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leascorner · 4 years ago

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j.b.b. | Marley

Summary: Eventually, Bucky gave his deepest secrets away and you let him know yours. Her name was Marley.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: Mention of past and present relationships, parenting, mention of food

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: This is my first story posted on here. I’ve been writting for +12 years now but for the last couple of years, I couldn't finish a single story. Turns out Bucky Barnes was all I needed to get over my massive writer’s block. Feedback is greatly appreciated. (Also, english is not my native language so if you spot any grammar mistake, please let me know!)

Masterlist

It all began with his friend, Sam.

On a night they were out for drinks, he had made it his mission to find someone for Bucky. Someone or anyone for the matter. He talked to everyone in the bar that night, while Bucky drank his beer, sitting at the counter. When it was clear enough that nobody there that night would keep grumpy Bucky company, Sam turned his attention on the dating app his friend had downloaded on his phone some weeks ago. He probably went through a dozen of profiles, sometimes showing the phone screen to Bucky, to what he would just respond by rolling his eyes and drinking some more beer.

That was until Sam showed him your profile. Bucky stared a second longer to the picture displayed on his phone screen than for the others. He couldn't tell what that was: the smile on your lips, the wrinkles at the side of your eyes or simply your eyes; but he couldn't get his eyes off it. Sam immediately started typing a message for you to what Bucky obviously protested. He did not need company because he was just fine on his own.

Despite his super-soldier abilities, he wasn't quick enough to take the phone from his friend's hands. The smile that appeared on Sam’s face annoyed Bucky even more. "What are you afraid of, though guy?" Sam had asked and Bucky eventually backed off, letting him do whatever he was planning on doing. There was no point in stopping Sam. He knew you wouldn't be interested anyway... To be honest, who would be? Bucky got his phone back along with a smirk from his friend. There was no answer after that, and Sam eventually found another topic to annoy the heck out of Bucky.

When he woke up the next morning, your reply notification was patiently waiting for him. For a second, he thought of deleting it, without having a look first. What did he have to lose? Gathering his courage, he opened it. Your words were as genuine as your smile and it made him grin like an idiot, though he made a mental note to later murder Sam for his poor choice of pick-up line. It took him the whole morning to be able to type an answer and another afternoon to press the ‘send’ button. It was the first text of many. Eventually, a lot of texts turned into calls; that turned into meeting up in your favorite French bakery; that turned into movies and restaurant dates.

This was nearly one year and a half ago.

Your relationship with Bucky was cautious and steady. He liked how you would give him his space, but still being right there for him. He liked that you let him stare at you in total awe or that you always had small kind thoughts for him like when you made his eggs the way he preferred in the morning and that everything was so simple - obvious even - by your side. Eventually, Bucky gave his deepest secrets away and you let him know yours.

Her name was Marley.

If Bucky was being honest, finding out you had a two and a half years-old daughter was quite the shock. Not that he couldn't have seen that coming; you would always make plans, your handbag was always full of snacks and hand wipes and for some reason, you would never be available between five and eight p.m. That was also what he liked about you. The stability.

The idea of being involved in a relationship with somebody that already had a child did scare him off. If he decided to continue the relationship, it would not only be a matter of breaking your heart in the process – and well, maybe his too - but breaking a child's heart too. And that more than anything, he was refusing to assume the responsibility, but he owed you that much. You knew his deepest secrets and still, you didn't run away from him. Worse, you trusted him to be around your child.

You both had a lot of discussions about him meeting Marley - Bucky even seek advice to Sam. And as for the rest of your relationship, you took it slow. It started with Bucky showing up to your Sunday walk in Central Park, feeding up the ducks and sharing snacks. You also spent some time at the carnival where he would watch you two on the carousel – sometimes joining the ride too - and he would help Marley win at pick a duck or buy her popcorn. Eventually, he would spend more time with the two of you. It started with spending at least one evening per week at your place, making dinner while watching you playing with Marley in the living room. One evening turned into two, three, five evenings per week. He still could step out if he needed. You still could spend time with your daughter where he wasn't there. You still spent time just the two of you, when Marley was asleep at night or he would take you on date nights. The routine you three put in place was nice, but Bucky wasn't planning on taking Marley’s dad place. God, he would never see himself as a dad and Marley already had one - though in Bucky's opinion, he would not be awarded father-of-the-year.

Today, Bucky was picking Marley up from daycare.

He had done it a million times already, but this time was a little bit different. He was doing it on his own. The babysitter stood you up and you were stuck in an endless one-day meeting. You had called in utter panic, asking him to pick Marley up from daycare and taking care of her until you would be home. He had assured you he would do it and it would be fine. Now that he was standing in front of the building, he was doubting himself. He didn't know if he could do it on his own.

Another shaky sigh and Bucky entered the building. The childcare workers greeted him when he showed up at Marley's room. She was sat at one of these tiny tables making some kind of collage crafts. He planned on waiting for her to finish, just staring like he always did, before announcing himself, but Marley spotted him the second his figure appeared at the door.

"Bucky!" Marley cried out, leaving everything behind and running towards him.

"Hey Mar-Mar," he smiled. She always seemed happy to see him and Bucky wondered if she would eventually grow tired of him being always around.

After they hugged each other, Marley was called to put away her crafts and Bucky encouraged her to go do it. In the meantime, he collected her stuff - her panda backpack, shoes, and coat - so he could get her ready to leave. And he did just that when she got back to him.

"We are taking the train home. I'mna carrying you, is that okay?"

She wrapped her little arms around his neck in response and he lifted her up from the floor. After sharing goodbye to the childcare workers, they were heading home.

On their way to the station, Marley explained in every detail what she had done at daycare that day; Bucky was listening carefully, sometimes asking questions - Carol, she is the one with the curly hair, right? Was Mark mean to you again? - but mostly he was just nodding along. They made it to the station just in time to take the 5:17 p.m. train. It was rush hour and Bucky mindfully chose to hop on one of the cars at the end of the train - the ones he knew would be the less busy at this time of the day. He had only seven stops, so he didn't sit and stood against one of the train windows. By that time, Marley had finished reporting on her day, and she was just watching around, smiling at anyone she would make eye contact with.

After the second stop, her eyes caught the sight of the dog tag around Bucky's neck. She fiddled it through his T-shirt, probably wondering what that was, before taken it out to have a closer look. In her tiny hands, the metal tag seemed to be huge. She looked up at Bucky, with bright eyes and he swore, he would do anything for these eyes.

"What is that?"

"Uh- " Bucky wasn't sure how to explain it in a way a three-years old would understand. "-Every soldier has one. It uh- has my name on it and some other information."

"Is it if you get lost?" she asked, her little eyebrows raised high on her forehead. She did understand a lot of the world around her for her age. "Mommy put a card with her name and her phone number in my bag."

"Yeah, it's something like that."

Marley smiled at him and returned her attention on the letters’ reliefs on the metal. By the fourth stop, she was resting her head on his shoulder while he was still firmly (but not too much) holding her with his left arm. She kept holding his dog tag in her tiny fist and was patiently waiting.

"She is very sweet," the old lady sat on the seat in front of them said to him before leaving the train.

He nodded shyly and looked back at the little girl in his arms. Marley looked so much like you. Her face had still some baby features, she just turned three after all, but she had the same nose and her eyes had the same color as yours. They were the same piercing eyes that when they’d look at him, he felt like they could read his soul. And she did not just look like you. She had also some of your habits and personality traits. She would always be smiling to people she didn’t know. She was always saying ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’. She was obsessed with any kind of animal; the Sundays walks would last forever if she could pet all the dogs she encountered.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Bucky got off the train on the seventh stop as planned. At the station, people turned on them as they passed. Maybe this was an odd sight: a man in combat boots, dark jeans, and a black leather jacket, carrying a small child in his arms. Especially knowing the kid in question was wearing white leggings, a red fluffy coat, and a stuffed panda backpack. Bucky didn't mind and continued his way to your place.

Marley stayed quiet for the five minutes’ walk to your place, but once Bucky had turned on your street, she wriggled to be freed of his hold. Once her feet touched the ground, she directly ran towards a car parked not far away. She squatted down and started clicking her tongue. A ginger cat immediately came out from underneath the car.

"Careful," Bucky called out. He knew it was not recommended interacting with stray cat as they could be sick with all sorts of disease. And to be fair, it got him a little worried the cat was getting this close to Marley. He could already see her getting bitten by the cat, getting rabies, and losing her arm, or worse: dying.

"That's Gus, he lives at number 7," she said pointing at the building they stopped in front. It had the number written on it.

Gus started rubbing itself against Marley's shins and she gently petted his back. The cat then went to rub on Bucky's combat boots, also greeting him even though they never encountered before. And it continued his way to the building's porch, where it lazily lay down.

"Mommy said we could have a cat when we get a house."

"I've got a cat," Bucky stated and Marley cried out in excitement. She asked him about a hundred questions. What was its name? What was it looking like? Was it friendly? Was it sleeping in his bed with him at night? Bucky never failed to answer one of her questions and they talked about that until they made it in front of your apartment door.

Marley was already on her way to her room when Bucky turned around after locking the door. She had removed her shoes and coat on her own and left them behind without putting them away like you would always request it.

"Uh-uh, we go wash your hands first, okay?"

After that was done, she ran to her room for good this time. Bucky went back to the living room and focused on what he could do to help you. He knew you would get home exhausted from your day at work and he did not want to have you do all the chores you usually did. It was the least he could do.

Somehow, your place was always tidier than his, and he lived on his own. In the kitchen, he found breakfast dishes in the sink and the dishwasher full of the dishes that had been cleaned the night before. That was where he would get started. He put away the dishes easily; he had been around your kitchen a lot those last months and he knew exactly where everything was. He even knew where you were hiding away the chocolate and candies; somewhere Marley didn't have access to.

"Hey Bucky, can I have snacks?"

A look at the watch sitting on his right wrist, she had still a good hour and a half before dinner and he replied positively. He wiped his hands on the dish towel resting on his shoulder and took one of these bamboo sectioned plates he just washed. He was reaching out to the first cupboards in front of him when it suddenly appeared to him, he had no idea what he could give her.

"What does your mom usually give you?" He asked Marley, turning back to her.

Marley shrugged. "Carrots and hummus." And Bucky swore this kid was eating healthier that he ever had.

He started by the fridge, looking for anything he could give to Marley. Thankfully, she wasn't a picky eater so it would be easy for him. Tonight's dinner was in it, along with some vegetables and fruits. He chose grapes because it was the only food, he could see himself eating at that time of the day.

"Grapes and uh-" he looked at the cupboards right next to the fridge "- crackers?"

Marley nodded. Bucky prepared it all on her plate, making sure there was just enough for her to be full but not too much so she would still eat dinner, and handed it to her. She carried it carefully to the living room, Bucky following behind. She had laid out all her crayons on the coffee table next to her Paw Patrol coloring book. He knew about this cartoon because it was the only one Marley ever wanted to watch, she was literally obsessed with it, and she did make him watch some episodes with her. He knew that, when she was playing alone in her room, she would usually pretend she was saving the world with them.

Bucky sat on the carpet, next to Marley, stealing one grape from her plate. She threw him a death glance but offered him some more if he would help with the coloring. He happily complied.

Before dinner was normally bath time. Thankfully, you had said over the phone you would deal with that in the morning. For some reason, Marley did not like baths. A little bit of water in her eyes or ears was too much for her to handle and he wasn't sure he could deal with her being so upset on his own.

He still got her changed in her pajamas - she obviously chose the one with the dalmatian puppy from Paw Patrol you had agreed on buying a few weeks ago; washed her face with a cotton pad and some cleansing lotion, brushed her hair and tried the best he could to tie them in a low ponytail. You would normally braid them for the night, but this was not something Bucky mastered at all - he made a mental note to watch some tutorials on YouTube to learn though.

"Will you and mommy get married?" Marley asked out of nowhere while Bucky was carrying her back to the kitchen to have dinner.

"I don't know," he said, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"I prefer you over my real daddy," Marley admitted. And it broke his heart. Bucky knew how her dad forgot about her third birthday and missed most of his custody days lately. He didn't really understand how somebody could have a child and knowingly decide not take care of them anymore.

The child in his arm was so precious. It amazed him every day how much she could comprehend of the world around her. She was smart, creative, kind. She knew what she wanted, would be very stubborn about it and would do anything to get it – you always said you didn’t understand where she got her fierce mind and Bucky laughed every time because he knew exactly from whom she had gotten it: you. You did such a good job raising her on your own. He also knew you would always choose her over him, and he had to admit, it made him fall in love even more with you.

"Even if I'd marry your mom, I still wouldn't be your daddy officially."

"To me, you would," Marley concluded as if it was as simple as that.

Living with you two permanently. Marrying you. Bucky never thought of it. He liked how this relationship was working: the kindness, the trust, the love. He loved the movie dates with you, the Sundays walks, and the evening just the three of you. He loved how simple it all was and how it made him just happy. Happiest he had been in a long time. And he wondered if he wanted more. The way his heart was fluttering in his chest made him realized, he did. He didn't know if he was ready though.

Back to the kitchen, he put her down on her seat before getting the casserole of potato gratin out of the oven. He put a small portion in her plate, next to some chopped carrots and apple sauce he already prepared. He put it down in front of her and sat next to her.

"Will you eat with mommy?"

"Yeah, is that alright?"

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. They had stayed coloring her books a little too long and it was nearly her bedtime. Smiling softly, he encouraged her to eat. She did while asking some more questions on his cat in between each mouthful. How old is it? Why did you name it Alpine? Has mummy already met it? Do you think she'll like me? Turned out this little one never run out of question.

After dinner, Bucky gave her a small portion of chocolate from the special cupboard and they agreed it would be their little secret. Then, he carried her to the bathroom to brush her tiny teeth. It was started to be late for her and she was clearly fighting against sleep, the lack of it upsetting her.

"I want to see mommy," she cried, lips trembling and eyes full of tears.

"I know Mar-Mar, she'll get there soon," Bucky tried to comfort her. You hadn't text yet, meaning you weren't on your way still. He knew Marley would be asleep before you got home. "We can read a book in your bed while we wait for her, yeah?"

Marley nodded and let Bucky carry her to her bed. She had her head rested on his right shoulder the whole time. She crawled under the covers the moment her body was dropped off on the bed. She let Bucky choose the bedtime story and he chose the one he knew she liked so much.

He laid beside her gently and she immediately reached out closer to him. He wrapped his right arm around her, and her hands somehow found his dog tag again. A small kiss on her forehead and Bucky started reading the book in his left hand. Marley was listening carefully, helping him by turning the page.

At the end of the story, she was fast asleep against him, his dog tag still in her tiny fist. Bucky did not dare moving, afraid he would wake her up if he did. He observed the small child against him and listened to her soft breathes. She looked so peaceful and it made him thought of the way she had welcomed him into her life. Just like you, she had taken him as a whole; with his trauma, his insecurities, his quietness, and his staring habits. And now, she had him wrapped around his little finger. He knew deep in his guts he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your daughter. He realized that now. That made him think some more: maybe he was ready after all. And this time, he would not let happiness slip away from him.

Bucky stayed like that until twenty minutes later, when you showed up on your daughter’s room doorstep. You looked exhausted yet still radiant. A smile had formed on your lips at the sight in front of you. It made you melt right on the spot.

"Hey," Bucky greeted you softly.

You came closer, walking on your tiptoes, careful of not waking up your daughter. You laid besides them, kissing your daughter little fist, and tucked yet another strand of hair behind her ear. You looked back at Bucky, who was intensely staring at you. His left arm was already wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you close. You kissed his jaw, making him smile gently. "Thank you for taking care of her. Did it go okay?"

"More than okay." He kissed your forehead while you snuggled closer to him. His heart could burst of the feeling of having you two near him forever.

He wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

#jbb #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x single mom!reader #lea's writing #bucky barnes x you

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lolita-lollipop · 4 years ago

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Hi hope you’re having a wonderful day! Could I please get a bnha coraline au story. So like y/n has had a pretty bad life like a whole bunch of stuff and now they have to basically parents their own parents at the age of 15 cause they’re lazy alcoholics who just go to work come back and drink. One day after they move in y/n gets curious and finds explores around the house while they’re alone and discovers the door to the other world and meets their dream parents. The parents are aizawa and present mic who just genuinely love the reader, they don’t want to take readers soul that just want to help them. They have a sister eri and a brother shinso and when reader tries to leave they all beg and threaten reader not to leave cause “your parents never cared for you anyways” and “we’ll love you more then they ever would” and force reader to be the new baby of the family gender neutral reader if possible, please and thank you ( 03^)~💚

YANDERE CORALINE AU ERASERMIC FAMILY X READER

GN READER

-I do apologize if you wanted a shorter work, because this ended up being kinda long, sorry!

-there are a few grammar and spelling mistakes here and there, this is unedited, I will fix them :)

(I don’t know if you actually wanted the reader to be treated like a baby, literally like an infant, or just like the youngest in the family, I needed up doing the second option, tell me if wrong.)

——————————————————————-

You hummed a tune as you wandered the hallways, your footsteps dragging, you had tried to tell your mother to drink some water and put the strong bottle of vodka down before she ended up killing herself. She yelled at you, told you to “shut the hell up ya damn brat”, god knows where your father even is. It had only been a day or two in this house, and they had already made it feel like a prison for you, oh my, A SINGLE DAY.

In all honesty the house was nice, old, yes, but still nice. It seemed as if the last owners hadn’t been here for hundreds of years, let alone clean the place, as all embellishments on the walls were antique styled, and everything, I repeat, everything, was covered in dust. There were a few different pieces of furniture that looked as ancient as the neighbors, including a dresser filled with a different articles of clothing, a few dusty chairs here and there, curtains clawed away by... something, and little tables with droors filled with little trinkets.

One room in particular was exceptionally creepy in your eyes, it seemed like a child once slept there, probably long dead by now, the walls were covered in a striped floral wallpaper, chipping at the edges, various stuffed animals that hadn’t been touched in ages, what looked to be a changing table, and a smaller sized bed placed in the middle, fitted with dusty purple bedsheets, probably that color because of the gathering dust, you sat down on the mattress, inhaling the scent of the room. It smelled oddly of lavender, not a musty mildew smell you were expecting. You spent a moment just finding comfort in the warm smell, before noticing a small dent in the wall behind what you thought could be a changing table. Almost looked like... a tiny door?

“What the heck is that?” You questioned or yourself, narrowing your eyes at the wooden frame that looked like a small threshold, cautiously standing up form the bed, and making your way over to the door, you struggled to move the large piece of furniture, pushing back gains the groun and shoving it out of the way. It was indeed a door, and it was indeed tiny. There was a small cobweb strung across the mass of it, which you batted away with your little hands, pulling at the doorknob a few times to reveal the fact that it was locked, you let out an exasperated sigh. Well... it’s not like you have much to do, might as well find the key.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for you to find the small, heart shaped key that fit the locked door, it was tucked into one of the white droors of the small table in the corner. It was the first place you looked, almost as if it’d been calling out for you. It only took a few moments for you to push the key into the lock and turn, you let out a sigh of relief when you heard the satisfying click of the lock opening. Wondering what was going to be on the other side, you pushed open the mini door, to reveal a tunnel of sorts... today’s just full of surprises isn’t it.

“Man this tunnel is lo... whoah.” You stood, still balled up in a crawli mg position, shocked at your own surroundings. Everything looked so... new, and polished, you stared Jan absolute awe at everything, literally everything. Where are you?

“Oh, honey you’re finally here!” A male voice rang out from behind you, immediately large hands were lifting you off the floor from under your arms, holding you like a baby, this guy cradled your head in his chest, no matter how much you squirmed, the iron grip he had on you did not loosen. You snapped your head up to meet his eyes, only to be met with buttons of such a piercing yellow it almost hurt your own eyes. A shrill scream left your lips, as you flung your feet back and forth in attempts to free yourself.

“Oh, oh right. I’m sorry , I should’ve been a little slower, it’s scary I know, you’ll get used to it I promise. I’m hizashi, your other father, re you alright?” He questioned, backing up a little to give you space, bringing his hands up to tell you he wasn’t going to hurt you, ever. You were usually a calm person, but given the situation, like some random person living in your house with buttons for eyes, the reaction was warranted. You breathed for a small moment, inhaling the even stronger scent of lavender that was oh so comforting, before standing back up, giving whatever this was at a chance of explanation.

“Who- who are you?” The question left your lips faster than tryouts could hold it in, he gave you a smile and walked closer again, booping your nose and once again pulling you off the ground. He was tall, slightly lanky, and his hair was a bright yellow to match his eyes, little dangle earring wee attached to his ears, you just stared in awe at the inhuman man who was holding you.

“Silly little thing! I just said it! I’m your other father, like your real father, just perfect for you! Dinners almost ready, so let’s go meet the rest of the fmIly okay bubs?” He questioned m, speaking down to you like one would a child, even though you are a fully capable human. He grabbed your hand, and gently rigged you off into some hallway, you slightly dig your feet in, staring back at the little door that got you here in the first place.

———

“Honey, this is your reality, if it was perfectly fit for you! We love you, unlinke those scum who call your your parents, don’t your bat to be loved for once y/n?” He spoke, the two of you arrived at what was probably the kitchen, him explaining what was happening pretty thoroughly considering he had to do it in a few minutes, barging through the doors, a few other pairs of button eyes were scattered thievhiur the kitchen.

“Daddy! I helped bubba make dinner tonight!” A little girl, probably not even over the age of five, came running towards the two of you, smiling fully. She was sporting a pair of red buttons, which matched her little jumper, you had your face buried in this ma- hizashis chest, his arms wrapped around the entirety of you. He sent an exited stare towards the little girl, who jsut gasped and smiled even harder. She made little grabby hands towards you, so hizashi set you down on the ground, whispering a “time to get down” in your ear. Instantly, the little girl attached herself to your torso.

“Bubba/sissy!” She squealed, patting your stomach, as much as you would love to knock her off of you, she’s a kid, you don’t do that to kids. This young girl claimed to be your other sister, which at this point you were led to believe because apparently anything is possible at this point, she was pretty adorable.

“I-uh, yeah?” You spluttered, visibly flustered, you tried to get a grip of yourself, it was kindof odd, although the girl seemed much younger than you, the way she carried herself presented that she was much older than she came off, from the maternal glint in her eyes, to the planned movements, it just seemed... mature.

—————small time skip—————

It had been maybe an hour, you had been seated at a dinner table, quite the large one actually, in between a black haired man that you could tell was staring at you, and a purple haired teenager who looked to be a similar age to you. You sat there just kindof awkwardly trying to not touch any of them. At one pint. The purple haired guy tried to feed you, which was an unfortunate suprise because you were off in dreamland, and were ckmoemteky confused as to why he was even trying something like that.

“You’ll probably hurt yourself trying, just let me do it” he spoke, it is safe to say that this button eyed family is an odd bunch. First the woerd door, then a creepy guy tryna pick you up, then some little girl who probably wasn’t so little claiming you to be her “younger sibling”; then the offpdutirng glances front his beanbag guy, than this? What is happening.

Sooner or later, after the really odd display that was dinner had finished, and you had help washing your hands, because for some reason they thought you needed it, it was announced bettime, and with a snap of the man him you learned name was Aizawa, food was gone, along with all the dishes. If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you almost lied this, of course not the babying thing, but the fact that you weren’t cooking or cleaning or trying to snatch a bottle from your parents, it almost made you wnat to cry how perfect this family was. God how much you wished this was your own.

It’s sounds selfish, and unreasonable, but you never had a childhood, the day you were born your life was already sighted off as “servant of my own parents”, you lived them, you did, these people were so nice thiugh, they were odd, maybe a little quirky, but still jsut a perfect little family. Apparently one that includes you.

“ALRIGHT! time for bed!” The yellow haired man exclaimed, seeeping you and eri right off of your feet, holding you in his arms as eri giggled at the sudden swish sound. The two men on the other side of the large room cracked small smiles at the sheer adorable ness of the position, the two little ones of the family and their father! What a sight to see!

“Shhhhh, I think y/n is gonna sleep with us to Tonight okay eri?” Hizashi whispered to the young girl, loud enough for you to hear, she nodded and smiled one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, hr eyebrows raising before her button eyes. She motioned to be put down ‘, waving goodbye and latching her own hand onto shinsos, who also waved his hand.

“Goodnight daddy! And y/n!” From there, you walked alongside them to their room, or what you supposed it was. This was the first time you’d really talked to Aizawa, and it was pretty embarrassing because he asked if he was aloud to change you out of your day clothes. You were a little too scared to say no, so you let him, it was probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to sit through, and that’s saying quite A lot.

When all was done, you had brushed your teeth, and wrrrnchanged into a set of lilac pajamas, silken and slippery, you were pulled on top of the yellow haired man, who then wrapped his arms around your waist and started “shh-ing” you, patting your head while rocking back and forth slightly, the other man slipped in next splaying his arms over you, rubbing circles into your beck

Mans with that, the lights went out, and you fell asleep.

——————————————————————

From there, everything in your life changes, you wake up the next day in the dusty lilac bed, wondering if it all was a dream, so the next night, you go back, and the next, and the next, until you started to spend your days there. Playing with eri, or cuddling with either of the three men, or just having fun without any worries or cares int the world. By that’s when it all starts, they kindof... changed.

They became overprotective, it showed in some more than others, but it was present either way. Al you wanted to do was check up on your dad to see if he was still alive or not, and eri had a whole crying fit, begging you to stay, and telling you she’d die if you left.

“No no! You can’t leave me! I-I I’m gonna die if you leave! I’ll die, please don’t keVe I promise il be good!”

It took a little shushing from you, but eventually you convinced her you weren’t going to leave, and so she went back to her normal self. You were with shinso once, and walked near the little door, he had immediately blocked it as if you were going to do something, then scolded you for going near such a “dangerous object”.

“You shouldn’t. Go close to that evil little thing, it might hurt you m, I don’t want you to get hurt, so stay away from it”

And then your other parents, they didn’t let you do anything by yourself, scared you would run off and get lost in the maze of nothing outside. You can’t even mention your real parents, you’ve been down here for at least a week now and haven’t been able to check on them, so when you did ask to go back for a day, hizashi slicks dying up and told you to cut out the nonsense, while Aizawa bubbles in anger, telling you that they lived you ten times better than your parents Eve could.

“They don’t deserve you, they don’t love you, we do, they’ll never live you half as much as we do, we can protect you here, why would you wnat to leave?”

Ans so one day, when your “other papa” or Aizawa, tried to take the key from you and lick you in here, you had enough. These people were supposed to be perfect, instead they turned obsessive, little button eyes showing up everywhere, watching your every move, you had thought your old life was a prison, now look at this.

You turned back, checking to see if anyone was watching, waiting to stop you, before pulling the key out of your pocket, ripping the boarding off of the door, pulling the panels of wood off one by one, shoving the key into the black door knob, you were just about to turn it, when a voice rang out behind you, no longer was the sweet girl who you played trains with, in the stead was something else just In ther body, you could hear it in her voice.

“Where are you going? You aren’t trying to leave are you?” She spoke, you froze on the spot, hands moving faster, ymtrying to get the stupid door to unlock, before you could even blink, the key snapped in half, not in your hold, in another sudden figure, your other brother. You didn’t even get the chance to speak before be t down and ripped the whole door knob off of it, giving you a knowing glance.

“I told you to stay away from it, I told you didn’t I? Now look, it’s broken” he hissed, throwing the iron knob somewhere else, you knew that I’d both of the siblings were here, the two parents were sure to be here along with them, you were proven right, as a pair of black and yellow buttons popped up behind the Eric girl, carrryijg... what is that?

“Oh my god... OH MY GOD” you screamed, the heads of your parents were in these men’s holds buttons sewn over the eyes, blood seeping out of their decapiated necks, you reMiedn screaming as the heads were discarded, jsut thrown off somewhere else. You were lifted up off the ground in your crying state, hizashi a hands stroked your hair, while his other hand went and wrapped around your butt to support you up.

“We told you baby, we tried to tel you at least. Now there’s nothing up there for you, there was never anything anyways, your safe now... they’ll never hurt you again. You’re ours...

Forever”

———————————————————————————————————

Tell me if you liked it, I can change things if you want:)

#coraline au #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic family #buttons #tiny door #lock and key #shinsou hitoshi #shinso #erasermic #daddy erasermic #eri #yandere present mic #yandere Aizawa #yandere shinso #yandere eri

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madness-curin-sadness · 3 years ago

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KILLING EVE S4 Ep 1 & 2

Really enjoyed both episodes, mostly episode 2.

I know a lot of people thought the Jesus hallucination parts were weird or uncomfortable, which I understand. Regardless, I enjoyed the Jesus hallucination parts, they were genius and funny to me- and ultimately worrisome. Eve is so badass now and that scene with Helene was extremely hot. I like the feel of the show. It's darker, more mature, on the edge, and tense af.

Also the lesbian and bisexual aspect of Villianelle and Eve is constructed well, especially Eve's. Like Eve's wardrobe style is a huge improvement. And Eve's bisexuality has really been presented in these first two episodes. Eve is attracted to men (Yusuf), yet she feels a deeper more sensual draw to strong women (Villianelle, even Helene). That is literally the nature of a woman who is bisexual. As to Villianelle who only sees women as attractive and sensual even though she has used men in the past.

I also like how the cinematography is being shot and the effects that are displayed on screen whenever it would show Villianelle and Eve doing something. The screen would have a blurred focus on them when they are thinking. It depicts their uncertainty, their impulses, and their chaotic actions given the situation.

Still, there are many questions.

1. What the heck actually happened on the bridge at the end of season three?

2. How long has it been since season three?

3. Did something actually happen between Eve and Villianelle? (It seems Eve's demeanor and perspective has drastically shifted) Or is it the fact that both of them are not together, the reason why they are both spiraling greatly?

Things that were confusing

Villanelle randomly showing up in front of Eve. Eve absolutely resenting Villianelle. Eve saying, "I'm different". Eve slapping Villianelle and then saying, "that was for Kenny". Is that because of Konstantin or does Eve think Villianelle was the one who killed Kenny? (Which makes total sense, but they need to clarify it if that is the case)

How is Konstantin living a good life, even campaigning? I thought he was a wanted man by the Twelve?

Also is it just me, or is Eve going around spying on members of the Twelve just a little too easily? Eve is way in over her head whatever the case, because Pam (the assassin woman working at the funeral home) knew she was being followed and whooped Eve's ass so quickly anyways.

The suprising/shocking, interesting, dislikes, and controversial moments.

What do you feel about Eve shooting Konstantin in the hand? (suprising)

Eve spending so much time flirting with Yusuf. (dislike)

Hugo threatening Carolyn. (suprising)

Villanelle singing in a church. Villanelle trying to be a faithful person. Even though she has killed so many people. (suprising/controversial but I liked it)

Eve putting herself in danger around members of the Twelve so many times. (suprising/concerning)

Villanelle being so subconscious and having little confidence. (suprising/dislike/concerning)

Villanelle not wanting to kill anyone. (Interesting)

Villanelle getting caught on cctv burying a cat she accidentally killed. (suprising/funny)

Villanelle hallucinating about Jesus, and Jesus being herself. (suprising af/controversial)

The results of Eve and Villianelle's Romeo and Juliet moment. (suprising/confusing)

Villanelle's whole baptism scene. (suprising/shocked/controversial)

Eve showing up at Hélène's house and wanting to have dinner with her. (suprising)

Villanelle almost killing May in a church. (Suprising/controversial)

Villanelle calling out May's father at the bond fire during the game at church camp. (SHOCKED)

Eve and Hélène having a fucking sensual interaction. (Shocked😏)

Villanelle getting mad after overhearing May and her father talking badly about her. Resulting in Villianelle killing them. (interesting)

Theories and insights

Yusuf dies some how. Lol.

Carolyn gets captured or arrested.

Villanelle or Eve get arrested.

Helene is fooling Eve.

Konstantin finally dies.

Those fish Villianelle cooked for dinner were the same fish Eve fed at that fish tank.

Villanelle and Eve are going to make up and finally have the most anticipated bang of the century.

Conclusion:

Episode 1 and 2 were written pretty good. The show felt fresh. The acting by Jodie, Sanda, and Fiona was superb, they did their characters just right. The comical parts were not overly done, they were small, and wonderfully timed.

Going forward into episode 3, we should be concerned for Eve's safety and Villianelle's sanity.

Eve is going around acting reckless looking for the Twelve. Without a care for what might happen to her. I mean she freaking shot Konstantin in the hand. In episode 1 after Eve confronts Konstantin he tells Eve that she will not survive. Eve replies with, "thank god". Signaling that she does not mind dying at all. Eve does not fear anything in that moment. It is pretty worrisome to hear. However, there is one point in episode 2 where Eve and Yusuf are at dinner and he tells Eve that she might die going to Hélène's house. And Eve looks scared. There are parts of her that still are humane, moments when she steps back and thinks about her reckless actions. There are times she doesn't know if what she is doing is right or wrong. Episode 2 when she goes to get another opinion from the psychologist Martin. Eve goes to Martin to gain insight about going to Hélène's house and she ends up talking about Villianelle. She is not sure of her actions. And at the end of Episode 2 she walks out of Hélène's house holding her burnt hand not believing what just transpired between her and Hélène. Eve likes the power she has over people, specifically Hélène in that moment. In that moment when Eve is questioning her actions, she looked a bit aroused, scared, and pleased with what she just did.

I do think it is crazy how Eve showed up at Hélène's house. Though Eve didn't mean for her interaction with Hélène to be similar to the times when Villianelle would show up at her house- it still ended up like that. Eve randomly brought up to Yusuf the idea of just showing up at Hélène's house, gee I wonder where Eve got that idea from? Still Eve randomly got up in the middle of the night and did the same thing Villianelle has done to her. Challenging and arousing one another is what happened with Eve and Hélène. Just like Villianelle and Eve would do to each other. It is a big parallel and I wonder if that was something Eve was thinking about when she was leaving Hélène's house. Clearly Eve cannot stop thinking about Villianelle.

Then there is Villianelle. Villanelle turns to religion and faith in order to be a better person. To do good things instead of bad. To establish morals and know from right and wrong. Villanelle is acting like a normal caring person around May and her father. Villanelle doesn't really talk much and you can tell she is holding back. She has placed herself in the Christian faith even though it is clear she does not believe in God and she is still the same psychopath. She plans to be baptized to wash all her sins away. She accidentally kills May's cat. She questions herself and seeks affection from May. Villanelle wants to be told she is a good person. Then Villanelle gets caught hiding the dead cat, perhaps indicating that Villanelle cannot hide her true self. We find out she is only doing all of this to impress Eve to show her that she has changed. Villanelle goes to talk to Eve about how she's "changed" and "supposedly" so has Eve. After that Villianelle nearly kills May. And Villianelle kills May and her father after getting upset with them. During the whole 2nd episode Villianelle starts to hallucinate about Jesus as herself. Which was humorous and good acting. But in reality it means that Villianelle was basically imagining someone and talking to them. It is a psychological disorder we all know too much about, which means Villianelle really does need help.

In episode 2 Villianelle repeatedly tells May that what matters is that she didn't kill her, and that she is still alive. May says "no, you don't get it. You tried to kill me but it's okay because you didn't finish the job?". Then Villianelle explains to May that she is trying to be a better person. And Villianelle throws on a sap story to May successfully manipulating her. Which is interesting because in the past we'd see Villianelle say some sad lie to manipulate someone. Though this time we know Villianelle is trying to manipulate May but Villianelle is actually being genuine about how she feels while doing it. Not killing May or anyone matters to Villianelle. It shows that she is trying to be good. Well good to prove to Eve. Also not killing someone that likes you is very important to Villanelle. Villianelle's current relations with May represents a parallel to Eve and Villanelle trying to kill one another in the s1 and s2 finales. When they both failed to kill each other. Afterwards they were glad neither of them had died, in fact Eve and Villanelle both tried to apologize the next time they seen one another. Villianelle tells May, "what matters is that I didn't kill you" almost like she is trying to prove to Eve again. Villanelle believes that NOT killing Eve is a huge importance. Because Eve is so important to her. Now switch back to Villianelle and May in the forest. Villianelle seems distasteful about May liking her again so easily when May doesn't even truly know her, which is different from with Eve. Villianelle also appears very lost and unhappy. And clearly Villianelle cannot stop thinking about Eve.

I worry for Eve and Villanelle individually. They are both trying to prove to one another that they are different then before. That they have changed. That Villianelle is not the murdering, self centered, psychopath assassin. And that Eve is not the naive, scared, easily manipulated agent. When actually they are still the same people. Though now a little part of each other reflects in the two of them. Making them only slightly different from each other and still the same as before. Though their characteristics are now amplified up. Mix it with how tense they are, knowing that they clearly love each other, and that one is stubbornly denying it. It is frustrating, painful, and confusing. Villanelle and Eve seriously need to have a one to one that is uninterrupted. They both need to suck up their pride and realize that they need and love each other. They can keep trying to live without each other, though look how that is working out for them.

I look forward to more Villianeve moments. How their love will finally turn for the betterof both of them. And how the show will end. It is nice being able to theorize about Killing Eve once again, so please enjoy it because it will be missed.💚💛

#killing eve #villanelle #eve polastri #villaneve #villanelle x eve #killing eve season 4 #killing eve spoilers #killing eve spoiler

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jeontaehui · 4 years ago

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nananananana (210331 VLIVE)

taehee bites back a grin as fans enter the live. “hello everyoneeee,” she greets softly, her cheekbones lifting into a soft smile. “i’m in the practice room once again.”

“i was just learning a dance actually, it’s my break right now so this’ll probably be short,” she mentions. “and then i turned on vlive without asking permission— well, i did ask permission after i... turned it on,” she giggles. “she’s gonna say yes anyways. no one can say no to me,” the comments section blows up after she sent a sly wink to the viewers. she knew her effect on them one way or another.

mark lee i love you HELLO THE TITLE?? IS THIS A SPOILER???

lee donghyuck’s long hair i only entered the live but i feel like crying T—T why must she be so cute

taeyongbub taehee in the practice room is so attractive??? wth???

taehee tucks a few strands behind her ear asking, “did you guys have dinner already? have you guys eaten?”

mataechan what did taehee eat today?

hyuckschurros PIZZA !!!!

“aw, pizza? i’m craving now,” she shortly puts on a pout before a smile shows itself once again. “i haven’t eaten but i think i’ll have........ um,” taehee seems to think for a moment as she looks up the ceiling, trying to remember what jungwoo said she’d have at the dorms.

“i can’t remember,” she shrugs, proceeding to continue reading the comments.

jungwoo tehet are you going to dance again?

aussiechan TAEHEEEE !!! come home to australia :(

svtzen DREAM SPOILERS PLEASEE

“the dance that me and my teacher did today was to party favors by tinashe! i have to practice some more to get it right but i’m,” she stands up and dusts off her track pants, placing the phone on the floor in front of the mirror, “going to show you guys the part where i’m most confident in.”

she disappears as she goes to the side to play the music, and the strong beats of tinashe’s party favors fills the practice room. she adjusts her pants around her waist and runs a hand through her black hair, ruffling her bangs for a moment before getting into position.

she dances. no matter how hard-hitting the choreography is, taehee knew well how to control her own body, and gracefully yet powerfully sync her movements to the beats.

taehee marry me she’s so hot what the heck do i do

markcity i’m single for this reason only

fullsunnn THIS IS WHY WE NEED A TAEHEE SOLO ASAP !!!

from the corner of her eye, taehee sees her dance instructor imitate the part where she got the dance wrong during their practice, causing her to lose focus and burst into laughter.

ncityinthehouse everyone, the duality of miss jeon taehee

“unnie is laughing at me right now!” taehee giggles. her eyes glance to the side then back to the screen. “yes so, until there did i memorize the dance. i’ll try to post on instagram the full version of it. oh!” she claps her hands excitedly, a habit nctzens took note of before she says an idea.

“since it’s a wednesday today and! the end of the month, you guys can comment whatever you guys want me to do or any question you want to ask and i’ll answer them.”

“i’m going to scroll with my eyes closed and whatever my finger lands on will be picked,” she cutely asks if the viewers got it before briefly explaining what she just said in english.

“i’ll give you guys maybe 30 seconds? is 30 seconds enough? okay, ready and start!”

taehee bobbed her head as she counted the numbers in her head. “30! okay, i’ll close my eyes now.”

juhfahm skincare routine?

merrymark give us a phone tour :D

twiceyeon please watch switch to me by dahyun and chaeyoung !!!! <3

“from twiceyeon,” taehee reads, putting her emcee mode on. “please watch switch to me by dahyun and chaeyoung! ohh i think i’ve seen this on my recommended but i haven’t had the time to watch it— sorry, chaeyoung-ah,” she winces.

you can hear keys being tapped on taehee’s phone screen as she typed the title on youtube’s search bar. the music video appears a few seconds later and she immediately clicks on it.

“oooo dahyun-ssi is very pretty,” taehee says. her expression quickly changes when she sees the twice member use her foot as she played the piano, her hand going up to cover the giggles that escaped out of her. “this is so cool,” she beamed.

“oh sexy!” taehee exclaims after chaeyoung appeared. “i really like chaengie’s short hair.”

she compliments the set when the scene changes, a summer pool vibe replacing the vintage set-up at the intro. “the dance is cute too,” she mumbles.

she smiles at chaeyoung and dahyun’s playfulness in the music video before moving on to compliment her best friend again. “chaeyoung is seriously so pretty... whaaat!”

taehee continues to watch the rest of the video as she moves to the beat, occasionally letting out a chuckle or two at the adorableness of the duo.

“hold on,” she grabs her earphones and plugs them into her phone. “(it’s) to avoid copyright,” she smirks.

taehee finishes the music video with a grin on her face, “the music video was very cute! did they perform this on stage? i think the stage set and the fits would’ve been pretty.”

“speaking of music videos, baekhyun hyung’s new album just dropped yesterday! have you guys watched the music video?” taehee shuffles closer to the camera to read the comments. almost everyone was saying that they did, in fact, watch the music video and really enjoyed it.

“i never said this directly to him but i really am a fan of his, seriously,” she dictates. taehee breaks into a grin as she giggles again, the viewers watching how her eyes twinkled while she talked. “‘bambi’ is really great— it’s immaculate. you guys should stream the whole album and recommend it to your family and friends. baekhyunie hyung never fails to deliver (good songs).”

bbhubblegum taehee promoting baekhyun and other artists better than sm pt. 74628392

going on her phone, she mumbles, “and i really like the choreography of his songs.” there was an adorable pout to her lips as she spoke, much to the amusement of the viewers.

then she looks up from the device in her hands and her eyes hold a certain glint in them before she playfully squints. “just be quiet about this though. i am never gonna hear the end of this from him,” she shakes her head with an amused chuckle, recalling all the times baekhyun teased her and the ‘admiration’ she has for him.

“you’re my only bambi bambi,” taehee sang effortlessly. “it’s a perfect night for you,” her tone was a little softer this time.

“okay so that was our first request? dare? of the live, let’s get to the next one right away!”

taeheeroar do you listen to the neighborhood?

wooyoungification do you want to collab with anyone? if so, who?

“the next one is.... wooyoungification! ooo wooyoung-ah hello,” taehee says, prolonging the last syllable of her sentence. “they asked, “do you want to collab with anyone? if so, who?”

“well,” she clears her throat, furrowing her eyebrows as if she were in thought. “there are a lot of great artists out there. taylor swift is already my answer by default but,” she giggles again, “if i have to think of people outside sm, i think it’d be nice to have a collab with stray kids’ 3racha. they’re their producing unit if i’m not mistaken. it’d be fun to work with them.”

“i also had this dream of having a collaboration stage with the other dancers outside nct, like blackpink’s lisa or seulgi unnie. would you guys want that?”

midzyseason this isnt good for my gay ass

reveluvbar can taehee just take over sm

taehee hums, “i think i never mentioned it before but i wanna try doing drama ost’s too. i don’t watch as much dramas as i do before, but when i was still learning korean, they helped me so much.”

“i watched ‘guardian: the lonely and great god’ a lot and i really liked ‘stay with me’. hopefully, i can collab with punch too.”

taehee unconsciously moves her lips to the side, forming another pout and thinks again. “from sm, i think kai hyung? not counting superm, okay?” she beams.

“kai hyung and,” then a snort escapes taehee before she could even stop it, “baekhyun hyung.”

she puts a hand to her chest once she recovers from her mini-giggling fit before holding it up and swearing it was the truth. “these two were the ones that came to the top of my head, seriously.”

beansprout lolll remember when kai used to “complain” about taehee ever only talking about sehun cause he was the one she was closest to in exo when they first met ?

sodangerous it’s so touching how taehee looked up to exo while she was still a trainee and now they’re like family

taehee nods and bites her bottom lip, asking herself, “why do i feel like a youtuber?”

she smiles to someone off screen and quickly glances back to the camera, “next question!”

asteroidsung what did you get for renjun’s birthday?

“what did i get for renjun’s birthday? i just gave mine literally yesterday. i know it’s summer but i gave him a hoodie that i thought would look cute on him,” she smiles. “it was pink.”

“i was with haechanie when i bought it.”

chenlezoned hyuck said he’s gonna marry daegal next month

“hyuck’s gonna marry who now?!” taehee exclaims, “DAEGAL’S A MINOR!!!”

dreamtopia BYEEEEEEE

themissingpuzzlepiece everyone at haechan marrying daegal:❓❓meanwhile taehee: 🌋🌋⁉️

boohoohyuck sending my prayers to lee haechan

just then, taehee’s phone suddenly rings and her eyes widen at the caller id displayed on the screen. “wow, this dude’s timing is really! spot-on.”

she puts the speaker on, “donghyuck-ah, what’s this i’m hearing that you’re marrying daegal?? are you leaving me and chubs already?! oh and you’re on speaker.”

fullseun don’t you just cry on the inside when markhee calls hyuck by his real name or fullsun

you hear haechan’s boisterous laughter first before he could answer taehee’s question. “i talked about that on vlive,” he said, “where are you?”

“i’m doing vlive.”

“but it’s almost midnight.”

when taehee makes no move to answer, haechan goes, “are you in the practice room again?”

“so?” taehee answers sassily, causing the boy on the other end of the line to groan.

“noona, we talked about this already,” haechan whines. “then we can talk about it again later!” taehee shrugs exasperatedly. “noona....” the former warns, as if he was scolding a child. “i’m just on a break,” she gives in, “i’ll go home soon.”

“promise?” taehee rolls her eyes, though it was clear that she was grateful for haechan’s concern by the soft smile she held on her face. “i promise.”

taehyuckles i know i wished for a taehyuck live but this will suffice Gosh they are so cute !!!!!!

“you haven’t said hello to czennie,” taehee reminds him. “czennie, hello!!” he greets sweetly.

“anyways, i just called you because you agreed to playing a few rounds with me but i’ll just wait for you until you get home,” taehee winces at his statement. she might have forgotten. “oh right, i’m sorry. just a few more minutes?” haechan hums affirmatively from the other end.

“get home safely, noonaaa,” after they exchanged their goodbyes, taehee hangs up the call.

“yes, okay! everyone that was lee haechan on the phone with me and i think i can do,” she turns her back to look at the wall clock in the practice room, “three more comments.”

yangqied taehee’s an idol in the day, pro-gamer by night

“okay, so our next question is: are you friends with aespa? yes! i am friends with aespa,” she beamed.

“i actually saw them the day before their debut stage. my time slot in the practice room was after theirs and so we met there,” taehee recalls. “they’re very pretty! and they look cool when they danced to ‘black mamba’. i wished them luck on their debut stage,” she chuckles.

taehee closes her eyes and proceeds to swipe at the screen, “next question is... oh! i dare you to post on instagram. okay, let me find some photos and show you guys so we can all vote.”

“i’ll send them on bubble but i’ll show it here too in case you guys don’t have a subscription. that’s okay.”

markerlee tb to when taehee sent her pcs to bubble... she really said fuck capitalism !!!!

“okay, option 1: this one,” she brings her phone up to the screen, showing a picture of her with the bird filter on mac.

jisungbye I LIKE THIS ONEEE

kunniekunkun this one’s cute!!!

moloism markhee pls post ur photos with the mac filters im begging you

“orrrr this one,” she faces her phone towards the camera once more. she was sitting on the pavement with the view of the orange-pink sunset behind her, a mask concealing half of her face.

the127thsense everything just screams girlfriend material to me

deryqueen taehee, i am free this friday. i repeat, i am free this friday.

solhyuck i think you should post these as a set on instagram!

“what should i post on instagram? everyone choose between 1 or 2!” taehee tells them in korean, before switching to english. “you guys pick between the first one and the second one, and i’ll post it on instagram.”

oncezenni 2

flamboyanthyuck the second one!

ohmajesus i like the first one

iamjeno second pleaseee

“mm okay, most of you are voting for the second one so i’ll be posting that first thing tomorrow! and then i’ll just send the other one on bubble,” taehee puts her pinky finger up as she speaks, making a promise to the viewers.

“how many was that? two already?” a pout subtly makes its way on taehee’s lips and a few of her hair strands fell in front of her face, causing her to push them back as she huffed. nctzens found it adorable!

takeoffbesttrack can i kiss you.

“can you kiss me?” taehee presses her lips on the tips of her fingers before lightly tapping them on the screen. “i,” one of the corners of her mouth raises to a smirk, “kissed you.”

mahaecries GODDDD

tenvely you will be the death of me

deryqueen AGAIN TAEHEE I AM FREE THIS FRIDAY NIGHT !!!!!!!!!!

taehee giggles after seeing the comment section blow up and her dimples peek out from her cheeks.

“i’m gonna have to end this soon, guys. this is the last one, okay?”

haecity can you go live with markhyuck?

snoopyscoop do you have any more funny stories with jungwoo?

taromilktea did you see sungchan when he debuted as an emcee?

“did i go see sungchan when he debuted as emcee? nooo,” she frowns, “but i did call him on facetime.”

“he said he was nervous but i told him he’d do great! and he did, right?” taehee’s frown was quickly turned into a proud grin. “i watched a replay of it on youtube the day after. he was very cute.”

“i told him to just think of it like he was talking to us so he’s more comfortable, and he told me it helped a lot so i’m relieved,” she nods. “i sent him churros too!”

taehee shuffles closer to the camera and brings her knees close to her chest while she talks, “please support him! i know sungchanie’s glad to have received this opportunity that’s why he’s been practicing diligently.”

taehee reads a few more comments and smiles at the funny ones. the humor of nctzens never fail to make her smile. the memes they send during menpas are so hilarious that she can’t help but reply to most of them.

taeheespresident i guess she’s gonna end the live now? :(

jungwootehet it’s nearing 1 am and i still have school tomorrow...... whoops!

“i’ll have to go now guys, it was nice doing all this with you,” taehee softly mumbles.

“i like this idea of having you guys comment what you would want me to do ‘cause i’m able to connect with you guys more, i’ll try to do a live again soon.”

“the weather’s nice here in korea— well at least for me,” she chuckles, “it rained recently but it might be hot? in other places so please remember to stay hydrated and drink lots of water.”

“also wear your masks and keep social distancing! we’re not only trying to protect ourselves but we have to stop the spreading of it all so,” taehee gives another small smile at the camera as she reminds the people to be careful, “stay safe.”

after a few beats of silence, taehee speaks again. “okay so, until here is taehee’s nananananana live!” she sings while doing the infamous choreo of ‘go’.

empathy127 I KNEW IT WAS FROM GO !!!!

“good night! or good morning to those who are starting their day right now,” she adds, “goodnight! we’ll see you guys soon.”

taehee does her infamous ily hand gesture and winks at the camera before waving bye and ending the livestream.

#taehee.sns #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #wayv #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct blurbs #nct reactions #nct x reader #nct au #nct female member #nct female addition #kpop female addition #kpop female oc

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years ago

Note

I know you guys are always swamped with requests and asks but can you do more vinca fics or hc fluff or smut plz? I feel like Vinca is a underrated character other than waiting till the day she gets a route

Pairing with: Vinca realizing she had fallen in love with SWM MC when Yvette asked her about MC

Yvette smugly tells Vinca that the latter totally has romantic feelings for mc. Pride continues to deny it until got kicked of home out cuz Greed want her to go to the bike shop to confess to mc 👀👀👀

Vinca taking care of MC sick?

...

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“You seem excited for tonight’s show, Vinca.”

“When aren’t I?”

“No, I mean… more than usual.”

Vinca’s eyes flick upwards, instantly wary when she sees Yvette’s lopsided smirk, the one she gets when she’s planning something that will ultimately unveil in pure chaos she can smugly observe from afar with amusement.

She pauses the videogame she’s playing, squinting at her best friend.

“Out with it, Yvette.”

She looks down at her gloved nails with false nonchalance. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You don’t get to play that game with me. Be direct.”

“I have nothing interesting to say, Vinca.” A small shrug, which tells Vinca she definitely has something interesting to say. “I just think you should know MC just texted me. She can’t make it to the show tonight.”

There are several things wrong with that statement. Vinca narrows her eyes without realizing, hand snapping up towards her phone before she catches herself. There’s a sudden, strange, burning feeling in the pit of her stomach that makes it hard to think clearly.

“Why?” Slips out of her like a bullet. She freezes for a split-second, and then adds, perhaps a bit too hastily. “Pff, I knew she was bluffing when she said she could endure whatever I threw at her during the show.”

Yvette’s smirk remains in place. “There’s always next time.”

“If she couldn’t gather enough courage for this one, I don’t have much faith in the next one.”

“Then again, the act you had planned for tonight was specifically for her. If the guest of honor won’t show up, I’d say there’s not much sense in your part of the show for tonight.”

Vinca blinks at her. “Someone else can volunteer-”

“But it wouldn’t be the same, would it? You want that act to be for her and her alone.”

“…The pipsqueak is hardly that important, you know. I didn’t plan that act only for her.” Except Vinca had pictured MC’s face under the spotlight, expression fierce and defiant, spirit blazing and unwavering despite the hundreds of eyes that would be on her. Her eyes would be fixed on Vinca’s, tracking every little movement with a concentration that would make a hunter jealous. She had been looking forward to the banter that would spark between them with the same energy of a crazed storm, something Vinca couldn’t get enough of.

She hadn’t even considered the act with anyone else, and when she tries to imagine, everything falls apart. There’s no point. No excitement. The volunteer would be a jittery mess and Vinca wouldn’t get anything out of it. It’d be plain boring, because it wouldn’t be MC standing on stage.

The entire show would be plain boring. It wouldn’t be the same without MC watching. Vinca had expected to spend quite some time with her, too, after the show, ready to mock MC’s inevitable failure in the act despite the fight she would give her.

Yvette didn’t need to know that.

“I can still do my part of the show.” Vinca says, shoving her thoughts aside. Despite being the one with the mind-reading abilities, Yvette could be unnervingly sharp when she wanted to, and Vinca preferred not giving her anything to work with. “I have plenty of acts to work with.”

Yvette pauses. Gives her a pointed glance from her side of the couch when Vinca resumes her game, obviously considering the conversation over.

“You can take the night off. Lazareth and I can handle the show just fine.”

Vinca huffs. “You aren’t trying to kick me out, are you? Besides, what the heck would I do for the night? I’d just bore myself to death here. There won’t be anything interesting to watch on TV.” The casino wouldn’t even offer a great distraction anyways, since Vinca would just be too stuck on the ‘could have been’ to properly enjoy it.

Yvette’s glance turns into a full-blown stare.

“What?”

“You won’t stay here.”

“Oh yeah, sure, kick me out of our house just like you kick me out of the show, no hard feelings-” Vinca pauses, suddenly realizing where this is going. “You want me to go see the pipsqueak?” She pauses the game, suddenly grinning as a plethora of ideas come to her mind. “Of course! I can go mock her for chickening out! Oh, it’ll be glorious-”

“You’re excited again.” Yvette notices, as if it’s a world-changing observation.

“I mean. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh yes.” Yvette’s smirk turns predatory. “Why wouldn’t you be excited to see your crush?”

Vinca stares at her. Yvette’s words don’t click right away, because the idea seems too ludicrous and definitely not the right thing someone as sharp as Yvette should come up with. But the clock ticks away in the background and Yvette’s expression remains unchanged, and Vinca feels like she should rectify this horrible misunderstanding before it gets out of control, because honestly, falling in love with the pipsqueak of all people?

Vinca snorts. She has better tastes than that.

“Uh, hello? This is MC we are talking about. The girl who crashed her bike during my shoot and forced us to do the whole thing over again? The girl who can’t take two steps without breaking something? A rock has better fashion sense and finesse than she ever could. That girl?”

“Yes, the girl you are always visiting.”

“That’s only because she gets in so much trouble. You’ve seen it, she attracts demons left and right.”

“The girl you’re always talking about during dinner.”

“C’mon, I always let you vent when someone gets on your nerves, why can’t I do the same?”

“The girl who you know wouldn’t cancel something like this without good reason.”

That makes Vinca pause, because it’s true. The whole reason Vinca had even gotten the idea for the act was because she knew MC was up to the challenge. That she would rather give up a limp than back out and give Vinca the satisfaction of winning.

That burning feeling was back. Vinca swallows.

“Is she okay?”

If something had happened, why hadn’t she told Vinca? Why did she text Yvette instead? Did she think Yvette cared more than Vinca did? Why would she-

“Nothing plenty of rest can’t fix.” All hints of smugness are gone. Yvette’s expression is carefully neutral, her voice gentle. “But you should go see her, if you’re worried.”

“…Thank you for telling me, even if you were annoyingly slow about it.” Vinca says, half-way to the door before Yvette can finish speaking. “I just- want her to be in the show, is all. I’m not doing this any other reason.”

“Sure.” The faint amusement Vinca can detect in her response makes Vinca huff and quicken her pace.

…

She knows something is wrong when she enters the shop and sees Joyce on the counter, chatting with a costumer. MC usually takes the morning shift on Thursdays.

She’s tempted to fish around Joyce’s mind for an answer, but the idea makes her uncomfortable, just like reading Yvette and Lazareth’s minds made her feel. She blinks, equally parts annoyed and surprised. Since when had she begun to care about other people’s privacy? Was it just because Joyce was MC’s mom? Joyce wouldn’t even know if Vinca read her mind, and their relationship was rocky enough that it wouldn’t surprise her if Joyce flat out refused to tell her what was going on.

…so it would make it all the more special if she did tell her on her own volition. Not that Vinca hoped she would.

“Vinca.” Greets the older woman, voice less warm than it had been a second ago.

“Miss.” Is all she says in return, meeting Joyce’s gaze in kind, refusing to back down.

“You’re not here to buy a bike, are you.” It’s not a question. She almost looks resigned. When Vinca shakes her head, she pauses for a second, like she’s mulling something over. She lets out a long sigh. “Fine. Go on upstairs.”

Vinca blinks. She hadn’t been expecting this to be so easy. It usually wasn’t. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Joyce narrows her eyes and gives her another look. Her stern expression melts into a small smile. “It took me a while, but I can see you care about her. Go. Her room is down the hall.”

Vinca shuffles awkwardly, not sure how to process this new development. She nods mutely, infinitely grateful, and makes her way upstairs. She still doesn’t know what was up with MC, but if Joyce didn’t look overly worried, it was probably nothing too serious.

She frowns again, deeply bothered by the fact that MC hadn’t texted her. She’s in front of the door to the apartment in less than a second, emboldened by her need of answers and growing concern.

She goes in without knocking.

MC’s head snaps towards her, so startled that she loses her grip on her phone. It falls and bounces on floor with a dull thud, cat videos on full display for the world to see. Vinca smirks.

“What… Vinca?!” She splutters. Her expression is pure gold, all wide eyes and open mouth. Vinca doesn’t get to admire it for long, instantly distracted by her pale, miserable complexion. There are dark circles under her eyes, like she couldn’t sleep well, and her voice sounded wrong, as if she were holding her hand over her nose. “What the heck are you-?”

“Shut up, pipsqueak.” Vinca hisses, leaning down to retrieve the phone. Her eyes roam over MC’s body, taking in the sweat on her skin, the way she’s shivering. “You’re sick. You should be in bed.” Her eyes shift to the pot in MC’s hands, and she instantly reaches out to take it. “Let me take care of that.”

“No!” MC takes a step back, glaring. “Why are you even here? I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You’ll just get worse. Look at you, you can barely stand.”

“Don’t exaggerate, I can-”

Vinca pokes her directly in the chest and watches her flail around, trying to recover her balance. She steadies her with a pointed glare.

“You were saying?”

“That’s… I wasn’t…”

“Go back to bed, I’ll make you something.”

MC freezes under her hands, looking up at her warily.

“What? Are you deaf now, too?”

It feels natural to offer this. It’s something Vinca would do for her friends and sister in a heartbeat, without really thinking about it. Only when MC continues to stare does she realize what just happened.

When had she begun to care so much for her, anyway?

“I mean. I-if I want you to recover for the next show, I need to…” She trails off, feeling stupider by the second.

MC’s lips curl into an amused smile. It’s so similar to the one Yvette gave her earlier that Vinca instantly looks away, annoyed. They usually only smile like that when they know – or think they know – something Vinca doesn’t.

“Need to make sure you… don’t do anything stupid. It’s a cold day. You should be in bed.”

“You won’t poison it, will you?” MC says.

“If you keep bothering me, I will. I’d be doing the world a favor, anyway.”

“Maybe I should stay. I’ll go quicker if we both-”

Vinca grabs her by the wrist and drags her down the hallway before she can finish, ignoring her protests. She needs some time alone to process everything, anyway, and MC would just make everything worse. As per usual.

“Rest.” She barks, all but closing the door in MC’s face. She hopes she shoved her in the right room.

The next half-hour goes by in a blur, but it’s enough time to ponder the strange effect MC has on her. She doesn’t know how, she doesn’t know when, but MC had become someone important to her. Almost as important as Yvette and Lazareth were, just in a different way. There was something else there. Something that made her yearn for presence, for her witty responses, for the way her eyes sparkled, for the way she laughed. The sound has been with Vinca for ages, stuck in her head, refusing to come out.

And now here she is, skipping both the show and whatever lame thing would be on TV at this hour, just because MC was sick and Vinca cared too much.

Vinca scowls down at the soup. Swears loudly.

Vinca’s tastes must be shit, because she definitely is in love with this insufferable pipsqueak. And that’s another thing Yvette – or anyone, for that matter – didn’t need to know.

#unlady-like-12-25-36 #answered #lovestruck #sin with me #lovestruck sin with me #vinca wren #vinca x mc #lovestruck vinca #swm vinca #fluff #sporadic sunday

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Part two of my AU! You should start with But What If, Instead, or you may be a little confused. Or just dive in, that's cool too. Be a sexy rebel. It's what BJ would want.

He’s sixteen when green starts to grow on his face. He’s been dealing with the hair for years, now, and it’s mostly stable. Sure, he gets overwhelmed, and sure, it can still change quickly, but it’s not like when he was twelve and threw fits all the time that resulted in fire engine red. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at handling anger, for sure, for sure, for sure. That award will probably always go to his mother, Emily. But he’s gotten better at treating everything like a joke, which totally helps. Can’t get mad at what you don’t take seriously, right? It’s a philosophy that seems to frustrate his dad, who, in Betelgeuse’s opinion, takes everything way too seriously. Chuckster is lucky he’s got Emily to balance him out, or that case of stick in ass might have become terminal. So, yeah, alright, the green. He’s been growing facial hair lately, a thin pathetic little pencil mustache that nine year old Lydia calls his “creepo-stache,” and he’d be the first to admit, it’s pretty John Waters-esque, but it’s what he’s got, for now. That hair, of course, grows in green, and mixed with the corpse purple untertones he still hasn’t quite learned to glamour away convincingly, the effect is that he perpetually looks like he’s ready to put on a zombie remake of a 70’s porno. Metaphors sure are fun. At least the upper lip is starting to fill out, and the chin scruff has been on the rise, too, though he’s a far cry away from Charles’ majestic beard. He’s staring in his bathroom mirror after a shower, admiring his chubby, totally sexy self, when he notices a splotch of green on the left side of his nose. He smooshes his nose down a little with one hand, leans in closer, and squints. Must be somethin’ he ate? On his nose? For some reason? But then he notices there’s the same slight green color at his temples, too. He settles on scrubbing his face until his skin hurts a little, and when he’s done, he’s so flushed he can’t see the color, and assumes the matter is settled. And then a few days later, it’s darker. He’s sitting at dinner with the whole family, chewing with his mouth open to annoy Lydia, who gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. “Now, if you ever hit me, and I find out about it,” he starts to tease, until he feels his mom flick his ear, and he turns to her. “You got some schmutz on your face, Bug. Come here.” Emily blots her napkin to her tongue, and then wipes at his nose, much to his chagrin. “Ew, seriously? Maaaaa,” he whines, but everyone at that table knows he’s soaking up the attention like a sponge. “I for sure feel so much cleaner with your spit smeared around my face, thank you so much, Emily Deetz.” Emily shooshes him and continues rubbing, but her napkin comes away clean. “Huh,” she glances down at it, and then back to the spot on the side of his nose, and squints. Lydia and Charles are leaning in too, now, and his sister grins. “There’s some on his forehead, mama, get him there,” and she’s successful in weaponizing their mother against him, because he hardly has time for a “Damn you-” before Emily is rubbing at the green stains on his temples, near his hairline. “What the heck is this, ink?” “I dunnoooo!” he winges, wiggling just enough to let her know he’s unhappy but not enough to flail and hurt her. When she finally relents and lets him go, a third hand sprouts from his back to pull the “hood” part of his black and white striped hoodie over his head, and he tightens the draw strings. “No more smearing spit on BJ, now, that part of dinner is done,” he says defensively, and Emily has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Bug,” she pats his head, and he hisses in response, but no one, not even him, takes that seriously anymore. It’s a few more days until there’s a break in the case. He’s standing upside down on his bedroom ceiling, concentrating on a certain riff on his ukelele, and Lydia is flopped on his bed, passively watching Coraline on the beat up vintage TV he and Charles spent last summer fixing up. “I can’t get this to sound right,” he complains to her, and in response,

she turns the movie up louder. “Oh, haha, my sister, the fuckin’ comedianne, she’ll be here all week, everybody,” and he flops on the mattress next to her, which makes her bounce a bit before they both settle. He’s laying on his back, ukulele on his chest, mumbling and strumming, and she’s on her stomach, watching that kinda horny scene where the nude old lady with the huge honkers unzips her fuckin’ skin, when she glances over at him. “Your face spots are fuzzy, now,” she comments. “It’s called a beard, short stack. Dad’s had one since you were five, you’d think-” “Shut up, dummy, I meant the schmaltz.” “You mean the schmutz. Different words mean different things.” “Whatever. Your nose is growing hair, like grandpa. It’s barforiffic.” He frowns, and sets the ukulele down besides his bed, and conjures himself a little hand mirror from his pocket dimension. Lydia’s breath hitches, because no matter how many years it’s been, she still loves that trick, the way it’s like he’s pulling something out of nothing. He stares at the splotches in his hand mirror, beholding his face in mock horror like that episode of the Twilight Zone, the one with the pig faced people. All other details aside, she’s right, the splotches are growing hair, sort of. It doesn’t feel exactly like hair, when he reaches an experimental finger to poke at it, it’s sort of.. He can’t describe it. Grassy? Not really hair, more like a short, fuzzy… “It’s moss,” he realizes, positioning the mirror to check his forehead, where the vegetation is growing softly there, too. “Gross. How often do you shower, you neanderthal?” Lydia scrunches up her nose at him. “Careful, or you’re getting a face full of demon pits when you’re tryna sleep tonight,” he bites back at her. “I shower a normal amount. Maybe..” sharp teeth worry his bottom lip as he thinks. “I’m showering too much?” “That can’t possibly be your take away from this.” “Well I don’t know, Ly-dee-uhh,” he drags out her name. “It’s not like I’ve got a handy dandy guide to being an undead demon thing tucked away that explains all the rules that come with bein’ me, okay? I’m just thinkin’, I could count as dead cause, ya know. No heartbeat. Dead people probably.. I mean plants might grow on em, right? Like if one was left murdered and unburied in th’ world, like in a damp forest, and surrounded by nature, maybe somethin’ would grow on their putrid, rotting corpse flesh?” Lydia sits up, and leans over him, pushing the hand mirror out of the way. “I’m picking this off of you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” she says, simply, and then uses her surprisingly strong kid strength to dig into the runny splotch on his left temple. She runs a nail up his skin, scraping at him, and he purrs in response, tongue flicking out of his mouth, snake like. “Big scary demon dead guy, and all it takes to tame him is a little bit of attention,” she teases, and he gives another half hearted hiss. “You’re like a cat, BJ.” When she’s finished, she cleans under her nails and looks pleased. “I think I got it,” she nods, and he checks in his hand mirror. They both watch in silence as the moss seems to instantly grow back. “Moooooom!” he whines, sitting up and tossing the hand mirror over his shoulder, where it disappears into nothing without touching the ground, tucked back safe in his pocket dimension. Emily pokes her head in a moment later. “Yeah, what’s up, Beej?” She’s got her long blonde hair all done in a neat bun, and there’s the slight tone of exasperation to her voice. “You kids aren’t fighting, right?” she asks, stepping into the room. “I am literally just sitting here,” Lydia motions to the tv, still displaying the stop motion exploits of her current idol and role model. “The green crap on my face, it’s moss!” Betelgeuse whines to her, outright ignoring her question to begin with. “I’m growing moss on my face, and Lyds scraped it off but it instantly grew back!” “It was kinda cool,” Lydia admits, not giving her older brother the satisfaction of looking at him when she says it. Emily,

meanwhile, puts a finger on her chin, and scrunches up her nose in thought. “Maybe.. Some weed killer might get rid of it?” she suggests, clearly unsure. “So you want me to drink POISON,” Betelgeuse instantly flops back on the bed, left hand thrown over his forehead, all dramatic. “Lured me into the family just to try and murder me years later, huh? You fooled me! With love!” He opens his eyes in time to see both Emily and Lydia rolling theirs. “You can’t just magic it away?” Lydia pokes the moss on his nose. “The way you did your last report card?” “Judas,” he hisses, dropping the glamour enough to glare at her with his snake slit amber eyes. “You did what?” ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` He’s back at school on Monday with a bandaid fix, which is literally a couple band aids across the spots, one plastered on his nose, the other one a large patch bandage on the spot on his temples where the green was growing in the most clearly. The bandages noticeably don’t blend in with his skin tone, despite touting themselves as flesh colored, because he’s got skin like a guy who never left his basement, and also is freshly fuckin’ dead. For extra cover, he’s wearing his “Guide” hat, a ratty gray policeman’s cap with a metal plate spelling out the word. Charles had bought for him from a Goodwill his first year up top. It does enough to hide the streaks of green, as long as he pulls it down a bit, and he’s not exactly known at school for being a style icon, so nobody thinks twice to see him wearing it, as he slips from the front seat of Charles’ car that morning. “Have a good day, son. Call me if.. If you need me,” Charles reminds him, and Lydia pipes up from the backseat. “Later, Bug beverage. Good luck.” She’s still feeling a bit guilty about snitching, apparently, because she blows him a kiss, which is super uncool and she clearly wants to take it back the second she’s done it, but he grins and pretends to catch it. “Later, family,” he closes the car door, and turns to face his day. School, he had learned a few years ago, is a uniquely breather torture experience thought up by the old to make the young loose out on their precious youths, there by getting back at them for being young and fun. That was his working theory all through his miserable first year of middle school, and high school is not disproving that theory in the least. He’s vaguely aware of the cliques that the breathers his age form, and there’s probably gossip about him, but for the most part, he’s just too weird for most of the humans his age to engage with him. He’s kind of got an aura, an indefinable something he can’t switch off, and it’s getting stronger the older he gets. Breathers are naturally more wary of him than they used to be. So yeah, he is the weird chubby kid in the striped hoodie and matching tripp pants, and under normal circumstances, he has to believe that would lead to bullying, but whatever ancient animal instinct these kids have, it tells them to steer clear of him. So school is, to put it frankly, lonely. It’s probably better to be mostly ignored than hated, he supposes, but that doesn’t make eating lunch in the quad by himself every day any less pathetic. He’s zoning out in first period, relaxing in his slacker seat in the back of the class, when things actually get interesting. Their teacher is a sort of slim, nervous looking man who teaches history, but right at that moment he’s announcing a new student. And it’s someone Betelgeuse recognizes, though he can’t place from where. The new boy, Kevin something Loh, apparently, is directed to take the only empty seat in the class, the seat right in front of Betelgeuse. As Kevin is walking down the aisle towards him, Betelgeuse is wracking his brain, trying to recall. Kevin is Asian, with high cheekbones and short black hair, carefully and deliberately styled. He’s also staring right at Betelgeuse. “You?” he whispers, sounding horrified. “Me,” Betelgeuse responds, propping his history book up on his desk and slumping down behind it, deciding he’s

fully content with napping this period away, and leaving this mystery unsolved. But Kevin is apparently worse at reading social cues than BJ is, because he’s still standing there, looming over Betelgeuse. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, sounding angry now, and Betelgeuse peaks up at him, amber eyes shining a faint amount from under the brim of his cap. “I am literally just sitting here.” “Mr. Loh, is there a problem?” their teacher askes, and the new kid whips around. “I refuse to sit next to this thing.” He points at Betelgeuse, who straightens up, a scowl playing across his features. “You wanna rephrase that?” the demon askes, gravely voice particularly dangerous sounding, because he’s NOT a thing. The humans all take note of the changing vibes in the room, growing uncomfortable. “Does someone want to switch with Mr. Loh, and sit in front of Mr. Deetz instead?” their teacher tries. The answer is silence. No one is giving up their seat next to friends to sit in front of the loner who smells like freshly dug grave dirt. “Well, then. Sit down, Mr. Loh. Mr. Deetz does not bite.” “But-” “Yeah, sit down, Kev, you’re interrupting my mid morning nap,” Betelgeuse scowls, fingers on his right hand twitching, and Kevin falls into his seat with a less than macho sounding yelp. From the glare he gets in return, he’s got a feeling Kevin’s not gonna be his new bff. When lunch rolls around, Betelgeuse finds his usual place in the quad, under the shade of a tree, and he’s about to summon forth his lunch from his little pocket dimension, when he hears a breather approaching from behind him. He’s sitting on the side that faces away from the main area, and all the happy friend groups enjoying their lunches and gossip, and towards the track field, cause if he’s gonna be sitting alone, at least he’s gonna get to watch boys and girls his age work up a sexy sweat. From a quick smell test he can tell the person approaching is Kevin. The guy reeks of some overly applied body spray mess, and it nearly puts him off his lunch. “What,” he groans, annoyed, not even looking back to address the other boy, and Kevin seems to freeze. He’d apparently thought he was being pretty sneaky. “Why are you following me?” is the first thing out of the new kid’s mouth, and that does actually cause Betelgeuse to turn and look at him, staring like Kev’s just proposed the earth is only round because Atlus keeps reinflating it to use like a blow up doll. “I,” Betelgeuse gestures very dramatically to himself. “Don’t knoooow,” he continues slowly. “Who you are.” Kevin, for some reason, seems to wilt a bit. “You really don’t remember me?” “I really don’t. Should I? You do somethin’ interestin’? Besides, single handedly keep Axe body spray in business?” “It’s not Axe!” Kevin stomps over to stand in front of him, offended. “Then axe it, my man, cause that scent is not workin’ for you,” Betelgeuse replies easily, leaning back against the tree to resume his track practice spying. “You juggled your head!” Kevin accuses him. Betelgeuse cocks an eyebrow, and his eyes flit back to Kevin. So he’s someone who had seen him use his powers, at some point? Yeesh. “You brought a field of pumpkins to life and nearly murdered me!” Ohhhh. “Yeah, well, you pushed me down,” Betelgeuse says, suddenly remembering. “So I guess we both suffered that day, didn’t we, Kev?” “So you admit it!” Kevin says tenselely, before sitting in the grass across from him. Betelgeuse watches him quietly. The breather seems confused. “Why are you here?” he asks, and Betelgeuse nods over at the bouncing, glistening track team. “The view.” Kevin glances in that direction and rolls his eyes. “Jackass, I meant at school,” he dead pans. Betelgeuse grins. “Well, th’ way my dad explained it, I have to be in government mandated kid jail, or else he goes to adult jail.” “So you’re a monster who has to go to school?” “Demon, but. Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he whispers the word. “Demon.” There’s a beat as he ponders over that. “Those people, who were with you at the store.. Are they demons

too?” “What? Th’ Deetzs? Nah. They’re human as they come.” “And you live with them?” “Yup,” he pops the “p,” quickly growing annoyed with this line of questioning. “And they-” “Listen, man,” Betelgeuse apparates his lunch from nothing, which causes Kevin to flinch, before realizing it's just food. “Can we skip all this? It’s a life changing revelation for you, I’m sure, but forget bored stiff, this is giving me rigor mortis. Yes, I’m a demon. I go to school here cause I’m th’ Deetz’s son, and no, there’s nothing wrong with them.” He grimaces. “Just me. I’m not following you around to torment you, you’re not that special. And yes,” he holds up the sandwich from his lunch. “This is a turkey club on a croissant. My human dad packed it for me, because he loves me.” There’s a small moment of silence. Kevin opens his mouth, and Betelgeuse, own mouth now full of food, groans. “Why do you have bandages all over your face?” “Because I murdered a pedophile four years ago and his vengeful, freak ass ghost won’t let it go.” “Really?” “No. That’s not even how ghosts work. God, breathers are so gullible.” “You’re such a dick,” Kevin replies, but there’s a faint hint of a smile, there. Betelgeuse feels it tugging at his own lips, too. “I’m growing moss on my face,” he admits after a moment. “Wasn’t sure how else to keep it hidden, so. Bandages. Not that I really care what people think-” “I can tell from the tripp pants, yeah,” Kev interjects, and Betelgeuse flips him off before continuing. “I’m not trying to get a bunch of attention for being weird.” “Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Kevin comments, picking lazily at the grass around him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “I was twelve. I’ve gotten a bit smarter, even if I was dragged kickin’ an’ screamin’ th’ whole damn way,” and this time, Kevin actually does smile. He mimics the other boy. He offers Kevin half his sandwich, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t eat lunch alone. They wait after school together, watching as their peers are picked up or loaded onto buses. “I used to have nightmares about you,” Kevin tells him, and Betelgeuse smiles flirtatiously. “So you’ve been dreamin’ of me. That’s hot.” He receives a punch in the arm for that. When his mom pulls up, with Lydia in tow in the backseat, he throws open the front passenger side door of the car. “Hey, ma, hey Lyds,” but Emily is looking past him. “BJ, is that a friend of yours?” She sounds thrilled. He turns and looks at Kevin, then back to her, and shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I dunno. He’s new, so we hung out at lunch, an’ talked. Maybe. I dunno.” “You should invite him over!” Emily grins, eyes shining. “Now?” “Now! We’re having take out for dinner, we could order more for him, easy! And he’s new, he probably doesn’t have any plans, and-” “Alright, alright, hold on,” he gripes, then waives Kevin over. The breather approaches the car, cautious. “Hey, so my mom, she says you can come over for dinner, if you want,” and God/Satan, he’s never felt more like an awkward, pimply faced teen than he does at that exact moment. If he sounds like a total loser, at least Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, cause he perks up. “Let me call my dad!” he whips out his cell phone so fast, Betelgeuse feels flattered. He actually wants to come over. He wants to spend some time together. Emily’s smile widens until she looks like a slasher on happy pills, and he climbs into the car front seat and nudges her. “Play it cool, ma,” he all but begs, and she looks to him. “I’m super cool, BJ. I’m a cool mom. Right, Lyds?” Lydia gives her best noncommittal shrug, the one Betelgeuse taught her, actually. “He said yes!” Kevin comes jogging back over to the car a minute later. “If that’s really okay, Mrs. Deetz?” “For sure! The more, the merrier!” They moved out of the apartment a little over a year ago. The new place had been a nightmare when they’d moved in, a Tudor style house with a lot of character, a lot of leftover trash, and a lot of bugs. He’d set about fixing that instantly, hunting down the tasty snacks, and Emily had stood in the middle of

the mess, chewing her bottom lip, and thinking. “I know, I know, it’s rough,” Charles had stood there, suddenly looking older than his age in a way Betelgeuse did not like. “But it’s a beautiful old house, with good bones, and room to grow, and.. It’s going to be a lot of work.” Lydia, precocious and eight, shuffled between her parents, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dump,” she declared, and both the adults looked down at her. “It’s not a dump,” Emily said. “It’s The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” “Em!” Seemingly ignoring her husband, she turned and went back to the car, and didn’t return until she had her record player and a sample of her collection of vinyl with her. “BJ! Come give this a shock, please? The power’s not on yet.” Betelgeuse apparated at her side, a new trick he’d been practicing, and Emily, ever Emily, didn’t even flinch. She just patted his head, as he grabbed the cord and gave it a shock of green static. She placed a record in the player, and adjusted the needle. The familiar sounds of Calypso began to fill the house. “Let’s clean up,” Emily smiled, and, singing along and dancing and laughing, the family had begun their first of many clean ups. It’s a nice memory, one he looks back on often. They’re pulling up to the house, Kevin in tow, and despite the unease he feels at having a new person in his space, at least their house, full of love, is a comforting energy to be wrapped in.

They lead Kevin in, and he follows Betelgeuse up to his bedroom.

“So, we got your common bedroom items,” he gestures grandly as they enter his space. “Dead rat, TV, dresser, mirror for inter dimensional travel, severed head for juggling,” he acknowledges that moment in their shared history. “Old trunk full of demon secrets,” he gives the antique steamer trunk by the foot of his bed a kick. It pops open to reveal very normal looking magazines. “All that good stuff.” The wall paper he chose for his room is a black and white pinstripe that dad had called “busy,” and mom had called “him,” and Kevin blinks a bit in surprise. “You, uh, really are dedicated to the stripes, huh? I prefer a simple black myself.. Black is always a statement.” Betelgeuse snorts. “It’s my pattern,” he says, and Kevin sort of nods, clearly not getting it. He tries again. “It’s, you know, important?” Kevin glances at him, and nods again, but seemingly more hesitant. “It’s a demon thing,” Betelgeuse says finally, tired of even his own clunky attempts at subtly. “My animal is a snake,” he explains. “And my colors are black and white.” Kevin looks mystified. “So, what does that… mean?”

“Means it’s my aspect. It’s important.. Demon stuff.”

The teens look at each other. Kevin squints. “You don’t know what it means.” “I got no fuckin’ clue,” Betelgeuse admits, flopping on his back in the air and hanging there, reclining on nothing. “It’s somethin’, somethin’, dominion over th’ beasts that crawl on their bellies, foul an’ tainted, I think was th’ phrase. But I don’t usually get many chances to be around snakes, so it’s not a talent I get to practice much.” Kevin looks insanely jealous of the way he’s floating there, weightless, which was exactly the point Betelgeuse had in mind when he struck the floating pose to begin with. “Point bein’, I’m drawn to black an’ white.”

“Same way you’re drawn to sweaty track stars?” Kevin smirks, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Fuckin’ exactly,” Betelgeuse grins at him, a smile Kevin matches. He might be out of his mind, but he feels something here. Kevin’s a good looking guy, and Betelgeuse isn’t exactly “picky.” He’s known for a long time his exact type is “someone who will give Betelgeuse attention and affection,” without worrying what exactly that means in the long run. “Gross,” rings a female voice, and the prolonged eye contact between the teens is broken by his nine year old sister, leaning against the door frame. She takes in the scene before her, him floating there, and Kevin.. Kevin seemingly looking a little flustered on the bed. He’s not sure if she gets what that’s about, hell, he hardly does, though he likes it. But she’s a bit young to pick up on romantic vibes, he thinks. Hopefully. “You’re not even trying to hide the whole, being a demon thing, are you?” she scowls. “Whatever, he already knew. He recognized me from the pumpkin patch. You probably don’t remember, you were five, but-” “I remember.” She squints, and then looks at Kevin, who gives a little waive. “What exactly are your intentions with my demon brother?” she asks, crossing her arms. Kevin actually blushes, a reaction Betelgeuse can both see and smell. Smells like blood and hormones, and it’s cute… he’s cute. “He’s just… weird. I’m, you know.. I just wanna know more. About him, and demons, and this otherworldly, supernatural business.” Ah. A little disappointing. He tries not to look let down, but he knows Lydia catches the look on his face. God/Satan, she’s a clever kid. “BJ isn’t your personal encyclopedia of paranormal bullshit. Besides, he hardly knows anything.” “Fuckin’ rude.” “Well!” she throws her hands up, a gesture he recognizes that she’s picked up from Emily. “I’m just saying, you don’t know enough to be that interesting.” He drops to his feet and puts a hand out, and she glares at him as an invisible force gently pushes her towards the door. “That’s enough, I think you’ve fulfilled your annoying little sibling requirements for today,” he grates at her, and she’s about out the door when Charles’ voice booms from downstairs. “Dinner!” Dinner is from Charles’ favorite Thai place, and the amount of food ordered seems to throw Kevin off guard. There’s a tall stack of delicious smelling styrofoam boxes, all of which are systematically set on the kitchen counter in a line, and the Deetz family goes through with plates, and helps themselves. It becomes clear pretty quickly that the amount ordered has more to do with who is eating, and not what they’re eating. Betelgeuse simply picks up two or three boxes instead of a plate, and settles at the table. His excuse for being a glutton has always been that his powers require a lot of energy for upkeep, but he’s not actually sure if that’s true. Also, it’s an excuse he’s never actually had to use, at least not in this house, because despite being somewhat akin to a garbage disposal in terms of food, his parents never give him any crap for eating. When he’d shown up, a skinny feral bitey little fuck, they’d been very encouraging of him stuffing his face. Now he’s older, obviously, and maybe he’s a bit chubby for his age, but it seems the entire family figures it’s better than looking starved, like he did before. He doesn’t think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat, but it feels good to have a full stomach, and he likes the way food tastes, so yes, he eats a lot. The way he sees it, it just means more B-Man to go around. Kevin, meanwhile, takes a polite amount and sits down next to him. “So, Kevin! Today was your first day?” Emily smiles brightly to the teen, who nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my dad now, so... new school,” he explains. Betelgeuse has the urge to pick up one of his boxes of food and take a cartoonish bite, like it’s a sandwich, but he doesn’t think that gag will play, right at this moment. “BJ has never brought a friend over before,” Charles says, unhelpfully. “Have too!” Betelgeuse protests, because he’s not trying to look like a total freak ass loser in front of the one person who seems

interested in talking to him.

Charles furrows his brow. “Who..? Oh, well…” he pauses. “I don’t know if.. If Sam counts…” “Sam was cool,” Lydia interjects, staring at Kevin, the unfinished half of her sentence being, “unlike you.” He’s got no clue why she’s gunning for Kev the way she is, but it’s kinda funny to watch a nine year old intimidate a teen. “He came over, didn’t he? Sure, it was uninvited, through a mirror, but I’m counting it anyways.” “BJ,” Charles starts, but Betelgeuse just shrugs. “It’s fine, dad. He knows. He was at the pumpkin patch.” It takes Charles and Emily a moment, but they both suddenly look nervous. “BJ is a good kid!” Emily blurts immediately, sounding defensive and looking at Kev, who sort of gives a nod. “It’s cool, I… threw tantrums when I was little, too. I mean, mine weren’t like. Cool vegetation apocalypses, but, you know.” He gives an easy shrug, before looking at Betelgeuse. “Who is Sam? Another demon?” “A better demon,” Lydia mutters, and at this point, he’s a second away from teleporting her into the neighbor’s pool. “He’s like Santa for Halloween, if Santa enforced Christmas time cheer with extreme violence.” “He’s Halloween Krampus,” Emily supplies helpfully, and he nods. “He’s the spirit of Halloween, and he’s cool. He’s only around one night, and he’s usually busy workin’, but when he gets a moment he pops in and we hang out. You’d probably-” like him isn’t exactly the right words. Humans don’t tend to feel easy in Sam’s presence. “- get along?” he finishes, but that also doesn’t seem likely. Sam isn’t outright cruel… usually. But his aura is clearly threatening, and he doesn’t play nice. The only reason Betelgeuse isn’t worried about his humans is because Sam has very clear, very structured rules. Rules that Emily had already been following, regardless of demonic threat. Also, last Halloween, Lydia had gone as Sam, orange jumpsuit, burlap sack and button eyes and everything, and Sam, ever a being of few words, had said, Flattered. He figures that probably earned the Deetz family at least one get out of murder free card. “This is all so cool,” Kevin twirls his fork around his pad phak. “It’s like, something from a movie. I can’t believe demons are.. Real. And I know about them.” There is, for a moment, a shine in his eyes that makes Betelgeuse uncomfortable, but it passes so quickly, he starts to assume he imagined it. He gives in, picks up a styrofoam box full of spicy chicken, and takes a bite out of the whole thing. His dad groans. After they’re done eating, they play video games, and whatever that moment was at dinner, he forces himself to forget it. Kevin is cute, and Kevin wants to talk to him, and that’s about as much as he cares to think about, right now. When Mr. Loh comes to pick him up, Kevin gives Betelgeuse’s hand a squeeze. It’s just the two of them, on the front porch, under the stars only he can see, because light pollution makes them invisible to the human eyes. Still, the setting feels intimate, and that hand holding cements it, at least at that moment. He’s not imagining it. “See you tomorrow?” Kevin smiles, and Betelgeuse knows his face flushes a little more purple at that. “Uh, yeah, for sure,” he says, and Kevin steps off the front porch and hurries to his dad’s car, their moment broken, but he stands there a while anyways, even after the car disappears down the street. He takes his own hand in hand, and gives it a squeeze, trying to imitate what Kevin had done flawlessly. He wanders inside after a while, but just stands with his back to the front door, replaying that simple moment over and over, until Charles, passing him on his way up to bed, pauses. “BJ? Your hair is… pink.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #otho beetlejuice

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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Flashback Friday || Morgan & Luis

TIMING: Distant past, in the days of yee-haw

LOCATION: The Magick Cauldron, Houston, Texas

PARTIES: @ontheluis & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Luis wanders into a magic shop looking for some herbs, Morgan spies an opportunity, and the cards know more than either of them reckon.

CONTAINS: Mellow yee-haw vibes

“Welcome, traveler, to the Magick Cauldron! Browse at your pleasure and inquire if you have any questions!” Morgan had given the scripted greeting so many times, it came out of her in full customer service cheer every time the shop door opened. She didn’t even look up from the book she had open under the cash register anymore, but flipped another page and let the customers let her know if there was something worth talking about by shouting ‘lady!’ or coming into her peripheral view.

The Magick Cauldron was the only occult shop still standing West Houston after the Y2K stress fads had died away and the first bout of shiny, corporate development had found its way into Montrose and bulldozed a crystal shop, a Greek deli, and one of the few ladies-only gay bars in favor of a mixed use building that so far only housed a nail salon and a Jamba Juice. Ralf, the fine proprietor of the Cauldron as he called himself, said that this space was protected. As the door chimed open again and Morgan made her welcome speech, bright and shiny as the plastic plate armor hanging in the kid’s section, she wondered if he was right. She never seemed to serve more than a dozen or so customers during her shifts, but the lights stayed on, day after sweltering day. If Ralf was right, it might just be the one piece of real magic in the place, not that she could say that to anyone’s face.

The warped outline of a boy rippled over the glass counter and Morgan blinked up from her book. “Is there something I can help you with, weary traveler?” She asked wryly.

“Sorry ma’am,” Luis assured, “didn’t mean to bring the stray in here,”

Evening had fallen outside, heat from the blistering still wafting off the pavement. Telephone poles and streetlights were thin black columns that stood stark against the blazing orange and wane blues of sunset.

“Go on, git!”

At the Magick Cauldron’s threshold was an enormous black dog. Even while quietly sitting on its haunches the shaggy canine was easily as tall as the teenage boy snapped at it. Pupiless red eyes regarded Luis impassively, only an ear twitch showing that the dog wasn’t just a statue.

When the black dog gave no indication of actually entering the store nor stopping its scrutiny of Luis, the young man cut his losses and regarded the woman at the counter again.

“Here,” Luis reached into a pocket of his jeans and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it on the counter. The names of herbs and powders were written in someone else’s prime neat handwriting. “I uh don’t know what any of this is…,” he confessed.

Morgan took the paper carefully between her fingers, trying not to let her discomfort at how damp and sweaty it was show too much. It didn’t take much to figure out she was looking at an herbalist mixture for anxiety and sleeplessness. She looked up and the boy, and down to the list again. “We’ve got everything you need over here,” she said. She lead the boy over to the bulk aisle where the dried herbs and bottled oils were kept and alphabetized. “Did you want these bagged separate or together? Or--you probably don’t know how these work huh? We’ll do separate, so you can use any excess as you wish. But fair warning, we have a purchase minimum of one ounce for each item.” She put a small paper bag on the shelf in the middle of the display and started shovelling the herbs in. As she worked, she glanded sidelong at the kid and the dog that had decided to become instantly fond of him. Someone cared about them, to throw together this recipe, and he looked embarrassed enough for a kid his age to seem like he needed help. Would it be wrong to squeeze a few more dollars out of him if it so happened to brighten his day or give him some direction? Sure, he was scruffy, but not so much as to be desperate. He could afford a few extra bucks, right?

“Hey, you okay there?” Morgan asked him. “You seem a little lost. I’m getting some ‘needs direction’ vibes from you.” She gestured vaguely. “If you’re looking for Niko Niko’s, it’s just further down the street. You’re not supposed to leave your car here while you go over there, but I won’t tell. And if you need something a little less literal, I might be able to help you with that.” She nodded toward the oracle room at the back of the shop, with its hand painted sign hanging crooked from a nail and entryway draped with lavender beads. “I do have sliding scale rates, if it helps you make up your mind.”

The great black dog continued to watch Luis in silent stillness, the Barghest’s posture poised as if waiting for something.

“No offense ma’am but I don’t believe in…,” the teenager half-turned but caught sight of the enormous stray waiting for him in the darkening sunset. Those pupiless red eyes immediately filled Luis with a nameless dread. Cold sweat stained the back of his T-shirt as Luis’ skin went clammy despite the Texan heat. Luis couldn’t process why some random big-ass dog would wig him out so much. He wasn’t even afraid of it biting him or even the dog itself.

So why was his heart pounding in his temples?

“Yeah uh..s-seperate would be great,” Luis reaffirmed to Morgan needlessly. The labels on the tinctures and herbal selections blurred in his vision as Luis tried to get a handle on his thoughts. “Direction like, oh you mean to the interstate,” Luis replied in a misinterpretation of Morgan’s broader meaning. “I’m alright thanks, yeah merging on that triple hairpin by Foster is a pain in the ass but it's chill.”

Luis looked over to the oracle room with the dubiety of someone for whom the occult was just a vague ‘other’ mentioned at Mass or when abuela suggested a Sonora Market cure for whatever new cold was going around. He seemed about to decline again until the creeping skin-crawl of Barghest’s glare boring into his back made Luis amenable to any distraction.

“Yeah uh sure,” he said, taking a step towards the beaded shroud. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Morgan followed the boy’s eyes to the dog. He was looking pretty well fed for a stray, and his eyes--red, alert, sharp with an uncommon intelligence--made her shiver. Definitely supernatural. She didn’t know, how, or what, but it didn’t look good. “And I mean--” How to put this in just the right way? Or at least the more convincing way? “I mean your spirit, your chakras. Believe in your connection to the universe or not, but are you really going to say to my face that you know how you’re going to make your life worthwhile to yourself? That you know how to reach your greatest good?” No one did. Heck, she was a devout wiccan most days out of the year and even she didn’t know what her highest, greatest good looked like. “And if you’ve got the cash, I’ll throw in a cleansing, something to make--” she gestured at him vaguely, “Whatever negative heavy energy this is that’s stuck to you. Seriously, do you ever feel tired out of nowhere?” It was summer and the sun was exhausting; everyone got tired out of nowhere.

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but Morgan was tired of ordering off the dollar menu for dinner and she felt like she was taking her life into her own hands when she conjured money from school pens and laundry lint cotton. This kid’s money might get her a pot pie that didn’t come from the freezer, or enough tacos to last her a week, or maybe she’d blow it all on seafood, or a dress that hadn’t been worn by someone else. “I’ll ring you up first, and then we’ll see about getting the rest of you squared away.” Morgan did, and when that part of the transaction was over, she lead him into the oracle room.

In truth, the oracle room was an old storage closet with the door taken out. Morgan breezed through them and went to the antique flea market find armoire, where all the necessary items were kept. Morgan took out a small tray of tarot decks and took the one she liked best, a well loved Raider-Waite with stars on the backs and gold-gilt edges. “I’ll shuffle them myself, but you should tell me when to cut and start again and when to stop. When I’m done, you’ll spread them. You’re the one who needs to connect with the deck, after all.”

Rafael Martininez had given his son that smirking half-smile while Malia had given Luis the pale blue eyes watching Morgan shuffle cards. Sweaty light brown hair clung to his forehead beneath the Dallas Burn hat, stray strands dangling back his eyes. The lanky teenager sat awkwardly across from the cartomancer, doubting not only her veracity but that a term like destiny could even apply to someone like him.

Like many children who’re so profoundly blessed to grow up in a home of unconditional love, Luis had no idea that Rafael and Malia given him a protection rarer than talismans, weirds, or wards. Rafael had come to this country for a better life, and Malia had wanted a home that was safer then the hell she’d left. Together they’d given both dreams to their children, so Luis and his siblings would never have to go through what they had.

The freckled face that lifted to Morgan’s was innocent of hate, abuse, or fear of abandonment. Even in following a strange woman into a shrouded back room, it’d never occurred to Luis to worry about anything more sinister than carnival charlantry.

“So uh...like this ma’am,” Luis asked as he placed some cards face down on the table.

It was this very innocence in Louis that dulled the edge off Morgan’s guilt. It was wrong (if wrong was a real concept) to spoil something pure, but if she was really the worst thing that was going to happen to this kid in his teenage years, he was pretty darn lucky. At least he was getting some introspection out of the deal. Could he have gotten a tarot deck from the discount bookstore two blocks over for a quarter of what she was going to charge him, or thought everything out on his own for free? Yes. But he was also some bushy tailed high school kid; could happen wasn’t the same thing as would happen.

She’d had more instructions to give, some arbitrary waving of hands and maybe some visualization in what one of her co-workers called her ‘yoga voice’, but Louis, in his eagerness, had taken more than the requisite three cards she had planned on, wich just meant she had a ready-made excuse for the forty dollars she was going to take from him. “My, my, aren’t we eager?” She said. “What’s interesting to me already is that you have intuitively drawn out one of the more complex and energy taxing card spreads. Imperfectly, but--” She straightened them out at random until they made more of a geometric pattern. “See? I barely did anything at all. These cards must really like you. I don’t normally do something this involved, but it looks like there’s something here that wants to come out, and I’m not in the business of stifling anyone’s growth or energy.”

Morgan flipped the first card over to reveal The Fool and managed to keep her laughter light and soft. “Well, even if I hadn’t been doing this for so long, this is you, where you are right now. Don’t take the title personally, these are antiquated terms. He’s just young, and at the start of a great journey, not even begun, just on the precipice. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and the sun, see? It’s shining on him to show that the universe is aligned with his desires. The world wants you to support you, wants to see you succeed.”

The second card. The Tower. Morgan’s eyes widened. Not really vibing with the story she’d been telling, but maybe the one after… Eight of Cups. Morgan flipped over the last ones. Death and The Moon. “Hmm...Fascinating...” Morgan said, stalling for a way to spin this. “The thing about the major arcana is the magnitude of forces. Forces like destiny and fate and the collective consciousness. These forces are bigger than a ten minute fight with your friends or what you want to do after graduation, these are ‘beyond your control’. And you have four. The universe really does have plans for you, that’s kind of exciting, right?” She smiled, hoping to get some confirmation from him, or at least some more of his trust. “What does your intuition tell you about this journey, honey?”

Morgan’s performative coaxing elicited a dubious look, but the striking illustrations of the Tarot drew Luis’ attention regardless. The fool was poised with one foot over the cliff, smiling blissfully as the sun warmed his back. The tower’s blackened crenellations tumbled down the cliffside as the once indomitable edifice was battered into ruins by a storm. A haggard traveler slumped down in relief on a river bank as eight golden chalice stood resplendent over the churning rapids. Death rode on its pale horse, a scythe clutched in one skeletal hand while offering an exquisitely detailed rose. The Moon slept in the sky above a verdant shore. Wolves howled in its light while pelagic creatures breached on the lunar tide.

“Woah that art on these is something else,” admitted Luis as he squinted at the intricate illuminations, clearly sensitive to aesthetics but not the higher esoteric meaning.

Unfortunately intuition is only as good as the experiences which inform it and Luis Martinez had been sheltered from the world’s cruelty. It was a blessing to be sure, but it also made Luis unable to imagine that evil doesn’t need consent to claim you.

“My intuition is uh,” floundered the young man who had about as much affinity for divination as the average block of cedar. “The ranch’ll catch on fire, maybe a relative will die, but we’ll find like eight things that’ll make it better before the next full moon,” Luis posited.

Morgan’s stomach rumbled as the boy ogled the artwork on the cards. She was tempted to commend the kid on his ‘uncanny insight’ into the realm of the divine and take her money and run down the street for a hot stack of tacos. But the kid was so bright eyed and easily awed. She felt like she owed him at least some of her knowledge, even if she thought the tarot was psychological self-talk at best.

“Fortunately for your relatives, nothing here is quite that literal,” she said, laughing warmly. “But this journey you’re on, both within and without, is going to be perilous.” Perilous to the point of being seriously dangerous and traumatic, if this really was his subconscious sensing something on the horizon. But that wasn’t something she was going to say to his face. She wanted money without having to lie to her mother about where it came from later. “Even though your desires are upheld by the earth and stars, there will come a time when it feels as though you’ve been cast out and lost everything. But the key to staying your course is to…” What was a precious uplift-y way to spin this? “Hold fast to your sense of self. Remember the core of who you are and what you want. Because, if you do, then you will survive the upheavals, and you will be able to choose wisely what to keep, what to leave behind, and end up so strong, it’ll feel like you’ve been resurrected and leveled up into a new, better, cooler version of yourself!” She had no idea how to make sense of the moon card in a positive five star customer service rating sort of way, so she moved it underneath the spread, smiling like this had been her master plan all along.

“This card with the moon and the wolves isn’t your endgame, it’s an indicator of the vehicle, the thing that encompases the whole. All this massive change ahead of you isn’t necessarily going to be visible to everyone. It comes from within, sometimes hidden, like how you can only see the stars when it’s dark out and most of the world is asleep, and wolves howl when the world is in shadows. It’s like that. And it’s going to be amazing.”

Morgan checked her watch and slumped back in her chair as if she were exhausted. Not a hard thing to do when it was this hot out. “So, that’s gonna be forty dollars for the energy and the insight. Technically, with how many cards you pulled, it should be a little more, but I can tell you’re taking a risk on something new here and I want to honor that. But we can keep going if you have any more questions!”

“Vehicle huh...not sure dad’s gonna let me spraypaint moons and wolves on the truck,” Luis mused, perhaps taking the ‘vehicle’ thing a bit too literally or not wanting to think too hard about the possibility of his life changing.

Luis looked over the intricately illustrated cards, eyebrows wrinkling as he tried to parse through the profound chicanery Morgan had spouted. A bite of the lower lip hinted that Luis had never really encountered those who could appear to say everything while stating nothing particularly specific.

“Well shiiiii..,” the teenager breathed before glancing up at Morgan and catching himself with a small hssk of inhalation, as if some inner parental voice had scolded him about cursing in front of a lady. “That was pretty cool,” he amended, clearly at a loss before everything he’d been told, too polite to claim he didn’t believe any of it, but also too much a child of modernity to heed the weird feeling in his gut that recognized something...hit different...about this chance prophecy.

Luis grinned bashfully and unknowingly let fate’s final warning pass him by.

“Forty bucks huh, I’ll havta explain that somehow,” the young man noted with the mild consternation of someone blessed enough to just worry about a family member who’d be more peeved about gas money going to “fortuneteller” then the actual cash itself.

The bills slid across the table after some awkward wallet-riffling. “Thank you ma’am.”

Morgan snatched up the bills and shoved them down her shirt before the kid could change his mind. Whatever ominous feelings his subconscious were trying to air out was no concern for her. She had too many problems of her own to bother with anyone else’s. “It takes a long time to read the cards,” she drawled smugly. “And lots of energy, to open oneself and reach beyond the veil.” She waved her fingers as if to say tootles, and went back to fanning herself until he was gone.

She helped a lady find some yarrow and made up a policy about consultation fees to get another $10 in her pocket. She was using her agency to bridge the gap between minimum shop girl wage and living wage, working her will to get the right kind of energy flowing her way. Mostly, the energy of not-starving and not invoking the ire of darkness from using alchemy to get ahead. It didn’t line up with the rest of what she understood, neutral magic forces should be lining up to help her right her cosmic access and be less chronically miserable, but that was a problem to untangle another day.

At the end of her shift, Morgan shuffled the cards once again and lined them up on the cleansing plate the shopkeeper wanted the used decks put on. By chance, or so she told herself, she picked up the topmost card to see what was there for her. But it was just the death card, and Morgan knew the last thing that was gonna happen to her life was a hard reset. She stuck it back in the middle of the deck and slipped away into the long shadows that marked the summer evening.

#flashback friday #wr luis #wr chatzy #wr luis chatzy

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televisionrulesthenation · 3 years ago

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S1E8 - “To Tell or Not to Tell”

Original air date: November 14, 1961

Episode recap

The Petries are hosting a dinner party. Buddy and Sally do a sing-songy comedy routine while Rob plays the piano. Rob gets up and does a physical comedy routine. Laura gets up and does (what I assume is) some sort of ‘60s-style dancing. Cut to the end of the party, all the guests leave, Rob is tired, Laura goes on and on about what I wonderful time she had dancing.

Next day at the office Rob talks about how much fun Laura had dancing for the dinner party audience. Buddy is worried. Apparently non-homemaking interests from the wife should be worrying to the husband. Mel comes in and asks Rob if Laura can fill in as a dancer on the show this week. Buddy gets more worried. He thinks being married to a career woman is bad. Rob calls Laura to see if she’s interested assuming she won’t be. She’s interested.

Back at home Rob and Richtie are having dinner together because Laura is still rehearsing at the show. He fails at making a TV dinner. They eat bananas instead. Later that night Laura comes home tired. Rob has questions about how to operate the washing machine. Roles have become reversed. Rob is not happy but keeps it to himself.

Next day at the office the snappy service guy is dropping off lunch for Rob, Buddy and Sally. Laura comes in on a break looking hot in her leotard. The lunch delivery guy gawks over her.

After Laura’s successful week as a fill-in, Mel tells Rob he wants to offer her a permanent contract as a dancer on the show. Rob is worried but delivers the news to Laura at home that night. Laura is happy. She had a fun week proving to herself she could do it. But her body can’t keep up. She wants to be a homemaker not a career woman. Rob is relieved.

Everything is about me

Ostensibly, we can make it on my salary alone. But then she went back to work part-time, and the budget balanced a little more easily. We were able to move into this bigger house. There was a little money for some fun.

But she wasn’t happy working, and we figured she didn’t need to work, so she quit.

And the budget got tighter. We can make it. But there’s not a lot of room for fun. Or all those finishing aesthetic touches on our new house.

Her going back to work part-time bought me some peace if I’m being honest.

In the back of my mind I figured as the kids got older, she’d be able to work more, and that be our money boost. I didn’t need to obsess over getting promoted to make an income leap. That leap would be solved for organically by her eventually working full time.

And I still sort of feel that way. But her quitting is a temporary blip. Like I said, she wasn’t happy. She was feeling stressed and not operating in a position of strength to be the best mom she could be. She wants to focus on her health and happiness and kids’ health and happiness.

She wanted to figure out what the heck she wants to do with the rest of her life. She wants to take an art class and find the right exercise program and start a garden and do whatever else projects.

Problem is all that figuring out costs money and there isn’t a whole lot of it to spare in the current tight budget. And my attitude is probably putting pressure on her that some sort of clock is counting down until she figures something out and gets back to work. I keep saying “this year” or “these two years” like there’s a cliff at the end.

And she really doesn’t love doing some of the things she would need to do to truly make this work. We backed off some expenses, like housecleaner and dog groomer only once per month. But haven’t gone truly all in.

To truly make this work, we would need no housecleaning, no dog grooming, no pool cleaner, no yard guy. Her do all that stuff, work it into a schedule. Do whatever the 2021 version of clip coupons is, and really lock down our grocery budget. Essentially do all the homemaking things.

Our kids’ soccer training schedules are brutal Monday through Thursday evening and we still haven’t figured out how to do dinner those nights in a healthy and cost effective way with our sanity in check. That would take effort that she doesn’t want to put forth.

So it’s been four months, and she is not any closer to figuring out what she wants to do, she is not any healthier or happier. The trade-off was supposed to be less money for more time and happiness. But I’m not sure we are getting what we paid for with the forgone part-time dollars she was bringing in.

I am not sure where that leaves her or us.

Episode observations

Life before cell phones

No major changes to the plot except I reckon many of these Rob/Laura conversations--both the routine and the difficult--happen via text not phone.

Clothes and fashion

Rob’s cardigan and polo shirt and slacks house wear, he looked like Mr. Rogers.

Richtie’s robe and button up pajamas, he looked like Hugh Hefner.

Laura’s leotard, she looked hot.

Vocabulary lesson

Someone, I think it may have been buddy, said something along the lines of, “give him a rap, right in the mouth.” I assume raps means punch/hit/strike. I feel like I’ve heard this usage before but can’t think of where.

OK, wow, just Googled it, and this usage is the first definition in both noun and verb form, while rap as in the music is the second definition.

Best joke/funniest moment

Clearly, the funniest moment of the show was Buddy’s. He was funny throughout. But one moment in particular stood out. He’s talking to Rob about how to get Laura give up on a career in dance and says to take her on a skiing trip. Rob replies that Laura can’t ski, she’ll break her leg. Buddy gets this evil look in his eyes and says, “yeah” with a dramatic pause. The “yeah” was good enough, but he tags on, “you catch on fast.” They call back to this at the end of the episode when Laura mentions maybe she could dance on the show one week per year then Rob asks if she’d like to go skiing.

But I have to give honorable mention to a not as funny but just so well written joke. Rob is about to call Laura about her career prospects. Buddy says, don’t do anything rash. Sally says, leave him alone, it’s his rash.

(Dishonorable mention to Sally’s jokes about needing a husband. They are getting old and I would like them to stop.)

Assorted thoughts on life in the 1960s

Laura’s dancing at the beginning of the episode was odd looking to me. I guess it’s just dated. I kept waiting for it to be a comedy setup. That she’d get injured or something. Not that it’d be interpreted as good.

People watched sing-songy variety shows on TV backed then apparently. Up until this episode--or maybe the previous episode--I hadn’t put much thought into what the fictional Alan Brady Show was supposed to be. But I guess it’s a sing-songy variety show. And I guess people liked that sort of thing. I haven’t done a “checking in with my mom” section on this blog recently and probably should have on this topic. Maybe in upcoming posts I will get her take on ‘60s variety shows

The 1960s attitude on traditional gender roles were on heavy display. Buddy was laying it on thick about disdain for working women, e.g. “losing a wife, gaining a roommate.” (Buddy has plenty more borderline sexist analogies about working women sprinkled throughout.) Mel checks with Rob first about career decisions concerning Laura. Rob can’t cook, even a frozen dinner. Eventually Laura conforms to this too, admitting she’d wants Rob to take her away from all this, doesn’t want to be a dancer, she wants to be a wife.

Final thoughts

Sometimes I question if were are splitting the baby to some extent when it comes to working. At least at this point now that our youngest is less than a couple years to middle school. That is should we go full traditional model or full dual income model not this mixed economy model we’ve got going on? And sometimes I think maybe we’re doing exactly the work-life integration model that 2021 calls for.

#s1 #e8 #the dick van dyke show #sitcoms #tv #dick van dyke #mary tyler moore #1960s #work #marriage #happiness #money

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andinewton · 5 years ago

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So, here’s that oneshot I mentioned last night. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff, plain and simple, and I hope you enjoy it! I’m tempted to carry this one on, and in fact, I could link all my Victor onshots into one big story, as that’s what they are in my head! Anyways, enjoy!

Beautifully proofread/checked over by my gorgeous eldest daughter, @mrslancemcclain. And just to confirm what she checked; the trademark is deliberate!

MLQC - Telling Victor

You were nervous. Actually, scratch that, you weren’t nervous, you were HECKING nervous. You had been having meetings with Victor for years. You had had dinner with Victor hundreds of times. You had breakfast with him whenever he was in the country…mostly because you all but lived at his house with him now, but that was beside the point. Today, you were nervous, and there was no getting around it.

You were a couple™. Everyone knew the legendary CEO of LFG had been dating a producer for well over a year, Victor proudly showed you off at events for the press and business associates alike, smiling smugly that you were his and his alone. Except, now you weren’t. And you had to tell him.

His flight was due in at midday and you had messaged him, carefully avoiding the cliched and easily misinterpreted; we need to talk. So you told him you wanted to see him as soon as you could. You were sure he looked at the message and muttered dummy before replying, but you did get a message back, saying to come to his office at three that afternoon. Which was why at 2.50pm you found yourself staring up at the building with the biggest butterflies you had ever felt doing laps in your stomach.

‘Come on, don’t make me feel any more sick than I already do.’ You grumbled to yourself before setting your shoulders and walking in the front door.

You had dressed up, you hated to admit it but you wanted Victor to realise you had made an effort for him. Your makeup was as perfect as you could get it, subtle pastel to match the white dress with pink floral print you wore. The skirt floated around your knees, your heels clicking on the marble floor as you made your way to the elevator, waving a greeting at the receptionist as you always did.

You fiddled with the strap of your bag as you watched the numbers go up on the display. Why did the boss always have to be on the top floor? It just made going all that way up more nerve-wracking, as though you weren’t in a state already. You smiled at people who got in and out on your ride up but it failed to meet your eyes. You wondered if they noticed, logically knowing they probably had more important things to worry about than if their boss’ girlfriend smiled properly at them, but you still felt bad for not putting all your effort into it.

Finally the elevator sounded its arrival and you walked towards Goldman, who glanced up from his work to give you a warm smile. ‘Hi, MC, long time no see.’

‘It has been over a week.’ You replied, finally able to smile properly at Goldman, if only for the moment. ‘How have you been?’

‘Productive.’ He leant forward conspiratorially and you laughed. It was an in joke for the pair of you, that Victor being away made you more productive as though he wasn’t breathing down your neck, and it had carried on even now that you were in a relationship. You appreciated that things hadn’t changed.

‘Same.’ You replied. ‘Can I go straight in?’

‘Sure, I know he’s looking forward to seeing you, even if his face doesn’t show it. Can I get you anything to drink?’

You shook your head. ‘I’m good. Thanks though.’

‘Let me know if you change your mind.’ He pressed the intercom and was greeted with a terse; yes? From Victor. ‘MC is here.’

‘Then send her in.’

Goldman waved his hand towards the office door with a flourish and you mouthed a quick thank you to him before heading in.

‘There she is.’ Victor’s voice was warm when he greeted you but he didn’t look up, finishing whatever work was on his desk.

‘Here I am.’ You shrugged, even though he wasn’t looking at you.

‘Sit.’ He waved his fountain pen at the seat in front of him without a glance your way and you did as he asked with a small sigh.

You weren’t sure if you were glad you had a reprieve of a few minutes or unhappy you couldn’t just get it over with. Your mind was working overtime with potential outcomes of this conversation, most of them not good, so you decided the latter was more accurate. You bounced your leg out of pure tension, fingers now rubbing the soft material of your dress between them as your bag was on the floor.

‘I missed you.’ Victor said before putting the lid on his pen and finally looking at you. ‘Are you alright?’ His smile quickly morphed into a concerned frown as he took in the expression on your face.

‘Me? I’m fine. How are you? How was your flight?’ You garbled out a quick reply which did nothing to alleviate the worry in his eyes, more added suspicion to them.

‘Okay, spill it. What’s bothering you?’

‘I’m not bothered.’ You laughed nervously.

‘Riiiiiight.’ He got up and came around the desk, sitting on the edge in front of you with one leg on the floor, arms folded. ‘I have nowhere else to be. You can either tell me and we move on or we wait all afternoon for you to figure out whatever it is that isn’t bothering you.’

You huffed out a breath then sat up straight. You knew Victor didn’t appreciate beating around the bush but you had to say a couple of things first. ‘I missed you too, by the way.’ You replied to his earlier statement. ‘And you know that I love you, right?’

‘Of course.’ His brows knitted further at the strange way you were going about expressing your affection. ‘Just like I love you.’

‘Okay, good, good.’ You nodded a couple of times. ‘Because I really like this. Like us.’

‘Do you think I forgot that fact on a three day business trip? Trust me, I know you’re happy. You’re easy to read…most of the time.’

‘You can’t read me right now?’ You narrowed your eyes, wondering just what he was seeing as he hadn’t figured it out. At least, you didn’t think he had.

‘I can tell something is bugging you, something you’re struggling to tell me. You don’t look guilty, like you do when you rush your report but claim to have put in weeks of work. Or when you eat the last pudding and won’t admit it.’ You gave a small laugh as just how well he knew you sank in. ‘Which means it’s something else, I just can’t put my finger on what it is.’

‘I don’t think you’ll guess it.’ You smiled apologetically.

‘I might.’

‘I’m pregnant.’

Victor’s face froze for a moment, unblinking and unmoving until it seemed he suddenly reanimated, unfolding his arms before immediately folding them again. ‘You’re right, I wouldn’t have guessed that.’

You swallowed hard. ‘You’re not mad, are you? Because I didn’t do this on purpose, you know I’m on the pill, and I didn’t miss any, or take any medication to mess with them, but they’re only like ninety-nine percent accurate and I guess I fell into that one percent because it’s happened, and why aren’t you saying anything?’

Victor took in a long slow breath, releasing most of it before speaking. ‘Because you’re not giving me a chance to get a word in edgeways.’ He got off the desk and crouched beside you, taking both of your hands in his. ‘I’m not mad. It’s going to take some getting used to, but definitely not mad.’

‘You’re sure?’ You asked quietly, your voice filled with emotions.

‘I’m sure.’ He nodded before kissing the back of each of your hands in turn. ‘How far along are you?’

‘By the math the doctor did, ten weeks. It’s still early, but my pants are already getting tight.’

‘I’ll buy you more pants.’ He laughed, loving how you focused on the strangest things. ‘But that doesn’t give us too much time.’ Getting to his feet he went back around the desk and opened a drawer.

‘Much time for what?’ You looked at him in confusion as he came back towards you.

‘To organise a wedding.’ He opened the small box he had hidden in his palm and showed you a beautiful sapphire ring surrounded in diamonds and set in a platinum band. ‘The business trip was just an excuse to go collect this from the jeweller I commissioned this from.’

‘Wait, what?’ Your confusion grew, as did your eyes, your brain trying to process just what was happening. ‘What?!’

‘Idiot.’ He chuckled. ‘Does this clear things up? I want to marry you, and wanted to ask you to be my wife before you told me what may just be the best news I’ve ever had. So, what do you say? Am I putting this ring on your finger or did I just waste a few days of my time as well as a few weeks of the artisan’s?’

‘You suck at proposing.’ You sputtered as your ever fluctuating hormones drew tears to your eyes.

Victor rolled his eyes but obligingly got down on one knee and took your hand in his. ‘MC, you are an absolute dummy, but so am I for waiting so long to do this. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Your bottom lip trembled and your voice came out high pitched. ‘Well, now you made me cry!’

‘That’s not a yes.’ He reminded you impatiently.

‘Yes!’

The fact you had managed to utter the word in a tone that you would assume only dogs could hear didn’t stop him from sliding the ring onto your finger, fitting perfectly by some miracle, and he shifted to both knees before pulling you by the hips into his lap and kissing you firmly.

‘Come on, don’t cry. You’ll confuse the kiddo.’ He stroked your back reassuringly as you laugh-cried in response.

‘I don’t think the baby knows what’s going on, because I sure as hell don’t.’

‘You never know what’s going on.’ He wiped at the tears on your cheeks softly. ‘How about we go celebrate somewhere nice?’

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious of the way he said it. ‘Where did you have in mind?’

‘Our place.’ He grinned as he effortlessly stood with you in his arms. ‘Because as of right now you live there too.’ He pressed the button on the intercom before sitting in his chair with you on his lap.

‘Yes, sir?’ You heard Goldman say as Victor curved his arms fully around you and cuddled you in close.

‘Find a removals company who are available asap.’

‘A removals company, sir?’ Goldman’s confusion was evident.

‘That’s right. She said yes.’

‘That’s wonderful news, sir, I’ll…’

Victor cut him off and reached up, cupping your face in his palm and stroking your cheek with his thumb. ‘Are you ready to go home, my bride to be?’

You sighed contentedly, leaning into his hand, eyes closed. ‘I am, but I have just one question.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Where are we going to put all the little knickknacks you’ve bought me from around the world? I’m pretty sure they’ll look out of place at Li Manor.’

‘We can put them in the baby’s room.’ He leant forward and stole another kiss. ‘As a tribute to our love story.’

#mlqc #MLQC Victor #fluff #oneshot #don't put tiny toys where a baby can reach them!

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Library #1 (12/31/2020)

Click here if you’re like “what the heck is this about?”

Alastor a.k.a. Rhedd @sackreligion hangs out in the library, and invites Alastor a.k.a. The Engineer @it-only-hurts-when-i-smile over to the party. (They also teleported a chunk of kitchen into the library. Radio Demons are a menace to your home.)

Rhedd

You know, this place probably shouldn't be quite so *messy.* Under usual circumstances, it was probably kept rather spotless!

But Rhedd was here and that meant he couldn't keep things spotless. He was rummaging, rummaging around for stuff to play with, to eat, and to generally occupy his time.

And as he did, he was singing *It's All Over But the Crying* by The Ink Spots to himself, occasionally caressing the microphone hooked to his hoodie with a finger. A wire was attached to the mic, and it seemed to slither into his shirt at the collar. His satchel bag still hung from his shoulder, and the radio inside joined in on the singing of the chorus.

Engineer

The microphone chuckled, an ominous upward-ascending click. It was sudden, jarring; up until now the thing had been dark and silent but for the occasional whistle of feedback, as though it had been placed in a desert to catch nothing but the sound of wind. It hadn't been clear if the connection was even viable, but it was obvious now that the Presence was Here.

Red light blasted through the teardrop-shaped vents encircling the carbon center, illuminating the contents of a cabinet that sat slightly ajar. The laugh replayed itself, but backward, and then the smooth voice with its cultivated accent harmonized in triplicate.

"ᴘᴏᴏʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ..."

Rhedd

Oohh-HO! Look at THAT cabinet! Rhedd's ears lift up--his expression was indiscernible, as he was wearing that paper bag over it, but when his ears moved, the tag jingled.

Because he forgot to take off the bell! Or maybe he liked the sound. Who could tell with Rhedd.

He throws open the cabinet, grabbing a can of beans, and he starts looking around for an opener.

"BEANS and RICE--OH, that's not how THAT number goes!"

Engineer

The lights converged into a single beam to make it easier to read the labels, and a chime vibrated from the mic to mimic the bell's jingle.

"ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇᴀɴꜱ... ᴘʟᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴꜱ ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟʟ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜʏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ 'ᴇᴍ ꜱᴄᴀᴛᴍᴇɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ! ʜᴀ ʜᴀ ʜᴀ ʜᴀ ʜᴀ--"

The grating laugh rang off the ceiling tiles and converged into a sibilant crackle.

Rhedd

"OHHH HO HO HO!" Rhedd joined in on the cackling, pulling books off of shelves, opening them up until he pulled a can opener from one of the larger glossaries.

"Why, THAT dirty joke simply REEKS!"

Engineer

The searchlight aimed itself at something metallic that glinted for a few seconds, a *pile* of somethings, before it trucked away quickly as though it had thought better of drawing attention to what it had illuminated. The the thudding snicker from the voicebox shifted, and then it was Rhedd's own laugh exiting the thing for a few seconds before it dropped an octave or two lower again.

"ʜᴇʜ ʜᴇʜ, ꜱᴏ ꜰᴏᴜʟ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴅᴀᴛᴏʀꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴜꜱɪɴ' ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ--ᴏɴʟʏ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴᴡɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ--ꜱᴀʏ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀɴʏ ʟɪᴍʙᴜʀɢᴇʀ--"The searchlight aimed itself at something metallic that glinted for a few seconds, a *pile* of somethings, before it trucked away quickly as though it had thought better of drawing attention to what it had illuminated. The the thudding snicker from the voicebox shifted, and then it was Rhedd's own laugh exiting the thing for a few seconds before it dropped an octave or two lower again.

Rhedd

*GLINTING HAS BEEN NOTICED,* Rhedd literally drops everything (his shadow catches both the can of beans and the opener), and he YANKS open the drawer.

8) knifes.

Engineer

The clatter echoes down the hall. A laugh track marred by an effect that's the aural equivalent of thick liquid dripping downward issues from the two-way speaker. It turns to dismayed screams, and the next sound is a real laugh again.

A quick mental image pops into Rhedd's head. It's a decaying metal carnival feature; the front of a little monorail trolley in the form of a massive clown's face with blacked eyes, rust-streaked cheeks, overgrown and surrounded by grass. It blips away as quickly as it came.

"ʜᴀʜ! ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴜʟᴛ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ--"

Rhedd

Oh-- he was in the middle of pilfering the knives when he'd been given SUCH A SIGHT! Radio dials behind the bag, Rhedd begins juggling the blades.

"Always PRUDENT to keep the mind SHARP! HAHA! *Knife* night for it!!"

<<Why, these jokes were BLADE for you!>>

Engineer

The little microphone *thumped* with vibration. Oh, it had never done *that* before. It buzzed against Rhedd's collarbone and radiated down his chest, and he felt the words in his head, a special delivery sent straight through his skeleton.

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴋɪʟʟ! ᴏʜ ɪ ꜱᴡᴏᴏɴ, ᴏʜ ɪ'ᴅ *ᴋɪʟʟ*--ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴇɴᴄᴇ;

ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ, ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ AREN'T ᴄᴀʀᴇꜰᴜʟ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ... ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀʀᴇ, ʜᴇʜ--

ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ *ɢʟᴀᴅɪᴜꜱ* ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴏʀᴄᴜᴘɪɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ *ꜱᴛᴀʙ* ᴛᴏ *ᴄᴜᴛ* ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ, ᴏʀ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛʏ *ꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ!* ʜᴀ *ʜᴀʜ*!"

Rhedd

Oh-- *oh.* OH! The *buzz* was mind numbing, and quite effectively so. Rhedd's shadow catches the blades as he just drops them altogether, his fixed grin hidden under the bag but the dials have swapped back to his regular eyes. Right, right, always gets a little too manic on an empty stomach.

The blades are returned to the proper drawer, though his ears have *drooped* considerably........... Goodbye..................

"Why, YES, my dear, too true.... You are RIGHT, I should cut it out, I always get a bit STABBY before DINNER! HAHA!......" :(

Engineer

The concentrated red light follows the little slender hands while they put the cutlery away, and then the light disperses a bit so it's softer. It feels like something is dripping from the ceiling onto Rhedd's head, but there's nothing up there.

The light's gone, suddenly. All of it. There's a flash of a single bulb overhead, buzzing, and the backdrop to the room is changed. There's ice everywhere; the swinging illumination glances off the stained interior of a meat locker hung with gently swaying wrapped bundles of a *particular* shape.

One of them shudders and breaks from clear plastic; unfurls into a familiar form in a red suit, red hair dripping redder and sticking to its face, and the hollow-eyed figure with the spidery hands drops to all fours and clicks just close enough to reach out, stretch the terrible spindly fingers, *nearly* touch Rhedd's little face before it's gone in a detuned crackle of voices.

The lights are off and then on again. The backdrop glitches away, the surroundings still consistent with the palace, the search for food, and the dear lad's silly rummaging. The drawer is now closed. It was just a dream, just a little high-frequency tickle to the posterior cortical hot zone, but Rhedd can still see his breath for a second.

The "laugh track" chortles warmly from the speaker again, and the teardrop-shaped red lights dance on the wall.

"ɴᴏᴡ, ɴᴏᴡ, ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ *ʟɪᴋᴇ* ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪɴɢ, ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴅᴀɢᴇꜱ... ᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ... ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏ ꜰʟᴀᴛ ᴛɪʀᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴅᴇꜰʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴀʏ, ʜᴀʜ!

ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴɪᴄᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴘʟᴀɪɴ ʙᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜱᴀɪʟᴏʀ? ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙʀɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴘᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄʀᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ, ʜᴀʜ, ᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏꜱᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅᴇᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴛᴄʜᴇɴ--

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ--ᴘᴇᴄᴜʟɪᴀʀ--ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴜʀᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ-ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ɪɴᴠɪᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱʜɪɴᴅɪɢ? ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ *ɪᴍᴘᴏꜱᴇ*, ʜᴀ ʜᴀ ʜᴀ ..."

Rhedd

Oh what a sight-- a sight that might drive anyone *else* to madness. Tears run down Rhedd's cheeks--this always happened when he experienced any of hallucinations gifted to him by The Engineer. His way of his mind decompressing after being so wonderfully overloaded by the display. Not afraid, but oh so feeling of every sensation within him after such a vision. His breath still cold to the room that was now not cold at all, Rhedd's hand moved to his throat which he stroked absently.

Just a dream. None of that happened--none of the juggling, none of the ice. He turns on a heel...ie, and hums as he begins scooting across the floor, "I was THINKING of something more FLESHY! MEATY, you KNOW! I had the most PECULIAR DREAM, just now, MY! DEAR! And OH! How HUNGRY I am just THINKING ABOUT IT!" He draws the shape of hanging carcasses in a butcher's freezer, "Something to SINK my TEETH! INTO! Beans are MERELY an APPETIZER!"

At the notion that Engi wouldn't be naturally invited, Rhedd pulled the mic from his lapel just so, the cable straining just a touch, cradling it in both hands. "WhatEVER do you MEAN? Why, you're with ME! My PLUS ONE! If you want to COME OUT, why, NO CLOSET could ever HOLD YOU! HAHA!"

Engineer

The mic buzzed softly, and the back of it slowly began to warm. It was a little metal disc that was smooth on the other side, and it felt nice in Rhedd's palms, both for warmth and heft.

The red lights dragged their little teardrops down Rhedd's sack-face in a display that would have been lost on the recipient if this were anyone else, but The Engineer provided a point-of-view vision of it, a gentle nudge to that hypersensitive mind's eye. The laugh that blasted from the mic produced a quick burst of air that made the bag crackle, and Rhedd's nose nearly poked a hole in the paper.

"ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴇᴠᴏᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ, ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴜɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪɴɢꜱ--

ᴀʜ, ʜᴍ, ʜᴀ ʜᴀ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴇ, ᴏʜ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ! ʜᴍᴍ, ʜᴇʜ-ʜᴀʜ, ʏᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ--ᴍʏ ᴇᴛɪQᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇ'ꜱ ᴇʀᴏᴅᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴛ, ʜᴀʜ! ᴏʜ, ᴍʏ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇɴɢᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ᴘɪʟᴏᴛ, ʜᴀ! ʜᴍᴍ... ᴡᴇ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ɪᴛ'ᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ--

ɪ'ʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ, ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇ-ᴄɪꜱᴇ-ʟʏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ--"

A curl of fragrant red vapor like burning autumn leaves rose from the carbon interior of the little microphone and burst into the shape of a blocky flower, which disintegrated tidily into fluttering pixels, and then it was cold and silent, but there was still a little pinpoint dot of red light deep inside the thing. Of course... he would never be *completely* gone.

It was like some infernal game of hide and seek... where would he materialize, and what would happen when Rhedd found him? *Or when he found Rhedd...*

Rhedd

How OMINOUS! Rhedd beamed behind the crinkled bag, enjoying the excited voice of his cosmic boyf.

Well! Then! Hide and seek was it? The canideer replaced the mic on his lapel, pulled the bag from his head (in order to fold it into his pocket) and touched his palms to the floor.

Sniff, sniff. Radio dial eyes barely hidden behind shutter shades, he stands back mostly upright and begins sliding out into another corridor, a horrible ***shunk*** of a sound as the piece of the kitchen he'd teleported in... Relocated itself.

#extermination party palace #sackreligion #itonlyhurtswhenismile #chat log #((‘hey you posted this a day late’ listen it’s not past midnight in some time zones))

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redcameleon · 5 years ago

Text

SSM 2020 Day 18

Prompt: Curses

Summary: Every time Sakura had gone to a blind date, she always got stood up, as if she was cursed to never find the right one. But things might just turn around when she met a certain man.

Rating: K+. some curse words.

A/N: Rewrote this day’s prompt because the story I had written didn’t really feel right with the prompt.

Today will be different! I’m sure of it.

Sakura thought to herself as she arrived at the restaurant. The waitress escorted her to a table for two before pouring her a glass of water.

“I’ll order later. I’m still waiting for someone.” The waitress nodded and left to attend to a nearby table.

It was the fifth blind date she’d ever gone to, and she’s hoping, praying, that it won’t end the same way the other four did.

Fifteen minutes passed, and she’s trying her best to not be pessimistic. It’s only been fifteen minutes since their arranged meeting time.

Thirty minutes passed, and the hope of this guy actually showing up was starting to dwindle.

An hour and a half passed. By then, the waitress had swung by her table five times, and soon enough, she would have to be kicked out for just sitting there without ordering anything.

“That’s it.” Sakura had had enough. She stood up and left a few bills to compensate for her time there before exiting the building.

“Stupid date.” She murmured to herself. The night air seemed colder than usual, or was it perhaps because of her sullen mood? She couldn’t tell. She walked pass a bar, and convinced herself she deserved a drink or two. Oh what the heck. Tomorrow’s Sunday anyway.

She walked in and sat herself on one of the stools by the bar, a glass of martini accompanied her. She kept staring at the glass, tracing her finger around the rim.

“Rough night?” The bartender commented. Sakura could guess that her face gave it all away.

“Sort of. Got stood up on a date.”

“Ouch, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s only the fifth time it’s ever happened to me. No big deal. I’m probably cursed at this point and I’ll never find anyone.” The blonde bartender could tell she would need more than a glass to feel better tonight.

“You know what, this one’s on me.” He placed a glass in front of her. The color looked peachy red, but she couldn’t exactly tell what’s inside.

“What is this? Are you trying to take advantage of my wallows?”

“Oh no no, don’t worry this is my special concoction. I call it the break up make up. I put in some cherries, mango, lemon, and vodka. And don’t worry I’m not trying to drug you.” Sakura chuckled at his comment. She figured if this was supposed to make her feel better, then there’s no harm in trying.

She took the glass and tried a sip.

“Hm, not bad. I like the lemon you added in there.” The bartender smiled when he saw that her mood had lightened up a bit.

“The name’s Naruto, by the way.”

“Sakura. Nice to meet you.” Sakura couldn’t keep track of how long she was there, conversing with Naruto. But she didn't stop at her second glass. She kept ordering more, hoping that the bitter drink would get rid of the bitterness in her heart. Naruto was starting to get worried by the time she had her fifth glass.

“Hey, you should probably take it easy with the alcohol.”

“What do you mean?” Her words were starting to come out a bit more slurred. She’s definitely drunk. Naruto thought.

“Okay that’s enough, I’m not giving you anymore drinks.” Naruto took away the glass in her hand and threw away whatever’s left in there.

“Aww but I was just getting started!” Sakura was beginning to throw a tiny fit. Working at a bar, Naruto had seen countless number of people getting drunk, and doing stupid things they would regret.

“Do you have friends you can call to pick you up?”

“Hm? Friends? Sure.” She took out her phone and dialed her best friend Ino. The tone kept ringing for a while, but no one was picking up. To be fair, it was three in the morning.

“Tch. No answer.” Shit. Defeated, Sakura plopped on the table. Just when Naruto was starting to run out of ideas, his best friend decided walked into the bar. Naruto spotted him right away and started waving at him.

“Ah Sasuke! Right on time! I need your help!” Sasuke approached the bar and gave him a confused look.

“Help me get her home safely.” Naruto pointed at Sakura, who’s moments away from blacking out.

“What? Why should I?” To be fair, this was a complete stranger, who was drunk, and Naruto wanted him to ensure she gets back home safely? He probably didn’t even know where she lived.

“She just had a rough night and drank too much. I’m worried for her. Please.” Naruto pleaded. Of course, Naruto being the saint that he was, he wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.

Sasuke didn’t exactly have the best night, either. He kept staring at Naruto, trying to win this staring contest that he knew eventually he would lose to.

“Please? I’ll buy you dinner next time.”

“Tch fine.” Sasuke tried waking Sakura up, to see how much she could actually function.

“Who is it? Are you my date?” Sasuke got flustered hearing her question. He eyed Naruto with a look equal to, what the fuck is she saying?

“Oh she just got stood up on her date tonight.” Sasuke didn’t even want the details. He tried shaking her again.

“Here let me take you home. Where do you live?”

“Go away! I don’t want to see anybody!” She buried her face deeper in her arms. Sasuke sighed. They’re not going anywhere at this point, and it’s almost closing time. It seemed that she was too drunk to even comprehend his question. At this point, he was starting to lose his patience.

“Fuck this.” He swung her arm around his shoulder, and guided her outside. She staggered a bit before he was able to properly prop her.

He couldn’t leave her on the streets like this, but he didn’t even know where she lived. Without a destination, there was only one option for him.

He swung his arms, calling for a taxi to come pick them up. When a vehicle arrived, he opened the door, gently helped Sakura sit on one side, and closed the door before getting in the taxi from the other end. He instructed the driver and they were on their way.

The drive home wasn’t terrible. Sakura had calmed down a lot, and was no longer flailing or saying incoherent words. Thank God.

The taxi pulled up in front of a tall apartment building not far from the bar. Sasuke helped Sakura get out of the car and up a flight of stairs and up the elevator to the tenth floor. He struggled to get his keys out from his pocket as his other hand was preoccupied trying to keep Sakura upright. He finally managed to open the door and plopped Sakura on the bed.

Sasuke was at a lost as to the kind of trouble Naruto had put him into. The night hadn’t been perfect for him either, he just found out that his brother had been admitted to the hospital, and now to add into his troubles, there’s a girl who’s completely out of it, sprawled on his bed.

He did what any decent person would do, he took of her shoes, positioned her head comfortably on the pillow, and covered her with a blanket. He set a glass of water on the bedside table before closing the bedroom door behind him. He’s had a long night, and frankly, he’s ready to fall asleep anywhere.

He plopped himself on the couch and decided to get some shut eyes. Tomorrow would surely be interesting.

Sakura slowly peered her eyes open. Sunlight was trickling in from the blinds. Sakura stretched a bit, mind still blurry as to what happened the night before. The last thing she remembered was seeing a handsome dark-haired man standing over her. She tried to take in her surroundings before she realized, this is not her own place.

She jumped from the bed and took the covers off. All clothed. She looked around the room but failed to find any identity as to who this room belonged to. She could see a desk with some books spread on it, no photo frames, no posters. The room could easily be one of those rooms displayed in furniture stores. She saw a glass of water with a note next to it,

Drink. No poison.

She chuckled a bit. I guess she should trust whoever this person was, after all they brought her here safely. She took a few sips before downing the whole glass, her throat seemed awfully dry and hoarse. She felt like her head was about to be split in half as the hangover started to kick in. She tried to stand up and stuck her ear to the door, trying to hear any evidence of life outside the room. She heard some metal clanging and assumed that whoever this person was must be awake.

She slowly opened the door and peeked through the tiny slit. The man was standing in front of the stove, cooking something. Sakura could feel her stomach growl when the smell reached her nostrils. She debated whether she wanted to greet this stranger and thank him, or she should just bail out of there as quick as possible. She found her purse on the bedside table and grabbed it before gently opening the door just wide enough for her body to squeeze through. She thought the sizzling sound should be enough to conceal her noises. Tiptoeing ever so slightly, she headed towards the entrance.

After just a few steps, the man spoke, “You’re awake.” Sakura froze in place and when she didn’t say anything else, he turned to look at her.

She was a bit surprised to see that the man standing in front of her was indeed the man she last saw that evening.

“Wait, you were at the bar last night!” Waking up in a stranger’s apartment and that’s the first words she said.

“Hn. Have a seat.” He motioned her to sit on the dining table. She thought her plan to escape had been compromised. At least, she could take his offer and put some food into her system. She just realized the last time she had eaten anything was before she went out to go on the blind date, which was a bad idea after all.

She set aside her purse on a chair before taking a seat at the dining table. She could see he’d two sets of utensils and two glasses of water. He placed a bottle of Tylenol next to her glass. He knew all that drinking would result in a dreadful hangover.

“Thanks.” She opened the bottle and popped a pill or two into her mouth. I should really stop drinking. She thought to herself. The man brought a bowl of soup and placed it in front of her, then proceeded to put some eggs and sausages on to his plate.

“Umm about last night.” Sakura didn’t even know where to start. She didn’t know if she should apologize first or thank him. She settled for the apology first.

“I’m so sorry I got you into this. I had too much to drink and I didn’t really have no one with me at that time. I’m so sorry I’ll make it up to you!”

“Hn. Just eat.” He started digging into his food. He barely spared a glance at her. She figured, he must be annoyed at her.

“Thank you. For keeping me safe.” She tried the soup and it was honestly the best thing she’d had since last night. They focused on their own meals, eating in silence, mostly out of courtesy for Sakura. She had a million questions. Who is he? Why did he bring me here? What does he want?

After they finished eating, he grabbed her bowl and his plate and placed them in the sink.

“Naruto told me to take you home, but I didn’t know where you lived, and you were too drunk to tell me.” He finally managed to explain to her.

“Oh..” She slapped herself mentally. Stupid Sakura, you should know better than to drink that much by yourself!

She glanced at the clock. 11AM. Oh shit! She was late to a breakfast appointment with Ino she had completely forgotten about.

“How do I make it up to you?”

“It’s fine.”

“No please, let me.” She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen laying around and started writing down her phone number.

“I’m sorry I can’t stick around, but here’s my number. I promise I’ll make it up to you! I hope I’ll see you again.” I don’t,Sasuke thought. One encounter was enough for him.

She grabbed her purse and hurriedly put on her shoes.

“I’m Sakura, by the way.”

“Sasuke.” He thought she deserved to know the name of the person who saved her.

“Thank you, Sasuke.” She opened the apartment door and left, leaving a click sound when the door shut behind her.

Fate had a funny way of thinking, and little did they know, their little encounter was only the beginning.

to be continued?

*A/N: I’m thinking of turning this into a multichaptered story. Let me know what you guys think! Feedback is always welcome.

#ssff #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #sasuke #sakura #otp #redcameleon!writes #ssm20 #ssm20d18

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max-is-tired · 5 years ago

Text

Pull you in (’cause you don’t judge me)

Pairings: established Themus, brotherly Intrulogical, established Roceit (mentioned), pining Analogical (mentioned)

Characters: Remus Sanders, character Thomas, Logan Sanders, the others are mentioned

Words: 2.130

Warnings: swearing, rude consumer, feeling insecure

Notes: man writing this just made me fall completely in love with the pairing jksdcnsj @figurative-siren-song back at it again making me fall for new ships. anyway I might,,, write an Analogical companion piece to this because I love them, so look out for that one I guess? I hope you guys like it!!

Commission me!! Buy me a coffee!! Join my Discord server!! AO3!!

Remus had been very excited about his weekly trip to the bookstore. Usually, he went there to wander around the different sections and bother Logan, or to help around the store when they happened to be understaffed -he may enjoy wreaking havoc and making his oldest brother lose whatever braincell he’d managed to keep, but if Logan called for his help then his help he was going to get.

Besides, Remus loved the bookstore. It was small, modest, almost hidden between the tall, imposing buildings that surrounded it. But for those who were familiar with the store, it was often described as a little slice of peace from the bustling chaos of the city. Most of its consumers were regulars that Logan had managed to collect throughout the years, people who just wanted a break from the frenzy of everyday life and enjoy a good book and maybe a few pastries in the silence the place provided.

In hindsight, connecting the shop to the neighboring bakery had been quite the good call for Logan to make, even if Remus knew very well the snarky, take-no-shit server had played his part in the decision -Logan may be a lot of things, but subtle was not one of them. The twins had had a bet going on for years about who of the two would break and kiss the other senseless first, so now it was only a matter of waiting.

Point was! Remus always enjoyed his weekly trips to Logan’s bookstore, loved stepping into the shop and lose himself into the words dancing under his eyes. Today, however, he was even more excited than usual, because the new book from his favorite horror had finally come out and Logan had called him just a few hours before to confirm they’d received the books to sell.

So yeah, Remus had been vibrating in excitement the entire morning, drawing a fond smile out of his boyfriend as Thomas pointedly moved the coffee pot as far away from him as he could.

And now there he was, pushing the door open as he skipped inside the bookstore with the biggest grin on his face. Logan smiled back at him from the counter, checking out one of the clients as his brother approached.

“So? Where is it??” Remus asked, leaning forward over the counter and wiggling his mustache.

“Why, salutations to you as well, Remus,” Logan answered, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation as he gently pushed his brother back towards the other side of the counter, “I am well, thank you for asking.”

“Come ooooon! You know I hate small talk, and you’re keeping me from my one true love, some good horror shit!”

“Someone should inform Thomas of that, then,” Logan shot back, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he gestured towards the inside of the bookstore. “Your book is in the ‘new releases’ section’, just behind that shelf. You can’t miss it, I assure you.”

Remus let out an excited squeal, shooting a quick thank you to his brother before rushing towards the indicated area. And sure enough, there it was, in all of its glory -cover as black as Thomas’ coffee in the mornings, with small, almost invisible green details around the title and the ominous figure decorating it.

Oh, Remus was already in love.

Without missing a beat, Remus bolted forward, grabbing one of the volumes displayed. He stared at it for a few moments, admiring the way the green details shone under the artificial light of the shop, before turning the book around to read the synopsis. And oh, did he like what he was reading -this book was prefacing itself to be a goodie, and Remus simply could not wait to get home and get started on his reading.

Excited as he was, however, he had failed to notice the woman staring disdainfully at him from the other side of the aisle, holding a child close to herself as she glared daggers at the grinning man. Once it was clear Remus wasn’t going to notice her glare though, she decided to switch to more… noisy ways of making her opinion known.

“I will never understand how people enjoy that kind of crap,” she commented rather loudly, her words easily reaching Remus’ ears. Confused, the man looked up, finally noticing the lady staring at him.

“It’s gross and messed up,” she kept talking, not even hiding the way she was directing her comments to the book Remus was holding so dearly.

The boy at her side tugged at his mom’s pants, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Why, mom? That cover is so pretty, it shines green!”

The woman -Karen, Remus mentally decided to call her as he held the book close to his chest- scowled, holding the kid just a little bit tighter.

“Because those books are written by deranged people, and only someone just as deranged could ever enjoy them.”

Remus couldn’t quite hide his wince at those words, holding the book in his hands just a little bit tighter. Usually, those kinds of comments didn’t bother him much, but he’d been so excited about the new release that hearing someone bash it to the ground like that felt pretty much like someone stomping repeatedly on his heart before throwing it at his face.

Thankfully, it seemed like he at least wouldn’t have to deal with that woman much more.

“If that really is your opinion, then I am afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave the store and never come back,” came Logan’s cool voice from behind them, making everyone turn around to look at him.

“Excuse me?!” the woman exclaimed, looking downright scandalized.

“What, are you going to kick me out only because I’m not afraid to say the truth? I want to talk to your manager right now!”

Logan simply arched an eyebrow, looking absolutely unfazed. “I am the manager and the owner of this establishment, Karen, so I am afraid you’re out of luck here.”

“It’s Jennifer, young man, and I don’t appreciate the tone you’re using right now! If this is how you treat your consumers, then I promise you I’ll never come back here again!”

“Jennifer, Karen, same thing,” Logan shot back, “and thank the stars for that, I wouldn’t want the likes of you in my store anyway. Now, please leave the premises immediately before I decide to escort you out myself.”

And off Karen went, huffing the whole way as her son did his best to follow along. Logan let out a sigh, immediately turning around to focus on his brother.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, tone strangely soft as he laid a hand on his shoulder. Remus took in a shuddering breath, managing to give Logan a small smile.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he answered, choosing to ignore the sudden churning of his stomach and the heavy weight he could feel pressing on his chest.

“I will always worry about you, you moron,” Logan said. “You should go home, I think being with Thomas would be very beneficial for your mood. We’re still on for that dinner tomorrow, yes? I believe Roman is bringing over that Janus boy he’s been seeing, so you can bring your boyfriend too, if you so wish.”

“We’ll be there, you whale penis,” Remus confirmed, his smile turning a little more genuine. “And what about you, bringing anyone to the dinner? Maybe a certain emo cutie from Pat’s bakery?”

The younger did not miss the way Logan’s cheeks had immediately turned a shade darker at his words, nor the way he was not pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“I believe that is none of your concern, Remus,” Logan said, coughing into his elbow to clear his throat. “Now go to your boyfriend, and bring that book with you.”

“I still need to pay you, Specs,” Remus pointed out.

“You can pay me whenever,” Logan waved him off, adjusting his glasses up his nose. “It’s not like we don’t see each other on a regular basis.”

“Alright, alright,” Remus conceded a small laugh escaping his lips. “You made your point, I’m going. Thank you, Lo.”

Logan smiled at his brother, patting him on the shoulder. “Of course, Remus, anytime.”

+++

When Remus had skipped his way out of the front door that afternoon, Thomas had been very much aware he might as well not see his boyfriend again before dinner -knowing Remus, he’d let himself linger in the bookstore even longer, but Logan was very precise when it came to closing hours and was very much not above dragging his brother out of the store against his will.

The dude may be scrawny as heck, but after dealing with the twins’ bullshit his whole life he was far too used to these kinds of things.

Point was, Thomas had decided to use the afternoon to his advantage and clean up the flat a little, from sweeping the floor to cleaning the dishes and throwing out the trash. He’d felt strangely productive, so he’d decided to make the most of it.

He had just settled himself on the couch with a good cup of tea and a book when he heard the front door open again, his eyes moving automatically to the clock hanging from the wall of the living room.

Huh, it was still relatively early. Thomas frowned, listening as Remus shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes -had something happened back at the bookstore?

All it took was for Thomas to see Remus’ expression when he finally entered the room and yup, something was definitely wrong there.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he stood to greet his boyfriend with a hug. “You okay, big guy?”

“I am now,” Remus answered, sagging completely into Thomas’ embrace and nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

Thomas simply hummed, letting himself enjoy the contact for a few seconds before guiding them both back to the couch. Carefully, they sat down, never quite breaking out of the hug as Remus ended up sprawled on top of his boyfriend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thomas asked, raising a hand to gently card his fingers through Remus’ hair.

Remus’ answered with a sigh, basically melting as his boyfriend gently scratched at his scalp -he reminded Thomas of a cat. A feral, chaotic cat who also happened to be cuddly as heck.

“Just the classic Karen bitch talking shit about books that don’t conform to her idea of proper,” Remus finally grumbled, not even bothering to raise his head out of where it was pressed into Thomas’ neck.

“Ah,” Thomas said, visibly wincing -he knew exactly what type of person Remus was talking about, and he also knew just how nasty their comments could be. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Rem. It sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Remus chuckled, humming as Thomas left a kiss on the side of his head. “I got my book though, so I’m counting that as a win. Also, Logan invited both of us to dinner tonight, so there’s that.”

“Good to know,” Thomas chuckled, mulling something in his head for a few seconds before speaking again. “Would you read that book to me? Like, out loud?”

Remus stilled, pushing back a little to look at Thomas with a confused frown. “It’s a horror novel.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that,” Thomas nodded, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

“You hate horror, it makes you anxious,” Remus pressed on.

Thomas hummed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“That’s true, yeah,” he finally conceded, “but it’s a book, so it probably won’t be as bad as a horror movie or show. And besides, you’ve been really excited about this, and I want to share some of that excitement with you.”

Remus looked down at him for a few seconds, looking almost surprised, before a small, soft smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re a sap,” he chuckled, leaning down to steal a kiss, “but you’re my sap, so I’m not complaining. Promise you’ll tell me the moment you feel uncomfortable with the story?”

Thomas nodded, pushing his head up a little to steal another kiss. “I will, I swear.”

It still took them a while to get to the book, spending quite a few minutes exchanging small kisses and a few ushed laughs. At some point though, Remus did reach for the tome he had left lying on the coffee table, settling himself comfortably onto Thomas’ chest as he opened it to the first page.

“There was something utterly terrifying about ghost towns.”

Thomas let out a relaxed sigh, letting Remus’ voice wash over him. He really could get used to this.

#sanders sides #themus #remus sanders #character thomas #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Vulnerable

Batfamweek2020 Day 6 / Fluff / @official-batfam-week

Summary: Jason finds a little intruder in one of his safe houses. He tries to convince himself he doesn’t care until he finds out he really, really cares.

Yeah I know this is two days late. Listen, time is relative and the week isn’t over until I say it’s over. Also yes, the prompt is fluff and this seems to be mostly angst, but there’s cuddles at the end which is about as fluffy as you guys can get out of me.

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

When Jason entered his safe house, he honestly wasn’t expecting anything to be amiss or out of place, yet here he is, walking up to the run down apartment squished between some Chinese takeout shop and a weird voodoo shop just to see the front door slightly ajar.

On instant high alert, Jason grabs at the gun on his hip and considers digging out a domino mask to hide his identity. He’s in street clothes, a civilian if you will. He’s just gotten back from grocery shopping to fill up his various houses with a resupply of food storage. He’s not really in the mood to fight anyone, and for all he knows whoever is inside his safe house could just be a squatter.

Though, no typical squatter can bypass his security measures. Whoever is here is competent enough to discharge his surplus of alarms and boobytraps.

And besides, whoever went through the trouble of breaking and entering into his safe house wouldn’t be there for Red Hood. They’re here for Jason.

He slowly places his bags of canned goods and such onto the ground and pulls his gun out so it’s held out in front of him. He stalks towards the door and takes a calming breath, not wanting to think about who could possibly be in there but also thinking of the worst case scenario.

Maybe just a smart squatter. Could be the Joker. Maybe Bruce. Jason doesn’t if Bruce falls in the good or bad category, but Jason swears to god if he barges in there and it’s just that stupid bastard Jason will categorize him as the absolute worst and might just shoot the jerk-face anyway.

Jason kicks the door open hard enough to make it’s hinges squeal in protest. His gaze instantly locks on a figure sitting on his moth eaten sofa he placed in front of a display TV that he took from the local Walmart.

What? It was “broken” and they were going to throw it away even though he could easily fix it. No harm no foul.

The figure on his sofa looks up from a phone in their hands with a glare, and Jason lowers his gun with a scoff and returns the narrowed eyes with his own.

“What the heck are you doing here, tater-tot?” He demands.

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, Jason leans his head forward a little to see what the brat is doing on it and it looks to be... that Animal Crossing app. Huh. “It’s none of your business, Todd.”

Jason scoffs, putting his gun back in his holster. “This is my safe house, to which the door you left open. It’s every ounce of my business.”

“Fine,” Damian snarls, standing up abruptly and shoving his phone inside his jacket pocket. “I’ll leave then.”

Jason has to fight to not make any of his utter bafflement physical as he makes a grab for the kid’s arm before he can retreat through the door. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not leaving until I get a straight answer out of ya-“

Damian jerks his arm violently and Jason just manages to keep a grasp on him. “Unhand me, you imbecile!”

“Ah, nah,” Jason retorts, grabbing his other arm as Damian goes to throw a punch. Damian squirms and Jason fights off a sigh as he has to kneel down and hold the brat in an almost white knuckled grasp so he doesn’t escape. He really hopes no one steals his groceries while it’s just sitting out there ripe for the taking. “You broke into my house, you can leave and go throw a tantrum somewhere else after this, I could seriously care less, but if I have to tie you to a chair and play Justin Bieber until you talk I will.”

Damian shoots Jason a look of pure loathing before he glares at his shoes, no longer struggling but still looking like he’ll dart for the nearest exit the moment Jason lowers his guard. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have come here. Let me go.” A second. Then a small: “Please.”

“Okay,” Jason says, and if he didn’t have both his hands keeping Damian still, he would be rubbing the bridge of his nose. Where’s the golden boy when you need him? “Okay, something is clearly up with you. What’s up? Did Titus poo on your bed? Break an expensive pot? Accidentally kill someone-?”

“I don’t kill,” Damian snarls suddenly, and the ferocity of the statement has Jason blinking in shock. Damian is refusing to look up now, eyes blinking quicker than normal. “I don’t. Not anymore. I don’t.”

Jason narrows his eyes and gets down on his knees to become level with the little midget. “Kid. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Damian sniffs, uses his shoulders to rub at his eyes, and there’s a suspicious glint in his green irises that has Jason suddenly feel a rush of panic. Oh heck nah. This is Goldilocks’ problem. Jason should have just let the kid go. Yeah, he asked what was bothering him but the last thing he expected were tears. However, Damian looks just as shocked with himself as Jason is and quickly bites his lip.

“Can I stay the night?” Damian asks suddenly, throwing another red flag up in Jason’s mind. Whatever is going on, Damian doesn’t want to go home where his daddy-dearest and perfect oldest brother are probably waiting for him in a panic. He know’s Dickhead is in town. He posted a picture of Alfred the Cat on his Instagram just a few hours ago, saying it felt good to be home.

Jason is almost tempted to grab the brat and stuff him a duffel, lock the zippers with a cable tie and drop him at the front gates for Alfred to find, just so he doesn’t have to deal with this, but then he studies the kid for a moment, seeing a vulnerability in him that he can’t say he’s ever seen before. He sighs.

“Fine. Don’t explain. Go to the couch and play your cute game thing. I’ll be back.”

Damian gives him an unimpressed glare. “It’s not a cute game.”

“I know what Animal Crossing is, sweetie-pie,” Jason says back, ruffling the younger’s hair and biting back a chuckle that tries to escape his throat as Damian tries to whack at his hand. “It’s a cute game.”

Jason watches Damian retreat back to the sofa, but this time the brat puts in some earbuds and curls up between the arm and the back of the couch, bringing his knees to his chest and his hoodie over his head. Jason has to gather all his will power to not roll his eyes as he stands up and goes out to grab his—thankfully untouched—groceries.

He walks in and begins to take everything out of the bags. He watches Damian out of the corner of his eyes as he does so, but the brat doesn’t move. Just flicks his finger over the screen, perhaps trying to catch a fish or something. He doesn’t dwell on it though, thinking about the tears that had threatened to fall a moment ago. They could have been a trick, a way for Damian to get Jason off his back because it would undoubtedly make Jason too uncomfortable to push more, but at the same time he knows Damian is awful at fake crying. He has a lot of pride stuffed in that little body.

He shakes his head and begins to sort the cans for storage, leaving a few out for dinner he guesses. He was planning on just going to the Batburger—because the Chinese restaurant next door gave him a night in the bathroom to remember the last time he ate there—and grabbing something filled with carbs, but now that the little bat-brat is here that’s sort of thrown out the window. He’s still hungry though.

Lets see, he has a can of sloppy joe, some buns in the pantry that are hopefully not moldy yet, and some mixed vegetables. Easy.

He begins to pull out various pots and pans to begin the last second dinner. It doesn’t take long for the meat to start sizzling while the vegetables just barely begin to warm. He sets a pan lid over the meat and lets it simmer as he goes to grab the buns and some American cheese slices. He eyes Damian as he does so, noting how the kid hasn’t moved since Jason had told him he could stay.

Whatever. It’s not his problem. He’s not worried about the tyke at all...

When everything is finally heated and warm it suddenly occurs to him that Dick has mentioned here and there that Damian was actually vegetarian. Jason curses and opens the fridge, looking for anything that’s leafy and green. Thankfully, he manages to scrape together a sad amount of green lettuce and half a tomato. He sniffs a bottle of ranch and looks at it’s expiration date and wrinkles his nose. He’ll let Damian choose if he wants ranch or not. He grabs two plastic plates and places his own Joe with cheese down on one plate and scoops out a helping of corn, peas, and carrots while he makes a terribly depressed salad on the other. He sighs and adds double the helping of vegetables onto Damain’s plate. If only he had shredded cheese or croutons or even garbanzo beans...

He plops himself down next to the kid and clears his throat, placing Damian’s sad sad meal down on the coffee table with his bottle of devious ranch and then digs into his sloppy joe, grabbing a remote to turn on the TV to something probably boring and dumb.

He watches as Damian wrinkles his nose slightly at his meal, and Jason almost prepares himself to snap that he did his best, but Damian surprises him and takes the plate into his lap. He takes out his earbuds and clicks his phone off, shifting so he can see the TV better.

Thankfully Jason manages to find a channel that’s replaying Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire so the silence between the two of them isn’t as awkward as it could be. Damian picks at his browning salad and makes a move to communicate.

They watch the movie in silence, and Jason finds himself not being able to actually concentrate as his mind keeps wondering what could be up with Damian.

-o-o-o-o-

“Alrighty,” Jason says, clapping his hands together as the movie credits begin to roll. “Goodnight.”

Damian doesn’t say anything as Jason gets up and gathers the paper plates to throw them away. Jason is determined to just go to bed and not deal with any of this in the morning. Sure, he should go out as Hood and take down some gangs, but Damian doesn’t appear to have his costume—let alone a change of clothes—with him and there’s no way Jason is leaving him here alone.

He should just call Dick. Call him and he’d gladly drop everything he’s doing to take the kid away. However, he can’t help but feel a sense of unity when he notices Damain’s phone ding with a little text notification and Damian quickly sliding it away, not even reading it.

Besides, Jason said he could stay the night. What kind of person would he be if he couldn’t make good on his word? He’s an ex-killer not a complete jackass.

He retreats to his room, releasing a sigh and shutting the door. It’s a small house, nothing but a living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom. Damian will have to sleep on the couch because there’s no way Jason is letting him take his bed. He takes off his shirt and changes into a pair of looser fitting pants as he crawls into the rickety old bed that was discounted at IKEA because someone broke some pieces. The blankets he slips into are thin but many. Well, three. It’s decent enough, he can survive most cold nights with the warmth three thin, threadbare blankets could scrap up.

He closes his eyes, thinking about nothing other than sleep.

He wonders if he has a blanket out there for-

Woah wait. Hold up. Nooope. Go to bed Jason. Go to bed...

Sleep...

It’s a colder night and the living room gets colder than the bedroom...

But it’s warm in his blankets so he won’t worry about it... sleep... sleep sleep sleep...

He peeks his eye open and looks at his phone sitting on the mattress beside his head.

Not even fifteen minutes has passed. He growls and forces his eyes closed, curling his knees so they’re almost touching his chest. Did he lock the door? He’s pretty sure he locked the door. Though, if he didn’t that would mean someone could barge in and the first thing they’d see was a small kid in his day clothes shivering in the cold of the living room with no pillow.

No, he definitely locked the door. He definitely locked it just like how he definitely doesn’t care if a certain demon brat is crashing on his couch in day old clothes with no pillow or blanket.

He opens his eyes, looks at how only a minute has passed and silently curses to himself.

Shit.

He cares.

He throws the blankets off from his body and slips off the side of his bed to his feet. He looks around his room and grabs at one out of two pillows he was using and then tears off one out of three blankets and stomps towards his door, just to stop and growl as he turns around and finds the smallest shirt and sweats he could find.

He barges into the living room and Damian practically jumps from his curled up position on the couch. Jason ignores the subject of his lack of sleep as he goes to the door, grabs the handle, and giggles it to make sure it’s locked.

It’s locked.

He turns heel and Damian is watching him as if he’s grown a second head. Jason ignores the stare and dumps the pile of fabric in his arms onto the kid. Damian squawks but Jason ignores that and storms back to his room, trying to ignore the goosebumps on his arms and chest from the cold of the room and how he’s making a thirteen year old kid sleep out here and- NOPE! He’s not worried about it. He gave him a blanket and pillow and even some of his own clothes. Damian will survive and Jason will sleep.

He hits his pillow, trying not to mourn the girth he’s lost beneath his head because he’s too nice of a guy sometimes, and curls up in his two blankets, fighting off the threat of shivers from going out into the chilly air. He eventually warms up, just like actual sleep begins to lure him, and soon he’s not thinking about much of anything...

...

Was that a sniffle?

His eyes creek open against his will. Time has felt like it moved, and when he glares at his phone to see two hours has passed he curses the gods for making this night as difficult as possible. He’s about to close his eyes again when the something that woke him up that he had almost forgot about sounds again.

A sniff. From the other side of the door. It sounds wet, like it belongs to a runny nose and his eyebrows come together. Yeah it’s cold out in the living room but not that cold. He closes his eyes, blaming dramatics, when the sniffle sounds again, but with something else this time that has Jason practically jumping out of his bed like he’s been electrocuted.

A whimper. That was a whimper.

He creeps towards the door, something heavy in his gut, and places his ear on the thin wood.

He can hear it all clearly now. The sniffles, the tiny choked off whimpers of someone trying to not make too much noise, the panting breaths.

Crying. Someone’s crying on the other side of his door and it’s two in the morning and Jason is all of a sudden thinking about the ignored texts, the silent acceptance of not even sub-par food, the cute distracting animal game, the caught in the headlights look when Jason stormed out earlier, the almost desperate way he asked to crash the night here, the angry outburst the he’s not a killer.

Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t. This is Dick’s job. Not Jason. Jason is the family black sheep who people avoid unless they want something, and Jason avoids them right back. Dick is the big, caring, older brother while Jason is the distant outcast. Jason doesn’t care if Damian is in his living room crying. He really, truly, awfully, lyingly doesn’t care.

Shit.

He cares.

crying opens his door slowly and the sniffling and whimpering instantly cuts off. The door swings slowly open and Jason is left standing in his doorway watching as Damian wipes furiously at his eyes and glares at the opposite side of the room, curling up and biting his lower lip to perhaps stop it from trembling.

“What do you want, Todd,” Damian snarls, but his voice tremors and Jason has to fight down the panic threatening to escape his throat because he has no clue what to do. Here’s some kid who’s legally his youngest brother who’s swimming in his too big clothes with tear tracks down his cheeks and Jason cannot think of a single thing to do.

What would Dick do? Dick would smile and probably gather the kid up in a hug and say everything will be okay and other soppy comforting crap. Jason runs the scenario out in his head, imagines him trying to approach the kid with open arms to give him a hug. Strangely enough, while he can easily imagine Dick and Damian ending up cuddling or whatever, Jason can only see himself writhing on the floor with a knife between his ribs.

So, the Dick-protocol is out. Jason needs to do something else, and quick.

He grinds his jaw and forces himself to leave the safety of the room. Damian watches him warily as he slowly sits up and backs up to the corner of the sofa, furthest from where Jason is approaching from. Jason gives the kid a side eyed glance before he grabs at the remote and turns on the TV.

Jason isn’t the best with cuddles or comfort, but the least he can do is sit it out and let Damian decide what the next step is, even if Jason has to sit here shirtless in the chilly living room with the TV turned low on some Spanish soap channel for the rest of the night.

Somehow, Damian doesn’t fight that. He just wipes his eyes again, getting rid of most evidence of tear tracks, and then settles into his corner, stubbornly watching the TV.

Forty minutes into the soap marathon, right when someone is revealed to not be the father—gasp—something finally happens.

Damian speaks.

“Do you regret it?” Says a small voice in a whisper. Jason turns his head and he almost has to squint his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. Damian is valiantly avoiding his gaze, staring straight at the TV. His hands are nervously pulling at the strings of his borrowed sweatpants though, which is a sight Jason never thought he’d see.

“Regret what?” He questions.

Damian worries his lip for a second and something shiny swims in his eyes. Jason remains silent until Damian finally speaks. “Killing those people.”

Finally, Damian looks at Jason and he looks so vulnerable and scared and Jason is pretty sure this is all just some sort of fever dream because what the hell. His brain short circuits and restarts as he tries to gather his thoughts, but suddenly all his thoughts are nothing more than green anger as he hacks through the necks of drug dealers and stuffs heads in duffel bags. Thoughts lined with lividity as he shoots at rapists and murderers and gets blood splattered on his red mask. Thoughts of holding the Joker against his chest, pressing the point of his gun against the psychopaths temple and screaming a choice at Bruce.

The Joker, or him.

He absentmindedly reaches for the scar on his neck; it’s a unique one for the fact it’s not one that he gained in death nor in his autopsy. It’s thin and precise and did just enough damage for Jason to accidentally let go of the Joker and grab at the sharp batarang sticking out from his neck, blood already leaking through his fingers. Proof that Bruce would rather slice his neck than let a mindless murderer continue to breathe. A permanent reminder that Jason isn’t as important as some no-kill-rule. A warning he should never attempt something like that ever again.

He’s been doing better. He hasn’t killed anyone since... since forever. His bullets are not ones made to kill. His aims are not lethal. When he shoots he shoots because he has to, and he’s been forcing himself to use his fists first.

Does he regret it? Does he regret getting so angry and hurt and confused that he killed dozens of people just to get Black Mask angry so he could get to Joker and therefore Batman? Does he regret the blood on his hands? The hours clutching his chest in the shower after the first life he took, scrubbing at his skin so it’s red and raw, repeating over and over and over to himself that this will all be worth it. The days avoiding the freezer where he stored the severed heads until he had all of them because he was afraid he’d puke? The months convincing himself that beating his replacement senseless would be worth it?

Does he regret it?

He clutches the material of his pants with one hand and rubs the length of his scar with his other, taking a deep breath.

“No.”

Damian’s eyes widen slightly in shock, and Jason realizes he was expecting a different answer. He clears his throat, fights the urge to hug himself like he’s raw and vulnerable. An animal on display.

“I don’t regret killing those people. But if I was sent back in time and given the option to redo everything... I wouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t understand,” Damian says and Jason releases a bitter chuckle.

“I’m a different person now, and back then killing those people I felt was the only thing I could do. I used to... sit and wonder about what I could have done differently, what I could have changed, but I decided it isn’t worth it. I killed those people in cold blood, and if I regret it now then I won't be able to move on. So no, I don’t regret it.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence and Jason sighs. “Look, I enjoy talking about my past as much as the next guy, but why do you bring it up?“

Damian bites his lip again, and Jason almost worries that sooner or later he’s going to draw blood with his sharp canines, but Damian brings his legs to his chest and stars absentmindedly at the TV as some chick slaps another chick for whatever reason.

“I regret them,” Damian whispers, and Jason decides now would be a wise time to remain silent. “I killed people because my mother and grandfather said it was my birthright too. I was superior and they were worthless. I never... thought anything of it. Until now.” He takes a shaky breath and continues, rubbing his eye with his shoulder. “I promised Grayson I would never kill again, and I’ve always intended to keep that promise for myself if not for him. B-but father doesn’t trust me all the time and it’s hard t-to think that I’m ever going to live up to that promise when he’s constantly telling me how I could have slipped up or how I could have killed... killed somebody a-and it’s been three years since- and why doesn’t he trust me? Why does he always think I’m... I’m gonna...”

He breaks off into a painful sounding sob and Jason watches wide eyed, completely at a loss of what to do. He sits there and watches as Damian explains through sobs that someone died yesterday, a criminal he was chasing. The man accidentally slipped off the docks into the freezing, churning, unforgiving water of Gotham Bay and drowned before Robin could safely get down to him. Batman arrived just as Robin pulled his dead body back onto the docks. Batman tried to resuscitate him, but with no luck.

Robin was benched, blamed for his death, and Nightwing didn’t take his side.

Bruce said he could have reacted faster. Dick chose to try and stay in the middle but ended up just getting Bruce mad at both of them and Damian feeling betrayed.

It’s no wonder Damian ran out and was ignoring every text message sent his way. He feels like his whole world has turned against him. Jason is almost tempted to let the kid stay more than the night.

Somehow, Jason’s managed to scoot closer to the crying kid, and somehow, Damian’s ended up under his arms. Leaning against his chest, crying and letting the warm tears run down his cheeks and against Jason’s skin. It feels personal. It feels open. It feels secret and sacred.

Jason clutches the kid closer, and he doesn’t say a thing because he doesn’t know what to say quite yet.

He just holds him, then when Damian tires himself out and his eyes become puffy and half-lidded, Jason gathers him up and carries him to the bedroom, his arms too full to turn off the TV. Damian instantly curls up into his side as he lays them both down onto the bed, dragging the sheets.

People die on patrol, yet Bruce seems to be the hardest on them when it’s the criminals who die. Victims, choking on their own blood and crying, eyes going milky, but Bruce only sees the criminal that Jason aloud to get shot by their own partner, he only sees the thug Jason aloud to get stabbed through the gut when Joker got sick of them. It’s a whole, vile system Bruce has. When victims die, it’s no one’s fault, but when the bad guys die, they should have been strong enough and brave enough and fast enough to stop it.

Jason doesn’t think Bruce will ever trust Jason not to kill. He doesn’t think Bruce will ever trust Damian not to kill.

So the least Jason can do right now while Bruce seethes and Dick tries to mediate is hold Damian a little tighter as a promise that Jason is on his side instead of the people who are supposed to be.

He hopes it’s enough. Because it’s truly the least he can do.

#jason todd #damian wayne #red hood #robin #dc #dc comics #batman comics #fan fic #batfamweek2020 #jin writes

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