#pleasant surprise in my bio study guide

[margaritaduck]

[catflorist]

SasuSaku Month 2020, Day 13: Miso Soup Summary: Sakura didn’t know what gave her the urge to tease him so much. But she didn’t want to stop. And besides, he started it. When Sakura gets locked out of her college dorm, she meets a boy named Sasuke who gives her miso soup. College AU Fluff. Rating: T

A Meal and a Pen

For the fourth time that hour, Ino reminded her that a boy was coming over.

“Again, I promise I won’t be here,” Sakura said.

Someone knocked at the door. Ino leapt up from the kitchen table. “Thanks, Sakura. Now get lost.”

From her seat in the kitchen, Sakura heard Ino greet Shikamaru, a fellow first-year student. Their footsteps faded down the twisted hallway to the suite’s common room. Sakura gathered her things and dropped them by the door. Before she could reach for her shoes, another knock sounded.

Sakura opened the door and stepped into the hallway in time to catch their RA disappearing around the corner. She bent to pick up a crumpled flyer at her doorstep.

The door swung shut behind her and locked with the sweetest click.

Sakura tried the handle. Ino and Sakura never locked their door—a bad habit—but now the handle refused to budge under her urgent hand.

 “Ino?” she called, knocking at the door. But it seemed Ino had already retreated to the bedroom.

Sakura inspected the flyer. It read: AUTOMATIC LOCKS INSTALLED! KEEP KEYS ON HAND AT ALL TIMES.

It’s okay, she reminded herself. I can borrow a spare key. The flyer wisely listed the location of a lock-out and access services desk, only a five-minute walk away.

Sakura took one step and recognized a bigger issue. She stared down at her socked feet, pink to match her hair.

“Fu—” she started.

“Locked out?” a bored voice interrupted.

Twirling around, Sakura met eyes with a familiar dark-haired boy. He held a large container of soup in one hand and a bowl in the other. Despite speaking to her first, his face radiated disinterest—as if she had interrupted his soup-making with her misfortune. The way he held the container was somehow arrogant. Sakura thought about it and decided something about the tension of his wrist achieved this effect. She couldn’t place where she had seen him before, and this bothered her, because he was cute: deep, black eyes under serious brows, full lips arranged in a way she had trouble ignoring.

“I’m not locked out,” Sakura insisted. “Well, I’m a little locked out. My roommate’s home. But she—you know....” She grimaced, scratching the back of her calf with her socked foot, suddenly shy. She met the boy’s pointed gaze and wondered if he was going to make her elaborate. Surely, he knew what she meant.

The boy waited, watching her discomfort with rising amusement.

 “…She is indisposed,” Sakura continued, “and I’m going to have to wait for her to let me in. I’m Sakura, by the way.”

“I know,” the boy said. At Sakura’s wide eyes, he scrambled to add, “I mean, you’re in my biology class. And I live on this floor.”

“Oh,” Sakura said, fighting her grin as she watched the boy’s cool exterior falter.

She definitely recognized him now. They had passed each other in the stairwell countless times. She had spotted his dark hair disappearing into a single down the hall. Once he had held the door for her in the lecture hall and did not respond to her word of thanks.

“I’m going to heat up my soup,” he muttered, with an expression like he had tasted sour milk.

“Right,” Sakura said. “Of course.” But he didn’t walk away yet.

He cast a glum look at Sakura, then down the hallway. “If you’re waiting in the lounge…I have enough for two. Since you can’t go anywhere else.” He gestured to her lack of shoes with his bowl.

Sakura hadn’t yet considered her next steps. Lacking shoes, keys, a phone, and money, her options were limited. She blinked. “Oh! I guess I have to wait somewhere. That would be really nice.” The boy straightened at these words. “Thank you, uh….?” Sakura trailed off. He hadn’t introduced himself.

“Sasuke.”

“Thanks, Sasuke,” she said. Why was his name familiar?

He said, “I’ll get a bowl for you.”

-x-

In the communal lounge, Sasuke set down two bowls and poured Sakura’s soup first, fishing in the container to dredge up the right proportions of tofu and seaweed.

“Thank you,” she said, waiting for him to sit. He gestured for her to go ahead.

Sakura took a tentative sip. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it was not this.

“Did you make this?” she asked gravely.

Sasuke nodded. “I made it last night.” He sat and pulled his own bowl closer.

Sakura took another long sip. “Really?”

“Yes,” he confirmed again, over the sound of a loud slurp.

“It tastes just like my mom’s cooking,” Sakura announced, with a flourish of her spoon. “Now I’m almost glad I got sexiled and locked out.” Sakura blushed then, remembering that she had only just formally met Sasuke, and as they had exchanged very few words, maybe it was not wise to allude to such carnal activities. But he was so quiet, and Sakura felt the need to fill the silence. And his stern eyes were a little disarming.

Sasuke asked, “Does this happen a lot?”

“It’s never happened before,” Sakura said. “Apparently, my door locks automatically now. And it’s safe to say that I’m not handling it very well.”

“I’ll plan to make more soup for next time,” Sasuke said, straight-faced, so Sakura didn’t catch the tease at first.

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “I agree. Just to be safe.”

The corners of Sasuke’s lips twitched into a smile. Sakura tucked her legs under herself on the chair. They finished their miso soup in a satisfied silence.

“I skip biology a lot,” Sasuke admitted in answer to a question she hasn’t asked.

Sakura was wondering about that. “Then I won’t bring up the midterm next week.”

Sasuke grimaced.

“We could study together,” Sakura suggested. “If you like. After all, I have nowhere to be.”

Sasuke considered this offer. He left and came back with his textbook. Sakura led him through the unit covered on the midterm, talking through each concept. Sasuke nodded along but didn’t ask any questions. He just listened to her. Sakura tried not to blush at his focused attention.

Eventually, Sasuke shut the textbook. “What are you doing in this class?”

Sakura blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re smart,” he said bluntly. “You’re clearly ahead of the other first-years. You should be in upper-level classes already.”

“Oh. Well, I am,” Sakura explained. “Last semester, I completed upper-level classes. And I’m taking more now. But the department changed its mind about me skipping this particular bio pre-requisite.”

Sasuke nodded smugly, his suspicions of her intelligence confirmed.

Sakura asked, “What are you studying?”

He shrugged, bored by the question. “I’m not a great student.” Then his mouth quirked. “I bet you’ve never even skipped class.” 

Sakura smiled at his mocking tone. “I’m not interested in wasting my tuition money.”

“Teacher’s pet.”

“What a shame,” Sakura sighed. “I made this big biology study guide…” Sasuke perked up. “…which I might have considered sharing, were it not for this blatant disrespect.”

“I don’t want your color-coded study guide,” he assured her.

Sakura turned up her nose. “You can’t just assume things about people, Sasuke.”

He smirked. “How many highlighters do you own? Thirty?”

“I own a diverse set of stationary, for the record. I actually believe in spare highlighter usage…but colorful pens, for that matter—”

Sasuke’s smirk deepened.

Sakura changed course. “You’re just jealous, because you probably take awful notes.” She looked him over. “In fact, I bet your handwriting is terrible.”

Sakura didn’t know what gave her the urge to tease him so much. But she didn’t want to stop. And besides, he started it.

“Tch.” Sasuke rolled his eyes.

“I knew it.”

“Fine, let’s see,” Sasuke challenged, pulling out a pen from his pocket. He turned over Sakura’s forearm and smoothed over the future canvas with his fingertips. “What should I write?”

With his light touch on her pulse, Sakura could not concentrate. “Hmm?”

Chair legs scraped the ground, and Sasuke was sitting next to her. He grasped the inner crook of her elbow with his right hand and with his left scratched out a phrase on her skin. Sakura could not help but notice the pleasant way his long lashes curled above the arch of his cheekbones.

Sasuke stopped writing. His head tilted, and he looked at her. And then—at her lips. Sakura’s breath caught.

A familiar sound from the hallway snapped Sakura out of her reverie.

“That’s Ino,” she gasped, shooting out of her chair. Every other part of her screamed in dismay at the interruption. “I need to catch her.” Sakura ran into the hallway just as closing elevator doors muffled the sound of Ino’s laughter.

“Stairs,” Sasuke called. Sakura pivoted and flew down the stairwell, Sasuke’s footsteps close behind her. In between the third and second floors, the combination of Sakura’s speed and her pink socks on the smooth steps transmuted traction into ice. Sakura slipped backwards with a yelp, smashing her elbow against the railing.

Something interrupted her fall. With stunning reflexes, Sasuke had managed to grab her shoulders before she risked cracking her head on the steps.

“Ow,” Sakura cried, rubbing her elbow. She let out a curse.

“You don’t look like a person who curses,” Sasuke commented, releasing her. Without consulting each other, they both dropped to sit on the steps, the chase forgotten.

“What did I say about assumptions?” Sakura chided, leaning against the railing. “Okay—new plan. Maybe the desk attendant can help us?” She paused, realizing she had presumed Sasuke’s involvement. Though he had run after her on the steps. “Or—I can do that—and you can go back to your soup, or whatever else you do.”

Massaging her elbow, Sakura twisted her arm around, and for the first time, saw what Sasuke had scrawled on her skin. His name: Uchiha Sasuke. And then: his number.

Sakura’s mouth slackened in surprise. Sasuke crossed his arms.

Sakura traced the scrawl on her arm with a flutter in her stomach. “You do have terrible handwriting.”

She smiled at Sasuke.

-x-

The desk attendant did not help.

“I’ll need your ID to loan you a key,” he drawled.

“I don’t have my ID,” Sakura said.

“If you don’t have your ID, you’ll need to take this process to the lock-out and access services desk across campus.”

“I don’t have shoes,” Sakura said kindly.

“I don’t make the rules.”

 “Well, thanks for your help,” Sakura said. She made a move towards the stairs.

“I’ll need to see your ID if you plan on re-entering the building,” the attendant said.

“I haven’t left the building,” Sakura reminded him.

 “Again, not my policy.”

“I’m happy to follow your policy,” Sakura said kindly. “But I’ll need to go upstairs, and borrow my friend’s shoes, so I can re-enter the place I pay to live.”

The attendant leaned back in his swivel chair and closed his eyes, trapping them firmly in bureaucratic purgatory.

Sakura gave Sasuke a look.

Without a sound, Sasuke pulled out the pen from his pocket and put a finger to his lips. Sakura frowned. Then Sasuke lobbed the pen in a graceful arc. It collided hard enough against the glass entrance of the building that the resulting clang disrupted the desk attendant.

Sakura gaped. It was masterful.

“HEY!” the desk attendant called, scurrying to the entrance.

Sakura grabbed Sasuke’s hand. They half-sprinted, half-stumbled up all five flights of stairs, collapsing on the top step. Sakura clutched her stomach, giddy with suppressed laughter, and Sasuke fought back a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“You were amazing,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Sasuke told her, “I was wrong about you. You’re not just a teacher’s pet.”

“What am I, then?” Sakura asked, still panting.

He considered. “You’re dangerous.”

Sakura did not know who reached out for whom. One moment, they sat breathless next to each other in the empty stairwell. The next, their lips were meeting in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, Sakura’s fingers already laced through Sasuke’s hair, Sasuke’s arms encircling her waist. Enjoying this unforeseen turn to her day, Sakura’s teeth pulled on his lower lip. A small, strangled noise escaped Sasuke’s throat. He moved as if to tug her into his lap. A thrill shot through Sakura’s whole body. She let his hands guide her—

“Sakura? Sasuke?” a voice sounded.

They shot apart. A column of orange towered over them.

“Huh.” Naruto beamed at them. “I didn’t know you two have met.”

-x-

The three of them convened together in Sasuke’s small single. Sasuke perched in his desk chair while Sakura sat cross-legged on his bed next to Naruto.

It turns out, Naruto and Sasuke were old childhood friends, still bound at the hip and attending the same college. Meanwhile, Sakura and Naruto had grown close throughout the semester. She tutored him in chemistry, and he dragged her out to get ramen and drinks. Seeing them together, Sakura connected the dots and remembered the countless times Naruto had mentioned his childhood friend to her over the past few months:

“I think you’d get along well with this old friend of mine.”

“I tried to convince my friend Sasuke to get ramen with us tonight but he’s too busy brooding.”

“I’m stressed for midterms. I wish I could live like Sasuke who has never studied a day in his life. Bastard.”

Now, Naruto could not stop laughing. He laughed throughout Sakura’s retelling of the past few hours. He laughed when he saw the handwriting on Sakura’s forearm. He laughed harder at Sasuke’s dangerous scowl and bent over at the sight of his pink ears.

Wiping a tear, he said, “I’ve never seen you go after a girl like this.”

Sasuke grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

“I actually don’t think I’ve ever seen you try so hard for anything in your life.”

“Shut up, dobe.”

Sakura watched the exchange, both horrified and flattered.

Naruto turned to her. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, kissing my idiot friend?”

Sakura struggled to think of something to say that would both entertain Naruto and ensure that Sasuke would kiss her again.

Eventually she shrugged. “He gave me soup and sacrificed his pen. What else could I do?”

Sasuke stopped drumming his fingers on his knee. He was pleased.

“Hopeless,” Naruto said. But he was smiling.

The three friends talked. The room grew dark, and Sasuke turned on the weak lamp at his bedside. They talked more, until Sakura was blinking hard to stay awake.

Naruto sprang out of Sasuke’s bed, stretching so wide that his body occupied half the square footage of Sasuke’s room. “I need to go home,” he yawned. “Farewell, lovebirds.”

“Bye, Naruto,” Sakura called.

Sasuke made a derisive noise, concluding his goodbye.

As the door swung closed, Sakura said, “I should go, too. Wait.” She laughed. “I’m still locked out.”

“Maybe your roommate’s back now,” Sasuke said. Neither of them moved.

“Help me up,” Sakura said. She reached for Sasuke. He stood and clasped both her hands, pulling her onto her feet. Sakura let the momentum swing her body much closer to him than necessary. He did not move away.

“Thank you for helping me today,” she muttered into the sudden quiet.

Sasuke said, gaze lowered, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while.” She remembered the tone of his voice when he first spoke to her that evening—bored, uncaring. This must not be the easiest thing for him to admit.

Sakura shifted her weight onto her toes. This small movement was all she needed to close the gap between them. She pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his mouth.

“I’m glad you did,” she said. Sasuke’s hands on hers tightened.

“Let me walk you home,” he said.

The walk down the hallway was short. Sakura knocked on her own door, and Ino opened it.

“Sakura! I was wondering where you were.”

“Thank goodness you’re here, Ino,” Sakura laughed.

“You left your phone and keys—oh.” Ino noticed the gloomy figure behind Sakura and smiled wide.

“I locked myself out. I’m a mess tonight,” Sakura sighed. “But Sasuke-kun here helped me out.”

“How nice,” Ino said, still smiling.

To Sasuke, Sakura said, “We’ll talk later?” She tapped her arm with a small smile. Ino’s eyes tracked the movement.

Sasuke nodded at her, then nodded at Ino, and left without any particular fanfare.

Inside their own suite, Ino flipped over Sakura’s arm.

“Hah!” she cried.

“It’s been a long night,” Sakura said. She could not stop smiling.

She owed Sasuke a meal and a pen.

.

.

.

. Note: this was a lot of fun to write, and pretty different from what I've explored so far--dialogue heavy and (hopefully) humorous. please let me know what you think of this writing style and tone! is more college au something you're interested in seeing? If you want to read more sasusaku from me, please check out the rest of my SasuSaku Month 2020 series, and also The Garden, a post-canon blank period fic which I'm very proud of (on my AO3). thank you for reading!!!

[hoodoo12]

Model Behavior (1/?)

“Writers who start rping slow down writing stories” is a cross to bear, let me tell you. But rping is enjoyable and I recommend it! Here’s a shorter one the incomparable @turtlepated and I did a few months ago. It was an incredible amount of fun and a nice character study, set a bit after the Maitlands have settled into the fact that they are kind of stuck with Beetlejuice  and have gotten more comfortable with him around.  The Maitlands are good people. We should all be so lucky to have people like them in our lives.  SFW but more on the slightly mature side. Contains elements of the movie, but is musical based. 

Enjoy! ~ 

Bored and looking for trouble, Beetlejuice sidled up to the only other male ghost in the house. "Good to see you again, Sexy. Your, ah, wife--Babs--the old ball and chain--she around anywhere? Wanna show me your models? I bet your hands are real strong and you have lots of dexterity . . .!"

He shouldn’t startle as much as he did, but Adam yelped involuntarily as Beetlejuice appeared out of nowhere behind him too close for comfort. He cleared his throat, to try to play it off like it was nothing.  

"Oh, Barbara's probably downstairs with Lydia in the dark room. Did you want to see the model? I just got in some nice wainscoting! It's perfectly to-scale and it'll look great on the house!" He frowned as he processed what was actually said, examining his own hands and flexing his fingers "Dexterity? I suppose so?" With a Cheshire Cat grin, Beetlejuice left him without another word, for Adam to ponder over the brief interaction.

⁂

"Adam? Sexy? Where are you?! You were going to show me your model!"

"I’m up in the attic!" the ghost replied automatically, then paused, with a double take that turned suspicious. "Why did you say 'model' like that?"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it, Sexy. I just really like to watch your hands work. They're so nimble and so careful, and you're so attentive when you're working. I like your focus."

Adam smiled and couldn't help but relax and preen a bit. "Well, I . . . that is, thank you, Beetlejuice. I don't like to brag, but I do take a lot of pride in my work. You can help, if you'd like. Lydia said they're restoring some of the more run-down parts of downtown, so I'm redoing the buildings. Want to get in on the action?"

Oh. He wasn't expecting that! 

"I-I-I don't know, Adam," Beetlejuice replied, backpedaling a bit. "I've never done anything like that, I don't want to mess up anything . . ." Beetlejuice looked at his hands, with the grime and chipped black nails, then shoved them into his pockets, ashamed.

Adam tutted good-naturedly, "Nonsense, there's nothing to it, really! The models are built, so really I'm just repainting the exteriors. You could manage that, don't you think? And if you need help, I'd be happy to oblige!"

This sounded less and less like a good idea. 

"I don't . . . I'll just mess it up," he repeated, quietly. He stared at the model so he didn't have to look at the man who seemed excited about the help. "I've seen the tiny paint brushes you use, and I know how expensive the paints can be because you so kindly told me about it when I drank one, remember? I think it'd be best if I just . . . didn't."

He gave a quick, tight smile at the memory of coming upstairs to see Beetlejuice chugging the small jar of paint like a shot. He wasn't used to seeing the specter so . . . unexpectedly withdrawn, but rather than press him about it he simply shrugged. 

"That's perfectly fine. If you'd rather just watch, you're welcome to."

This was not how he'd expected this to go. Beetlejuice pursed his lips, and wondered if he should just leave. Maybe he could come back later and leave all this 'painting the model' stuff behind. But a sudden thought came to him. 

"What if you helped me? You know, how people show other people how to swing a golf club, or play pool?"

Adam blinked once, twice, processing the query and all the connotations. 

"You mean like . . . you hold the brush, I hold your wrist and show you how to use it?"

Shockingly, surprisingly, the idea of it didn't appall him. Far from it, maybe? All his interactions with the self proclaimed bio-exorcist had been . . . one-sided, to put it politely. Beetlejuice was obviously a sponge for all forms of attention, and in the absence of freely given positive attention he made do with whatever he could get by any means necessary. 

"Well, hang on," he said, stopping the specter, who’d turned to leave, in his tracks. "We can give it a try, see how it goes. It's fiddly work, so maybe a helping hand would be better." 

To cement his point, Adam took on of the fine bristled brushes and dipped it into the small pot of paint, holding the handle out invitingly towards Beetlejuice.

He blinked, owlishly, at the offered brush. He never expected his ridiculous suggestion to be taken seriously, and now . . . he discovered he did want to try. With Adam's help, of course. He gave a quick nod and took the wooden handle of the brush. 

"If you want Jackson Pollock, I can definitely do that. Anything else, and you're going to have to help," he reminded him.

Adam took a step back, allowing Beetlejuice to approach the work table, chuckling at the half-hearted joke. 

"You'll do just fine," he assured the demon, stepping up a little closer behind him. "Keep a light hold on the brush, like you're holding a pencil." 

Beetlejuice adjusted his fingers but the grip still wasn't quite there, so Adam reached forward, tentative at first to make a few changes to the set of the brush in his grasp. 

"There now, we're ready to go! Don't think about it too hard, you just want gentle strokes, just to get the paint where you want it." 

He demonstrated first with his own hand, miming holding a brush and making fluid sweeping motions, keeping his wrist loose.

It was difficult not to squeeze the brush tightly, and his first efforts showed the reason he was instructed not to: the paint was splotchy and uneven. Nothing like the other paint jobs Adam had already completed. He tried again, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated, but it wasn't as easy as Adam made it look.

Adam smiled broadly, feeling an unexpected surge of pride in his unusual pupil. 

"Not bad, not bad!" he assured him, seeing Beetlejuice's frown at the uneven coat. "We can just go over it again with a second layer, it'll be fine." 

Taking Beetlejuice by the wrist, he guided the brush to the paint pot for a fresh load of paint and back to the tiny model building. 

"Nice, even strokes like this, see?" he asked, stepping a little closer, almost flush against the other man's back as he raised and lowered the demon's hand, painting a stripe down the side of the wall.

He didn't mind Adam taking and guiding his hand, and didn't even make it into something inappropriate as he concentrated on the painting. Even when he realized that Adam was basically standing against him, he was so invested in the it he didn't made any remarks or gestures. It was nice to just be quiet a moment and see the progress he made, even if it was sloppy.

When that side of the model was done, Adam reached around to spin the lazy Susan he had set it on so they could do the next wall without having to touch it and risk smearing Beetlejuice's handiwork. 

"See? You're getting the hang of it!" he praised. "I'm gonna let you do this part by yourself since it's smaller. Just take your time, don't worry about trying to get it perfect. Okay?"

He didn't much like the thought of that; this side was going to be much worse without Adam's guiding hand, and he did like the gentle but firm grip that had been in his wrist. But Adam looked expectant and encouraging, nodding and smiling at him, so Beetlejuice resolved to try. He loaded the brush again, realizing immediately he'd gotten too much paint on it, but did it anyway, using the short, even stroked he'd been shown.

Adam smiled, nodding approvingly. It was a little shaky, truth be told, from Beetlejuice's slightly unsteady hand, but was his first attempt after all, and it would be easy enough to touch up afterwards. What was really impressive was the demon himself. He didn't think he'd ever seen Beetlejuice be so still and quiet for this long, a furrow between his brows and his tongue gripped between his lips as he focused intently. Adam's smile widened at the realization that he was proud of the specter. 

"Nice job!" he said, and he genuinely meant it. 

Without even thinking, he leaned in and pressed a quick peck to the demon's scruffy cheek, his own eyes widening halfway through the motion but not quickly enough to abort the gesture. It was so natural for him, the sort of thing he did all the time with Barbara and Lydia when he congratulated them that it just . . . happened. If not for the fact that he was dead and no longer had blood running through his veins, Adam felt sure his face would be tomato red when he pulled away, blinking at the demon like a deer caught in headlights. 

"I . . . um . . . " he stammered lamely.

The praise startled him and made him happy. The peck on the cheek following it startled him more. Beetlejuice actually dropped the paintbrush he was holding; luckily it only fell on the lazy susan and not against anything important. Adam wore his own surprised expression, all flustered and flushed as he looked over to him. 

For once, though, he didn't have an snarky or sexually charged comment to make. Instead, he said quietly, sincerely, "That was nice . . ."

He blinked dumbly and swallowed. That was certainly unexpected. Ordinarily Beetlejuice would have responded with something like "I only do upstairs or over the pants" or any number of other racy jokes from his inexhaustible repertoire of lewd remarks and innuendo. So the soft spoken candor was . . . a pleasant surprise. Tentatively, not really sure himself just what he was trying to achieve here, Adam found himself leaning in again, watching Beetlejuice's face for a cue as to whether or not to proceed.

Gentle hands on him, praise, a kiss, and now Adam leaning in with his head slightly cocked . . . Beetlejuice was frozen for a moment, stunned dumb by everything that had happened. His instinct was to grab and hold and fondle and just go hardcore, but a tiny voice from somewhere deep inside him stilled him, asked him to wait, suggested he go against all his base reactions. So he didn't push forward, only leaned into the man's personal space, and his slightly open mouth brushed against Adam's, a soft press of lips on lips that was light years from the over the top theatrics he'd always ambushed him with. One hand went to Adam's chest, but he didn't grab or pinch. He simply left his palm flat on his chest and enjoyed the moment.

As quickly and inexplicably as it began it was over and the two men separated. Adam blinked a few times, feeling like he couldn't catch his breath. Which was silly, of course, he didn't breathe anymore, but still . . . Beetlejuice's hand was still pressed to his chest and his head tilted down to look at it as though seeing it for the first time: the long fingers and black nails. And he wasn't even groping at him or trying to grab his nipple through his shirt. 

He looked up, then, into the demon's face, taking in the apprehensive set of his brow and the way he'd pulled his lips into a tight line as though he were waiting, expecting to be pushed away, for his hand to be thrown off, to be admonished or reprimanded. But Adam . . . just didn't. 

"Yeah," he agreed, swallowing again, an awkward smile that was at least half grimace pulling his mouth into some shape. "It was nice . . . " 

Before either of them could say or do anything further, he and Beetlejuice both jerked their heads to the attic door, where they could already hear the tell-tale thunder of Lydia's big black boots coming up the staircase.

More nimbly than most people expected from him, Beetlejuice stepped away from Adam just as Lydia made it to the door and threw it open. 

"What're you two doing up here?" the teen asked. "Adam, you said you'd help me with math." 

She sighed the word dramatically, like it was a chore and a bore, which Beetlejuice totally understood. 

"Sexy wanted me to help with his model, but I am not sticking around for a nerd fest," he announced haughtily before making his way to the door too. 

It was a poor excuse, but he needed some time to process what had just happened. His poor lie was confirmed when he heard Lydia asking suspiciously, 

"You wanted him to help with your model?", but he was too far down the stairs to hear Adam's answer to that. He spent the rest of the day away from everyone else, replaying the events with Adam over and over in his head. It left him as jumbled hours later as it had when it happened. He wondered what Adam thought--

tbc . . .

[bigfan-fanfic]

Making Bad Look Good Part 2

A second part! Featuring... Two-Face, Deathstroke, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Hush, Zsasz, Klarion the Witch Boy, and the Court of Owls!

I got a ton of requests for these, and you’ve all been so helpful! This one’s for you!

Making Bad Look Good part 2 - a.k.a. another 6 Degrees of Evil Bacon

Warning: Long post ahead.

Two-Face - Harvey Dent

You met Two-Face back when he was District Attorney for Gotham.

He was no “Ce-SEAL-Your-Fate” Horton from Central City, but he was doing a bang-up job putting criminals behind bars, cracking their insanity pleas.

So you went to meet him after a case where he got the Penguin sentenced to Blackgate instead of Arkham.

Sure, he’ll probably escape, but the precedent the case sets is important.

“Mr. Wayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to meet our amazing new D.A.”

You make small talk, until you decide to ask him to lunch to congratulate him on the case.

He grins. “Okay. But we’ll flip a coin for the check. Heads, you pay. Tails, my treat.”

You shrug.

He flips a strange coin that he tells you is his lucky charm.

It comes up heads, on the side that looks like it’s been corroded.

You smirk. “That’s a double-headed coin, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Yup. Most people don’t get it so quick.”

He shakes your hand and offers to pay anyway since you were such a good sport.

After he becomes Two-Face, it’s this moment you choose to remember...

Deathstroke and Deadshot - Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton

There have been quite a few times when you were targeted by an assassin or two.

But that particular time, you were the prize for a competition between them.

Slade and Lawton had been hired to take you out, but only the actual killer would get the other half of the payment.

So one day, Deadshot is setting up the hit, angling a crazy shot to hit you through the back of the skull and bamboozle all ballistics tests. You come into range, and he shoots -

-only to see you get shoved out of the way by the eyepatch-ed Slade Wilson.

Bruce wants to sequester you in the Batcave, but instead, you tell him to set up a meeting as Batman.

It’s fun to throw money at problems.

On a rooftop, the Bat behind you, you offer Slade and Lawton double the total for your contract to give you the name of their employer and void the hit.

It’s technically against whatever assassin code there is, but you know, money tends to grease the wheels of any machine.

Deadshot takes the money and tells you it was some crackpot billionaire trying to get at Bruce. He also chuckles and says that he’s available if you ever have more money to throw and a grudge for him to carry out.

Deathstroke also takes the money and nods at you before leaving.

And while Slade comes back to torment you and your sons time and again, Floyd is actually quite pleasant. You sometimes hire him when you need security, which he calls easy money, and from that point, your husband almost never encounters him on the job...

Harley Quinn - Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

“Paging Dr. Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel, to the front desk.”

You and some other Gotham big shots were invited to Arkham for a publicity tour. Reporters are there, too, including Clark, so you feel pretty safe.

A surprisingly young woman comes to play tour guide, her hair in slight pigtails.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Currently I’m junior psychologist here at Arkham Asylum.” She has a bit of a New York accent, though you can tell she’s worked hard to soften it.

One reporter asks just how “junior” she is, and she gives an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, I graduated med school early, so I’m a bit young for a specialized doctor. But I’m also one of the only medical professionals still willing to work at Arkham, so I think that’s what counts, right?”

The tour goes well enough, until you raise your hand. “You’re the psychologist in charge of the Joker, right?”

Dr. Quinzel smiles in a strange way. “Yes, that I am.”

You frown. “And do you think, as a junior psychologist, you’re adequately prepared for him?”

“I know that I am a medical professional, Mr. Wayne, and I am certainly qualified to examine my patients.”

But Dr. Quinzel, just for a moment, looks fractured, torn. Like there’s some sort of internal war raging in her soul. But it gets absorbed in her too-wide smile.

You put it down to nerves about meeting the press, and let it go.

You always wonder if there was something you could’ve done for the woman, prevented it from all going wrong, prevented her from becoming Harley Quinn...

Poison Ivy - Dr. Pamela Isley

Pamela was going to college at about the same time you were. 

You weren’t friends, exactly, although you did both share a class in Professor Crane’s Intro Psych course (an elective for both of you).

There were a lot of rumors about her. You chose not to engage in the gossip, especially as it was a lot about her sleeping with her Biology professor for a better grade.

You had to do a project with her for your final grade, and she invited you to her apartment to work on it together.

It was full of plants. She mentions it before you have a chance to even think about bringing them up. 

“They’re my babies.” she jokes. “So much easier to take care of than pets.”

You smile. “All the oxygen probably helps you work better, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

She talks about how she’s going to be a botanist when she graduates, and she’s going to work for the EPA. She’s very self-interested, but genuine, and you have fun while working on the project.

But only a few weeks after you turn in the project, she disappears. Rumors abound about how she ran off with the Bio professor. Some say they were having an affair. Others are kinder and say they’re on a botanical conservation mission in some swamp somewhere.

Either way, you never see Pamela again.

At least, until Poison Ivy shows up in town...

(Side note: Drew Barrymore as Poison Ivy? Thoughts?)

Mr. Freeze - Dr. Victor Fries

Fries shows up one day out of nowhere

Just shooting with that cold gun.

He attacks a gala event for the Wayne Foundation and holds it up for jewelry and the cash being raised for the underprivileged of Gotham..

You glare at him. “You know you’re just taking money right out of the pocket of needy kids, right?”

“It’s for a good cause.” He says darkly.

“And what cause would that be?”

He sneers at you. “Disease research, mainly.”

The phrase surprises you.

Later, Bruce is doing research at the Batcave. “He goes by Mr. Freeze. Born: Victor Fries. Wife Nora suffers from Stage Four of a rare pneumonia-like condition known as MacGregor Syndrome. He had her cryogenically frozen, and now it seems like he’s turned to crime to fund his research into a cure.”

You hesitate. “Well... is there something we can do to help him?”

“Help him? May I remind you that he held hundreds of people hostage?”

“Well...” you shrug. “I just figure that maybe he wouldn’t be so... crime-y if his wife was being taken care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I was so close to losing you.”

Bruce softens slightly. “Look, Freeze committed a crime - several crimes, and he has to go to jail. But if it makes you feel better, we can have Wayne Enterprise’s medical division look into studying her disease. Judging from what I see here, MacGregor Syndrome has similarities with many other diseases. It might be a key in finding lots more cures.”

You smile and hug him. “Lead with that. Tell Fries that we’re willing to do that.”

Of course, Fries’ future crimes are due to the cost of maintaining his portable cryogenic suit, but you hear a lot less about it than you expect, especially since Nora is being taken care of...

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch

You were meeting a couple of old school friends at a tea parlor one day. It’s nice to escape the stress of your life and reminisce.

Roland and Alicia are a cute couple, and they tell you they have a baby on the way.

But the day is marred by a strange incident in which a small man in a top hat and tails (tuxedo tails) comes up to your table and starts babbling at Alicia, calling her “Alice” and trying to touch her blond hair, despite her attempts to shove him away..

Roland gets angry and punches the man, but before he can go any further, you pull him back.

The strange man glances at you. “The Dormouse...” he mutters, and walks away.

“What a creep.” Alicia shudders.

You’ve already figured it out. The man is deluded, thinking he’s the Mad Hatter, and he seems to be trying to fit everything into his Wonderland-inspired delusions. You tell Bruce about this, and he immediately agrees that Alicia is in danger.

You go to their hotel room to see them, warn them, but Roland answers the door wearing a bowler hat and Alicia is nowhere to be found.

Roland attacks you, knocking you out and kidnapping you.

Thankfully Bruce has been watching as Batman and follows.

You wake up tied to a chair around a tea table. Alicia is tied to another chair in an Alice-in-Wonderland costume, looking terrified. 

Jervis Tetch reveals himself and points out his minions, enslaved with his mind control headwear.

“Very spiffy, if I do say so myself.” you say cheerily. “Quite the milliner you are, my good sir.” (Alicia looks at you like you’re crazy)

Jervis loves the flattery, and it distracts him long enough for Batman to smash through the glass ceiling and knock the hat off his head, disabling the control.

Sure, no one was hurt much, but needless to say you would have to visit Alicia and Roland in the future instead of ever having them come to Gotham...

Hush - Dr. Tommy Elliot

“We’re having lunch with an old friend of mine.” Bruce announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why don’t I know who this is? We have pretty much all the same old friends. I mean, we were together, like, all the time.”

“You remember Tommy, right?”

“Tommy? No, Tommy doesn’t ring a bell, hon.”

Bruce sighs, and you laugh. This is as animated as you’ve seen him in a while. “Come on, Tommy Elliot! Back when we were little! We used to play Robin Hood together in the park, and you two always fought over who got to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“Yeah, nope. No memory of that.”

He sighs, but you go with him anyway. It hits you when you see the man at the restaurant. He was that kid! His parents were friends with Bruce’s parents. They had almost died in an accident when Bruce’s dad saved them.

He’d always try to play this strategy game thing with you and Bruce. It was only two players, and while he’d always beat Bruce (your husband wasn’t always the tactician he was now), he’d get really frustrated playing against you.

Tommy liked to try and get inside your head to beat you, figure out what you were going to do and then planning for it.

But you could tell what he was doing, and kept doing random moves you wouldn’t normally play, throwing him off and winning.

You didn’t like him much, and you kinda got the feeling he didn’t like Bruce that much either.

“Oh. That Tommy.”

Bruce looks at your worried face. “What’s wrong? If you really don’t want to, we can cancel.”

“Oh, hush. We’re already here. Least we can do is have a nice lunch...”

Zsasz - Victor Zsasz

It’s never a good sign when a payphone rings. So many bad reasons...

Not the least of which is that barely anyone even uses payphones anymore.

Let alone to call another payphone. I mean, how does that even work?

So it startles you when you’re walking Gotham (during the day, of course), and a payphone rings. No one else is around to answer it. 

You start to walk away, and then the next payphone rings when you reach it.

The other guy near it jumps like fifty feet in the air, but then goes to answer it.

He looks scared. “It’s... it’s for you.”

You sigh and take the phone

“Ignoring my calls? Naughty...”

“Um... wrong number. This is a payphone, not, uh, whoever you were calling.”

“This isn’t Y/N Wayne?”

“Yeah, no, it isn’t. May I ask who’s calling, though?”

“I know it’s you, Y/N. You don’t know me. Yet.”

“Look, I know Halloween’s coming up, but I’m not in the mood for Scream right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a scary movie, it’s real. My name is Zsasz.”

“Z- zsa... okay, how is that spelled?”

“Z. S. A. S. Z.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, is that Polish?”

“...What?”

“Sorry, I have to run, but it was nice talking to you!”

You run home and immediately tell Bruce you talked to Zsasz. Luckily you were running a trace with your phone - a little extra Tim developed for you. Within the hour, Batman has Zsasz in custody, saving the poor people he had kidnapped to add to his tally...

Klarion the Witch Boy

“Oh, hello! Who are you, little guy?”

The orange tabby glares at you with utter hate. It flicks its tail, but surprisingly, comes closer and curls around your legs.

It allows you to pick it up, and it purrs.

“Teekl! My word!” a boy comes running up to you, wearing a tailored suit and a newsboy cap. 

The boy snatches the tabby from you and pets it, despite how it looks like it wants to go back to you. “What were you doing with Teekl?”

“That’s its name? He’s a cute little guy. Uh, he just wandered in front of me and basically asked me to pet him.”

The boy glares at the cat. “You TALKED to him?”

The cat looks at him and rolls its eyes.

“Um, who are you, kid?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously, mortal? You haven’t heard of me? I am Klarion! Klarion the Witch Boy! And this is my familiar, Teekl.”

You nod seriously. “Good for you, kid.”

He seems about to throw a tantrum, so you wave and leave the boy dumbfounded...

The Court of Owls

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

Speak not a whispered word of them

Or they’ll send the Talon for your head...”

“That’s a stupid poem. It doesn’t even keep time.”

“It’s free verse.”

“Yeah, free ‘cause no one would pay for it.”

You and Bruce were only kids when you heard the old rhyme. Bruce was trying to scare you as a Halloween season joke, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, Y/N! At least pretend to play along!”

Thomas Wayne enters the living room, and pretends to scold Bruce. “Now, Bruce, be hospitable to your guest. What’s the argument about?”

You smirk. “Bruce says that there’s a Court of Owls who eat limes and put talons on people’s heads.”

Thomas hunches down, making a spooky face. “Well, Y/N, it’s an old Gotham story. It’s a very bad thing that Bruce told you. You’ll have to be very careful now.”

He looks dead serious, and now you’re scared. “Really? What should I do, Mr. Wayne?”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to be a very good kid all your life, Y/N. Never go out after dark without your parents’ permission. Don’t ever cheat on a test. Don’t lie. And if you ever see someone in an Owl mask, look the other way and forget you saw it.”

He grins, dropping the facade. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just couldn’t help it. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

Being a stubborn child, you insist he didn’t. After all, you’re old enough not to be scared by that stuff anymore.

But on the way home, after your parents pick you up, you notice something.

A tall figure in an alley, wearing a stylized white Owl mask.

You quickly look away, trying to put it out of your head, mumbling the rhyme to yourself.

“Beware the Court of Owls...”

You forget about this until far later in life, after you, as Y/N Wayne, have become an enemy of the dreaded Court...

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Shannon! We’re excited to have you and Harper Clarington in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Shannon, she/her Age: 27 Timezone: CST Ships: Harper/Happiness Anti-Ships: Harper/Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Harper Lee Clarington Face Claim: Adelaide Kane Age/Birthday: 21, October 13th Occupation: Student Personality: Curious, fun-loving, playful, naïve, studious. Hometown: Chicago, IL

Bio:

Born on a non-descript October evening, Harper Lee Clarington was the apple of her parent’s eyes  for about 2.5 days before they returned to their everyday routine of drug use and scamming schemes. Life in the Clarington house was anything but pleasant. Her parents fought often and disappeared frequently, sometimes leaving her alone with Hunter for days at a time. In their stead, Hunter took on the major role of raising her. While this meant Harper matured quickly, it also meant that she had an inseperable bond with her older sister. More times than not she felt fortunate to be the younger sibling, because by the time she was old enough to start worrying about their living situation Hunter had already established teachers and  friends whose families were aware about their circumstances. This allowed Harper to remain naive to an extent, a trait that still dogs her into her adulthood.

Starting school became a guiding light in Harper’s life. Learning to read and solve math problems felt easy compared to finding answers for the problems in her home life. She dedicated much of her free time to studying and became a gifted student, excelling in the subjects of english and science. Towards the end of her elementary grade years, at the age of 10, Hunter was accepted to NYU. From their years together Harper knew that Hunter would turn down the chance just to make sure she was raised properly. Instead, with the hopes that she could finally repay Hunter back in some way, Harper encouraged her to go and follow her dreams. Only being 10 years old, Harper did her best to navigate the turmoil of her parent’s while juggling her own needs. Unfortunately this came to a rough end, when three months later her parents left her alone for an entire week while they went on a bender. With no other options, Harper took the remaining money from her bank stash and took a bus to NYC where she tracked down Hunter.

The months that followed were some of the best and some of the worst in Harper’s life. She watched with dismay, but not shock, as her parents easily signed away their parental rights over her to Hunter. Worse was witnessing Hunter maneuver their new life, seemingly taking it all in stride as she quit college and started her new job as a party promoter. The best moment came from finally feeling security in her home life for the first time ever. Harper threw herself into her studies with a new vigor, desperate to prove to Hunter that she was worth the sacrifices her sister had made. She quickly jumped to the top of her class, an active participant in National Honor Society and her class Student Council. It came as no surprise when Harper decided in her junior year of high school that she wanted to go to college for education. Teachers had been some of the greatest pillars in her life, while school provided an environment that taught her that she could be more than the poster child for neglect. Harper applied early decision to NYU and held a major celebration with Hunter at the Library when she received her acceptance letter.

Things have become easier now that Harper is in school. While Hunter still provides for her in a lot of ways, Harper is starting to feel more self sufficient. The fact that Hunter was able to pursue another dream and open the Library relieved some of the guilt she felt about Hunter quitting school. Their bond remains closer than ever, and as an adult Harper feels less like Hunter’s child and more like her sister. Their relationship is easygoing, with any problems solved by thoughtful and controlled conversations. The biggest obstacle in her way is really just coming out as gay to Hunter. If looks alone weren’t enough to link them as sisters, their talent for music and sass made them feel nearly indistinguishable to Harper. She is afraid that once she comes out as gay she will truly be lost in the shadow of her bigger and more sociable sister. In the meantime she continues to work hard at school during the day, spends long study sessions at Acup, and frequently stays at Hunter’s apartment above the Library.

Pets: None.

Relationships:

♬ Hunter Clarington -

♬ Roisin Flanagan - Harper’s interest in elementary education meant that she would need a teacher to shadow to ensure the path was right for her.. After a recommendation from her high school counselor, Harper was introduced to Roisin who welcomed her into her classroom with open arms. Harper has great admiration for Roisin and despite the fact that she’s now in college, she still views Roisin as her mentor.

♬ Blair Anderson - Harper happened to meet Blair one day after school when she returned to the Library. It wasn’t long before she was wowed by Blair’s adept piano skills and asked if she would be open to teaching her piano after school once a week. Blair is Harper’s favorite member of the Library staff and they have a playful banter to their friendship.

EXTRA INFO

[ This is for the masterlist, but also a fun little way to get to know your character! ]

Twitter name/twitter URL/description: @notthatharperlee / No, I didn’t write To Kill A Mockingbird. So shut your gob.

Five latest tweets:

@notthatharperlee Petition for @huntingclarity to stop serving me Shirley Temples at the Library. #NotFunnyAnymore

@notthatharperlee People think it’s funny that Antiques Roadshow was my favorite TV show growing up, that is until they realize I’m not joking.

@notthatharperlee I vote we bring back Freedom trash cans and throw the entire #WhiteHouse in it while singing Do You Hear the People Sing from Les Mis.

@notthatharperlee Can someone explain to me what flavor the white part in a bomb pop is supposed to be? #WonderBreadIsMyGuess

@notthatharperlee Does it say something that I identify with Snorlax the most out of all the #Pokemon?

[musicgoon]

Review: ESV Story of Redemption Bible

For the month of December, I decided to join author Tony Reinke’s #IsaiahChristmas Bible reading plan. I was also reading through the Gospel of John. When I saw the ESV Story of Redemption Bible was available to review, it was the perfect opportunity to help me get through my reading. I wouldn’t be reading from a digital screen. I would be reading a beautiful book.

A Bible You Will Want To Read

I was excited to do my daily readings in this Bible. It felt solid in my hands, but I was gentle with each page turn because they were so pleasant to look at. On my desk, the Bible laid flat when open. The Bible proved to be a bit heavy for me while pacing the room while reading. But when I read on the couch, it rested comfortably on my lap. I even took it to bed one night and I read well.

The black text on the cream-colored paper is easy on the eyes. With a type size of 9.25 for the Bible text and 8.5 for the notes, I did not have to wear my glasses or strain my eyes to read. The single column layout was refreshing, and the extremely minimal use of footnotes and lack of cross-references helped my flow of reading. My personal devotions were enhanced because I looked forward to holding this Bible in my hands and seeing the text. I was able to focus without distraction.

A Pastor As Your Personal Guide

Here is Crossway’s official author bio on Greg Gilbert: Greg Gilbert (MDiv, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is senior pastor at Third Avenue Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky. He is the author of What Is the Gospel?, James: A 12-Week Study, and Who Is Jesus?, and is the co-author (with Kevin DeYoung) of What Is the Mission of the Church?

The notes are written from a pastoral perspective. The tone is kind and trustworthy. Gilbert acts as your personal guide, and I found his notes to be placed at just the right breaks in the text. When I started reading Isaiah, the book introduction helped set the story with enough background to whet my appetite. The notes in the Gospel of John were equally impressive, helping me make sense of the theological themes in the text. They are not study notes. Rather, they are markers to keep you on track with the story. I even used the notes in Isaiah to help me confidently explain the context while teaching my 11th-Grade Sunday School class. 

A Beautiful Bible For A Beautiful Story

This is truly a beautiful Bible. It has the physical weight and artistic flourishes that you would expect from a book that houses the story of redemption. The Index of Title Illustrations is equally elegant and helpful. The foldout Story of Redemption Timeline is exquisite, but also a fun surprise to find. As a music leader and artist, I appreciate the design details. It is inspiring to read and it inspires me to create art that is just as beautiful as the design of this book.

This Christmas will be a bit difficult due to some personal reasons for my family. Reading through Isaiah and John with this specific Bible reminded me of the beautiful story of redemption and how God continues to work all things for our good and his glory.

Crossway has provided me with a complimentary copy of the ESV Story of Redemption Bible through their Blog Review Program.

[israelpkyc68cleaning4-blog]

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Clean with which means

Wash home windows on a cloudy day

Bottle caps of pure vanilla extract

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What's a Dust Bunny

They've help

Cup linseed oil (walnut oil, olive oil or almond oil may be used as an alternative)

Wash your automobile carefully

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