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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Bittersweet Symphony 4

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Thor

Summary: you meet a god in real life but he’s not the saviour you think.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Is Thor coming over?” Joanie asks.

You try not to sigh. It’s the third day of her visit and the second morning she’s asked after the Asgardian. You hate telling her no. She’s not very good at hiding her disappointment. You smile.

“Kiddo, I think he’s pretty busy. Saving people and all--”

“Do you think he’s really friends with Captain America? And Iron Man? Mom said that it’s all fake,” she asks.

You put the bowl of cereal in front of her, “well, mom thinks everything is fake, doesn’t she?” You shrug. “Come on, eat up. We’re going to hit Central Park today. Got a long way to go.”

“A park?” She whines, “but I wanna see Thor!”

“Kid,” you utter.

“He likes you!” She chirps, “I saw him smiling at you.”

“He smiles at everything. By that logic, he was in love with his cupcake,” you snort.

“Mhm, I saw the message he sent you too!” She bobs her head defiantly.

“Joan-- you read my texts?” You sputter.

“Your phone lit up, I don’t know.”

“You're nine years old, you shouldn’t be worried about my phone,” you rebuke.

“He got your number. I watch those old movie with mom and I know what that means,” she grins.

“Enough,” your cheeks burn.

“I told you, he likes you,” she sings.

“Joanie,” you cross your arms.

“Are you gonna get married?”

“Joan! We haven’t even gone on a date--”

“You’re going on a date?” She bounces in her chair.

You huff and drop your hands to your hips, “you are sneaky.” You shake your head. You shouldn’t let her get to you like that. “Eat your cereal, I need to get dressed.”

You turn and stride away as she giggles into her bowl. You untie your fleece robe as you enter the bedroom and pick out a burgundy circle skirt and black tank to go with it. It should be pretty hot so you’ll only bring a light sweater.

You pick out some clothes from Joanie’s bag; her pink jeans and a lilac shirt with some child’s show on the front. You go to clean up her empty bowl as she changes. You brush your teeth and make sure she does the same. She’s easy enough to manage but when she’s hyper, she’s hard to rein in. You’re hoping a day of exploring can tire her out.

Once you’re cleaned up and ready to go, you head out to catch the train. You tell her not to let go of your hand and you’re sure to take your own advice. When your stop comes, you’re relieved to be free of the cramped train car and the smell of body odour.

You point out the Museum on your way and don’t mention the Zoo further down. That would be another tangle of strangers you’re not in the mood to deal with. You enter the park under the archway and take a few pictures to send to your mom.

As you set off further into the park, your name booms above the city buzz. Joanie jumps in her shoes and you both turn to face the baritone. Thor sprints up with a wave.

“Ah, what fate,” he stops in front of you with a triumphant puff of his chest, “I was only on my way to see a friend and I happened by.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head skeptically.

“How could I miss those ears,” he pinches one of the cat ears on Joanie’s hat.

She smiles and wiggles giddily, “Thor!”

“Yes, little one,” he laughs, “I hope I am not intruding very much.”

“No, we’re just going on a walk,” you explain.

“A walk? May I join you?”

“What about your friend?” You wonder.

“Hm, yes, well, Tony is not answering my calls. Nor is my brother. They’ve been elusive as late so I must admit I find myself restless,” he admits, rather forelorn.

“Ah, busy, I guess,” you suggest.

“Likely, yes,” he agrees.

“Well, no point standing around I guess,” you grab Joanie’s hand and pull her along the trail. Thor comes up on her other side and she takes his hand too.

“It is a lovely day,” he says. “I am gladdened to have found good company for it.”

“Thor?” Joanie squeaks, “when you say Tony... do you mean Iron Man?”

“Joanie,” you chide.

“He is a friend, yes. If you are not too busy, I could arrange a visit to his tower. Perhaps tomorrow?” He offers.

“Oh, really, we couldn’t--”

“That’s awesome!” Joanie hollers. You hide your embarrassment. It’s all so exciting to her but you hate to take so much when you don’t have very much to give.

“Yes, awesome,” he agrees.

You walk on as Joanie rambles on about Iron Man and Cap and her other favourite, Black Panther. Thor informs her that he is not sure he could just walk into Wakanda but that T’Challa may just show up. You listen in dread. He’s so nice but he shouldn’t do all that just for her.

“Ooh!” Joanie hops and rips her hand away, “I wanna ride the pony!”

She points at the horse and carriage. You catch her before she can run ahead. You have a fearful vision of her getting caught under the clopping hooves.

“Joanie, hold up,” you say.

“Ah, yes, I would also like a ride,” Thor agrees, “princesses.”

He gestures you ahead of him and you send him a look. He grins and bows his head. You keep your grasp on Joanie and take her over to the carriage as it slows.

“Thor,” the driver ignores you for the man at your back.

“Ernest!” The boisterous man greets him familiarly. “Shall we?”

“Sure thing, buddy,” the driver agrees.

You glance between the two men, surprised. You help Joanie up and put your foot on the step. You grab the side of the carriage to haul yourself up and feel your skirt brush against Thor as he stands close. You quickly hurl yourself onto the bench, overly conscious of your body.

He gets in sits across from you. He thanks Ernest and claps his thighs excitedly.

“You come here a lot?” You wonder.

“Ah, yes, I love horses. Most creatures. Your planet has many endearing ones. There is a little chipmunk outside my window. He is not fond of the sparrow that nested in his tree.” He shakes his head. It sounds as if he can understand the critters but surely that’s absurd.

“Cute,” you comment.

“Oh, yes, very cute,” he agrees. “I’ve found many cute creatures here on Midgard.”

He stares at you and Joanie leans into you. She tugs on your arm and you peer down. She wiggles her brows and you shake your head. He definitely doesn’t mean you.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #series #drabble #avengers #bittersweet symphony #mcu #marvel

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withacapitalp · 2 years ago

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Little Bird, Little Bird, Fly Through My Window

Read it on ao3 instead!

Robin’s mom calls her every Thursday at exactly 7:30 pm.

When she and Steve moved to New York so she could go to school, her parents initially pitched a fit about it. Moving 12 hours away, to the biggest city in the world, with a man she didn’t have any plans to marry?

Yeah, that certainly led to a few raised voices in the Buckley household.

But, once they got over the initial shock, her parents had come around to the idea. She was an adult, so they couldn’t stop her if she really wanted to, and Steve could charm birds off the trees with the right smile and sweet words. When she had finally convinced them that Steve was honestly just her best friend- no they weren’t sleeping together, no they weren’t secretly dating- they had agreed to support her. With a few conditions of course.

One: Don’t get pregnant.

Robin was pretty sure she would be able to avoid that one

Two: No going out at night without Steve.

Yes, they were still a little suspicious of whatever was going on there, but no one would bother her if he was walking next to her. That was fine, she didn’t really like to go anywhere without Steve anyway, that was the whole point of him leaving Hawkins with her.

Three: Her mother was going to call their apartment every Thursday at 7:30 pm, and Robin better answer the phone every single time.

That was the most annoying one.

Her mom just liked to talk so much. Olivia Buckely was a born and bred Midwesterner, and Robin had never had a phone call with her that didn’t last for at least two and a half hours. She always felt the need to update her daughter on every single member of their family, each neighbor, and all of her coworkers. What they had done, what they hadn’t done, who they were seeing, who they weren’t seeing anymore...all of it.

Robin couldn’t have cared less about any of that, but her mom still held her hostage anyway.

In all honesty, it was a small thing to have to fit in. She and Steve had settled quickly into their new life, and they had made a ritual for Thursday nights to deal with the annoyance of the phone.

They would come home from their jobs or their schools, and Steve would make Robin whatever she wanted for dinner. It didn’t matter how elaborate or how silly, he would make it. Once she had requested only a chocolate cake, just to see what he would do. An hour and a half later he presented her with a two layered masterpiece complete with birthday candles, just for shits and giggles.

They would eat dinner together on their lumpy little sofa, plates balanced precariously in their laps as they watched a movie on their tiny little box TV. Then, when the phone inevitably rang at 7:30 on the dot, Steve would take both of their plates and go do the dishes, coming back to the living room afterward to do whatever while Robin stood by the phone and slowly lost her mind.

Then, afterward, they would get rip roaring drunk.

It worked for them. It was annoying, but it worked for them.

It was on one of those Thursdays that Robin got the biggest shock of her life.

“Joanie called by the way. That woman who just married your Uncle Mitchell? I swear, I don’t know how he continues to get women to fall for him, he’s been married three times already. She’s a nice girl though, so I hope they make it, but she did bring along two kids of her own, so who knows?” Her mother prattled on, uncaring of the fact that her daughter was going to jump out their fifth story window if she had to hear much more of this.

Robin hummed to show her mom she was still listening, turning around to face Steve and miming putting a gun to her head.

He smirked at her and pushed up his glasses, lowering his gaze back down to the textbook in his lap. He had a test in one of his education classes tomorrow, and he was still studying. It was on Blooms….Bloom’s….

Bloom’s Whatever. It had to do with how kids learned, Robin knew that much. She had been helping him study for the last five days, but none of it really stuck in her head. It was weird, this was the first time that he really understood something that she couldn’t comprehend.

Oh well. It was stuck in Steve’s head, that was all that mattered.

“-plays baseball or something. And the older one is just a little bit younger than you, actually. Apparently, it was a teen pregnancy, a very big deal. Her parents disowned her, can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t,” Robin lied, not really sure who she was in disbelief for. Was this still about Mitch’s new wife, Jane?

Regardless of who, Robin could easily believe in someone’s parents disowning them when they found out something they didn’t like.

She could very easily believe that.

“Well, he is a very nice boy, Robin, a good addition to the family. You’ll like him, they’ll all be here when you come home for the holidays. He might even bring his boyfriend too. Oh, and please get me the times for your flights, honey. Your father wants to take off work so he can pick you two up,” Olivia said, her tone etching into impatience.

Robin opened her mouth to complain about her mom nagging her again about flights that weren’t happening for almost a whole month, but then her words finally registered in Robin’s brain.

Boyfriend. His boyfriend.

Her mom had just casually used the words ‘his boyfriend’.

“I’m sorry?” Robin said, her voice slightly strangled.

She must have misheard her, or the phone was malfunctioning. Somewhere along the 750 miles of line, it had to have cut out or warped the words, because there was no way in hell her extremely religious mother had just used the words ‘his’ and ‘boyfriend’ together in a sentence without bursting into flame.

“Your flights! Darling, I’ve asked you about this a thousand times. Put Steve on the phone, he’ll help me. I know I wasn’t sure about you moving out to that big city all alone with that boy, but honestly, now I thank my lucky stars that you have him. At least someone there would be able to find their head if it wasn’t attached!” Her mother teased.

Normally this was where Robin would get snarky, call her mom out for being just as forgetful as her. She couldn’t this time, she was too focused on the fact that all of the air seemed to have left the room in an instant, and her body had become mysteriously hollow.

“I wasn’t- his boyfriend?” Robin repeated, needing some kind of clarification. Steve, who had been happily eavesdropping on Robin’s side of the call the entire time, slowly put his book on the table, watching Robin with a worried look.

Olivia, who didn’t seem to have noticed the shift in her daughter’s mood, continued to gossip.

“Yes. Mitchell’s new wife Joanie? She brought her sons with her to Thanksgiving. Eric is the younger boy and Kyle is the older one. He brought his boyfriend Derek, who is a lovely young man by the way! He’s in school in Chicago studying finance, that’s where they met. He reminds me a lot of Steve actually. He has this thing he does with children, some sort of outreach? He was telling me-

“Mom,” Robin cut in, hard and fast. That was sometimes the only way to get a word in when it came to her mother, and Robin needed that word.

She wanted to ask a thousand questions, she had a hundred different things running through her brain.

She couldn’t find a single word.

“Robin? What’s wrong, little bird?” Her mother asked in a careful loving tone, using her childhood nickname.

Robin leaned back, her knees knocking together as she shook, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. Steve got up from the couch, crossing the room in just a few steps and coming to sit by her side. Without a word he held out his hand, and she grabbed it with her free one, squeezing too tight. A rush of love for her best friend swept through her, and Robin squeezed his hand again.

Steve always just knew what she needed, and Robin had no idea how she had lived seventeen years of her life without him.

“You don’t- I mean you-” Robin cut herself off, lowering her voice to a whisper of complete bafflement, “You don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind what, my love?” Her mother asked, perplexed.

Robin smothered down a laugh, completely baffled. In the past four years she had lived through actual monster attacks and the literal apocalypse, but this was the most unbelievable thing that had ever happened to her.

“That he has a boyfriend?” Robin clarified, pulling her hand away from Steve for a second to run her fingers anxiously through her hair, before latching onto him again, “You don’t mind that Kasey, Kyle, whoever, has a boyfriend?”

“Oooooooh!” Her mother said, finally putting the dots together, “Well, it’s a little unconventional, but the boy is very nice. Both of them are!”

Very nice. Her mother, who literally carried a pocket bible in her purse at all times, just called a gay boy and his partner ‘very nice’.

Briefly Robin considered that she might’ve died in the Upside Down a year ago. There was no way this was reality.

“I didn’t think you had a problem with gay people,” Her mother commented after the silence had gone on for a touch too long.

“I don’t,” Robin quickly said, searching for an explanation that wasn’t ‘I’m a gay people’, “I just, I didn’t know you didn’t.”

“Of course I don’t! Have I ever said I did?” Her mother asked, sounding worried.

She didn’t need to say it. The endless crosses all around their house said it. The constant bible verses said it. The Reagan yard sign said it. The pastor at their church who said AIDS was God’s Will said it. All of those things spoke louder than words ever could.

But Robin had no idea how to explain that.

“You go to church every week!” She finally sputtered out, as if that was enough.

“And?”

“You quote the bible at me constantly!” Robin protested, her voice raising.

Steve’s hand slid out of hers, and he wrapped around her shoulders, rubbing up and down on the top of her arm soothingly. It didn’t do much, but it was enough to make her let go of the emotions starting to ramp up.

“I mean, c’mon mom,” She said softly, letting her heart open up that same painful wound she had carried all her life, “What was I supposed to think?”

“Well let me quote you some more bible then, dear, because you’re clearly missing the most important thing,” Her mother said, and Robin could hear the fluttering pages in her mind as Olivia looked for exactly what she wanted to say. When she found it she gave a quiet exclamation before clearing her throat, the way she always did when she wanted to ‘speak the good word’

“John 4:7 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.”

Robin’s mother had been quoting scripture at her her entire life. On her good days, Robin was able to just roll her eyes and politely smile and nod along. On her bad days…well there had been a lot of bad days. Never once had she felt comforted by anything in the bible.

Well, never before this moment.

Robin bit at her trembling lip, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Steve’s forehead gently knocked against the side of her head, and she leaned into him, keeping a death grip on the receiver as her mother stayed quiet on the other side of the line.

“I- I’m-” Robin stopped herself. The quiet stretched out into a thin tense thing, until her mother’s voice rang out again.

“Robin, darling, I would never hate someone for what they were born as. Kyle didn’t choose to be born a homosexual, the lord made him that way,” Robin scoffed as her mother quoted gay anthems back at her. Her mom paused again, then spoke even quieter, “My most important commandment from Jesus is to love him, exactly as he is.”

“And you...don’t think it’s a sin?”

Because that’s the thing that really scared her.

Sure, Robin had always worried about the big reaction- the yelling, the hatred, her parents telling her they never wanted to see her again, but that wasn’t what kept her up at night. But there fear that kept her from taking the leap. There was a reason Steve was the first person to know instead of her own mother.

Robin was afraid her mother would love her anyway.

Olivia would smile, and brush her hair back, and promise to love Robin anyway. In spite of the fact that she was a lesbian, in spite of the undeniable fact that her daughter was going to go to hell. She was scared her father would pretend that he accepted it, and behind the closed doors, they would be disappointed. Her parents loved her, and she was terrified that they would continue to love her anyway.

Robin wouldn’t be able to handle that. She could stand being hated, but being loved with a new asterisk attached would kill her.

“It’s not on me to decide what sin is, or to judge someone even if I believe I see one. Don’t forget the story of the adultress,” Her mother said instead of answering the question.

“But do you think it is a sin?” Robin pressed, needing the answer now that she had finally asked the question, "Do you think it is sinful for him to like boys?"

“No, I don’t. All he did was fall in love,” Olivia stated. As if it was that simple.

As if Robin had never had a thing to worry about. All that pain, all that self-loathing, all those nights she cried herself to sleep, all of it was completely unnecessary.

Robin’s mind raced, trying to find any way to make this make sense with what she had known all her life. Maybe it was different if it was your own kid. Sure, it might be easy to accept some random new wife’s gay son, but her very own daughter? Her mother surely would have a different reaction then, right?

Right?

She had stayed quiet too long again. Her mother spoke up once more.

“Sweetheart…I love you very much. You know I love you more than anything,” She started slowly, and Robin’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. It was time. Her secret was up.

“But if I have raised you to think that it is alright to condemn someone because of something out of their control, then I have to tell you that I disagree. Wholeheartedly.”

Robin laughed.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and leaned into Steve’s side, and let her tears flow. She laughed for a long time, far longer than she should have, and her mom stayed silent the entire time, listening to her reaction.

“No, mom. That’s, that’s not it,” Robin finally managed to choke out. Her breath was still hitching, and her shoulders were still shaking, even though the laughter had died away.

Another long pause.

Another frighteningly long pause. Robin didn’t dare to speak first.

“You know, your father and I talked for a long time about your plans to go to New York,” Her mother finally said, clearly starting down the long winding path of a story. Robin curled up in her soulmate’s arms and let the phone receiver sit nestled between them both.

“You were awful insistent about going with Steve. You kept swearing up and down that you weren’t dating. I’ll be honest, we didn’t believe you at first,”

Yeah, they both already knew that. Her parents had been eagle eyed, intensely analyzing every interaction the two of them had in the weeks leading up to their move.

“But then we saw you two together. Yes, you were very familiar, and we know that Steve came and slept in your room after you two thought we were asleep, but it was clear there was no romance between you two at all. Not exactly like brother and sister, but not boyfriend and girlfriend. that much was obvious. Which got me wondering...why exactly the two of you would move together. If it wasn’t love, what was it?”

It was love. It was the purest love Robin had ever felt for a person. It was the kind of love she could never explain. The only people who understood were the ones who had also felt it.

“I talked with his mother, and she said, well, let’s just say she had a few choice words about her son,” Robins’ mother said, making Steve take a sharp breath in. The subject of his parents was still an extremely sore wound.

No, not really his parents. His mother. Steve didn’t care so much about losing his father, that was an inevitability whether he came out or not. He was just too different, too far away from what his dad expected him to become. Steve was honestly kind of happy when his father had kicked him out after they found out he was gay.

But that was his father. Steve had admitted to Robin late one night that having his mother turn her back on him was something he didn’t think he was ever going to fully recover from. Robin didn’t really understand it. Steve’s mother had never been anything but a cold hearted bitch in the few stilted conversations Robin had unfortunately had to have with her, and she knew for a fact that the woman had never treated Steve much better.

But he still missed her. He still wished that she could have loved him enough to try instead of just throwing him away. Robin supposed it was probably different when it was your own mom who hated you for something you had never asked for.

And apparently, she never needed to worry about that.

“The things that Lydia Harrington said told me everything I needed to know about why that boy needed you. That vile woman, the fact that she is the head of our ladies auxiliary is a travesty, and I've already appealed to the board twice and- well, that doesn't matter. What matters is that it also got me to thinkin' about why you seemed to need Steve just as much as he needs you.”

Her mom trailed off with a sigh They were approaching the edge again, staring out over the canyon, both wondering if their wings were strong enough yet to take that leap.

“....Do you have something you want to tell me?” Olivia asked her daughter, offering to give her the push she needed to fly.

Robin had a hundred thousand things to tell her mother. She wanted to tell her about the clubs she went to dance in at night, and the girl who sat in front of her in the orchestra at Juilliard. Robin wanted to tell her about how much it meant to Steve that her parents had insisted he had to come home with her for Christmas, and the way he had stayed up late all month trying to finish the gifts he was making for them. She wanted to tell her mom about Tammy Thompson, hear her laugh as Steve and Robin impersonated the girl's truly terrible singing.

She wanted to tell her mom she was gay.

But…

“Not now,” Robin decided. She wanted to do all of that, but she wanted to do it when she could see her mother’s face, when she could feel her father’s big warm hugs, “When I come home for the holidays,”

“Alright,” Olivia agreed, her voice soft and dripping with honey, “When you come home- when you both come home- you’ll tell me what you need to tell me.”

There was a beat, and then her mom spoke again. This time her voice was thick with emotion, and the words came out heavy.

“And I will tell you that I love you. I have loved you from the moment I knew you were in my belly, and I have loved you every single second after. Through every argument, every tantrum, every time you slammed the door in my face and told me I was trying to ruin your life,” They both huffed out a soft laugh at this.

Robin had really had a flair for drama when she was younger. Still did.

“I have loved you the entire time, and I will continue to love you until my last breath.”

“Mom,” Robin started, about to start the cycle all over again, but her mother interrupted her.

“You,” Olivia said with as much conviction as she could possibly have, “are the greatest gift of my life, Robin. My greatest joy. And I hope that you know that you can tell me whatever you need to, whenever you need to. I’d bury a body for you, little girl, but don’t you dare make me!”

She and Steve both broke out into giggles at this. The air was starting to come back into the room, warm and sweet.

“Your father feels the same way, just so you know,” Her mom added, just in case Robin hadn’t already caught that from everything else said, “Nothing could change how we feel for you,”

“Okay,” Robin whispered.

“You’re not alone right now, right?” Her mom asked, the normal touch of worry coloring her tone.

“No, um- Steve is sitting right next to me,” Robin admitted, hoping her mom would be okay with knowing that he had heard all of that.

“Hi, Mrs. Buckley,” Steve called, his voice betraying the fact that he had also been taken down by her heartfelt confession.

“Hi Angelboy!” Her mother sang, using the silly nickname she had assigned him when he had done the dishes one night after a family dinner. Olivia had been complaining that no one in the house ever helped her, and while she was ranting, Steve had snuck into the kitchen and finished all the dishes. She had bustled into the kitchen, found that there was no more work to be done, and declared that he was ‘her angel boy’, and she was stealing him from Robin.

“Make sure he knows the same thing goes for him- nothing changes that he’s a part of this family now,” She stated firmly.

“He knows,” Robin reassured her, knowing her mother would get in a car and drive all the way to New York just to come and beat it into their heads if she detected even a hint of doubt.

Robin rubbed at her face and took a deep calming breath, exhaustion starting to come over her in a haze. After that much emotion, the only thing she could want was her bed.

Well that, a stiff drink, and her best friend letting her leech his body heat all night long. As if sensing what was going on, Robin’s mother gave a loud exaggerated yawn.

“Alright, love. It’s getting pretty late, and I know you two were studying, so I’m going to let you go now, okay?” Her mother said.

“Okay,” Robin said, suppressing her own real yawn.

“Remember our rule though. I call on Thursdays at 7:30, and you?”

“Answer the phone,” Robin replied. This was routine, easy, normal. This was how they ended every phone call, with Olivia reminding Robin, as though her daughter had somehow forgotten in the last seven days.

Usually it annoyed her. Tonight she loved it.

“That’s right,” She said. Robin could just see her nodding her head as if she had just won a great battle.

“I love you, little bird,” Her mother cooed, and Robin smiled.

“I love you too mom,”

The words came easy. For years and years it had been so hard. Hard to say it back, hard to mean it when she had been so sure that it wouldn't be true for much longer. But now, Robin could tell her mother that she loved her as much as possible, and she was going to.

#Steve harrington #robin Buckley #robin Buckleys parents #robin Buckleys mother #Steve harringtons mother #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #platonic soulmates Steve and robin #qpr stobin #I thought that after all the angst #and the mayhem of the last few days #we could use a little light and a little love :')))))#Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

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goodobservationshirley · 4 months ago

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rewatch thoughts - the finale

oh joanie

you know, watching joe being so emotional about a place that now means a lot to him but that was initially cam and donna's... reminded me how a few years ago cam chose to have the meeting that eventually lead to comet in this very place, because she wanted to be reminded how much it hurt losing donna mutiny. i wonder if being there ever stopped hurting, and when

i love the "donna is happy now" montage

rip alexa, i liked you

cam's face when donna tells her some things just aren't the right fit. girl is thinking "you were, though" so loudly

i guess it's the scene of faces because donna's face when cam is busy explaining to haley that she's leaving is priceless. girl wants to DIE and then as soon as cam looks at her she immediately switches to the pleasant smile of a supportive friend who definitely isn't about to run across an airport a parking lot to stop you leaving

i wonder what cam was about to say before haley had her computer crisis, these two did not want to be saying goodbye

"take her to a movie or something" "no, i have to do this" "star trek generations is out" "ok, fine" LOL

seeing them working together again...

that scene is SO just... your ex you've been still in love with all along even though they hate(d) you just told you out of the blue they want to get back together and you're not prepared to deal with that

"that is her gift, thinking of impossible things" oh donna, you tragic lesbian

"the one constant is this. it's you, it's us" i know she's talking to all the women but also she's talking to one (1) woman

"my last and BEST partner" 💀

"i can't tell you what it means to me that you asked. i think in some ways i've probably been waiting for years to hear that" IN SOME WAYS, PROBABLY, girl please

no but gordon having this whole arc about finding out haley's gay and donna being just like "haley's gay, right?" to cameron and cameron being like i was waiting for you to bring it up because obvi, will forever be very funny to me

"i loved every minute of it" donna is just in idgaf mode isn't she. she's like i'm not gonna stop you from leaving (yet) but you're gonna take my fucking feelings with you

THE DINER! to answer the question i had in episode 2: they do sit in the same seats where joe asks cam if she knows what she wants

spoiler alert: she does

#halt and catch fire #and that concludes the #thanks to those who were along for the ride #hacf 2024 rewatch #the idiots found their way back to each other in the end <3

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mercurygray · 9 months ago

Note

Merc,

Could we get a glimpse of Kurt interacting with the MotA characters? Thanks! 🥺

We are shocked to report that as he is in all things, Kurt is being an ass.

If anyone had any ideas about what Captain Warren's boyfriend looked like, Kurt Havermeyer wasn't it.

They were stood down for the weekend, and Harding had been liberal with 48 hour passes, the whole base practically packing themselves off to points south. London felt like a stretch, but Cambridge was handier and the beer cheaper anyway, so they'd shined their shoes and polished their wings, and those among them with an inclination to misbehave made sure all the right tools were in all the right pockets.

"And how 'bout you, Captain?" Douglass had asked with a grin, as the train swayed and screamed out of the station, the flyboys packed into the cars and the corridors, hats cocked just so. "Any hot dates waiting for ya?"

"Meeting up with my boyfriend, actually." Joan had offered, cagily as they came, and glances were exchanged. The Ice Queen - a boyfriend? And just what did he look like? It wasn't like she'd been quick to make friends, the intelligence officer, fresh from OCS and a press tour that would have made a princess proud. That's what she was, wasn't it? A princess?

Well, a princess needed a prince, and here he was - blond and blue-eyed, he proverbial golden boy sunning himself under his own artfully crushed cap, fresh from fighter command and as cocky as they came. When they turned up at the same pub, him proud as a peacock, it came out that he'd shaken down Joan about meeting her freinds, that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"What is she, ashamed of us?" Bubbles asked Crosby, as Joan almost hid. But after a while, Crosby wasn't inclined to agree - it wasn't them Joan was ashamed of. It was him.

He was loud, Captain Havermeyer, loud and full of his own self importance, rattling on about his plane and his wing like they were only ones fighting the war. Rich, too - he'd been all too clear about that, buying a few rounds for the room like money was nothing. Not a single kind word for the crew, or the plotters - and nothing but noise for the bomber boys. All while Joan sank back quietly into her seat, her own beer untouched, and the men from Thorpe Abbotts fumed and tried to stay on thier best behavior, and not be the yokels from Nebraska he assumed them to be.

They tried to offer common ground - about the beer, and the weather, and the state of the army, and everyone was getting along fine until Kurt, laughing, made some pass about promotions for pretty faces and how they'd let anyone in if she had a good ass - just like Joan, right?

The next moment happened so fast that later on that evening several people were almost sure they'd imagined it - Major Cleven's fist, shooting out to connect with Captain Havermeyer's eye, Havermeyer staggering back with the force of the blow, and Joan's face, stunned behind the two of them shouting in horror, not for Kurt, but for Gale.

"Apologize to the lady." It was a command, not a suggestion, Cleven's voice a half-note lower than his usual gravel.

Kurt surged forward from the floor, quickly held back by the remaining pilots, straining at his coat, his collar. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"An officer and a gentleman," Cleven said, serious as a open grave. "Neither of which seem to apply to you."

Kurt snarled, trying to shrug back into his coat, but no one was letting him go just yet. "Joanie, we're leaving."

"No, you're leaving, buddy," Bucky said with a stare that could have spit bullets. "She's staying right here."

He took a step forward, blocking her in, and the others closed ranks around Joan, now very much part of the crowd and staggered a little by her inclusion in a group that until ten minutes ago she'd had never quite been sure she'd had a single friend in. Every man there looked ready to fight, and a couple of the women, too, and Kurt had the good sense, finally, to see that if he tried to start something else here he'd defintely lose.

"We're finished, Joan Warren!" His face was starting to redden and there was split flying when he spoke. "You hear me?"

"Good," some joker (Douglass?) roared from the back, "She can do better."

He sneered at the lot of them and made a quick exit for the door, and the minute he was gone the whole group burst into laughter, with slapped backs for Cleven and beers for everyone and appreciative pats, too, for Joan. "What an asshole." "We can find someone better." "-clean as a whistle and BAM, right in the kisser." "Fuckin' fighters, man. No sense of the team."

Joan made her way to Cleven's elbow, leaning once more against the bar with his cola. "That was…very gallant, of you, Major."

"No one ought to speak like that about a woman he claims to love," Gale said quietly, gently flexing his fingers and rubbing his hand. "You're very good at your job, Captain. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what he's talking about." He met her eye and gave her one of his rare small smiles, and she nodded, accepting the compliment as it had come.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #joan warren #masters of the air au #tds cinematic universe #kurt havermeyer #all the alternate universes

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ladykailitha · 37 minutes ago

Text

The Au Pair Boy Part 4

And this story is back!!! Sorry about last week, but I really wanted to finish the rockstar AU.

In this we get, Chrissy and the girls being cute and everyone gets to know each other a little bit more.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chrissy stayed the first day to help with the meltdowns but was a little surprised when Steve let them just lie on the floor.

Steve caught her raised eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “Sometimes the best way to deal with a temper tantrum is to ignore it. Plus, their dad just left for what is not short amount of time. He’s not coming back tomorrow or even next week. He’s going to gone for months. I think they deserve a little floor time, don’t you?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Huh. I never thought it of it like that.” She walked over to the girls and laid down next to them.

When Steve came back from making breakfast, he found both girls wrapped around Chrissy and all three of them sound asleep. He went back into the kitchen and carefully wrapped up their sandwiches. Lunch could wait.

It was some time later before any of them stirred. Joan was the first. She sat up and looked around. The sun had changed position so the room was darker. She spotted her sister and Chrissy, still asleep.

She wandered the house before she spotted Steve in his room reading.

“Well hello there,” he said gently. “Are you the only one awake?”

She nodded and crawled up on his lap. “I want Daddy, but I can’t find him.”

Steve set down his book and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Remember, Joanie, Daddy’s at work now, but he said he would call as soon as he plane landed. Has he called yet?”

Joanie looked up at him thoughtfully. “Would he call you or Aunt Chrissy?”

Steve scooped her up and started carrying her down the stairs. “He said he would call Chrissy tonight, then me every night I’m working. Which is why I’m taking back to her so you don’t miss his call.”

“Daddy is going to come back right?” she asked, his voice small. “Not like Papa?”

“Your daddy would never leave you like your papa did, Joanie,” Steve murmured. “He loves you too much.”

“Then why did he leave?”

Well he wasn’t sure how to answer that in a way she would understand. “Your daddy got a once in a life time opportunity to get back together with his band. He had work with four people’s schedules. But he loved you so much that he made sure that he had someone he could trust with you and Janie, okay?”

Joan nodded and wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck as he worked his way back to the front room.

Chrissy was just waking up, but Janice was still asleep. She looked at her watch and cursed.

“Aunt Chrissy said a bad word,” Joan huffed as Steve set her down.

Chrissy head whipped around to see Steve and Joan standing in the entrance way. “Oh, hi, Joanie, I didn’t see you standing there. You shouldn’t have wandered off without telling me.”

“I went looking for Daddy and found Steve,” she said pointing to Steve.

Chrissy looked up at Steve and then back at Joan. “Good job, Joanie.” She gently untangled herself from Janice’s iron tight grip and stood up. She straightened her clothes and glared at him.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Steve pulled out his phone without a word and fiddled with a moment, before turning the screen around so she could see.

“Oh.”

There on the screen was a picture of her with the girls, all cuddled together in a pile on the floor.

“Um,” she said shyly, “if I gave you my number could you send that to me? I want it as the wallpaper on my phone.”

Steve nodded. She rattled off her phone number and he sent her the picture with a grin. Behind her Janice was waking up, groggy and disorientated.

“Daddy?” Janice asked sleepily. She looked around and saw only Steve, Chrissy, and Joan and immediately burst into tears.

Chrissy wrapped her arms around the little girl and held her tight. Joan waddled up to Chrissy and tugged her shirt sleeve. Chrissy brought her willingly into the hug. “It’s all right, pumpkins I think it’s past time for lunch. And I think everyone is feeling a little hangry at the moment.”

“I’ve got sandwiches in the fridge,” Steve offered jutting his thumb behind him.

Suddenly the girls pulled away from Chrissy and made a mad dash for the kitchen, Steve fast on their heels to make sure they didn’t try to get the plate out of the fridge themselves. Chrissy followed close behind, shaking her head fondly.

Lunch was a hit especially when the girls saw that their sandwiches were cut into little hearts.

“Did you throw away the scraps?” Chrissy asked as she munched happily on her non-hearted turkey sandwich.

Steve shook his head. “I cut the bread before adding anything to it, condiments, meat, cheese and then I use the bread scraps to make bread crumbs. Then I trim the cheese and have a little snacking cheese while I finish the other sandwiches.”

“Clever.”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “Hey, girls what does your Daddy say about business at the lunch table?”

Joan and Janice shared a look and shrugged.

“Daddy usually doesn’t have lunch with us because he’s working,” Joan huffed. “Usually our nanny would fix us lunch.”

Steve looked over at Chrissy in surprise. “I was under the assumption that I was the emergency au pair, as in he didn’t have one before he left. Was that not the case?”

Chrissy shook her head. “I’m sure Eddie told you that they tend to chase off their nannies?”

“We do not!” Joan huffed crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting.

“Yeah!” Janice said. “Miss Molly spent all the time on the phone with her boyfriend.”

“We were left unsup–unpup–unstupified!” Joan said, stammering around the big word.

“Unsupervised,” Chrissy said slowly then turned to Steve. “Molly was only the most recent run of bad nannies. One was spanking them for punishment, another was smoking weed in the house. And each time, the girls would misbehave so badly that the nannies would go running and blame the girls, only for the truth to come out.”

“Miss Emily liked to scare us,” Janice said with a whimper. “Jump out of closets and stuff. Said it would make us tougher.”

“Eddie found that one out because he came home early one day when a meeting with another producer fell through,” Chrissy said shaking her head. “She lasted two weeks.”

“Jimney Cricket,” Steve cursed. He turned to the girls. “I promise to not spank you or scare you or be on the phone with my boyfriend or girlfriend, mainly because I don’t have one.”

Joan cocked her head to the side. “You like both? Can you do that?”

“Yup!” Chrissy said brightly. “I’ve had a couple of boyfriends in the past. I just decided that girls were easier and more fun.”

Steve nearly snorted his water. He was so glad the girls were way too young to catch Chrissy’s meaning. Because, hooboy, their dad had only been away for a couple of hours and already Chrissy had gone feral.

“So you’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends?” Janice asked Steve, her head tilted the opposite direction of her sister so their heads were almost touching.

“I have!” he told her brightly. “Just not in a while. I’ve been taking care of sweethearts like you and have been too busy to date.”

Chrissy eyed him like he was a piece of meat she was thinking of serving up. Most likely to Eddie. His boss.

“But you aren’t a nanny, right?” Janice asked. “You’re an off pear? Is that rotted fruit?”

Chrissy and Steve shared a glance before they both burst out laughing.

“Au. Pair,” Steve said slowly. “Traditionally a young woman from a foreign country hired to cook, clean, and watch small children in exchange for housing and a small income. But I’m a little bit different.” He held up his finger and thumb really close together.

“Is because your a boy?” Joan asked at the same time Janice asked, “Is it because you aren’t foreign?”

Steve laughed again. “You’re both right. Though my mom is Italian, but I was born here in Indiana.”

“Just like us!” Joan said, throwing her arms in the air and almost knocking her plate and half of her sandwich off onto the floor.

“It’s all right, Joanie,” Steve soothed when she got really upset about almost knocking her plate on the floor. “You learned a valuable lesson in making sure your plate is pushed far enough on the table that it won’t get easily spilled.”

She sniffled but nodded.

They went back to eating and as Steve was cleaning up Chrissy asked him what he wanted to discuss at the table that got sidetracked by the girls.

“Just wondering when we should start looking for other help,” he said over his shoulder as he washed the dishes. “I don’t think we need to start right away for the cleaner and cook since there won’t be a lot of need for it, but a pool cleaner, ground maintenance, and gardener/ groundskeeper should be our top priorities.”

Chrissy stared at him for a moment. “Holy shit, you’re efficient. Yeah, we can start on all that shit tomorrow. I have the next couple of weeks off to help you settle the girls in. Eddie’s been gone for a weekend or two before and they’ve spent the night with me, so I’m always on call if you need anything.”

Steve smiled at her, wiping his wet hands on a rag he had draped over his shoulder while he washed.

“That’s great,” he said. “I won’t be able to keep calling on you because they’re going to need to get used it just being me.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Eddie really likes you and wants you to do well here so he’s authorized me to help you out anyway I can.”

“You don’t know what a relief it is to hear that,” Steve said, leaning against the counter. “Most parents either don’t care or are so afraid you’re trying to steal their children’s love that they undermine you at every turn.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that with me or Eddie,” Chrissy said firmly. “Honestly it’s a relief. I’m not mom material. I never intended to be one. I like being Auntie Chris, but I’ve had to step up since Ethan walked out on them. It’s not fair to Eddie and it’s not fair to me either. So for both of us, having you come in and be that other parental figure in their lives is a huge fucking relief.”

Steve chuckled. “Duly noted.” He threw the balled up towel into a nearby basket. He liked having a place to put his used towels and wash cloths so he could remember to wash them as often as they needed to be.

“He shoots!” Chrissy cheered. “He scores!”

She waved her arms like she had pompoms in them and jumped in the air. Steve laughed.

“I may have played basketball in high school,” he said, a little sheepishly. Judging from the answers at the get to know everyone dinner, it seemed that the family didn’t do sports much and were very nerdy.

She leaned forward and put her hand to the side of her mouth and stage whispered, “And I might have been a cheerleader in high school and college.”

Steve’s interest was suddenly very piqued. “Really? That’s so cool!”

“Yup!” Chrissy said with a nod. “My mom wanted me to go pro, but I got a business degree for a reason and that was to manage the band. Eddie saved me from an emotionally abusive relationship when I went to him for weed and came out of the deal with a best friend.”

“Nice!” Steve said holding his hand out for a fist bump, which she gladly gave. “Me and my best friend met working at this hideously themed ice cream shop. We became friends when the owner tried to burn it down for the insurance but the idiot didn’t stop to think that we would still be cleaning up.”

Chrissy grimaced. But before she could respond her phone started ringing. “Oh shit, that’s Eddie!”

She went dashing out of the room, calling for the girls. Steve followed slower behind as he wasn’t really needed for the bit of that conversation.

As soon as he walked into the room and in view of the camera Eddie called out, “There he is! He survived day one!”

“Day isn’t over with yet,” Steve pointed out with a huff of laughter. “I’m dreading night time. It’s a bath night.”

Eddie and Chrissy both winced.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “I wasn’t thinking about that when we chose today to leave. Good luck and may Poseidon keep you safe from Scylla and Charybdis.”

“Daddy!” Joan and Janice huffed. “We’re not monsters!”

“I got that reference!” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “Do you girls like Percy Jackson?”

Chrissy burst out laughing. “That would be tamer, but no, this idiot has read them straight up Greek myths.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested from the phone. “I’ll have you know I carefully edited out the worst parts and was sure not to introduce to stories like Oedipus and Circe’s island, thank you very much.”

“I loved hearing about myths and legends when I was a kid,” Steve said with a shrug. “I’m sure the girls are no different.” He turned to Eddie, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start reading those books to them.”

Eddie shrugged on the video. “I guess, I mean if they could handle me reading myths to them, they could probably handle that. Just not at night. Night time is for learning. They have a lot of great Sandra Boynton books I would prefer you read to them instead.”

They started talking about other things and soon it was time for Eddie to go. He kissed the screen and said goodbye to the girls.

Steve got them all dressed for some outside play that Janice loved and Joan merely tolerated. As he watched them play in the massive yard, he figured that today could absolutely count as a good day.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #nanny au #rockstar eddie munson #nanny steve harrington

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cardiac-agreste · 4 months ago

Note

Tell me, why do you bring up real life issues whenever people talk about sentibeing stuff?

Based on your username, I assume that you are a writer (and tall, but that's not relevant here). So I'll answer your question with a question:

Do you use real-life issues to write your stories?

If you do, why do you disapprove of a reader doing the same thing?

Art is made to move people emotionally. You can't be moved emotionally without connecting yourself to the story. I'm not even sure something can be art when its beholders separate the work from real-life issues.

I'm not saying the work has to be overtly political, but it still needs to relate to the real world. Joanie is sad because Chachi was late for their date. "Oh, that reminds me of a time my wife was late for our plans!"

The sentibeing stuff is so transparently a metaphor for alternative conception methods. I'm old enough to remember that "test-tube baby" was used as an insult, and religious groups tried to get the practice banned. Before my time, federal research funding was denied. The practice left the US to be developed abroad for a while because of this. I think the first IVF birth was in the US, but after that it shifted to the UK and Australia.

And even decades before that, the term "test-tube baby" was used pejoratively against births conceived via artificial insemination. (I also remember this term being used pejoratively in media in the 80s and early 90s.)

Gabriel and Emilie couldn't conceive. Eventually, they used a technology that enabled it.

Because she was an actress and a member of the English nobility, we can assume she carried a baby for approximately nine months and delivered him. We can assume this because there's no way she could have magically had a baby one day without having been pregnant; British tabloids would've had a field day about the "fake kid" "staining" the BRF or whatever.)

I don't understand why people have a problem with that, but it smells too much like religious bigotry of the 70s. Actually, it smells like 2024. Did you know the largest religious group in the USA, the Southern Baptist Convention, just voted to oppose IVF in June?

#miraculous ladybug #fandom salt #adrien agreste #sentibeing #“sentimonster” is a slur #IVF #artificial insemination #gabriel agreste #emilie agreste #writing

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 3 months ago

Text

Love In Trouble [Part Five]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler, Red West, Sonny West, Jerry Schilling Colonel Tom Parker, Minnie Presley, Vernon Presley, Dee Presley, Joanie Esposito, Joe Esposito, Pat West

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5041

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

Notes: I've had a shit few weeks but we're carrying on and thank god cos our Boys have finally met <3

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

‘Are you ready?’ Austin asked, swapping the receiver of the phone to his other ear so that he didn’t miss her answer.

‘I think so,’ Lori replied quietly

‘It can't be think, Lori. It’s got to be a yes or no,’ he said trying to keep the frustration out of his voice but remain firm. Because it had to be yes or no, preferably yes. Otherwise he'd gone to bat for nothing. He had pissed off his captain and sheriff and made a stink amongst the precinct for nothing. He’d be the new guy swooping in from California and ruining the delicate Memphian ecosystem of bribes and looking the other way. Even the district attorney, who had backed him, had done so on the promise of bringing down the entire operation. He wasn’t bothered about Presley or Tony for that matter. He wanted to be the one to oust key players from the city’s underbelly. For morality or glory Austin didn’t know but it was the reason he kept himself from sounding too agitated. If they were going to bring down anything they needed her. She had even been the one to point out that they had cause to arrest Presley as he was sure to have a ten card from previous, something Austin hadn’t even considered.

‘No, I am,’ she said, her breath a little shaky which didn’t fill him with confidence but he accepted her words nonetheless. It wasn’t as though he had a choice not to. He could hear her shift, hesitance in her breathing that insinuated she was going to ask him something and so he waited for it, ‘do you know when?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he replied, ‘early morning. The DA wants to make sure no news gets out, that they don’t get to alert one another, so we’re hitting every house at once.’

‘How many?’ she asked quietly.

‘Just the names you gave me,’ he said. It had felt odd to have followed her to a chapel of rest but getting a hold of her without someone watching he was fast learning was an art. Even having her on the phone had taken a handful of calls until she and she alone had picked up. Fortunately no one in the Presley enterprise seemed keen to accompany her in staring at a closed casket. There had been no service and no attendees other than him and her which had been fortunate for him even if it had made him feel a little dirty.

‘Right,’ she muttered, ‘are you coming?’

‘Yes.’

‘Like you’ll arrest him?’ she asked

‘Yes it’s my case,’ he replied, his frustration growing at the hitch in her breathing, ‘is that a problem?’

‘No,’ she said quietly though her tone was not reassuring furthering his nerves which prompted him to ask, ‘if you don’t think you can act-’

‘Honey I’ve been acting my entire life,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll be ready.’

✵✵✵

Lori didn’t sleep most of that night. She didn’t do much but potter around her bedroom fretting. In fact she only stopped when she heard the rumble of a car pulling into the driveway signalling that Elvis was home. At that she’d leapt into bed and turned the light off, turning herself to face the wall as she listened to him stumble in and strip off his clothes before he clambered into bed. Fortunately he had fallen asleep quickly, far away on the other side of the bed which meant she wasn’t forced to face him. Instead she spent her night watching him. He looked younger when asleep, more innocent. That was when the uncertainty had crept back in. When Austin had asked her if she was ready she had thought she was but looking at him like that made her doubt herself.

She knew it was selfish. That her only doubts were on her own behalf but she couldn’t help but feel them. Those doubts had been the soundtrack she had fallen asleep to and they were interrupted as she was brought back to the realm of consciousness by a dull thud, the padded door of her bedroom hitting the wall at a pace.

‘Boss! Boss you gotta get up!’ she heard Charlie’s voice call before she came to and when she did he was already pulling clothes out of their closet ready for Elvis who had yet to stir.

‘Elvis,’ she said groggily, a limp hand shaking his shoulder as she tried her best to rouse him, ‘Elvis wake up.’

‘Boss you gotta come quick,’ Charlie said, throwing an outfit on the bed as he too tried to shake her husband awake. He came to the moment Charlie touched him.

‘What is it?’ he asked crankily.

‘Cops,’ Charlie said, ‘they’re askin’ to come in. Say they’ve got a warrant or something.

‘What?’ Lori gasped.

‘What are you talkin’ about?’ Elvis said, forcing himself up in bed quickly and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

‘They want you and they’re not takin’ no for an answer,’ Charlie said, offering the clothing to Elvis who started to dress without care his friend was in the room.

‘What do you mean?’ Lori asked but her question was ignored by both men.

‘Go and tell ‘em I’ll be down in a minute,’ Elvis said, rubbing his tired face as he tried to wrap his head around what was going on. As Charlie nodded and scurried out of sight Lori moved a little closer, keeping her tone as worried as possible as she asked, ‘El what’s happening?’

‘How the fuck do I know?’ Elvis grunted as he slipped on his pants, donning a pale blue shirt over his tanned torso a moment later. At that she fell quiet fearing too much questioning would cause too much scrutiny on her end.

Yet she couldn’t help but watch him. He was clearly disgruntled by the whole thing. His jaw was set and his gorgeous blue eyes though tired burned bright with indignation. A sentiment that was confirmed as they left the bedroom. She could hear people downstairs, worried chatter carrying up from kitchen stairs and the muttering of men in her hallway. But he didn’t turn the corner, he lingered on the landing, almost forcing her to walk into the back of him, before he straightened his shirt and then sauntered down the stairs without a care in the world. Lori followed behind in trepidation.

When they got down there Austin was standing on their front stoop, in amongst a gang of officers who seemed wholly unenthused to be there. In fact the only one who didn’t seem entirely put out was his fellow plain clothed officer who nudged him as he noted Elvis stride into view. Lori kept close behind, smiling weakly as Charlie threw her a reassuring smile and trying to ignore how Elvis’ grandma’s eyes bore into the back of her skull from her chair in the living room as she watched on.

As they got to the front step the chattering amongst the officers grew quiet, all eyes on them as Elvis surveyed the party before he said, ‘someone wanna tell me what the fuck’s goin on?

‘Mr Presley?’ Austin asked, his eyes flitting to Lori behind him for half a second.

‘Yeah,’ Elvis grunted.

‘We’re here to serve a warrant,’ Austin said as he produced a stack of papers from his suit jacket and handed them across where Elvis could snatch them out of his hand. He read quickly, his eyes scanning the pages before they narrowed and he asked, ‘in relation to a murder?’

‘Yes,’ Austin replied.

‘The fuck this have to do with me?’

‘Well that’s what we’d like to ask you about,’ Austin’s partner said.

‘Down at the station,’ Austin added. Lori kept her eyes trained on her husband watching as his jaw clenched in indignation.

‘I already told you I don’t know nuthin’ about that,’ Elvis said.

‘Yeah well we have new evidence that states otherwise,’ Astin said, with a tight smile, ‘so if you’d come with us. These boys can get to serving their warrant.’

‘What evidence?’ Elvis spat.

‘Like I said we can talk about it down at the station,’ Austin replied.

‘Like hell,’ Elvis baulked throwing the warrant so that it hit Austin square in the chest, fluttering to the floor onto white concrete. Austin sighed and stepped forward. He was looking up at Elvis, the step to the portico meaning they were on uneven footing but he was standing tall with a look of warning mirth on his face as he said, ‘that’s not a request so unless you want cuffing you need to come with us.’

Elvis narrowed his eyes. Everyone was watching him which admittedly wasn’t a new phenomenon but he normally didn’t care what those around him saw. Now however he seemed aware that he needed to play this carefully and though his words sounded like a consent there was an air of contempt woven through his demeanour as he turned away and looked to Charlie as he said, ‘get me jacket will ya.’

‘Elvis what do we do?’ Lori asked as he moved inside the hall checking his appearance in the mirror as if he was going out for a leisurely stroll and not being arrested. Austin pulled back and loitered with his partner who was tucking the dropped warrant back in his pocket.

‘Call the colonel,’ Elvis said, quaffing his hair before he took the jacket from Charlie who had now reappeared. He continued as he slipped it on, ‘call daddy and tell ‘em what happened.’

‘Right, okay the colonel,’ Lori said, watching as he walked out onto the front stoop ready to move along. Lori came to stand at the door unsure of how to part from him. A kiss felt too familiar especially in the presence of so many officers and yet not to do so felt off. Everything felt wrong which was no surprise given that her stomach had been doing somersaults since the moment her eyes had snapped open.

‘Tell ‘em not to worry,’ he said, glancing at Austin and a uniformed officer who were striding out ahead of him to a car sitting by the bottom of the steps before leaning in to press a kiss on her cheek. She should’ve known an audience wouldn't deter Elvis Presley from showing especially considering he didn’t sound at all worried as he said, ‘I’ll be home before breakfast. You’ll see.’

And then he was gone. Lori watched as he walked to the car and climbed through the door being held open for him which closed with a squeak and a slam. He was in shadow in the back seat so she couldn’t see him properly but nevertheless she watched as the car drove down the winding drive before embarking onto the street.

When she moved from the door the uniformed officers entered and by the time she’d left the hall they were already going through cabinets and cupboards with no rhyme or reason. Her belongings spilled from drawers onto carpets and tables. Her couch cushions littered the floor around Grandma Dodger. Gladys’ finest China clinked as it was pushed around the cupboard without care. As she wandered through to the kitchen she tried to remind herself she had asked for this. She had tossed the grenade herself and that she couldn’t be reluctant for things to feel a little messy. Messy would prevail in justice for Tony. Punishing Elvis would punish her in return which was what she deserved. Even if she was feeling all out of sorts because of it. In a way she supposed that was better, if she’d been cool and collected Elvis would’ve sniffed her out she was sure of it. At least a nervous mess she was playing the game.

Finally she made it to the kitchen, unhooking the receiver of the phone from the latch as the staff whispered from a huddle in the corner as they tried to stay out of the way of the officers. However she didn’t get very far in dialling before she heard her name called and swivelled around to find the other plainclothes officer, what she suspected to be Austin’s partner watching her intently.

‘Yes?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

‘What's this?’ he asked, gesturing to the TV unit on the kitchen worktop that displayed a picture of the gate.

‘Our security system,’ she said.

‘Is it just on the gate?’ he asked just as Charlie came in looking harried.

‘Yep,’ she said, her throat dry and sticking with now two pairs of eyes on her.

‘And it’s on twenty-four hours a day?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, we don’t shut it off,’ she confirmed.

‘Does it record?’ he asked.

‘Uh, yeah,’ she said, ‘I think so.’

‘Great thanks,’ he said, donning his glasses as he moved to inspect the bulky contraption. Lori turned to restart her phone call, the dial tone now missing given her prolonged absence but as she did she felt a hand on her elbow and a set of lips by the shell of her ear as Charlie whispered, ‘what did you tell him that for?’ before moving past her towards his room.

Lori watched him go, glancing at the detective who was still scrutinising the camera system. It looked as though her acting wasn’t the only thing that was going to need to withstand scrutiny.

✵✵✵

Elvis Presley was not a patient man. He never had been, being an only child and the apple of his mother’s eye hadn’t helped him with his temperament, but notoriety and twenty or so years of bossing everyone around had meant he hadn’t got used to waiting around. He certainly was not used to being given as little information as possible other than being read his rights before he was stuffed into an interview room on his own. Not even his lawyer, a nervous, sweaty man called Hank, arriving had hurried the process up. Which was why he was still sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair, glaring at an older detective as his lawyer flicked through a thin file and tried to ignore the way Elvis’ leg rattled against his as it bounced against the tile floor.

He only broke his gaze as the door unlatched, the blonde detective, the one who’d been stirring the pot since day dot, sauntered in, case file in hand. Elvis watched as he closed the door quietly and unable to stop the irritation from bubbling inside him he found a snarky, ‘by all means take your damn time,’ fall from his lips without warning.

Austin threw him a glance but didn’t respond, electing to remain silent as he dropped into the seat opposite. Because he knew Elvis Presley wasn’t a patient man. No man who had half of Memphis cower to his every want and whim could possibly be patient. He was too well catered to and more importantly too used to everyone bending over backwards to accommodate him, it was why he’d left him in here for the longest time. It was why he’d interviewed all his cronies first. It was why he didn’t say anything as he got settled, allowing the other man to shift in his seat as he muttered, ‘ain’t bad enough you hauled my ass down here on some bullshit charge.’

Again Austin ignored him, gesturing for his partner to flip the switch on the large tape player in between both parties which he did, shifting awkwardly as he realised Austin was allowing him some input. Of course John did not know his partner that well but he’d been in enough interview rooms to know the dynamic his colleague was aiming for. And so he cleared his throat and prepared his most polite tone as he said, ‘interview commenced at nine fifteen am on June twelfth. Detectives Butler and Melling present along with the appropriate counsel. Sir, could you please state and spell your name for the record?’

John was watching Elvis as he spoke, everyone was, but the man’s gaze remained locked on Austin, his blue eyes narrowed and a distinct curl on his lip in contempt even though it wasn’t him asking. Austin didn’t react.

‘Uh, Mr Presley,’ John said, clearing his throat again awkwardly when he failed to answer, ‘could you please-’

‘Elvis Presley,’ Elvis replied, his eyes still on Austin, ‘E-L-V-I-S P-R-E-S-L-E-Y.’

‘Thank you,’ John replied, an awkward but thankful smile on his lips that Austin resisted the urge to roll his eyes to. It hadn’t been easy to get everyone on board and though John had backed him but less out of the belief Austin had a good case and more out of some archaic duty to support his partner when he was under fire. Still it hadn't meant he was entirely on board and even he wasn't immune to trying to make Elvis Presley feel comfortable.

‘Now you gonna tell me why the hell you dragged my ass down here?’ Elvis challenged, not bothering to respond to the officer who had been speaking to him. There wasn’t much point, it wasn’t as if he’d stopped staring at Austin throughout the entire conversation.

‘I assumed that was clear in the warrant you were served,’ Austin said. Elvis’ glare deepened and his jaw tightened at the whiff of snark but Austin merely smiled and said, ‘but we can get to it anyway.’

Elvis watched as he shifted in his seat, opening up a manila folder and scanning through it as he produced a pen from his pocket. He moved slow, as if he was doing paperwork at his desk and not interrogating a suspect and Elvis watched him angrily waiting for him to speak.

‘Can you tell me where you were on May thirtieth?’ he said once he’d finally settled himself.

‘Ain’t I already told you?’ Elvis sneered.

‘I’m asking again,’ Austin said, tight but firm.

‘That dead kid ain’t nuthin’ to do with Kings,’ Elvis sneered.

‘That’s not what I asked,’ Austin replied, again his tone teetering on the edge of snark. Elvis glared at him but glanced towards his lawyer who had remained quiet through the entire thing, no doubt wanting Elvis to take charge before he made any decisions as everyone else seemed to do.

‘If you could provide some information that’s probably for the best,’ Hank muttered into Elvis’ ear, making his jaw tighten further.

‘At home,’ he said, his voice tight and low.

‘All day?’ Austin asked.

‘I went to the club,’ Elvis said.

‘That’s Kings night club, correct?’ Austin said.

‘Yes,’ Elvis replied, his tone dripping with resentment at having every little detail pulled from him. His irritation was also mounting at the way the detective was scribbling notes every time he spoke as though his word wasn’t trustworthy enough. It may have been a long time since anyone didn’t bend to his whim but it had been even longer since someone had failed to take his word as gospel.

‘And what time was that?’ Austin asked.

‘About eight, eight thirty,’ Elvis replied.

‘What did you do when you got there?’ Austin probed.

‘What I always do,’ Elvis said, sighing as Austin said nothing but raised an eyebrow, ‘it was a Friday right? So I watched the new acts, had some drinks and then went into my office to do some paperwork and calls.’

‘And someone can verify that?’ Austin challenged.

‘Just about everyone who was in the damn club,’ Elvis snapped, heaving a sigh as Austin merely looked at him as if waiting for specifics, ‘Sam, Sam Thomspon, my bartender. He was on that night so I guess he can verify I was there.’

‘What time did you leave?’ Austin said, jotting another note on his piece of paper.

‘About one am,’ Elvis said.

‘Alone?’ Austin challenged.

‘No,’ Elvis said with contempt, ‘I have drivers. And bodyguards.’

‘And their names?’ Austin asked.

‘Haven't you already spoken to my entire staff?’ Elvis scoffed, rolling his eyes as Austin failed to bite once more, ‘Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West.’

‘And they left with you?’ Austin asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you go?’ Austin asked.

‘Home,’ Elvis replied, his eyes flicking to the pen that had stalled, curious as to why his answer was not immediately being jotted down in the file in front like all the others.

‘You didn’t drop them off first?’ he asked. Elvis scoffed, ‘they wouldn't be good bodyguards if they left me on my own now would they.’

‘Guess not,’ Austin smiled, with a glint in his eye that Elvis didn’t care for. Neither was the way he added another layer of suspicion as he asked, ‘and they’ll verify this?’

‘Yes,’ Elvis grunted.

Austin nodded, flicking through his file for a second before he looked at his colleague, the lawyer and then back at Elvis as if he was checking they were all listening before he started, whatever question he wanted to ask appearing significant though Elvis didn’t know why as it was only, ‘how long did it take you?’

‘What?’ Elvis asked. The questions had been trivial enough but this seemed to border on the edge of banality. Like he wanted Elvis to spell every single detail out for him. He could tell by the accent that this Butler guy was not a native Memphian and so he might not know the streets well enough to guess but he was getting sick of having to hold the guy’s hand through this entire process. Whenever he’d dealt with Memphis’ boys in blue before it had never been this formal. Over the years there’d been cursory visits but it was normally uniforms who took his word at face value. Anything else was usually dealt with by the Colonel who normally spared him facing the inside of a police station unless it was being angled as a publicity stunt. Now he was starting to sweat, beads of perspiration forming between his shirt and his hairline as piercing blue eyes watched him.

‘That time of night it's got to be ten, fifteen minutes max to get from the club to your house right?’ Austin asked.

‘I guess,’ Elvis said, trying to keep his wariness from his tone.

‘But you left the club at one ten am, we got that from your CCTV, yet your gate camera only clocked you getting back home at two fifty-three am. Where were you for an hour and forty-three minutes?’ Austin asked, his eyes set on Elvis’ face. But it wasn’t just him watching him. Everyone was and he suddenly realised this was not what he’d thought it was. He wasn’t holding this guy’s hand; this guy was laying the foundations to trip Elvis up.

He didn’t know why he’d been so stupid. Annoyed sure but that was because trouble never usually hung around this long. Problems in Elvis Presley's world were dealt with the moment they raised their head. Sure people asked questions but they usually knew it wasn’t worth digging any deeper than the surface level. Of course he had heard this Butler guy had been digging but he had figured it was just because he was too green to know better. Too ambitious, he’d had lower-level guys in the club like it before. They just needed to be put in their place. Now it was too late because he’d got him boxed into a corner. And both of them knew it.

It was why he didn’t probe. He just sat there, allowing the silence to fester until one of them got uncomfortable enough to speak. Only it was Elvis’ lawyer who hesitated first, mumbling to his client, ‘if you could explain that it’d help.’

Elvis cleared his throat and sniffed, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance as he shrugged and said, ‘we went for burgers.’

‘Where?’ Austin asked pointedly.

‘Louie’s.’

‘And your friends, sorry bodyguards, will confirm that?’ Austin asked.

‘Yes,’ Elvis said.

‘Hmm,’ Austin said dismissively and though he was trying to remain cool Elvis couldn’t help but bite, grunting a ‘what?’ before he could stop himself.

‘Nothing,’ Austin said casually, ‘it's just I don’t see how you had the time.’

‘An hour is plenty of time to get a burger,’ Hank the lawyer protested.

‘Maybe but it's not enough time when you’re across town murdering someone,’ Ausitn challenged.

‘You think I murdered the kid?’ Elvis scoffed.

‘I’m sure you did,’ Austin said, leaning forward in his seat, ‘in fact I think you saw Tony leave his shift at one and you followed him home. Now admittedly he stopped for a pizza so whether you headed back to his place and waited or sat outside the pizza parlour I’m not sure but I’m sure you showed up at his apartment. And when you knocked on the door and he opened it and saw his boss, well, who wouldn’t invite them in. He even gave you a drink.’

‘Speculation,’ Hank protested.

‘Not exactly,’ Austin corrected, ‘you see we have your fingerprints on a half-drunk glass of scotch in Tony's apartment and considering it wasn’t moved it’s safe to assume it was being used just before he died.’

Again the silence festered, a satisfied Austin not bothering to prod as the blows landed better than he’d anticipated. But John must’ve been feeling uncomfortable which prompted him to ask, ‘can you explain that?’

‘Maybe he doesn’t clean his glasses very often,’ Elvis said.

‘So you were there at some point?’ Austin challenged, suppressing a smirk at the irritated grunt Elvis made, ‘or am I to believe that he left two glasses of whiskey on the side for what a week? A month? That he never touched or moved them leaving your prints perfectly unsmudged? The same way I’m supposed to believe that he left his freshly bought pizza on the side or left his mail unopened. No, I think the two of you had a drink and a conversation and then for some reason you blew his brains out, which is crazy considering you didn’t even know the kid ten minutes ago.’

Elvis said nothing.

‘So come on, what happened?’ Austin probed. Elvis glared at him but Austin didn’t relent. He stared back, challenging him to say something, anything though he didn’t see what he could say that wouldn’t muddy his defence even more. After a moment Elvis muttered, ‘no comment.’

‘Oh come on!’ Austin laughed, ‘you’ve been happy to run your mouth up to now what’s the matter? Afraid you’re going to tell the truth for once? Or are you going to tell me that your prints being in the apartment of a dead guy you don’t know is all coincidence?’

Elvis stayed silent.

‘Just like you leaving right after him must be. Just like your alibi not matching all your little friends is,’ Austin smirked, leaning closer as Elvis’ gaze snapped up at the mention of an alibi. Of course he’d known that all this mounted to an alibi but he hadn't anticipated he’d be one step ahead, ‘you know we asked your pals where you were that night. And they confirmed you left together and that you went straight home. No burgers. No stopping. No nothing. Is that coincidence too?’

The room was deathly quiet and all of a sudden Elvis was feeling rueful he was such an impatient man. He hated that everyone tried to bend to his will or that no one felt as though they could make decisions for him. If he wasn't maybe they would have found a lawyer who wasn’t too scared to jump in and fix this mess. If he wasn’t maybe he wouldn’t have friends so eager to defend him in their haste they’d landed him in hot water. If he wasn’t maybe he wouldn’t have been so relaxed about this whole thing being pushed under the carpet. He wouldn’t have underestimated this detective. He wasn’t fool enough to think that the whole justice system would bend to the will of the king of Memphis but it had been so long he had become acclimatised to expecting it.

And this guy was a force to be reckoned with. No one had spoken but he kept pushing as if he could niggle something out of the other man if he kept needling, ‘let me guess it’s a coincidence the type of gun used was the same make and model of one you own.’

‘Have you got the gun?’ his lawyer asked, finally making some traction in ‘defence’.

‘No,’ Detective Melling admitted, ‘we don’t…the gun box at your house was empty.’’

‘Then I don’t see how that incriminates my client,’ Hank replied.

‘You don’t think it’s odd that the week we come looking around your clients house for a gun he owns is the same week said gun up and vanishes from your clients possession,’ Austin challenged.

‘I own a lot of guns,’ Elvis said, trying to keep his voice confident though it lacked conviction.

‘And?’ Austin asked, ‘let me guess someone else used the type of gun you have and shot a guy you don’t know after you'd been in his apartment? That sound plausible to you?’

‘I think you’ve got scraps of evidence and you’re adding them together hoping for a good story,’ Elvis spat.

‘Elvis,’ Hank warned.

‘Scraps?’ Austin rebuffed, ‘we’ve got proof you were there, the last one to see him, and he was shot with a gun just like one you own which coincidentally is missing now. Not to mention how you’ve tried to throw off the scent by being cagey as hell and yet you still haven’t managed to coordinate a decent alibi. That’s more than a good story.

‘Oh yeah and what’s the reason?’ Elvis growled, leaning forward in his seat threateningly though Austin matched him, their faces not so far apart as the tension rose, ‘why would I kill some punk kid who works for me?’

‘You tell me why you wouldn’t.’

They remained looking at one another, the ire rolling off them both until finally Austin sloped back in his chair as he looked to John awaiting him to do the rest. His partner sighed and looked to Elvis, ‘Elvis Presley I am charging you with the murder of Anthony Bowen…’

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002@sania562@caitlin1996@literally-just-elvis-fics@notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @lettersfromvenus @artlesson8892 @presleyenterprise

AUSTIN TAGS

@purejasmine @caitlin1996

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #love in trouble #Elvis Presley x ofc #austin butler #Austin butler x ofc

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shares-a-vest · 8 months ago

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@flufftober Spring Edition Day 2: Banter, Joking, Fun

wc: 650 | Rated: T | cw: None

Tags: Dad-Jokes, Steddie Dads, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson

‘Eddie Munson vs. Multi-Generational Penguin Jokes’

Eddie hums with relief as he pulls the lever on Steve’s recliner and eases himself back. A sense of relief washes over him, the pain in his lower back finally alleviating as he stretches out as far as the chair can go.

“Yes,” he hisses, closing his eyes as he palms around the side table for the latest copy of People, and readies himself for a quiet afternoon of reading.

Joanie is playing in her room and Steve is... well...

Doing something that doesn’t require hogging the squishy comfort of the recliner and allows Eddie the privacy of perusing a gossip rag free from teasing barbs.

He locates the magazine and opens his eyes, flicking to a story about Bruce Springsteen’s handsomeness and tight jeans. If he holds the magazine up to cover his face completely, he might even stay camouflaged enough that even the cats won’t bother him.

Eddie side-eyes the fridge, regretting not indulging in a cold one when his magazine knock-knocks towards him, the punched paper crinkling and warping despite his hands stiffening (and cramping) with a steel-like grip in a feeble attempt to save The Boss’s face.

He straightens up at a snail’s pace – enough to peer over the top of his magazine without completely giving up his comfort.

And sure enough, the magazine-crinkling, interrupting culprit is Joanie, smiling all too sweet in her sunshine yellow summer jumpsuit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Joanie tilts her head to the side, her sweet smile curling into something mischievous, her eyes glistening in a way that leaves Eddie shuddering at the thought he is in fact, looking in the goddamn mirror.

“Can I tell you a joke?” she says more than asks as she clasps her hands behind her back and rocks on her bare heels.

Her cheeks flush and yep – Eddie thinks he might know where this is going...

He leans on his elbow and cranes his neck to listen out for the person who surely put Joanie up to this, all the while keeping a close watch on his daughter. His eyes narrow as he catches a whispered chiding being directed at one of the cats, followed up with a shuffling that sure as hell sounds like Steve’s old man slippers scuffing on the floorboards.

“Fine,” he replies, settling back down to turn his full attention to the resident comedian, adding a huff for good measure.

Joanie grins, too pleased with herself and Eddie gulps. He won’t be able to keep up this uninterested ruse much longer if the little bean before him is going to continue looking that adorable.

“Ummm… Where do… penguins…” she begins, tearing her big eyes away as she musters up everything she can to recall the joke, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she recites, “Where do penguins go to the movies?”

Eddie tosses the magazine aside to free himself up enough to fold his arms, desperate to stifle a whimper as he pea-brain takes him back to exactly where he had heard this one before.

“Wouldn’t have a clue,” he blurts out, lying.

“The dive-in!” Joanie beams, jumping with her arms wide open at the punchline.

She chuckles away through a toothy grin that quickly fades into a frown.

“Who told ya that one?” Eddie asks, knowing the answer.

Steve first told him this joke years ago, back in Hawkins when they first started kinda-sorta-not not dating and they went to the drive-in two towns over. Back when Eddie realised the Harrington Charm also involved many lame jokes that worked a little too well on him.

“No one,” she shrugs, turning to the hall.

They both look up to find Steve poking his head out from Joanie’s room.

“He didn’t laugh!” Joanie all but screams.

“What!” Steve replies in disbelief, stepping out into the open, “But that one’s a classic.”

#fluffspring2024 #day 2 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie dads #steddie as girl-dads #okay back on a posting schedule for these now

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fennfromthefen · 3 months ago

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FFF prompt 268: fractured forms

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Marley stared deep into the eyes reflected in the mirror. The eyes he was sure weren't his. He tried pulling at the skin surrounding them, moulding them into different shapes. He tried adjusting the colour of the irises, but none particularly stood out to him. Marley started to pull faces at himself, scrutinising each one.

It couldn't have been that long since he'd used his true form. Maybe a few years, tops. He'd just gotten so used to this current one, busy fitting in with the local species.

He tried using cat-like pupils, before abruptly acquiring a new fear. He decided to stay away from cats for a while.

Charlie and Joan were watching from behind Marley, occasionally saying the quick 'Why don't you try changing the nose?', or 'Sorry', in Charlie's case. Charlie had been the one to start this confusion, asking Marley to show them his "true form", "the natural, real one. Not one of the fake ones". He muttered another sorry when Marley let out a groan, 'Charles, either shush or please help.’

'Right- Um... Sorry. Forget what I said! That's a good suggestion; well done, Charlie.' The others gave him a glare. 'Hair? You could get rid of the mullet?’

Marley's borrowed eyes wandered down the reflection to his mullet, currently neatly tucked behind his ears. His mullet. It wasn't even supposed to be a mullet; he just couldn't be bothered to get it cut. But it was still his. He looked at Joan, 'Joanie?’

'Kill it.’

'Joan. I meant to say Joan,' Marley replied quickly, brushing the hair back.

'Who'd you base this look off? Couldn't you find someone you think looks cool then shapeshift to look like them?’

'Then I would look like them, not me. And, if you must know, this look was made by random selection. You close your eyes, open them after changing things. Picked whatever looked good, y'know?’

Joan looked him up and down. 'Do that again, then. Until you find one "right" again.’

'But what if I lose the hair?’

'What is it with you and that hair?’

The hair was the only part of Marley's look that wasn't picked out. It wasn't the outfit he'd stolen from a shop when he'd first arrived without any of the planet's currencies, it wasn't the body type he'd picked to suit the clothes, it wasn't the features he'd gone through different combinations of, trying to find at least one he'd liked. It had grown on its own, changed colour from the sun on its own, and fallen in a certain style on its own. It was real, and it was Marley's. And it would stay Marley's. Marley decided against answering with that paragraph, 'I think it just looks cool.’

#writblr #flash fiction #flash fiction friday #original writing #creative writing #my writing #fff268 #its nearly 4am v.v

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julesthequirky · 2 years ago

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Brat - Chapter One

Brat

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: John’s not your dad and nor does he want to be, which is fine by you. But what he does believe in is disciplining the unruly. As your mother’s ex and technically your closest father figure, John takes it upon himself to fix your behavior and attitude, but you’re not having any of it and decide to fight his efforts every step of the way.

Pairings/Characters: Step Brother!Sam x Step Sister!Reader, Step Brother!Dean x Step Sister!Reader, Step Dad!John Winchester x Step Daughter!Reader, Claire x Reader, Mr. Novak x Reader, Jack, OFC Joanie.

Chapter Warnings: Bratty reader, mentions of drug use, sex toy, cussing, John being John. (Yes, this is a tamer chapter, but chapters after will be significantly wilder).

W/C: 1548

A/N: Honestly thought this was going to come out much later, as I've been juggling uni work in the day and fanfic at night, with two other fics vying for attention :P. Chapters may be sporadic as I continue to juggle for the next few weeks, and after that, I'll attempt some kind of writing routine.

A/N 2: I've had this idea for sometime all stemming from *one* scene with John, inspired by the awesome @cockslutpadalecki, with her All The Good Girls Go To Hell series.

Giggling, you stumbled to the door, sliding the key into the lock. The metal scraped, the key turning until it clicked. Your hand gripped the handle and pulled it down. Opening the door, you stepped in. Biting your lip to keep quiet, you quietly shut the door.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, and you shut your eyes. Crap.

“She stinks, Joanie!”

The giggle slipped out.

A hand yanked you into the light. The brightness seared into your retinas, and immediately you covered them, but a larger, stronger hand pulled yours down. They grasped your chin, and John’s thunderous face stared daggers. Your eyes flitted from side to side. He was spoiling your buzz.

“She’s fucking high, Joanie. Bloodshot eyes.”

He let you go, disgust written all over his face. You backed away as he turned to your mom.

“I tried, John. You know this.”

“Well, clearly you didn’t! Enough’s enough, now. She comes with me.”

Your mother nodded.

“Mom, what the fuck—”

A large hand cracked across your cheek, snapping your face to one side.

“John!!”

You cupped your stinging cheek with both hands. Fuck, hopefully, he hadn’t split anything. You gingerly checked, dabbing a finger to your lip. You couldn’t feel any wetness, just a soft, plump lip.

“She doesn’t respect you, and you continue to let this happen. We had a deal, and you agreed, Joanie. And now’s it’s time.”

“She’s eighteen… there’s nothing I can do.”

“That’s a piss poor excuse, and you know it. You just could never be bothered to discipline her.”

“She’s difficult—”

“Welcome to parenting.”

John turned to you at that point. “Go get your stuff.”

No way. No way in Hell were you going with him. You shook your head.

“Get your stuff.” His voice turned stern.

Still, you held your ground.

“Y/N, do as he says.”

“Mom, what the— No.” You responded, biting your tongue.

“Do it, baby. It’ll only be for a short while.”

You noticed it. In her eyes. In her posture. Defeat.

“You’ve just given up, haven’t you? You’re gonna let him take me away. Your only daughter!”

You didn’t wait for her answer and stomped away, buzz well and truly gone, replaced by anger.

Bitch.

You slammed your door and stewed. John could fuck off. Maybe you could kip at the Novak’s. Castiel wouldn’t mind, and it meant smoking more green.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and dialled Mr Novak’s number. The number rang, once then twice. A knock on your door had you jumping and cutting the call short.

“What?”

“You nearly done?”

It was John.

“Pfft, I’ve only just got up here.”

“Just get clothes for tonight and tomorrow. Joan— your mother, will bring them tomorrow.”

There was so much you wanted to say, yell, and scream at him, but instead, you stayed insolent, stewing. No way in Hell were you going. He would have to drag you out, kicking and screaming.

“You’ve got five minutes.”

Fuck your five minutes. “Whatever.”

“I mean it.”

You said nothing to that, mockingly mouthed, ‘I mean it.’ Hah. Sure. That’s what your mother always said, but nothing ever came of it. Instead of packing, you flopped on your bed, one leg leaning on the other as you scrolled through the bird app.

John was your mother’s ex. She’d met him at a bar. No change there. But he didn’t seem to be one of your mother’s bad choices. Your mother had notoriously bad taste in men, always attracting the losers and never managing to shake them because they always came back around. But John was different. He was a retired marine with two adult kids, whom you barely saw, who ran his household with an iron fist, and to a twelve-year-old with no routine, it was fucking Hell.

He didn’t pretend to be your dad, and you got the distinct impression that he didn’t want to be. But for a man who didn’t want to be your father, he demanded respect and authority, which you fought at every step of the way.

He lasted the longest – three years. Ultimately it was probably due to your aversion to John’s authority that broke the relationship. You just wouldn’t bend to his will, and your mother would always let you off, excusing your behaviour.

You lost track of time, and an alarm rang outside your room. You expected him to knock and to tell you again, and a slight smirk curved your lips, thinking you’d won. But it caught you off guard when the door crashed open, the handle bouncing off the wall, and your smirk cut quicker than a dying orgasm.

“What the fuck!!” You yelled, jumping up as he barged in.

“Are you packed?”

The simple question roused your anger. He seriously needed to get into his head that you weren’t going. Shaking your head, you turned away from him and laid back, resuming doom scrolling.

“Y’know, I really hoped you weren’t gonna be difficult and that you were gonna be reasonable. I now know that was a futile mistake to make.”

You rolled your eyes.

Coming out of nowhere, a hand snatched the phone from your grasp. You whipped your head around to see John pocketing the gadget.

“You’ll get this back after good behaviour and not before.”

Shooting up, you attempted to steal it back, but he slapped your hand away and pointed at you.

“Don’ you start with me lil girl. I will tan your hide.”

With that, he left you standing by your bed as he circled your room and almost ripped a drawer from its hinges as he yanked it open.

“Hey, what the Hell!”

John ignored you, throwing something at you. Bending down, you picked it up. A t-shirt. A god ugly one at that too. He continued on his rampage, opening drawers and throwing garments at you.

“You didn’t do this in the timely manner I set for you, so now you get to watch me pack for you.”

“That’s a breach of privacy!”

He spun around, holding the expensive black rabbit you’d gifted yourself for your eighteenth.

“Does your momma know you own this?”

The blood froze in your veins, and your mouth hung agape. He did not regard your privacy, and more clothes dropped by your feet. He threw the toy back into the drawer, grabbed a tote bag hanging on a bedpost, and shoved clothes inside.

“Consequences. Ever heard of ‘em? No? Well, darlin’, you’re about to get well acquainted.”

He easily picked you up, lifting you over his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around your legs.

The fuck!

“Let me go!! Get off me!!!”

You kicked a little in a futile attempt to loosen his grip, but John ignored this, grabbed your bag and carried you to the front door.

“Goodbye, Joanie.”

“No, wait. Mom! Mom!! Mom!!!” You shouted, heart-wrenching, as John walked out towards the car. Waiting for her to show, you repeatedly called her name, and by the time you were in the car, the front door had been shut.

How could your mom just let this man take you away without putting up a fight? The tears are hot as they cascade down your cheeks, and you angrily wipe them away. You’d done nothing to warrant this reaction from John. In fact, you were a perfectly well-adjusted teenager, or at least that’s what you thought. Sure, you smoked, drank and partied a little more than your mother would like, but wasn’t that what all the kids were doing these days? You had aspirations, just like any teenager. Admittedly, yours happened to be a little more risque than your peers, but playing it safe was for losers.

You wanted to be a Playboy Playmate. Of course, you hadn’t mentioned this to the guidance councillor or your mom. God, they’d lose their ever-loving shit if they found out. No, you threw college names in their faces and hoped for the best.

John slowed to a stop, and you looked at his house in contempt. Ugh. His door slammed shut, shaking the car a little. He rapped on the window with his knuckle, and you begrudgingly unclipped your belt as John opened the door.

Once inside, John stopped you in your tracks, dropping the bag of clothes by your feet.

“Let me lay it out for you. No friends, no boys, no cussing, no drinking and no drugs. Breakfast’s at six. And if it weren’t obvious before, you’re grounded. The concept may be foreign to you, so let me spell it out. It means you can’t go see your little friends after school or during the weekends. Now get your ass to bed. First bedroom on the left.”

You stood by the stairs, arms ramrod straight, hands curled tightly into fists, glaring daggers at him, heaving in breaths as a splitting headache worked its way into your right temple.

He chuckled softly, a soft glint in his eye as though he were enjoying himself. “You can be mad at me all you want, sweetheart, but it won’t get you anywhere.”

You bent down, snatched the bag of clothes he threw together and stomped upstairs. Then, a moment later, you slammed the door in protest.

Fuck fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. Shit. Fuck, fuck fuck, shit, shit, fuck, fuck!

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