#where are you dad and why did you leave...........

[facewithoutheart]

What if Eddie got a beanie baby for Christmas one year and it’s dumb because stuffed animals are for girls and Eddie’s the Man of the House but secretly he likes his little white bear with the heart on his chest. He cuts the tag off it and his mom yells at him because they’re supposed to be worth a lot of money someday but secretly Eddie’s glad he did it. If the bear isn’t worth anything but the joy he brings to Eddie then maybe he’ll get to keep it. He does, eventually, forget about the bear. Or, he puts him on a shelf when he enters high school because high school boys don’t sleep with toys and maybe there’s some nights he sees the bear on his shelf and he thinks it might be nice to hold him but he doesn’t.

The first time Shannon comes into his bedroom she immediately sees the bear. “Who’s this little guy?” she teases and Eddie gets irrationally angry seeing it in her hands. “My stupid sisters leaving their stupid toys in my room,” he says, grabbing it out of her hands and throwing it in his bedside trash can. He waits until she’s left to fish him out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” which is dumb, so dumb, that he’s apologizing to a doll, that he’s crying.

Eddie wants to bring the bear with him to Afghanistan but he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the bear, no matter what little comfort it might bring to Eddie.

When his mom gives Christopher a stuffed bear after his birth, Eddie stares at the way Chris hugs it to his chest and wonders what would ever make him tear the toy from Chris’s hands.

Chris finds the stuffed bear when he moves to El Paso. It’s weird, how he wants it to sit on his nightstand, but not as weird as the tight look his abuela gets when she sees it. “Where did you find that?” Chris shrugs. “Behind some books in the closet.” Chris becomes fascinated with the bear. He looks it up online. Valentino. There’s a little red stain over one eye, maybe someone spilled something on it. He sends a picture to Buck. “He kind of reminds me of you.” “Yeah, Superman! He does! How are you doing?????” Chris doesn’t reply.

When Chris is packing up his items to move back to LA, he doesn’t think about it when he throws the bear into his suitcase. He puts it on a shelf when he gets back home. Nothing else has changed about his room; his dad kept it exactly the way he left it, so the bear sticks out. “Where’d you get that?” His dad asks when he sees the bear, his hands are flinching into fists by his side. Chris’s breath picks up. “You can’t be mad at me for taking him. You obviously didn’t want him; you left him behind!” “I’m not mad,” Chris’s dad lies. “Yes, you are. You are!” “Okay! I’m a little mad!” “Why?!”

“Because he was mine!”

Eddie takes a breath. He looks at his son. He loves him so, so, so much. “Because he was mine,” Eddie says, “but I wasn’t … I never felt like I was allowed to have him.” This time, Chris’s question comes out softer, more earnest, “Why?”

It’s not easy to put into words all the ways the world has shaped Eddie into a form he barely recognizes, but he tries. For his son, he’ll always try. At the end, Chris walks over with the bear. He places it in his dad’s hands. “I think you need this more than I do.”

Eddie laughs and thumbs over where his sister spilled cherry koolaid on him the one time he let her play with Bear.

“He kind of looks like Buck, doesn’t he?”

Eddie holds Bear to his chest. He squeezes tightly.

“Yeah. He does.”

[nerdygirlramblings]

more Adam, meeting Ren's family, setting up Simon's rut

a/n: getting to the best part of this idea arc is taking longer than anticipated. hopefully the rut and big talks next chapter 🤞🏻

cw: omegaverse biology (male pregnancy, ruts / knots), fluid sexuality

previous

Before you leave, you make sure to swing by the base admin building. The cold sterility of the grey hallways makes you sad, but Adam's desk near Price's office is always a ray of sunshine. He isn't at his desk, but his lemon cinnamon scent lingers and is perfectly accentuated by the succulents on the shelf. The space feels warm and bright despite being several halls away from a window. There are photos of several task forces tacked over the copy machine. The 141's photo is recent as you're in it, but you have no idea where it's from or how Adam has it.

He comes over as you're staring at the image. You point at it as he sits down and trip over yourself, asking, "Where is that from? How did you get it?"

He interrupts with a finger across his lips and whispers, "I never give away my secrets."

The train of thought barreling away seizes and you stop cold, a smile slowly breaking through. You chuckle and remember why you're here in the first place. "Hey, I wan'ed to thank ya for suggesting to Price I head home for leave."

He starts to wave off your thanks, but the words dry on his lips when you place a pint of Magnum Classic and two Flake bars next to his keyboard. He gives you a look of pure adoration as he stutters, "What in the...how did you know?"

You smile indulgently. "I listen, just like you do," you tell him with a wink. "Don't wait too long to eat that. 'S probably best if ya don't refreeze th' Magnum. And I know if ya try and wait 'til ya get home, Charlie will try an' steal it from ya." You couldn't count the number of times Adam told you about how he and his pack's alpha often fought over sweets around the house to the point where Bridget, the pack omega, kept separate stashes for them both. You loved hearing about Adam's pack. It made you miss your family a little less when he spoke about his.

Adam stands again and walks around the desk to where you are. He holds his arms open in invitation, and you step into the hug. He squeezes you tight for a moment before stepping back. Still holding your shoulders, he says, "Enjoy this time with your family. Be good. Have fun, but not too much. And come back safe, yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah, Adam. I'll be good." Your ride to town leaves soon, and then its a four-hour train ride home. If all the transportation runs on time, you'll be home for supper and can help Mum cook. You feel a little guilty about not letting Dad and the moms you're coming home, but you hope the surprise of your presence will make up for it.

The house doesn't look any different. The brick is a little more weather-beaten than when you joined up, but the shape of the house is unchanged. Three skinny stories with black shingles on top. The dormer windows on the third floor belie the open plan of that floor with the family nest along the back wall. That's where Dad is until the birth. From the curb, all you can see is the pale blue curtains. Somewhere in the back of the house, Mum is probably already starting on supper, Mama corralling your brothers and sisters.

You push the front gate open and step onto the flagstone walk. It cuts across a neat patch of green grass, though you notice the bikes tucked inside the front wall. Clearly with Dad on bed rest, your siblings are taking liberties with putting those in the garage.

Not for the first time, you second-guess the surprise of this visit. You know Mum and Mama won't say how worried they are about Dad and the litter, but you see it in their eyes when you call. Dad, too, teases about being on bed rest, but the last two losses weigh heavily on him.

You take a deep breath and knock. There's nothing for a few moments, but you hear scurrying behind the door and can imagine the triplets arguing about who gets to open it. Your middle siblings may or may not be home from uni, and if they are, they're not going to race for the door like the fifteen-year-olds. The door opens a crack and an eye peeks out. When it catchs sight of you, the owner squeals - must by Norah - and the door flings wide. "You're home!" Norah crows, throwing herself at you. "You're home! You're home!"

"I'm here," you echo, hugging her back. You look over her shoulder for the boys. Ben is making his way to you, but Davy isn't in sight. As he closes in, Ben pushes Norah out of the way and pulls you inside. "Mama was just going to call you," he says. "Or maybe she already called, since you're here?" You shake your head. "Anyway, the moms are going to take Dad to the birth centre-" Your gasp stops him mid-ramble, and his eyes go as wide as saucers. "Oh! No! They don't think this is bad. Mum said something about Dad's internal temperature increasing. They think the litter's ready."

You barely hear Ben's last words as you race to the back of the house and find Mama pacing the kitchen. She stops short when she sees you and flings herself into your arms. "Oh God, oh love, what are you doing here?" she half laughs, half cries, phone cradled in one hand.

"Had some leave coming and thought I'd surprise you. But it looks like I'm the one in fer a surprise!"

Mama's laughter is bright, light and happy. "Yes, you are. Mum's getting Dad's bag. They should be coming down now." She hugs you tight. "I know you just got here, but do you mind waiting here with the triplets?" she whispers into your hair.

Your laughter matches hers. "Not at all, Mama." You definitely owe Adam for suggesting you take leave and come home. You might have missed this otherwise. You shoo Mama to go grab some of her own things, listening for Mum and Dad on the stairs, while you pull together a small bag of waters and snacks for them. You toss in the crisps Mum hides but will want when she stress eats and the candy you know Dad will crave once he's allowed to eat again. You also put some healthy options in for all three otherwise Mama will scold the others the whole time and you do not want to induce that stress.

By the time the moms and Dad are in the front hall, you've pulled the car into the drive, put the snacks in the front seat, and opened all the doors. You help Mum get Dad comfortably into the back seat. Neither was as surprised to see you as you thought, so Mama must have give them a warning when she went to gather her things.

You kiss Dad's temple as you help him settle, then steady Mum with a squeeze to her hand. "Have ya called Michael or Helen yet?" you ask, leaning through the passenger side window. From the look Mama gives Mum you know they haven't. "I'll do it before you're out of the drive," you tell them. Mama puts the car in gear and backs out. You follow, shouting at them to keep you updated. You stand at the bottom of the drive long after their car disappears around the corner.

The team pack is pulling up to their house in the Lake District about the same time as your parents leave. Unlike your family's home in its neat little row on the outskirts of the city you grew up in, the pack's house sits on land nestled between the Irish Sea and the western edge of the Lake District. The cottage, or what was a quaint cottage before the pack expanded the buildings and outbuildings on the property, is a slight distance from any lakes or towns means they're fairly isolated. They're not entirely off the grid, but Laswell and Adam know not to reach them for the next week. They haven't told you to go no contact: though you aren't pack yet, none of them are ready to go more than a week without hearing your voice or seeing your face.

Price is already making plans for how long he'll give you before he reaches out to check in. His presence during Ghost's rut is more of a formality as the pack alpha. When they established themselves as a pack, Price's and Ghost's alpha-only ruts were rough. Both men bear a number of scars from the warring instinct to rut and to fight another alpha. Neither man was averse to a cock in his ass, but being bitched was another matter altogether, both alphas struggling to take the others' knot until they had first Gaz then Soap join the pack.

Price's role this week is making sure there is enough food and water for Ghost and whomever is helping him. There's a pallet of waters in the boot and a wholesale box of granola bars. While Soap and Gaz unpack the car, Price sets up the bed in the first floor master suite with protective pads. Price also makes up an air mattress in the second floor office. It's not comfortable, but for a handful of days, it's doable. He works hard not to think about his rut in a few months. How, if you're pack by then, he won't take his rut with Gaz or Soap but with you, sinking into your slick heat.

next

He knows Ghost's struggling with having you on the team but not part of the pack yet, which is why he brought a little treat for Ghost. As they rolled out of their barracks, Price grabbed the throw blanket from the rec room couch and shoved it into a plastic tote. It was a shared blanket, yes, but you'd been wrapping yourself up in it the last few days because the barracks were too cold for your omega. Despite your scent blockers keeping them from your true smell, there's a lingering scent of citrus from your toiletries. Any of them would recognize it. Price pulls the blanket out and leaves it in the middle of the master bed for Ghost, even though his own alpha growls and scratches about giving the scent of you away.

It's going to be a long week.

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden @mordacioust

[burningembers91]

Money Makes the World Go Round - Suh Seok-Woo x Fem!Reader

tagging: @shittyprofilebutfuckit

Synopsis: Consumed by his role as a Fund Manager, Suh Seok-Woo hires you to care for his daughter and mother. But when you seem to know more about his own family than he does, will Seok-Woo be willing to change? Or will he discard you, his beautiful house keeper, just like he discarded everyone else he's ever cared for.

A/N: Every time i watch this film, I go through a rollercoaster of emotions with this character. He's such a selfish shit in the beginning, but so selfless at the end, and that's the vibe i'm going for.

Suh Seok-Woo was a selfish bastard, unashamedly so. He’d been that way his whole life, for reasons his own mother couldn’t quite fathom. Everything he did, he did with himself at the forefront of his mind. It was why he was so good at his job, why he didn’t flinch when he had to tell people that their life savings had disappeared, simply because the market had changed. “You knew the risks when you chose to invest,” he’d explain, not bothering to keep the bored tone from his voice as he listened to his clients sob down the phone, begging him for help. If people didn’t understand the risks, they shouldn’t invest; it wasn’t rocket science.

 It wasn’t that Seok-Woo didn’t care about people; he was just very selective about those he chose to give his time to. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his daughter, sparing no expense for her happiness, buying her all the latest toys and tech, making sure all her clothes were designer and bang on trend. He opened his home to his ailing mother, giving her a life of luxury when she’d spent most of hers looking after him. His daughter and his mother were Seok-Woo’s world, and he simply didn’t have time for anyone else. It was why his marriage hadn’t lasted, why his ex-wife had upped and left, demanding half of everything even though he was the one who had worked hard to provide her with the lifestyle she’d become so accustomed to. She’d spent 8 years leeching off him, and he refused to entertain her any longer. That was why Seok-Woo was selfish; he’d learned at an early age that there were people who gave, and people who took. People who gave were fools, taken advantage of and bled dry due to their misguided attempts to be good people. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and he wasn’t sharing anything with those who didn’t deserve it.

Funding the lifestyle he wanted came at a price though. He barely saw his daughter, out of the house before she woke up, and returning home long after she’d gone to bed. It was a small price to pay though, and he was sure Soo-An was grateful for the gifts he often left her. His mother tried to tell him that his daughter needed her father, but Seok-Woo had explained many times that he worked hard to provide his little girl with everything she could possibly want. He even hired the best housekeeper, someone who took care of things day to day, provided only the best care for his daughter and mother, and someone who could help Soo-Ann with her schoolwork and extra-curricular activities.

You’d come highly recommended by the agency, your qualifications exemplary. You kept Seok-Woo’s home in working order, making sure he wanted for nothing. You cared for him family, providing Soo-An with the love and stability that her father didn’t realise was lacking. You loved his little girl, and his mother too, but you couldn’t stand the man who paid you to take care of his home. It astounded you that Seok-Woo couldn’t see his daughter didn’t want the latest gaming console, or the newest pair of sneakers that she’d outgrow in a few months anyway. All she wanted was for her dad to be there for her, to ask her about her day and attend her school performances. He couldn’t see that his mother’s arthritis was getting worse, that some days even the most basic of tasks were near impossible for her. You’d thought a few times about leaving, but if you didn’t look after them, who would?

Seok-Woo was rude, and conceited, so wrapped up in his own world that he didn’t have time for anyone else. Your daily conversations took place each morning and night, where he would tell you what he needed doing, and you’d debrief him on daily events. Sometimes you wondered whether you were his housekeeper, or his personal assistant. He was so cold, so aloof, and yet so strikingly handsome that it floored you every time you looked at him. You couldn’t understand how a many with the sweetest, warmest eyes could be the coldest person.

You often assumed Seok-Woo didn’t notice you, that you were nothing more than a faceless presence that kept his home and family in order; but that wasn’t true. You were beautiful, and whenever he spoke to his mother and daughter, they consistently sang your praises. Seok-Woo often added little bonuses on to your paychecks, to let you know he thought you were doing an excellent job. The extra money never went unnoticed, but it annoyed you that your boss couldn’t just outright tell people that he was grateful for them.

“Thank you for the extra money,” you said to him one night. “No problem.” He was already engrossed in his phone, responding to emails despite fact it was 11pm. “I may be speaking out of line here, but you don’t always need to give people something to show how you feel. Sometimes it’s just nice to hear that you think we’re doing a good job.” Seok-Woo looked at you, confusion plastered to his face. Gifts, money, that’s what people wanted. No one ever got anywhere by hearing something nice said about them. You could see he didn’t understand, so you tried a different approach. “Soo-An would really like you to go to her next recital. She’d rather you were there to watch her sing. She doesn’t want another Nintendo Switch, or a new dress.”

The two of you stood staring at each other, the ticking of the kitchen clock the only sound in the room. You’d overstepped the mark, you could tell, but you’d never met anyone as emotionally unavailable as Seok-Woo. “Sorry,” you mumbled, “I was out of line. Goodnight, Mr Suh.” You headed off into your room, leaving Seok-Woo staring at the space where you’d just stood. No one had ever told him they didn’t want something, especially when it was money. He thought back to all the gifts he’d given Soo-An, all the new Nintendo games, and clothes, and new dolls. She’d always said thank you, but her smile had never reached her eyes. His mother had always been grateful for the jewellery that he given her, but had she really wanted it? When he’d fought with his ex, he’d made it up to her with gifts, but never once said sorry.

Maybe you were right. Maybe it was only him who needed material goods to be happy. But when he’d spent his whole life focused on nothing but riches, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to change.

[almostfoxglove]

I wish you would bless us by writing a lil drabble about Javi

You two dated but you got sent back to the states and he had to stay in Columbia. You go back after a year and pick up where you left off and it's sweet and lovely because so much happened to him in that year

✉️ I wish you would write...

HI HONEY BEE omg. okay. listen. you know how I feel about javi & angst but also javi & love so HEAR ME OUT HERE OKAY, JUST STICK WITH ME. I'm gonna have to pop this under a cut because I've never once in my life been concise.

let's say you're the same girl javier falls for first,

and you used to work at the us embassy, one floor below his desk. spent your days with your head down and no small number of nights waiting up after javier called, telling you he was on his way. you only ever got twenty minutes warning, tops. often less. sometimes you wondered if he'd called you from the car, like he'd taken off toward you apartment before remembering to tell you he was coming.

for a year, you fucked on and off as his job or interest allowed. for you it was the perfect, pressure-free release. for javier, it was torture. having you like that, taking you apart as you unraveled him, always plagued by this nag at the base of his skull, greedy and vicious, that wanted more. he thought you'd eventually ask him to stay the night, or ask him for coffee, breakfast, anything, but you never did.

then your dad got sick. or your mom? he doesn't know. all he knows is that one day he goes into work and on his casual, totally unrelated but necessary loop past your cubicle, you are gone. desk cleared off. that little photo frame of you and another girl—your sister, he always guessed—vanished. your coworker, when they catch him staring, says you had to leave. that someone is dying back home and you went back to be with them while you could.

he nods, maybe grunts, and is gone, a cigarette already lighting itself in the cup of his hand. swallowing the bitter scorn he briefly feels rising in his throat that you didn't tell him shit. didn't even bother to say goodbye.

because you didn't have to, he thinks. he sure as hell hasn't told you shit about his life back in the states. so why the fuck should he care? why does he?

he doesn't have any way to contact you, but javier knows himself. he wouldn't call even if he did.

a year later, you return to colombia and cross the concrete slab outside the embassy. in your absence, escobar has died and the cali cartel has risen like cerberus in his place. you steel yourself as you approach the pewter steps, hoping you might slip back into the routine of the job you left behind without any fanfare. you don't want to explain your absence—you want to pretend it never happened. you just want to do your job.

but javier is smoking on the steps, and he sees you coming. and though neither of you ever really acknowledged each other at work in all the time you slept together—not even passing hellos—you watch in mild horror as he drops the cigarette from his hand, crushes it under his polished shoe, and stomps down the steps in your direction.

he looks different. you've never seen him in a tie, let alone a whole suit. your steps slow as his legs scissor the distance, crossing the courtyard as if nothing at all exists beyond the two of you. your frown doesn't phase him, your halting. nor the half-baked "what the hell are you—" that you get out before he's made it to you and yanks you against his chest.

he reeks of smoke and nerves. the only time you've felt the iron-grip of his embrace this tight is during particularly vigorous fucks, and they always, always unlatched the moment you were both done.

and yet javier is hugging you, tightly. out here in the open, with other people milling about, sometimes turning their heads to catch a sidelong glance at the man who mumbles into your hair, "m'sorry" with a strange awe in their eyes, like he's some kind of celebrity.

his voice, though, carries none of that vanity. he sounds throttled, ruined, wrecked. it is the shock, you think, that has you allowing this display. that has your arms cautiously, loosely wrapping around his waist, too stunned to process anything but a single question: what the hell happened to him.

you don't know what he's apologizing for. you don't know what strange, alternate dimension you've found yourself in. "javi—" you whisper eventually, arms slacking as if to pull away, but javier's grip only crunches tighter around your frame.

you aren't sure why your heart skips over itself.

you aren't sure why a little part of you, dazed as it might be, likes that he won't let go.

"hermosa," he mumbles, his breath hot in your hair. "m'sorry."

[joaosnovia]

Can you do one of kenan liking reader who’s a family friend and can it be like reader is moving to Turin because she’s and influencer so she got a nice apartment and has to set up and kenan finds out by his mom and dad so he uses that to get closer to her (before he was shy) and then the end can be all you

❦ - match made in turin.

summary:: kenan has always had a crush on you but distance always held him back. you finally moved to turin, leaving a huge surprise.

warnings:: uhh none?

writers notes:: i have sm kenan requests i love it

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan yildiz had a crush.

a long, painfully obvious, yet entirely unspoken crush.

it had started when he was younger, back when you were just ‘a family friend’, someone he saw at gatherings, during summer vacations, or whenever your families crossed paths. back then, he’d been too shy to talk to you much. and even now, despite growing older, despite playing for one of the biggest clubs in italy, despite all the confidence he had on the pitch, when it came to you, kenan still found himself fumbling.

which was why, when he found out you were moving to turin, it was from his parents and not you.

‘did you hear?’ his mother had said over dinner, her voice casual, unaware of how her words would completely upend kenan’s night. ‘she’s moving here. got a new place and everything. apparently, she’s arriving next week.’

kenan, mid bite, nearly choked. he coughed, reaching for his water as his dad chuckled.

‘you alright?’ his dad asked, though the amused look in his eyes made kenan suspect he knew exactly what was going on in his head.

his mom continued, oblivious. ‘i told her to let us know if she needs anything. she’ll probably need help setting up the apartment.’

kenan was barely listening at this point. all he could think about was that you were moving here. to his city. for the first time, he wouldn’t have to wait for random family gatherings or holidays to see you—you’d be here, close, a part of his everyday life.

and maybe, just maybe, this was the excuse he needed to finally do something about this crush he’d been harboring for years.

when you landed in turin, you barely had time to breathe before your phone lit up with a message from kenan.

kenan: heard you moved in today. need help with anything?

it was unexpected. not that kenan wasn’t friendly, he was. but you’d always been the one to reach out first, the one to keep conversations going when he got quiet. this was new.

you: wow, look who’s being proactive.
you: but yeah, actually. i still have to set up some furniture.

his reply came almost instantly.

kenan: omw.

and just like that, you had company.

when kenan showed up at your new place, he looked different, not physically, but in the way he carried himself. he still had that soft awkwardness, the quiet confidence, but there was something else too. a kind of determination.

‘hey,’ he said, stepping inside. ‘so where’s the furniture?’

‘straight to the point, huh?’ you teased, closing the door behind him.

he only shrugged, fighting back a grin. ‘i’m here to help, aren’t i?’

you led him to the mess of boxes and half-assembled furniture in your living room. he took one look at it, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

and that was how the next few hours went, building, unpacking, and somewhere along the way, talking more than you ever had before. kenan was still the same, thoughtful, a little reserved, but now, he wasn’t hesitating. he asked questions, told stories, even made you laugh a few times.

it felt easy. natural. like this had always been the way things were supposed to go.

by the time the last piece of furniture was in place, the sun had set, casting a warm glow through your new apartment.

‘not bad,’ kenan said, surveying the space.

‘yeah,’ you agreed, stretching your arms over your head. ‘couldn’t have done it without you.’

he looked at you then, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between you. something that had been building for years but never fully acknowledged.

you smiled. ‘guess i owe you dinner or something.’

his lips twitched, as if he was fighting the urge to smile too wide. ‘i wouldn’t say no to that.’

you nodded toward the kitchen. ‘i think i have instant ramen.’

he laughed, shaking his head. ‘or we could go somewhere actually good.’

‘wow, okay, mr. fancy.’

he only shrugged, but there was a spark of something in his eyes. something that told you this wasn’t just about dinner. it was about something more.

and maybe, finally, you were both ready for it.

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

You're My Coney Island Baby

Summary: Julie headcanons

TW/CWs: None

A/N: Whipped up some headcanons + her relationships with the club. This is a quick thing I did cause I wanted to get it out there before I forgot lol

NAME: Julie (no one really knows her last name)

FAVORITE SHIT: Barbie, Bratz, Rainbow Brite, Strawberry Shortcake, Teen magazines, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Keanu Reeves, Juicy Couture, Lisa Frank, Paris Hilton, Hillary Duff, Romcoms 

Moved from Wall Street to Eltingville so her dad could take care of her sick grandma. If you let her, she’ll rant about how sucky it is “living in the forgotten borough” and wishes she was back at the penthouse

Very shy. Like, to the degree where she’ll take a dangerous path back home just to avoid her peers at school. 

A HUGE room. Stepping in makes you feel like you’re in a Disney Channel set; animal print bed sheets, shelves upon shelves of dolls she collected (from childhood to actual collector’s item), as long as a toy chest with stuff she still plays with. That’s not even getting into her closet or bookshelves

Speaking of shelves, they’re filled to the brim with those teen magazines. She follows them like the Bible itself. To her, they’re the only source in which she can learn how to be a “normal” teen (this often translates to awkward fashion choices)

Overweight, so shopping is done exclusively through Torrid or those older women stores (IE; Lane Bryant, Avenue). It embarrasses her that she has to shop there for her clothing, but she makes do. 

Often carries a Juicy Couture bag with her, containing an IPod, sketchbook, hand cream, pads, loose chapsticks, tickets she can’t let go of, and maybe a hair tie to put her hair in a loose ponytail. 

Undiagnosed autism. Her father, while a good man, just thinks she’s “different”. Sure, he’s concerned about why she collects dolls past the age of 10, but still buys them for her cause it’s all she really talks about. She also has tics that are considered “unnerving”, but she usually masks those in order to “fit in”

Dreams of working at Dark Horse. Will often spend her free time drawing comics and pin up poses to “develop her style” (it often just ends up being drawings of her crushes)

Surprisingly socially alright in school. She has her clique of friends (who like similar things to her) and is in mock trial. Other than that, she really sticks to the library or the art room.

Speaking of art (yet again), loves analog photography. It’s sort of a hobby of hers; she’ll take pictures using a camera she purchased, send it to Walgreens and get the final products. If she’s desperate/really proud, she’ll pay for a darkroom to develop prints. 

Overall a nice person, once you get past her extreme social awkwardness. 

RELATIONSHIP TO THE ELTINGVILLE CLUB

JERRY: They tolerate each other AT BEST. She absolutely hates fantasy/tabletop games, and gets both bored and confused with DnD. That’s a no go for Jerry, so they normally avoid each other. 

However, they do well as work partners (if you forced them to). Julie thinks he has potential to be a nice person, until he opens up his mouth, then she says “Oh yeah. That’s why I hate him.” At their worst, they’re not afraid of getting physical with each other (who wins these fights? Flip a coin).

JOSH: HATES HIM. Hates him with her whole being, and the feeling is mutual. She’s often mocked for being “Josh’s twin” due to their similar appearance (Overweight, curly hair, likes nerdy things, recluse) and it absolutely pisses each other off. For Josh, he hates that he’s being compared to a “Preppy Jabba the Hutt”. For Julie, it’s being compared to “An overweight monster you see in those Barbie movies”. 

If they see each other in the same room, they’ll have a “stand off” until one of them goes (usually Julie, as she hates confrontation). However, she’s more likely to win the physical altercation, as simply sitting on his chest and wailing him leaves him a crying mess (but he’s better at insults than her). Overall, put them in a “This is our get-along shirt” if you want to see a fight happening between them. 

PETE: Who? She just thinks he’s weird because of his love for guts and horror, and Pete doesn’t really pay attention to her. 

BILL: She actually met Bill at Joe’s Comic Book shop. She hates to admit this…she did find him cute…like, actually cute, until he opened up his mouth. 

Like Josh, they can't stand each other. They’re two sides of the same coin, and will butt heads over everything. Julie’s not afraid of humiliating herself if it means she wins the argument against Bill (goes double for Bill as well).

However, in the deepest corners of her mind, she has a terrible crush on Bill. That sketchbook is filled to the brim of drawings of Bill as Ken and her as Barbie, living in the dream house. She sometimes dreams about them being Trinity and Neo, John and Claire, Cady and Arron. It sickens her, but also leaves her feeling fuzzy and vulnerable, and that alone makes her want to crawl up and become a black hole. 

Bill doesn’t feel the same way (just don’t ask him who he dreams about in place of Tasha Yar…or Wonder Woman…or Emma Frost

[pixeldistractions]

They dried themselves and their clothes in the sun. It was too much sun, maybe. Their skin felt warm and threatened to turn pink and blistery later. They put their clothes back on and started the hike back to camp. 

The afternoon had been peaceful while they splashed in the water, but now the boys were tired and hungry for a warm dinner cooked over a campfire. Their tempers were short, and the mosquitoes didn’t help.  

“Hey, boys, quiet down. Come check this out.” 

“Whoa! Is she gonna fall?” (Milo)

“Is she gonna die?!?” (Felix)

“No. I mean, I hope not,” Jordan said.  

“Dad, did you ever climb a rock like that?” Milo asked.

“Not like that. WOW, that’s wild.” 

The climber swung her body from rock to rock, hanging by fingertips and toes, yet she clung to the rock with purpose and skill. It was impressive.

Felix looked ready to charge the cliff face himself. “Dad, can I climb that rock?”

“Not today,” Jordan said. “You need to learn how. You need ropes and harnesses and different kind of shoes.”

“Can we buy them at the camp store?”

“Nah, not today. But you can climb that little rock over there.” 

So the boys ran off to scramble over a lesser rocky slope, dreaming of that giant cliff face ahead of them. They weren’t the only ones dreaming.

Jordan thought of the brochure in his pack for the climbing classes. He thought of impossibilities and setting them on fire. And why not? He was sick of caring about what Colette thought of his life. He was sick of not living.

There was a fire lit inside him in that moment. It was a small and exciting fire, a contained little glow. Its possibilities were endless and undefined. How could he know that little fire wouldn’t die when he went to sleep tonight? That it would still burn when he returned back home to Wisconsin? That it could even grow into a raging inferno strong enough to burn down his whole life?  

— “why are you here? #3: a cage left open” part 6.5/9

Next -> // WAYH #3 start // index

author’s note: so, this whole flashback story serves a few different purposes. First, obviously, it’s a prequel to where we left off in book 5. It’s also an expanded beginning for those who are starting fresh. And, an origin story! When I first started writing this saga, Jordan already had one foot out the door, tickets already bought, he was already leaving. But as the story went on, I realized how we never got to see how he came to that decision. The moment the rocks called to him and set fire to his life. Here it is!

[dandylion240]

Stress was building inside him to the point he felt like he would explode at any moment. He hated not knowing where his brother was. Not knowing if he was alright. Most of all he hated not being able to do anything about it. Sighing Casey picked up Eddie from his crib.

“Daddy sad?” Eddie snuggled into him sensing something but unsure what.

“Yes Eddie I am,” Casey looked at his son feeling his small arms slip around his neck, “not so much now.” Holding his son while thinking about Robert he wondered if he’d be able to do what Robert did to keep his family together. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to leave everything and everyone behind. He hoped he’d never have to find out.

While he waited for Lynn to arrive to watch Eddie his phone began to ring “Hello?”

“Mr. Bennett?” a voice inquired.

“Yes,” he replied.

“This is the nanny agency calling regarding the allegations of harassment that were filed several months ago.”

Heart quickening Casey fumbled the phone in his hands almost dropping it “and.” he nearly shouted.

“We have elected not to pursue the allegations further; however Ms. Matthews is no longer employed by the agency. We will be glad to send over another nanny to replace ….”

“What?” Casey yelled into the phone. “You can’t just fire her for no reason. Those allegations were false ….”

“It wasn’t our decision to dismiss Ms. Matthews.” The dispassionate voice continued “she gave notice ….”

No longer listening to the voice droning on Casey threw the phone across the room. She quit. How could she quit? Quit and not told him. Falling to his knees as the room spun around him. ‘No she can’t leave.’ He wouldn’t let her leave. Taking a deep breath he pulled himself off the floor. He went to get Eddie dressed and for the first time in Casey’s carefully scheduled life he didn’t give a second thought to his responsibilities or obligations.

Storming into his parents house, carrying Eddie in his arms he yelled “Lynn get your ass out here.”

William looked at his son and down at Eddie, wide-eyed and scared, he got to his feet and took his grandson and nodded Casey towards Lynn’s room. It was about time his son acknowledged his feelings for her, he could only hope it wasn’t too late.

Taking several deep breaths before he barged through the door without knocking. Stopping short as he saw Lynn calmly packing her suitcase. She looked up “what do you want?”

“I want … I want ….” Casey stammered trying to draw up words from his befuddled brain that had gone completely blank. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m leaving, isn’t it obvious?” she said waving her hands at her things in various states of being packed.

“I can see that, but why?” Casey moved closer, hands clinching. “The agency dropped the charges and told me you quit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped at him, her green eyes sizzling.

“Is this some sort of punishment?” he ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “You’re the one who said no not me. I’m the idiot who wanted to marry you.” She turned away grabbing more clothes from the dresser. Casey reached for her trying to get her to turn around “Lynn please I love you.”

“Love! You don’t love me. You like the idea of taking care of me.” Getting close she yelled in his face “I don’t need to be taken care of. I can take care of myself.”

“Is that what you think?” Casey stepped back releasing her “you’re not some project to me. Lynn I love you, no strings attached.” He turned and walked towards the door. Stopping he looked back at her unrelenting demeanor. He shrugged “if you don’t know the difference between love and obligation, there’s not much I can do to convince you.” Shaking his head he muttered “why do I even try? “

With a heavy heart he went in search of his son. Finding him in the nursery “dad can Eddie stay her for a few days?”

“Sure son we have plenty of things he can wear. You don’t need to worry about bringing anything for him,” William suggested.

Smiling Casey nodded grateful his dad knew he wouldn’t want to come back and run the chance of seeing Lynn again. “Thanks dad. I’ll call when I’ve had a chance to clear my head.

“Son I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had asked her to marry you. I thought she was upset because you hadn’t told her how you felt about her.” William looked at him with concern “if you need to talk I’m here.”

“I know dad I appreciate it. But I’ll be ok. I just need time to clear my head.”

Hugging Eddie “you’re going to sleep over for a while with Suzie and Anthony.” Eddie nodded his head excited to spend time with his playmates. “Be good for Grandpa.”

“I will daddy,” smiling Casey handed Eddie to his father and slowly left the room.

“Casey?” a soft voice called to him. Looking up he saw Lynn standing outside her room. “Can we talk?”

“Haven’t we said everything there is to say?” he shot back at her “or have you changed your mind?” He leaned against the wall refusing to show the hope that filled his heart.

“No I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I just …. I don’t know ….. can’t we be friends?”

“Friends?” he scoffed “I don’t want to be friends. I want you to be my wife. Not out of some misguided idea of taking care of you, but because I love you. I want you. Heart, soul and body because we complete each other.” Eyes shimmering he looked at her hoping she would change her mind.

Looking away she mumbled “I don’t know I …. I …. need time.”

“Fine take all the time you need. Run away see if I care.” He pushed off the wall and stormed out of the house. Slamming the door behind him.

He had no idea where he was going just that he had to put as much distance between him and her as he could. Tires squealing as he rounded the corner. He fought the urge to let the momentum slam his car into the passing trees. Oblivion would be nice. Block out all the pain. The anxiety. The worry. Stomping on the brakes he missed the tree by mere inches. Throwing the car into park, he leaned against the steering wheel. Heart racing he closed his eyes to black out what almost happened. How could he have been so reckless? For a split second he thought he was going to do it. He almost did do it. At the last moment Eddie’s face flashed before him, the moment he stomped on the brakes.

Shaking his head he dragged himself out of the car. Trembling he leaned against it. Shaking he wrapped his arms around himself, what was he thinking? He had always thought Gene was a coward for attempting suicide. Now on the other side of the darkness that could drive a person to it, he had a new perspective. He had a new respect for what his brother must carry around inside him.

He really needed someone to talk to before succumbing to something stupid. Patting his pockets, then searching the car he mumbled “where did I put it? I never leave home without my phone.” Overwhelmed with the sudden urge to either laugh or scream he remembered his phone was lying in pieces on his living room floor where it had collided with the wall.

Punching the steering wheel he screamed. Throwing the car into gear, he knew he should turn around. He had every intention of turning around instead he found himself stopping in front of Roberts abandoned house. “Where are you brother? I need you.” Giving up all sense of time and propriety he gave in to his pent-up emotions.

He must have cried himself to sleep as tried to stretch the kinks from his body. He had woke up laying across the front seat with the middle console digging into his side. Moaning he rubbed the soreness in his body. Looking at the dash 11:00. ‘Good thing I left Eddie with dad,’ he thought. Staring sullenly at the dark silent house he wished his brother was there to give the advice he needed or a shoulder to cry on. Lost and alone he had a desire to punch Robert for not being there for him. Guilt quickly replaced the anger. Getting out of the car he knew he should go home or at least back to his parents house Neither place held any appeal as Lynn’s face intruded into his thoughts. Why wouldn’t she say yes and marry him? Why did she insist he was only asking out of a misguided need to protect her? Why did all the women in his life not love him back? What was wrong with him?

He drove, not knowing or caring where. Eventually he stopped in front of a building. Getting out he walked to the door, upon entering his senses were assaulted by loud music, vibrating deep within him. Wrinkling his nose at the alcohol stench as someone belched in his face. ‘This is a bad idea’ he told himself as he approached the bar. ‘I should just turn around now,’ he said as someone knocked into him on their way to the bathroom. What was he doing here? This wasn’t his scene at all. He should just go home but home was dark and lonely. Sighing he sat on the stool as the bartender placed a drink in front of him “I didn’t order this.”

Shrugging “you look like you can use it. Drink it don’t drink it. Your choice.”

Casey eyed the drink ‘one won’t hurt’ he sighed as he took a sip. It had a fruity taste with ahint of alcohol, not bad. It was gone before he knew it and another replaced it. As the night wore on he felt his anxiety lift and he was finally able to relax.

Something was scratching his face as he groaned causing his head to ache even worse than it was already. What happened? Prying open puffy red eyes he blinked from the sunlight peaking through the broken shades. Where was he? The scratchy surface beneath his face smelled of stale smoke and vomit. Pushing up he nearly fell off the couch he had been sleeping on. Head swimming, bile rose and he added his own vomit to the already putrid smelling couch.

Rolling off the couch he laid his head down as tried to piece together the events of the night before. Maybe it would give him a clue as to where he was. Closing his eyes he heard someone clear their throat behind him “good you’re awake.”

He knew that voice, the bartender. “Wh … where am I?” he croaked through cracked dry lips.

“Room behind the bar. You were too drunk to drive last night,” she laughed behind him. “Gene would love to see you like this.”

Casey squinted his eyes at her, groaning as he recognized her. She was the girl who had given Gene drugs for the first time back in high school. “Great, just great,” he mumbled.

“How the mighty have fallen,” she laughed again “too bad Gene has turned to the other side. He used to be a lot of fun.” Kneeling down she said loudly “now get up and get out.”

“Don’t worry I’m going,” Casey struggled to get to his feet.

Sighing she grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly to his feet and shoved him towards the door. As he staggered out her wicked laugh followed him. Making it to his car he breathed deeply of the fresh morning air. Of all the luck, why did it have to be her to see him at his worst? He never drank led alone get drunk. “Never, never again.” he mumbled even as he said it he knew he had liked it. Liked the feeling that all his cares and worries couldn’t touch him and he wanted to experience that feeling again.

Previous/Next

[the-stove-is-divorced]

A NEW DETAIL DIATRIBE????? May your favorite drink be forever in your fridge, I cannot wait to watch that omg!!! MY POOKIE <33333

AND I KNOW??? It’s so insane to me, like, okay, so you guys really could’ve this the entire time and just didn’t. Screaming. Even some of the fights were fun!!! Like hello??? Giddy about Powerplex, I fucking love him so much, LIKE FINALLY!! But seriously the timing? Why is it getting good SIX episodes in for an EIGHT episode season??? If we had 25+, that’s still disappointing but that’s whole other thing, but we got EIGHT! We gotta make these count! And truly? I did adore exploration of the WORLD, like yes thank you for introducing the Order, GDA is slow for disasters, Kate and her brother, but also what the fuck Is Up The Graysons? Who the fuck are they anymore? WHO IS DEBBIE? What happened to the Guilty Graysons? My guilt magnet mark? BRING HIM BACK </3

Also truly, can Oliver speak on his Dad living his MOM, like hello??? How can you talk about the snippets you DO remember but not the vague time your brother spent trying to REBUILD your society you stayed within? How about your mother’s fear that she’d die? How about your brother getting beat the fuck up? The destruction of your world? Or how angry your brother was when he KNEW you existed? Do you even understand, retroactively, what you represent to Mark and Debbie? I understand if they don’t tell him, but one Google search if Nolan nearly killing Mark, before LEAVING, spells out he tweaked out, vanished, and THEN you know he had whole new family after, and that’s YOU. That’s gotta be wild to conceptualize no???? ALSO TRULY THATS TWO GENERATIONS AND NO COMMENT ON THAT HUH??? HOW??? HOOOOWW? What is this selective ass memory? OLIVER CAN YOU EVEN COMMENT ON WHO YOUR MOM WAS OUTSIDE OF LOVING YOUR DAD???????

Seriously give these kids some issues! They’re unknown hybrids!!! There gotta be some fuckery going on. I am once again asking for Mark to stop blinking, consciously yarning, and he never outgrew his baby teeth. Better yet, he’s constantly replacing his teeth, they just?? Keep going?? Adult set? No. Set #36. Every year they all fall out and grow back in for one day, and Mark, for YEARS, still isn’t convinced everyone doesn’t have a “Tooth Day” where you writhe in pain and get to eat whatever you want after for being so brave to brace that. William keeps telling him that isn’t real. Mark keeps telling him to stop gaslighting him. Mark has also never been to the dentist.

Or, I think Debbie made Nolan take Mark and then Mark was very, very popular because student was staring at his screen, utterly confused, and kept grabbing another professional until the room was crowded. Nolan got annoyed and dragged Mark away. Dammit, I wanna write absurd little snippets of hybrid biology fuckery now, too.

Rex/Rae makes be violently itch for arson. Makes my ass itch. WHY. WHYYYYYYYYY. I DON'T CARE SO VIOLENTLY ALSO EXPLORE CHARACTERS OUT OF ROMANCE OH MY GOOOD. I didn’t even realize she kept soothing Paul but like ???? Can she be her own person challenge —> continuous, world breaking fail!!! Truly what DOES she get out of this relationship? When does she get to be her own person and we explore HER outside of a guy?????? WHENNNNNN.

There also has to be record cases for heroes ain’t no fucking way this is the first time this is happened like hello? What does stuff get invented when Mark sneezes but never a single second before? This, again, CANNOT be the first time this has happened. You’re telling me Immortal and Nolan never got pissy and fought each other? No hero got brainwashed or went on a rampage and destroyed whole cities? No hero went villain and did the same thing BEFORE? You’re telling me, in a world with an established bootleg Justice League that’s been running for YEARSSSSSSSSS, there’s no legal protocol for when a hero is being explicitly used for unwanted destruction from another hostile party? Ain’t no hero event been brainwashed before???

Plus, I am a sucker for brainwashed episodes, and they gotta talk the character outta it, it’s like catnip to me. Also a great way to justify Cecil’s fears if it happens to Mark, just saying COUGH. Another fic idea I am sitting on. There are so many rattling around in my head.

BUT SPEAK ON IT??? Why the fuck are we not REALLY unpacking why the fuck Nolan’s first thought after not dying, was being worshipped as a hero and cheating on his wife. You could have just left. You could go back to earth. Yes, it’s complicated they assuming aren’t together anymore, but BRO HAD A WHOLE NEW CHILD??? Not guilty enough to still be loyal, miss my wife MY ASS. Like, you could have just NOT. Can we know why you decided that was best move? Why you put another planet at risk, cheated, and had an affair baby, WHILE mind you, being treated like a HERO. And then, again, REACHES OUT TO HIS KID, not to really apologize or rectify, but to DRAG him into YET ANOTHER MESS he MADE by CHOICE. Can we UNPACK THAT??? Allen istg lock this man down because with he’s track record he’s gonna get somebody pregnant before he apologized. Truly, what the fuck was this man thinking? Why did he just replicate what he had instead of going back to FIX IT? Which I know emotionally constipated but the decisions he DID take are so wild and the show needs to really say how fucking crazy it is. CAUSE WHY?????

I know exactly what kind of fic you’re talking about and there always so interesting to me, because like, why. I get the appeal, I’m sure I’ve read them, but also like…? Odd. Making the woman a bitch would always drive me up the fucking wall though, like you can just write your goddamn ship without spitting on a whole other character??? Damn???? Also yeah, I want to see a character act in a way that makes SENSE FOR THEM TOO. Batman has plenty of flaws to use, he’s secretive, on a “if you need to know you will” basis, he’s blunt if not asshole-ish in delivery, and he’s been hardened and toughened by having his trust broken and Robins die (and revive) on him. Paranoid. He’s also so fucking controlling. There is plenty to work with, if not making him antagonistic, while still using some elements within canon?

Speak on the that’s a YOU thing and not a CANON thing. Like yes we’re all playing with dolls here, but there’s some solid lore at work and it ain’t never said what you’re saying.

Like, I admittedly do have a fic that’s trying to fight against the Character A is Perfect Saint and is Always Right (also drives me up the fucking wall, because no he fucking isn’t, why are some of these fanfic trope speak in such absolutes?), that thereby paints a character in a more negative light but I’m not making him a fucking asshole outta the blue, I’m looking at what text says, what the text can imply, and using THAT. Exaggerated for comedy, also predictably a batman fic because it’s everything to me, but perhaps the guy (Alfred) who became a guardian to a freshly orphaned child, unsure of where the line is as he’s employed as a butler, and had no plans to BE a guardian to ANY kid (and in some issues left his own), may not be the best parent in the world. Not an abusive nightmare, but understandably overwhelmed. Just a thought.

Before the game even realized actually a level of dedication I didn’t know existed. But truly, WHAT ARE YOU WRITING???? Again like you said, if I’m looking through fanfic, it’s because I wanna see THOSE characters. Like have fun, but maybe let’s not bring legos to an opera house, just make ocs! You can stretch a character pretty far if it makes sense!

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[markiafc]

[silvertws]

My idea of Odysseus and the Odyssey in general has been now clouded by the musical.

It's cool to know what's gonna happen, love having to study that in elementary.

Hey, Odysseus, when are you going to tell your family you're actually leaving again to die at sea? :D

[girlivealwaysbean]

.

[eudikot]

Okay, hear me out

[zemnarihah]

hm. my dad is now aware that i have slept over at eriks when i visit him.

[grace4867]

My mom always does shit like this istg

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”