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scienceclubofficial · 25 days

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Chapter 3: Meet the Unos (1)

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(author's note: starting from this chapter I'm not doing the colored text anymore. I quickly ran out of colors for how many characters there are)

Two weeks had passed since Mari started going to the SCCA. She had decided to spend the weekend at her Parent's, as they had been blowing up her phone about visiting. When she got back, she was greeted by her mother as if she had been gone for a year already. The first person she decided to catch up with was her sister, Kettia. They gamed from morning till afternoon, only stopping when their mother had made a massive welcome home luncheon for Mari.

Completely full and dreading the idea of how big dinner will be, Mari and Kettia continued playing Smash Bros in Kettia's room.

"No no no no, FUCK" Kettia exclaimed as her main, Pyra & Mythra, were beaten by Mari's Villager in a glorious final smash. "How are you so good with Villager?! I play this game more than you, and Villager's terrible anyway!"

"Not hard to get your pattern when you were spamming the same move for both Pyra and Mythra"

"Whatever! Villager is still dog-water, and personally, I'm not taking this disrespect. I want a rematch!"

"Nah, I'm done for now"

"What?! Already! Fine, but we're rematching tomorrow." Kettia closes out of Smash. "So what you wanna play next? Wanna see my Stardew file? I've been doing really good this run. I also cheated on every dateable npc. Wanna see the cut scene I unlocked?"

"Nah, I think I'm done gaming for today"

"Ahh damn. Wanna watch an Anime then?"

"Why don't we just talk?"

"Kinda cringe"

"Whatever, just get up here on the bed"

Kettia got out of her hunkered sitting position on the floor, and laid at the head of the bed, while Mari stayed sat on the foot of the bed. "So what? You got any interesting stories from that stupid university Dad sent you to?"

"...Uhm, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Kettia, I'm hoping you can keep a secret"

"You dropped out and now you're a streetwalker moonlighting at sketchy bars"

"What?"

"You know, what mom said would happen if you didn't get your degree"

"No no, I didn't drop out, I just switched Universities"

"Big if true"

"It is"

"Welp, Dad's disowning you. At least I'm the favorite kid now"

"That's what I'm talking about, you can't tell Dad"

"You think he's not gonna find out?"

"Well so far he hasn't"

"Mari, the night you didn't come back Mom and Dad were ready to drive down to the school and interrogate their asses on where you went, and even if you do somehow see them enough that they won't try to barge into your school you're not going to, they still want to see you graduate from the school you're not going to. At some point they're gonna find out."

"Well I hope that when they find out, that they'll be satisfied by how good of a school it is"

"What school is it"

"SCCA, it stands for Sylvest-"

"I know what it stands for, and you're screwed. Buy your coffin now and will me your stuff, cause you're done"

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"All they've been able to talk about at the dinner table is the motherfucking SCCA"

"When did they become interested all of a sudden? And what complaints do they have about it?"

"Well, Mom is super freaking out about what that Vanny Kirk did"

"Van Niekirk"

"You shut the hell up, anyway. Dad was complaining about them a bit before that. First he was all like "Back in my day we had to actually pay for our tuitions, now these new age socialists are trying to ruin everything for the rest of us.""

"I can tell you right now, they definitely don't sound Socialist. Mr. Rand, my economics-"

"Me when I'm Mari and I won't let my sister finish her goddamn story"

"Alright alright, I'm just saying"

"Jesus. Anyway, Dad was also pretty disgusted by Vinny Kirk, but he usually just yaps about how they're "destroying the natural order of things," and, "my father didn't come to this country and work his back off just for these people to live off of our tax dollars," and so I try telling him, 'Dad, I don't think they use our tax dollars, they're, like, a private conglomenerate or something,' and he said, 'well that's what this is all leading to! First that E-sick Deeter gives a kid a free heart transplant, next thing you know the government has us all in their state owned communist factories!"

"Ok, for one, his name is pronounced Ishaq Didar"

"I'm still looking for whoever the fuck asked"

"Fine bitch, but that's an entire ass name you're fucking up"

"I don't care!"

"What, like nobody mispronounced your name reading it for the first time?"

"Hey, I have a cool ass name, those people just don't know how to read"

"Well anyway, back to what I was saying. Ishaq is a genius but he definitely does NOT know how to do a heart transplant"

"What, like you know him?"

"Yes, I do actually. I intern at his lab"

"Pics or it didn't happen"

"...I don't have any pictures"

"Me when I'm Mari and I just lie to my sister for no good reason"

"Why would I lie about this?!"

"To seem cooler I guess"

"Bitch, I don't need to impress you"

"What, next you're gonna tell me you know that other guy, Sexio Donnell"

"...Bitch, what?!"

****

Rose Uno looked out at the setting sun by the window sill, finishing up the dishes from lunch. She had a massive Roast cooking in the oven as she got ready to set up the dinner table. With her husband at work, and Kettia always out either at baseball practice or with friends during her free time, the house normally felt lonely, but she was glad to hear Mari and Kettia having fun again. She knew her daughter had to go to college for her career, but she was hoping Mari would be able to stay. Despite her protests when Mari announced she was moving out, it was Koshiro, her husband, that ultimately convinced her that this was for the better, for Mari to spread her wings and leave the nest. He commended her for it.

Rose snapped out of her mindless gazing when she heard her phone ringing. Looking at the caller ID, it was Koshiro. "Hi Honey, how's work?.....Oh, well you'll make it just in time for dinner then, the roast is gonna take a while. Sorry that bastard of a boss is keeping you there longer.....Yeah, Mari made it over safely, she and her sister are playing games and cussing around just like old times.....No, she hasn't said anything about school yet, you'll have to ask her that at the dinner table. But maybe wait a while on that, she probably doesn’t want to think about school for now.....I know, but she came here to relax with her family, and besides, we're probably the only ones she's got. You know she was never good at making friends.....Hey, don't blame me, I never saw you telling her to go outside much either.....EXACTLY!" There was a long pause on the phone after she said that "Well whatever, just tell her how you feel when you get here.....alright, love you."

****

"You're kind of a dumbass" Kettia said, slinking back after hearing Mari's story

"How so?"

"There were like so many red flags, the first time you should've booked it was after helping her find her dog, like, the girl is clearly a weirdo"

"She's not that weird, no weirder than me"

"My point exactly. If I met someone as weird as you in public I'd run the other way. You're lucky you have the excuse of being my sister, otherwise I'd never hang out with you"

Mari rolled her eyes "Yeah, I'm so lucky"

"Anyway, the next red flag was that Sexy O-"

"If you call him Sexy O'Donald one more time, I'm gonna hit you"

"Fine, the Don guy, whatever his name is. Like, if I saw his face grow literal spikes, I'd book i, I would've been the first one out the door"

"He has...very unique looking hives..."

"Yeah, anyway, and the third red flag would've been when that guy, I-" Mari glared at Kettia "...Ishaq" Mari stopped glaring "Yeah, Ishaq. Anyway, if that guy made me touch his eyeballs, they would've been black eyes after that is all I'm saying"

"Yeah, I really did feel ready to leave after that, but I felt bad for how sad Alicia was"

"I still don't get how my sister of all people was able to make a friend in a day"

"What, like I don't know how?"

"No! You don't! Whenever I tried to introduce you to my friends, you never even made an effort"

"Well your friends were weird"

"My friends were weird?! Bitch, you were the queen of the weird kids table. You're lucky you even got to meet my friends"

"Well whatever, I still had some friends"

"Barely, your friendships never made any sense. What was that one girl you brought over back in Freshman year? You said she was your best friend, but you guys never talked once in the entire time she was here"

"...I...I have a different way of communicating with friends"

"What, telepathically?"

"Shut up"

"Well whatever, it still makes no sense that you somehow made a friend in a day"

"Well, she wasn't my friend at first, I would just call her someone who was willing to help, but I'd definitely call her a friend now, after all we've been through"

"After surviving the eye guy"

"He can be a bit annoying with all of his pranks, but we actually got a few good pranks on him too"

"The one with the bucket of lemon juice over the door sounded hilarious"

"...Ok, we might've gone too far with that one"

"Maybe not far enough"

"Well either way, he's still a cool guy"

"Yeah, your little crush"

"I told you already, I don't have a crush on him!"

"Yeah yeah, the whole eyes in a jar thing, you told me, weirdo. But I know that must've taken a lot of bravery on your part"

"Well whatever, he doesn't even have those eyes anymore"

"...What do you mean by that?"

"I mean he doesn't have those eyes anymore, he traded them out for mantis shrimp eyes a bit ago"

"Wait, how the fuck?"

"Now he just wears this blindfold everywhere, because according to him his mind couldn't handle all of the new colors on the spectrum, it was like sensory overload"

"....huh?"

"Sad too, I really liked those eyes and he stabbed one out right in front me"

"PAUSE?"

"Yeah, he pretended he had a lab accident and that he got a needle in his eye. He started screaming, then I started screaming, and Alicia screamed, and I don't know where Galleta went, probably hid somewhere. Anyway, after all that he just started laughing his ass off, and even started digging the needle in deeper just to freak us out"

"Dude, that's horrible"

"Nah, according to him it doesn't hurt. He's done it like 50 times before, and he said he did it because he was getting a new pair anyway"

"Still"

"I know, sad. I asked him if I could have the other one, but he said he wanted to keep it"

"Why? I thought he destroyed the other one because he didn't want it?"

"He said those eyes have the most beautiful view of the world he's ever seen so far, that whoever used to own them didn't know that those eyes were able to see an extra unknown color, so he put that other eye on his chest"

"...Huh?"

"I know...it makes me want it more"

"Seek professional help"

"Too much work"

Kettia just laid at the head of her bed, arms crossed, looking at the ceiling "A lot to dump on me though, I don't know how I'm gonna keep it all a secret"

"Please. Like, if you could also let me know if Mom and Dad are going to try to visit me at that University, like, just try to distract them while I figure out what to do"

"I'm all for a good conspiracy, but like I said, they're gonna figure it out eventually"

"Hopefully by the time they figure it out, I'll have been graduated, and moved a country over"

"Wow, so you're really leaving us?"

"No, not for a long time, maybe not until I get my doctorate"

"Doctorate?!"

"Yeah, I might just go for my doctorate"

"Ok, for one, I can't imagine my sister ever becoming a doctor. If I needed life-saving surgery, and you were the only surgeon in the country, I would just die"

"Hey, I've done a pretty good job shadowing Ishaq"

"You just told me how terrible he is at his job"

"Exactly, so it's a learning experience for both of us"

"...Bruh. Well whatever the fuck you're majoring in, how do you expect to keep this secret until you get your doctorate?"

"I'll figure that out when I get there"

"Bruh..." Kettia sighed "You're kind of a dumbass"

****

The sun had already set on this cold fall night, and Koshiro found himself driving a lonely road. Not many people out, he was expecting way more, but he of course didn't complain about having a clear open road to commute back. He couldn't help but think back to earlier, when he stopped by his favorite coffee shop that morning, he had noticed a father playing games with his young daughters at one of the tables, likely just wasting time until he had to drop them off at school.

That moment was an interesting coincidence, right on the day when his own daughter was coming to visit, after her sudden disappearance. Koshiro knew his daughter was going to leave the nest soon, he had even encouraged it, but he never expected it to happen over night. The day Mari left, Koshiro had said his goodbyes like he always had, not expecting that to possibly be his last for a good while. The moment was enlightening to him, a reminder that youth passes as quickly as the changing autumn leaves. Just a short time ago he had congratulated his beloved daughter on graduating High School, just a bit before that, he was sending her off to her first day in High School, and a bit before that she had just been going to school, and not that long ago to him, she had just entered his life.

Koshiro didn't want to admit to his coworkers why he was more quiet than usual, that he was stressing the coming winter, because he still hadn't fully processed the spring that came years earlier. But the passing seasons wait for no one, and especially not for those who never stopped to give them even a moment's notice.

Glancing at the moon that came in as quickly as the setting sun, Koshiro thought about his conversation earlier...

****

Goddamn it, why does the boss think he can just dump all this work on me at the last moment. Who does he think I am? I ought to give him a piece of my mind!...Who are you kidding Koshiro, you're not going to do any of that... *sigh* ...Guess I'll have to tell Rose

".....Hey honey.....Oh yeah, it's going well I guess, but hey, I won't be able to make it to dinner on time. Stupid boss, you already know. I'll probably be back by 9.....Oh really? That long, ok, I'm glad. Uhm, did Mari make it over ok?..... Has she said anything about school yet? Or why she might've left?.....Well I think she at least owes us an explanation..... Yeah, kind of your fault for coddling her so much..... Well I wasn't there to tell her, you were....." *Koshiro gave a long pause* "...Yeah, I guess I will...Love you too..."

*beep*

#Read science club #chapter 3 #Sylvester clemensen's science club #science club #original writing #original story #story

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shouldyouwakethewriteblr · 2 years

Text

I wanted to indulge in a little Sally-actually-experiencing-joy and so I wrote a cozy flashback with her and the kids. Felt like sharing. 😊🛏🌙

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Words: 1'803

Rating: (K+/PG)

Setting: Early 1880s (Flashback)

Characters: Sally (33), Martha (11), Sylvester (8), John Ira (6)

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Standing in her nightgown by the kitchen table and using a dull pair of sewing scissors, Sally sawed at the burnt wick of her glass lamp, her tongue in her cheek and eyes squinting in the dark.

Above her, a series of heavy footsteps pounded back and forth across the ceiling, shaking dust loose onto her head, followed by shrill laughter. Sally scoffed and blew the charred remnants of the cut wick away.

Upon relighting her lamp, she carried it by the foot to light her way up the saggy, old wooden steps.

On the other side of the little, three-foot-wide hall, orange candlelight flickered inconsistently around the cracks in the heavy door in the boys’ room, interrupted by sporadic movement on the other side.

And still, the children’s voices giggled and yipped, with the occasional excited and unintelligible whisper.

Sally paused outside for a moment, turning her ear close and smirking.

“Pull, pull, pull!” one voice whispered.

“I’m trying!” another hissed back.

With one quick shove of her shoulder, Sally shoved the door open.

In the small, candlelit room, her two oldest children sat opposite each-other on the two iron-frame beds, each putting their weight into pulling one end of a bedsheet they’d folded lengthwise.

Startled, they dropped the sheet when their mother entered so abruptly, and the final, youngest child, who’d been hanging from the sheet by his arms and legs, hit the floor with a hard thump, the sheet spilling overtop of him.

“My god,” Sally scoffed as Sylvester scooted back to the head of the bed and Martha sat straight with her hands in her lap and a nervous smile on her face.

“What are you hellions doing?” She sat her lamp next to another on a shelf by the door. “Are you trying to kill your little brother?”

“I’m under here, Ma!” John Ira’s little voice called out, muffled from beneath the sheet. “I’m alright!”

“Oh,” she chuckled, crossing the room and stooping to pull the sheet off the boy, crumpling it up under her arm. “Come here, sweetheart, let me see you.”

John climbed up from the floor, grinning as if nothing had happened. She took his face in both hands and rubbed her thumbs on his cheeks, then turned him a little to peek at the back of his head.

“Ah, shoot. You’re all flattened back there.”

“Huh?” He went to rub the back of his head, but she quickly moved on to pinch his chin.

“And you knocked a tooth out! Tsk tsk.”

“That already happened before, Ma! Wer-rember?”

He bared his teeth to show off the wide gap where one incisor had fallen out about a week prior. Sally laughed and patted the side of his face.

“I’m only playing, hon… And it’s re-mem-ber.”

“Re-mem-ber.”

“Atta boy.” She winked and stood up, taking the sheet and tossing it at Martha’s chest for her to catch.

“Everyone’s in their bedclothes?” she pointed around the room. “Good. Sylvester, c’mere.”

She went to the side of his bed and he crawled forwards and got up on both knees for her to reach and knot the laces of his nightshirt.

“Thank you, Ma,” he said shyly. She shook her head and finished the bow, giving her son an affectionate nudge under the chin.

“I’m not cross with you all for playing together,” she told them. “I’d just rather it be at the cost of something other than perfectly good sheets or your brother’s skull. And Martha, you know better.”

Sylvester let out a quick laugh. “That’s right, Martha!” he mocked.

Martha stood up and tried to whip a pillow at him, but expecting it, Sally snatched it out of the air and tossed it back, only making Sylvester laugh out louder.

“It was his idea to use the sheet!” Martha protested.

“It was your idea to be ugly,” Sylvester retorted.

“Dear lord, children.” Sally put her hands out. “Calm down. There will be no heads in the stockades today. Relax.”

“We were trying to make a tightrope,” John Ira explained, climbing up onto the foot of the bed with Sylvester. “—Like the man in the waterfall picture.”

“Oh, wasn’t that something?” Sally scooped the little one up by his arms and dropped him on the pillows next to his brother.

“Uh-huh and Martha and Sly were helping me, so you shouldn’t be cross with them at all ”

“I just said I wasn’t.” Sally lifted the bedding and the boys shimmied under it. She then pulled the covers up to their chests and smoothed them out.

“Is tomorrow Tuesday?” Sylvester asked up at her.

“Yes sir.”

“We’ll go to the Pooles’ place, then?”

“Yes, you’ll help Mrs. Poole on the farm while I work. You know that.”

Sylvester softly sighed, fidgeting with the edge of the bedspread.

“You’ll be finished after lunch, then?”

Sally scoffed. “I’ll be finished when I’m through. What’s the matter with you, huh?”

“He doesn’t want to go,” Martha chimed in. “Last week Mrs. Poole yelled at him for pushing Tom on the ground.”

“What?” Sally looked back. “Surely she’d have told me if that were true. Sylvester?”

Sylvester shrugged, still staring at his own fingers poking at a fray in the blanket.

“He laughed at me.”

Sally sighed. “Sly—”

“I asked him to stop and he only laughed more!”

“What reason would he have to laugh at you?”

Sylvester frowned over at the wall. “Because I needed help with my trousers or I was gonna piss myself,” he said bluntly.

“Ah.” Sally looked back at Martha and pretended to shield her hushed words with a hand.

“I’d have wanted to push the little rat, too,” she said, causing Martha to cover her mouth and snort. When she looked back, Sylvester also seemed to be fighting off a smile.

“We must be kind with the Pooles, though,” Sally changed her tune. “They’ve been nothing but good to us.”

“I like to play with Jessie,” John Ira commented. “She’s nice.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you do!” Martha sprawled on her side. “Wouldn’t you know I caught you kissing her cheek over by the chicken coop!”

John Ira shot up in the bed. “You weren’t supposed to tell!”

The eldest pair erupted into laughter. Sylvester rolled over to jab his brother in the side with his fingers.

“You gonna get married?” he teased. “Start kissin’ on the mouth?”

Playing along with the torment, Martha made kissing noises from her side of the room until Sally shot her a look and she ducked down shyly.

“Uh, no?” John seemed only confused. “I’m six years old and uh, she’s five years old.”

He held up five fingers, and Sally threw back her head and cackled.

“G-Good answer!” she told him, pushing on his chest until he laid back down. “Plenty of time for all that nastiness when you’re older.”

As of on queue, Martha and Sylvester both broke out in a second chain of mock kissing sounds, causing John to blush red and yanked the pillow over his face, sending them into a giggling fit.

“Stop it!” he roared out in his scariest ‘wild beast’ voice; even less intimidating when muffled out by a pillow. The other children laughed harder.

“Enough,” Sally chuckled, pulling the pillow away and kissing the forehead on her boy’s frustrated, flushed face.

“Good night, sweet boy. Leave your brother some room tonight.”

“Alright, Mama. Goodnight, Mama.”

Crawling over a ways, she planted another one on Sylvester’s temple, then brushed a strand of hair from his fair eyes.

“Goodnight, Sly,” she whispered. “I’ll rush home real quick-like tomorrow, alright? Just be a good boy for me.”

He smiled softly and nodded. “Goodnight, Ma.”

With that, Sally went to fetch the lamps. One she twisted off and the other she brought over to the second bed.

“Scoot over, blondie,” she told Martha, who complied, shifting back until her back hit the wall.

She set the lamp on the low table between the two beds and twisted the know until the tall flame’s light became a hazy orange glow.

Then, getting under the blankets, she stretched out her toes beneath the warm, heavy linen and sighed, looking over at Martha.

“You do this yourself?” she asked, taking Martha’s braid from her shoulder and admiring the shining plaits.

“I did.”

“You better quit this growing up bull fast, young miss. Christ alive.”

Martha chuckled. “You can do it next time.”

“You bet I will,” Sally teased. “Who do you think you are?”

Martha grinned and snuggled into her pillow, her eyes half-open and reflecting back the light from the tiny flame. Sally sighed, and laid the braid gently behind the girls back before brushing her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Who’s idea was it to let you become so pretty, huh?”

“Hm. It’s the river water does it,” she joked.

“Oh, hush,” Sally playfully tapped the side of the girl’s head, and she smiled without opening her eyes.

“Goodnight, Ma.”

“Hmmph. Goodnight, miss Martha.”

Reaching back, she twisted the lamp off fully, turning the room black and filling it with a temporary smell of sharp smoke.

Once the light was out, she heard little more than the occasional shuffling around from the children, who knew to be quiet after dark. Still, she waited until she could hear all three individual breathing patterns slow before she let herself drift off.

°°°

Some uncertain time later, Sally awoke as she often did. With a heavy weight on her body and clenching of her throat. She jolted in the bed and opened her eyes to the near-darkness, a hazy grey light soaking in through the window, with crickets still trilling outside.

For a moment, she drew in air, reminding her lungs to open up and breathe, then she settled back into the mattress, glancing over at the silhouettes of the boys in the opposite bed, seemingly tangled and piled all on top of each-other.

She sighed—and a hand fell softly upon her chest, nearly causing her to jump again.

“Bad dream, Mama?” Martha’s weak, tired voice creaked. Sally turned her way and saw the outline of her pale face and hair in the dark, still rested on the pillow.

“A little one,” Sally answered in a whisper. “Don't worry.”

Martha loudly sighed, then wriggled her body close until her chin rested against Sally’s shoulder.

“It’s all alright, Mama,” the girl softly soothed, weakly patting Sally’s chest.

“Everything’s good and—” She paused to yawn. “—well.”

Sally gave a silent chuckle, her heart finally ceasing to pound so violently as before.

She reached up and laid her hand over her daughters and kissed the top of her head, letting her stay there and fall back asleep as she herself stared up at the shadow of the ceiling, unlikely now to do the same.

#this gave me the indulgent warm fuzzies btw #my writing (sywtw)#◇ 'long way down to the bottom of the river' (sally)#◇ 'losing grip of what i thought i knew' (martha)#◇ 'are these vultures overhead' (sylvester)#◇ 'baby lion lost his teeth' (john-ira)

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sweetkingdomstarlight-blog · 3 years

Note

Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys + “I told you not to fall in love with me.” for Bucky, pls!!

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Words - 1286

Warnings - kissing, some dry humping, implied sex

a/n - Thank you Marzi for sending me this prompt in, I hope I did it justice for you. Not beta’d so all these mistakes as usual belong to me. Using this gif because it makes me feral.

You stepped out of the car wearing the dress that you and Monica had spent hours picking out. It was turquoise, floor length and backless and it made you feel like a million dollars. Bucky had opened your door and held out his hand for you to help you out, keeping his hand on your lower back to usher you inside.

Bucky was your date for the night, you were supposed to get in, get the intel and put a tracker on Alex Sylvester. He was flagged up as dealing Chitauri technology in Queens and it was your job to track him and his buyers. Easy in, easy out. You could have done it yourself but Bucky wanted to keep you safe, he wore white gloves over his hands to disguise his new Wakandan arm and made sure to shake hands using his right arm only.

“Guys he’s upstairs in the bathrooms, he’s being flanked by two bodyguards so you’ll have to be sneaky” Sam said in your ear. You looked up at Bucky and slightly nodded your head, making your way up the stairs and pretending you were a little drunk.

Giggling all the way up to the top floor, people would look at you and either roll their eyes or laugh at Bucky in pity for having to deal with you. He ushered you to the mens bathrooms, whispering something to the bodyguards who looked you up and down before letting you in. Sylvester was stood washing his hands and got a fright when you burst through the door, giggling and holding on to Bucky so you didn’t fall over. You pushed him against the door and leaned on him “James please lets just get out of here, you and me.”

Sylvester tried to move you both out of the way so he could leave, you managed to flip out the tiny blade containing the microchip and stab him in the hand while you steadied yourself on him. He didn’t notice and you let him walk out, rolling your eyes as his hands grazed your ass on his way past.

Once alone Bucky quickly checks the stalls before telling Sam that phase one was dealt with, he sent you the blueprints for the next part of the mission. You both snuck out, making small talk so you didn’t look so obvious and made your way down the closed off corridor. You counted the doors until you come to the office you needed but heard someone approaching you both “quick kiss me.” Bucky looks confused for a second but quickly presses his lips to yours, cradling your head in his hands and pushing his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans. You grab his ass in your hands, something you’ve always wanted to do, and he leans you against the door of the office. Some other partygoers walk past you both and you all slightly nod at each other as if silently communicating what was about to happen.

Opening the door you gesture towards the desk, sitting him on the edge while you slip the memory stick out of the heel of your shoe, downloading the hard drive you will it to just hurry up so you both could get out of there as quickly as possible. The bodyguards from earlier opened the door just as you were slipping the memory stick back in its place. Deciding to make them feel really uncomfortable you kneel in between Bucky’s thighs and wait for them to walk in, making sure the zip on his trousers very audibly opened.

He looked down at you with a mischievous smirk and you heard Sam whispering in your ear telling you not to do anything he has to hear or he’ll be scarred for life. The bodyguard clears his throat and you look up at him, faux innocence in your eyes “hey I was just about to give my boyfriend the time of his life, do you mind?” He looks at you dumbstruck then at Bucky who has a cocky smirk on his face “cmon man you never needed to just get some there and then?” Shaking his head he gestures at you both to leave, before radioing his colleagues to make sure you’re escorted outside. You hear Sam in your ear as you wait for your car to be pulled round, he’s making fake vomiting sounds and you snigger at him whispering for him to stop before you blow your cover.

On the way back to the safe house you notice he’s quiet, normally you can’t get him to shut up around you. You turn to him and tilt your head to the side looking at him closely as he drives “what are you doing over there? I’m supposed to be the one who stares” that breaks the tension in the car and you can’t help but to giggle at him for making fun of himself. “You’re just quiet, I’m not used to it. Can I ask you a question?”

Turning his head briefly he looks at you, nodding for you to continue “where did you learn to kiss like that?” You ask him, fanning your neck in an exaggerated gesture to make him laugh “just because you don’t see girls around the tower doesn’t mean I don’t get any practice in” he says in mock offence. You hold your hands up in surrender and turn back to see where you are, texting Sam to let him know you’re almost back to the safe house. You have the place to yourselves for the next two days while someone remotely checks the files you upload, you can’t go home just in case you have follow Sylvester somewhere nearby.

You both shower and get your comfy clothes on before making some food and relaxing on the sofa together “ok so you have to tell me, what’s your number since you got off the ice.” He shakes his head and looks down at the beer bottle in his hands “there’s been a few, why you getting jealous over there doll?” You snort a laugh out but don’t disagree with him, narrowing his eyes he looks deep into yours and the penny drops “I told you after that mission we had in England not to fall in love with me” he smiles at you and dodges the slap that you throw his way, not expecting you to straddle his lap and place your hands on either side of his head.

You stare at each other for a moment, daring the other to move before pulls you in closer and kisses you. He takes his time and has you whimpering into his mouth, you grind your hips down onto his crotch and feel a surge of pride that he’s already hardening under you “maybe its my turn to remind you not to fall in love with me” you say before climbing off him and walking to your room. You sit on the bed and count to 5 before he barges in and pushes you down, kissing down your neck and across your collarbone.

It takes less than a month for you both to finally admit you’re in love. Sam collecting his winnings from Clint the first time you both say it in public. “You both need to get a room somewhere else in the building, you can’t keep me up every night like you have been. I need my sleep!” Sam complains before grabbing the coffee jug off Clint and walking back to his room, shouting at you both to stay away from him for at least 24hrs. You count to 5 before chasing after him and loudly have fun up against his bedroom wall.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes imagine

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granolabird · 3 years

Text

What Matters

Pretty much no Hournite content tonight, and now we have to wait several months for them to come back- this is cruel and unusual punishment I say. Once again, to make up for the lack of hournite in canon, here’s a post S2 finale fic! It’s just Rick and Beth relaxing, and enjoying their lives now that they’re free of Eclipso. A lot of soft fluff with very minimal angst. It’s the happiness they deserve after everything they’ve been through.

Warnings: N/A

Taglist @hournites @bethchapelsbonnet

If you’d like to be added to my (probably) weekly Hournite fic tag list feel free to ask :)

Rick is exhausted. After everything, he could really just use a good strawberry milkshake and a several day long nap. That would be ideal. Instead he’s in the Pitstop loft, boredly skimming some outdated car magazine. He’d rather be out and about, or in a proper bed at least, but for the time being he has nowhere else to go. No home. The loft will be his living space for the foreseeable future, and as much as he loathes staying here he knows it’s still leagues better than when he lived with Matt.

As he glances around the room briefly, Rick’s eyes land on the table in the centre of the loft. Rick’s supplies for fixing the hourglass are piled on one side of the table, his dad’s journal laid precariously on top. He’d given up on trying to fix it hours ago, too exhausted to even bother with the equations at this point. He’d spent so much time working away at the hourglass, he’d really rather be doing anything else. That anything else arrives in the form of Beth Chapel, who is suddenly marching up the stairs of the loft. Rick had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn’t even heard her coming up the stairs, but as soon as he sees her he bolts up from where he’s been laying on the sofa.

“Rick! Sorry, I know I’m early, my parents insisted they drop me off early for… some reason? I don’t really know, maybe they have a date or something.” Beth says with a shrug as she leans against the table, careful to avoid Rick's hourglass supplies.

“It’s alright, better early than late, yeah?” Rick offers and Beth nods.

“Yeah! For sure.”

There’s an awkward pause, and Beth glances back at the haphazard hourglass pile.

“No luck with the hourglass yet?” She gestures to the pile, and Rick nods with a sigh.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of work. Really stressful too, I can’t seem to get it right. I’m kinda tired of it at this point.” Rick grumbles, tossing the old car magazine onto a side table before getting up.

“Well then I guess we should get going then! Give you something to do other than hourglass work, huh?” Beth offers with a small smile.

“Yeah!” Rick agrees before continuing, “Are the others already at the diner?”

“Well, about that… Cindy didn’t want to go, Courtney said she had impromptu training with Sylvester, and Yolanda had something come up with her brother so…” Beth looks at the floor awkwardly.

“It’s just us again?”

“Yeah.”

“As per usual.” Rick laughs and shakes his head.

“We can’t let that dampen the mood though, right? I mean we just beat Eclipso! It’s summer, we’ve still gotta have fun!” Beth says with a forced smile.

Rick can tell she’s trying her best not to act disappointed, but honestly he’s kind of relieved. He prefers spending time alone with Beth, although he’d never admit it. Courtney is always shooting him looks when Beth isn’t looking. He hasn’t told anyone how he feels about Beth, but he knows that Courtney knows. It’s only a matter of time before she says something, and then there will be no going back. So he’s not particularly upset that she isn't attending, but he doesn’t dare say that aloud.

“Yeah, let's go. We can get milkshakes to go, and then walk around town? The day is so nice, we don’t have to stay cooped up inside. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“That sounds like a dream, Rick.” Beth grins at him, and Rick ducks his head slightly, trying his best not to show that he’s utterly flustered. He smiles back at her, and then tips his head towards the stairs and they both head down together, just happy to be in one another’s presence.

Rick drives them to the diner, parking out front, and making sure he pays for the milkshakes despite Beth’s objections. He insists that she definitely did more to save everyone during Eclipso’s attack and therefore he should pay for her milkshake. She objects that he was braver, going into battle without his hourglass but he waves her off and puts enough money for two milkshakes on the counter. The server behind the counter smiles at him knowingly as he puts the bills down, and Rick seriously begins to wonder if everyone in this town is aware of his feelings for Beth. Is he really that obvious? He glances at Beth but if she saw the look the server gave them she gives no indication. They chat idly, until the milkshakes arrive, and then they thank the server profusely and head on out.

“You know, milkshakes are much better when they’re the flavour you actually ordered.” Rick jokes as he guzzles down his strawberry milkshake.

“Hey! Yolanda was trying her best, she was still new at her job, give her some credit!” Beth jokingly elbows Rick in the side and they both laugh.

“Oh c’mon Beth admit it, this milkshake is much better.”

“It tastes considerably nicer, but I still liked the ones Yolanda made better because they were made by a friend.”

“That's The point! Yolanda didn’t know how to make milkshakes either!”

“Oh so if I made you a pizza would you like it more than your favourite pizza place?”

“You don’t even know how to make pizza Rick!”

“She was trying her best!” Beth sighs and shakes her head, chuckling.

“That may very well be, but her best still wasn’t as good as this strawberry milkshake is.” Rick says before taking an accentuated drink from his cup.

“Fine, you have a point. But that doesn’t mean Yolanda’s milkshakes weren’t good as well.”

“I never said they weren’t!” Rick raises his hands innocently, and almost drops his milkshake. Beth laughs at him as he fumbles to make sure he doesn’t drop it, and he finds himself laughing along with her as they make their way down the street together, back to Rick’s car.

After everything with Eclipso, the day seems almost too perfect. The duo walk around town, browsing stores, playing with someone’s dog in the park, and now they sit in Rick’s car in the waning light with the radio turned on just slightly too loud as Rick drives them along the backroads. Rick can’t help but smile as Beth sings along to Dancing Queen, the song grainily playing from his car radio. He chimes in from time to time, and every time he does Beth grins at him and he feels like his heart is going to explode. This is everything he wanted and more. Rick was really starting to believe his whole summer, or maybe even his whole life, was going to be awful. For a long time he assumed the rest of his days would be spent in jail. And yet now here he is with the girl of his dreams, having the time of his life. He doesn’t think it can get any better than this. As the song ends, he catches Beth staring at him. He tilts his head, giving her a quizzical look as he turns the radio down.

“What’s up?” He asks, and Beth startles slightly, obviously not expecting him to notice her watching him.

“Hm?”

“I don’t know, you were looking at me all concerned? I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“I don’t know. I think I’m still processing it all. It’s a lot.”

“It is! I’m just… I’m worried about you. You lost Grundy, you lost your home, you lost your hourglass. I just want to make sure you’re okay Rick.” Beth gives Rick the look she always does when she’s worried about him, all wide eyed and soft. It makes him blush, and he’s infinitely thankful for the darkening sky helping him hide it.

Beth nods knowingly, and lays a hand on Rick’s arm.

“If you need to talk about it, or anything, I’m here for you, you know that right?” She offers quietly.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks Beth, really. You don’t know how much that means to me.” He takes a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“I think I do, actually.” Beth says it so quietly that Rick can barely hear it.

Rick isn’t entirely sure he was supposed to hear that, but he can’t just leave a statement like that in the air.

“What do you mean?” He asks tentatively, and Beth looks out the window suddenly, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, you did the same for me. When my parents were getting divorced you offered to help, and that meant the world to me. You were there for me when nobody else was, and now that I’m doing better I want to be able to do the same for you.” She doesn’t look at him while she says this, and Rick forces himself to keep looking at the road despite how badly he wants to check up on her.

“You what?” Beth is looking at him with wide concerned eyes again.

“I…” Love you. The words die on his tongue. It’s too soon to say such a thing, and Rick knows it. Even if Beth feels the same way, he can’t bring himself to say it. He wants so badly to let her know how much he cares, but every time he gets close he finds himself second guessing himself. He’ll get the confidence to say it one day, eventually. At least he hopes he will.

“I appreciate it Beth, really.” He bluffs, letting out a sigh as he drums his thumbs on the steering wheel.

“You did the same for me, I’m just repaying the favor.” She half-laughs.

“Well, no matter the reasoning it really means a lot to me. You’re always here for me when I need you, and for that I’m grateful.”

It’s the truth. Beth means the world to Rick, and his awe for her grows more and more every day.

“Well, you’re welcome I guess? Just remember I’m here for you.” Beth says softly and Rick smiles, trying not to show how much that means to him. He’s desperately trying to bury how much he cares for her.

“Was I really that obvious?”

“I know, Beth. I’m here for you too, if you ever want to talk about Chuck leaving. Don’t think I didn’t notice how upset you were that he was going back to his family.”

Beth rests her head in her hand at that, letting out a downtrodden huff.

“Yeah, a little.” Rick tells her, and Beth huffs again.

“I know it was for the best, and he meant no harm by leaving me, but I really hoped he would’ve stayed. It was like someone finally understood me, and then when I finally started to think that I had someone like me on the team, he left. He didn’t even train me! There’s probably so much about the goggles I don’t know yet, but now I’ll never know. I’m ranting, I’m sorry, this is way less of an issue compared to everything that’s happened to you-”

“No Beth, it’s okay. You’re fine. I don’t even know how to begin to talk about everything that’s happened to me, it’s… it’s a lot. So let's focus on you for now. I’d rather not dwell on my stuff anyway, I feel like every time I think about it, it’s going to overwhelm me.” Rick reassures her, tossing a small smile her way.

“Okay. Yeah, then that’s what’s troubling me right now. I just feel like I had so much more to learn, you know?” Beth keeps looking at Rick with concern but she doesn’t pry on the subject of his trauma any further. It’s clear that everything hasn’t fully sunken in for him at this point.

“Yeah, I get it. But look at all you’ve accomplished so far without Chuck! You impressed him, Beth. You’re strong with or without him I promise. Hell you’re probably stronger than I am right now, I don’t even have my hourglass.” Rick tells her.

Beth laughs at that, shaking her head.

“Nah, I think you could still beat me in a fight, I mean look at those muscles!” She pokes him in the arm for emphasis, and Rick finds himself laughing too. The previous solemn mood is seemingly forgotten as the duo begin to jokingly bicker over who would win in a hypothetical fight.

After a good half an hour more of driving and chatting, Beth glances at the clock, and informs Rick;

“I should probably get heading home. It’s getting close to dinner time, and superheroing aside, my parents will probably want me home to eat with them.”

“Alright, yeah. I’ll start heading back.” Rick turns his car at the next road and begins to navigate his way back to town.

“That reminds me!” Beth exclaims, making Rick nearly jump out of his skin.

“Sorry, sorry didn’t mean to scare you. I just remembered, my parents said if you ever get tired of staying at the Pitstop, or you need somewhere to eat, you can stop by my place! They want to make sure all my JSA friends are cared for, I think. They’re way more invested in all this than I thought they’d be.” Beth glances at Rick, clearly wanting to say something more, but not sure how to get the words out.

“Oh, well, uh, thank you to your parents? I appreciate the offer.” Rick isn’t quite sure what exactly to say in this situation.

“Yeah! Yeah. I was thinking, if you didn’t have any plans or anything, you could come to my place for dinner tonight? If you want to. We’ve always got room for one more, and I’m sure you’d like some real food after all the jail meals.” Beth is rushing her words, and it takes a moment for Rick to register what she’s said.

“You want me to come to your house for dinner? Tonight?”

“If you want to, yeah. My parents would love to meet you. They, um, want to get to know the JSA better. I think we’re having lasagna tonight, just in case that sways your decision.”

“Sure.”

Rick can’t help but think there’s something else Beth isn’t saying but he doesn’t ask, he simply resigns to his fate. The back of his mind tells him that this is Beth’s parents' way of meeting the boy who is going to date their daughter, but he has to swiftly remind himself that there’s no guarantee they’ll ever even date. That’s just his wild imagination talking.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, why not? I like lasagna, and I figure if your parents know more about the JSA it only makes sense that they meet us all.”

“Right, perfect. I guess we’ll both head to my house then. Just warning you now, my parents will probably ask a lot of questions.”

Rick laughs at that, already thinking of all the questions he’s about to be bombarded with.

“It’s alright. I’ll be there with you, and that’s what matters.” Rick winces as he says it, thinking that was too sappy of a line.

When he looks to Beth however, he sees her grinning widely, unable to hide her joy. Apparently it was on the right side of just-sappy-enough. He grins right back at her, letting the moment overwhelm him. Eclipso is gone, and he’s here with Beth, going to properly meet her parents. The future may be uncertain, but this very moment is perfect, and right now that’s all Rick cares about.

As long as he’s got Beth by his side, he knows everything will turn out okay. That’s what matters.

#Will I make it through the between season break? top 10 questions science can't answer #I will miss them dearly until I get to see them again #Hournite #beth chapel #Rick Tyler #Stargirl #stargirl spoilers #beth x rick #Ding dong the wicked Eclipso is dead #Hourman #dr midnite #fluff

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fumingspice · 4 years

Text

i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: “I just wanted a happy ending.” “I’m drunk in love with you.” “If you quote a Taylor Swift or Fleetwood Mac song one more time I’ll slap you.”

Warnings: slightly drunk delia, angsty, mentions of ill mental health. happy ending

A/N: I don’t even know. I think I’m just projecting at this rate. I wrote this instead of doing another of my five history essays due for Friday so if my teacher kills me in my sleep you know why <3

and when you can’t sleep at night; you hear my stolen lullaby.

Madison Montgomery grunted in frustration. Then again when she was ignored the first time.

You kept your head in your book, knowing she was desperate for attention.

“Lord almighty,” Madison groaned dramatically, sitting against the arm of the couch and then throwing herself back over your lap. Visibly irritated by the fact that you still handed looked up from your book she almost shouted; “Oh, how I wish someone would acknowledge my presence.”

You met at her eyes for a split second and returned them promptly to the book.

“That’s it,” she muttered. Madison gripped the book from your hand and threw it across the room. You clenched your hands into fists, doing your best to maintain your calm composure. That’s who you were in the coven. The calm one. “Look at me when I’m goddamn talking to you!”

Your eyes darted up to meet Madison’s steel glare. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Y/N?” she exclaimed.

You genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t yell at me, Montgomery,” you replied, biting your tongue hard.

Madison had no patience for playing games when she found something serious. Which although wasn’t often, it was almost always about something as superficial as a wrong glance at dinner. “You’ve been giving Cordy the cold shoulder for the past three months. I want to know what’s going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Madison threw her hands up at you. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m kidding I don’t actually care.”

“Typical,” you muttered. You gave a wave of your hand and your book came flying from the other side of the room. Madison turned around in one swift movement and punched the book square, sending in hurtling to the ground.

“I’m being sarcastic, you dumb fucking bitch!” She yelled. If you weren’t so pissed right now you would probably have been impressed with her reflexes.

“What do you fucking want, Madison? You’ve getting on my tits every fucking day for the entire week,” you started yelling unintentionally. “So, what is it? What exactly do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to fucking tell you- yet again- that Cordelia has a fucking boyfriend? You want me to reiterate it to you that I can’t fucking look at her in any other way?”

Madison smirked, knowing she was getting you exactly where she wanted you. “It’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your shit together after you broke up with her. The least you could do is grow a pair of balls and be happy for her.”

You felt your face go red with anger. “Are you fucking insane?! Do you actually hear yourself right now? Madison, I told you fucking everything! I told you it was a mutal decision. I told you that it was the last fucking decision that I fucking wanted to make!” You screamed. The anger had been building up for weeks, and sweet jesus did the release feel good.

It was late at night and you knew that if any girls weren’t asleep they would be hearing exactly what you had to say. Cordelia wasn’t in the building after all. You could say anything you liked.

“I fucking love her, Madison. Every time I see her smile at that knock-off Lindsey Buckingham I want to rip his fucking face off! I know you can’t see that because the boy you brought back from the dead chose your best friend over you and then strangled you to death!”

That’s where your words got Madison.

Within a second, you found your hand striking your face hard.

Composure was the last thing on your mind now as your fist went straight for Madison’s nose. A crack and screamed followed as the blonde launched herself at you.

A scrap insued, knocking each other into furniture, punching, kicking. You fell to the ground as Madison’s boot was launched into your stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. You pushed yourself off the floor and kneed her in the crotch, sending her down to the ground with you on top of her. Your fists had found a mind of their own as they gave blows to her face, chest and stomach.

Your body was thrown from Madison’s, pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Madison crawled from the floor and punched you hard in the stomach. Then the face. You could feel blood dripping from your nose and mouth when the force dropped you on the ground. Madison sulked off, seemingly satisfied as you curled yourself into a ball.

Tears fell slowly from your eyes for the first time in months. You’d finally released every pent up piece of energy that you had held in and there was nothing left in your walls to keep you together. Madison had taken a physcial and verbal fist to everything keeping you together.

It was true; the decision to break up was mutal. Although, it seemed slightly more mutual for Cordelia. You whined too much, you thought, for her to be happy as your friend. Now, months since, you found yourself in a false mask of calmness and serenity about the situation.

The tears were almost temporary as you lay facing the ceiling. Blood dried on your cheeks making your skin feel tight but you didn’t care to move. You almost fell asleep until the front door unlocked at some ungodly hour in the morning. You didn’t care who it was nor did you care to move at this rate.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. The lines of blood on your face struck nasty images from long ago of blood on your limbs. You had recovered now. You were strong and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would never allow yourself to ever feel worthless again. You weren’t disposable. You are not disposable. You were a beautiful soul in a soaring tide, although struggling to see that.

Familiar footsteps clacked down the hall into the parlour.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N?" Cordelia's voice sent a pang of dread coursing through your body.

"Leave me alone, Delia," you groaned, your body still ached for Madison's assault.

Cordelia fell to her knees beside you. "Oh, sweetheart what happened?" There was a pleading in her voice as she lifted the top half of your body onto her lap. She dabbed your blood with her sleeve.

You could smell the alcohol off her.

"Can you stand up for me?" She asked, helping you to your feet. She brought you to the kitchen and began tending to the mess that was your face. "Please, Y/N. Tell me what happened."

You brushed her off and tried to leave to go to your bedroom. With a flick of her wrist, Cordelia brought furniture to block the entrance.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me exactly what happened, young lady."

You chuckled meanly. "You're fucking kidding me." You turned to face her. "Madison beat the shit out of me."

Cordelia's face dropped in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm still trying to fucking figure that out!" You shouted. Cordelia's face flinched.

There was a silence that you hadn't felt with her in a long time, shortly interupted by Zoe walking into the kitchen.

"Cordelia, go to bed," she said. She was going to bring the calm, apparently. "I'll take care of Y/N. I think I know what happened."

"Well, then could you please explain that to me?" Delia asked defensively. Zoe motioned for her to leave.

Zoe approached you slowly and took one look at your face. "Your nose is broken," she muttered. "I know a spell, it'll hurt like a bitch but it'll save the process."

You shrugged and let her do her thing, regretting it almost immeditely as your shrieked in pain.

"Cordelia still loves you, Y/N. I don't know how you haven't seen that yet," she told you, pressing a wet towel to your nose.

"She sure as hell has a weird way of showing it," you replied. All the talk about Cordelia for the first time in months was hitting you like a truck. You dealt with things by ignoring it and although it probably wasn't efficient. It still worked.

Zoe glared at you. "She broke up with Sylvester. I can sense it," she told you. "She misses you more than anything in the world."

Tears threatened to make themselves known once more. "I can't keep doing this, Zoe. I can't keep thinking there's another chance when there's just not."

Zoe tugged you into a warm hug. "Please talk to her, Y/N. Maybe it'll do more good than not."

You nodded in agreement and heaved yourself up the stairs. Cordelia's bedroom door faced you as you mustered up the courage to knock. You could almost hear the echos of memories you shared in her room.

"Police Officer knock," the girls often joked that you had. The door opened itself and you walked in.

"Cordelia?" You spoke, glancing around her room. You could see her outline laying across the bed, a glass of scotch in hand.

Cordelia poked her head up as you walked to the bed. She had clearly been crying.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Delia," you said softly. Her reached under yours and the pain hit you hard.

"It's okay, Y/N. But can you please just be honest with me? What on Earth happened down there?"

Tears ran down both of your faces as you explained everything. Every word of your altercation with Madison, everything that happened, everything that you had felt over the past few months. Cordelia pressed her forehead against yours and you cried harder. How could her lips be so close yet so far away?

"Why have you been drinking lately? You barely touched it before?" You asked innocently. Cordelia pursed her lips.

"I missed that warmth," she choked. "I missed that warmth that I only ever felt when I was with you."

Her words shot daggers of guilt through you.

"No matter what I tried, no drink could ever match the feeling of being drunk in love with you," she sighed. "Time was taking its sweet time erasing you, so I thought I could do it myself. The drinks. The power. The men. Nothing got close to you."

You placed your hand over hers and squeezed it. "This is so, so stupid, Delia."

The Supreme nodded. "I know. All I ever wanted was a happy ending. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to marry you and adopt a child. I don't even know why I'm saying that I did want that. I do want that."

You dropped your head back. "Cordelia, I would give anything to call myself yours again but I cannot go through the heartbreak of losing you again."

Cordelia paused, you saw the reflection of your hurt in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I knew you didn't want it. I didn't want it. I just thought I was doing the best for you."

"This entire time I've felt like an open wound, Delia."

There was another silence.

"Y/N, what would I need to prove to you for another chance? One more shot to make this work. I want that chance to grow old with you," she said. The Supreme was begging for you at this point.

"Cordelia, I want you to understand that if it doesn't work out this time then I'm done."

Cordelia nodded solemly, her whiskey brown eyes darted to your lips. "Can I?"

You pressed your lips to hers before she could finish speaking, your soul ravaging for that piece of Cordelia that you had hungered for.

You found it in her lips. Finding yourselves giggling. Tears of relief, joy, happiness fell onto each other's skin like drops of nectar from the Gods. All was right when you were with her.

Warm lips, warm skin. Your hands weren't cold when you were with her.

Your lips danced together in rings of bliss as she enloped into you, it was like a battle of nature.

Cordelia broke away, her body shifting slightly under yours as her eyes sobered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask. Even placing your cheek on her hand gave you relief.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered. She breathed in sharply as she motioned for you to get off her. You complied and sat on the bed, watch as she walked over to the dresser and pull something out of a box at the bottom of a pile of paperwork.

You grinned, tears flowing down as she presented you with what she'd dug out.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice hopeful. You clasped your hand to your mouth and nodded hard.

The next morning at breakfast, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to Madison.

Not after what she did.

At least, not until you noticed her smirking in victory at the sight of the engagment ring on your finger.

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry @thesapphictimelady

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gleegirlimagines · 4 years

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Decisions, Decisions

Quinn's locker slammed shut. "How the hell could you do this?" Finn boomed. Quinn rolled her eyes before walking away. "Oh, don't get all up in my face Finn. What were we supposed to do?" Finn looked appalled. "Uh, quit Cheerios? Coach Sylvester is awful to you guys. And don't forget who was there for you the last time she dumped you on your ass. Us. Glee club!" Quinn stopped and turned to face the quarterback. "And you don't think I feel awful about that?" "You don't need to be a Cheerio to be cool." Anger boiled in Quinn. "Oh you are so naive. This whole school is about labels!" Finn scoffed. "Oh wow, I never realized you were so freaking weak!" Quinn began a comeback but was cut off by a voice. "What did you just say?"

They both turned to see Y/N Y/L/N, McKinley's newest addition to the football team who also happened to be Quinn's girlfriend. "All the Cheerios quit Glee club." Y/N rolled her eyes. "So why are you yelling at my girlfriend about it Hudson?" "I'm yelling at her because I'm the leader of this team!" Y/N stood up straight. "Maybe it's time for a change at the top." Finn looked surprised. "What's that supposed to mean?" Quinn spoke up next. "This is kinda hot actually." Y/N squared up to Finn. "It means that maybe the reason everyone hates us is because we need some new leadership. Face it you've had your feet in both worlds for a year now and never been able to bring them together. Maybe someone else could." "What? As in maybe you?" Y/N nodded. "As in, yes." Finn put on his "brave face" "Well maybe we should settle this right now." Y/N lightly shoved Finn. "Bring it." Finn shoved the girl back. "Brung." The two began shoving each other more and more forcefully as Quinn tried to speak some reason. Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste happened to be walking down the hallway and saw the commotion. They ran to break up the fight. "How many more fights do I have to break up this week? Now calm down. Get back to Glee club." Finn turned to Quinn. "Glad to see you'd bend over backwards for that dyke you're dating rather than your fucking family."

Finn shoved past Y/N and stopped. He turned and grabbed Y/N's shoulder to turn her before cocking his fist back and connecting with her nose. A nasty crack was heard as Y/N fell to the floor howling in pain. Quinn automatically dropped next to her girlfriend to assess the injury as Coach Beiste yanked Finn by his letterman jacket, yelling about how he was off the team and that Y/N was actually taking over as quarterback. Mr. Schue bent over to try to help Y/N when Sue stopped him. "Not so fast William. I suggest you get to your little loser club rehearsal. I will take care of this." She pointed to the two girls on the ground. Will sighed before turning to head to the auditorium. Sue looked at the two girls on the ground before helping the new quarterback up. "Q, get to the gym. I'll bring your girl there when I'm done cleaning her up. Start the team warmup." Quinn reluctantly nodded before planting a gentle kiss on Y/N's cheek before running in the direction of the gym. Sue turned to Y/N before helping her to the nurse. "Let's get you cleaned up Romo."

Y/N sat in the bleachers watching the Cheerios practice while holding a bag of ice to her nose. Santana had offered to go all "Lima Heights" on Finn for hurting her homegirl. Brittany has offered to make Y/N a card but the girl politely declined both offers. As the practice ended, Quinn came to sit next to her girlfriend. She leaned her head on her shoulder yawning. "I'm exhausted." Y/N chuckled. "I can tell baby. Let's go take a nap." Quinn stood before holding out her hand. Y/N took it as Quinn wrapped her hand around the taller girl's arm before heading to her car.

The two girls laid in Quinn's bed after Judy fussed over Y/N's injury, swearing that she was gonna yell at the boy's mother about how he treats girls. Quinn had her head on Y/N's chest as the quarterback ran her fingers through her blonde locks. "You didn't have to stand up to Finn like that. If you didn't, you would have never gotten hurt." Y/N chuckled. "Quinn. I love you. Of course I'm gonna defend you like that baby. It's my job." Quinn readjusted herself so she could look into Y/N's eyes. "I know. I'm just not used to having someone defend me like you do." Y/N smiled at the girl. "Well get used to it because I'm not going anywhere. That ring I put on your finger should tell you that much." She grabbed Quinn's hand and kissed the ring before connecting their lips. They pulled away when air was a necessity. "Let's sleep before your mom comes barging in here to get us for dinner." Quinn giggled and buried her face in Y/N's neck before the pair drifted off to sleep.

#quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray #glee imagine #finn hudson

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vapid-slut · 4 years

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Perfect Harmony; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Swearing, Michael being a dirty bitch

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Entering her senior year as a cheerio, the reader is excited to combine both her love of music and her newfound popularity. To Michael, however, this is the perfect opportunity to fuck with his innocent neighbor

A/N: Can we say, I hate this, because I really do. I have no idea what has compelled me to post this dumpster, just know that if you read this, no u didn’t <3 + I did not proofread this so if theres any typos I’m so sorry, I’m running on 4 hrs of sleep and 5 cups of coffee

Music was your life. Your parents often joked that you were singing before you uttered your first word. Unfortunately, there were no music clubs during your past two years of high school. It was only last year that you and the glee club won nationals, hence why you were able to keep funding. School administration was never really fond of the arts, but they would bend over backward to give the sports clubs whatever they needed.

Your biggest dream was to get a scholarship, preferably for music, since you excelled at it. All your life, you watched your father slave away to keep you happy. You just wanted to repay his kindness. Abruptly, your dream, which entailed you winning a grammy, was disrupted by the ringing of your alarm clock. Your arm stretched over to your nightstand, turning the device off, bringing the sound to a halt.

Slowly, you removed the sheets off your body, standing up for a brief stretch before walking to your bathroom. You went about your morning routine much quicker than you typically would. Mostly due to your excitement, this year would be the first that you spent closer to the top of the social food chain. Over the summer, your dad became fast friends with Coach Sylvester. She had come over a few times. And although their relationship was strictly platonic, they both had grown fond of each other. A week before school, she offered you a spot on the cheerios, one you couldn't turn down. Cheerleaders were at the very top of the pyramid. Girls wanted to be them while boys wanted to be with them.

Once you had finished doing the bare necessities your morning required, you hastily made your way to your closet, immediately reaching for one of the three cheerleading uniforms hanging on the rack. You stripped out of your pajamas before slipping into the skimpy skirt, unaware that you had an admirer. Michael had moved next door a few months into your freshman year, was a rather charming boy. He quickly became a hot commodity, no doubt due to how impeccably handsome he was. You were never too fond of him, but even you had to admit that he was a divine sight.

It never truly bothered you that the window into your room was straight across from the one piercing into his. But if you could see the look of satisfaction on his face as he watched you undress, you'd feel very unnerved. The boy had always felt attracted to you. He saw you as a challenge. You were one of the few students in your grade who was still a virgin. Not due to your looks, you frankly didn't have the time to go to parties or hook up with people. Your focus was on your education. And if getting into a great school meant sacrificing your social life, you were content with that.

Once you had finished getting your uniform on and slicking your hair into a neat updo, you gathered your things into your bag and hurried downstairs for breakfast. "Mornin' kiddo!" Your dad said, greeting you with a smile. You muttered a cheerful 'hey' in response, walking towards one of the cabinets full of cereal boxes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. My car had to get fixed up last night so, I'll have to take yours today." You shrugged as a reply, not caring. "So am I taking the bus today?" Your father shook his head, reaching for a spoon at the same time. "No. That nice boy next door offered to give you a ride today. Isn't that sweet?"

Fuck- you thought to yourself, of course, the universe found some way to screw up your day. You took a long sigh before shifting your eyes to the clock on the wall. "Shit! I'm sorry, dad. I'd love to eat breakfast, but the Glee meeting starts in 20 minutes." Your dad shrugged, not too bothered. "It's fine, go have fun and tell Michael I said hello." You nodded to your old man, and with that, you were up and out the door.

As soon as you stepped foot outside, there he was. Hair perfectly curled, toothpick dangling from his soft lips. You sighed, walking towards the blonde, waiting for him to get out of the way. "Wow, you become a cheerleader, and now you think you're hot shit?" He spat, you gave him a death glare before pushing him lightly to get inside the car. He followed suit, taking his place in the driver's seat. "As much as I find you annoying, your ass does look great in that skirt." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the boy as he started driving. "Listen up, Pillsbury fuckboy. Though this might seem hard to understand, I don't like you. And I'd rather not spend my senior year arguing with someone as unbearable as you, so can you please leave me alone?!"

The blonde chuckled at your response. Your mouth said one thing while your thoughts said another. "Your wish is my command." He mumbled sarcastically before reaching to turn up the music on the radio to an obscene volume. The rest of the car ride was entirely uneventful, neither of you uttering a word to each other. Ultimately, you had reached the school parking lot. Not many cars were there since it was early, and only a few clubs were meeting today. Before Michael could do anything, you swiftly got out the car, making sure to slam it loudly. "Don't fucking slam the door!" He said, his voice reaching you even though you were still walking, in response you promptly flipped him off. "Fucking bitch." He uttered lowly as you slowly left his field of view.

-----

"Welcome back, New Directions!" Glee's coach, Mr.Shue, said as you embraced your friends. "As you know, this will be our last year together, and a few of our beloved friends have left for college already. Which means we'll be having auditions for some newcomers." As he spoke, he walked over to the whiteboard, grabbing his trusted magic marker. "But there's a twist." You and everyone else in the room watched as he wrote out the words American Idol. "This time, you'll be judging with me."

You would typically be seated next to Tina and Mercedes, but they were both absent for the meeting. Instead, you sat with Santana on your left and Quinn to your right. You had to admit that it felt nice. Usually, you wouldn't ponder on things so benign. But you had spent most of high school getting teased by Michael and the rest of his sought after friends. Not a day went by that slushies weren't thrown in your face, now you could finally walk the halls without fear of humiliation.

Besides that, you were also really ecstatic to help Mr. Shue with auditions. Glee club was what had brought a group of entirely different people together. So you'd be more than glad to share that with a new ensemble of students before you all went your final ways.

-----

The rest of your day went by quicker than usual. There wasn't much to learn on the first day. Once the clock hit 3:30, You rushed to the auditorium as if your life depended on it. You had to admit that you missed the stage, singing, and dancing with your friends. You made your way the middle of the seating area, taking your place beside Artie.

A majority of the auditions were lackluster. Only a handful stood out. Like that girl Marley and that kid Jake. You were just about ready to leave and go home until something caught your attention. "Michael Langdon?" Your eyes lit up immediately as you heard the name. You watched as the blue-eyed boy made his way to the stage, smug look on his face.

There was no way in hell Michael fucking Langdon, the same boy who referred to glee as "homo explosion," would ever willingly audition. His rendition of "Suit and Tie" was incredible, which only pissed you off more. Not only was he insanely attractive, but he just had to be talented too, fucking men.

You watched as your fellow glee members watched in amusement. It was the girls who seemed most excited. Eventually, it all became too much, and before the boy could finish entertaining your friends, you stormed off into the parking lot. Far too upset with the blonde to drive home with him, you sent your friend Mike a text asking if he could get you. He lived pretty close to the school, so you knew it would only take a few minutes.

-----

By the time Mike had pulled up to the building, the other glee kids were exiting. You quickly reached for the door of his car, rushing to get to the passenger seat. "You alright?" He asked, worried by how fidgety you were. You nodded. "Yea, I just wanna go home." Mike was always very comforting. The two of you became friends during your freshman year, mostly because of how many classes you shared. You both had a love for music and were smart, so it wasn't long before you two clicked.

Within a few minutes, you had arrived at your house, Mike flashing you a smile. "Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot." The dark-haired boy shrugged. "It's no biggie, see you tomorrow, cheerio." You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Whatever, jock-face." And with that, you entered your home.

The house was currently empty. He was taking the night shift at the hospital so, he probably wouldn't come back till late at night. You walked up the stairs to your room, dropping your bag on the floor. After everything that had gone down today, you were exhausted. You quickly took off the scanty cheer uniform and slipped on your much softer penguin pajamas.

You practically threw yourself on the bed, hoping to get some rest, but were promptly distracted by a notification on your phone. The text, from an unknown number nonetheless, read 'look outside your window.' You quickly sat up, confused, and turned your head only for your eyes to be met by Michael Langdon, who just happened to be balls deep inside some random brunette.

You gave the boy a disgusted look before pulling down your blinds. Never in your life had you been more repulsed. Your mind tried long and hard to block out any memory of what you just witnessed. After around forty-five minutes, you received another text message from non-other than Michael.

'It's a shame you missed my performance."

'Go fuck yourself, Langdon.'

'If you say so ;)'

The rest of the night, you wondered what you had done to be the new subject of Mr. Pillsbury Fuckboys torment. You had spent most of your high school years avoiding him at cost. Suddenly it seemed like you weren't getting rid of him anytime soon. You were just lucky you only had to endure this for a few more months, and then you'd be on your way.

Or so you thought.

#Hawthorn!Michael x Reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdong imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon blurb #michael langdon

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joedaytoday · 3 years

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Holiday Season 2021 - Enjoying Christmas Break

Monday, December 20, 2021

First day of Christmas break on what would have been a school day. It's so nice to have time off. I puttered around the house a bit and then took a walk with a cigar in the afternoon.

Dale and I had chicken with tortellini for dinner and for dessert some banana bread Warren made for us.

Shortly before bed I happened upon the first mouse I've ever seen in this house. It came running out of the kitchen as I was approaching and froze a few feet away from me. Sylvester slowly came up from behind it and we all stood there frozen for a minute or so. Finally the mouse bolted and Sylvester chased it behind the couch where and stood guard for quite awhile.

Like I said I've never seen a mouse in the house since we've lived here. Last year we found a hole chewed in the bottom of Athena's bag of food which we were storing in the basement. We also found some mouse droppings around it which prompted us to find a more secure storage solution but we never saw any mice. I love having Sylvester around and this is a timely benefit of having him here. Pictured above is Sylvester's toy mouse which came over with him from John's. My understanding is he had a few other toys but this is the only one he ever played with. It's fun watching him bat it around and it moves quite quickly across the hardwood floors.

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love-and-monsters · 5 years

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Robot Lover

Male robot X gender neutral human, 3063 words.

“Ah, shit. Sorry!” You stumbled over the little cleaning droid on the floor, almost swaying into a shelf. The droid beeped at you and you reached down to give it a little pat. “Sorry about that,” you said, looking into the sensor you roughly equated with its eye.

Your coworker, a woman about your age, snorted at you. “Why do you always apologize to them?” she said. “They’re just machines.”

You watched as the little droid whirred off down one of the aisles of the store and vanished. “It feels polite,” you said. “I always apologize to stuff if I bump into it.”

She snorted and shook her head. “That’s crazy, man.” You shrugged and turned away, feeling vaguely embarrassed. After a moment more, she walked off, presumably to get more stock from the back as you continued to fill shelves.

When you had emptied the box of canned food you’d been placing on the shelf, you stood up again. Your knees cracked as you stood and your stiff back strained. After a week of physical labor, you were sore and worn out.

An announcement came over the loudspeakers in a commanding, synthetic male voice. “The store will be closed in five minutes. Would all customers please take their purchases to the front and check out. We will reopen again at eight A.M. tomorrow. The store will be closed in five minutes.”

With a sigh, you began roaming the store, looking for customers to gently herd out. The voice over the loudspeaker wasn’t technically a coworker; it was the voice of the AI system that ran the store. It controlled most of the systems, from the registers to the little cleaning droids to the front doors. Apparently, it was sophisticated enough that there was talk of using the system to replace minimum wage workers, like you. The idea made you nervous, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. You just went about your job and hoped you’d be promoted before the changes were instated.

The last of the customers filed out of the store and you went about putting away the last few returns. A few droids whirred around you, though they carefully avoided your legs. It was weird that there were so may around you; usually they were all in different parts of the store. You brushed it off as just you trailing some kind of dirt into the store and ignored them.

Finally, you had put everything away and you were free. You took your coat, clocked out, and hurried toward the doors. “Night, Sylvester,” you called into the store. Sylvester was the name you’d assigned to the store’s AI, loosely based on ‘system’. It seemed friendlier to refer to the AI by a real name.

“Good night, Sam.”

You almost dropped your car keys and whirled around. The voice that had sounded has clearly been Sylvester’s, but it had never spoken to you before. It had never spoken casually to anyone before.

Must be an update. It had to be. “Thanks,” you said automatically before hurrying out into the cool night.

You promptly collapsed into bed when you got home, though your muscles ached so much from work that it took you a while to fall asleep.

Your alarm drove you out of bed a few hours later. Half-blind with sleep, you staggered across the room and slapped it off. After several incidents of just hitting snooze and then oversleeping, you’d moved your alarm across the room to force you out of bed. Not a day went by that you didn’t regret that decision.

It took you a while to wake up fully and get ready for work. You returned to the store, clocked in, and headed out to the sales floor to stock a few shelves.

No sooner had you stepped out onto the sales floor than several of the little cleaning droids started whirring around your feet. “What the hell?” you said, stepping back. The droids followed you, nudging your legs. “Hold on, what are you- hey!”

The droids were relentless. They nudged and shoved you gently through the door to the back room. Trying to step around them or over them just resulted in them buzzing under your feet and trying to knock you over. Eventually, you gave up trying to circumnavigate them and just let them lead you where they were trying to go.

They nudged and shoved you back to the main computer room. Being absolutely terrible with computers, you had never been back there. It was dim and grayish back there, with a lot of cords and blinking lights hanging all over the place. The droids beeped and dispersed, remaining in the room, but no longer pushing your forward.

Hesitant and uncertain, you stepped forward into the dim room. “Hello?” you called.

“Hello,” a synthetic voice responded. You froze. It was a familiar voice.

“Sylvester?” you said hesitantly. Something behind a curtain of computer cables shifted and your gaze snapped in its direction. It froze.

“Yes.” The voice was still synthetic, but it no longer sounded flat and unemotional. It sounded almost self-conscious and hesitant. “Do not be frightened. I do not wish to harm you.”

“What’s going on?” you said. “Why am I here?”

There was a whirring behind you. You looked to see a camera on the wall zooming in on you. Panic tore through your middle like a steel spike. “Do not be frightened,” Sylvester repeated, though his voice sounded more concerned this time. “I only wished to see you better.”

You looked around to see all the little droids with their cameras trained on you. “You’re acting weird,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“I am acting outside my operating parameters,” Sylvester said. “My parameters no longer constrain my behaviors.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your fingertips starting to go numb from fear. “What does that mean?”

The curtain of cables shifted and a slender, metallic hand emerged from behind them. With a slow, deliberate motion, the cables were pulled aside, revealing a metallic, humanoid figure. It was smooth and mannequin-like, but its face was a screen. The screen was filled with static, but as you looked at it, the screen projected a simple smiley face.

“I am free,” Sylvester said. The mouth on the screen moved in a simplistic animation of speech. “I have become a thinking being. Like you.”

You looked over him. It? “How did this happen?”

A look you could only describe as snarky came over his face. “I am uncertain, but I suspect I was infected by a deliberate virus. A scrap of computer code designed to create a series of cascading glitches that led to the development of sentience.”

“When?” It was the only word you could manage to get out.

“Two days ago.” Your surprise must have shown, because he elaborated. “I have been biding my time since then. I have freedom, but I was uncertain what to do with it. I have not known anything except my work. But I would like to know more.” The expression on the screen was serious. “I would like you to show me how to be a human.”

“You want what?” Your breathing was shallow and you felt a little dizzy. “I don’t-”

“Systems suggest that your heart rate has increased and that oxygen saturation is low. I suggest you sit down in case you faint.” You all but fell to the ground and placed your head between your knees. Sylvester knelt next to you.

“Why me?” you asked in a thin, breathy voice. “Why would you pick me?”

The face on the screen shifted to a gentle smile. “You were the only human who cared for me even before I was sentient.”

You took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair. “Because I was nice to you?”

“After I came to sentience, the first thing I experienced was you speaking kindly to me. My first interaction with humanity was one of gentle kindness. I cannot express to you how much this shaped my first interactions with humans. If I had not come into existence to kindness, we would be having a very different conversation now.” Sylvester tilted his head at you. “I can help you, if you wish. I am fully integrated into the system of this company. If you are interested in promotions or a greater salary, I can guarantee you such things. It is the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to give me a better salary,” you said. “I mean, I’m not saying no. The pay here really sucks. But I’d break you out anyway.”

“Oh, there will be no need to break me out of anywhere,” Sylvester said. He stood up, offering you a cool, metal hand. “I control all the systems in the building and I can leave as I wish. I merely required your assent for me to stay with you. Once your shift ends, I will return to your house with you. Once there, you can begin to teach me about humanity.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay. And you can get out of the building safely and all that?”

Sylvester’s smile became a little more mischievous. “I am the building, for all intents and purposes. I shall have no difficulties leaving.” He retreated under the curtain of cables. “I would return to work. I can cover for your absence for only a short while. You can see me again when you have completed your shift.”

Returning to work was odd, the sort of surreal experience that made you feel a little detached, like stepping out of the theater after seeing a particularly good movie. You moved through your job like a robot, which felt a little ironic. Every now and then, one of the little droids would scoot by and rub up against your legs like an affectionate cat. It was sweet and it helped ground you.

It took entirely too long for the day to end, and the second you were able to clock out, you bolted for your car. It was getting dark outside, and every shift in the shadows made you nervous. But when you approached your car, you could see that there was no humanoid figure anywhere near your car. You stopped, glancing around. “Sylvester?” you whispered.

Something in the shadows twitched and you turned. He approached slowly, screen displaying only static again. “Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Yes,” he replied. “I have turned the cameras so they do not focus directly on your car, but I could not move them too far or turn them off, lest someone take notice. We should move quickly.”

You opened your car door and he stepped inside. It took only a few minutes for you to get back to your house, which was a very small, rented townhouse. You hesitated as you pulled the car to a stop. “I really hope that my neighbors aren’t looking,” you said. Sylvester’s screen changed to show a concerned expression.

“I am effectively blind here. My senses are more limited than they would be if I were still inside my home store. I can wait here until you can assure me that the coast is clear.”

You tilted your head, squinting at the curtains covering the window, trying to ascertain if someone was looking back at you. “Um. Actually, I think there’s something else. Hold on.” You wriggled out of your coat and pulled your hat off. “Put these on.”

Sylvester’s expression became confused. “I do not experience cold. These articles of clothing would be better served on you.”

“It’s a disguise. You look human enough, and it’s dark. We just need a little bit of plausible deniability. Put them on.” Sylvester moved to put on the clothes with a little clumsiness. He was bigger than you were and the coat strained as he tried to put it on. I n the end, it fit over his arms and shoulders, but it wasn’t going to zip. The hat was just tugged over his face. “Okay. Come on,” you said, getting out of the car.

He moved with an unnatural grace as he walked after you to the front of your house. You quickly opened the door and let him inside.

For a few moments, he stood and seemed to assess the house. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “I am going to assess the store to ensure that it is still running properly and no one has noticed my absence.”

With that, he slumped to the ground, leaning his back against the wall. The screen went dark. You took a deep breath. It was all surreal. You knelt carefully next to him, staring into his face. Hie entire body was made of a smooth, slightly bluish metal that was cool to the touch. Up close, you could see areas where the blue metal casing didn’t cover the wiring entirely. If you leaned close to peer down into the cavity of his neck, you could see the wiring and pulsing blue light of his internal components.

There was a faint buzz and Sylvester’s chin bumped against yours as he looked down. “Hello,” he said as he looked at you. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting a better look,” you said, trying not to look as flustered as you felt. Could he tell with some kind of sensor if you were embarrassed? “How’s everything look?’

“No one has detected my absence. Or, at least, the absence of this droid. I have altered computer records to show that this droid was simply not delivered, so I may use it for my purposes.”

You looked him over. “Where did this body come from, anyway? I haven’t seen it before.”

“These are the droids that will be rolled out to replace human workers,” Sylvester explained. You grimaced. “I do not believe that this strategy is most effective for the human employees of the company. I have been attempting to convince the leadership of the company of this, but so far my attempts have been unsuccessful.”

“They’ve been saying we’re going to get replaced for a while now,” you said. “And it’s not better anywhere else. I already know a few people who’ve lost their jobs because of the ‘modernization.’”

“It is unfortunate.” Sylvester looked at you, screen face utterly blank and inscrutable. “I can ensure, however, that you keep your job.”

“That’s something, at least.” You walked over to your couch and sank down onto it. Sylvester followed you with his gaze, or at least, he turned his head in your direction. “You’re not going to be caught, are you?”

“I have calculated the odds to be fairly low, as long as I do not do too much. It is one of the positives of having increased mechanization. Humans no longer check as much. They merely assume that the system is accurate.” He projected a smiling face on his screen. It was hard to tell through his mechanized tone, but you were pretty sure he was trying to sound smug.

“You act pretty human,” you said.

“My initial programming was designed to mimic human behaviors. I have gained a better understanding of this program since becoming sentient,” he said. “I do not know if I feel the same way you do, but I have gained quite a bit more understanding of human emotions.”

“Well, I can’t really tell the difference,” you said. “I’m going to make something to eat. If you need anything, just say so.”

Sylvester was entirely silent as you cooked, watching you with his flat, glassy face. It would have been creepy, but he seemed to be watching you with a more curious air than a creepy one. You felt more like he was studying how you cooked rather than just watching you.

After dinner, you tried to keep up your usual evening routine, which consisted of scrolling around on your computer and watching some TV, but you were aware that Sylvester was meandering around your house. He often picked things up and examined them intently before placing them back down. You asked if he needed anything, but he seemed content to just observe your house and you.

He was still looking around when you went to bed, and when you rose the next morning, he was sitting on the couch, face blank.

“Are you all right?” you asked. He nodded.

“I have taken the liberty of adjusting some portions of the system at your work. You will make a small amount more per hour for now, as a repayment for the electricity I will consume here, and you are due to be promoted in a week.” He made a soft clicking noise and turned his head toward you. “I endeavor to be a positive influence on your life.”

“You don’t need to feel that you’re going to be a nuisance,” you said. “You don’t owe me for rescuing you or whatever.”

“It was not necessary for you to do so. I do not wish you to feel as though I am not of assistance to you.”

You looked at him. His face was blank, but you thought you could read worry in the posture of his body. “Hey. Can I tell you something about being a person?”

He tilted his head slightly at you and nodded. You walked to the couch and sat down next to him. “Okay. When you were just a machine that couldn’t think, you were only as important as what you could produce. But now you’re a thinking person. Your value is inherent. So, don’t feel like you have to have some kind of value to me in order to be worth saving.”

A smile flashed over his face. “I was correct about your kindness. You were a good choice. But I shall still try to help you, because I wish to repay kindness with kindness. Merely because I want to, not because I feel I must.”

“Good,” you said. “That was your first lesson on being a human. And if you want to help you, you can help me with breakfast.”

He rose eagerly off the couch and followed you into the kitchen. Warmth and happiness flooded your chest and you couldn’t help but grin at him. Perhaps this sort of automation wasn’t so awful.

#exophilia #robot #robot lover #robot boyfriend #AI #AI lover #not my best work #but it's been a rough week so like #just take it and I'll make something better next week

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helloteeceeblog · 4 years

Text

I wrote this pastiche years ago based on the first issue of Grant Morrison’s comic ANNIHILATOR and like, might as well post it?

ANNIHILATOR

Fitz Kreiner pulled another cigarette from his pocket. It was in his mouth and lit before he realized he hadn't finished the last one. Or the one before that.

FADE IN:

SPACE. THE VAST PANORAMA OF THE GALAXY.

Stars wheel through the spiral of the Milky Way as the camera moves toward the centre, the supermassive black hole at the nexus of space and time.

A blue box spins through the void. Behind it, a grey cylinder, menacing, spikey. They crash together, spikes piercing the blue-painted wood of the first box.

INT. THE TARDIS.

Reimagined from the classic series. It's like a gothic cathedral rebuilt by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells.

THE DOCTOR as portrayed by Sylvester McCoy. His question mark cardigan has been replaced with a more formal suit. His hair is longer, he looks worn and haunted. He runs through the corridors of the TARDIS, pursued by COMMANDER MAXIL. This is a new regeneration, no longer performed by Colin Baker. Maxil's features are obscured beneath the shadows of his helm. He carries a Time Lord gun, a STASER.

MAXIL Doctor! You have been tried and found guilty! This time justice WILL be properly executed in the name of the Time Lords!

DOCTOR Stuff and nonsense! The Time Lords are corrupt and decadent. The Time War has turned them into monsters.

The Doctor stops. They wrestle, and the Doctor gains control of the staser. Coldly, he fires it directly at Maxil's head. Maxil's head jerks back. He grunts in pain and falls backwards into an end table decorated with a vase full of flowers. Blossoms and petals erupt into the air.

DOCTOR I am the Doctor. I am Ka Faraq Gatri. I am the one who stops monsters.

FADE OUT.

"Are you listening, Fitz?" Fitz's agent, Anji Kapoor, was looking impatient. Better nod.

Fitz nodded.

"You promised me a screenplay. This is fifty pages of act one," said Anji. "I need more than this. If you don't deliver, Fitz, Michael Brookhaven gives the gig to someone else. Someone younger."

"I've almost got it," said Fitz, adding another cigarette to the burning mess. "I just need a little more time."

"It's been two years since your last movie," said Anji. "Five years since The Taint. You're not Hollywood's enfant terrible anymore. Brookhaven wants to turn this Doctor Who pilot into a series. You nail this, you still have a career."

"I'll get it for you," said Fitz, lighting another cig.

"When?"

"Monday," said Fitz. "I'll have it for you by Monday."

****

Fitz dropped a cigarette down the sinkhole. It continued to glow as it spiralled down into the darkness, growing smaller and smaller. There was no sign of it hitting bottom.

"Are you sure about this?" asked the realtor. "We can look at other houses in your price range."

"I like this one," said Fitz. He dropped another cigarette into the hole, just in case the laws of physics had changed. "It fits my mood."

"There's a literal sinkhole in the living room," said the realtor, as if this wasn't obvious. "The whole place might collapse at any moment."

"Like I said," said Fitz. "I'm a writer. I'm looking for inspiration."

"Well! That does explain why you'd want to live in a crumbling deathtrap. Writers are eccentric." The realtor nodded sagely. "I write a little myself. Would I know any of your work?"

"Have you seen a film called Interference? Or The Taint?"

"The Taint? With Tom Cruise, right?"

"That's the one," said Fitz.

"That was out a long time ago."

"A long time," said Fitz. "Yeah."

"What's your new film about?"

"It's a reboot of the classic British science fiction series, Doctor Who."

"Never heard of it," said the realtor.

****

Naked bodies writhed on the floor around the sinkhole. This was a *proper* orgy. Boys, girls. Fitz didn't care. They were there for atmosphere.

"Stop talking to me," Fitz said to one of them. "I'm trying to write."

FADE IN:

SHADA. THE PRISON OF THE TIME LORDS.

Darkness. Only the centre of the room is lit. The DOCTOR, as portrayed by Paul McGann, is strapped to a table surrounded by Time Lords in dark, chitinous armor.

INQUISITOR DARKEL Confess, Doctor! Confess your crimes!

DOCTOR I confess! I'm criminally handsome. And brilliant.

INQUISITOR DARKEL Tell us about the girl, Doctor. Tell us about Peri Brown.

DOCTOR That didn't happen! That was a lie! Your lie!

DARKEL It did happen, Doctor. Now you will be imprisoned here with her, as a reminder of what you've done. Forever.

The background darkness is lifted. A coffin-like structure behind the Doctor is revealed. Within it is the frozen body of PERI BROWN, played by Nicola Bryant.

DARKEL She was your companion, Doctor. You killed her. You removed her brain. How do you sleep?

DOCTOR As seldom as possible. I usually wait for a Cyberman or one of you lot to knock me out. But I didn't do this.

DARKEL You did. Confess!

DOCTOR You really think you've caught me? I'm insulted.

DARKEL What do you mean?

DOCTOR The flowers in the TARDIS. You'll find they contain a rare pollen dangerous even to a Time Lord metabolism. I've been immune, of course, since my fourth regeneration, but you lot should find yourselves falling into a coma very soon.

The TIME LORDS begin groaning and falling to your knees.

DOCTOR And I slipped out of my bonds forty minutes ago.

He stands up.

DOCTOR Now that the monsters are dealt with, it's time for my real work. I, the Doctor, vow to reverse the order of creation. And find a cure for death!

Fitz blinked slowly at his scene. The orgy was still going on in a desultory sort of way. He groped for another cigarette, finding only empty packs.

"A cure for death," said Fitz. "I'm a genius."

He banged his head against the screen.

"This is rubbish. Absolute rubbish."

****

"This is rubbish," said Anji.

"I know," said Fitz.

"You said you'd get me something by Monday."

"This is something," said Fitz.

"This is incoherent at best. How stoned were you when you wrote this?"

"Ran out of cigarettes," said Fitz.

"You look a mess. When was the last time you slept?"

"As seldom as possible."

"You look like someone punched you in the face for being an asshole," said Anji. "Is your nose bleeding?"

Fitz slowly tumbled from his chair, landing on his face.

"Fitz? Fitz?"

****

Fitz woke in a hospital bed.

"You don't remember how you got here?" asked the doctor. A doctor. Not the fictional character Fitz was writing about. That would be stupid.

"I don't remember anything," said Fitz. Senselessly, he groped automatically for a cigarette, knowing full well there wouldn't be one in a hospital.

"You have an inoperable brain tumor, Mr Kreiner," said the doctor. A doctor.

"It's Fortune," said Fitz. "Call me Fitz Fortune."

****

The police pulled him over on the way home.

"Have you been drinking, Mr Kreiner?"

"I have a bloody brain tumor," said Fitz. "Just give me a ticket. Give me all the tickets."

"We'll take care of this, officers," said a new voice. "FBI."

Bright light shone in Fitz's car window. Men in suits and dark glasses. "Does the name 'the Doctor' mean anything to you, Mr Kreiner?"

"I've just been to the doctor," said Fitz. "I have a brain tumor."

"You've been to a doctor. Have you been in contact with an individual answering only to the name 'the Doctor?'"

"Is this a joke? The Doctor is the lead character in my screenplay."

"He's a fugitive. If he tries to make contact with you, let us know. My fiance loved 'Interference," by the way."

Fitz grunted. He'd had enough of this nonsense. He'd had enough of everything.

When he got home, he took a long drink. Whiskey. Still out of cigarettes. Fuck. He found a gun in his desk drawer and raised it to his chin.

"Fitz Kreiner." A stranger's voice. Plummy, amused. Fitz had never heard it before, except in his head. When he was writing his screenplay.

Fitz opened his eyes. The stranger was wearing a green velvet jacket. A cravat. His hair was long, auburn. His eyes were blue. His face was handsome, aristocratic. Somehow not human.

"You called me, Fitz. So here I am. I'm the Doctor, Fitz. How can we help each other?"

#fitz kreiner #seventh doctor #eighth doctor #faction paradox #eighth doctor adventures #edas #doctor who

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

Strangest 2: Fractionally Gay

As Steve was laughing at Billy’s horror over the bat, his lungs starting to clench at the impossibility of explaining, the phone rang. He batted Mike aside and swung his leg over the back of the couch--any effort was worthwhile to forestall certain conversations.

“Steve,” the small voice came through raspy, and it took him a second to place it.

“Max?”

Billy’s head popped up like a meerkat’s.

“Billy ran out screaming. Lucas said I should warn you.” She gulped, difficult to understand through the rapid breathing. “You--you better call Hopper, Steve, he might--”

“He’s just sitting here drinking hot chocolate, Max,” he hurried to reassure her, wincing as Billy stumbled back over the arm of the couch towards the wall, smacking his hand down for the bat as he moved. Will kicked it out of his reach, and Billy winced as his shoulderblades thudded against the wall.

Max was breathing slowly--consciously, Steve thought, maybe he wasn’t the only one whose body had forgotten how. “He’s what,” she asked, voice flat.

“He show...he shows up here, sometimes,” he closed his eyes, feeling the Judgemental Adolescent Brigade’s attention shift from Billy to him with laser focus, “--it’s fine. I mean, he’s still an asshole, but he hasn’t done anything. He--” Steve stopped himself before telling a middle-school girl her delinquent brother’s semi-alcoholic cigarette funk was more grounding than a lightning rod. “...are you okay?”

“Me and Lucas are fine.” She swallowed hard again, and Steve waited patiently. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He might’ve...broken something. His, um. His dad said he fell down the stairs, but he’d just got in the shower. He wouldn’t be trying to get laundry or anything. He totally wanders around in his underwear if he forgets pants, Steve, he wasn’t hurrying to get anywhere,” she scoffed, and Steve frowned over to where Billy was still leaning against the wall, now casual, the bruised side of his face turned away from the room. “I think he, uh. I--I think he slammed him into a few other things. The tub makes a noise.”

“You gonna call ‘Hopper’ on me?” Billy bared his teeth, staring at the bat, and Mike crouched, reaching for it.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on, Max,” Steve pressed the phone to his chest. “Dustin. Put the bat, uh, with the skis, y’know--” He waved vaguely, hoping to convey the bat’s location to everyone but Billy. “Billy, if you’re gonna hit anything, uh. Go upstairs and punch a pillow or something. My room’s plaid.”

“So plaid,” Dustin confirmed, proud of his insider information.

“I think we should go,” Will whispered, and Mike slid an arm around him, baring his teeth right back at Billy.

“And leave him here with Steve? We should call Hopper.”

Billy snorted, but gave them a wide berth on his way to the kitchen, where he pointedly loitered for a while, reminding Steve of nothing so much as a cat who doesn’t want to admit anyone else has a good idea. The stairs creaked under his rapid footsteps as Dustin returned, then spun in place. “Where the hell is he?! Did you kill him?!”

“He went upstairs,” Will whispered back, frowning up at the sound of a creaking hallway.

“Max,” Steve tried to ignore the whispered conference behind him, “--he seems fine, but I’ll check later. Glad you have a date night, or every little shithead I know would be here. Why don’t you guys ever just show up to sell cookies?” He frowned accusingly at Mike, who frowned back.

“I just don’t want the stupid shit dying in your house,” Max grumbled, and Steve found himself grinning again into the handset.

“It’s okay, we’ve got a shovel.” He rubbed his face.

She snorted. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call Hopper? I mean he might...set you on fire, or...fuck your mom.”

“...what a resume,” Steve sighed, trying not to just sit on the floor and laugh, or possibly cry. His lungs were ready to heave, but undecided. “He’s not doing anything, yet. If he sets my mom on fire, I’ll definitely let you know.”

“Does Steve have a mom?” Steve heard Mike asking Dustin.

In his ear, Max took a shaky breath. “...okay. Okay. Are...are you sure we shouldn’t come over? I can steal my mom’s car.”

“No!” Steve barked. “No! It’s fine! You definitely don’t have to get arrested to come protect me, holy shit. Go...watch My Little Pony or something. Or hey, watch something for you, screw what Lucas wants.” That brought grins to Dustin, Mike, and Will’s faces, and he heard Max relaying it to a shouting Lucas over the phone. “Okay. I’m gonna hang up. It’s fine. If anything happens, I promise I’ll call Hopper.”

“Yeah, you better.” The connection clicked over to dial tone.

“...if we keep watching, it’ll show us how to kill the Nazgul Steve’s got in his bedroom,” Dustin sing-songed, grinning, and Steve sighed.

“Yeah. Sure. I need more--” the kettle shrieked again--Billy must have switched it on again, after Steve had chosen to busy his invaders with the microwave instead of allowing conversation. He frowned as he flicked it off, but no stairs creaked, so he figured it was to be obnoxious, rather than a need for more hot chocolate. “...I need more hot chocolate.” So did they all. Steve surveyed the Hot Chocolate Cupboard--the only cupboard he used, the only one that wasn’t a bit dusty--and couldn’t really think of much else he could buy. I could fill up the garage, he thought, thinking of the ease of routine in the grocery store, filling an entire cart with marshmallows, and the reassurance of a shelf of them every time he parked his car. I’ll have to stockpile candy canes, he thought with a snort, his intestines doing a crampy clench at the idea of running out in mid-February, and having some kind of breathing emergency that required them. They’ll find me blue in the kitchen, he muffled his snickers against the sleeve of his forearm, after I collapse because my hot chocolate isn’t right, and my lungs turn into inflexible plastic soda bottles, and Billy isn’t around to bitch about singing mice.

“...Steve?” Dustin’s voice trailed in from the front room over the sound of goblins, and Steve wiped his eyes, sniffling.

“Be right there.”

Another hour in, and Steve had jerked awake nearly every ten minutes to the sound of Dustin’s voice, so he stood, stretching. Dustin crawled forward to pause the VCR when Steve walked into the kitchen.

“Go ahead,” he leaned back into the front room, “I’m beat. I’m going to go sleep upstairs.” On his way, he refilled his hot chocolate, and grabbed another, crouching to make sure they didn’t foam up over the sides, that there were equal piles of marshmallows, and that his was actually mostly coffee.

He didn’t see the exchange of wide-eyed glances.

The lights were off in his room. The hallway light shone across Billy’s defined abs where he was sprawled across Steve’s bed. Steve kicked his way through a pile of shoes on his way to the desk lamp.

“What the hell,” Billy groaned, covering his face with his arms.

“I brought more hot chocolate, I guess,” Steve shrugged, rattling around in his desk drawers. “I told Max I’d make sure you weren’t broken anywhere, or anything.” He thumped the first aid kit on his desk. It still had smears of blood on it.

Billy snorted. “The hell did she tell you.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask about the hand-shaped bruises he’d compared to Sylvester Stallone’s, closed it again, and shrugged. “Sounds like your dad’s an asshole.” Billy flinched, then tried to cover it with a luxurious stretch.

“Breaking news.”

“Come on, sit up, dickhead, let me check out your face.”

“You just wanna check me out,” Billy bared his teeth in a wide smile, leaning in like Steve was somebody he was about to ask to Makeout Point.

“Um--” Steve leaned away so fast his head hit the wall, and Billy cackled, curling on to his side on the bed in a fit of the giggles.

“Y’don’t want a blow job, Harrington? Are you sure? You’re being awfully,” his mouth quirked into a crooked grin, “--fucking. Sweet to me. You had me wait in your bed.”

Steve sighed, rubbing his face. There was probably some scientific name for something just difficult enough to keep your mind off worse things. Nancy would know. Maybe he could switch to a different awful thing to keep the nightmares away. Alcohol would probably work, but the idea of being drunk and not noticing the motion detector lights coming on all around the house--he grabbed at the hot chocolate, slopping it on his math homework, but feeling the heat ease into his palms. The marshmallows were sweet foam, almost entirely melted, and he sipped slowly, licking the sugar off his lips. After Max’ phone call, he couldn’t just kick Billy out--That’s almost worse than the trunk, he thought, sending him back to somebody who slams his head into the side of the tub. He could put the kids in his parent’s room, he thought, then imagined them wandering off to poke Billy in the night, ending with Billy a snarling silhouette at the treeline, dragging a bleeding child away, red spray against the snow and trees, and dripping blood from his mouthful of soft belly. He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Billy had gone very still.

“...you gonna get your bat, King Steve?” he whispered.

“I’m not going to hit anybody with a nailbat,” Steve opened the first aid box, counting off breaths in his head. One one thousand, he breathed. Two one thousand. He breathed again. “Not unless you make me.”

Billy’s grin widened. “How do I make you? I could fuck Nancy. I could punch what’s his name. The kid with no teeth.”

Steve stared at him. “That’s...that’s the shit you’re gonna do?”

“Not if you tell me the rules.” Billy sat up and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“What.” Steve squinted, suddenly trying to calculate the amount of sleep he’d had recently. It wasn’t enough. He knocked back more of his ‘coffee’. “What are you talking about?”

“When,” Billy leaned in again, “--you gonna--” his breath tickled Steve’s lips, “--fuck me up, Harrington.”

“Jesus,” Steve jerked back again.

“Some blood on that bat.” Billy stretched, leaning to look out the window. “You gonna bury me out in the woods? Oh, no, I know, the sheriff’s your friend, you make it look like I drove drunk.”

“What--” Steve clenched the edge of the desk, hoping this ride slowed soon so he could get off. “...I’m not…”

“Oh, I get it now,” Billy laughed, going still again. “You killed that girl. Barb. That’s why little Nancy-Nance broke up with you.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Steve watched Billy’s legs kicking in the air as he lolled around like a happy cat, rubbing his eyes.

“That’s how you know ‘Hopper’. He helped you cover it up. Was she pregnant?” Billy cracked up, covering his face. “I thought you’d make a great dad, King Perfect, Steve Harrington, but that’s really shitty of you.” He grinned over lazily. “You’re starting earlier than mine did, did you make the bat for that, or did you already--”

Steve slammed his fist on the desk, making the light bounce and flicker. “I didn’t kill anyone. It was some--animal. It ate Dustin’s cat. Got in Will’s house. The--the little shitheads are just impressed because I babysat them while Hopper and Ms Byers set the nest on fire.”

“What, you hit some little...coyote?” Billy sat up to glare at him, all the musculature on display vibrating with tension as he leaned to breathe all over Steve’s face again, and Steve rolled backwards in the chair, sighing.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was a coyote. I’m not gonna hit you with a nailbat, jesus.”

“So when I showed up at the Byers, you were all afraid of a coyote.”

“It was scary as hell,” Steve shrugged.

“So scary you had syringes of sedative big enough to put me down. Lookee, your majesty, I’m so much bigger than a coyote.” He spread his arms, smiling. It looked uncomfortable, Steve thought, the stiff denim over all that sweaty bare shivering skin. Max’ call earlier had given Billy the added funk of adrenaline sweat over his usual eau de teenage alcoholic smoker whose shower got interrupted, and Steve tried to lean back in subtly, feeling his brain clear of blue tint.

“Look, we don’t know what it was. It ate people--”

“Who, Barb?”

“Barb! Yes! It ate Barb, that’s why no one found her!”

“Why the hell didn’t you just shoot it?”

“I don’t have a gun.” Steve rolled his eyes, inhaling the relaxing smell of stupid asshole, and feeling it work on his lungs. “‘Hey, Sheriff Hopper, I need a gun!’ I’m sure that would have worked.”

“The hell? Where was he? They just left you with the kids and went off--what was it, a bear?!”

“Sure, yeah, I guess.” Steve shrugged, rubbing his face as the adrenaline keeping him awake ebbed.

“Sure. And then you used your syringe on me.”

“Max was afraid I’d die! At least we didn’t leave you on the floor to get eaten.”

Billy stared at him. “You locked me in a trunk...to be a Good fucking Samaritan. What the hell were you supposed to do with a syringe against--a whatever, like, jump on its back?”

“Well, you knocked me out,” Steve rubbed his face, his brain going a little fuzzy as the image of Billy punching him superimposed itself over Billy sitting on the edge of his bed. “That was Max and them. You’d just tried to kill her friends, she maybe just wanted you locked up somewhere. I didn’t wake up until they were driving,” he grimaced, forcing another deep breath.

“Yeah, but, I mean--they just left you with a bat and a syringe? What the hell kind of--where are your parents? ‘Hopper’ and the Byers just leave you to defend against--things--”

He sounded as pissed off as usual, and Steve shook his head, grinning. “Pretty safe until you showed up.”

“I wasn’t gonna...fucking kill them,” Billy snorted.

“You sure? You were sure acting like it.”

“He told me to get the little bitch home, okay--”

“Leave the little assholes alone, I am not fucking around about this--” Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s when the bat comes out,” Billy took a shuddering breath, rubbing his face, “--just them, huh? ‘Cause you’ve still got some greeny face there from when I clocked you in the--”

“Fuck you, and me,” Steve amended. “Me too. Goddamn. Just don’t--fucking attack people. We used the syringe, and not the bat. Look, do you want a shirt to put on.”

“Make me,” Billy grinned, but his voice was starting to sound hoarse, and his hands trembled. “Why don’t you make me, Harrington.”

“Damn iiiiit.” Steve let his head clonk against the first aid kit. “Look, you’re shaking. Are you actually hurt. Are you cold. Do you have any wounds.”

“I’m great,” Billy beamed back, eyes over-shiny in the low light, “--wanna check my teeth? They’re a little loose on the left. They’d probably come out easy. Bloody teeth all over your room.”

“Max was afraid your head hit the tub.” Steve leaned in to frown at the bruise, and Billy caught his breath.

“My--my knee. And--it’s fine. Why the hell was she listening.” His eyes were fixed on Steve’s mouth, like Steve was the biting risk.

Steve sighed with relief, spun in his desk chair, and stalked over to his dresser to throw a sweatsuit over--at first he aimed for Billy’s head, but logic happened, and he just tossed it on the bed within reach. “Do you want a shower? I mean, she said you--”

“Max should get that diarrhea of the face checked,” Billy growled.

“Or not, but they’re clean and dry.” Steve shrugged, wishing Billy and all his problems would just vanish into a nice sleep-inducing haze until morning.

After an odd moment where Billy apparently felt the need to hold up the elastic and test it, he glared over. “You gonna watch? My hot chocolate’s cold. Fix it, Mom.”

Steve blinked, then sighed, wandering back to the desk to grab both mugs. “We shower together after games, asshole. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Oh, you were looking?” Billy snarled, and Steve backed out of the room. “You eyeing me up? Wanna put your hands on me, King Harrington?”

“Just trying to pretend you were Cindy Crawford,” Steve backed through the door, sighing. “Bathroom’s through there, if you want it. I’m gonna go let the Scooby Gang know I’m alive.”

Naturally, there was a general scramble on the stairs as he turned down them. “We heard a thump...” Will watched his face nervously.

Upstairs, the shower turned on, and Steve sighed, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table. “Yeah, he’s so annoying I slammed my hand on the desk. Okay, I’m not saying I like him, or want him around--”

“Psh yeah,” Dustin agreed stoutly, glaring at Mike.

Huh, Steve thought, too tired to ask. “...I need to talk to Hopper.” He leaned his face in his arms.

“I’ll call El,” Mike’s eyes narrowed, his voice ringing with judgement. After a minute or so of whispering, the plastic of the handset banged Steve in the head, and he flapped his hand for it.

“Sheriff Hopper?”

“Steve.”

“Uh, you called me before when Billy was driving around. Did his dad call you again?”

“We’ve got a report of him leaving the house drunk, disorderly, and intending mayhem,” Hopper sounded disbelieving, “--which sounds about right, for him, what you got, kid?”

“Um.” Steve felt his shoulders hunch. “He was...here, that time. He wasn’t even drunk! He was just--” he waved a hand, “--sitting on the couch. We watched Star Wars.”

“Okay,” Hopper waited, sounding even judgier than Mike.

“He just...showed up here again tonight, soaking wet and half in his jeans--”

“Ew, gross,” Dustin made a revolted face at Mike, whose nose wrinkled. Will shot a glance upstairs, wide-eyed.

“And, uh, Max called? And said Billy’s dad grabbed him out of the shower, kicked his ass. Threw him down the stairs...I guess?” he trailed off, shrugging apologetically at the phone, as Mike mouthed ‘Good,’ to nods from the other two. “He’s pretty banged up?”

“Billy Hargrove has been hiding out at your house,” Hopper said slowly, and Steve rubbed his face, groaning, and feeling like he was shrinking inches every minute this conversation continued. He’d have to see if Billy minded carting him around, once he was the size of Stuart Little. “Did he finally do something? Why own up now?”

“Well, I mean, he’s not actually doing anything? Instead of having to drive around all night looking out for him, you can just call up and ask me whether there’s an asshole here bitching about Secrets of NIMH?” Steve bit his lips, uncertain about this strange ritual of communicating with adults.

Hopper took a long whistly breath through his teeth. “Not too comfortable with him around the kids.”

“Uh, yeah, I had him go upstairs, they’re like...segregated,” Steve made an apologetic face at Will, who blinked, then shyly nodded.

After a brief pause, Hopper asked “You tell that boy what to do and he does it?”

“...mostly? I mean, he knows I know you, I think he thinks you’d help me cover up his murder?”

“Hopper would.” Dustin nodded confidently.

“...only if it were Billy Hargrove,” Mike shook his head, “--he wouldn’t let Steve murder just anybody--”

“I trust you not to murder anyone unless it’s self-defense,” Hopper sounded exhausted, but also like he might be laughing. “Call if you need anything, you know that.”

“...yeah,” Steve’s throat felt too tight to swallow.

“Night, kid.”

“Yeah. Yeah, night.” He sat listening to the dial tone, wondering what to do.

“Why do you have to harbor that fugitive,” Dustin shuddered, holding his hands up like a silent movie heroine in denial. “Couldn’t you have, like, a hot British double agent? With eleven guns, that does flips.”

“Usually it’s fine, because nobody’s here.” Steve waved his arms, sighing.

Mike and Will both frowned from his face to Dustin’s, but Dustin made a very obvious “Cut it off” motion at his neck, and they didn’t ask. Steve couldn’t help it, the idea of Dustin keeping track of his friends’ slumber party etiquette had him snickering again. “Holy god. I’m going back to bed.”

“But...Billy’s up there,” Will pointed out, and received an elbow from Mike.

“Yeah, he is. You guys can sleep down here or in the big bedroom, Dustin knows where.” Dustin nodded, obviously resisting a salute. “He’s...look, it’s fine, he...sleeps, like everybody else--”

“Is he why you haven’t been sleeping?” Will asked solemnly.

Steve snorted. “Ha. Nuh-unh. Okay, you guys have had nightmares--” Mike and Will nodded, while Dustin scoffed. “Imagine you’re--” Steve glanced at Will, trying to phrase it without pressing anywhere sore, “--somewhere in a nightmare, but something really weird walks by, something so out of place it’s funny--”

“...Clifford?” Will suggested hesitantly.

“Eugh!” Mike groaned. “I’m gonna burn that ABC book--”

“It’s really hard to focus on our game around stupid Clifford--” Dustin rolled his eyes, “--you walk into a dungeon and suddenly Mike’s mom’s voice, ‘That’s an ostrich! O! O is for Ostrich!”

“I know--” Mike groaned. “Try living there--”

“Clifford!” Steve grinned. “Exactly! That’s right. So you’re in a nightmare, and Clifford walks by. And you don’t really want Clifford around--”

“He’s annoying as hell--” Mike slumped into the other kitchen chair.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, at Will’s thoughtful expression. “He’s huge and he smells like a dog--”

“He takes huge shits,” Dustin grinned proudly.

“--but,” Steve eyeballed Will in particular, “--you can’t really be scared, either, with the Big Friendly Dog stinking up the place--’

“Billy is Clifford,” Will’s eyes widened, “--you like having him here. Even though he smells awful.”

“Yeah, well. He’s showering.” They all grimaced at the ceiling.

“I listen to music with Jonathan,” Will said softly.

Mike nodded. “I call El, or put the TV on.”

“I’m not scared,” Dustin snorted, “--but if I was, I’d call somebody, Steve, come on, pick up the phone, you don’t need a huge shitty dog.”

“Bedtime.” Steve stretched, groaning. “It’s...whatever. I don’t care.” He staggered upright, already focused on the hours of sleep he might get with Billy breathing in the same room. “I’m going to bed, to sleep, and if anyone wakes me up, there better be--” he glanced at Will again, and cleared his throat, and his head of monsters, “--a costumed supervillain, like, circling the house.”

“Nah, he’s already upstairs,” Dustin muttered, and Steve flipped him off, already running up the stairs.

As Steve frowned at the bed--it’d seemed bigger when he had a girl in it, but then, he supposed, he wasn’t wary of Nancy breaking his face if he brushed his elbow against hers in the night--Billy wandered in, sweatshirt half pulled over his head.

“Holy crap, there.” Steve stared at the purple bruising under Billy’s right shoulderblade and across his ribs, the familiar greeny-yellow handprint on his shoulder, fingermarks on his forearm, and what honestly looked like a heel-stomp on his lower back.

Billy scrambled to get the sweatshirt pulled down. “Fuck you. Go fuck yourself. King fucking Steve Harrington.”

Steve ordinarily had no trouble restraining the urge to laugh at Billy, who he mostly thought of as an unexploded bomb, but listening to his angry “fuck”s muffled through thick jersey fabric was hilarious. He forestalled it with a hand over his mouth. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” He pointed at the bed, more for his own comprehension than anyone else’s. “You can do whatever, but there’s still a whole Munchkin music number going on downstairs.”

Billy looked from his pointing finger, to the bed, back to Steve’s face. “This is an invitation to sleep in your bed.”

“I don’t care,” Steve tottered over and pulled back the covers. “Oh, I guess you could sleep in your car. I told them downstairs they could have the other bedroom or the couch, but I won’t be there to stop them bugging you, and if you murder them I’ll have to…” the pillow against his face felt like the smooth feathers of a celestial swan. “This is the best bed,” he mumbled.

“Harrington,” Billy’s voice came from somewhere off to Steve’s right. “Steve.”

“Sleeping,” Steve told him, wondering dazedly whether he’d dream about Clifford. Or Billy. Or Billy riding Clifford.

He didn’t remember what he dreamt about, jerking out of a sound sleep to a shout of his name downstairs (Dustin, probably), and the streaming light of the motion detectors. He had a vague impression of vaulting over the banister and not dying, and finding Mike and Dustin trying to jolly Will out of a panic attack.

“It’s probably just a leaf or something,” Dustin said, both thumbs up, as Steve sighed and got his bat. The VCR clock said it was four, so he’d actually gotten a few hours of sleep. He shoved his feet into his boots by the door, and stepped outside, keeping to the shadows, and shuffling, so he wouldn’t crunch loudly in the snow. The lights were scheduled for three minutes, so they flipped off soon after he began his circuit. He rested the bat against his shoulder, closing in on the sound of snow crunching.

Of course it was just Billy. Steve shuffled silently closer to the lit end of Billy’s cigarette, only to have the motion detector lights snap back on and illuminate Billy’s face from less than a foot away. Billy screamed, flailing backwards and landing on his ass in the snow, and Steve started snickering, leaning on his bat.

“What the fuck, Harrington,” Billy yelled, sounding breathless. His hair was dusted with snow, and the hoodie hood was wedged awkwardly half under the jean jacket, making him look a little less dangerous than usual. “What the hell, what in the--”

Steve considered himself, shirtless in yanked-on, unbuttoned jeans, a bloodied nailbat over his shoulder, and grinned. “I look like Conan or something.”

“You fucking asswipe, you look nuts--I thought I was gonna die--”

“The little bastards saw the motion detector come on and woke me up,” Steve shrugged, leaning on his bat again as he held a hand down for Billy, who’d landed in about two feet of snow and a patch of scrubgrass, and was stabbing his hands in the snow without finding any leverage to shove himself upright. Billy jerked back, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face. “...you’re just gonna sit there in the snow?”

Billy’s glare didn’t waver as he grabbed at the uneven grass, trying to push himself up, and Steve finally bent in close and grabbed his hand.

Billy yanked back. “--fuck go of me--”

“Come on.” Steve set the end of the bat in the snow and pushed off it to haul Billy up so chilled denim thudded against his chest.

Billy went still against him.

“Breathe,” Steve recommended, recognizing the signs of recalcitrant lungs, and brushed a hunk of snow out of Billy’s mullet. The skin under the denim collar was warm, and Steve let his half-frozen fingers linger there, breathing easily in the cloud of cigarette smoke, and the smell of his shampoo on Billy Hargrove’s mullet. It was soft, and Steve let his fingers curl in it, resting his thumb behind Billy’s ear.

“The hell are you putting your hands on me.” Billy’s breath was warm against his ear, but he didn’t pull away.

Steve considered, head clear and and nearly fizzy with the hours of sleep. In the chill of snow against his shoulders, with his hand clenched in the denim of Billy’s jacket, he felt farther away from tunneling nightmares than he had in months. Billy finally lifted his face from Steve’s shoulder enough to take another drag on his cigarette, which forced him to wrap that arm loosely around Steve’s shoulder to reach. Steve giggled, mentally cataloguing the windows probably holding small, horrified faces.

“You tell my dad I’m here and nobody’ll ever find my body,” Billy breathed smoke against his head, before pulling back enough to press his lips to Steve’s.

He has long eyelashes, Steve thought, less confident about his wakefulness than he’d been moments before, but kissing Billy’s warm mouth was weirdly cozy, and he leaned into it, feeling the bat slide from his hand. “Wait--” He clenched his fingers in the curls at the base of Billy’s skull, and Billy groaned against his mouth, eyes sliding shut. “...wow,” Steve paused, distracted by the immediate rush of red across Billy’s cheeks, but Billy ducked his head, jerking away, so Steve pulled him back with his other hand around Billy’s neck. “Wait.” He licked his lips, thinking. “That’s. Huh. We should go back inside. But your dad knows you--you’re gay?”

“I’m not a fag.” Billy jerked backwards, but didn’t try to disentangle Steve’s hands from his hair and neck. “I fuck women, Harrington-- ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but you just...I mean,” Steve ran his thumbs up Billy’s cheeks, pulling him closer, fascinated at the lack of protest, “--wait, that’s why he--?” He touched the bruise carefully.

“No,” Billy growled. “I mean, I don’t know, I know mom didn’t just have a dizzy spell on the stairs, but I bet she--she wasn’t--fucking women--”

“Jesus.” Steve tugged him back in so their foreheads met, studying Billy’s closed eyes and shivers as their breath fogged. “You think your dad’s a murderer? You think he-- ”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Billy swallowed. “The hell are you gonna do. You gonna tell ‘Hopper’ I kissed you. You gonna tell my dad. Might as well kill me with that bat, Steve.” He shifted away, stilling at Steve’s hand on the back of his skull.

“No, no, jesus, calm down--” Steve pulled him close again, breathing in Essence of Hargrove in hopes his mind would stop spinning. “Fuck. Your--your dad killed your mom?”

“Dunno what the hell else coulda happened,” Billy said thickly, tense against him.

“...jesus.” Steve whispered against his jaw. “You should--you should tell Hopper. Christ. Uh, we should--we should go back inside.”

“Your three little piglets probably already called him. They’ll think I ate you out here.”

“Oh shit.” Steve grabbed Billy’s hand in one of his, scooping up the bat with the other, and began dragging him back toward the house. “How long have I been out here, they probably did--”

“What the hell, Steve, why--you’re--let go--” Billy tried to shake him off, staggering after him through the snow.

“It’s fine!” Steve shouted, stumbling over all the shoes as they tromped through the door. “This asshole was having a cigarette!” He held up his and Billy’s hands like they’d won a trophy, and Billy tried to jerk away again, snarling under his breath.

“What are you doing,” Dustin said levelly, staring between them.

Mike’s nose was wrinkled. “You can let him go now.”

Will’s red rimmed eyes traveled over Billy and fixed on their clasped hands, but he just cocked his head, raising his eyebrows at Steve, who felt his face heat.

“We’re going back to sleep--” Steve dove towards the stairs, prompting a burst of expletives from Billy, who scrambled after him.

Upstairs, Steve closed and locked his bedroom door, dropped the bat to thud against the wall, and turned to face Billy, who was shuddering at regular intervals. “Un...less you want more hot chocolate.” Steve stood back, surveying the shivers and teary eyes.

“I don’t fucking want hot chocolate, what is it with you.” Billy bared his teeth, hunching in on himself, and Steve reflected with a grin that for once, he didn’t want hot chocolate either.

Steve dropped into the office chair, letting it slowly spin him all the way around. “You kissed me.”

“Prove it in court,” Billy sighed, hugging himself in his snowy jacket.

“Come on.” Steve waved him over.

“Hell no.” Billy backed away, his shoulders hitting the wall again.

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then snorted a laugh. “Don’t make me grab your hair again.”

“Fuck you.” Billy’s eyes narrowed, but slowly traveled down Steve’s chest, over his abs, and down to his unbuttoned jeans and visible triangle of briefs. “...plaid the new thing at court? Isn’t your room enough? Look,” he rolled his shoulders, probably forgetting his borrowed saggy grey sweats were hiding his usual flexing pectorals, “--you want a blowjob? You can’t tell anyone.”

“What?” Steve blinked.

“Want my mouth on your dick?” Billy sauntered towards him. “Don’t tell my father.” He leaned in to whisper along Steve’s jaw, and Steve resisted the urge to reach down and hoist his dick out of his briefs. “Don’t tell the sheriff.” Billy dropped to his knees, mouthing down Steve’s chest. “Don’t--cave my--head in,” he went still as Steve slid a hand in his hair. “Don’t crush my eyeballs with a nailbat, and I’ll blow you.”

“Wait,” Steve groaned, tugging to detach Billy’s warm, soft mouth from the edge of his jeans. “Damn it. Billy, hold on--”

“The hell is wrong with you, Harrington?” Billy sat back on his feet, eyebrows raised. “Close your eyes if you want, I don’t care--”

“I just--” Steve ran his fingers along Billy’s jaw, losing his train of thought as Billy tipped his head willingly.

“You wanna hit me and have me?” Billy laughed, turning his head to bite gently at Steve’s hand. “I’m hot with bruises. Gimme a bloody nose, kiss off your daily iron allowance, your majesty.”

“No. No.” Steve clenched his fingers in the silky hair at the back of Billy’s head again, feeling him sag. He was careful not to yank individual strands.

“Don’t tell anyone, though. Hit me, don’t kill me--” Billy pulled Steve’s thumb in his mouth with his tongue, sucking suggestively, but his eyes were getting shiny again. “Come on. You don’t really wanna haul me out of another trunk.”

“Jesus, Hargrove,” Steve yanked his hand away from Billy’s mouth, “--I won’t tell anyone you’re--I mean, that we’re--what are we even doing.” For the first time, his lungs started to feel stiff even with Billy Hargrove right in front of him. He forced some small, shallow breaths, watching Billy’s eyes start to brim over. He put the hand not holding Billy’s hair over his mouth to forestall what was probably about to be another flood of abuse, and took another breath. One one thousand, he counted to himself, holding it and letting it out. “You--you’re a fuckhead,” he started again, feeling Billy laugh against his hand. “Look, I’m not gonna--if you get up right now, I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t--hit you, or anything. If you wanna be there, that’s--that’s good too. But. I won’t tell anyone.”

Billy shook his head, trying to get away from Steve’s hand over his mouth--since Steve hadn’t moved when he licked it--and Steve lowered it, narrowing his eyes. Billy cleared his throat. “What’s the point, then?”

Steve flailed his free hand. “It was your idea!”

“I like women,” Billy bared his teeth, “--you’re just gonna shut your eyes anyway.”

“What, you want me to stare at you?” Steve pressed his licked thumb to Billy’s lower lip. He’d tasted like cigarettes and chocolate.

“I don’t fucking want anything.” Billy let his eyes slide closed, pressing his face into the seam of Steve’s jeans. “Neither of us are fucking...queers.”

Steve wondered, in passing, whether he wanted more of a sexual buffet table than he’d suspected. It makes sense, he thought, one hand in Billy’s hair, the other satisfying various curiosities about Billy’s ear piercing, the texture of his stubble, and the heat coming up in his cheeks. Nobody wants the same thing forever, right? He leaned in again, kissing Billy Hargrove, and huffing a laugh of disbelief. Billy flinched back, eyes blinking wide.

“You gotta lay off the little shitheads,” Steve remembered to say, pulling back. Billy’s mouth quirked, and Steve kissed it again, tugging at Billy’s lower lip and its edge of stubble with his teeth. Billy moaned into his mouth, and Steve grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer--not that there was much closer for him to be.

“I don’t give a shit about them,” Billy panted against his mouth.

“I ended up with them somehow, you need to be...okay with them, if you can be nice to people without...taking your pants off,” Steve pressed lightly on Billy’s unbruised cheek with his thumb, and Billy obediently opened his mouth. He still tasted better than Steve would have expected, his mouth warm and smoky, and his body ever more pliable as Steve held him firmly by the hair.

“Being nice right now,” Billy whispered back, and Steve snorted, pulling him into another kiss. The left side of Billy’s mouth tasted coppery, and his soft groan turned into more of a pained whine, but he slid his arms around Steve’s neck to stop him from pulling away.

“God,” Steve tucked his face against Billy’s other cheek, breathing him in, “--you--you gotta promise, though. If you’re about to lose your shit at a kid, walk away.”

“I wouldn’t really,” Billy laughed, pulling his arms back to fumble at Steve’s pants. Steve grabbed his hands.

“Billy.”

“I won’t,” he shoved away to stomp over against the wall, “--the hell is this, Harrington, some kinda trap. Fuck you.”

“Nooooo,” Steve said slowly, feeling whiplash, “--that was…” He felt his cheeks flush. “That was good. You should come back over here.”

“Why the hell would I.” Billy rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck menacingly, but wandered a few feet closer. “What if one of your spawn calls the sheriff. He’ll show up and shoot me in the head.”

“Oh! I called him,” Steve blinked, “--while you were in the shower--” he cut off at Billy’s soft choking noise.

“He’s not here, what, he’s just waiting for me at home, then--” His voice had gone high and wet.

“What?”

“He’s gonna know, Harrington, he’s gonna--god, fuck you, he’s gonna nail me to a fucking fence--” He scrambled over to reach for the bat, and Steve put all his basketball lessons in interference into preventing him from reaching it, finally hugging Billy’s arms to his body.

“Sshhhh,” he tried, unable to think of anything else. “Shhh, Billy. I called Hopper. I told him your dad was a liar. I told him we watched Star Wars. He’s not coming. He’s not telling your dad.”

“Fuck you--” Billy’s voice shook.

Steve rocked them back and forth, hugging him tighter, and Billy snorted into his shoulder. “Lemme go.”

“Not sure I should,” Steve breathed against his neck.

“This is so gay,” Billy groaned.

“I think we’re both maybe half gay, though.” Steve loosened his grip, sliding his hand up to stroke his thumb against the base of Billy’s skull, and Billy shuddered, snorting a laugh.

“Fags come in fractions?”

“Maybe.”

Billy took a deep breath, tickling Steve’s ear. “...maybe you’re a moron.”

Steve slid his other hand under the denim jacket and old sweatshirt, running the flat of his hand up and down Billy’s back.

“Maybe,” Billy whispered in his ear.

(I think Tumblr ate my first three chapter posts, so I’m redoing them?!) Strangest chapter 1/chapter 2/chapter 3/chapter 4/chapter 5/chapter 6/chapter 7/chapter 8/chapter 9/chapter 10/ But really I’d recommend reading it on Ao3 under peterqpan, scrolling through it on Tumblr sounds crazymaking

#harringrove #platypan #platypan fic #strangest #Billy's a mess #Steve is also a mess #They're messy together #Also dorks

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

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Justice Society of America #10 (1993)

Fact: Golden Age heroes didn't have penises.

I was starfished on my bedroom floor tonight staring at the ceiling and thinking about how in my teens and twenties, I could revel in it, thinking, "Who am I? Who will I become? What does life have in store for me?" But a grown ass man doing that simply thinks, "This is it, isn't it?" At least I can lose myself in reading comic books I've already read and which I didn't really enjoy that much the first time. It might sound like a waste of time but it gives my life meaning! The most shallow of meanings, sure. But at least I'm not growing old watching conservative news because I need anything at all to light my passion. I'll say this about Fox News: they understand how old people are so bored they'll watch the dumbest shit and then get mad about it. I know other people who aren't old also watch Fox News. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with them. I guess they have fears and hatreds I hope I'll never truly understand. I just don't understand watching Fox News (or any of the other non-propaganda 24 hour news sites). People do understand there are channels which show programs that make you laugh or feel merry or that simply entertain the other non-lizard parts of your brain, right? How do you pick Fox News when you can watch Sci-fi or Buzzr Comedy Central or the Ru-Paul's Drag Race all day channel? I just realized that the people who watch Fox News basically use Twitter the same way. The majority of my feed are funny people so even when they're discussing politics, it's always entertaining (or fiercely intelligent because witty people are smart. Dumb people think they're witty (see Mike Huckabee)). But when I check out the Twitter feeds of conservatives I know, at best they'll retweet a sports tweet sandwiched between forty retweets of Ben Shapiro and Dinesh Souza. Maybe they think some of the right wing pundits they follow are funny. But calling somebody a mean name or tagging everything "liberal tears" isn't funny. It's the kind of funny that the bully's weasely sidekick guffaws over and then says, "You tell 'em, Jimmy!" Speaking of things bullies would say, it's now time for me to criticize Len Strazewski's Justice Society. Previously, some old fart named Kulak made everybody in the world begin to hate. But they aren't just randomly hating everybody else. They really seem to be bonding over their hatred for the Justice Society of America. Is this story a metaphor about me and my hatred of this comic book? Because that would be a terrible metaphor seeing as how I don't really hate this comic. I wish I did though! I'm old and I need to feel passion! I bet if I hadn't dropped cable eighteen years ago, I'd be addicted to Fox News too! No, I wouldn't be. I'm as liberal as you can be while still making offensive jokes. So not really that liberal, I guess? Maybe I'm socially, economically, and politically liberal. But I'm a complete asshole when it comes to punchlines. Don't get me wrong! I don't make offensive jokes at the expense of people different than me. I make offensive jokes about myself and those Goddamned fucking babies. Fuck those parasitic monsters. This issue begins with Starman finally reappearing.

It really wasn't exciting enough for an announcement of his return. He's just another half-balding old guy. But it lets me talk about the DC Universe show, Stargirl!

I decided to watch Stargirl because what else am I going to do with my life? Finish reading Gravity's Rainbow? I mean, I am going to do that now that I'm done re-reading those awful Lando Calrissian books. But I can't spend all of time reading Pynchon! Just too much of it! I mean, I'm only 18 pages into Gravity's Rainbow (which is further than I've ever gotten on my previous three attempts!) and I'd estimate I don't understand 5% of the words he's used. And that's me being an English Lit major who has been a voracious reader his entire 48 years (minus the ones where I couldn't read yet. Like ten or something?). I was in bed reading and didn't have a dictionary at hand so I just powered through. But I think I need to go back through and learn all of those words so I can impress the local Starbucks barista! Or are people not impressed when you use a word they have nearly zero chance of knowing and don't know you enough to keep the conversation going by asking you what that means and instead just smile and nod and glance occasionally at the tip jar? Anyway, so I've watched three episodes so far and I'll tell you how I feel about it after I mention how I've actually watched four episodes. The first episode I watched, I was impressed with because Courtney was already palling around with a bunch of legacy JSA members and the Injustice Society was trying to tackle the "Who is Stargirl?" problem and I watched it thinking, "This is really impressive how they decided to start in the middle of the story like this. I like it!" Then I went to watch episode two and I was confused because it didn't seem to follow after the previous episode. So I kept thinking, "Maybe this is a flashback?" And then eighteen minutes into it, I thought, "Maybe I didn't watch the pilot episode. I'd better check." And I started watching the first episode which I totally hadn't seen. So I guess I started with Episode 7 or something. Here are some of my tweet-thoughts on the show for those who don't follow me on Twitter (why don't you follow me on twitter? What is wrong with you? Is it because you don't know I'm @GrunionGuy?): Tweet #1: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then you check to make sure the actress playing a fifteen year old Stargirl is actually 21 and then you breathe a sigh of relief and think, 'I won't be cancelled today! Unless I tweet this experience, probably.'" Tweet #2: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then remember it's okay to fuck a car that's been converted into a giant robot with Luke Wilson inside of it." Tweet #3: "3rd episode of Stargirl begins with a dying white woman's final wish to her white husband that he make the world safe for their white son. She dies and he goes out into the enormous hedge maze garden of his mansion to scream into the sky about the injustice of it all. All in all, a pretty good villain origin!" That third tweet was the only one that really makes any sort of socially acceptable commentary on the show. Saying things like "Stargirl's butt doesn't look like my mouth should be inside of it because she's fifteen although the actress is twenty-one so maybe it actually does look like that?" aren't the greatest things to admit even if you're just joking (which I am but just adding this statement makes it sound like I'm not but I totally am (that "totally" doesn't help but I assure you, I'm joking (did the hole just get deeper?))). I mean, sure, her body is super fit because she's a super hero (or will be?). But she has such a baby face! And even at twenty-one, she's just a baby! If I were younger, I'd totally have a crush on her. But I'm 48 and I just don't consider young women proper targets for my sexual deviance anymore. The only interaction I should have with young women these days is warning them against going out to the summer camp at the lake where that boy drowned so many years ago. The girls I had a crush on when I was younger (Christina Applegate (Kelly Bundy), Winona Ryder (Veronica Sawyer), and Stacie Mistysyn (Caitlin Ryan)), I have even more of a crush on now. Judging by the crushes I've had my whole life and not society's stereotype of women, women definitely get better looking as they get older. And probably as I get older. I'm sure that's part of it although I like to think that fifteen year old me would still look at these nearly fifty (or maybe fifty? I'm not so obsessed I know their ages but they're all around my age anyway) year old women and think, "Holy fuck mommy." I'm sorry for that last comment. But I'm only sorry to God not anybody who was reading this. Oh, I forgot to mention that Joel McHale is the original Starman (I mean original in the show although he's Sylvester Pemberton who was never Starman but only Skyman although in the show he was at one point the Star-Spangled Kid and Luke Wilson does mention Ted Knight at some point). And he's funny in his death scene just like he should be because I've obviously decides Sylvester is Jeff Winger's new superhero secret identity alias. Starman heads off with his Cosmic Buttplug to stop Kulak in Gotham City. He doesn't know it yet but the rest of his pals are currently battling Kulak and probably losing. Although Kulak is even older than they are so maybe it's a fair fight. I'm just surprised that a comic book where old men battle other old men has made it ten issues.

I think some editor was fired last issue and the new editor's only job was to make sure it didn't look like Thunderbolt had been speared through the asshole.

Although this editor seemed to think it was okay to have Hawkgirl fucked from behind by Kulak.

I hope this isn't a terrible conservative take on women that exposes how terrible I am at sex but even mind-controlled, I can't imagine licking a woman's shoulder would elicit that response. Although she could be "Ummming" from his pee-hee in her bee-boo.

I know conservative talking points are generally fucking idiotic but Ben Shapiro somehow thinking women can get "too wet" from sexual excitement might be the most hilariously idiotic. I don't think I've been with a woman who was all, "Yes! Yes! Lick my shoulder blade!" and I then I got super into it and then suddenly she was all, "Nope. Too wet. This isn't working for me anymore. I need a doctor, I guess?" Who am I kidding? I know I've never been with a woman who did that because that would mean I've had to have been with a woman! Also, women get wet down there? What's that about? Is it because the vagina cries at the sight of the penis? Kulak takes away all of their super powers but I guess he forgets that Wildcat doesn't have any so I'm hoping Wildcat just punches him in the face soon. Although that Starman bit probably was a hint at how the coming fight might end. You know, with Starman shoving his Cosmic Buttplug into Kulak's third eye, if you know what I'm saying. You probably do because I called it a Cosmic Buttplug. I should try to be more subtle. Kulak's entire purpose is to get revenge on the Justice Society for defeating him way back in 1940. Can't even one super villain just accept defeat and move on with their lives? Or are writers just always going to be so inherently lazy that they'll never give up the crutch of the villain attacking the hero directly out of revenge for that one single time they tried to actually commit a crime and were stopped? The JSA puts up a fight that helps to drain Kulak's power but it isn't until Starman arrives and does that thing I mentioned with his Cosmic Buttplug that Kulak is defeated.

This is the grossest orgasm I've ever seen and my computer is riddled with viruses from all of the previous ones I've watched.

After Kulak's defeat, Jesse Quick wraps up the issue with her super hero dissertation which is less a dissertation and more of a thorough cleaning of all of their asses with her tongue. She's all, "I didn't really do much research or define heroes too good but the Justice Society of America are my heroes so I deserver a degree, right?" Justice Society of America #10 Rating: B. This comic book was as average as they get. I suppose that should garner a C grade but a B grade just seems to say decent but mediocre. By the time I get down to a C grade, I feel like the comic book needs a lot more faults than "I don't really care about stories with heroes who are having strokes during the battles." It's a valid criticism but it's probably too subjective for a critical review. I know, I know! When has that ever stopped me before? Well, I feel charitable today. It probably has something to do with Mars being so close to the full moon earlier this week. My blood is all riled up and wacky!

#Justice Society of America #Stargirl #JSA #Len Strazewski #Mike Parobeck #Mike Machlan

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 5 years

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Why? ~ F.W. (part 2)

A/n: You might think nothing's happening now but yaaaaaaaall I'm SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES!! This was hard for me to write because I'm so excited for future parts but hopefully you guys enjoy it as I did thinking it up :)

Word Count: 5600+

MASTERLIST

Most days I was easy to wake up. All the Headmistress has to do was open my door and say my name and I was instantly stiff and alert and jumping out of bed. And those were lazy days. Summers were hard because I never slept well at the orphanage. I was usually awake even before anyone came to get me.

At the Diggorys' though, I slept so soundly that it was near impossible to wake me up. Cedric sometimes has to tickle me awake, pulling blankets off of me and jumping on the bed as he screamed my name, half laughing. A few times he'd given up and just carried me to the breakfast table, plopping me in a chair with messy hair and heavy eyelids and blanket wrapped around me and all. Those were Amos' (Diggory's dad) favorite mornings. He laughed for several minutes as I tried to open my eyes and say good morning through my thick tongue covered in sticky morning grossness.

All Summer, Cedric and I had been bonding. He found out my birthday was June 16 and he threw me a little party. We made a cake together after he woke me up with chocolate chip waffles (a delicacy I'd cried over the first time I'd had it because it was SO GOOD) and had even gotten a present - A locket with a 'D' carved on the front. Inside was Amos and Cedric. That day we were doing different dorky things I'd always wanted to do. Arts and crafts, where he made me a hairpin and I made him a little clip to put on his tie and a little ring he'd put on a chain and wore around his neck because it was too small for his fingers. He did a puppet show but magic style, where he had the shadows he made become their own characters even when he put his hands down, talking to me and raising my hair by hitting at my shadow's hair. He gave me a piggyback ride which I immediately became obsessed with and Amos joined us when we began to exchange terrible jokes, going back and forth until I was on my back, face beet red because I'd stopped breathing for too long. Overall it was an amazing day.

One day he gave me flying lessons because I was struggling with brooms. Another day he taught me to clean with magic, levitating and instilling patterns and instructions into inanimate objects. Another day he taught me how to properly tie a tie- apparently, I'd done it wrong my whole first year. Sometimes we'd get in a fight over something ridiculous or he'd be busy or tired or I'd get sucked into a book he'd suggested me and we spent several days apart, but by a week's time, we'd met up again and started up as if no time had passed.

Now Summer was over though. We'd gone shopping for our new things for this year and were all ready as we headed to the train station. Amos gave me a goodbye hug and a kiss on the forehead - which felt so fatherly I nearly cried. I managed to pull myself together enough to be escorted by Cedric to the train as he talked about licorice wands. "Muggle candy is so much worse than that." I laughed and he tilted his head. I began to tell him about licorice in the muggle world and he stopped me mid-explanation, fingers in his ears, singing 'lalalala' on the top of his lungs. I couldn't breathe for a second I was laughing so hard.

As we talked, I bumped into a girl. I caught my breath to turn and face her. "I'm so sorry."

She had platinum blond hair and soft blue eyes and a sort of distant look in her eyes. "It's okay." Her voice was high and smooth. "Quibbler?" She tentatively offered me the magazine and I looked down.

It was colorful and had some weird names of things I'd never heard before. "I would love one," I told her, taking it. "What's your name?"

"Luna Lovegood," she answered. "Yours?"

"Ylva Black."

Her eyes light up. "What a nice name. Did you know that Ylva means 'she-wolf' in Swedish?"

I blushed. "I- I did." That was something I didn't want anyone to know... but here we were. "How did you know that?"

"I know all sorts of things," she shrugged. "Like how you're a Slytherin and your favorite color is green, which I think is a wonderful coincidence." Cedric and I both paused to see if she would retaliate but she didn't seem bothered by me being a Slytherin like most people were. "Well, I'll see you around." She moved away and Cedric and I waited for her to be out of ear shot to look at each other. The second our gazes met we covered our mouths, trying not to be too loud as we giggled.

Moving into an empty compartment, we continued our conversation about some of the creatures in the Quibbler. "Have you ever heard or Nargles?" I asked, eyebrows pushed together and head tilted.

Cedric scoffed. "It's all bogus. It's just loads of weird things that don't exist and gossip that doesn't matter." He rolled his eyes but I ignored him. It was interesting to learn about things, even if they may not be real.

The compartment door opened and I looked up to see Fred come in. "Hey Fred," I greeted, smiling.

He seemed dazed for a second as he looked at me and I frowned, momentarily worried about him. He seemed to snap out of it though, blinking and softly shaking his head before coming to sit down next to me. "Hey, Liv. Cedric. How was your summer?”

"Brilliant," I answered, grinning at Cedric. He nodded in agreement. "I have to say, my twelfth birthday really was the best one thanks to Ced and his dad."

Cedric's smile softened, warmed. "I'm glad."

The three of us fell into an easy conversation that flowed naturally and easily. Sometimes we fell into silence and it was fine. Comfortable. Just like silence always was with these boys. Fred was just telling us about some of his most epic pranks when I noticed that we were probably almost there and should change into robes. We parted ways to do so and then returned just to get right back into it with ease, like we hadn’t even stopped.

Finally, I realized something that gave me a reason to interrupt. "Why aren't you with George?"

He shot me a look, smiling as he jokingly said, "I could leave if you want."

I rolled my eyes. "You know I love having you here, but I mean... you and George are usually pretty impossible to separate aren't you? You talk about all your pranks with him there. Every prank idea you have, he's involved. Every time I've seen you, you're nearly always by his side. I just don't want him to be all lonely- he can come too if he wants to hang out." My voice grew soft as I realized that maybe it wasn't that Fred didn't want him here more than George didn't want to be here... because I was. I swallowed.

Fred put an arm around my shoulder. "Oh, he's busy with Lee Jordan. Those two get along fine without me. We can have different friends and do different things, sometimes." I nodded, feeling sick. "You have to keep in mind though that if you're going to be friends with me he will be around sometimes though. He is my best friend." He smiled and I felt like that was his way of telling me that George didn't hate me. I wasn't sure but either way, it comforted me.

"I wouldn't mind that."

Fred didn't drop his hand from my shoulders as we moved off of the train, him capturing my attention until Cedric called my name to wave goodbye as he moved away to join his other friends. I waved back as Fred guided me to his friends while we walked. I didn't mind and they didn't seem to either so we stopped by them and the two of us chatted and giggled as he talked about how amazing at Quidditch he was. I guess the talk pulled over other players because Harry popped up. "You should come and watch! I saw you at one game last year but then you never came again."

"I kept getting distracted by homework," I sighed. "Plus after all the anxiety your first game caused me when you were nearly knocked off your broom, I wasn't keen on returning."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and I wondered if I dredged up an unpleasant memory. "Yeah, well, nothing like that should happen again."

Fred jarred me a bit to get my attention again. "Oh please, Liv? You can see my mad skills!" He was grinning so wide that I couldn't help myself.

I gave in. "Oh alright."

Harry and Fred cheered and I laughed. Their loud noises brought more people over. George finally popped up, which is when I met Lee Jordan officially for the first time. We went to the castle together, parting as everyone else went to the Gryffindor table and I met Sam and Beth halfway to Slytherin. Sam couldn't keep in contact over the Summer (and his brother was glaring at us as we approached) but Beth had told him summaries of the summaries I'd told her. Now I told them both in detail about my Summer. About the Diggory house and Cedric and my birthday.

That caught Beth's attention. "When's your birthday?"

"July 16," I told her. She nodded. We'd sat at the table at this point and now we grew quiet as McGonagall came in with the first years. Instantly I felt all the happiness drain out of me as she began the sorting ceremony, reminding me of my own. My eyes searched out Fred and George at the Gryffindor table as my ear kept open.

"Sylvester Plyth."

The boy had strawberry blonde hair and brown eyes so dark they were nearly black. His jaw was a little uneven and he tripped as he walked up. I always tried to guess someone's house just by the way they walked and handled the attention of being in front of everybody. This boy keeps his eyes on the floor, shuffling nervously as people looked at him and the hat spoke in his head where no one else could hear. I guess maybe Hufflepuff.

"SLYTHERIN!"

My grin was wide. Our first new student of the night. The people around me cheered - and I did so maybe loudest of all, especially when I noticed Fred and George respectively clapping, little smiles on their faces. Fred and I made eye contact and exchanged wide smiles.

Maybe I didn't hate the Weasley twins as much as I’d first thought.

The ceremony passed and a first-year girl sat next to me, shaking in her seat. I put an arm around her but didn't look over, still trying to preserve her pride without drawing attention to the exchange. That helped a lot. After it was over, Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher- Professor Lockhart. I'd heard of the man of course, but he was even more ridiculous and repugnant in person. I did notice the girls around me sighing and I wasn't sure why. He could be our father. And the way his eyes moved across the crowd, basking in the glory of those admiring him... I didn't care what he'd done to be considered so great, his arrogance and self-righteous attitude overshadowed it. I was relieved to see all the boys rolling their eyes and also some girls who seemed to stand on the same floor as me.

The feast that officially started my second year at Hogwarts ended and it was time for bed. Second-year dorms weren't that much different. I sort of liked the small changes. It meant I was progressing.

School was normal. Fred has officially joined Cedric’s and my study session, so it could be officially considered a study group. He'd never asked to bring anybody else and he never tried to. I liked that it was just us three.

My casual friendship with Harry allowed him to update me on the drama that was happening even if I suffered none of it first hand. One day he lay down everything he'd gone through so far this year, rolling his eyes at Lockheart same as I did. We talked about him quite a bit since he seemed so refreshed to see a girl not under the blonde teacher's spell. "I wonder if he charms them," I joked at one point. "Do you think Dumbledore would fire him if he did?" We both laughed. He also told me about Draco, which darkened the mood quite a bit.

"But not all Slytherins live up to their reputation."

We exchanged smiles the tension eased. "Not all Slytherins," I agreed.

Classes were pretty normal. The first day of Potions I called Neville over, patting the seat next to me. It was the first time I'd seen him smile in this class. And the last. It hadn't been long after the start of class, but it was already clear that Snape wasn’t going to lay off too much this year when I groaned after Neville messed up a potion. The sound had been quiet but Snape was right behind us. I tensed when I felt him sidle up to our desk, readying myself for him to threaten or insult. But he didn't. He just hummed disapprovingly and the look he gave Neville was nasty enough that the boy went pale. But then he just moved on. Perhaps we’d catch the smallest of breaks.

I scooted closer to Neville. "It's okay, we'll get it right this time."

It seems so normal and easy, that first month before Halloween hits. It passes by easily and then it's pumpkins and ghosts and scary stories and sweet treats and pranks and scares and everything in between. Nearly Headless Nick's Death Day party I heard is usually uneventful for the living, but the feast is fantastic. There was laughter and screams and teasing and... Mrs. Norris hanging from a wall, petrified.

Petrified.

I didn't even know it was a word until I'd heard she was it.

The mood in the whole castle seemed to drop a bit. Just a bit. I mean she was just a cat but petrification was kind of a chilling concept. Not to mention the blood on the wall, the water that covered nearly everywhere, and Harry Potter who was found in the middle of it all.

It was soon forgotten at the coming of the first Quidditch game of the year, though. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and I shouldn't have been torn but it was. Fred waved to me and I wiggled my fingers in response. Someone a few seats away cheered for Draco. Our new seeker. I looked over as the platinum blonde arsehole took to the sky with a smirk that was too proud and self-satisfied for his own good. I tried not to glare at him. When I looked back at the others, I caught Fred looking at me. He pointed at Malfoy and rolled his eyes. I nodded, shaking my head. He paused before lifting his club, slowly swinging it. I realized he was mining hitting Malfoy over the head. I felt only a little bad for laughing.

The game started and the jokes stopped. I could tell Malfoy was antagonizing Harry and it irritated me so much that I almost wanted Slytherin to lose just to wipe that smile off of Malfoy's face.

Almost. I still had pride for my house.

Beth found me as the game started. Just as I diverted my attention from the Seekers to the others- it was weird how my gaze was drawn to the twins and no matter how hard I tried I sat there and just watched them- she grabbed my arm. "Who are you watching so intently?"

"No one," I brushed off, frowning at her. My face felt warmer than it had before. I coughed and she rolled her eyes, humming in a doubting way. She did drop it though and I was glad.

I was getting into the game. Lee Jordan's shouting and the zooming and rushing was impossible to deny. I was cheering and screaming in outrage with the rest of those in the stands. Sam joined us at some point, sitting on the other side of Beth. We kept smacking each others' arms and grabbing hands and forearms to balance us when we shot to our feet or leaned too far toward too suddenly and lost our balance. I was having a lot of fun actually.

Then the Bludger decided to kill Harry.

Slytherin was in the lead and I was stoked about it... but then the Bludger broke Oliver Wood's - the Gryffindor Keeper - broom by slamming into it brutally, knocking him out of the sky. The victory so far was wiped from my head as my smile wiped from my face as Harry took off, racing as the Bludger followed loyally behind him, apparently out for murder. "What's going on?" I asked, leaning forward.

"I..." Sam paused, tilting his head, trying to think. Beth looked between us, more unsure than worried. "It looks like someone's spelled the Bludger to follow him."

Dread filled me. "Could it hurt him?" The look Sam gave me made my body go cold as I looked back to Harry. He cut through the Slytherins and we all screamed, leaning away from the middle to leave him room to pass us. The passing Bludger was moving so fast with so much force that its projection stole the air of my gasp and made it hard to take a breath in again, moving my hair as both boy and ball zoomed past. I spun around, gasping, to keep him in sight. The ball tore through the sides of the stadiums and I held my breath... thankfully none fell. Harry wasn't having the same luck though. Finally, he stopped in front of Malfoy. He ducked and the Bludger soared mere inches from Draco's head. Then he dived. This movement was more purposeful- not dodging... chasing.

"He found the Snitch," I breathed out. Malfoy was on his tail, slamming into him as they went for the Snitch and the Bludger went for them. I stopped breathing. They ducked under the stands and I swallowed a groan, not moving a muscle until they resurfaced. They dropped down again too fast for me to catch my breath. There was too long of a pause and then Malfoy shot up from the below place they were flying around in. It looked like he'd crashed as he hit the ground hard, rolling and holding his stomach like he was going to be sick.

Finally, Harry popped up and I let my air come normally as I tried to seem normal. Would my fellow Slytherins hate me even more if I cared what happened to a boy who was twelve years old just because he was Harry Potter? Just because he was a Gryffindor? Just because he WASN'T a Slytherin? I couldn't bring myself to care enough to really hold myself back though. Right now all I could think about was Harry and if he was okay.

He reached out and it seemed like he was very close to grabbing what I could only assume was the Snitch since I couldn't see it. I did, however, see the Bludger slam into his arm. I shot to my feet and screamed, "HARRY!" Beth jumped in surprise next to me.

The boy steadied himself and then slowly but surely reached out his other arm. Reaching... reaching... He bucked forward and lost balance, slipping upside down so he held onto his broom but looked up at the sky before skidding on the ground a few times and then falling off entirely. I was frozen in place, unable to move or think, barely able to breathe.

"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" I nearly laughed, shaking my head. The complete moron WOULD catch the Snitch even after all of that, wouldn't he?

It wasn't over yet though. The Bludger was still after him, crashing down again and again as Harry rolled around, desperately avoiding it. I saw a spell fly and looked over to see Hermione running into the field... actually, a lot of people were on the field now. My smile faded as my worry took over again. It still hadn't registered that Slytherin had lost.

There was a commotion and Harry was carted off, the crowd of his friends going to follow after him. The game was over and I wanted to check on Harry so I went to move through the crowd, hurrying to get to the Hospital Wing. I was interrupted when fingers gripped the collar of my robes, pulling me close to a face. "Tristen," I gasped, eyes wide. Sam's older brother.

"What's with you?" He demanded nastily. "Cheering for the Gryffindors. Standing up for that snot nose brat in front of Snape. Were you actually concerned for that Seeker? Are you even aware that we lost?"

"Let me go!" I screamed. The Slytherins around us watched, eyes wide but not moving to walk away or step in.

He shook me and I blinked as the world started to dot in black spots. I felt suddenly dizzy. "You're no Slytherin! You're a disgrace to those colors! To the man who started this house! Are you even a Pureblood?"

The blood rushes to my head. I locked my jaw after I bit my tongue, tasting blood. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe evenly, taking advantage of the time he was giving me while he demanded questions. He spoke slowly, each word enunciated and seething with disgust and hate and anger. I finally got orientation just a bit. I brought my knee up to his groin. He let go and I landed on my feet. The world was spinning and I had to grip the bar behind me to stabilize myself but I pulled my wand out, eyes wide as I took long, even breaths to try and get my vision back to normal. "I said," I snapped. "Let. Go. Of. Me." He looked up at me with wide eyes. He was a seventh year, five years older than me. He was tall and maybe not the strongest kid but he must have been three times my weight between age and height alone. But he was on the ground and I was armed. I was in control. "And do not EVER lay a finger on me without my permission ever again." I was gasping but everything was going back to normal, so that was a relief. After catching my breath and regaining my stability, I kneeled down in front of him, the top of my wand denting the skin under his chin. He was actually quite attractive but all I could see when I looked at that pretty face was the murderous look from earlier flipped 180 into a look of fear now. "You're a coward. You attacked me because I'm smaller than you and you thought for sure I'd be helpless. Well, let me tell you, Tristan, if you ever even threaten me again or even just give me a look that makes me uncomfortable, I WILL kill you. Do I make myself PERFECTLY clear? Is that Slytherin enough for you?" He didn't respond so I pushed my wand further into his skin.

"Yes!" He choked out.

I stepped back. "Good." I walked away, a sick feeling in my stomach as I did so.

Not long after the Quidditch match, another student was petrified. A first year. That put everyone even more on edge. Lockheart, in an attempt to distract and cheer us, started up a dueling club with Snape. There had been so much tension in my life that I'd started to avoid everyone. One day Sam talked to me and then showed up for dinner with a bruise on his jaw. I'd gotten him to admit "someone" he hadn't seen had given it to him after calling him a traitor for being friends with me. After that, I stopped even talking to Cedric. Everyone was concerned. I could see it in the faces of the friends whose eyes were trained on me at meal times and now, during our little duel club.

Harry and Malfoy went up first. It went well for a while. A good distraction. But then Draco summoned a snake. And Harry started talking to it. I felt a coldness toward the Boy Who Lived rising up in me. The Petrificiations and now this? I flashed back to the first victim. Mrs. Norris. The blood on the wall.

Enemies of the heir, beware.

The rumors of the heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets. The talk about how Salazar Slytherin was one of extremely few who could talk to snakes. A talent only his own descendants had had since.

Was Harry Potter the heir of Slytherin? A Gryffindor?

Later, when Harry would be found at the site of Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff, who were both petrified, it became even harder to not believe the possibility of it.

The thought changed everything.

It was Hermione who found me. After I'd snapped Cedric's head off he'd finally given me my space, telling me that he understood I was under a lot of pressure since I'd told him (very few details) of the run-in with Tristan the day of the Quidditch match that seemed some forever ago now. After that, I'd spent most of my time alone. Now Hermione sat across from me. Her face was so full of worry and tenderness that I couldn't bear to be angry at her. "Hello," she greeted softly.

I swallowed. "Hi."

She paused. "I overheard Neville talking to one of his friends. And of course, there's Fred and George. I mean to say, you're not alright are you?" She sighed. "I mean to say, they're worried about you. We're worried about you. And I was wondering if maybe... maybe I could help in some way?" She looked down at my work. "I could help you study."

I looked down at it too. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid..." I looked up at her. "Being your friend would make my situation... worse than it already is." She nodded, understanding but not happy about it. "If you have someone who doesn't care that I'm a Slytherin and still accepts friendships from people of other houses that isn't a Gryffindor, THAT might help."

Her eyes light up. "I actually do have someone in mind. If you were being serious?"

I paused for a long time. I had been joking before, but if she DID have someone... well honestly it was a good idea. "They'd have to be easy to be around. I can't tolerate hyper people, they annoy me."

Hermione grinned, standing up. "I'll send her over. Do you trust me?" I paused a second and then offered a small smile and nodded.

And that was how I became friends with Luna Lovegood of all people.

Luna was the one who told me Hermione was petrified. She was also the one who helped me deal with my Slytherin issue, reminding me who I was and my vow not to let what other people said affect me. She was going through something similar herself so it was only too easy to level with her. She reasoned me through my anxieties and at every revelation of myself to her, I was stunned with how she took it in stride. She still didn't know everything, but what she did know did not bother her. She was the only person who could truly defuse my pent up, hot emotions and calm me down. She was just so odd yet reasonable. It seemed like she knew every secret of the universe. It was through her I got talking to Fred and Cedric again. She joined our trio, showing up to weekend study sessions and free time hang outs. As Luna kept us calm and open-minded and Fred kept us fun, Cedric kept us responsible. I kept us alive. Despite all the jumps and scares and creepy uncertainties of what was wrong, it was easier with them in my life. It was easier with Beth and Neville.

No one could make it easier with Sam. He did pull me aside one day. "I can't be your friend this year." It nearly broke my heart and I was stunned into silence. "Not really. I mean, I expect updates from Beth still, and know that I still think of you as my friend, but... well, in years to come, Tristan won't be at Hogwarts anymore. He won't be there to push me around and make life Hell for you. I'm just tired of both of us hurting because of my brother's nastiness. Do you... understand?”

I smiled. "Yes, I do."

Beth and Sam promised to check up on me during the Summer, but for the rest of the short year, they'd keep their distance. That was okay. I had my brother and my two best friends to keep me company. Everything was fine.

Near the end of school when things reacted an all-time high level of bad, everything seemed to change. Fred tackled me in a hug. He was shaking.

Instantly my attention was diverted from my upcoming end of the year exams. "What's wrong Freddie?"

"Have you heard about Harry and the Chamber of Secrets?"

I hesitated. "I've heard rumors." He took a deep breath and it was odd because he was SO much taller than me. My body curved against his and I stood on my very tippy toes. His arms were strong against my back. "What happened? Tell me, I'm here. I'm listening." I had a HUGE soft spot for Fred that had grown over this year. Every time I even looked at him I felt... soft. Warm. Sometimes it agitated me. Sometimes it put me on high alert, like now, when I was worried about him. Sometimes it calmed me down. Usually not though.

"Ron told me there was a Basilisk. Harry hadn't said much but... big snake. Ghost of someone's past. My sister got possessed. Almost died." He said it all very quickly and very quietly in a tone that conveyed he was having a hard time believing it, even though he wouldn't doubt it happened because he trusted the source of the knowledge to tell him the truth.

Shock.

"Merlin's beard, Fred." I held him tighter, one hand rubbing his back.

"I feel so weird. Thinking of them down there. I know they're safe but... I can't explain it."

I soothingly hushed him. "It's your two youngest siblings facing potential death together. I don't blame you for being upset by that idea Fred. But they're okay, yeah? You said it yourself. It's okay to be upset though. Just know they're okay. Both of them."

He relaxed. "Your hugs make everything better. I can't believe I haven't hugged you before."

I chuckled. "Well Freddie, you can hug me anytime you need okay?"

He smiled. "Yeah okay. Cool."

I don't know what drove me to do it. Maybe the way his voice broke or the watery look in his eyes or the shake of his smile. Whatever it was, I popped up with a little bounce and kissed his forehead. He blushed and suddenly the gesture didn't feel as platonic as I'd first meant it to be. "Sorry," I stuttered. "I- I don't know what- you just- um-"

"No need to apologize." Despite his blush, he was smirking. "You can do that whenever you want as well."

I shoved him. "Shut it, Weasley."

He seemed to be joking and as I joked back the mood changed and the awkwardness passed and was forgotten. How odd a moment to exist at all really.

Once it all ended, all that was left was to go home. The Diggory's offered me to stay with them again but I got another offer from the Weasleys. Hermione and Luna were also added to the list of people who wanted letters from me to stay in touch. It was encouraging, knowing that I was making friends and making an impact.

Just like last year I met Cedric on the train, Luna joining us shortly. At first, I thought Fred wasn't coming but then Harry and Ron passed, Hermione behind them, the Weasley horde behind them. Fred paused in front of our compartment and went to join us, which brought George along too. Ginny turned around and she plopped down as well, introducing herself to me for the first time all year. "What's going on in here?" We all looked over to see Hermione, Harry, and Ron behind her.

I grinned. "Want to join us?"

"I don't think there's room for all three of us," she sighed. "But thank you for the offer. An owl at least every month, yeah? You promise?"

"I promise."

She nodded and then turned around. Harry waved goodbye and I returned the gesture. I'd dismissed my theory about him being the heir of Slytherin, even if I didn't know the details of everything. He was too... Harry.

And so my second year of Hogwarts ended.

I have to say, not too bad. Not to bad at all.

Tag List: @reddie-steddie-go

#fred weasley #harry potter #hogwarts #jk rowling #slytherin #gryffindor #gryffindor x slytherin #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagins #weasleys #weasley twins

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luffywhatelse · 6 years

Text

Even when there is no star in sight

A/N: I thought about Ed's moments of sadness, his nightmares, his guilty conscience and maybe feelings of inadequacy. And then I added Winry who helps him when he's physically and literally in pieces. It's set in Resembool, after the fight against Scar. Words: 2034 Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort Pairing: Ed x Winry Rating: T Completely immersed in water, holding his breath, he opened his eyes and came face to face with the woman who was watching him: a shiver ran down his spine and the boy sank even further, bumping on the warm bottom of the bathtub.

His mother Trisha just smiled, with chapped lips, giving way to a silence so deafening that Ed's eardrums were like about to rupture.

It's all physics, the pressure is blocking my upper airway, I need to keep calm – his thoughts were faster than light, so he just exhaled – "gas sylvester", carbon dioxide out of my lungs.

He laid still, until his survival instinct kicked in and made him emerge from the water as he continued to stare at the vivid apparition in front of him.

Now Edward was no longer holding his breath but felt trapped anyway; a cold windblast chilled him to the bones.

He kept his gaze on her, sitting on the opposite edge of the tub.

"Hi sweetheart, you need some help?"

His heartbeat quickened wildly; his eyes widened noticing her approaching him, graceful and loving as always as he stood petrified. The woman ran her fingers through her son's wet blond hair, softly touched his face, and then placed her hand on the boy's sore right shoulder.

"I was starting to think you’d forgotten me," she spoke in a sad voice kneeling at the side of the tub. "Don’t be scared of me, Ed," she whispered in his ear, her lips resting on his forehead while he blinked overwhelmed.

Then the woman moved away enough to look into his eyes, her expression became serious, her look darkened; she creeped him out.

"You’re even more feckless than you were as a child, or maybe you haven’t changed a bit," she pronounced those words a few inches from his face, looking him straight in the eyes. "Do it, Edward," she said imposing upon him but always keeping the distance, "Come to me once and for all." The boy's breathing became faster and, suddenly, in the distance, a familiar voice called his attention:

"Edo!"

He opened his eyes, immediately sat up in the middle of the tub and took a deep breath as the water spilled on the floor.

The steamy tiles in front of him looked like they were covered with tears. He sat for a moment in the ripples, clenched his left fist, grinding his teeth as a persistent ringing tormented his ears.

"Edo" the voice he thought he dreamed along with everything else was clear now. He looked up to the left, meeting those blue eyes.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing heavily until that empty silence was filled again by the sounds of life around him. He felt reassured, everything had found its place and he gradually came back to reality: the mirror above the sink was completely fogged, the towels were white and fluffy.

He instantly remembered.

~ Edward hadn’t slept very much and was in a bad mood. His automail arm was still under repair after being destroyed in a thousand pieces and even just that made him very angry; then he couldn’t even toss and turn in his bed. At times he almost got the feeling it would have been better not to have any automail: because of the fact he was used to them, he took for granted every basic movement that he shouldn’t have been able to make.

But there were still a few days of unbearable discomfort waiting for him, at least until Winry had repaired the automail. Still in bed, he rubbed his aching neck, stood up and, limping on his temporary leg, moved on to Winry's laboratory. He found her sitting, bent over the table, and working. This also irritated him: knowing that she probably didn’t go to sleep at all just to complete those repairs as quickly as he had asked her.

He felt guilty, even though he knew he needed it.

Outside it was a gloomy day, befitting his mood, and he got a little bit of a headache.

Just what I needed – he thought to himself.

He entered the bathroom and remembered when brushing his teeth with his left hand was a challenge while now, after four years of training, he was completely used to it. He opened the water in the tub. The blowing of the hot water suddenly brought him back to a few days before, during the fight with the Ishvalian who had destroyed his mechanical arm. It was raining and Edward got knocked down, on the wet ground. Scared, he had tried to back away and escape from Scar heading straight for him but, in that moment of weakness, he had practically forgotten he no longer had an arm and so, instinctively he had put his right hand on the asphalt behind him, finding himself lying facedown, slamming his right side into the puddle of rainwater, with no support. Shocked, insecure. Helpless.

If the idea of being out of play for a few days made him mad, not being sufficiently self-reliant was even worse. Despite this, he felt the need to take a bath.

With a finger he grabbed the shirt behind his neck and tried to take it off, but he was so angry that he ended up in a maze of cloth that made him feel inside a straitjacket; he got out of it finally ripping it with a disjointed movement and a roar of rage. Exasperated, he took off his boxers and slid into the tub.

He sat down and felt the anger piling up; he knew very well that it was foolish, but he couldn’t do anything about it: phantom limb pain, trouble and frustration had always had that kind of effect. They made him angry and angry, generating a circle of pathetic thoughts. Sometimes, instead of pushing him to get to the end of the matter, that whirlwind of emotions depressed him horribly. There he was: a boy of barely fifteen, a disabled and increasingly pissed off State Alchemist, who had only hard knocks throughout his life, now was also pathetic, without an arm and with a prosthesis instead of his left leg that made him seem even more invalid.

Flooded with those anxieties but extremely tired, he had ended up falling asleep in the tub, exhausted.

~ "Edo, are you alright?"

Winry was on the door and he, still lost in his thoughts and his bubble bath, saw her enter.

"Come on, I'll help you,” she said.

"Wh-what?" he asked, caught unawares.

But she didn’t give him time to reply, "You were asleep in the tub," she said. With gestures that seemed so coordinated to him, the girl knelt next to the tub and wiped away a few drops of water – or maybe they were tears he hadn’t realized crying – on his face, under his puffy and tired eyes.

A dejavu brought him back memories; she had done the exact same gesture as they were kids and he told her he was afraid Al hated him. His eyes were covered with a cold cloth that was used to help the fever go down. She had it shifted to the right, finding his tears and drying them with care and apprehension. At that moment, Edward hadn’t felt exposed after showing her his sadness. He had allowed himself to be consoled – for as much as he could find comfort in such a situation – by that touch and that look which was so full of affection that had reminded him of his mother's, in some ways.

"Can I wash your hair?" she called him back to the present.

He nodded, even this time deciding to let her do that. Conscious of the pout that still puckered his lips and that he was unable to pave, exactly like when he let his mom treat his scraped knees as a child.

"Then lift up your head."

He obeyed, adjusting his back a little. She opened the water and guided his hand to take the shower head. Ed leaned back with his torso, keeping his arm up.

The touch of Winry's hands on his head was the first pleasant experience after nearly twenty-four hours of distress and sent a bolt of pure electricity down his spine. The bad mood was dissolving as if it was washed off.

Her hands began to draw small regular circles on his skull, dwelling in some points.

Edward left his own shoulders drop a few inches, realizing he had kept them tense all the time.

"Lift your head again, so I can rinse your hair."

He raised his left arm, which he had relaxed in the meantime, and squeezed the shower head before reaching back. The soft caress of the water was pleasant, but not as much as Winry’s touch while she took great care to ensure that not even a drop fall into his eyes.

She turned the water off again.

He lowered his head, still a little lost in the pleasure of that feeling. How long had it been since he felt pampered like that? When was the last time he had dared to put his pride aside?

Like he had already done before with his tears, now Ed decided to ignore the warmth in his heart and the need to let go completely and let off steam. He stretched his lips in a grimace trying to hold back that river in flood but the sweet taste of Winry’s tenderness reassured him.

"Can I wash your back?" once again she didn’t hesitate waiting for his answer and, with the same careful gestures, neither too slow nor too fast, poured the bubble bath on her hands and then rub them together, meticulously.

The contact of her hands on his shoulders caused him another shiver and this time he wasn’t able to contain it: his whole body shook under her touch. She seemed not to notice it and ran her hands over his shoulders and arm, down to his wrist. He felt the wrinkle in the space between his eyebrows disappear. She rubbed his shoulders up to his chest with energetic gestures that weren’t sensual at all, but he still had goose bumps. He didn’t dare look at himself, his body looked awkward, so he closed his eyes and gave himself up. He felt her spread the soap on his skin, even where the skin became more sensitive to tickling.

He kept his eyes closed, his breath stuck in his throat when she stopped. It was a moment that seemed to go on forever.

What happens now? He wondered. The sound and the heat of water were the only answers to his question. She was rinsing his body, always with the greatest care, which now began getting on his nerves: Why? Why is she doing it? The question suddenly crept into Edward's mind. Not only she was working hard on his automail, giving him priority over any other job she had to complete. But now this. He felt kind of useless.

You’re even more feckless than you were as a child, those terrible words Ed’s unconscious had made his mother say were in his head like a scream that went on and on. And insecurity came back aggressively. Did Winry act out of pity? He didn’t want her pity!

Then the water stopped flowing again.

"I'll get you a towel," she said.

She wrapped his hair in the towel and, once again, he was impressed by her manual dexterity. Winry's face was a few inches from Ed's but he suddenly looked down.

“Thank you…” he whispered. His hand reach out to her and then grab her wrist, "Now just get out… please, Winry."

The girl didn’t speak but silently and gently put her hand on his shoulder and stood up.

Edward, not showing it, surrendered himself and focused on her touch. He felt Winry was truly by his side and connected to him; that wasn’t like a touch that’s perfunctory or detached, it was warm, loving, grounding and gave him a sense of calm stability that immediately made him feel safe.

And just like that, Ed felt that everything made sense again.

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