards, trailing kisses all over his collar bone. "You remember the last time we ate?"

"Six months ago..Rhode Island." He grunted, trying his hardest not to give in. "Remember how nice it felt? How good the sex was?" She nipped the sensitive part of his neck. "We can have that again very soon if we have her."

Crow's eyes rolled into the back, running his hands up and down her sides. "Do you have a plan on how you want to trap her?"

"We don't have to do anything. Matter of fact, I think we have the perfect opportunity..now." Your phone began to ring in your pocket and you walked up the aisle to step outside and answer it.

Crow took Rose's soft hand is his rough, lightly scarred one. A reminiscent of the physically grueling years of his youth. "Let's do this then."

Meanwhile you stood outside in the rain, your phone pressed up against your ear. "No..I'm not leaving. Because, it's my day off..and I said no! Look, I'm at a movie theater, I'll call you back. Bye."

You hung up the phone and shook your head, walking to your car but something felt off. You felt like someone was watching you. "Excuse me, Miss." Hesitantly, you turned around. Trusting the bright and cheerful smile despite that uneasy feeling in your stomach. "You left your purse in theater." He held up what you thought was your hand bag.

"Oh my gosh. Thank you so much." You approached Crow. "I was wondering where I put it." You went to take the bag in your hand but it was no longer there.

"What the fuck?" A hand grabbed your arm and you tensed. You spun in the opposite direction and was greeted by Rose.

"Well hi there, dollface." You paused and turned your gaze to the woman across from you. Her grey eyes hypnotized you as they locked with Y/c/e orbs. She was the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen, on the outside at least. Something wasn't right on the inside though. You didn't have to use your shine to know that. You had to get away from her.

"You want to let me go." The older woman looked amused and let out a hardy laugh. "Oh no, dearest..no, I don't."

"Yes, you do." Rose insisted. You struggled against her as you felt a set of arms wrap around your torso. "Stop it." You squirmed.

"It's alright honey. Just relax. It'll only be a little pinch." You shook your head and Rose held your shoulders tightly. "You are a special little thing, aren't you?"

Her eyes flicked blue and you gasped as the needle punctured your skin. It stung like a bee and you flinched. The further Crow pushed down on the needle the colder and limper you began to feel.

"How much more?" Rose eyed you closely. "Maybe a milliliter more." She smiled at you and gently caressed your cheeks. "You're going to meet some fun people, sweetcheeks. For right now though, I want you to sleep."

"I-" She shushed you. "Sleep." Your lids felt heavy and soon after your neck muscles gave out and head bobbed forward as you fell asleep.

"Well that was easier than I thought." Crow threw you over his shoulder. "How many cannisters do you think we can fill with this one?"

"I don't know..at least three." Rose slipped her fingers under your chin. "You're right, she is a pretty thing. Too bad she doesn't have any particular skill. She seems like she'd be fun to have around."

"You think?" He gestured to the bottle of liquor that fell out of your purse. Rose chuckled and picked it up of the ground. "Eighty proof. My she must be a busy girl."

The roar of an engine came up from behind both members and they turned on both heels as Snakebite Andi opened the door to the RV. "That the Steamhead?" Rose nodded and Crow carried you inside. "Where to?" Barry yelled from the driver seat. "That forest we passed on the way here. Nobody should hear her out there."

A few hours later you kicked and screamed as Rose carried you out of the RV. "No! No! No!" You begged and flopped against her. "Please..please! I won't tell! I swear."

"Honey, it's not personal and I know you wouldn't but it's just not a practical option." She dropped you on the ground roughly and the other's began to tie you up.

Crow was standing off to the side with a map in his hands. "Rosie, I thought you said no one would hear us out here."

"They won't. Why?" Rose began to sharpen her knife. "We're near a campground." She furrowed her brows. "No, we're not."

"Yes, we are." He held two of his fingers up and gestured for her to come near him. Rose snatched the map into her hands and looked down at you.

"Well I'll be damned." Crow nodded. "Yeah, not a good thing."

Meanwhile Andi hammered one of the stakes down by your feet. "It's a shame, really. You're a pretty girl and I was there once in your shoes but a girl's got to eat."

Tears started streaming down your cheek and Rose stood infront of you. She didn't care who heard something. They needed to eat.

"Rose, will you make her shut up?" Barry groaned. Rose grinned and kneeled infront of you, running the knife against cheek. "Shh..pain purifies steam. Fear too so now you understand."

She raised the knife above her head, balance it inbetween the tips of her fingers. "Are you going to hurt me?" Your inside burns and you felt like you wanted to throw up.

"Yes." Her arm moved forward to stab you but a light peeked through the bushes. "Hey, what's going on over here?"

A rush of adrenaline radiated through you and you swung your legs forward. Kicking Crow in the face. He groaned, holding his bleeding face. "Little whore!"

"They're trying to kill me!" You screamed as you ran up the hill. You expected some of them to run after you but most fled to their RV.

Meanwhile Rose shoved a cloth she had woven into her hair in Crow's direction. "Rosie, where are you going?"

"I'm going to find that pretty, little bitch." Rose ran after you, trying to find any sight of you. "Y/n?" She called out. "That is your name, isn't it? I'm Rose, in case you didn't know mine."

A twig cracked and she spun in the opposite direction. "You can't hide forever, sweetface. That's what you've been doing your whole life, haven't you? If you don't hide from me, I can show you just how special we are. Because like I said you are a special girl."

You cautiously peeked out from behind the tree you were hiding by and made your way to speak past Rose.

"I hear you moving, my sweet. Come to Old Rose." You near passed her when your forehead bumped straight into her's. That battered old top hat fell off her head.

"You asshole!" Rose got your hair in her grip and gave it a rough yank. You screamed and attempted to push her back. "Get away from me, you crazy whore."

You earned another tug to your locks for that remark. "Knock my hat over, hide from me, and be rude? Oh honey, you and I are going to have fun."

Rose pressed your body against the ground and you helplessly found yourself gripping at the ground as if it was going to help you.

There was predatorial prowess in Rose's gaze that made you feel nervous. In the distance you could hear police sirens. "I think I seen them this way."

Rose's head quickly bobbed up as if she was trying to figure out if it was a member of her family and she cursed. "I want to remember every single feature on your face that way you'll never be able to escape."

You let out a scream and she rolled her eyes. "Oh will you shut up?" Rose's lips smashed against yours, biting at your lip for entrance to your mouth. You stared at her in awe for a few minutes before letting her tongue enter your mouth. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

This woman tried to kill you. You shouldn't be making out with her but her dominace and aggressive beauty took you in an instant and you had to admit, she was a damn good kisser too.

Your tongues fought for a winner for a few more moments before she pulled away from you. Your lipstick was smearing on Rose's lip and she grinned.

Her rough touch turned gentle as she booped your nose. "You're lucky. Your screams saved you this time but rest assure my sweet, I will be seeing you again and like I said, you'll never escape."

"Until we meet again, pretry girl." Rose stood up off the ground and nodded in your direction before walking off. You laid on the ground, gazing up at the stars. In shock of it all. "What the fuck just happened?"

You heard rustling from the bushes behind and the police ran up to you. "Miss, are you okay?" You nodded slowly. "Yeah I'm..I'm fine."

"Can you tell us what happened?" You could see The True's RVs rolling out in the distance and you shrugged. "I-i don't know."

One of them mumbled something about amnesia and helped you off the ground. "Let's get you to the hospital."

Down the road Rose drove at a normal pace as she made her way from the scene. "How come you're not panicking?" He had a piece of gauze pressed up against his cheek.

"She didn't tell," Rose responded, keeping her eyes on the road. "So we're just going to let her go?" She chuckled and shook her head. "No..I have a different plan for this one. I thought about what you said before Crow and I think you're right." He raised an eyebrow at Rose and she smirked.

Less than a week later you were back at home when there was a knock on your apartment door during your movie night and you put the bowl of popcorn down to go answer it. You looked out the peephole before opening it.

Rose stood on the other side, clad in a pretty silk shirt and broad grin on her face. "Well, hi there. I told you I'd be seeing you again."

There waa no weapon on Rose and you stared at her in complete confusion, not knowing whether to return the greeting or push her out. Rose giggled at you and strolled past you, shuttling the door behind her. "Ooo what are we watching? Casablanca? Good choice for a rube."

"W-what are you doing here?" Rose chuckled. "I told you we weren't finished yet." She pecked your lips. "I still have to make you scream."

She playfully smacked your ass. "Where's your bedroom?" You pointed down the hall and Rose took your hand in hers, taking you to your bed.

Rose pressed her lips against yours and forced you down onto the bed. "I don't think we really had a proper introduction."

"You think?" The words came out snappily but you didn't mind. "What exactly are you because I know you're not human."

"An empty devil." The response came out coldly and chills ran down your spine. Rose laughed and kissed your cheeks.

"Not so fiesty now, are we?" She ran her hands down your side as she looker around your apartment. "Haven't lived here long, have you? Or had a family in a while."

"What's it to you?" You spat and Rose smiled. "What would you say if I changed that?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Here's the deal..I'm going to make you an offer Y/n because it's clear you're the hunt or be hunted type and you're steamy." She eyed you up and down. "How old are you, lovely?"

"Twenty" You hummed softly and Rose grinned. "What an age. You know I remember being your age once. Long time ago. I felt lonesome and turned to love in all the wrong places then I met someone like myself who showed me I wasn't alone. Wasn't crazy. That's how you felt for a long time, didn't you? Your family didn't understand you. No one did."

"I-i..I don't want to talk about it." You overted eye contact. "Shhh.. it's okay. We all have our deep and dark little secrets in our families. That's what I'm offering you. No secrets you have to hold anymore and no more hunting for a meal. Stay young, eat well, live long. What do you say?"

"I say I got nothing to lose." You shrugged. "Excellent." You attempted to stand up to grab your belongings but Rose pushed you back down. "Oh no, no, no..not yet. I told you. I'm not through with you yet."

Instead of your screams of pain it was screams of pleasure Rose heard all night and Rose was perfectly fine with that. Either way she had you trapped and she wasn't letting you go, ever.

#crow daddy #the true knot #true knot #rose the hat #doctor sleep #dr sleep #the shining #imagine #x reader #fem reader #stephen king

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