#shadow eats coffee bea

[gracefuldisasters]

I needed to draw this headcannon about my favorite joke from the entire franchise.

Also, I want to see little Shadow and Maria just being little gremlin children.

bonus

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking about babea au and the inevitability of a tiny gangly Bea spending weekends and after school at cat’s cradle.

and all the active sisters are kind but they’re so very often sporting bruises and bloody-noses and bea wants wants wants but she’s also still afraid of hot showers so she skirts away from them and the way they ruffle her hair.

she turns into a wraithlike thing, a shadow tucked into corners and alcoves, watching everything.

so afraid to touch any of it, because what she holds or has inevitably breaks. Shannon with her purple-stained ribs and her lightly wheezing breaths, Mary sometimes with a limp or a wince when she tries to lift something after taking a ricochet-shot to the shoulder; a wound that is shallow to everyone except Beatrice.

but then she sees Suzanne, still getting used to her cane, to being here, again, and not dead. (telling herself that she ought to be dead, that she has nothing good left to give, no purpose in these gunpowder-scented halls)

and then Mary gets hurt, and Bea’s trying to be small and helpful and not any trouble so she decides that she’ll shadow the calm shape of Suzanne around the convent (and the anger under her façade is not invisible to Bea; she knows this slow simmer, this unvoiced scream that has to stay or it will never stop).

and she is just a little shadow, with her knobbly elbows and too-big hoodie (black, to suit her mood). it makes her seem, to Suzanne, like a dark scar against the sun-blasted stone.

at first she just lets Beatrice follow her around as she watches the sisters run through forms or practice hand signs or spar from way up high on the walls. tutting at Beatrice when she tries to sit on the parapet, so she stands on her toes looking over. her small frame masking the intelligence in her eyes as she follows each fight.

the days pass and they slip into an odd, mute choreography. breakfast in the refectory and Bea choosing the same fruit as Suzanne, watching how she slices up a mango and eats it so that her face is stained by the juice, how she sucks the sweetness off her own thumb, after. Bea with her chocolate cereal they keep just for her, stirring it until the milk goes brown, eating plain toast while she waits for Suzanne to finish her coffee.

Suzanne notices that Bea has a tiny plastic thing she holds when she’s nervous, when the hallways are busy after morning prayers. accompanied by a blood-drawing bite of her bottom lip, one fist stuffed in the front pocket of her hoodie and the other turning a little plastic shape over and over in her palm.

and so Suzanne starts diverting, insisting that she needs to climb the belltower to look at the masonry, explaining conservation and how to find flaws in stone to Bea, who turns her little plastic x-wing fighter over in her palms, paying rapt attention.

Bea too overwhelmed by all the people at lunch time so they eat in the kitchen, Suzanne cutting the crusts off Bea’s sandwich out of habit, because she used to do that when she was young, and Bea making her laugh by picking up each stick of cut crust from the side of the plate and eating them one-by-one.

finding out that Bes hates raw carrot but likes grapes. adapting, adapting.

Bea like: “my favorite part of pizza is the crust.” and Suzanne ordering pizza for them when Shannon's out on mission one night, when Mary falls asleep early from the painkillers despite herself. the two of them in the refectory again but in the quiet, Suzanne confused but listening to Beatrice telling her the whole plot of a star wars movie, taking Suzanne’s discarded crusts when she’s finished each slice and munching determinedly while she listens for the sound of the vans returning home.

during the day when Suzanne has to rest (frequently) she smiles as Beatrice shows her how she can do fifty situps or her cartwheels or her handstand, knowing that this is Beatrice's way of not commenting on how tired Suzanne is, for someone so young.

closer, still tentative and full of silences. miniature misunderstandings and moments of genuine grace.

until eventually Mary takes a stroll and finds Bea sitting on the wall, Suzanne with an arm wrapped around her so that Bea’s watching the sparring half-asleep with her head resting against Suzanne’s shoulder, against her muscle-wasted thinness, because the halo has left scars beyond those you can see.

Mary watching them, not sure how to feel except perhaps grateful. a horrible part of her thinking that if anything happens to her and Shannon both, then there will still be someone left in the world for Beatrice.

looking at Suzanne and thinking “you couldn’t carry the halo, but if you can carry her in my absence, i might be able to forgive you for it.”

[foulbearobservation]

For the ot4 prompts, how about Ava and Lilith watching as Bea and Cam get highly competitive (affectionate) over something?

I too, get overly competitive when it comes to Sid Meier's Civilization V

"This is a travesty! A complete breakdown of international policy!" Camila cries out.

"You fortified the boarder in 1575, am I not allowed to do the same?" Beatrice says calmly.

"In the atomic era? You're within striking distance of my major commercial hubs. Back off, Beatrice." Camila points dramatically.

Ava is watching this whole thing like it's a tennis match, complete with absentminded popcorn eating from the couch. A shadow looms behind her and she glances back to see Lilith, freshly back from her evening workout.

"What are they arguing about?" Lilith asks, leaning over to steal a handful of popcorn.

"International relations."

An arched eyebrow. "Why are they arguing about international relations on the living room floor?"

Ava points at Camila, who is situated on one end of the coffee table with her laptop in front of her. "Cami is the Dutch empire, she's got better trade routes, cultural exchange, and a superior navy but," Ava moves to point at Beatrice, "Bea is playing the Mongolians, her land fighting forces are superior and her science is just slightly ahead."

Lilith glances around, trying to find a way to make that information make sense and evidently she can't find one. "What the fuck?"

"They've been playing Civilization all day."

"What?"

Ava sighs. "The video game Bea really likes, the nerdy one that's like Risk."

"Oh! Yeah, she tried to get me to play it last week."

"You didn't like it?" Ava asks innocently.

"Do I seem like the type of person to sit still and play a computer game for multiple hours?" Lilith deadpans.

Ava acquiesces the point. "Do you wanna sit here and cuddle with me while we watch the nerds fight it out? They've just reached the atomic era and I think Bea has uranium but she hasn't mentioned it so I think she's planning something sneaky."

"I'm all sweaty." Lilith complains, but still dutifully sits down, letting Ava climb on top of her. "Grab my Switch if you're going to insist on this."

Ava reaches under the couch and pulls out Lilith's Nintendo Switch. "I can't believe you're ignoring me to play video games too, this is so fucked up."

"You're sitting on my lap, I couldn't ignore if you I tried and believe me, I've tried." Lilith grumps.

The argument at the coffee table reignites. "If you plunder that trade route I swear to Mother Superion, I will start an all out war." Camila warns. "There will be no survivors!"

"Mutually assured destruction is no way to run a civilization, Camila."

[chertila3000]

I decided to draw myself an OC in the style of Hell Boss and Hazbin Hotel. And now I’ll tell you a little about each. Well, since I couldn’t decide which species I see myself as, I drew them all. Get ready, this post will be long.

I haven’t come up with names for everyone yet, so for now they will all be “Chertila” I started from the very bottom and took the imp. An ordinary resident of the circle of anger, who took a design course, earned some extra money and was able to move to Impsiti, where she bought a nice and cozy room, continuing to develop her client base. Sometimes he works part-time at a local coffee shop when there are no orders. He also enjoys shooting in his spare time, preferring rifles and crossbows.

Along with the imps, hellhounds are located in the hierarchy. I'm bad at conveying sizes, but she is a small black Spitz. I haven't decided on a specific breed yet (German or Pomeranian). She mostly hangs out at Bi's parties, where she can eat for free and even spend the night. He makes money mainly by drawing portraits or drawings to order at these same parties. She is very poorly socialized, she likes communication and the presence of someone nearby, but due to a past toxic relationship she is very afraid of starting and becoming attached, and then being abandoned again, so she simply prefers to be unnoticed in the crowd and draw while incendiary concerts of the Lord of Gluttony.

On the step above are the succubi. This person is a little different from her relatives in that she does not really like to get to the surface and seduce mortals, as well as engage in constant fucking. Instead, she prefers to draw horney art, animations, and write vulgar fanfiction based on her favorite characters. She also practices tattooing and draws marks on succubi in the groin area and on the tailbones, thanks to which they are saturated with vital energy when making love to people. He also works part-time as a consultant at the s*x toy store Asmodea.

I probably got confused in the sequence, but next I drew this Baphomet from Leni's circle. She really looks more like a lamb, but it doesn’t matter. Her work is as creative as that of previous OCs, she works in an architectural agency and does landscape design. Mainly deals with projects in his own circle and for the circle of gluttony because Bea really likes unusual and bright projects, which make her territory so special. He makes good money from this, and in his free time he streams games.

Well, the next one is this deep-sea fish from the circle of envy, which I was inspired by the twins from the last episode of the boss. She is a member of a theater and dance club and, as you know, dances. But because the creatures of this circle are like their sin, their group is not so united and friendly, they are ruled by unhealthy competition, which is why they often miss rehearsals and do not participate in competitions, or do not strive for the first roles. She is depressed by this whole atmosphere, she suffers from damage to costumes and direct harm to her body, but she herself is torn with envy of the talent of other colleagues, whose conscience allows them to add laxatives or spoil a beautiful dress. Why doesn't she leave? It's simple - all groups are like this, she has changed them more than once and has encountered these problems everywhere, but she loves to dance too much and loves the stage too much, but she is also too weak and inexperienced for a solo, so she just enjoys dancing in someone else's shadow and hopes that someday her faint light will be noticed.

Circle of greed. I thought for a long time between a shark and a dinosaur, but the latter have been my love since childhood. Despite her soft-looking plumpness and pink color scheme, she is quite hot-tempered. She can restrain herself from insulting some no-name on the street (if she is in a good mood), but she often breaks down at all sorts of trolls on the Internet. In addition to her temper, she is also quite sentimental and often overwhelms herself with all sorts of sad thoughts, which then makes her cry. In such cases, he likes to burden himself with work in order to drown out his feelings. She works as an accountant for various mafiosi, she is not associated with any group and only provides accountant services and the preparation of documents and reports, so she lives in relative safety. She loves baking and baking, which often causes her favorite shorts to rip.

Well, the final hierarchy of this series is goetia She is a young raven, most likely one of Paimon's many children (I did not take a specific demon from the goetia). Her path is poisons, potions and black magic. A pure Slytherin graduate. A book lover like Stolas, but mainly because of his young age, he reads gay fan fiction, which the family is not happy about, but because... She is one of the youngest, she is often bullied, so she does what she wants. He plays the violin and piano, but secretly learns the guitar. Drawing is also part of her education, but she is already tired of endless jugs, but drawing comics or art for her favorite works really pleases her immortal soul.

Well, the first and last representative of the universe is a sinner. I didn’t take the over of the lords because they are the same sinners, only much cooler and stronger. This seemingly charming girl got here because she was involved in Satanism, and also because of a bunch of crap in her life she was supervised by Roskomnadzor. After going to Hell, he lives like a potato moth. To avoid hanging himself from boredom, he draws. Fan of Velvet because... is a fashion lover. He dreams of working for her, but understands how dangerous it can be, because she looks like Cruela. She's also a fan of video games. She heard about Charlie's Hotel and suggests that redemption is possible, but even if it works, she will never agree to it. She is an atheist in life, and even being here in Hell and knowing about the existence of Heaven, she does not want to go there. She despises religion and considers it two-faced and mercantile, she associates it with a bunch of Popes who organized bloody crusades, priests of fagots, and an insanely huge number of domestic tyrants and fanatics. And Lucifer is her crush.

That's all, thank you if you were able to cope with this. I also noticed that, as is typical for every creative person, I put a piece of myself into each version of the OC, be it clothes from my wardrobe, a character trait, dreams, fears, desires or life position. In general, I sorted myself out for my sins

[cloud9in]

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film 

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1- 

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

                                                   - Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this. 

 ...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine. 

 My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows. 

 ***

 ...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

 Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

 I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed. 

 Sincerely, your STD free son

 It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced. 

 Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life. 

 Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

 Song lyrics…

 That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

 If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

 Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest. 

 Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

 Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet? 

 ***

 The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her. 

 Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

 Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

 The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

 “6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.” 

 Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

 “Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

 “Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

 “Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

 ***

 Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

 “Hey!”

 He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

 “Hey wait up!” 

 The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

 “I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

 “No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

 “Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

 “I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

 It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

 Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

 “No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

 “Well you see it’s a letter..”

 “Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

 “I thought it seemed romantic..”

 “And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

 “I- I can’t help you.”

 “But if you just add a few more words-”

 “I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social. 

 Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!” 

 Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. ��Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

 Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be? 

 But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

 ***

 “One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

 “Deal!”

 Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

                                 -------------------------------------------

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

[offtopicoverload]

Bad at Sleeping Alone

A late night ficlet for the real Queen B, Zoey, that I didn't actually write at night this time. But here it is anyway, since I couldn’t get it out of my head.

Starts at Chapter 10

Zoey x MC (Bea Hughes)

~3k words

Zoey and Bea are bad at sleeping alone. Like, really bad at it. Like, so bad that they just... can’t. Not unless there’s someone with them. But that someone can only be each other, mind you. And the weirdest part of it? They’ve never had this problem before, never needed someone there, one person specifically. And, actually, maybe the weirdest part is that it really didn’t even start happening until the whole Benji incident took place. 

Bea had been shaken to her core after it happened, glassy eyed and numb to the world as Zoey hugged her and comforted her, turning on her favorite movies and shows, ordering pizza and her favorite snacks, and burying Bea in a mountain of fluffy blankets on the couch. They’d stayed up all of that night, to the point that Zoey was almost falling asleep in her classes the next day while taking her notes.

Zoey had spent the night laughing at the bad movies they always loved, and Bea would force a smile whenever Zoey glanced at her, but not a single one of them reached her eyes that night. Zoey had gorged on sweets and snacks all night, nearly making herself sick on pizza and ice cream, but the most Bea managed was a single slice, only taking bites when Zoey asked if she was feeling okay.

The night was long and odd, and Zoey tried her best to make it normal, but it just couldn’t be, not when Bea still had a haunted look in her eyes and refused to let Zoey turn off even a single light; it was like she was suddenly afraid of the tiniest amount of darkness. But Bea Hughes wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all something so trivial and childish as the dark.

But Zoey obliged all the same, she even went around and flicked on every single light in their dorm, even ones they couldn’t see when night fell, the darkness seeping through the windows that Bea checked were locked three or four times before sitting down. Every time she sat down. If she got up to the bathroom she turned on her phone’s flashlight, even with every lightbulb on its brightest setting, and made her rounds of every window and the front door, checking and testing the locks until she was satisfied.

And to make things even weirder, Bea didn’t even want to sleep when Zoey asked, shaking her head furiously and stumbling over an explanation, an excuse that she was just having fun. So neither of them slept a wink, even though they were sat directly next to one another the whole time, Bea inching closer as the hours dragged on.

---

Zoey offered to binge whatever Bea wanted the next night, too, but Bea refused, saying she should get some sleep, so Zoey conceded. She went to bed easily, wrapped up in her comforter and sheets as Bea sat down the hall, laying in bed with as much light as she could create and staring at the ceiling blankly, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, grabbed her phone and earbuds and blasted music until she couldn’t hear anything, until she could scroll her phone and get lost in social media and pointless rivalries that kicked her while she was down.

When the sun started to rise, she dragged herself from under the layers and stalked into the common area, settling herself in the corner of the kitchen, back to the counter so she could keep an eye on the entirety of the massive open space until Zoey woke up. And she did, after an hour or so, joining Bea in drinking coffee with a smile.

Bea forced a smile back, finishing off her third cup of coffee quickly, and left to get ready for the day, automatically feeling better with Zoey nearby. Maybe it helped because Zoey had threatened him with stilettos and kitchen knives numerous times, and of all people, Zoey was most likely to actually go through with it on Bea’s behalf.

The cycle repeated itself the next night, Bea attempting to drown out and hide from the shadows that her worst nightmare could be lurking in while Zoey slept soundly in the same dorm. Bea downed five cups the next morning, grabbing more throughout the day to get through her classes and keep her mind sharp enough to avoid the devil incarnate and her mindless minions.

On the fourth day, Bea planned to continue her routine, even if the bags under her eyes had been begging for release from under pounds of concealer. Except for one thing, one disastrous thing: Cutiepie had gotten her earbuds and destroyed them. Both pairs, too, bluetooth and wired.

She sunk to the floor, staring at the mess of wires before her and felt pressure building at the back of her eyes, the last few days finally catching up to her, finally feeling real and scary and like she was hopelessly, absolutely, without a doubt alone. A few tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, sliding down her cheeks before she wiped them away with her sleeve.

It was already late, she had stayed on the couch with the TV on as long as she could, letting cheesy television fill the room until the empty space became too much to bear and she bolted for her room, praying she hadn’t woken Zoey with how panickedly she slammed her door. And now her one defense has been ripped to shreds by her stupidly cute dog.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, banishing the tears away and struggled to her feet. She dusted herself off, already dressed in pajamas since she got home and knew she didn’t want to leave, not unless she has to, and slipped under the covers. She wanted to sleep, she really did. But she felt as if it would make her so vulnerable, being unaware and unconscious. She felt as if it would make his job easier, that he could slip in and she’d never see, that she’d die alone, not even with her own thoughts to accompany her.

She curled in on her side, pulling the comforter over her head as she tried to block out the world, but when she opened her eyes, it was so dark beneath the fabric. Too dark. She threw the comforter back, the lights of the room bathing her in yellow, yellow she never wanted to be without. She took a deep breath to calm herself, searching the room for anything out of the ordinary. And, satisfied that there truly wasn’t anything, she fell back to her pillow, snuggled into the sheets, and stared at her wall, her hammering heart slowing in her chest the whole while.

Crash.

Something fell or was smashed or broke or Bea didn’t even know what, but something loud exploded, and it sounded like it came from right outside her window. She jumped out of bed, nearly slipping on the floor as she glanced around wildly, looking for the source of the noise. She didn’t find anything, though whether that was because of her blurred vision or the fact that there was nothing, she wasn’t sure.

That was it, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t try to sleep and she couldn’t be alone. She just couldn’t do this.

She huffed, ran her hands through her hair, and squeezed her eyes shut tight, willing something to change. Maybe if she squeezed hard enough she’d open her eyes and find out nothing had ever happened, that he didn’t exist or she never even went to Belvoire in the first place. No, that’s stupid, because then she never would have met Zoey.

Zoey. That’s been her lifeline, right? That’s who was always there for her, even when she had no reason to be? Oh god, Bea’s a nuisance, isn’t she? A pest, unwanted and irritating.

But she had no other options, not anymore, not when she’s scared out of her skin and exhausted, not when even copious amounts of caffeine hadn’t been able to keep her coherent and fully awake these past few days.

She heaved a deep sigh, grabbed a blanket off her bed, and trudged out of her room in the direction of Zoey’s own. She steeled herself before entering, heaving another deep sigh and turned the handle, nerves eating away at her.

---

“Zoey?” A quiet voice called out into the dark, small and worried as it floated over to the sleeping woman wrapped in her sheets.

“Hmm?” she hummed, shifting and pressing her face further into her pillow, sleepy and not even a quarter awake.

The voice grew bolder, louder as it echoed in the dark, “Are you awake?”

Zoey forced her eyes open, finding darkness ahead of her. She blinked into it, working to clear her sleep-induced haze, and turned over her shoulder, finding a shadowed halo of Bea with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders standing in the doorway, mass amounts of light filtering in the room. “Bea?” she called into the dark.

The shadow nodded, “I’m sorry, I just…” she took a deep breath, “I can’t sleep,” she whispered into the dark, pulling her blanket tighter around herself and dipping her head.

Zoey sat up, shifting to face Bea better, “How come, babe? What’s wrong?” Her voice was worn down by sleep, but she still forced it out.

“It’s… I haven’t been able to sleep since the whole... thing,” Bea murmured quietly.

Zoey’s mind whirred as her awareness grew, eyes nearly bugging out of her head as she did the math, “It’s been four days! Bea, have you not slept in four days?!” she couldn’t help the incredulous from her voice.

The shadow nodded, the light from behind it shifting with it. Zoey balked into the dark, bewildered and confused about how Bea could go four days without sleeping, and even more confused how she could go four days without telling her.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” Bea’s quiet, small, wavering and nervous voice called into the dark again, the shadowed figure shuffling awkwardly in the doorway.

Zoey had to stop herself from laughing in pure disbelief, “Yes!” She wrangled her volume, “Yes. Of course. Are you kidding? Get over here,” Zoey shifted across the mattress, leaving plenty of space for Bea to crawl in beside her.

And she did just that, slipping beneath the covers as Zoey held them open for her, laying on her side to face Zoey in the dark, the door still open. But Zoey knew enough not to comment, and simply wiggled closer, throwing her arm across Bea’s side.

She cuddled into Zoey, her head pressing into her chest as Zoey’s arm tightened around her, holding her tighter and softly combing through her hair, the shifting rhythm of Bea’s breath raising her chest with each inhale. Zoey glanced down after a long moment, only to find Bea’s eyelids shut and her breathing slow and steady as she dozed off.

---

Then it started happening more regularly, Bea slipping into Zoey’s room in the middle of the night, nudging her awake until she let Bea in. Until Bea stopped asking, just crossing to the other side and cuddling up to a fast asleep Zoey. And Zoey didn’t mind those nights when she went to sleep alone and woke up to Bea beside her, because Zoey found it a little amusing and Bea needed it.

Zoey knew it helped, that she felt better being with someone, that it was probably the only way she could even sleep for a while. But she also knew that Bea didn’t want to talk about it, not when the conversation would inevitably circle back to why she couldn’t sleep on her own in the first place. So Zoey never brought it up, simply got out of bed and started her day, greeting Bea in the kitchen after she slipped out.

Except one night, after maybe three weeks of this routine, Bea didn’t sneak into Zoey’s room, didn’t slip under the covers, and didn't wrap herself around Zoey quietly. Zoey woke up to cold sheets, red flags flying before her eyes before she was even fully conscious. She glanced to her alarm clock, 3:06 printed in red block letters on it.

She slipped out from under the covers, padding across her room and out the open door until she reached Bea’s room, carefully pulling the door open. Bea was stretched out on her comforter, head buried in her arm with textbooks and papers strewn about and Cutiepie sprawled at the foot of the bed.

Zoey sighed, stepping further into the room and walked to the bed, gathering papers and textbooks and set them on Bea’s desk until the bed was cleared, save for Cutiepie and Bea. She pulled the sheets back from beneath Bea, pulling them over her sleeping form when they were clear of her body.

She turned, scratching Cutiepie on the head before leaving the room and walked back to her own, slipping under her covers. She faced the dark ceiling for what felt like an eternity, urging her body to just slip from consciousness. It didn’t work, her mind wide awake, even as she forced her eyes shut and tossed and turned incessantly.

She huffed, sat up and stared into the dark in frustration before she left her room for the second time tonight, right back to Bea’s, too. She scratched Cutiepie on the head again as she passed him, stopping on the opposite side to Bea. She crawled under the comforter, squirmed close to Bea, and buried her face in the loose hair haloed around her head, falling asleep sooner than she did earlier in the night, exactly as she expected.

---

And so it continues, Zoey and Bea switching between their rooms every night, adding the couch on weekends when they spent hours staring at the television screen. They always woke up in different positions, their limbs tangled together from their sleep.

Bea curled into Zoey’s side seemed to be the most common, their arms flung around each other and draped across laps. Sometimes Zoey was leaned against Bea, her head on her shoulder and arms wrapped around her bicep tightly, a vice grip on Bea. Sometimes one of their heads landed in the other’s lap, fingers combing through their hair until they drifted off. Sometimes they woke up stacked on top of each other, Bea curled up with her head on Zoey’s chest or Zoey with her face buried in the crook of Bea’s shoulder.

One time Zoey had fallen asleep stretched out on the couch before Bea got home, the TV still playing faintly before her as she faded off, wrapped tight in a blanket. She woke up in the middle of the night to Bea sitting in front of the couch, her head dropped back against the couch cushions in front of Zoey’s chest, her mouth hanging open as she slept. Zoey stuck her finger in her gaping mouth until Bea woke up and started gagging while Zoey laughed hysterically until she couldn’t breathe.

The next time it happened, Bea’s mouth was shut, her side against the front of the couch as she slept with her legs bent at the knee and arms curled before her chest. Zoey had woken up in the early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up. She glanced around, looking for something to keep her occupied and decided on playing with Bea’s hair to wake her up, gently this time,  so they could get their weekly Saturday breakfast.

---

The week after Poppy’s sick and twisted human sacrifice, neither Bea nor Zoey got any decent sleep, and most of what they did manage was simply the result of pure exhaustion and frustration. At one point or another, each of them stood outside the other’s door in the middle of the night, contemplating turning the handle beneath their palm. But Zoey didn’t want to give in and Bea didn’t even know what to do if she did turn it, so they both turned away and slunk back to their own room.

After the first few sleepless nights, Bea starts spending every night on the couch, praying she’ll catch Zoey somehow and miraculously find the words to tell her how sorry she is and how stupid she was for thinking she would have had time, for thinking things would turn out okay at that godforsaken party. She sits with Cutiepie in her lap, scratching his belly and working through all the papers she needs to grade for Kingsley or all her stupid assignments that just keep piling up.

But not once does she spot Zoey, does she find an opportunity to weasel her way back into her life. And every time she thinks about it like that, she can’t help but feel like a pest again, and then all she wants to do is apologise profusely for everything and leave Zoey alone for good. But she actually has to figure out how to say all that, as well as find her chance, and so the cycle repeats, a vicious, cruel, constant cycle.

To make matters worse, Zoey knows how to avoid her, even if she hates doing it, even if she hates that she has to, and even if she loathes that she’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t even sleep without Bea being there. She spends most of her time in her room, studying even though she doesn’t need to, scrolling her phone and noting a clear absence of anything Bea-related, and binging shows that were on her and Bea’s combined to-watch list.

Zoey knows Bea’s schedule, knows her classes and how early she leaves every morning. She knows when she sneaks back into the dorm thinking she’ll catch Zoey out of her room, knows what classes she’s willing to skip if it means finding Zoey sitting at the kitchen counter.

She knows everything about Bea, even the bad and annoying things, like how she hates raspberries and won’t drink hot coffee. How she mumbles in her sleep and refuses to wear socks to bed even though her feet are always freezing. Zoey knows Bea and Bea knows Zoey.

Bea knows how to crack at her walls, knows the stupid little things that warm her heart, like leaving an iced coffee for Zoey before she leaves every morning and pinning notes to Cutiepie’s collar about how sorry she is whenever Zoey agrees to watch him. And she knows how to win Zoey back, too. She knows to shriek along to a boombox in the courtyard to prove herself, and she knows to hug Zoey tighter than ever when she finally lets her.

Bea knows everything about Zoey, even the embarrassing things, like how she sings musicals in the shower and screams at every single scare in horror movies, even the ones that aren’t scary. She knows that Zoey hates spending time getting ready but loves the finished product, she knows that screaming along to the radio while they do their hair and makeup always makes it better.

They know each other inside and out, better than anyone else on the planet, and at times more than they know themselves. They know each other, and they know to fall back into their previous routine after the fallout, to order pizza and pour wine and laugh at stupidly awful movies until they pass out, Bea’s head on Zoey’s shoulder, with her own on top of Bea’s.

And they know just how bad at sleeping alone they are, how much they hated it and how much they never want to do it again. They know how easy it’s been to fall back into their routine, sneaking into each other’s rooms when it’s dark and leaving as the sun rises, a walk of shame with no reason to be ashamed.

They know it’s slowly changing, too, that they’ve started sneaking in earlier and earlier to talk and vent and just stare at the ceiling together. And they’ve started talking about it, joking in the mornings that Bea doesn’t bring breakfast in bed to impress and apologise for the thousandth time. Some days they don’t even sneak, they just stride into one of their rooms together and collapse on the bed, talking and talking until they decide to get changed and go to sleep, words still filling the space between them until they drift off, wrapped around each other every single night, because they are really, really, really bad at sleeping alone.

[hms-chill]

Kicking Underwater

Summary: "He's not going to be the youngest elected congressman in history without earning it, but nobody needs to know how hard he's kicking underwater. His sex-symbol stock would plummet" -- Casey McQuiston, page 3

----

Henry knows that Alex's midterm season will be hard. He knows Alex overworks himself, so he talks to June, and he makes sure he knows exactly how to look after Alex when he's at his busiest. He's ready to come home early when he can, bringing Alex's favorite takeout for days when making dinner together would take too much time. He's ready to drag Alex to bed by two AM, ready to keep him from drinking too much coffee and hiding in the office with the blinds closed all day.

What he isn't ready for is a version of Alex at midterms who seems normal, if a bit more tired. Yes, Alex is working more, but it seems reasonable. They still have their biweekly cooking lessons, and Alex joins him for David's walks sometimes. He comes to bed at reasonable hours, and he promises he's hydrating and eating while Henry's gone. So, even if Alex starts to look more tired or worried, things seem to be alright. He still works hard, he has late nights of studying or dog walks where he spends the whole time thinking aloud about an essay, but it's far from the self-destruction Henry was afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, he's been able to help Alex relax. If Alex looks more tired, maybe it's just showing on his face more than normal. He's tossing and turning a bit more at night, but he always seems to relax when Henry holds him. If he looks more stressed, well, they can't exactly expect a stress-free midterm season. But things don't seem much worse than normal, and June seems happy, so Henry convinces himself not to be worried. He still worries, of course, but he tries to convince himself not to.

There's one week in particular that he's dreading. It's a week when Alex has two tests and an essay, and the class he's a TA for has a test, so he has forty-some essay questions to grade amidst his own studying.

But Sunday ends, and the chaos week starts, and things seem alright.

Alex's class take their test on Monday, and Alex brings home a stack of papers, but he agrees to take a break and walk David while Henry proofreads his essay, and they both agree that it's a good enough essay to call it for the night. Henry thinks it's good enough to turn in, but Alex wants to tweak it, and it's not worth the argument as long as Alex is coming to bed without Henry having to plead.

He looks tired on Tuesday, but he swears he's alright, and Henry trusts him. It must just be the stress of the week. He makes sure to tell Alex he loves him a few extra times, and even convinces Alex to accept a shoulder rub while he grades essays and makes study guides. And really, all things considered, it seems good.

Henry's not sure what wakes him up somewhere that feels like Tuesday night but is technically Wednesday morning, but when he cuddles closer to Alex to try to go back to sleep, there's a light. He opens his eyes a bit to see Alex awake, one hand around Henry, the other furiously typing into his phone. In the light of the phone screen he looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes exaggerated and every stress line deepened by the long shadows. Henry hums, reaching a heavy hand up to push Alex's phone down. Alex looks over in surprise, phone still in place.

"Hen? What are you doing up?"

"You?" Henry asks in place of an answer. Alex sighs.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get some more work done."

Except that, when Alex wants to sleep but can't, he gets up. He'll get a glass of water, or he'll wander down to the kitchen in search of helados, or he'll go to a window for some fresh air. Once, Henry even found him looking up yoga poses in the hallway outside their room. An Alex who wants to sleep but can't is a restless creature, a far cry from the boy gently stroking Henry's hair with a google doc open on his phone. Henry just shakes his head. "No. Stop work. Sleep."

"I can't sleep. I've just got to clean this essay up a bit, and then I can stop worrying about it."

"Please sleep?" Henry asks, finally awake enough for complete sentences. "It'll be there in the morning."

"So will everything else. I just have to get it done; go back to sleep."

"I thought it was done." It's due tomorrow, but Alex had said he'd turned the essay in earlier that day. Henry wonders vaguely if he can re-submit it, or if he'd never actually turned it in.

"It's... fine. It's good enough, maybe, but it's not great. I'm just... making it better so I can turn it in again and have it be great."

"It doesn't need to be great. It's okay. You're working so hard, and you're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask. You don't need to keep working all the time, you need to sleep. You're enough as you are," Henry says.

Alex finally lets him push the phone down as he rolls over to bury his face in Henry's chest. Henry's a bit surprised, but he pulls Alex in close, rubbing his back as Alex's hands grab onto the pajama shirt Henry wears mostly so that Alex can hold onto him if he needs to, just like this. Henry just holds him until Alex looks up and says, "you're the only one who's ever said that. That I'm good enough, I mean. Other people say... they say I'm smart, or good at things, but then I have to keep being smart and good at things so I don't disappoint them. I always, always have to keep... keep being those things without trying, because if they seem me trying, or if I'm not smart or good at things, then they... it feels like they won't like me. But you... you're the only one who ever says I don't have to be anything more than I am."

"You don't, love. You're enough. Everything you do, everything you are... you're more than enough, and I adore you just how you are. I love how hard you try, but it's... you don't need to. Not for me, at least. For me, just being you is enough."

Alex lets out a snort of a laugh, humorless, his hands still tangled in Henry's shirt. "I... I don't think anyone's really gotten to see me trying before. Maybe June knows, but that's because she's smart and knows everything, not because I let her see. I... really, no one was supposed to know how hard I work. It... I'm supposed to just be naturally good at everything; I'm not supposed to have to try."

"Well, that's not very realistic."

"I know, but it... it's how it's supposed to be."

"Says who?"

"Everyone. I can't be, you know, millennial heartthrob Alex Claremont-Diaz if I have to wear reading glasses, or if I'm skipping parties to write essays, or if I drop out of school because I fail con law and I can never look Professor Westbrook in the eye again." Henry presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, trying to smooth the wrinkles there, as he processes that. He can't promise that the world will love a bespectacled Alex as much as he does, or that anyone in their right mind would understand if a law school student has to focus on a test. So instead, he focuses on the last point, knowing for a fact that Alex's con law grade is miles from forcing him to drop out.

"What do you have in con law right now, Alex?"

"A 98%, I think. But we have a test this week, and that midterm paper isn't in yet."

"I think, with a 98% and a very good paper, you're rather far from failing."

"I still could."

"I'd love you anyway. So would your family, and Nora and Bea and Pez."

"Maybe. You'd all be disappointed, though."

"We wouldn't. Or, well, I wouldn't, at least. Not if you'd done your best."

"If... if I tried and still failed, you wouldn't be disappointed in me?"

"Not at all. I love you, and I don't think I could ever truly be disappointed in you for trying." Alex looks genuinely surprised by that, and Henry's heart breaks a bit as he realizes that Alex wasn't sure of this.

"I'm proud of everything you do," Henry says softly, pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead. "I'm proud of your work ethic, and your drive to make things better. I'm proud of you when you ask for help, and when you give yourself a break, and when you put your life on hold to help people you care about, and when you're able to say no to people because you need to do something for yourself. I am always, always proud of you and the good things you do."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't need to be anything more than who you are and want to be. I'm proud of you, and I love you, and you're enough for me, no matter what."

Alex's phone buzzes from somewhere between them, but Alex ignores it to close his eyes, resting his forehead on Henry's collarbone.

"I'm proud of you. Not the things you've done, not the bits and pieces that you let everyone see. You, fully and completely. You're more than enough to make me happy forever," Henry says softly. Alex takes one deep breath, then another. Henry keeps him close, rubbing gentle circles into his back as Alex slowly accepts the compliment.

"I... I think I needed to hear that. I've been... if I tell you something, will you promise not to be mad or take that back?"

Henry nods, and into his chest, Alex says, "I've been working on study guides and essays from my phone while you sleep. Just for the past few days, but I... I wanted to be able to work, but I didn't want you to worry, so I... I waited for you to fall asleep, and then I'd stay here but work on things until I was too tired to think anymore. I'm sorry I lied. And... and that I pushed too hard. I didn't... it wasn't the plan, it just happened, I guess. I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"It's alright. I mean, it's not... I wish you hadn't, but I'm glad you told me, and I'd like to help you look after yourself. If you need to stay up later to work, you can tell me. If we need to skip a cooking lesson or a dog walk or anything, just say the word, and we'll skip it. I'm proud of how much you want to do well, and I'm proud of you for letting me know you're pushing yourself a bit too much. Could I help with the school stuff at all? Maybe I could quiz you, or grade a multiple choice section of some of the tests if the professor doesn't mind?"

"I... I think the quizzing would be good when I have a study guide. And for grading, I... I'll talk to the professor." Alex doesn't move, so Henry presses a kiss to the top of his head and says, "I love you. And I'm proud of you, I really, really am. You're more than I could have ever dreamed of, and more than enough for me."

Alex's phone buzzes again, and Henry fishes it out from between them by the charging cord, reaching over Alex to set it on the end table, switching it to do not disturb. When both his arms are back around his boyfriend, Alex cuddles in closer. He's snoring softly into Henry's chest within moments.

He's beautiful. Knowing what the days before this have been hurt Henry's heart, knowing that Alex has been so exhausted and that Henry hadn't been able to convince him to look after himself. But this Alex, the one who's finally resting, is beautiful. So Henry holds him close, and he kisses the top of Alex's head, and he swears to anyone who might listen that he's going to look after Alex. He's going to make sure Alex knows that he's proud of and supports him no matter how he does in his classes or internship or anything else. And, from now until the end of time, Henry swears that Alex will know exactly how overwhelmingly, unendingly loved he is.

On AO3

Notes:

Me? Writing something to process the terror of graduating from college when all your options are shut down by a pandemic? Never.

-

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[fairyshuuu]

The taste of gold 1/2

.summary. You work in one of the most expensive places in the world. The glitz and glamour is a daily, by now. The one thing you don’t expect, is for the boss to take an interest in you. A really obnoxious, annoying interest. .word count.  9.5k .pairing. baekhyun x reader .genre. fluff

part 1.   part 2.   smut.

There’s a certain range of colors that scream rich. Breathe it, kiss it every day before they go to work, the sound of coins hitting the bank. Soft, gentle colors, like champagne, and peach, and gold, that wrap around you and continue the gentle shades of their skin and warm them from within the cells. There’s royal blue, the color that tastes like the deepest part of the sea, the most open part of the soul, and maybe also the most deceitful part. Rosé, and burgundy, and velvet, colors that stick to your tongue and make a home there, drinking you in. They call attention, shout it at the top of their lungs and while you might never wear rich, you’ve seen a lot of it.

You’ve seen it when you walk out of your apartment, gold glitter reflecting off the dark tinted windows of the private limo that waits for some equally dark dressed woman. When you get off the tram and walk to around the corner to see Heaven’s Gate reflect the sunrise off of it’s spotless glass windows, visible from what you can only imagine is every corner of Seoul. When you walk into the over-sized hall through the back door and tug on your uniform, catching your reflection in your golden name tag. When you scoot in next to the two other girls at reception a few minutes before 6, and glance carefully at the heels so high that they cannot be comfortable. The dresses so soft and shimmery that if you were to look too long you might damage your retinas.

Those colors that scream rich. You don’t think you like those colors. Secretly, of course, you long for them at the same time. You long to touch and smell and breathe those colors, those fabrics, those drinks and those people like everyone else. But they’re not meant for you, you think. They wouldn’t match with the blush of your cheeks, the dark under your eyes and certainly not with the snow white color of your soul on a rainy day. Still though, it’s enchanting to watch, like visiting the zoo for the nth time. You know what types of figures will pass the doors, but can’t find it to look away.

The women with smiles of a million won, diamonds draped around their dainty fingers and necks and littered in their hair like they were born with them attached to their skin. The ones with the long champagne dresses, flaunting their elegant slim shapes and giggling while connecting their arms with the date of the evening. The men with suits that look so crisp that they must have never been worn before, those who slide their black cards across the counter with a smile. Before you got a job at Heaven’s gate, you honestly believed that every rich person was terrible. A stereotype, sure, but one taken from reality, you assumed. Most people here though, are polite, magical at their best and at least helpful at their worst.

There are the few rot apples in the bunch, the teenage boys who come in smoking, smile on their soft lips like the entire world revolves around them and maybe it does to an extent. The girls who give sneers when the bellboy drops one of the twenty-eight bags that were pushed into their hands. But these are exceptions, and so you’ve grown to admire the beauty of gold. You admire the confidence of the people who walk into the hall like they have nothing to lose and everything to gain. You get lost in the eyes of the woman who sends you a wink when you give her a deep bow and rush to hold the door open for her and her pristine blood-red heels.

You eat them up like cherry ice cream, because in truth, you don’t know how long this will last and you long to keep a little bit of the glamour locked in your mind, dusted on your fingertips. Heaven’s Gate is the largest and most reputable housing chain in South Korea, and maybe even all of Asia. It’s only affordable for people who have so much money that they could fill a swimming pool with it, of course, but it’s gorgeous, and the people in it are too. How you ever got a job, even a minor one, is still beyond you. If Heaven’s Gate was a cake, she’d be so sweet that you get cavities just looking at it, if she was a person, you’d beg for a single breath in your direction.

As you carefully sip on a cup of coffee in the back room, you sigh. Even this room, one for the staff that no guest will ever see, is grandiose. It’s almost painful, how much money it must cost to exist in the vicinity of something like Heaven’s Gate. The name is no lie. You let your nail run over the marble counters for a second, and glance around the room. The table is a white marble, chairs decorated in gold, the curtains are a delicate creme and the lights are golden chandeliers that create sparkles on your skin. Your damn coffee tastes like it came straight from up in the clouds, for fuck sake. You take a look out of the window, and press your lips tight. The floor-to-ceiling windows give you a view into the small car park that sits behind the complex, displaying the billions of won worth of cars that have their own little paradise.

The car park is also called the Garden of Eden, and even this is no lie. The cars are shrouded in the shadows of the tall, blindingly green trees, and surrounded by millions of flowers that all somehow look too expensive for a normal garden. There’s a little waterfall that runs from farther into the park, and runs past the first line of cars as if the cars themselves need a nice view too. The large white fountain that lights up in gold when evening falls is just visible from the window here. You sigh, and put your cup down, placing it in the dishwasher under the sink. You don’t need to do this since the cleaning crew passes every two hours, but you feel guilty leaving it out to dirty the beautiful counters.

A gentle knock comes on the door, as you look up in slight surprise. Your co worker Bea walks in with a small smile on her cherry lips, and gives you a little nod. She is, much like you are, dressed in a silk top, a soft gold of color, and a deep coal colored pencil skirt. The gold name tag sits proudly on the right side of the uniform, name engraved into it clearly. Her black heels tap against the heated stone floor as she walks over to you and starts making a cup of coffee for herself. “Do you want one?” She asks over her shoulder, to which you gratefully decline. “Ah, is your break almost over?”

“Yeah,” you glance at the clock once, “I still have a minute and fifty-three seconds.” Bea giggles and nods, while you move to the mirror to check your uniform, just to be sure. When you first got it in the mail, you thought a mistake must have been made. Which employer gives their employees a silk blouse? You’d spent the whole of your first day terrified of spilling anything on the fabric. You quickly understood how important impressions here were, from the bellboys to the chefs in the kitchen, everyone looked like they walked straight out of a fairy tale. You wipe your hands on the soft white towel once, and nod. About time to get back to work.

“Oh, Y/N!” Bea suddenly calls, as you turn to look at her. “Are you coming to lunch later? I want to go but I’m not sure if my schedule will allow it.”

You bite your lip. “I wasn’t planning on going, honestly.” You internally let out a long sigh. All of it is a lot, the company lunches. The morning staff gets to go to lunch at three, to make sure all the guests have had their meals before, and talk and drink until about five. All while the afternoon staff is helping the guests. It’s a whole gathering, and that almost every single workday.

“But you can? You’re missing out on an amazing meal paid by the company because you want to?” At her shock, you giggle, and nod.

“I feel guilty letting Heaven’s Gate pay my food.” You admit, glancing at the clock again. Thirty seconds. You might have to cut your exchange with Bea short.

Bea hums, and takes a sip of her coffee as she leans her back against the counter. “I don’t know if it’s true but I actually heard that the employee meals aren’t paid by Heaven’s. I heard it’s straight out of the Boss’ personal bank account.”

Your mouth almost falls open unceremoniously, but you manage to hold it in. Lunch for hundreds of employees, everyday? “That can’t be, right? Why would he do that?”

“He always says in interviews that he wouldn’t be anywhere without his staff. Maybe he’s thankful.” You look away from the pretty girl to stare at the floor, in shock. If that’s true, the Boss would be even more sickly rich than you thought. But no, that’s crazy. No one can be that stupidly rich. Right?

You’re sure everyone is losing their shit. You’re losing your shit along with them. Your heart beats about seventy times a minute too fast, and your throat is as dry as the Sahara desert. Something about seeing the more experienced employees freak out, made every string in you snap. The boss has never been in Seoul for longer than a week since you started at the company, which means that you’ve never had to interact with him before. Haerin, the head receptionist, touches up her lipstick quickly, before sliding her chair back in place, and presses a hand to her chest. Bea looks about ready to throw up, and you’re sure you must be icy white from stress, or as red as a strawberry.

“Don’t worry, girls.” Haerin smiles as she looks over at you two, but you can see the nerves swim in her eyes too. “The Boss is a nice man, and you probably won’t even have to say anything. Just don’t stare too hard at him with your love-hearts, Bea.” Bea chuckles at the comment, and send the older girl a little glare. At the comfortable banter, you feel yourself relax a little. You’ve been around people who could buy your life more times than you can count. This is worse though. This man is your employer, and he could choose to fire you right on the spot, if he so pleased. No one apparently expected him to pass by today, since he was in Paris ‘till yesterday, but Haerin’s wide-eyed announcement came before you had time to process.

You’re silenced when a car pulls up in front of the entrance, a white Porsche with fire-red tires. Two people of staff rush over to open the doors of the car, and help the people out. The woman that slips out of the passenger side is tall, a model no doubt, and flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder with a gentle smile of her delicately manicured face. She wears a dress as blue as the water in the Bahamas, to match her eyes. The man that slips from the driver side hands his keys to the staff, and says something with a blinding smile, before walking over to hold out his arm to the woman. The man is taller than her, and has beautiful honey colored skin, and black hair. His tie matches her dress. They both make it up the stairs to the entrance, million dollar smiles on both of their faces. The flashes of paparazzi are blinding.

When you glance at your co workers, they seem to relax slightly. Haerin puts on her beautiful welcoming smile, and bows to greet the guests. It’s not the Boss, but still your heart pitter patters almost right out of your chest. Even quicker than usual, you think, Haerin has the room key in her hands and offers it with a smile, receiving the black card of the man in return. She hands it to Bea, who passes it to you, for a quick scan. You then hand it back, and glance back at the gorgeous couple. You might never stop getting starstruck while working here. When the payment confirms, Haerin sends them off with the last bit of info, Bea handing them the flyer carefully. The man gives a grateful nod to each of you, before leading the elegant woman to the elevators.

You don’t get time to process, because a loud growling engine makes a halt in front of the entrance just as the white Porsche is driven off. This time though, the paparazzi are snapping so many pictures that the entire evening sky is light up with white. You straighten your back to look, but all you see is the flashes of cameras left and right. You can only imagine him getting out, sending a charming smile at the cameras, and walking up the stairs confidently. The security turns toward the entrance as well, making sure to keep any paparazzi out. They do this anyway, but this time it seems like it might be necessary. The glass rotating door soon reveals a person, bathing his shape in a glow from the flashes.

When he walks through the door, your eyes have trouble processing. You’ve never seen a person ooze so much confidence. Byun Baekhyun. Ceo of Heaven’s Gate, along many, many other businesses. Only 27, and owns 13 companies, each worth millions, along with some of the most expensive properties on earth. You don’t know how high he is on the richest people list, but the top ten would definitely not surprise you. Baekhyun casually strolls over to the reception smiling like he owns the place, because he quite literally does, and leans his elbows on the pristine pink marble.

You can’t help but stare. His gorgeous face is lined by a sharp jaw, cute button nose and pinky lips fitting on there perfectly like a dolls features. They are accompanied by the prettiest, most enchantingly seductive eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, all coated in a shine that seems to come from the inside. His hair is a shimmery copper brown color, striking against his dark, deep blue eyes. Contacts, you guess, but not any less breathtaking. His suit is a royal blue too, shining in the light like Cashmere, and stretching over his wide shoulders just that tiny bit, as he leans forward. His lips curl up on his cute cheeks, a gorgeous smile slipping on, gentle and proud.

The suit becomes him perfectly, a handmade addition to his entire persona, accenting everything attractive perfectly. Wide shoulders and chest, slim waist, strong legs and a perfectly shaped butt. Not that you’re looking. He’s absolutely, entirely made of gold, you’re sure of it. You are probably drooling. After staying silent for at least a few seconds, Mr. Byun takes out his card, and slides it across the counter towards Haerin, who looks more than a little starstruck too. She gives him a deep bow, and scans the card, smiling nervously. “Good evening, Sir. It’s lovely to see you visit once again.”

The man nods, and finally straightens up, winking at her. “Likewise.” In a split second, Haerin’s cheeks flush a bright red. Mr. Byun looks around the beautiful welcome hall for a bit, as if taking in his creation, and back at the paparazzi outside. It’s only after a second you realize Bea is shoving you with her arm, gesturing to hand her one of the flyers. You flush and hand it to her, right before Baekhyun can see. “Is the top floor free this week, Haerin? If not, my penthouse will suffice.” He brushes his hands over his suit jacket once, and smiles again. You’ve never seen anyone’s face light up so much with a single smile.

“The top floor is free until Friday, Sir. Should I move the reservation of the residents to another floor?” Haerin quickly informs, a small frown on her gentle face.

“No need.” He takes Bea’s flyer into his long fingers with a teasing crinkle of his nose. “I’ll stay on the top floor until Thursday, and then move down to my penthouse.” He gives Haerin another little smile when she nods in understanding and indicates things on the computer. You snap out of your staring long enough to reach into the drawer to your side and take out the key card, handing it to Bea carefully. Room 208, on the hundred thirtieth floor. You almost laugh at the irony. They call it a room, but the home is bigger than your entire apartment floor.

When Haerin hands him the card, he gives her a little bow, and starts walking backwards. He glances through the door for a second, feigning a frown. “Be careful with my car!” He calls, before giggling and looking at the reception desk on more time. As if someone so rich would care what happened to their car. “I’ll see you ladies later. Have a good evening.” As he turns to walk over to the elevators, his eyes meet yours. Just a split second, they meet yours for the first time this evening, and widen. He keeps walking but a second later, he looks again, definitely straight at you. Your cheeks probably flush bright red. Then he’s disappearing into the elevator with confident steps, and out of view.

Bea’s hand wrapping around your arm pulls you out of your dreamy fascination and back into reality. “Holy shit. That was so intense.” She whispers, leaning into you a little. You blankly nod, and look back at the elevator. That must have been the most surreal moment of your life. You know of Byun Baekhyun, of course, you’d be an idiot not to know of your filthy rich boss. The first time you heard his name was four years ago, long into his career but fresh into yours, back then he had black hair and stared you down on a magazine cover as the most influential man of the year. You’ve read about him and seen his pictures more times than you can count but nothing, nothing does him justice. You decide it’s the eyes. They don’t capture the full magic of his eyes.

With a yawn, you settle behind your desk. You’ve never had the night shift before, and you imagine it shows. You’re determined to stay professional though, and blink a couple of times in hopes of getting the need of sleep out. You briefly wonder how many people would be passing through the doors this late, or early, but since it’s enough to have a whole crew work through the night, it must be a decent amount. Then again, you guess rich people have a lot of parties to attend to. Unlike you.

The silence is broken by the back door being cracked open, and a knowing smile walking through. Sehun, you read from his name tag, smiles at you and waves. He walks over and takes the seat next to you, not before placing a large cup of coffee in front of your face. “So you’re the poor soul they got to do night shift, huh?” With a giggle, you thank him for the coffee and take a sip. You’ve seen Sehun a few times around, when you came on mornings early and he left late, and once at the paid lunch. You haven’t spoken much before, but he seems quite nice.

“I volunteered, actually.” At his comically offended look, you break out laughing. “I know.”

“You must either be very dedicated to this job, or crazy.” Sehun concludes, taking a sip himself with a grin. “I mean, if you want a raise I’m sure you could just ask Mr. Byun and he’d transfer some pocket change to your account.”

You snort, looking away. “Yes, of course. That’s how people get raises, isn’t it?”

Sehun hums, before folding his one leg over the other, and leaning back in his chair a bit. He’s wearing the male version of your uniform, white button-up and light golden tie, along with black slacks. He smiles when he sees you looking. “This is your first nightly reception job, isn’t it?”

You nod. “It is. It’s also my first time being with just two behind this desk, if I must admit.”

“You’ll have to hand people keys and scan their cards, think you can handle it?” His grin only grows when you don’t respond. “You know, the nights aren’t that bad. They’re pretty fun, actually. You get to see a lot of people stumble in on stilettos and with partners they definitely didn’t leave with.” This, in all honesty, surprises you. The people who enter during the day are so polished, so spotless, that any doubts didn’t cross your mind. Of course, humans are still humans.

Sehun groans for a second as he stretches his back, before he gets up from the chair. “Give me just one minute. I need to use the toilet real quick. I’ll be back in a flash, okay?” You nod, and watch him leave around the corner with some hurried steps, before taking a deep breath. You look at the windows, who now give a clear view over the fountain, as it lights up the driveway, along with the lines of spots. While you stare, a black Lamborghini rolls up slowly. Your palms get sweaty, as you look back and forward between the car and the way Sehun left. You’ve heard the speech you’re supposed to give new guests a million times by now, but you’re far from head receptionist.

The lift dings, making you scream internally and quickly put Sehun’s chair where it’s supposed to be, standing up smoothly. Out walks, with a casual stroll, Mr. Byun himself. His hair is styled away from his face, wearing a deep brown suit jacket that has the Gucci logo littered all over in sparkling letters. His hands are stuffed into the pockets, bulging them as if that piece of fabric doesn’t cost more than your rent, as his shoes tap calmly across the perfect floor. When he looks over at the reception desk, his eyebrows shoot up, confusion evident on his face. He walks over, before coming to a halt in front of you. He smells really nice, you notice. You don’t have a clue what scent it’s supposed to be but don’t doubt it costs way too much. A hint of sweetness, but laced with masculinity.

“Good evening, Mr. Byun.” You start, hoping the smile distracts from the nervous way your hands are clasped behind your back. “How can I help you?”

Baekhyun smiles at you, something that makes your heart slam, if possible, even harder against your rib cage. His eyes rake down to catch your name tag subtly, as if he doesn’t want you to notice. And if you weren’t staring so hard you would have missed it, too. “Good evening, Y/N. Where has your colleague gone?” His eyes are on yours the whole time, eye contact way too intense for you to take. Your heart really might soon give out if he keeps this up.

“He’s just gone to the restroom, Sir. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

Baekhyun hums in thought, before tapping his fingers on the marble, and glancing behind him. At the other side of the room is a door towards one of the many lounge rooms, now bathing in a gentle dimmed orange light. You doubt there’s anyone in there right now, apart from the serving staff and their champagne bottles. He turns back to you, and fishes something out of his back pocket, pressing his lips together. “Well, I’d like something delivered to my penthouse, please.” He sorts through a stack of at least ten different cards, sliding a gold one over to you. You nod, as you wait for the rest of his words. “Another mini fridge, for on the balcony. I’m sure I once had one but I think I might have moved it to my jet at some point.” He smiles.

You open your mouth to answer, only to realize you don’t have anything useful to say, and nod a couple times in acknowledgement. You slide the gold card towards you and grasp it between two fingers, leaning over to scan it. It slips though, and is sent clattering to the floor in the otherwise silent room. You can feel blood surge to your cheeks while you bend to pick it up, wishing you could just sink into the floor from shame. “I’m so sorry, that was clumsy-” When you get up, you smack your head into the bottom of the desk, and double over with a little yelp. “Aw, aw, aw, aw, aw.” You rub the back of your head when you straighten up, and just sigh. At this point, you don’t know if your nerves give up trying to entertain you or if you’re just numb.

You scan his card, and slide it back over to him, right when Baekhyun chuckles. You look up to see him looking with an endeared smile. “Are you okay over there?”

“I’m okay.” You ensure with a little guilty smile, waving your hands in front of you, and lean over the computer to confirm the order.

Baekhyun leans over the desk though, and into your space. “Let’s see.” He mumbles, gently placing his one hand on your cheek and the other behind your head, rubbing it back and forth gently. Your brain goes so fried that you can’t even make a sound, let alone move. It’s about three seconds of physical contact you were entirely unprepared for. He smiles again, before letting go. “That’s definitely going to be a bump.” You think you mouth a ‘thank you’, but at this point you might have said anything or nothing at all. He puts his card back into his back pocket, and takes a step back from the counter, looking over at his car. “Ah, walk with me?” He motions his head just slightly, as an added nudge to get you to move.

“Uhm- I-” You tumble, wiping your hands on your skirt, “the reception will be empty if I…”

Baekhyun smiles. “I think guests will forgive you walking the owner to his car.” His voice is a tad lower when he teases, going along with the little tilt of his eyebrow. You swallow, and nod, hurrying around the long desk on your heels to walk over to him. Right at that moment, Sehun comes around the corner. His eyes widen significantly when he notices that he just missed the Boss himself, and then even more at you. He sends you a questioning look, that you just mimic as you come to a halt next to Byun Baekhyun himself. You will yourself to wipe the mute look of shock of your face and smile.

Baekhyun holds out his arm, that you grab just ever so lightly, your fingertips barely brushing the fabric of his suit. He starts walking then, a smile on his lips that you catch from the corner of your eyes. You two walk through the door smoothly, into the chilly night air, and descend the beautiful stairs. In the few seconds it takes, you think you’ve gone through about a thousand logical reasons why you’re doing this, and a thousand more illogical ones. Baekhyun grabs the key from the man in front of him with a little nod, and deposits you to wait around the passenger side. He hurries his steps just a little to get into the low car, and rolls down the passenger window.

You blankly watch as he leans over to the console, and fishes through something to look up at you. You bend over so that you can take whatever is in his outstretched arm. “Take this to go get yourself an ice pack and some painkillers, please. I’m sorry about your head.” In your hand are six bills of a hundred thousand won. Before you can even open your mouth to discuss about the huge amount of money he just stuffed into your hands without looking, he sends you a blinding smile and a wave. “Don’t get too cold in that stuffy reception. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too.” You can just mumble, before the black Lamborghini speeds out of the driveway, into traffic.

Bea makes a face, and looks over at you once. “I mean,” she mumbles, stuffing one of the pralines in her mouth like it’s no big deal, “they’re cute, but they can’t be serious, right?” On the counter in the back room lay three golden boxes, with each of your names scribbled on top. Haerin giggles as she too takes out the present, and holds it up in front of her with her eyebrows shooting up. You can’t hold a little smile. In the bow is a pair of extremely soft, thick thigh high socks, black and with little bows at the front. You too untie the pretty packaging and open the box, breaking out in giggles. Bea shakes her head but smiles, mouth dropping open. “I mean, it’s not that damn cold at that desk. This is just overkill.”

“I think they’re nice.” You grin, poking the extremely soft, woolly fabric. You carefully take them out.

Bea glances at you and gives you a little shove. “As a uniform?!” She frowns when you laugh, and place the socks back in the bow. “I’m going to be sweating my ass off.”

Haerin shakes her head. “It’s designer.”

“Of course it is.” You sigh, shaking your head. You glance inside to check the label, and sure enough. Marc Jacobs. You don’t want to know how ridiculous the price of a couple of socks was. You pout, but pop off your heels, and bend down.

“What are you doing?” Bea questions, looking over at you.

“If Mr. Byun wants me to wear these, I’m going to wear these. At least until he’s back in New York or Barcelona or something. I’m not losing my job because I’m feeling a tad hot.” You giggle when you glance over at her begrudgingly put on the socks as well.

“How can I put my heels over this? It’s just silly.” Bea sighs, but she clearly isn’t ready to lose her income either. Not that you’re so sure Mr. Byun would just fire her, thinking back to yesterday. He genuinely seems like a good person, just coated in much more money than any sane person needs. When you turn around to put the box away, your eyes widen slightly. On the inside of the box is a tiny message scribbled in pen, the same messy handwriting as on the top of the box. ‘How’s your head? -B’

You don’t dare tell your co workers, because what would they think of you? Instead, you take the box and the other empty ones, and stack then next to the trash can, before walking out the door and behind the desk. Your head is fine, a little sore but fine nevertheless and you can’t help but wonder why your Boss would care. You didn’t use the money he gave you yesterday, but did go buy an ice pack after work, in the little shop the closest to the station. There’s only expensive stores in the vicinity, and you were not going to spend twenty thousand won for an overpriced luxe ice pack that you could easily get for two thousand won instead. You had just placed the money in a white envelope and placed it on your desk, in a hopes to get to deliver it back to him.

You don’t know if other people would have just taken the money, but you felt guilty about it. As you settle on your chair, the lounge across the reception catches your eye. There were definitely no huge flower bouquets on the tables last night, let alone three luxurious beige leather couches, with gold rims. Baekhyun sure had a vision for his company, and he never seemed to be satisfied. You look away when Bea and Haerin come to take their places too, talking among themselves quietly until they take place, then slipping into professional mode. It’s 6 now, and you only got off at 4 earlier, which left you with about half an hour of sleep, which you decided to skip as well. You just figure you could get an extra long night when you get off at 3.

At around 1 in the afternoon, you find out that you’re really not the type to go without sleep. You can barely keep your eyes open, and keep falling asleep on your hand, only to snap awake when your head bobs too much forward. Bea snickers every time it happens, but doesn’t say anything. She’s also had the night shift a few times when she was a newer employee and she ended up even more zombie like than you. Still though, you keep an eye out for Mr. Byun. He doesn’t pass reception the entire morning, and at two, you start getting a bit fidgety. You’d really like to deliver him the money right away, so that your conscience got a little break. You excuse yourself, and stand up. “I need to go deliver Mr. Byun the documents of the ordered mini-fridge before my shift ends. Would it be okay if I went up now, Haerin?”

Haerin blinks her long lashes at the clock quickly, before nodding. “Of course. He’s still on top floor, I think. And when you go, would you mind dropping off some of the paperwork left here?” You give her a grateful bow, and stand up to take the papers from her. You just did a quick prayer that he would not be at lunch yet, and hurry your steps to the elevators. The gorgeously gold decorated elevators, along with a deep black sort of stone. It wouldn’t surprise you if this too, was marble. You quickly press the button, and cross your arms over your chest. Though you’ve been to visit the ‘rooms’ a few times when you just started working, you’ve never ever been up higher than the fiftieth floor. Both because you’re mildly scared of highs and because that’s where the really, really rich people live.

You step into the empty lift slowly, and brush your hand on your skirt, before pressing the very top floor. Hundred thirty, to be exact. When you said Heaven’s Gate might be visible from every part of Seoul, you weren’t kidding. It’s the second highest building in the world to date. You have to scan your employee card, to get up to it too. With a deep breath, you watch the doors close. The calming music that plays is vaguely recognizable, but you’re too busy flicking your eyes all over the elevator in worry to care. When you get up to floor seventy two, within a sickeningly quick span of time, the lift stops, and opens. In walks a tall man, his stature standing far above you with dark hair and even darker eyes. Your breathing holds.

World class singer Park Chanyeol is standing in an elevator with you. His voice plays through the speakers in the small room. He sends you a warm smile, and presses the button, before the door closes again. Trying to stay professional, you only glance over twice, clenching the papers between your fingers too tight. Park Chanyeol is one of those people you had heard of staying in Heaven’s Gate, but had never actually seen. He’s wearing a dark suit, very crisp and clean looking, and his hair is styled neatly. He’s not wearing any type of make-up, you notice, used to see the singer on magazines in his signature soft glam eye looks. He still looks incredible though. When the elevator reaches it’s destination, he steps out, sending you a little nod of the head.

You only dare breathe after the doors close again, and continue up, watching the floors flash by in an instant. When you finally get up to the last floor, you need to take a deep breath to calm your nerves and gather your wit. When you walk out, you’re surprised to be in his actual house. You’re inside his actual house, without being checked by security or anything. You just look around blankly, and swallow. This isn’t the case with the lower floors, so you’re not sure what to do. “Uhm,” you clear your throat, and knock on the frame of the elevator once, “Mr. Byun? I have the paperwork for your order and the ones that were left for you at reception.”

A soft hum comes from somewhere in the stupidly large place, followed by a raspy voice, no doubt from sleep. “One minute. I’m putting on clothes.” You can feel the heat flush your cheeks, as you look out the window. “Take a seat!” He calls after you, and you move to do just that. The couches are decorated with Gucci logos, most likely custom, and way too soft for a normal person to have. It keeps surprising you, even though it shouldn’t. The view from the wall of windows though, genuinely makes you gasp. You can see the Ocean. That shouldn’t be possible, and yet, you’re so high up that it is. It’s faint, sure, but you can see it. You put the papers down on the coffee table, no doubt designer, and walk a little closer. Though you don’t dare look down, you watch with held breath. It’s like being up in the clouds.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” You turn to watch Baekhyun walk around the corner, his hands crossed over his chest comfortably. He’s in a black, silk blouse, and black slacks. The shirt stretches over his shoulders ever so slightly, keeping it snug. You smile at the fabric choice. He sure has a preference, doesn’t he.

“I’m not such a fan of heights,” you admit, moving back to take a seat in the couch as he asked, “but you can’t deny the view.” Baekhyun nods, crossing the room to take a seat in the couch opposite you. With a polite smile, you slide the papers across the table, and sink back into your seat. “I don’t know if you have need for the receipt of the mini-fridge, but I thought I’d make sure. And the other bundle was sent up by Haerin.”

Baekhyun nods, and crosses his one leg over the other, quickly flicking through the pages. “Ah, taxes, taxes and more taxes. Of course.” He smiles, puts the papers down, and catches your eyes as he gets more comfortable in the soft plush. “Well, thank you, Y/N. I could have gotten them on my way down but still, I appreciate it.”

“I also,” you swallow, putting the envelope in front of him with a slight blush, “wanted to return this. I can’t just accept a sum of money from you, Sir. It would go against everything I stand for and I just… wouldn’t feel comfortable accepting it. Though I am very grateful for the thoughtfulness that you have shown me.” Baekhyun’s smile falters for a second as he opens the envelope, glancing inside swiftly. He places it back on the table just as fast, his mouth corners twitching.

He stands from the couch, and walks around it to stare out the window, stance casual but screaming authority nevertheless. “I hope you like the socks at least. I saw them last night and thought them quite cute. Don’t you agree?” He glances over his shoulder to look at the black socks that cover your legs today, and then at you, eyebrow lifting in question. You nod quickly. “I’m glad. You looked cold yesterday.” He turns to face you. “Do you know why I started construction on Heaven’s Gate in the first place? Do you have a clue?”

You stare at him but are unable to give a useful answer, instead picking at your skirt. “No, Sir.”

“Because I wanted to build the highest building in Asia. That’s the only reason. And investors were kind enough to see the opportunities that would bring and helped me bring it to life. Point being,” he smiles, leaning over you a little top pick the envelope back up, “I have so much money I don’t know what to do with it anymore, Y/N. Do me a favor, and take the money?” He holds the envelope in front of you again. You stand up though, and let your arms hang limply to your side.

“I can’t do that, Byun Baekhyun.” You bite your bottom lip, but stay stubborn, even when Baekhyun’s eyebrows shoot up in an amused frown. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a company lunch to attend. I hear it’s being paid by the Boss himself, and I wouldn’t want to miss it.” You ignore the way your stomach flips when you walk towards the elevator and get in. Just before the doors close, you catch Baekhyun’s giggle as he walks away. You hope you didn’t just lose your job, but hey. Like your parents always say, ‘Don’t let a man buy you what you can buy yourself..’ You smile as you go down, crossing your arms over your chest. Not even a man who makes billions a year.

Safe to say that when you arrive to work after the weekend, you’re more than a little surprised to see a huge bouquet on your desk, a beautiful mix of pinks and reds, with in the middle some sort of golden ornament. You stare at it blankly for at least a solid minute, enough to have Bea creep up behind you. She squeals when she sees it, rushing over to slap your arm. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. How romantic is this?!” You frown, and bite your lip, before shoving it a bit to the side. You don’t have a boyfriend. Along the side hangs a little tag, with the familiar scribbly handwriting, though this time a lot neater. ‘Please bring a stapler up to my penthouse, floor sixty. I’m in desperate need -B’

You roll your eyes, but take the stapler from the drawer under your desk, and stand up. “I’ll be right back. Apparently I need to bring Mr. Byun a stapler.” Bea sends a questioning look but nods, and waves at Haerin as she enters.

“Oh, Y/N,” Haerin blinks in surprise, “I thought you weren’t going to show today. I heard you’d be busy. I’ve already called Minhee into work for today.” You pout, confused. Had you been taken from the schedule to bring him a stapler? Really? You just pull up your shoulders, and look at her, just as lost. “Maybe a mistake has been made. I’ll check.”

“I’ll go bring Mr. Byun his stapler in the meantime, then. If I don’t return, assume I’m busy. Or dead.” The girls giggle when you walk past the reception to make it over to the elevators again. The journey up goes peacefully, and a lot quicker. You exit into the hall, in front of the pretty white door with, you guessed it, gold handles. Was it really necessary to get you to bring him a stapler?  Still, you knock, and wait patiently for the door to open. It does, quicker than you imagined it would. In front of you stands a half dressed Byun Baekhyun, chest still bare and his hair still damp and sticking in wild directions. He takes a step back, to let you in.

“Ah, the stapler. Great. You’re quick.” He doesn’t wait up for you to follow behind, and leads you into the huge place. Top floor might be gigantic compared to this, but you might even prefer it. It’s a two story, for one. Dark steel beams hold up the second floor and make up the staircase, giving it a classy but industrial feel. Still, there’s chandeliers left and right, glamming up the room. You spot the rose-gold sink, and swallow. Right. Rich. You hand him the stapler after catching up with his steps, not daring to look over at him yet. Baekhyun just smiles as a thank you, and picks up the bundle of papers from the dinner table in front of him, entirely out of glass except for the dark steel frame. He makes it a point to staple the bundle in your view, and nods. “Perfect, it was missing just that.”

He hands you the staple back, before moving through a door to your right, as you follow behind blankly. That was why he needed a stapler so damn bad? For a single bundle of paper. Baekhyun soon returns, after having put on a white button-up, a lot more casual than you’ve seen him up till now. He adjusts his watch once, before beaming down at you like he’s a kid on Christmas morning. “I didn’t expect you to come so quick, but that’s okay. We can grab breakfast, and then go on with the day after. I have a meeting at 5 but should be able to make it for dinner.” You blink. Breakfast, dinner? Your face must give off the clear confusion you feel, because Baekhyun pauses. “I need to get a present for a friend, a surprise. And since you were so helpful on Wednesday, I thought you’d make a great model for my shopping spree.”

“Oh.” Is all that comes out of your mouth, as you watch Baekhyun dig through a drawer full of car keys, picking one out and tossing it to you. He smiles when you catch it, and pauses in front of you, giving you a one over.

“You’re going to get blisters walking in those all day.” He motions his chin to your shoes, and turns around to make a thinking noise. “Follow me, pretty please.” He leads you past the kitchen and past the stairs, to another room. It’s a giant walk in closet, which makes your mouth drop open. He walks to the far side, and presses a button to have the shoes rotate and disappear, making place for new ones. “Here. I get a lot of presents from companies, and get a surprising amount of female clothes and shoes each year. You can pick some you like.” You make a noise of disagreement, but Baekhyun grins. “To wear. Today. Just today. Don’t get all worked up.” He moves to leave the room and tuts his lips. “You’ll get wrinkles on your pretty, little face like that.”

You decide to just do as he says and pick a pair of shoes to wear, settling on some gorgeous black ankle boots with a slight wedge. When you walk out, Baekhyun looks up. His eyes rake over you in silence, long enough to have goosebumps break out on your skin. When he looks away, he nods, and gets up from the couch. “You look pretty.” He motions you to follow then, and leads the way. You just know that if he keeps acting this way, you’ll have to quit. You can’t fall in love with your boss, and knowing you that is definitely going to happen if Baekhyun keeps this up. The damn man is too charming for his own good, and he knows it. You follow behind the handsome man begrudgingly, not forgetting to leave the stapler on the kitchen counter as you leave. Stupid stapler.

Turns out, you’ve never been in a Ferrari before. Also turns out, Baekhyun drives really fast, and by the time you get out you must look like a threatened cat. He parks along the side of the road, because why worry about your car being stolen when you can just buy another the next day, right? He walks over to open the car door for you and holds out his hand, that you ignore out of shock and maybe a little because of the car ride. He smiles though, and points towards a petite shop, that looks very expensive even from the outside. You follow him, ignoring the potent stares of the people that pass by, and thank him as he holds the door for you.

Baekhyun tosses his jacket over one of the tables, effectively claiming it, and walks toward the counter. “This is my favorite breakfast place.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder to watch you. You hum and take in all the delicious pastries that are laid out in the display in the shape of a heart. Baekhyun straightens, and looks outside a second. “What looks best to you? I can’t choose.” Everything looks good, you can’t blame him. You do notice that there’s no prices anywhere to be found, which always means it’s overpriced. Still, you hum.

“That right there, with cherries looks so good.” You nod, and look over at him. “And the chocolate truffle thingie.”

Baekhyun nods and smiles, before turning to the lady behind the counter. She has a bright smile on her pink lips, black hair pulled back in a tight pony. “Good morning, Mag.” He drums his fingers on the glass display. “I’d like the usual, and the cherry pie and chocolate truffle cone for the lady.” You turn to stare at him with wide eyes. This little… Before you can intervene, he takes your hand and pulls you to the table he so elegantly claimed. You’re put in the chair, and watch as Baekhyun slides in opposite you, a proud grin on his lips. You have never… met a man this extra.

The woman comes to place your plates in front of you quickly, as you thank her profusely. You keep a glare on your face at Baekhyun though, as he takes a bite of his chocolate chip muffin. When he sees it, he smiles. “Look, I ordered it now. Will you please just eat the damn thing, or are you going to let it get thrown away?” The woman returns with the last place, which just has strawberries, a light pink instead of red. You follow her with your eyes a second. Yup, this place definitely is way out of your budget. “Y/N.” Baekhyun mumbles, as on cue, “It’s my treat. Now please, stuff something in your mouth so that I don’t feel like a huge asshole.”

You sigh, but pick up the little fork, and eat a bit of the cherry pie. You can’t stand the idea of food being thrown away. When you chew, you’re very glad at your decision. It’s seriously heavenly, and you almost moan at how good it is. Baekhyun smiles in accomplishment when you eat too, before putting one of the strawberries on your plate. “Taste one of these too.” He motions, as he picks up his coffee. “They are my favorite.” You kind of don’t want to give in to all of this. Of course, you can’t help your curiosity, and pick up the baby pink strawberry. You pout, a full on puppy eyes-pout.

“It tastes like money.”You mumble sadly, looking at your shoes. This sends Baekhyun into a laughing fit.

From the moment you enter the shopping mall, you feel out of place. Everyone here is dressed to the nines, and while your work wear is far from cheap, you feel silly in your name tag. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to notice, leading you around the place like he’s ready to visit every shop and actually buy things. You sigh. You suppose this should be fun, but it just gives you stress. The bill for breakfast was fifty thousand won, and you now feel a strong need to pay Baekhyun back. He doesn’t need it, but you do. For your sanity.

Baekhyun enters a jewelry shop then, dragging you along. He’s too giddy about this. “Who is this friend of yours?” You instead mumble, and look around the shop, careful not to touch anything.

Baekhyun is looking into a glass confinement with shimmery eyes. “She’s been a good friend ever since I first started. She’s getting engaged so I want to get her the best gift she can have.”

“The most expensive gift.” You blurt, looking around the shop.

Baekhyun turns, frowning slightly. “Not necessarily.” Your cheeks get warm when he sends you a little look, one you can’t immediately decipher. “These products are so expensive because they are made from great materials, by great artisans. Which is why I don’t care how expensive it is. I want the best for the people I care about. I like spoiling people, I guess.” He walks over to the counter and says something to the person behind it, before turning back to you. “Is that a bad thing?”

You don’t answer, though you feel like shaking your head. Instead though, you come to stand next to him. You wring your hands together in front of your lap. “Is it true?” Baekhyun just stares. “That you pay the company lunches from your own account?”

“Yes.” Baekhyun just nods, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I wouldn’t be anywhere without the people who maintain my company. Treating them is important.” You pout, and look away. So he is that sickly rich. “Why do you look so shocked?” He thanks the man when he returns with more necklaces, and turns to you instead. “You do know I make billions every year, right, Y/N?” You don’t. Well, you suspected it, but hearing it come from his lips is something else entirely. Baekhyun seems so normal. He seems like a normal, kind, if somewhat annoying person. He matches entirely to the image you had of him, and not at all at the same time. You don’t know how to feel about that either. Baekhyun, seeming to know you won’t answer, sighs, and taps your arm gently. “Here, I need a female opinion. Pick one.” At your glare, he smiles, and holds his hands in front of him like a shield. “I won’t buy it for you like I did last time, I promise. It’s really for my friend.”

You sigh, and turn to the necklaces, checking each one carefully. If this is what he took you out to do, you were going to do it to the best of your ability. Your eyes land on a dainty little necklace with a single diamond in the middle, and from that, two that would fall down the chest. It’s a gorgeous piece of jewelry. “That one.” You point, glancing over at Baekhyun again. He stands pressed next to you, his eyes on your face. You tuck your hair behind your ear when you notice, and look at the floor. “That one would look really pretty on any girl.” Baekhyun hums, and picks it up gently, holding it between his slim fingers. He takes a step towards you again, and nods.

“Brush your hair back for me.” The whisper makes you stare up at him with big eyes. You look at his shoulders instead when he smiles, and brush your hair from your neck. His arms go around carefully, leaning into you so close you can not only smell his shampoo, but also feel his breath dust over your shoulder. He flattens your hair out a little, and takes a step back. All the while his eyes are on yours. He pauses, and then nods. “You were right. It does look really pretty.” When he takes the necklace back off, you hold your breath, heart beating against your rib cage steadily. A small curl comes to the corner of his lip when you squeak softly at the coldness of his hands.

He places the necklace back, and nods at the man. “We’ll take this one. Please package it well, it’s for a gift.”

When you two leave the store, Baekhyun taps your arm. “Here.” He pushes a small pink box into your hands, different from the black packaging the present had. “This one is for you.” You open it carefully. Inside, is a thin golden necklace, with in the middle of it a tiny little glass-like shape. A diamond bird. You look up at Baekhyun, who is a few steps in front of you now, and swallow. You can’t accept this, can you? “It’s a reminder that you can get over your fear of heights.” Baekhyun explains, his hands in his jacket pocket. “Everyone can become someone they dream of being, you know. I didn’t start with all this money either, after all.”

“Baekhyun, I-”

“I thought it was Mr. Byun to you.” He smiles, before looking around the huge mall, and then back at you. “Please just take it? It’s a present, okay? And more than that, it’s a request. I’ll drop you off in a bit, because I don’t want to hog you all day. But I am taking you to dinner tonight.” Baekhyun smiles when your mouth drops open. “If you say no, I’m not going to fire you, don’t worry.” He shrugs, and sends you another blinding grin. “If you say yes, it’s a date.”

I cut it here because super rich!Baekhyun made me go a little off track and make a huge ass fic, so there will be a part two to this. I hope you enjoyed the first part, at the very least.

If you liked it, please let me know by sending me a message. I’d appreciate it so much. I’ll try to get the next part out as quick as I can, so that you don’t have to wait too long. Thank you for reading!!

[supersworn-inquest]

Inquest #1

Nova City by night was something special. Neon, of course, but also pure teeming humanity. Everyone out for a night on the town, a clandestine assignation, hustling up something to eat or pay rent, sitting in the plaza enjoying some night-coffee and watching the tides of humanity flow by.

Inquest had absented herself from this flow, had set herself apart from the tides and the quotidian concerns of her life by donning the mask. Right now, she was not Sam Sykes, reporter for the Nova City Herald. She was her own best informant, the eyes that watch in the night. And she was on the trail of Katrina Edwards, SVP in R&D at Neogen.

Or she would be, if Edwards weren't pulling her usual: staying late at the office, and then getting right in her private car inside the building's basement garage and being driven direct to her villa in the Hills, where her private security made her unassailable. Another night of watching for an opportunity, and keeping an eye out for anything else that needed her attention around Marshall Plaza, near the Neogen headquarters.

She sighed heavily, scanned the area once more, looking, listening, and feeling with that honed sense she had no name for. Another night on the bea—[Go on patrol, miss.]

The building she was perched atop shook with a sudden blast, and she was thrown from her niche on the pediment. Her honed reflexes and that unnamed sense were all that let her fingertips graze the relief sculpture and hold on. She dangled. Quick, Sam. Another blast is probably coming. Get yourself somewhere stable.

Six seconds, backed by a few years at the climbing gym, all the parkour classes, a length of paracord, and a couple carabiners, and she was lowering herself to the ground in a controlled abseil down one of the Ionic columns and then recovering and stowing the cord. [Face danger, strong hit.]

This was typical: she looks for someone to save, and instead narrowly saves herself. Moments later, the next boom. Dust and pebbles showered down from the architecture above her. Someone was breaking in, it had to be.

She slipped through the shadows around towards the back entrance; it wasn't happening where she was, so that was the other option. Keep low, keep quiet, keep hidden, Sam.

What she saw was the worst thing she could have hoped for: Barracuda. A tall and lean-muscled man, in silvery armour that masked his head entirely, with some sort of apparatus on his back—the rumours were probably true, and he probably did need water to breathe. His gang were clearing out the rubble from the blast, while others waited at the getaway vehicle. What made this terrible was that Barracuda stood with his hand resting (in a pose of firm menace) on the shoulder of Sam's uncle, Lee Sykes. Why him? Not that any other hostage would have been easier, but maybe it would have let her keep her emotional distance better. [Gather information, miss.]

And really, why him? There had to be some connection between him and this building, this job of Barracuda's, something else going on here.

Well, no time to wonder about that now; she could ask Lee later. If she saved him now. A flick of the wrist and she sent two blades flying for his water-tubes. If she was right, and if this could break them, he'd be distracted trying to ensure his ability to breathe and she could get Lee out. [A dangerous fight begins. Enter the fray, strong hit. In control.]

Thnik, thnik two blades hit the two tubes, and water started to gush out. Barracuda screamed, and shouted to his goons to help him. Lee ducked and covered his head. [Gain ground, weak hit.]

Inquest swept in, quick and low, and grabbed her uncle about the waist, carrying him with her momentum right out of Barracuda's reach. That was one less thing to worry about. She wheeled to face the villain as he stood and rose, his tubes wrapped with tape in an emergency fix. [Gain ground, weak hit.]

"I thought something fishy was going on here." She couldn't help herself. It got his attention, anyway. He bellowed, lowered his head, and charged towards her. Now or never, Sam. She ducked and went to sweep the leg. They both went flying, he sideways and into the side of his waiting armoured van, she backwards and right into the granite of the building across the alleyway. [Strike, weak hit. In a bad spot.]

Her head was ringing. Her vision was blurry. She could see him there, but couldn't tell what state he was in—barely understood her own state. If he recovered first, she was done for. Get up, Sam. Get up. She gritted her teeth. Everything that had happened tonight depended on this moment. Do. It. [React under fire, strong hit burning momentum. In control.]

On unsteady feet, she took five, six paces over to Barracuda. His men stood about, uncertain whether they were about to cheer or make a break for it. She stood over him. He looked up, his face inscrutable behind his helmet. One solid blow, and she cracked his helmet's faceplate. He slumped back, unconscious. "Anyone else?" She breathed relief to herself as the goons fled. She was in no state to take them on. [Take decisive action, strong hit.]

Dammit. Her uncle had fled—quite reasonably, she supposed. Normal people don't hang out in fights, especially superpowered ones. She'd have to find him now, and somehow question him without giving away her identity. Once more into the night.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LIZ IN THE HOSPITAL

May 27, 1949

“Liz in the Hospital” (aka “Liz Goes To The Hospital”) is episode #45 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on May 27, 1949 on the CBS radio network.

Synopsis ~ The doctor pays a house call to see what's wrong with George, and discovers that Liz needs to have her tonsils removed!

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) does not appear in this episode.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

GUEST CAST

Florence Halop (The Brooklyn Blabbermouth on the Party Line / Maternity Nurse) was cast to replace Bea Benadaret in a radio show moving to CBS TV called “Meet Millie” when she was hired to play on of the two women on Lucy Ricardo’s party line in “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8) also featuring Hans Conried. She wouldn’t work for Lucy again until 1974, when she played a Little Old Lady on a Western-themed episode of “Here’s Lucy.” In 1985, she replaced Selma Diamond (who had died of lung cancer) as the bailiff on “Night Court.” Coincidentally, Halop, also a heavy smoker, died less than a year later of the same disease. 

Jerry Hausner (Policeman / Baby) was a radio and television actor, best known as Ricky Ricardo’s agent in “I Love Lucy” and as the voice of Waldo in “Mr. Magoo” and several characters such as Hemlock Holmes, The Mole, Broodles and Itchy in “The Dick Tracy Show.”  On Broadway, Hausner had the role of Sammy Schmaltz in Queer People (1934). On radio, he was a regular on such shows as “Blondie”, “The Jim Backus Show”, “The Judy Canova Show”, “Too Many Cooks”, and “Young Love”. Hausner died of heart failure on April 1, 1993. He was 83 years old.

William Johnstone (Dr. Stevenson) replaced Orson Wells in "The Shadow” series and performed on a number of radio soaps. His exposure on “The Shadow” led him to become one of the busiest actors in the radio business. He was practically a regular on “The Cavalcade of America” and “The Lux Radio Theatre”, and later continued his association with Orson Welles with appearances on his radio shows. 

The surname Stevenson may be a tribute to Lucille Ball’s favorite designer, Edward Stevenson. 

Bea Benadaret (Admitting Nurse / Mrs. Benson) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

This turn as elderly Mrs. Benson (her second old lady in as many weeks) may have given Lucille Ball the idea to cast her as elderly Miss Lewis on “I Love Lucy”. Benson was also the surname given to the neighbor that switches apartments with the Ricardos on “I Love Lucy.” 

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers, it’s early morning and the more delicate member of the family is still in bed tucked under the covers, and the strong one has just  gotten up, closed the window, turned up the heat, and is now standing at the foot of the bed.”

That strong one is Liz.  We tells George that it is time to get up and go to work. George says he feels sick.  A sharp pain in his back turns out to be one of the curlers Liz lost in the night. 

LIZ: “Tell me, George, which vertebrae has the Toni?”

Liz is jokingly referring to a series of print ads for Toni Home Permanent that depicted two twins with identical hairstyles and asked which one had the Toni, and which one had the more expensive salon perm. The promotion was so popular that the slogan “Which Twin Has The Toni?” became a part of common parlance. In addition, the Toni name itself became the name for a generic home permanent. 

George says that his throat is sore and Liz wonders if he needs to have breakfast in bed.  He thinks he may be able to eat some dry toast and warm milk.  Liz tells Katie the Maid that George has a little cold.  

LIZ: “You know how George is. One sniffle he’s got the flu, two sniffles he's got pneumonia, and  three sniffles he’s going to leave his body to science.” 

Katie says her first husband Clarence was the same way.  George calls down from the bedroom that he could swallow a little coffee... and force down a little bacon... four slices... and buttered toast.  

LIZ (shouting upstairs): “How do you want your eggs? Sunny-side up or scrambled?” 

This same back and forth was later used in “Ricky Loses His Voice” (ILL S2;E9), an episode that finds Ricky sick in bed when there’s a brand new show to produce. This episode has the distinction of being the highest rated episode of the half-hour series.  

After breakfast, Liz checks on George, who gives a hacking cough after Liz suggests he go to work. 

LIZ: “Alright, Camille. I believe you.”

Camille is a 1936 MGM film based on the 1848 novel and 1852 play La Dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas, fils, is about a woman (Greta Garbo in the film) dying from consumption, a wasting disease that caused the coughing up of blood. The film starred Greta Garbo, Robert Taylor, and Lionel Barrymore. In “The Dancing Star” (ILL S4;E27) during the song “How About You?” Van Johnson sings about “Greta Garbo’s looks” to which Lucy ad libs “Did you see ‘Camille’?”  In “Lucy Gets Into Pictures” (ILL S4;E19), Ricky tells the director “She thinks she’s playing Camille. She’s been practicing dying all day long!”  

Liz says she’s going to call Dr. Stevenson, but George says there’s no need to waste money on a doctor.  

LIZ: “What would Uncle Whoa Bill say?”

The "Uncle Whoa-Bill Radio Club” was an afternoon children's program that aired on KFAC radio station in Los Angeles, California in the 1940s. It was sponsored by the Bullock's department stores.  This reference would have been lost on the national listeners, but gets a reaction from the studio audience.

Liz decides to call the Doctor, but the phone is being used by the party line. Naturally, it is the same old Brooklyn Blabber Mouth on the line, who calls Liz ‘Mrs. Big Ears’.  In the past, Liz has tried to get the woman to hang up by telling her it was an emergency with her husband.  But she has tried that before. 

A party line was a local loop telephone circuit that is shared by multiple subscribers. Party lines provided no privacy and were frequently used as a source of entertainment and gossip. Objections about one party monopolizing a line were common and eavesdropping remained an ongoing concern. By the end of the 20th century, party lines had been phased out in the United States. Although we are never quite sure where Sheridan Falls is located, it would be unusual for a party line to exist outside its local area. Lucy Ricardo contends (and brilliantly dispenses) with a party line in “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8, above, also starring Florence Halop, left).

Liz gives up and goes next door to use the phone.  

Later, Dr. Stevenson (William Johnstone) arrives, but George is resistant to being examined so Liz demonstrates how easy it is.  When she says “ahh” the doctor sees that Liz’s tonsils are inflamed.  She has to have them out first thing in the morning!  

Next morning, Liz is is stalling because she hasn’t a thing to wear. She insists that George call Dr. Stevenson to confirm the hospital room. Naturally, the Blabbermouth is on the line. She wants to know how he’s feeling considering all his illness and injury Liz claims he’s had.  Much to Liz’s dismay, she graciously hangs up so George can make the call. 

In the car, George speeds toward the hospital. Naturally, a cop (Jerry Hausner) pulls them over. Liz thinks that if she gets arrested she can’t go to the hospital so she tells the officer that they are driving a stolen car.  When George tries to interrupt, she calls him Pear-Shape.  

Liz is not referring to George’s waistline, but to the character in the Dick Tracy comic strip named Pear-Shape Tone, who was part of the storyline from April to July 1949. He was a racketeer who would steal jewelry from his wealthier clients, then fence it to make a profit. He must have been quite popular at the time, because this is the third consecutive episodes of “My Favorite Husband” where he is mentioned! 

Liz presses her luck by calling the cop a ‘dumb flat-foot’.  The cop surprisingly agrees with her!  He’s been a rookie for 30 years.  

LIZ: “Just my luck!  Of all the bulls on the force, I had to get Ferdinand.”

The Story of Ferdinand (1936) is a children's book that tells the story of Ferdinand, a bull who would rather smell flowers than fight in bullfights. Coincidentally, a plushie of Ferdinand plays a significant role in the 1940 Lucille Ball film Dance, Girl, Dance. The toy is passed between various characters, having been originally purchased as a memento of a visit to a nightclub called Ferdinand's. The nightclub has a large statue of Ferdinand at the rear of the bandstand. 

It is likely that Lucy used Ferdinand as the model for her costume in the “I Love Lucy” episode “Bullfight Dance” (ILL S4;E23) aired on March 28, 1955. 

They finally arrive at the hospital, where a nurse (Bea Benadaret) admits Liz, who claims she is ‘just browsing’ as if she’s at the dress department of Miller’s Department Store.  

GEORGE (to Nurse): “Dr. Stevenson made the  arrangements. Cooper.” NURSE: “Oh, yes. Tonsillectomy?” LIZ: “No. Elizabeth.” 

Liz has settled into her hospital room. She has a nice roommate, elderly Mrs. Benson (Bea Benadaret, doing the old lady voice she used as Granny in the Tweety Bird cartoons.).  

MRS. BENSON: “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her spirits up, until she goes.” LIZ: “Until I go???” MRS. BENSON: “To the operating room. And I’ll be waiting for her if she comes back.” LIZ: “Tell me, Mrs. O’Dell, how’s Digger these days?”

Digger O’Dell was a character from the radio (later feature film and TV series), “The Life of Riley”.  Digby ‘Digger' O'Dell (John Brown), was known as "the friendly undertaker."  Coincidentally, the very first episode of the first television version was titled “Tonsils” and had Riley (Jackie Gleason) also accidentally diagnosed with tonsillitis. After playing Digger O’Dell, Brown also played Harry Morton on “Burns and Allen”, playing opposite Bea Benadaret as Blanche.  Brown was featured on “I Love Lucy” as Mr. Murdoch, the talent agent, in “The Mustache” (ILL S1;E23) which aired on March 17,1952.

After George over-cranks Liz’s hospital bed, he goes to look for the doctor. Mrs. Benson says she is there for her yearly six-month check up.  A nurse pops in to the room and pumps a spray atomizer a few times and leaves. Mrs. Benson says that’s a special scent to keep the place smelling like a hospital. 

Mrs. Benson urges Liz to get a second opinion. Liz would rather try to make a run for it - when she encounters another nurse (Florence Halop, not using her Brooklyn accent) who thinks she is a patient named Mrs. Johnson.  The nurse brings ‘Mrs. Johnson’ a visitor - her gurgling newborn baby boy (Jerry Hausner)! 

Hausner had a knack for doing baby sounds and voices, and in addition to playing Jerry the Agent, also did the off-camera gurgles of Little Ricky Ricardo on “I Love Lucy.”   

The nurse tells Liz to hold him, but Liz wants no part of it!  

NURSE: “He’s been lying in the nursery all day and wants to come to you for a change.” LIZ: “Well, why didn’t they do that before he left the nursery?”

The nurse won’t take no for an answer and gives the baby to Liz and leaves.  The baby cries.

LIZ (to the Baby): “You think you’ve got trouble. I have to convince George that you’re a tonsil.”

George comes in and sees her holding the baby.  Before she can explain he faints.  After George comes to, Dr. Stevenson is there - to take Liz to get her tonsils out! End of Episode

FOOTNOTES

On television, it was Little Ricky who was diagnosed with tonsillitis in “Nursery School” (ILL S5;E9) first aired on December 5, 1955.  

In a 1969 episode of “Here’s Lucy,” another one of Lucy’s relatives gets his tonsils out - her brother-in-law Harry (Gale Gordon). Coincidentally, Gordon was also a regular on “My Favorite Husband,” although he does not appear in this episode. 

[cryssalia]

Behind The Bars (Chapter 1)

Night in the Woods - Shelter AU

Fandom: Night in the Woods

Characters: Mae Borowski, Bea Santello, Greggory Lee, Angus Delaney, Casey Hartley (Mentioned), Selma Ann “Selmers” Forrester, Jeremy “Germ” Warton 

Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort/Mystery 

Rating: T

Warnings: Abuse, Character Death(s), Usage of Drugs

Word Count: 2293 Words

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night in the Woods nor the characters. 

Summary: Mae Borowski was Possum Springs’ troublesome stray until an animal shelter caught her. Adopted and returned countless of times, the shelter decided to put her down… until Bea Santello decided to step in.   

Author’s Note: First story for the NITW fandom and an AU too so, I’m sorry if it’s not good. This story is inspired by my cat, Julius who is now a huge lazy furbaby. Credit to Fuzzinator23 for proof reading this story. 

Chapter 1 - The Storm

A loud yowl pierced through the night and rain. Heavy footsteps chase after smaller ones, splashes of water drowns into the rain as if god doesn’t want anyone to know what happens.

Another yowl comes through; angry, agonizing, desperate. Aluminium cans falls over as a small figure runs out of one of the cans. The figure is cornered, trapped between a huge wall and two shadows looms over it.

A net is thrown. Yowls and hisses follows as it struggles. One of the larger figure approaches and scoops it up, “No more running for you, kitten,” a low growl comes through.

The cat in the net stops struggling, probably due to exhaustion or fear. Storm still brewing the town. The cat shivers and curls up, letting out soft mews. The net is slung over a shoulder and is taken into a van.

Damp, cold, dark, all the words runs inside her head. Her body shudders, her fur is wet and the floor is cold. She wouldn’t be surprised if she ever ends up sick.

Back to the prison. Cold, dark prison.

She doesn’t want to go back there again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The smell of morning after the rain had passed is refreshing, calming you could say. The soft light of the sun rises from the horizon, a perfect time to take in some fresh air outside and say hello to the neighbors.

…or stay in bed in the weekends.

Which is something Bea Santello would gladly do.

As she lays in bed in a tank top & shorts and blankets over her body, due to how cold last night has been, she regretted to not wear long pants & a shirt with sleeves but she could care less.

Except the fact her clock has been buzzing for a while now.

A claw extends and knocks it off the nightstand. At least the sound of the impact startles her enough to elicit a groan from the woman and forces her to move to the edge of the bed. Opening an eye halfway, she glances down.

9:45 AM.

Shit. Overslept again.

She picks up the digital clock and places it back on the nightstand before getting up. The gator yawns as she stretches herself and gets herself into the bathroom. Taking a quick hot shower and brushes her teeth, Beatrice gets herself ready for the day.

The store ain’t gonna open by itself. Ugh.

Even on weekends like this, she must open the store.

She puts on her signature black dress and hangs an ankh necklace around her neck. She looks at herself in the dresser mirror. If she looks closely, she could see the bags under her half-opened eyes. As if her dull blue eyes aren’t enough to tell how tired she has been.

There’s no use complaining about it now. She has done this for years. So, she sighs. Last night’s coffee would be good enough to provide the energy for the day.

For the day.

She still needs energy for night as well.

Chugging down a jug of coffee sounds like a good idea. Well, she was fixing to do that when she got to the kitchen, if only she didn’t glance at the clock.

9:58 AM.

Ah, shit.

But she still chugged down the coffee like how she wanted to.

She grabs a box of cigarettes and lighter from the counter and heads for the door. Hastily puts on her boots, she puts a cigarette in between her lips and lights it up, inhaling some of the nicotine from it.

It doesn’t really go well with caffeine.

Screw it.

Might as well, the horrible taste will keep her awake enough to go through the day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Like any days in autumn, it is a very long day.

Well, for Bea at least.

Everything in her life IS a very long day.

Puffing out smoke, the smell of nicotine engulfs her and fills up her nostrils. It might have reached her brain and slowly killing her.

Eh, she wouldn't mind being dead. So long she didn't have to stand behind the register and check stocks in the store.

Ol’ Pickaxe has been standing for as long she could remember. She basically runs the store now, considering her father wouldn’t bother handling it himself. The tip of her tail taps on the floor to fill the silence in the empty hardware store.

She sits on a stool at the side and grabs a pamphlet from the counter. Might as well read while waiting for anyone to walk in. But the paper has been the same; all about the dead mines Possum Springs had once long time ago.

Possum Springs; a middle-of-nowhere-and-dying town. A hole which she would gladly leave, if it weren't for the fact that her father needs help from his only daughter. Stays on the couch, watching tv, drink or sleeps are the things he has done. .

Ever since her mother died.

Of cancer.

Which she really doesn’t like talking about.

Or bother thinking about it.

So, her dad shuts down and, like it or not, she has to stay and help him recover; starting by taking over the shop.

Which is what some people would say.

Ugh.

Bea sighs as the cigarette in her mouth has shorten. She takes it out and stamps it into the ashtray nearby, before taking out another cigarette from her dress pocket and lights it up as she places it against her lips.

Sucking in the smoke, she sighs heavily. Her shoulders slumps, the taste of unsweetened coffee still lingers in her mouth.

It’s disgusting.

Eh, works for me, she thought.

The sound of the bell from the door rings. She looks up, seeing a familiar bear tipping his hat as he approaches her. “Good morning, Bea,” Angus says.

“Hey, Angus,” she says. Angus places his hat back on his head and his ears perks up.

“You look worse for wear. Is something the matter?”

“Stayed up late. Overslept. Drank a lot of coffee this morning and wish that I could die right now.”

“You do realize smoking and coffee are bad together, yes?”

Bea shrugs. “Eh, so long as it keeps me awake. And I smoke to release my stress… which is all the time, mind you,” she says, squinting her eyes at him.

The man sighs and adjusts his glasses, “Then why not take up my offer, will you?” he says.

The gator is silent for a moment and Angus patiently waits for an answer.

But she already raises her hands. “I will not have a pet, Angus. I have enough things in my hands and I do not need a pet. I’ve been doing fine for quite a while now,” she protests.

It isn’t the first-time Angus suggested it. He has been telling her to get a pet, said it will help her to release her stress much effectively and they can be a good friend to her.

But also, there will be more mouths to feed.

As if her father isn’t enough to look after for.

She turned them down so far, but the more she did, the more frequent Angus brings it up to pique her interest.

Angus sighs once again. “Well, if you already decided that then. But could I ask a favor from you then?”

“Uh… sure, I guess. What is it?”

“Come with me to the shelter.”

Bea stares, trying to process what he just said, “…what?”

“Come with me to the shelter,” he repeats. Her blue eyes squint at him again as if trying to eat him whole.

“Angus, I told you-…”

“I’m getting a pet for myself, Bea. And the shelter is at the other side of town, so I need a ride from you.”

She was going to say something about it but she decided not to. She had seen the shelter once when she went there to deliver the tools they ordered. It is pretty far from where she lives and if it isn’t for Angus’ asthma, she would’ve turn it down.

Plus, she’s driving.

She can get out of work early since she’s the only one in the store today, like always.

So, she agrees.

She’s not the one that’s adopting… right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cold. It was literally cold when she steps inside the shelter. The inside, unusually, looked no different from a medical center and the air conditioner’s air is so strong she could’ve died from freezing to death here. It was white, excluding some plants, toys and magazines on the coffee table.

This place reminds her of the hospital.

She hates it.

Angus goes up to the reception while Bea decides to stay in the lobby to read the magazines as she waits. He’s led to the back by the receptionist, who is a goat. Already, she’s bored after leafing through few pages of the magazine in her hand. She closes it and was fixing to light up a cigarette, but the shelter has a strictly “No smoking” policy.

Great.

So, her tail taps on the floor impatiently. She looks around, trying to take in the interior and sighs. She really hopes Angus would be quick because she’s bored to death.

Which is not, the kind of death she wanted.

Eh, whatever.

Still, she looks around and her eyes settles on a cage. An obvious black cage amongst the whiteness of the walls and floor. There’s was someone, or something in the cage curling up.

Is it one of the pets? Did it just get here?

She gets up and approaches, kneeling next to the little cage. Whatever’s inside is shielded by a cloth so she pulls it off. A cat. A small, navy blue cat wearing a brown and red shirt and black pants. The tip of the hair is red along with it's tail, which wraps around it nicely.

And covered it's face.

Bea makes sure no one’s around before she gently pokes the cat with her claw. The ears twitch and she immediately pulls away, slightly shaking the cage when her claws hit the bars. The ears perk up; she could see the right ear was notched, making it look like a bite mark.

The cat yawns and stretches itself as much as it could. It opens it's eyes, which are larger than any normal cats she has seen in the neighborhood. Red eyes, brighter than Bea’s, blink several times before they stare at the young gator.

“Can I help you, miss?” A gruff voice greets from behind. She turns to see a bear, much older than Angus. She could see the faint wrinkles on his face and a name tag on his shirt written; Hank, dressed in all white, so she assumed he’s the vet. She scratches the back of her head.

“Just… checking this little fella here,” she says.

“Oh… I’m sorry, but she’s not up for adoption anymore.”

This pique her curiosity a bit. She looks up to the older bear. “What do you mean by that?”

Doctor Hank lets out a heavy sigh. He seems reluctant. Bea was about to say something but the man cuts her off, “She had to be put down,” he says with a low voice.

Those words… ‘put down’, are poison to her ears. Irritating, hurt. Her usually tired, dull blue eyes widens in shock. She glances at the cat in the cage who now tries to stand, but she couldn’t due to how small the space she’s in. But she stares, beaming at her.

“Is… she sick?” Because that’s the only reason a doctor would be putting down someone. Sickness, a terrible sickness that has no cure.

Like cancer.

Like her mother.

Shit, why the hell does she have to remember that?

“It’s more to her behavior. She’s… too violent, even to other pets in this shelter. It’s one of the reasons why she’s inside the cage instead at the back with the rest.”

Behavior? Violent? Is that why they want her dead?

“She’s that bad?” Bea asks, her tone hardened without she realizes.

Doctor Hank notices that and sighs, “She has been adopted four times this month and returned in the same day. The longest she’s ever been with a foster family is a whole day. But the next day she was returned. And the complaints are the same; stealing food, bullying others and vandalizing homes,” he explains.

Those things should have be enough to convince Beatrice to not adopt a pet. But she kept glancing at the cat, who now approaches the bars and reached one of her paws to her. Bea doesn’t move, not even when the cat grabs one of her claws.

Curious like a child, she thought. She has seen other pets who are a lot larger than her, even other cats in the neighborhood. She looks innocent enough to not cause all that.

Well, maybe she would but it couldn’t have been on purpose.

Right?

“What’s her name?” Bea asks.

“Pardon?”

“Her name. What is it?”

“Mae Borowski. 20. But too small despite her age. Probably a disease regarding to her growth.”

Dwarfism, she thought. That could be it. Maybe. She’s not very keen with all those medical terms. She looks at Mae for a moment and, unexpectedly, she opens the cage. Doctor Hank tries to stop her, but he stood at the side when Bea holds up her hand.

Mae crawls, no, rolls out of the cage like a ball and sits up to look at Bea. The gator gently pets her, her fur is oily and sticky. She feels slightly upset by how Mae was treated, even though Hank said she will be put down.

Poison. Those words are poison.

Behaviors can be fixed.

She can be fixed.

Bea looks back at the man. “I’m adopting her.“

[sttngfashion]

True Q - 6.06

Oh, Q, you rake, you scalawag. You’re so mischievous that you’ve snuck into one of these mostly-unis episodes like the scoundrel you are. Also I believe this episode title, much like Return of the King, contains a spoiler within the title. But we’ll get there.

“Don’t even try to out cheekbone me, girl. I’ll eat you for lunch.” —Bev

This blondie is Amanda Rogers (and boy does she look like an Amanda Rogers), and she’s an... intern? She’s 18 years old and is eventually supposed to go to Starfleet Academy but has somehow beat out a bunch of other youngsters for the opportunity to work on the Enterprise before she goes to study. She’s perky and a know-it-all and wears colors that must have been picked out by a girl who grew up idolizing Glinda the Good Witch. She’s rocking that square neck that we’ve seen before, but it’s doing a weird thing with that waffle undershirt she’s wearing, and I’m not convinced any of these colors works with her skin tone. 

RIKER, SHE IS EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD. Get out of her personal space.

Riker is showing her her quarters which, to be fair are pretty lush for someone who should be preparing for the horrors of dorm life. On the other hand this room is definitely not meant for youngsters.

Yes that is a tall skinny bottle of curaçao with matching glasses on the coffee table.

Anyway, after Riker is all up in her personal space, he leaves Amanda alone and suddenly... puppies appear. No, really.

Is it just me or is she wearing Jellies?

Who cares, PUPPOES! They are so floppy and foldy and adorbz central. (Side note: that desk chair is def from Staples.)

Behave? More like BeeHIVE, amirite?

I don’t really understand what is happening here as for most of the rest of the show her hair looks normal. Maybe her hair just got excited by the PUPPOOES!

So after these puppies mysteriously appear, she tells them to disappear, and they do, though kind of reluctantly. And that’s the end of the Teaser. That’s right: after the last puppy disappears, we get the DRAMATIC MUSIC because DISAPPEARING PUPPIES. I may have guffawed.

Okay, plotdump: later on, Amanda saves Riker from getting bonked on the head by a falling barrel or something, and then after that, stops a warp core breach with her hands. WHAAAAAT? Also, this is hand motion she makes when she saves Rikes.

Oooh, I love shadow animals! What is it... an elephant?

Anyway, because this GIRL has magically SAVED THE WHOLE GODDAMN SHIP there needs to be a MEETING.

“Her hooters were like, this big.” —Geordi

Sorry, sorry, I’m being base. Have Deanna’s eyebrows always looked like they were made out of smoke?

Obviously though, this meeting is dumb because we know who’s behind this.

Who decided to design the conference room chairs with an omnipotent douchebag recline setting?

I mean, you gotta give John de Lancie his due: no one can do all-powerful schmuck quite like he can. But he’s only wearing his “I’m crushing so hard on you, Picard” command red uni, so blah.

How’s the rest of the senior staff feel about Q’s arrival?

From left to right: not having it, pissed, I can’t believe this, are you kidding me, and uuugggghhhhhhhh

Everyone is earning their episode rate in this shot, but Beverly and Geordi are owning it.

So it turns out that this girl is Q, but Q has been sent to find out if she is TRUE Q. I think if she’d turned out not to be, the episode would be called True Q? or Untrue Q or FALSE Q. But you know now how it’s going to end.

Still, we have to go through the motions.

Okay, Q, now you’re really in her personal space.

I suppose there might be some perfect metaphor of discussing Q-privilege but frankly I don’t think I’m smart enough to do it.

OH NO NOT THE DECORATIVE PLATE AND BOWL!

Also it’s amazing the extent to which this is clearly a stunt double. Also also: no more decorative spotlight on the artifacts. The computer was able to sense what was coming, I guess.

I can’t remember exactly what happens here but Gates just looks so awesome and sassy that I had to put it in.

Sorry guys, it’s a low-fashion episode. Oh, but hey, here’s a fashion!

Ghost Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamsweater.

It’s hard to make out exactly what’s happening here, but as best I can see, from left to right again: block gray, block plum, block grape, block grilled peach, block mocha, AMAZING SWEATER OF ALL YOUR MOST BEAUTIFUL COLORFUL DREAAAAAMMMZ. 

These are Amanda’s parents, who it turns out were Q also? I can’t remember what the release of information is like in this episode but basically the Q Continuum MURDERED Amanda’s parents because they wanted to live in Nebraska or something. Which, like, that’s not nice, but also... Nebraska? They were killed by a freak tornado which was engineered by the Q but also IT COULD HAPPEN.

In other news, I have four nostrils and this one dope chain.

Also, this individual has Bea Arthur’s hair. I am 100% not mad at it.

Oh man, I’m really murdering the plot of this ep... these people need help of some sort and Amanda and Q are NOT HELPING. There’s a whole thing where Q wants to take Amanda on Q lessons and so they speed up some experiment that Bev has Amanda doing, but that ruins the experiment or something? I wanted to be like “listen, Q, either you’re doing omnipotence wrong or the writers are” but I love this show so I kept quiet.

What’s Q lessons mean, btw?

WE’RE STANDING ON THE BACK OF THE SHIIIIIIIP

So this is one of those shots that I have basically remembered pretty much exactly since childhood because WHAAAAAAAAT. Looking at it now I’m skeptical as to whether they’ve gotten the scale right, but I guess they’re Q so they can be big as they wanna be or whatever.

Speaking of other things they want.

Welcome to my weird Pride and Prejudice fantasy, complete with gazebo

I mean, everyone is entitled to their own fantasy, but you are wearing lacy pink things and the strangest tartan belt ever seen, and your hair seems to be fashioned after those vines growing up alongside that latticework. Who’s your Mr. Darcy?

WORLDS COLLIDING

Where to start? The velour jacket is great, but the fancy lapelwork there is something I’d more expect to see alongside the jacuzzi that Lwaxana Troi and Worf’s son Alexander were hanging out in. Really the only thing that’s okay about this scene is how uncomfortable Rikes looks in it.

Of course, since the first scene with Riker and Amanda we’ve all been feeling that if anyone is feeling some kind of way about anybody, it’s Riker for Amanda (ew). Still, though, he does the this is not appropriate routine, until she realizes the full potential of her Q-ness and makes him fall madly in love with her.

Disclaimer: I am a gay man. But what is happening to her breasts.

I mean, that just cannot be comfortable. Also, bless Frakes for being like “well, I guess the script calls for me to get all up on this 18 year old.” Anyway, she knows that it’s not real so is not into it. Unanswered question from the episode: DOES RIKER REMEMBER ANY OF THIS?

Okay, so basically it comes down to: does Amanda stay and finish her internship or does she go with Q to join the Continuum and basically become a god? Let’s take a look at Amanda one week after her internship starts:

This job has destroyed me

So first of all, why she gotta always wear unitards with weird textured minidress operations on top? Second of all, though, at least this color is not quite so bubble-gum flavored. This is a lima bean and overdone spinach combination here, which, okay, not super appetizing, but at least she doesn’t look like she just jumped off the Candyland gameboard. Also, those tendrils of hair! That’s how you know she is not playing around anymore.

This planet is burnt

Listen, you guys, some other stuff happens, but I had several glasses of wine while watching FEUD so I’m just gonna wrap it up with this little side-by-side: this is the planet 4-nostrils Bea Arthur was from and that the Enterprise was trying to help, and Q is basically like “Amanda, if you can stop using your Q powers then you don’t have to come be part of the Continuum, oh but here’s a planet with a whole lot of people that are about to die, SHRUG.”

I mean, of course she saves it. The show didn’t have enough budget for an intern character.

UGH FINE I GUESS I’LL GO BE A GOD.

Still, she gotta say goodbye.

“Good luck girl, but don’t ever come for me the way Q comes for Jean-Luc. Because I will own you so hard.” —Bev

Have a great week, everybody! 

[angstandhappiness]

BAH HAH

I needed to draw this headcannon about my favorite joke from the entire franchise.

Also, I want to see little Shadow and Maria just being little gremlin children.

bonus

[thepinkmarlinguy]

BEANS

I needed to draw this headcannon about my favorite joke from the entire franchise.

Also, I want to see little Shadow and Maria just being little gremlin children.

bonus