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andrea-lyn · 3 years

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The Recs (Less Travelled)

I’m excited to bring you the first installment of my ‘roads less travelled’ recs! I will be doing another round of this, probably once the Ted Lasso fic tag hits about 25 pages, and then I’ll also grab a couple more fandoms to collect in there!

The Rules:

Each fandom/pairing was sorted on Archive of Our Own by completed works. Anything recced here was not in the first ten pages when sorted by kudos at the time of reccing. There may be some more well-known authors on this list, but the specific fics I’ve picked are ones that didn’t crack that top ten or just didn’t get much traction and I think deserve it, so hopefully I have also balanced it out with other under the radar (and still great!) works. As ever, I have a pinned post of my other recs (none have been duplicated from there), so you can also check those out! Under the cut you’ll find 10 recs in each fandom for:

Raven Cycle

Roswell New Mexico

The Old Guard

Inception

Star Trek (mainly Kirk/McCoy)

The Raven Cycle

savor all the little pieces by littlelionvanz

“Since when do you garden?”

Ronan snorted, “Since I grew up on a fucking farm, genius. Jesus who gave you permission to pursue higher education.”

the old grip of the familiar by littleseal

"There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but it sat in his messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder."

Adam collects things. Ronan is in love with him.

No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin by gansey_is_our_king

Ronan Lynch has wanted to kiss Adam Parrish for a long time.

(alternately titled: four times that Ronan could have kissed Adam)

Cheers to Another Seven Years! by skyermirth

Adam left Henrietta for Harvard and never returned. Now, seven years has passed, and an unexpected work assignment has brought him back to a place and people he hardly recognizes.

Row, row, row your boat by emmerrr

“What. Why are you smiling at me,” he says suspiciously.

Adam shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute, I’m terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly cute,” Adam says.

and now the world is ours to take / and every single move is ours to make by thatlittleblackcat

"Adam was the scientist, Ronan was the data, and Orphan Girl was the key that explained the strange outliers that Ronan presented, his previously unexplainable actions."

Adam sorts out his feelings, Ronan helps him, Gansey is the number one dad friend, Blue is the number one mom friend and Henry tries to make Ronan smile. Otherwise known as the story of how Orphan Girl became Opal.

All These Things You Make Me Feel by SilverOpals394

It was late. Adam could feel the long day catching up to him as he left Boyd’s, all his energy exhausted. When he started his car, the tape deck whirred to life once more. He sighed and raised his hand to turn it off, but before he did a soft melody began to play.

AU in which the mixtape Ronan made for Adam only plays the murder squash song until Adam realizes he's in love with Ronan, too.

Ways to Communicate by Jalules

Blue Sargent reflects on an early memory (and gets busy with her boyfriends.)

(The two things are related, trust me.)

Hold Me Closer, I'm Safe in Your Arms by actuallyronanlynch

“You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Henry Cheng that my boyfriend was at the hospital?” Adam hissed, though his voice wasn’t as acidic as it could’ve been. Ronan took small victories where he could.

“You don’t have a cellphone,” Ronan pointed out flatly. “It’s not like I could’ve gotten a hold of you.”

arts and crafts and the inevitability of death by sunshineinthestorm

Adam comes to the public library in search of a study spot, not a boyfriend.

But it must be his lucky day—because he ends up with a bit of both.

Roswell New Mexico

a conversation between insignificant others by Bellakitse

“Hey…have you noticed that our boyfriends are madly in love with each other?"

“You noticed that too, huh,” she answers dryly, letting out a huff of reluctant amusement.

***

Forrest and Maria share a drink and a conversation and start a friendship.

Own Personal Hell by BeStillMySlashyHeart

Now that Isobel's getting the hang of her telekinesis, Michael decides to test out his telepathic abilities. It backfires. Badly. Now Michael's trapped inside his own mind and only one person can break him out.

Drop the Hammer by brightloveee

Max makes a new friend at the shooting range, who turns out to be even more bad-ass than he expected.

(Takes place mid-S1)

Boys Like You by forgadgetsandgizmos

Curly, dirty blond hair (the mere description ‘curly’ felt like an injustice) twisted in every direction off his head, a sharp contrast with the scruff darkening his strong jawline and scowl-ridden face.

Alex made a mental note to compliment Maria on her excellent taste in men.

—

Or, Alex has coffee with Maria's one-night stand, a man who he definitely does not have a crush on.

let's exchange the experience by lostin_space

Michael decides they need to quarantine.

Michael floods Alex with love and care over and over and over.

This Is Hardcore by Anonymous

Michael makes a proposal. Alex accepts. Michael wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

i don't know what to think (but i think of supernovas) by Milzilla

michael discovers that the console can talk. then, he discovers it can do far more than that.

iridescence on skin by Lire_Casander

In a world where (almost) everyone has a tattoo on their right wrist with one set of coordinates that point to the place where their soulmate is born, Alex thought he wouldn't be any different. He couldn't be more mistaken.

He has two.

The Real Thing by elliebird

Max checks on Michael the morning after Michael saves Max’s ass from Wyatt Long and his dumbass buddies. He sees more than he’s supposed to.

Written for a Tumblr anon who one of their friends walking in on them or anyone of them finding out about Michael and Alex in an interesting way

Sundering by romancandles

“You know it was just an Air Force balloon, right?” says Alex.

Michael smirks. “That’s what they want you to think,” he says, with a wink.

The Old Guard

Peer Reviewed by ishandahalf

[From:] Journal of Medieval Studies ([email protected])

[Subject:] Ad-hoc note from the editor

I have noticed an uncommon level of animosity in your responses to your reviewers (or rather, one reviewer in particular). I am writing to ask if you would please do your best to keep your interactions civil. In fairness, I have also sent a similar request to the reviewer you seem to have this friction with. I trust you will both try and remain more professional in the future.

Again, thank you for submitting your work to this journal.

Sincerely,

James Copley, PhD

Editor-in-Chief

Journal of Medieval Studies

An (accidental) academic epistolary romance as (inadvertently) documented via a (theoretically) rigorously blinded peer review process.[citation needed]

third for a word and the song keeps going Macremae

It was honestly shaping up to be a pretty uneventful year before the Vatican got on Nicky’s bad side.

Or: three times in 2008 that the team genuinely thought about killing Nicky if only to get him to shut up about the changes to the Catholic English Mass and his unrelenting opinions on them, and one time Nile did.

Apex Predators In Island Ecosystems (Freeman et al., in press) by Sixthlight

Palaeobotany PhD student Nile Freeman and her supervisor Joe al-Kaysani are invited to billionaire Stephen Merrick’s new project – a theme park full of cloned dinosaurs. What could possibly go wrong?

This Rough Magic by Marivan

When Joe came to Scotland to study the sea, he did not expect to also encounter a beautiful man claiming that A. he’s a selkie and B. they’re married because Joe picked up his scarf.

It sounds like a fairy tale and that’s a problem. Because Joe’s a scientist. And selkies don’t exist.

Wars for the broken by Yuliares

Five years into his exile, Booker is joined by a companion he never expected to meet. Together, they try to work on healing.

Sometimes they go down to the sewers just so she can scream and scream. “I like to hear it echo,” she explains. “Underwater, you can’t hear anything. Here, at least I can be heard.”

“I don’t feel like a warrior anymore,” she tells him, throwing bread crumbs at pigeons. “I feel broken.”

“You’re still a warrior,” he says roughly. “This is still fighting.”

a good (eighth) impression by deanniker

Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.

Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like - If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this week and thank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscous

Or,

Joe wouldn't usually consider starting anything with his best friend's ex, but as long as they keep it casual, it shouldn't be weird... right?

get back to where you once belonged by tenderjock

Nile takes a sip of her cappuccino and closes her eyes.

(Booker and Nile get that coffee. Life happens, along the way.)

a house; a home by mehm

“Is this a kidnapping?” Joe asks as Nicky checks both their seat belts. “Like, I don’t mind. It’s just not quite what I expected for my birthday.”

In which Joe gets a birthday surprise, because that’s the stuff you have time for when you and the love of your life become mortal at the same time.

the ties that bind by damaskrose

“There’s a story I heard many times,” Andy begins, “in the Mediterranean. Threads of fate and three sisters. One to spin, one to measure, and one to cut.”

Clutter And Croutons by flawedamythyst

Joe and Nicky have an argument, and then Nicky talks to Nile about what it really means to be in a relationship for 900 years.

Inception

My Big Fat Slightly Annoying Wedding by jibrailis

Arthur and Eames elope for ~tax reasons. Certain people in their lives are not happy at the lack of a wedding.

Remember Sydney by pathera

When Eames shambles into the safe house outside of London, he finds a red light blinking on the phone.

For the inception_kink prompt:

Arthur is on a plane which is about to crash. No way anyone is going to survive. Instead of panicking he calmly calls the team's office and gets the answering machine. He hangs up before the plane crashes.

Give me Arthur's last message to the team.

(TW: Character Death / Angst)

Of Such Deceitfulness and Suavity by delires

In which emotions manifest themselves in unusual ways.

YO, K2tog (it's like a code) by lazulisong

“Oh my God,” moans Arthur. “I’ve paid less for Somnacin. Good Somnacin.” A horrible thought strikes him. “How much is the yarn --”

“I want you to have an unguarded reaction,” Eames tells him, and pulls him up from the floor.

(They run an extraction on a knitter.)

hit the ground running by orphan_account

"I travelled halfway around the world for you. I dealt with the French for you."

Valley by wldnst

It's an old story: a knight, a prince, a kingdom in peril.

If This Is Rain Let It Fall On Me and Drown Me by Brangwen

We used to be so brave, Eames thought. Of the two of them, Arthur had always been the more fearless.

a gentle familiarity by jollypuppet

Two weeks later, Eames is on his doorstep with bad Italian takeout and a grin, and Arthur tells him he can sleep on the couch.

Your Crisis Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by sevenimpossiblethings

Arthur doesn't do snow, Ariadne is determined to be as Midwestern as possible, and blizzards make cell phone service unreliable.

Let’s Say I Do (I Do) by xsilverdreamsx

There were, perhaps some things worse that this, Arthur thinks, as he glares at the letter in his hand with his name printed clearly in bold ink, indicating his presence in two weeks for his esteemed marriage to one William H. Eames, III, at St. Catherine's Church in London, England.

Star Trek (predominantly Kirk/McCoy)

Show the World That Something Good Can Work by knune

Leonard McCoy is a doctor, not a personal assistant, and maybe that's why he can't stand working for Jim Kirk.

It's in the little things by winterover

Bones is bemused by a persistent secret admirer.

"Wedding" Away with It by pendrogon

One morning, Bones wakes up and he's single. By the same afternoon, he's married to Jim Kirk for Arbitrary Fic Reasons(TM).

How Long Will You Stay (For Your Whole Life) by withthepilot

Jim Kirk, deputy director of the Enterprise parks and recreation department, sees all of his hard work fall to pieces when budget specialist Leonard McCoy arrives from the state capital to cut Jim's budget and threaten the livelihoods of his colleagues. But thanks to a major parks project, Leonard finds a place in the department, as well as in Jim's life—and when all is said and done, Jim doesn't want him to leave.

All-Time Favorite by mardia

What to do when your best friend suddenly starts making new friends.

Joy Ride by Cards_Slash

While running for their lives from an alien species Kirk had accidentally enraged, they come across a car. And well, if you were to come across a car while being chased by aliens that wanted you dead, and you possessed some lingering knowledge of how to drive a car similar to said car, you would have decided to drive it toward the nearest cliff too.

Also a gunfight.

Syncytia by epistolic

He’d signed up for Starfleet on an impulse, but Starfleet meant James Tiberius Kirk: the first – and second, and third, and fourth – big mistake of Leonard McCoy’s life.

Renovation by canistakahari

Jim has a whammy put on him by an alien death ray and he suddenly craves domesticity. He's crazy with longing to shop at space!Ikea and get potted bamboo and he starts looking into adopting AND HE HATES HIMSELF AND CANNOT CONTROL THE SHIT. Luckily, McCoy is drunk all the time and plays house.

17:08 by butterflycell

She'd watched the news holos with a sick feeling, searching for information that was completely obvious in its absence. Amidst the reports of the the Enterprise's miraculous recovery and the damages sustained, there had been next to nothing about the crew or her captain. Jim had been mentioned only in passing, his name shied away from as his first officer limited interaction to the bare essentials.

The Honey of Hybla by shrift

"Bones, prepare to be my date."

#recs #fic recs #recs project #star trek recs #inception recs #the raven cycle recs #the old guard recs #roswell new mexico recs

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kairoscelrosis · 3 years

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ST: Into Darkness

So I watched into darkness after a really long time, and for the first time after watching ST: WOK. And I liveblogged it.

*spoilers*

Jim's so disappointed that Enterprise got taken away from him. owo

Aahh Carol Marcus is British

Scotty has a moral compass (which I feel TOS Scotty does as well)

When Kirk learns that Spuhura are fighting, and then the lift opens and Spock's about to enter, he looks at both of them. It really gives me the vibes that he knows both his partners are angry at him 😂

Bones McCoy: a dictionary of metaphors

Yaayyy Sulu on the chairrrr

Whaaatttt???? Sulu references Mudd (Harry freaking Mudd) in the movieeee!!!!! (He says: Acting Captain Sulu to Shuttle Bay 2. Please have the trade ship we confiscated during the Mudd incident last month fueled and flight ready) !!!!!

"If you test me, you WILL fail."

The way Bones' expression changesss 😂

"Mr. Sulu, remind me to never piss you off."

"I am not the only one who is upset at you. The Captain is too." "No no no no don't drag me into this."

"She IS right" spirkkkkk

"Captain we will not fit" "We'll fit. WE'LL FITTT."

"I told you we'll fit." "I am not sure that qualifies." 🤣

Why do the Klingons look so different???

Why is Benedict's voice so deep? Like deeper than usual.

SPUHURA 🤢🤢🤢🤢

Tho i hate that a british dude played KHAN, you can't deny Benedict's Khan has charisma

Carol Marcus says "I am a friend of Christine Chapel's" like what??? JJ do you even know that Christine would never be engaged with Kirk in a romantic relationship??? That he's not her type??? 🤢

"Any idea what caused it?" "No sir. But I expect full responsibility." Aww my baby chekov 🥺

"Jim? You're gonna wanna see this." Ooohhhhhh

Okay... so wasn't this Khan a dictator as well? Or like, did the Eugenics war never happen in AOS? Did JJ do this so that Khan would be morally grey? Cuz he loves Benedict? IDK

"I'm sorry." Ohh Kirk my bby 🥺🥺

SCOTTYYYYYY HELL YEAHHH YOU ARE A MIRACLE WORKER *cries in jimmy doohan*

"Captain, I strongly object." "To what? I haven't said anything yet." Bitch you really think he doesn't sense your crazy ideas?

"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'" "An Arabic proverb attributed to a pronce who was betryed and decapitated by his own subjects." 🤣🤣

Grab at the shoulder and "I cannot allow you to do this." and an almost "Jim"

"The Enterprise and her crew need someone in that chair that knows what he's doing... and that's not me." You can hear my heart shattering into a million pieces in the background.

How Jim's about to cry during that dialogue 🥺🥺🥺

Is there like... a competition going on between Pine and Benedict Cumberbatch trying to decide who's eyes are bluer???? Because I can't see anybody winning

"Captain. You can't even guarantee the safety of your own crew." Ooohh I so wanna punch you in the face. 👊

Aaaahhhhh TRIBBLLEEEEEEE

New Vulcaaaannn!!!! Our Spock's coming baaaackkkkkk yaaayyy

Aahh Sulu you are so talented

"This door is very wee. I mean, you know, small" 🤣

"It's gonna be like jumping out of a moving car, off a bridge, into your shot glass." "It's okay. I've done it before" Khan: 👀

"It's not easy. Just give me two seconds, all right, you mad bastard!" 😂😂

Bones, sitting down to watch the most scary movie of his life: Tell me this is gonna work.

Spock, shivering with fear in his seat: I have neither the information nor the confidence to do so, Doctor. 😂😂😂😂

Bones: 👀 👀 Boy, you're a real comfort.

Omg Sulu's so nervous and worried 🥺

I actually kinda DO like the transitions.

"You're big." 😂

"Spock, if I get back, we really need to talk about you bedside manner." Why is everyone so pbsessed with bedside manner in Star Trek😂😂

Scotty 😂😂😂 wheezing and panting, complaining he can't do it but he does 😂😂😂

Shitt the momentum!!! How would they have filmed that??? Rolling and rolling and rolling

LEONARDDD NIMOYYYYYYYYYYYYYY YAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

"Mr. Spock." "Mister Spock." Aaahhhhhhhhhh you both wanna kill meeeee 😂😂😂

He deserved that slap!!! GO CAROLL!!!!

"Where'd ya find this guy?" Ohh Scotty 😂

Spock!Prime really be like, "I can't tell you about it, but I am my own master, so I will. 😂

"Khan Noonien Singh is the most dangerous adversary the Ebeterprise ever faced. He is brilliant, ruthless, and he will not hesitate to kill every single one of you." *cries in Ricardo Montalban*

"Did you defeat him?" "At great cost. Yes." Aaaaahhhhhhh how would you know the great costt spocckkkkk😭😭

The sudden appearance of the man scared the shit outta mee😂😂

"Where's Khan?" AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH JIM SOMETIMES YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO SPOOCCKKKK

Yaayyyy "Damn it, man, I'm a doctor not a torpedo technician!" 😂😂

"This way." Whewww.

Aaahh he's awakeeeee.

Yesss that's my Jim Kirk. No killing. Yes.

Aahhhhhhhhh. Wtf why're you punching Jimmmmm

Aahh Carolll ahahhh

Omg wtfffffffff nooooooooo frickfrickfrickfrickfrickk that was baaaddd

"Oh, you are smart, Mr. Spock." I really do wanna punch you in the face.

I will repeat myself. Having said that a white dude playing Khan is irritating, Benedict really does play him well.

Aahhh the ploy is same like the one in ST: WOK!! This time, it is Spock playing the game!!!

"Vulcans do not lie." Spock lies.

"No ship shoild go down without her captain." *silent screaming*

OMG he's firinggggg

"He armed the damn torpedoes." Is that pride I hear, Kirk

"Not bad, Commander." "Thank you, Lieutenant." XDDDD

Smarty pants Spock XD

WTF is Uhura doing in the Med Bay???

"Good to see you, Jim."

"Spock's cold, but he's not that cold. I've got Khan's crew." Awww :))))

"Seventy two human popsicles, safe and sound in their cryo tubes" POPSICLES😂😂😂😂

"Son of a bitch!"

"I hope you don't get seasick." 😂

"I will remain behind and divert all power to life supprt and evacuation shuttle bays." 🥺🥺

Sulu: Shut up, BITCH.

"I order you to abandon this ship!" The voice his voice cracks 😭 Who says Spock doesn't feel????

"All due respect, Commander, but we're not going anywhere." YEAAHHHH SULUUUUU GOOOO

"One day I've been off this ship! One bloody day!" Same, Scotty, same.

Hah. Running on walls😂

CHEKOV MY HEROOOOOO

Smart baby Chekov exclaiming in Russian.

"The ship's dead sir. She's gone." 😭😭😭

"You're not making the climb" JIM NOOOOO OH GOD YOU SELF SACRIFICING IDIOT.

Jim coming back to belt Scotty into place 🥺

How's he gonna do that????

Aaahh that oit of the clouds shot justttt 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

Sulu's so HAPPYYY uwu

"It's a miracle." "There are no such things." Wait till you get to know Spock.

"Sir, you'd better get down here. Better hurry." *traumatic WOK flashbacks*

"How's OUR ship?" "Out of danger."

"That's a nice move." Is Jim referring to Chess????? You really have the nerve to do that???

"It is what you would have done." "And this, this is what you would have done." *TOS 😭😭😭😭*

"It was only logical."

"I'm scared, Spock. Help me not be."😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"I do not know. Right now I am failing." 😭😭😭

"Because you are my friend."😭😭😭

That Vulcan kisssssss 😭😭😭😭😭

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JIMMMM

KHAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

Why tf is everyone wearing those weird goggles???

I don't like Zoe Saldana as Uhura AT ALL.

The way Zach's bangs are flying😂

BONEESSSSSS 😭😭😭

Yeaah yeah yeah yeah yeah that tribbleeee

How tf did spock jump that high???

Why doesn't he like nerve pinch him???

Why can't they use the blood of the man in the cryo???? They have the same blood right???

"You get that son of a bitch back on board right now!"

Ohnonononono he's tryna crush Spock's skull.

Shit Spock why so angry NOOOOOO

Yeah Spock stops when he hears the name 'Kirk'.

"You were barely dead." 😂

"Tell me, are you feeling homicidal? Pwer mad? Despotic?"

"Uhura and I had something to do with it too, you know." Ohh bones😆😆

Spock called Kirk JIMMMMMMMMMMM

But, like, why didn't they kill Khan off??? He can be awakened again, can't he??? Like????

I love their formal uniforms!!!

Yaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy my introooooo 🥺🥺🥺🥺

"C'mon Bones, it's gonna be fun."

"Five years in space. God help me." 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The fond look Spock has on his faceeeee

And on Jim's face toooooo

"I defer to your good judgement, Captain." 🥺🥺🥺

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Radio Silence

Summary: You take Tim with you to a family reunion hoping to monopolize his time. You may have forgotten to tell him a few things. For example, the haunted radio.

masterlist

a/n: I’m sorry for the wait. I forgot that I am no longer used to describing atmosphere. This isn’t my best work but I hope you like it. This was based on my family’s tradition of sitting in the dark on Halloween listening to scary stories on the radio. This is mainly Tim Drake x Filipino!Reader because I realley wanted to try my hand at a bilingual character. You will see misspelling of words in the dialogue. That’s intentional on my part. There will be translations.

“Yes, Nay, he’s the one in the picture,”

“No! It’s the guy with-” You blow out an exasperated breath. You hear Tim snicker behind you and you dedicate half your brain cells to coming up with the best way to kick his ass. “Yung mukhang Koreano. Yeah. Yeah. Dat one.”

“Yes, he looks more like a white boy. Mistiso.” You explain curtly.

“Yes, he’s smart. I hab standards,” Tim raises a disbelieving brow at you. You stick your tongue out at him but nearly bite it off when your grandmother speaks again.

“What do you mean doubtful?!” Tim looks absolutely delighted. A cheshire smile curling on his lips as he leans back into your couch. You glare at him then at your phone then at the ceiling then past that to glare at whatever god was up there.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME! Justine was an-” You mutter trying to remember the word. “- an anomaly and you know it!”

“…..”

“Ok der were 2 anomalies!”

“3”

“Ok maybe Tim is the anomaly, but seriously, Nay, he’s fine,” You snarl, the jaggedness of your Gotham accent rearing its head. You wince but do not apologize. This will bite you in the ass later but you didn’t say it. You don’t like the taste of the word.

“No. I mean if you don’t want us to embarrass you at the church social then- Yes, I have been going to church,” You can see Tim rolling his eyes and mouthing liar with a twitch of his lip in the corner of your vision. “No, he’s not the showy type. Nay, I gotta go. The food’s burning,”

“Yes, Nay, I lab you bery mach,” You sigh into the phone letting your grandmother’s lather your tongue cutting into the briskness of your consonants. It held the same euphoria as taking off your shoes after a particularly long day.

“Unless you’re Dick, you can’t burn cereal,” Tim cut in carting you away from your reverie.

“Watch me, Drake,” You huff throwing a pillow at Tim almost making him drop his cereal bowl.

“So, can Gotham survive without Red Robin for a weekend?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked me this before telling your grandma that you’re taking me?”

“I’m just double-checking,”

“How considerate,”

“To be fair, your schedule is already volatile as is," You huff snuggling up to him on the couch. It was too cold in Tim’s apartment. You think a rich kid like him could afford to turn up the heat. Though, you aren’t exactly going to complain about an excuse to cuddle him.

Tim doesn’t make a move to push you away. Instead, he wraps his arm around you pulling you closer. This was the type of easy affection you two had become accustomed to. This was also the thing that will make your Schrade even more convincing. "True, but I asked Cass and the others to cover for me. Plus, your grandma sounds like she likes me,”

“Considering you don’t have a criminal record and aren’t currently being investigated, you immediately rocketed to the top of her list,” You answer absentmindedly stirring your cereal and taking a bite.

Tim whips his head to you and gives you a concerned look which you return with a smile full of cereal. He blanches at you, shaking his head and grabbing the remote to unpause the Star Trek episode you two were watching. You both prop your feet up and chew your cereal slowly, not feeling any reason to hurry.

How long has it been since you started? You’re pretty sure it was 1 AM when you started.

As if reading your mind, Tim looks at his phone, winces then turns back to the screen without another word. You quirk your brow at him but decide that there is some truth to the saying ignorance is bliss.

You were gonna hate yourselves come noon.

It’s noon, the sun has the audacity to show itself, and you hate yourself.

You definitely, unequivocally hate yourself.

You groan in the passenger seat, head pressed against the cool window. The faint warmth of the sun glancing off your skin makes the tinges of nausea circling the periphery of your senses come to life. Your stomach does a cartwheel and you think- you’re sure you’re going to throw up but you aren’t gonna do that.

No way in hell are you gonna do that. Not when you’ve finally conned your way into monopolizing Tim’s attention for the weekend.

Ok, yeah, sure it was the result of some miscommunication between you and your cousin who then passed on the miscommunication to the whole goddamn family but that’s just what you call a happy accident.

You blow out a breath, greedily taking in all the coolness of the glass pressed against your skin calling your mind back to your body. You weren’t really good with handling the not sleeping thing.

“You ok?” Tim asked his eyes flickering between you and the alarmingly empty road. There was worry in his eyes whether it was the fact that you looked like shit or the fact that the road you were on looked like the opening to a terrible 80s slasher flick. It was Halloween after all. It would be pretty perfect. Dread licks at your stomach at the thought.

You let the silence lapse. In the corner of your eye, you see Tim’s hand tighten on the steering wheel. You stare at the expanse of farmland stretching to the horizon debating whether to humor his question or to let him stew.

“I’m fine,” You picked the third option.

“You don’t look fine,” Tim deadpans, turning to you.

“Stop looking then-” Tim scowls at you his pouty lips pulling into an angle. You sneer. “-You don’t look too good yourself, Kirk,”

Tim makes an offended noise. You look at Tim, really look at him, for the first time in hours. Tim, as per usual, looked obnoxiously handsome even though he was running on at most 30 minutes of sleep and had eye bags running down his face. Somewhere lost in his contemplative expression was the blindingly obvious hint of self doubt. You’ve seen it tons of times.

You peel yourself away from the cool glass to look Tim in the eyes. Dread swims in the pools of teal looking straight back at you. Tim’s mouth edges between a pout and a frown. You soften, shifting in your seat angling until your body is facing his.

“Whatever it is you’re overthinking it,”

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking!”

“Ay,” You chuckle and shake your head. “Tim, it’s you. You overthink everything. I don’t need to be a mind reader to see that,”

Tim huffs. Maybe he was overthinking things.

“ ‘sides, I don’t see why you would be nervous 'bout meeting my family,”

Has it occurred to you I want to date you for real at some point? Tim thought a little frustrated.

You laugh when he frowns but instead of teasing him any further. You flick the radio on. Your hackles rise as it crackles to life. A smile flickers on your face when ‘All-star’ comes on. You cry out, a noise of shrill joy filling the air.

“Oh my god” Tim breathes, running his long fingers through his dark hair. “You absolute dork,”

“Kettle. Pot.” You grin.

Tim snorts as you loudly sing along with the radio. Unfortunately for him, your enthusiasm for the song was infectious. Somehow you both managed to miss every beat of the song.

You somehow felt like you were definitely forgetting something.

6 cans of monster and 5 things of 5-hour-energy drink later, you arrived. Tim’s nice-looking car pulls into the dusty gravel driveway of a rather large and old colonial looking house. Seeing the robust form of the large house looming in the distance injected your veins with a stifling source of dread.

You love your family to bits but sometimes their presence weighed so much. You can feel their words already pecking at you, drawing pit and pieces of your self into frayed fibers. All you can think about were the comments hushed behind palms and the dissecting gaze of dark eyes. Your mouth feels dry and you can already feel your feet pivoting back towards the car.

Tim reaches for your hand, lacing his slender fingers between yours. He smiles at you squeezing your hand. You can feel him rattling from his own anxiety but his effort steadies you. You grin at him and squeeze back.

Your teeth click the entire walk up to the large oak doors. Tim squeezes your hand again, his teal eyes sweeping over you with a concerned glint. You furrow your brow and somehow he understands and raises his hand to knock on the door.

The door bursts open. Music and laughter wash over you as hands hurry you into the front hall.

“Nay! Dito na sya! May dalang gwapo!” (Mom, y/n’s here and they brought someone handsome.)

About 20 heads turn to look at you. Tim feels some embarrassment from the attention but that doesn’t last too long as in the space of about 5 seconds, those 20 heads were swarming you both, pulling you into hugs, shaking your hands, and ruffling your hair in varying degrees of force and order.

“Beh, you’ve grown so big” Your aunt coos squishing your face.

“Nena, look at this guy,”

“Tita, he doesn’t have any tattoos,” Your little cousin marveled looking bug-eyed as she lifted Tim’s shirt. You swat her away but take a quick second to subtly admire Tim’s sculpted abs. Your aunt scolds him and your uncle drags you to the main room where more guests were sitting chattering or screaming at a foreign horror movie.

All the apprehension bundled into your stiff shoulders dissolves like seafoam against the overwhelming warmth of the festivities. The raucous laughter drags the roughness of Gotham away from your tongue. In place of your slow, careful syllables are quick clattering consonants and concise vowels. Your vowels were still elongated and angled to a sharp point unlike the nearly musical words of your cousins but as you said before ‘Gotham has its way of burying itself in your bones’. Tim just never thought about how saliently it showed itself in words. He wonders how his accent (folded, neat, and sterilized) sounds to you. He wonders how dull he sounds to you.

You have teased him about it. You’ve teased him endlessly about the way upper-class Manhattan just rolls off his tongue, how Alfred’s British affectations worm their way into his syllables. What you don’t tell him is how the smooth velvet of his words lull you into a hypnotic state that steals every bit of oxygen from your lungs. What you can’t make yourself tell him is that you would gladly spend your whole life listening to him read a fucking phone book.

The festivities were lively and informal. Jokes flying every which way. All alternating between your native tongue. You laugh into your drink, hiding the hesitant curve blunting your infectious smile. Tim nudges you to ask what’s wrong but you simply nudge him back and shake your head as if he had said something funny. Your relatives didn’t seem to notice your demeanor or if they did they left it alone.

Tim decides to leave it alone for now. Instead, he leaned into the flow of conversation. His years of speaking at galas working their magic on your aunts. They bombarded him with questions. Most of which sounded like screening questions at the embassy. You snarled at them more than once to knock it off but Tim shook it off. He knows they’re just worried about you the same way he worried for you. Well, not the same way but it was their way of showing they cared. He lets himself be immersed in the conversation. It’s more like he tuned into the sweet sound of your laughter but made sure to dedicate enough restraint to not look like a love-sick puppy.

“Tanga!” (MORON!)

“Baliw!” (Crazy!)

“E gago ka pala, di ba halata yun?” (No shit sherlock, isn’t it obvious?)

Tim is at best confused as he watches the volley of words between you and your cousin. Your voices rising above the blaring karaoke. Anthony (?) clamps a hand on his shoulder and laughs as he watches you and Martin (?) hurl insults at each other. In the corner of your eye, you watch his reactions checking if he understood a word. He isn’t fluent but he understood bits and pieces. He’s heard you mutter angrily about customers enough times to distinguish an insult.

“Dun worry about 'em. They won’t fight. They’re stupid but they’re not that stupid. ‘Sides, they’re too afraid of Nay for that,”

Tim gives Anthony a doubtful look. Anthony chuckles at him, clapping him on the back urging him to keep watching. He does if only to make sure you’ll be alright. When he does, he tunes into your words. Tim marvels at how musical you sound as you trade another round of rapid-fire jabs with Martin, how at ease you seem. Tim makes a mental note to get you to teach him. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would justify it. Admittedly, part of it was just wanting to spend more time with you.

He can probably swing it.

A surge of protectiveness crowds his veins when Martin grabs at you but his hand is swatted by a cane. The air crackles with a sharp snap. The room plunges into silence. A small woman with silver hair stands tall and imperious at the other end of the cane. You and your cousins stiffen.

“Hi Nay,” You trail off with a distinct lack of grace. You swallow the lump forming your throat, robbed of any coherent thought by the stinging look in her eyes. You felt bare under her gaze. Layers and layers of skin peeling beneath the weight of her attention. Fury flickers like firelight across her dark eyes. Your skin suddenly felt like lint and you were sure you would catch fire.

A pause.

A bated breath held for what felt like an eternity.

“Iha(Iho), It’s been so long,” She says, softening. Her wrinkled face stretches into a kind smile that made you think of freshly cooked vegetables. Her cane folding to her side as she loops her arm over your shoulders. “It’s nays to see you,”

A choked sound comes out of you and you feel something shake loose. “Missed you too, Nay,” You breathed. Tim feels awkward, fidgeting in his place.

The soft smile on your grandmother fades a little. Her sharp eyes appraising Tim. The look wasn’t particularly venomous, but it left Tim feeling like he’d been cut open and analyzed. He wasn’t entirely sure of why you were all so scared of her before but now he fully understood.

She relinquishes her grip on you and urges you to go back to Tim. You frown a little, giving her a suspicious look which she returns innocently. You let out a little breath before walking back to Tim’s side. She gives him another long once over before silently strolling away. His stomach churned but eased at your touch. You still look uneasy but you don’t fuss over it. Not when Martin decides that he wasn’t quite done with bickering.

The festivities went on as normal. Maybe with a little less cussing going around. But Tim barely noticed when your laugh, free of any hesitance, echoed sonorously in his ear as he held you close.

Roz presses a drink into his hand. “Congrats, you’ve survived round one of Nay’s hazing,”

“Round one?” Tim hiccups into his drink. He coughed. The beer was strong. A strangely potent amount of alcohol that made his throat burn.

“Yeah, Roz, that was more like round 2.” You mutter sullenly, distinctly taking no sips of the drink Roz had also handed you. The paranoid Bat-part of his brain screams that he’s been poisoned. He’s struggling not to let it win over but your conversation wasn’t helping.

“Nay will eat him alive,”

“I mean. She’ll do it nicely,”

“Pfffft, right! Ok, Tony, name one time she’s been nice.”

“How about-”

“The thing with Y/n earlier doesn’t count,”

“Why not?”

“There was a hidden agenda,”

“Oh shit! The bitch is right- Ow! You are!”

You look at Tim apologetically and squeeze his hand. Somehow this does not calm his nerves, but he tries his best to ease into his touch.

On the trip here, you warned him that it was going to be exhausting. He assumed, incorrectly, that you were exaggerating. After all, he’s survived snobby rich people and his family. Your family seemed nice. He can survive a nice family dinner.

But what you neglected to tell him was that it would be sheer chaos. He definitely wasn’t prepared for the sensory overload. The house was almost unbearably loud compared to the manor. Every corner was filled with people chattering, playing games, eating, and doing anything to entertain themselves. Sure, Tim was used to chaos but he was more accustomed to short bursts. He wasn’t quite as prepared for the seemingly endless stream of conversations and liquor.

You had definitely not prepared his poor unassuming introverted ass well enough. Not even halfway through the night, Tim was ready to crash. The 20 minutes of sleep he got beforehand had not helped.

You, the angel that you are, guide him away from the party. You drag yourselves down the wide yawning corridor to the grand staircase.

Lit only by the thin veil of moonlight, the house showed its age. Walking up the stairs and walking through its hallways was like falling through time. The halls were lined with paintings, all landscapes and still-lifes. He’s thankful for that small mercy. His head swimming in liquor, he is reminded of the portraits at Wayne Manor and how their eyes burned at you as you passed.

The lack of portraits doesn’t make the house any less creepy mind you. Religious fixtures line the halls, crucifixes affixed to every arch-like mistletoes. There were doll-like statues of hollow-eyed saints at every corner table. It might have been the dancing moonlight but Tim swore he saw one of them move. Tim suddenly wishes he hadn’t ingested so much liquor.

Before long, you make your way to a bedroom. How the hell you knew which one to put him in was anyone’s guess. You lead him into the room. Touch gentle and careful as you coaxed him in. Soft jazzy music echoing hauntingly. The dancing moonlight and the solid shadows of the room highlighting your gorgeous features, drawing his attention to your plush lips. You lean over him to make sure he was indeed still part of the living. Liquid courage surging in his face, he presses his lips to yours. It’s cautious. He gently runs his hand through your hair, pulling you towards him with a push. The press of his lips is restrained, more of a question than a demand. Slightly chapped lips press against your sweet and searching.

Tim remembers the warm press of your lips, the way the pads of fingers trail against the soft fabric of his shirt, your warm breath fanning against his cool skin, then nothing.

Knock

KNOCK

Tim grouses into his pillow. Tim was having an absolutely wonderful dream. He could still feel your warm lips against his. Tim squeezes his eyes trying to go back to sleep.

Knock

KNOCK

‘1 AM’ the antique analog clock at the nightstand reads.

“I’m up!” He lies burying himself further into the thick sheets.

His brothers really needed to stop breaking into his apartment at 1-

KNOCK

Tim nearly falls out of bed when he remembers where he is. He jams a shirt over his head and some sweatpants before stumbling to the door.

“Hey Tim, you coming?” Anthony asks through the crack of the door.

Tim opens the door a little wider. “Where?”

“Outside,” Roz shrugs vaguely.

“Whe-”

You step out of your room, extremely hesitant. Your knuckles were turning white from apprehension. You look at Tim, surprise plain in your eyes. You flinch heat rising to your cheeks. Tim remembers the texture of your soft lips. He wishes that wasn’t a dream. You glare at your cousins who give you a confused look.

“Roz, he-”

“Awwww, ‘insan, you’re actually coming?” Martin mocks clapping you on the shoulder drawing, what Tim considers, an adorable squeak from you. His heart almost leaps from his chest when your warm body presses further into Tim’s side. You can’t hear it but Tim’s breath stutters in his chest. He loops his arm around you protectively. Martin gives both of you a sly conspiratorial look.

You scowl at Martin. Glaring with as much intensity and intimidation your burning cheeks would allow. Roz swats him over the head making him almost topple down the steps before Anthony even gets a chance to rebuke him. Instead, Anthony turns to you, brows furrowed. “You sure you want to come? Nay said-”

“La a!” Martin protested. Roz rolls her eyes and swats him again. “Dipshit’s right. Nay didn’t say jack,”

“Then why did you swat me?”

“E, I felt like it e,”

“Bish, whose side are you on?!” He snarls but before he can lunge at Roz, Anthony is already dragging him by the scruff of his neck.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh! Not so loud. The kids will hear us,”

“I for one will not help you wrangle tita’s crotch gremlins,”

“We’re going to be late and Nay is going to unleash hell upon us,”

Anxiously, you tug at Tim urging him to follow your cousins as they filed out through the back door.

“Where are we going?” Tim hisses.

All four of you share a look.

“We’ll explain,” You promise.

The journey was eerie. Punctuated by the fact that none of you explain jack. The walk was entirely silent, devoid of bickering or any sort of conversation. He can see the silence driving both Roz and Anthony mad. You honestly look like you’re going to keel over. The odd thing was that even the birds were silent. Not a single sound penetrated the thick canopy of juniper trees.

You wonder the woods guided only by the thin ribbons of silver light peaking through the thick clouds of leaves. Tim can feel your pulse as it thundered in your chest. No matter what was going on he would keep you safe.

You arrive in front of a rusted gate half a foot shorter than Tim. It was small, easily climbable with plenty of spiraling pieces to stick your foot into for purchase if needed. Your eyes cut to Roz who fished out a key he’d seen perched on one of the coat racks. Hesitantly, you held your hand out for the key. Roz, on the other hand, all but slammed it into your hand, grinning in a mix of absolute glee and relief. Your teeth click as you worked the lock. He wants to suggest just going over it but you seem quite adamant and he wasn’t about to push your nerves.

Finally, the lock gives in.

You all file in one at a time in a sort of practiced motion. Beyond the gates was a path with its stones polished from a shine from use. The scarce light coming from the canopy of trees rippling against them. It lit the rest of the way still keeping the surroundings in deep shadow.

The path ended in front of a small dilapidated stone structure that seemed too small to house anything.

“Age before beauty,” Martin jeers, bending down dramatically urging Roz to go in. She, in turn, shoves him in with a swift kick. The dark interior of the structure swallows him whole. Her dark eyes cut to you. You swallow but ultimately you shrug off Tim’s hold and relinquish your death grip on Tim’s arm. You let out a shaky breath as you step over the threshold. Just like Martin before you, the shadows leave no trace of you.

Tim reaches for the last bit of your swaying blanket. Roz taking the chance shoves Tim over the threshold, his vision goes pitch black.

“See you there, lover boy~”

The darkness is all-encompassing making his eyes completely useless as much as he tries to adjust them. Instead, he strains all of his other senses. He feels the press of moss-covered walls closing in on him. The staircase only seemed wide enough to let one person pass at a time. The stairs wind in shallow predictable patterns. The scent of moss and burning firewood grew heavy as he made his descent. Distantly, he could hear the soft padding of your shoes against the stone but he also heard the crackle of jazzy music. It was the kind he only heard from the old black and white movies Bruce and Alfred watched. It was oddly familiar but he couldn’t place it. The smooth baritone of the singer rattles in his head. A shiver of mild discomfort travels up his spine.

After what feels like an eternity, Tim emerges. His eyes slamming shut from the sudden brightness of his surroundings. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the light. His eyes take in his surroundings.

He was in a clearing. It was man-made, constructed using the same stones that lined the path you’d taken. The stone walls were covered in moss and ivy, but the stone that did peak out reflected the moonlight freely raining drown from the clear autumn sky. In the center of the space, sit 9 people including yourself. All cast in the warm glow of the crackling bonfire. It is a living thing, raging and casting shadows sharpening and obscuring features.

“I’m so glad you could join us, Timothy,” Your grandmother calls out as she fiddles with the nobs of the old radio perched in her lap. It crackles uncooperatively despite her efforts. He can’t pry his eyes away from it even as he takes his seat next to your shivering form.

Without much thought, Tim pulls you close. You tremble, teeth still clicking eyes wild and fixed on the radio. The radio is a curious thing. It’s an old model. It’s sleek but dotted with various nobs and switches. If he had to guess, it was something out of the 1960s. In the periphery of his senses, he hears Roz and Anthony step out of the staircase and take their places in the circle with Roz sitting right next to your grandmother.

Your grandmother stops fiddling with the radio then turns to Roz who is now comfortably seated. Your teeth chatter and your shoulder hitch as they silently converse. Roz inhales then exhales. Her dark eyes sweep over all of you making sure she had your attention. Based on the silence and the still forms, she did. She sits a little straighter, her shoulders rolling back.

She throws herself into a tale. It was a story she’d heard long ago about a man, a house, and a secret. Her calm voice carries over the soft roaring of the bonfire. It wasn’t the scariest tale Tim had heard but Roz told it well. Well enough to draw squeaks from several people including yourself.

Tim relaxes catching on to the turn of events. He lets you press into his side as you make your feeble attempt to get away from the story. Tim chuckles at the amount of theatrics you’ve all put into building up to this little gathering. However, all his smug skepticism vanishes when Roz finishes her story.

The static from the radio vanishes. Its various nobs move without assistance and its switches click into place. The same baritone voice carries from the radio. Tim doesn’t hear what it says as his mind reels. He turns to you and opens his mouth to ask but Anthony begins his tale before Tim can even formulate his question. Beside him, you fidget with his sleeve shaking hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric.

Tim remembers how much you hate ghost stories. You’d once gotten sick with a fever just from watching horror movies. At this point, you were on the verge of tears. Your breathing slowed abnormally as Martin finished his story. The radio predictably did not whirr to life after his story. Through your chattering teeth, you give your cousin a vicious smile which he volleys by sticking his tongue out petulantly.

It’s your turn.

You squeeze Tim’s hand twice before worming out of his grasp. You flutter your long lashes, lightcatching in them looking golden as the fire flickered urging you to delve into your story. You roll your shoulders and let your blanket and apprehension slide away in one smooth action.

You tell your story.

Your countenance still and grave as you tell a story of crossroads and terrible choices.

The radio huffs, seemingly amused by your effort.

“Well, y/n,” The radio coos. Your name drips like molasses from its speakers. It’s unsettling how crisp it sounds. Its voice absent of static as it addresses you. “You sure do know about bad choices. I believe so does that young thing- Pardon me. Young things swimming in the harbor. They’re just a tinsy bit cut up about it.” The radio teases almost sounding gleeful. You nod gravely, stomach reaching the floor.

Harbor?

You settle back down into your seat. Tim nudges you, cocking his head to the side to question you. Your fist clenches and unclenches in your lap before you look him in the eyes again.

“Case,” You mouth silently.

It clicks.

The harbor.

The bodies.

That’s what the radio meant.

Someone clears their throat urging Tim to tell a story. He stumbles through a half-remembered urban legend he heard from Steph awhile ago. His mind far too preoccupied with the new information to really devote to any theatrics.

His turn passes.

And the stories continue as he mulls over the information.

It’s your grandmother’s turn. Your hand grips Tim’s arms white-knuckled. You attempt to swallow down the fear but it catches in your throat constricting your airway. The flames dance casting her face in sinister shadows that bring out all the sharp angles in her features. Her smile curls cruel. Her bony fingers trace the seems and delicate patterns embossed on the old radio. Static erupts loud then dies down just as quickly. Her smokey voice fills the air. Heavy and commanding. The story spills from her lips smooth and velvety slick with gore and unspoken horrors. None of you dare to speak. Some don’t even breathe. Your hands scrabble for purchase on Tim’s shirt as you bury your face in his chest. You feel him wrap himself around you shielding you the best he can. Ear pressed to his chest, you can hear Tim’s pulse hammering. The terror soaking through to his bones. He remains steady. Unflinching even as the story reaches its climax.

The flames flash, fade, then flicker.

The radio crackles.

The smooth baritone of its voice distorting into something undeniably inhuman.

Shadows dance.

Their hands reaching out as the flames did. A hard yank from one of them nearly topples you out of Tim’s arms. He shifts you both away from their grasp. He glares fiercely at them making sure you’re safe.

Sorrowful moans fill the air but your grandmother is undeterred.

With a shrill cry from the radio, everything dies down.

The shadows retreat.

The fire simmers down now small and tame.

Everyone lets out a breath. Both of you could feel everyone unfurl. Tense muscles, locked jaws, tight chests all loosen with the end of the story.

For a long moment, the entire circle is still. Then your grandmother stands up. The rest follow her in a mostly quiet procession up the steps.

“Roddy was harsh this year,” Martin whines.

“Nope, you’re just terrible at it. I mean hell even y/n got an answer. It was creepy as all shit but they got an answer,”

“Uh- Is it a good time to ask what just happened?”

Your cousins turn to you.

“You really didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“How do you propose I bring up the demonic radio?”

“Pffft,”

“Pirst, it isn’t demonic. Do you really think Nay would have kept it if it was?”

“She lets Martin hang around,”

“…….”

“Dis is a good point,”

“HEY”

Tim clears his throat.

“Raaayt, Ok so… once a year we tell the spooky radio stories so we can get answers or our future told,”

“Was the whole creepy walk necessary?”

“Nope,” You answer in chorus.

“It’s just our way of psyching up for it,”

“It’s your guy’s way. Tita at least let’s me hum songs,”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to listen to you sing,”

“Is there anything else you guys want to tell me?”

“Aside from y/n really not wanting to tell-”

You snarl at your cousins, red-faced and bearing your teeth. Martin and Roz cackle as they run. Anthony has the decency to at least look slightly apologetic as he runs.

“Y/n… What aren’t you telling me?”

“Tim, I- I’m- Damn it- I-” You put your hands on your face. You try to calm your breaths. “Look Tim, I-”You take another breath. “I’m sorry. I kissed you but you were drunk-”

“Wait that wasn’t a dream?” There’s a flicker in Tim’s chest.

You look at him mortified. You want the ground to swallow you whole. “Yeah, I- Tim, I know it’s- I’m sorry.”

He remains silent.

Your stomach feels like it’s going to burn up.

“I-”

“I want a redo,”

“A what?”

“A redo,”

a/n: I will rework the ending at some point but thank you for reading!

taglist: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

#Tim Drake #tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #my writing #batboys #batboys x reader #spooktober #fake dating au

93 notes · View notes

tirednerd2012 · 3 years

Note

After he knocked Ian out, did Kirk call Barley to rub the betrayal in his face?

Yeah, yeah he did. Guys even I hate Kirk.

To say Barley was panicked was an understatement. The word fear didn't quite describe the pure terror that left him shaking behind his wheel. He had to force himself to keep his hands steady to prevent a wreck as he went as fast as he could on the highway.

He woke up to Ian missing, his mom screaming out because there was an obvious sign of struggle, and his friend, Kirk, gone. He tracked Ian's phone to somewhere eight hours away and didn't waste any time driving.

Ian's room was right above his. How did he not hear anything going wrong? What if Ian tried to call out for him? Barley knew he could be a heavy sleeper, but he didn't think it would be enough to cause something like this to happen.

He trusted Kirk. He had befriended the guy months ago. He was charming, nice, smart and overall, it seemed like a good friend to have. But now because of his ignorance, his little brother was gone.

His mind flashed to finding him in that cage with Drew when his ex kidnapped him. How Ian defended Barley, even though his older brother caused this whole mess to begin with. He remembered Ian's fear when Drew went in for the kill and causing a spell so powerful, it knocked him unconscious and blew up almost the entire cabin. How Barley didn't have a scratch on him from that event was still a mystery. Maybe Ian was subconsciously protecting him?

Then his mind went back to when he killed Drew. He slit his throat. Never told anyone about it, just insisted to his mom and Colt that Drew would no longer be able to hurt Ian.

He still couldn't look himself in the mirror. He knew he was a failure. He failed to protect his family. He failed in relationships. And now, he was a killer. He killed someone. Barley Lightfoot.

But if he didn't, Drew would have continued to go after Ian. Would he have to do it again? What did Kirk even want with Ian?

His phone rang on his dashboard and he saw Kirk's contact. He picked up immediately.

"Where the hell is my brother?" he demanded.

"Rush Motel, room 318. He's knocked out now, may be for a few hours. He inhaled way too much chloroform and he's... well, he's been in better shape," Kirk said, without losing any cool in his voice. He still sounded fine, like he wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you don't understand how powerful Ian is, and what could be done if he reaches his full potential. Barley, if you had grown a pair and realized this, you could make him take over the world."

"I know how powerful he is, you piece of shit. That power isn't yours and I'll be damned if you force him to do anything."

"By the time I'm done with you guys, you won't be able to save him."

"What are you planning?" Barley asked, through his clenched jaw. His hands shook harder and a car held on to his horn as he passed by Barley.

"I'm going to break both of you. I need to get rid of your hope if I want to break Ian," Kirk said. "This kid is convinced you'd do anything for him, but we both know better, don't we?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You bring him in more danger than anything. You brought Drew into his life and now, you've allowed me. You're the one that comes up with the dangerous quests that could very well kill him. And you're the one without powers. How can you save him from threats?"

"I'll find a way."

"Really? Because this whole thing could have been prevented if you just didn't trust me. I wouldn't have been in your house last night. I wouldn't have been able to go up in your little brother's room and take him. You didn't even hear me!" Kirk laughed.

Barley had to pull over for a second and force himself to stop trembling.

"I took him hours away before any of you realized. I reopened every scar Drew gave him and even added some of my own," Kirk said. "All because you decided to trust me. I mean, Barley, for the love of the gods, I could kill him right now and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do to stop it. You can't get here in time. I'd be long gone and he'd be long dead."

"I shouldn't have trusted you. But I promise, whatever you do to him is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you."

"Big talk for someone who isn't here," Kirk responded. "How does it feel, by the way? To have your little brother, the one you always try to look out for, be away from you and you know he's in danger? You know it's your fault. And this idiot thinks the world of you. He'd defend you to anyone. He had to save you from Drew."

"How do you know about the Drew thing? I never told you that."

"I was friends with him, Barley. That's how I learned about Ian to begin with. It all ties back to you," Kirk responded. "I just can't imagine how scared you must feel right now."

"You don't know me."

"Actually, I do. I know all about you and your family. I know everything I need to know about how to break Ian like a twig and make him do whatever I want. I know his physical and mental weaknesses. I know his shortcomings. I know where he lives, where he goes to school, where he goes when he's stressed. I've planned this for months, Barley. I'm too ahead for you to beat me."

"You clearly don't know what lengths I'm willing to go to."

"But I do. I know you killed Drew. No hard feelings, by the way. Honestly our friendship was never the best. Dude's kind of an asshole, but I'm sure you know that," Kirk said. "I also know that if I want to break you, I just have to take away Ian. But we have plenty of time. There's no rush and I'm not impatient like Drew."

"Don't do this."

"Too late," Kirk replied. "Well, I guess I better hit the road. I'd hurry. This place is sketchy as hell and I'm leaving the door unlocked for you. Wouldn't want anything else to happen to Ian, would we?"

"You're going to pay for this."

"Keep telling yourself that. I'll break it out of you eventually," Kirk said and then hung up the phone.

Barley put the address to the motel in and went as fast as his van would allow. His blood was boiling and he screamed. He didn't care if anyone in another car looked. He just wanted his brother.

He was so sick of putting him in danger. He just wanted Ian safe and sound. His little brother was the last person he could ever handle losing. And if something happened, it would be because of Barley.

He got to the motel hours later. His mind and heart filled him with self-hatred and regret as he ran into the room and then he felt like he could throw up.

Ian was laying on the bed, covered in cuts and bruises. Marks around his neck and several along his body. Barley immediately ran over and knew he would have to redo the poor bandaging. Kirk only did what he had to in order to keep Ian alive. He wanted nothing else.

His little brother looked broken. Like a puppet with the strings cut, sprawled out on the cheap mattress. He ran a hand through Ian's hair, but received no response or sign that Ian felt it.

Barley wiped the tears away as he lifted his younger brother in his arms. Ian immediately rested on his chest and curled closer, but didn't wake up right away.

He walked out of the motel, careful to not hurt Ian further.

"Barley?"

"It's okay, Ian. Save your energy. You're safe now."

"Kirk."

"Is gone."

"He'll be back."

"And we'll be ready," Barley promised as he got his brother in the van. He went over to the driver's side and looked over at Ian. He winced at his brother's scars reopened and other injuries. Meanwhile, Ian could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Barley," he said, as if he knew the amount of guilt and self-hatred the oldest Lightfoot was feeling at that moment.

You caused this, a voice in his head reminded him, though he didn't even forget that fact in the first place.

"Get some sleep, Ian," Barley said, softly. Ian must have gone through worse than Barley could physically see, because he didn't argue. Instead, he curled up against the passenger seat and immediately slept. Barley took off his jacket and put it around his brother.

I'm so sorry, Ian, he couldn't help but think.

#iwlg #barley lightfoot #ian lightfoot #ian onward #barley onward #pixar onward

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pierreslittleredblog · 3 years

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Inside the Eastern Bloc: A Brief History Of The Ex-USSR

“All victories inevitably come at a cost.” ‑ Mikhaïl Gorbachev, HBO Chernobyl

Nikola Tesla Boulevard on a summer evening, Serbia - Photo Source: Pierre (PLRB)

A Tale Of Winners & Losers

Nothing feels more hopeless than a self-destructing world around you. We often forget how easy we have it, snuggled in our cocoons of excessive love and smothering. Sometimes, we need to be remembered who we are and where we come from. Not too long ago did our grandparents struggled and fought for their basic needs. Of course, now, with our technology, we don’t even have to worry about the basic survival priorities of the past. With the simple click of a button, we can have everything delivered to our doorstep without even raising an arm.

Ah, doesn’t it feel good to taste the sweet fruits of our capitalistic labor? Isn’t it great to be the “winners” of today’s world? Sometimes, we tend to forget that our victories come at a great cost. Sometimes, we forget to humanize our enemies. They too can love, laugh, cry and fear. They too, are humans like us.

Propaganda poster of Yuri Gagarin - Photo Source: @soviet.propaganda on Instagram

Watch Out For The Communist!

Let me ask you a question: How many times have you heard the word “communist” on the news? My guess of your answer is quite a few times. Although rare, sometimes it is used simply to describe the people that identify with the socialist Marxist-Leninist ideology. Most of the time though, it is used as a pure and simple insult. An insult that describes everything we don’t understand, fear, and dislike.

This exact description though is exactly what our grandparents were told about the red flag-carrying “commies” over in the eastern bloc. When the canons of wars tear through the skies, governments tend to create a sense of unity within their population to, somehow, justify the war on a national scale. They dehumanize their enemies and convince us that we must fear the others, and win this war at all cost (as they did with Vietnam).

But when we don’t even know who our enemies are, how can we fully grasp what’s at stake?

Propaganda poster of Lenin’s revolution - Photo Source: @comrade_quotes on Instagram

Rise Up, Comrade!

Before getting into the modern Soviet Union (the 1970s-1990s), let’s focus on the beginning. If you went over to the former republics of the Soviet Union in 2021, you would notice how terrible everything looks. Potholes, crumbling buildings, outdated trolleybuses, and subway cars, beaten up Lada’s plowing through knee-deep puddles under the unimpressed look of the driver’s face.

When you come to witness this spectacle in person, it is easy to assume that the Soviets must’ve had it rough back in the day, and boy you would’ve been right. Once the Tsars were no more, the new Soviet party lead by the revolutionist Vladimir Lenin promised a bright and equal future turned on the workers and the equal distribution of their labor. However, this promise wouldn’t be easy to achieve. What followed afterward were decades and decades of purges, wars, hard work, and brutal leadership by our good ol’ friend Comrade Stalin. Some argue about Uncle Joe’s good intentions, but this is not what I want to focus on. Here I want to talk about the last soviet’s aspirations and dreams, the ones our western leaders promised to crush for our freedom.

Haludovo Palace of Kirk, Croatia - Photo Source: @socmod on Instagram

For The Happiness Of All Mankind

The 1970s was a great time to be a Soviet. If you were a citizen, you would’ve been able to move into brand new apartments, get a stable job in any industry you wish, get all the food you can eat, obtain the diploma you wanted, have access to healthcare, you would even be able to get a brand new Lada, and all for free! Yes, you’ve read that right: for free.

Communism in the Soviet Union wasn’t about a totalitarian regime and oppressing its citizens (as the western propaganda wants us to believe), it was about universal free access to one’s every need. Now of course there were some questionable policies such as limited free speech and limited access to the outside world beyond the iron curtain (however more and more freedoms were given to the Soviets in the 1980s with the arrival of Mikhail Gorbachev into office). The Soviet Union wasn’t lacking behind in technology either, in fact, it was the world’s second industrial and military superpower back in its heyday! They even sent the world’s first man into space.

This is what the real Soviet Union was about: unity and comradeship. They truly had a will to build a greater future for humanity and like us today, they had reached such a level of comfort that a bright future was taken for granted by everybody in the USSR.

However, this candor belief in a great future would suddenly come to a brutal end.

Edge of the Chernobyl Red Forest, Ukraine - Photo Source: Pierre (PLRB)

Porridge With A Side Of Radiation

It’s April 26th, 1986. In a small town of the Ukrainian SSR, citizens are eating breakfast and preparing for yet another routine day. Children are headed to school and parents, to work. Some of them could notice smoke coming out of the industrial site nearby, and others had heard rumors about a possible roof fire that started in the night.

However, nobody seemingly cared as everybody went on with their day none the wiser. At the same time on the other side of town, ambulances are flying in one by one into the general hospital, carrying firefighters from the smoking site. Nurses run outside and discover men with unusual burns, screaming in pain. Nobody knew what was happening and they all tried to assist them to the best of their knowledge. The citizens didn’t know it yet, but only 3 kilometers away from their homes, the worst nuclear disaster that mankind would ever experience had happened.

Today, this event is simply known as “Chernobyl”. Of course, back then, they had no clue about what was actually happening, and Soviet bureaucracy would immensely delay the travel of information up to the top state officials. It took them a full 3 days before they evacuated the town of Pripyat, and on the same occasion, creating the famous 30 km exclusion zone (which is still in place today). Of course, by then, it was already too late. Most of the citizens had already received a fatal dose of radiation that would affect their descendants for generations, and make their land uninhabitable for hundreds of years.

This event was a true shifting point for the USSR, as the Soviet leader Gorbachev took the opportunity for the first time in Soviet history, to be as transparent as possible with its citizens and to the world. He finally admitted that the Soviet Union is about to crash.

Palace of Yugoslavia, Serbia - Photo Source: Pierre (PLRB)

A Russian Traitor

Gorbachev told the shocking truth to its citizens. The country’s banks are empty, and for years the Union was living off the reserves accumulated in the past decades. The Soviet Union wasn’t producing anymore, and instead, became buyers. The self-sustaining system they had built before was no longer in place and everybody would have to brace for the rough years coming ahead.

This news naturally came as a true shock for the entire population, and suddenly all hopes of a bright future were lost. The citizens learned that the good years are over, and from now on, they should expect misery and poverty. The Cold War and the Afghanistan War had ruined the country’s economy, the former leader Leonid Brezhnev had lost the leadership with his lazy ways and had become too comfortable in his spending.

However, amid all this chaos and confusion, not a single second did anybody think the Soviet Union would simply collapse and disappear. They truly believed in the strong and powerful nation they had built in the past 69 years, and never imagined one second that it would come to an end. They thought they would simply fight through the rough years and rise again as they had done in the past century.

One politician though had another idea of how things would turn out. Boris Yeltsin, a man rejected by the Soviet party for having ideas too far away from the communist ideology, was grooming republics for their independence and made deals with the Americans without the knowledge of Mikhail Gorbachev, the leader of the Soviet Party. This is how bad the bureaucracy had gotten. They became so out of touch with their own reality that on December 8th, 1991 the Belovezha Accords were signed by Yeltsin and two other figureheads (without the knowledge of Gorbachev), essentially ending the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

Soviet mosaic bus stop in Kalmykia, Russia - Photo Source: @realbaldandbankrupt on Instagram

Shock Therapy

It’s Christmas Day, 1991, and the Americans have won. The Soviet Union, which they had fought for decades to end, finally ceased to exist. The dreams that were built, the futures seemingly so bright that was promised to its citizens, all disappeared on that one fateful night. What was a great victory for one side of the world, was a terrible event for the other. They had lost their nation, their future, their security.

They had now entered a decade of banditry, crime, and chaos. They were living through what we now refer to as “Shock Therapy”. The shift from communism to capitalism was so brutal that there were no more police to ensure safety. No more government to tell you what you can and cannot do. No more authority existed which left space for anarchy. The now ex-Soviet citizens were promised better times with the arrival of democracy but were only betrayed by the incompetence of their new leader that only brought them crime and misery.

Deteriorating children’s playground, Moldova - Photo Source: @kuca_ky_ky on Instagram

Crumbling Streets & Broken Dreams

Nowadays, the cities of the former Soviet Union seem to be nothing else than vast jungles of crumbling concrete. The brutalist blocks that were once the pride of a powerful nation, are now nothing but the symbol of a lost past and broken dreams. Elders remember the good days when they lived in a stable country, and the youth, forever and ever seduced with the exotic lifestyle of the Americans, see no future in their country and only dream about moving to the sunny beaches of California.

Ironically, the ex-Soviet generation fancies the lifestyle of those who caused their end, but we cannot blame them either. They truly don’t have much of a future in the former eastern bloc, and their old enemies seem to thrive more than ever now that their 20th-century nemesis had been eliminated for good. In the victories we win, we forget to remember the fate of our opposing forces.

On the surface, it may only seem like we are ending a powerful and evil regime, but underneath the surface, we fail to consider that we are also ending the peace and unity that existed in the nation.

We must recognize that we are not only ending a government but also all the hopes and dreams attached to it and that sometimes, we must put humanity first and political interests second.

The Genex Tower of Belgrade, Serbia - Photo Source: Pierre (PLRB)

A Word For The End

Thank you for reading my blog post about what I’ve retained from my trip to the former USSR. Please note that this is not meant to take a political side, but only to focus on the human aspect of the events. Either you’re a communist or a capitalist, everybody deserves a future and secure access to food, housing, education, and healthcare.

I have seen and met people who were deeply saddened by what they went through, and by the loss of their native country. Please remember that the government doesn’t always represent the population. A nation is 1% leaders, 99% normal people trying to make it in the world just like you and me.

If you are interested in learning more about the former Soviet world, I invite you to check out the YouTuber “Bald and Bankrupt”, which explores former USSR republics. He is the one that inspired my trip to the Ukraine last month.

If you are into music, I suggest you check out “Sovietwave”, which is a musical genre based on the nostalgia of the dreams and aspirations that the soviet people once had.

Thank you for reading and have a good day.

До свидания!

#ussr #sovietunion #russia #history #communism #socialist #soviet

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gojosgoddess · 4 years

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The Queen meets the Princess

Pairing: Jonathan Lyndale “DaBaby” Kirk x Black! Thicc reader

You finally meet Jonathan’s Princess.

Warnings: no warnings really, fluff

You rubbed your clammy hands against your thighs and bit your lip. You were waiting on Jon’s call as he went to pick up his daughter; Serenity, from his baby mama’s house. You were nervous as this would be your first time meeting the two year old toddler who you shared a key with to Jon’s heart. Your relationship had finally meet the bridge of meeting his child, and you were happy that your relationship was moving forward but the thought of meeting the adorable toddler scared you.

‘What if she didn’t like you? What if she thought you were trying to replace her mother? What if she cried when she met you and Jonathan breaks up with you? The ‘what ifs’ were swimming and doing laps in your mind as you looked in the mirror and fixed yourself

“Look girl, everything is going to be okay, Jon has spoken to her about you and he already assured that everything was going to be alright, so don’t worry.” You told yourself and nodded in affirmation. Your thoughts were cut off when you heard your phone ringing.

‘I keep it loaded when I ride cause I’m still a nigga

Fuck wit her to ease my mind, cause I be in my feelings’

You grabbed your phone and pressed answer.

“Hey boo.” You said smoothing out your outfit.

“Hey baby, wassup witchu? We outside mamas.” He said in his deep voice that just made you melt. You held your phone in your neck and grabbed your bag, walking down the stairs. “Okay baby, I’m on my way out now.” You said walking out the front door and locking it.

“Aight bae I see you coming out now.” He hung up as you looked up and saw him walking to you while holding Serenity’s hand. You breathed in and out as you placed your phone in your bag. You walked up to them and smiled at the father-daughter duo. Jon matched your smile while Serenity shyly stood behind her father’s leg.

“Ooh baby you lookin’ hella good right now, just wanna eat yo fine ass up right now.” He said once he brought you in for a hug and kiss. You gasped and lightly hit his shoulder. “Boy there is a baby present, what’s wrong with you?” You both laughed at each other before looking down at the pretty child.

“Baby, say hello to Daddy’s girlfriend.” He said in a soft voice which made coo in your head. She slowly came up from behind him. She waved at you with her thumb in her mouth. You waved back and she giggled, going back to her spot behind her father. You chuckled at the baby’s cuteness and crouched down to her level.

“Hey there little one, my name is Y/N, what’s yours?” You asked softly. She came up from behind Jon and held her little hand out. “My name is Serenity.” You raised your eyebrows and shook her hand. She honestly spoke so well for a toddler.

“Nice to meet you Serenity, that’s a very pretty name for a very pretty girl.” You tapped her little button nose and she started laughing.

“Look at my two babies getting along.” Jonathan said above you. “Come on girls, we need to start the day.” He said looking around. Both you and Serenity shared a look before looking at the love of your life. You sighed and stood straight, Jon grabbed your waist with his other hand and he picked Serenity up. She then started struggling in his hands.

“What’s wrong baby? We got to go.” Jon said confused. She then made grabby hands at you and Jon looked at you to see if it was alright. You nodded your head and smiled brightly. The young child smiled back at you as Jon passed her to you. You held her on your hip and made sure she was comfortable before walking with Jon again.

Jon kissed your cheek as he saw how comfy and natural you two looked. He didn’t say anything but he was a bit worried about how this morning was going to go but it seemed as things were heading in the right direction.

“I like your hair.” You heard the toddler whisper to you. You smiled and genuinely blushed before whispering back “thank you honey”. She then looked at her father and exclaimed “Daddy she called me honey!” She said with a smiled. You and Jon laughed before getting into the car and buckling her in.

The day went absolutely great, when you guys went out to eat, Serenity asked you to cut up her food and she kept admiring and playing with your hair. She even made you promise to do her hair the same way when you two see each other again. You all went shopping together and you bought her some clothes as well as shoes. The day was sadly over and she had to go back to her mother’s house. Her mother was picking her up so you got her things ready and gave her a juice box in the meanwhile.

“It was really nice meeting you today Serenity, you’re a very nice girl.” You said as you both sat on the couch side by side. She looked up at you and smiled, “Thank you, you a very nice lady too.” You both smiled at each other.

“I actually got a little gift for you.” Once you said that, she got excited and started jumping up and down in her seat. You told her to close her eyes and she placed her hands over her eyes while smiling brightly. You turned next to you to retrieve the collection of Woody, Buzz and the other characters from Toy Story. Jon stopped you to look you in your eyes and kiss you. “Thank you mamas.” He mouthed to you. You smiled and pecked his lips again. You turned back around to face the toddler.

“Okay baby, open your eyes.” She opened her eyes and literally screamed in happiness and kept speaking gibberish and pointing at the toys. You and Jon couldn’t help but laugh at her adorable freak out. She ended up hugging you tightly and repeatedly saying thank you. You picked her up and swayed her from side to side. You were so happy that she loved her gift.

“Shit I want some love too, y’all tryna cut a nigga out.” Jon said coming up behind you, holding you both and kissing Serenity’s cheek. “Daddy, don’t say that, that’s bad word.” She said sternly. “My fault baby, I’m sorry.” He said shaking his head. The sweet moment was disturbed when the doorbell rang. Jon stood up and you and Serenity separated and you packed her gift in her bag. She excitedly told you about all the adventures she would go on with her new friends. You could definitely see this was Jon’s baby.

“Serenity, come on babygirl, your Mama is here.” Jon said. You helped her down the couch and grabbed her bag and her hand as you approached Jon and his baby mama. You and his baby mama smiled at each other and nodded towards each other. There was never any bad blood between any of you for the sake of Serenity and also, it would be pointless.

“Hey baby, say goodbye to your dad and Y/N so we can go home okay?” She said with a small smile. Serenity nodded her head and Jon picked her up to give a goodbye kiss and place their foreheads on each other and give eskimo kisses, you felt your heart cooing as you took in the adorable sight. She then reached for you and you took her into your hands and she kissed your cheek, making you the same and she hugged you tightly, waiting for you to hug her back before she allowed you to give her to her mother.

You and Jon watched them get into their car and back out the driveway causing you to wave at them. You closed and locked the door when Jon grabbed you by your waist.

“Thank you again for today mamas, I really appreciate everything.” He said looking in your eyes. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Anything for you my love, plus I loved meeting her, you really did a good job raising that beautiful girl Jon.” You told him. He looked bashful and looked down before looking back up at you. He thanked you by kissing you and softly picking you up and taking you to your shared bedroom. “Been wanting to get in this ass since I saw you.”

dababy

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dababy My Queen (Y/IG/N) & My Princess

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theestallion This is the cutest thing, I swear!!!

stunna4vegas My niece & my sister-in-law looking like fam already

y/IG/n

Liked by theestallion, badgalriri and 1,407,888 others

y/IG/n Snuck away from @dababy big head ass to take pictures with my favourite person

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theestallion My favourite hot girl and hot baby together!!

dababy @y/IG/n Girl you gone stop coming for my head, plus you love my head anyway & @theestallion don’t make me split y’all up now

__________________________________________________________

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this, I wanted to try fluff since it’s been awhile since I had written anything fluff related, let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list down below.

Tags: @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression

~Natascha

#Natascha's Works #DaBaby x Reader #DaBaby #Dababy x black! reader #DaBaby x black!thick! reader #Fluff #DaBaby Fluff

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darkesttimelinestuff · 4 years

Link

7,713 words

Mature

Men make houses. Women build homes. –Proverb.

Come come, come out tonight. Come come, come out tonight. –Sherry, The Four Seasons

***

Oh, Halloween. How it coaxes all from their shells, a come-hither seduction of ghouls and their admirers. Whether one chooses to be a witch or a princess, a criminal or a cowboy – to paint their face and knock on doors, to drink until they are but pumpkins, mouths filled with their pumpkin guts – it is all done under the otherworldly spell of the undead, the souls that ascend from their place in the basement to play marionette games with the dolls who inhabit the first floor.

Fox Mulder has, over the years, made an exceptional doll. Spock, then Captain Kirk, then Spock again. Several years of him doing nothing but sitting alone and staring out the window, ignoring the pull of a fairy costume resting in a trunk in the attic. Even then he had been a prime target; Halloween souls feed on elation, but will take misery in a pinch. His misery tasted sweet like a tootsie pop. The saints love tootsie pops, all the waiting and the work. The sinners prefer Reeses.

There were others when the memories began to fade. Han Solo. Han Solo. Paul Stanley from KISS, though his first girlfriend ended up wearing most of the makeup. Han Solo. Doctor John Watson, although years later he would grit his teeth and mutter I should have been Holmes. Serpico at a Hoover party, the last one he went to. No one got it. Then Han Solo every year he chose to celebrate after, and by then he finally had Princess Leia at his side.

The halloween of 2016, he slips into his finest costume yet.

Fox Mulder. Hopeless romantic.

On one arm, he carries a bag that is filled with good wine, cheap wine glasses, and assorted fruits, cheeses, and fancy chocolate. He has convinced his partner that the actual contents are a P.K.E. meter (a psychokinetic energy meter, for those who have not seen the documentary Ghostbusters), a thermographic camera, an audio recorder, sage, a lighter, his gun.

On the other arm, or underneath it, is his partner. Who is unsure about such open gestures of affection while they are technically on the clock, even after all the years of steaming up their steakouts, but is not stopping him, and is possibly even snuggling back as the October chill descends.

“This is not a love story, Scully,” he warns, pulling her closer as they follow the long, winding pathway up their destination. Her body heat is his favorite temperature, even when it’s ice cold. “It is a story of lies, obsession, betrayal, and murder.”

“I think I’ve heard this one.” She bumps his arm with her shoulder and smiles up at him, her lips wine deep under the bright moon.

Their shoes are silent on the stone and disappear under the layers of fog that curl and cozy around them like amorous smoke. He tugs her closer still, filling his nose with the woodsy scent of her shampoo.

“The early 1960s, Scully. Free love was just a storm a’brewin in the air, and sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll were waiting on the doorsteps of American counterculture, waiting to be invited in. Doo-wop was still a prominent feature on family radio stations. The Beatles had yet to write their own songs, and Paul McCartney wouldn’t smoke his first joint until 1964. It was a wholesome time, Scully. You would’ve loved it.”

“I loved Rubber Soul,” she argues.

He rubs her shoulder. “But it wasn’t all sock hops and sweet Jackie Kennedy. We were fighting a war with Russia, a war of discovery, and losing to the success of Sputnik. The U.S. invaded Cuba, got their asses kicked, and were the laughing stock of the world. In the veins of America, in the buses and lunch counters, the streets and in the schools, thrummed the blood of a movement. The Civil Rights movement. The early 1960s was a time of immense change.”

They were getting closer and closer to the scene where it all took place: a sprawling, overly-windowed ranch style home, its angular roof sloping into flatlands. In the quiet darkness, the cars and the rest of the world all celebrating miles behind them, the house appears white, almost bleached. But when the sun comes out it will reveal its truth: baby pink painted wood.

“And situated in all of this madness, this time between tumult and revolution, hatred and love, was a woman named Sherry Battersea.” She hmm’s. That means Mulder, I love your stories. Keep going.

He does.

They arrive at the front door – solid mahogany, undistressed. The steps leading up to the porch are made from brick, unhassled by the years of disuse. With the moon hanging overhead, vines creeping onto the roof, and the glare of (assumed) white bathed in midnight blue and the shadows of trees rustling above, it looks absolutely– “Isn’t she beautiful?” Mulder whispers, moving his hand to Scully’s waist.

Precisely.

***

It’s all a bunch of phooey, if you ask him.

Didn’t expect that, did you?

He spent weeks finding the right place. The runner ups were all either too far away, too haunted, or not haunted enough. He wanted something with history, something still alive in the hearts of believers – but nothing verifiable, and nothing with a real reputation.

He wanted a pretty lie. Most ghost stories, he will begrudgingly admit, are indeed pretty lies.

He found the Battersea house on a subreddit dedicated to paranormal encounters, and this one hadn’t even managed to get twenty upvotes. He was number twenty. The Battersea home is in Virginia, which heavily swayed his opinion in its favor, and from the pictures posted the years of abandonment had not left it dangerous, which put it above two other options off his list. Making love to Scully while the roof collapses over their heads is a fantasy he put to rest many moons ago, about the time he realized they could just do it on a bed.

They roam the house with their flashlights, Mulder’s low voice playing in her ear as he finishes his story. “Sherry’s husband returned from war, but he never returned to her. She made this home for him and he wouldn’t even grant her the decency of staying the night.”

The biggest draw of the place had been its pristine condition. No graffiti stains the wood-paneled walls; the rooms were all intact. The interior design is a certified blast from the past, from the richly carpeted floors and textured rugs to the lucite furniture, pops of neon that splash under their flashlights. It is colorfully but rather tastefully decorated. It reminds him a bit of a movie set, which is another place he has been thoroughly laid by this woman.

As they move through the house, however, he realizes with mild disappointment the utter lack of haunting thrill. Nothing shifts in the night to give them pause. No dirt or dust to brush away, no holes in the walls or rot in the furniture. It doesn’t even smell old. It all feels more like a vacation home, some sort of themed romantic getaway, and they’re wading behind the scenes with the power turned off.

It’s not what he planned, but he’ll take it.

“Miss Battersea was a fashionable lady, keeping up with the times faster than they could come to her. She had a leopard skin pill-box hat before Jackie O had a leopard skin pill-box hat, and was dead by the time Bob Dylan could think to write a song about it.” Oh, that long, mid-century sectional couch. It might be white or a gawdy turquoise color. Whatever it is, he’s going to have her there. “She was a smart woman, too. The head of all of her many bookclubs. All of the books you see in here are hers.” His runs his beam over behind the couch, where the entire back wall is lined with books, and they move along. “And there are more in the den.

“She did everything she could to make her husband love her. She danced to his favorite records. She cooked for him and did his laundry. She cut her skirt an inch shorter with each passing trend.” They stand side by side, halted in the kitchen doorway. He turns his head and lets his eyes dip into her blouse. “I’ve been very appreciative of your new work wardrobe, by the the way.”

“Mulder,” she chastises, pulling her shirt down for better access. He laughs loudly at that, places his hand on the small of her back and leads her through the kitchen.

“She was driving herself crazy, trying to make him love her the way she loved him. And oh, did she love him, her sweet Maximus Battersea.” More wood paneling, and modular, pastel appliances that appear as if they haven’t aged a day since their prime. In the middle is a solid island with a geometric vase of dead flowers. This is where he’ll lay out all the food. Should’ve gotten flowers, he mopes to himself, but remembers that Scully doesn’t have a lot of patience for them. “They were high school sweethearts, and when he was 18 he was drafted off in the Korean War.

“Something was wrong when he came back. He got a job at some juicing plant working the machines, but showed a savvy for bossing people around that made itself known to the owners. He moved up quickly to supervisor and then warden. He and his little wife then bought this house, and Sherry made it her life’s work to take good care of it. Not a speck of dirt to be found.” Even to this day. They both marvel at the cleanliness. “Dishes were done as soon as they were used. Food was on the table for when he got home, still hot enough to serve. But he never got home to her at night. He would spend his nights at the bar, and then he became a favored customer at the Grand Major Hotel.”

“Oooooh. I would’ve killed the bastard,” Scully whistles, opening up a cabinet and standing on her tiptoes to peer in. He steps in behind her and lifts her up, chuckling when she screams and elbows him in the chest.

“Hmm, I know you would,” he mumbles in her ear, smacking a little kiss underneath it. All the glassware in the cabinet, chipless and clean as a whistle, clinks and jingles while she moves her hand through it. “You’re a jealous monster. So was Sherry Battersea.”

He’s making some of this shit up. He doesn’t know if she liked to read or if she was all that beautiful a woman, but the details make the story. “I’m not jealous,” Scully snorts, and he bites her neck as punishment for her blatant lie while dropping her back on her feet.

He wonders, as he pins her against the counter, if she’s caught on to his plans. He sets the flashlight down in front of her and snakes his arms around her from behind. “One night, he did come back to this big old house. But he was with someone else.”

“Oh, I would’ve killed him,” she repeats, tilting her head to get his lips on her neck. His nose brushes her cheek and he grins; she definitely knows. “I would’ve killed her.”

“And that’s what she did,” he says, kneading her hips. “They were on the couch, still mostly in their clothes. She snuck up from behind, and with all the power of her rage, she pushed one of her many bookcases right on top of them, crushing them to death.”

“I would’ve waited until they were naked. More humiliating.”

“Jealous. Monster.” Mulder says fondly, breaking away to grab her arm. “Now they say that Sherry Battersea remains in this house, long after she was convicted and put to death. She gave her life to building a home. It’s fitting that she give it her death as well.”

“And that’s what we’re here to investigate?” She says, narrowing her eyes.

“We’re here to say hi to old Sherry,” Mulder lies, urging her along. Neither of them are scared, despite of their previous history with ghosts. He’s not sure if Scully even remembers. That house had not been a pretty lie. It had only been filled with ugly truths.

On their way up the stairs, pausing at each creak even though the foundation is craftful and sturdy, a tune plays in his head. “Sherry… Sherry baby…” he sings, letting his voice go comically high. It’s too loud in the quiet house surrounded by nothing, and Scully turns around to slap a palm over his mouth.

“That’s a bad Frankie Valli impression,” she says, arching her eyebrow. “Want me to make it better?”

He kisses her palm. She takes it away and continues her charge up the stairs. When she’s far away enough, he finishes the line in his ghastly falsetto, voice cracking.

“Sherry, won’t you come out tonight?”

Come come, come out tonight. Come come. Come out tonight.

***

In the den on the other side of the house, a lightbulb flickers. The glow it casts under the lampshade is a soft, pinky red, the color of a deep blush. The winds caress the house with the sigh of a new lover. There is a soft scritching noise, a click of a record sliding into place. Static, and then…

Sherry, Sherry baby! Sherry, Sherry baby!

***

“I was listening to particle physicist Brian Cox on the radio the other day, talking with Neil deGrasse Tyson,” Scully says, sipping coffee from her thermos. She shivers a little in her suede jacket and Mulder regrets not finding somewhere a little warmer. Temperatures are at an all time high this fall in Virginia, but it’s still uncomfortable. He plans on warming her up anyway. “He’s a Professor at the University of Manchester and works on the Large Hadron Collider at CERN. You’ve probably listened to him before on a podcast. He tackles a lot of different concepts in science fiction. Frankenstein, for instance.”

“Corpse reanimation is my favorite,” Mulder says. “I know a lot about it.” She pets his hair and hands him her mug. He drinks from it gratefully. Another thing to regret. He hadn’t brought his own mug.

“Specifically, he was saying that ghosts could not exist because of what the collider tells us. You know what it does. It essentially uses a network of very complex, high-powered magnets – the largest, most expensive machine in the world – that are continuously switched on and off to send particles flying at almost the speed of light. The purpose of it is to find out what everything is made if. The particles collide and emit smaller particles, which we can observe, along with their interactions with other particles.”

“We used it to discover the Higgs Boson particle, which tells us how particles get their mass. The God Particle. It was a discovery over half a century in the making.”

“Mostly, yes. The argument was that if ghosts were real, they would emit particles that should be detectable in the Large Hadron Collider, and those particles would be able interact with the particles that make us up.”

Mulder’s silent for a moment, thinking. “What if the LHC isn’t powerful enough to detect those particles?”

“Mulder.” She licks her lips and angles her body towards him on the couch, looking into his eyes. Incredulity is still her best look. “This machine has been able to reconstruct temperatures and states of matter that only existed a microsecond after the birth of the universe, before it changed states. It is a very powerful machine.”

“But it still hasn’t answered everything,” he points out, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, we still know nothing about dark matter. And dark matter is called dark matter because we know nothing about dark matter, only that it could explain why galaxies might contain less mass than what we’ve calculated.” He nods at her, taking another sip. “Maybe all that extra mass is a bunch of ghosts. Bet you never thought of that.”

“Mmm. Your souls in the starlight.” He scoots closer to her, slowly sliding his arm behind her on the back of the couch. When he leans forward, she says, “Mulder, maybe we should split up.”

“What?” He says, not pulling back. There’s enough light coming in from the windows that he can see her clearly, her noble profile shadowed and unshadowed as he moves towards her. He smells her perfume… and pine sol. “Now why would we do that? Last time we split up during a case like this you shot me.”

“I didn’t shoot you. You shot me.” So she does remember. She’s still talking when his lips are close enough to brush hers. “But how are we gonna catch this ghost sitting down?”

“Well, we don’t have to be sitting down.” He kisses her, a chaste, sweet little thing. He pulls back an inch and kisses her again. And again. And again. “We can.” Kiss. “Stop sitting.” Kiss. “Anytime you want.”

“Mulder.” Kiss. “Where’s the ghost?” Kiss. “Where’s Sherry?” Kiss. She’s folding under his body weight, falling back into the remarkably undusty cushions. She cups his jaw in her small hands and kisses him for real, chasing the flicker of his tongue with her own. She stretches one leg behind him, lets the other fall off the couch.

He groans and shifts so that he’s nestled between her thighs. There is – so much he loves about kissing Scully. In a lot of ways he’s learning her all over again after the time they’ve spent apart. Her face is thinner, he can trace her bones with his fingers, but not that sickly thin it had been the day she walked out. Her hair got its shine back. She tastes like a day at the office, her coffee and Cliff bars and the Burt’s Bees lipstick she wears during the cold weather.

But. Kiss. Her hands are bunched up in his shirt, very much like she’s prepared to rip it off of him. But this is is going too fast. Kiss. He forces himself to break away, taking his hand out from under her blouse.

Trying to control her breathing, pupils dilated, she lifts her chin and licks his lips. “So you want me to shoot you this time around?”

He laughs and moves off of her, giving her space her to sit back up and fix her wrinkled clothing. He winces and struggles to rearrange his wayward dick. Men’s pants are so tight now. He misses the freedom of the 90s.

“I uh. So here’s,” he pauses, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Here’s the thing. There is no ghost.”

She blinks slowly. He wants to move a lock of silky red hair out of her eye, but keeps his hands to himself as she thinks things through. “You brought me to an abandoned house to… what? Make out with me?”

“Well, no. I mean yes. But I have…” All these years and this stuff still makes him tongue tied. “Libations. And… mood music.”

She raises her eyebrows, but her eyes are softer. “The Monster Mash?”

“The Prince version, yeah.” He leers at her. “It was a graveyard smash.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, letting her head fall back on the cushions.

“Think about it. The way I see it, Halloween is our holiday, right? Mr. and Mrs. Spooky.”

“No one ever called me Mrs. Spooky.”

“I did. All the time.”

She smiles. “I guess it beats the time you set me on fire for Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t want to kill the adrenaline here,” he says, partially damning himself for ruining it so early. He lost a good amount of blood to that kiss. “There could absolutely be a ghost here. I’m just saying this isn’t my most reliably sourced case.”

“Are any of them?” She sighs, but she reaches out to pat his shoulder. “Go grab us some libations and make me forget this conversation.”

He ducks down to kiss her cheek. “Yes ma’am.”

Taking his bag of goodies to the kitchen, he pulls out the wooden cutting board he brought along to serve everything and all of the bags of pre-cut cheese, crackers, fruit and meat. He hums while he works. Hm. Hm hm. Hm hm. Hm hm. Hm. And it starts over, the notes twanging loudly in his mind. It is almost as if he could hear it being played through the walls – he feels it from the outside, rather than in his head. He blames it on his massive erection. He takes out the wine glasses and fills them up high enough to placate Scully and make his mother roll in her grave. Vineyard folk are serious about their wine.

He gets a good look at the kitchen as he works, transported back into a time he doesn’t know very well. The cottages on the Vineyard never kept up with any particular trend, opting instead for the timelessness of colonial whitewash and brown trim. They changed out maids and nannies like they’d change the air filters, and neither Teena nor Bill put effort into upkeep. Neither cared much for fidelity either he grimaces, and immediately feels bad for doing so.

If there is any truth to the tale, he aches for people like Sherry who gave their all and never knew when to take it back. He gets it. Sometimes you fixate on people. He had been a victim of it more than once, and now he’s the one waiting for the one he loves most to come back home.

He grabs the cutting board and the wine glasses, balancing them carefully, anchoring the stopped bottle in his armpit. The second bottle of wine and the dessert he’ll save for later are left on the counter. He hums his way back to the living room, his woman still sprawled out on the couch, waiting for him, and he forgets about Sherry.

Behind him, in the kitchen, there’s a flutter in the cabinets, sounds of gently moving ceramic. A pleasant, almost feminine noise, like tinkering laughter. Then there’s the pop of a cork.

The bottle moves, sliding to the end of the island. Then it rises into the air, bobbing up and down as if being carried by invisible hands.

Over the sink, the bottle upends. The glug-glug-glug of sweet red flows into the pipes. Just one glass’s worth.

The air is warmer, somehow.

Like a full body flush.

***

He sweeps her over the creaking floorboards, her cheek pressed to his chest. The cold has left them. His phone sits on the sleek, white coffee table, and his Elvis tunes play, his Dylan, some acoustic hits. She nuzzles in closer and hums along to Roberta Flack, Sinatra, that Cher song they both like so much.

“Why don’t you believe in the ghost, Mulder?” She murmurs, a little sad.

“I don’t know that I’m against the idea of her existing,” he says into her hair, closing his eyes. They turn. Sometimes he dips her, sometimes he spins her, but they spend most of the time just like this: as close as possible, eyes closed, careful not to bump into any of the furniture. “I just need more proof these days.”

“Well,” she says. “I’ll believe for the both of us then.”

He lifts his chin from her head, surprised. He pushes her away to search her face. “You believe in Sherry?”

“You had me with that dark matter point,” she shrugs. “If souls… did exist, they would most likely exist as a form of matter we haven’t discovered yet.”

“Dana Scully, but you are tipsy,” he chuckles, pulling her back to him. “If you believe, I believe. Sherry Battersea is alive and with us.”

“Why’d you bring us here if you didn’t think it was haunted?”

He thinks about this, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “We’ve got a long way to go, don’t we Scully?” She looks up at him, cocking her head. “You haven’t…. Moved back yet.” His thumbs caress her waist. “Into our home.”

Her face falls. “Mulder–” she tries to step away, but he holds onto her, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, Scully. Scully, I’m not mad. I’m not asking you to do anything before you’re ready.” He presses a kiss to the center of her forehead, smoothing his hand down the length of her hair. She closes her eyes. “But I thought maybe… if I could recreate… not an exact replica of the good old days, because we were always getting our asses kicked, but something tonally similar, it might help. Show you that I appreciate you and that… I miss you, and that I’m so fucking grateful that…”

She saves him by wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a slow, mind-melting kiss.

There are none of the cobwebs that decorated all those places in their youth, not like he’d been hoping. The shadows that float across the room are all accounted for. There is no fear. It is not quite like the old days, but he remembers this: holding her hips as they move above him in the dark, the rise and fall of her upturned breasts, the underside of her chin when she tosses her head back and gasps. She rides him into the couch, the sweltering sheath of her body spreading warmth from his cock to the tips of his fingers and toes. He watches her face in the shadows again, how her expressions undulate in the moonlight. She still keeps her apartment, but she’s come back to him in every way that matters.

In the kitchen, a bottle breaks. A tray of dark chocolates hits the wall at full speed.

“Did you hear that?” Scully breathes, furrowing her brow but not stopping, refusing to stop their decades-old rhythm. His hands slip around to grip her rear and he shakes his head. Wind rattles the windows, a howling, devastated screech that neither Mulder nor Scully can relate to.

***

“…Mulder,” Scully frowns, her nude form wrapped up in a fleece blanket he’d brought in from the car. She sits on the floor in front of the middle bookcase, running her fingers over the titles. “You said this place was abandoned, right?”

He’s dozing on the couch, KO’d from sex and the little bit of wine they’d had. “Mmm,” he rubs his cheek and yawns. “Yep. No one lives here.”

“I just find it odd that a place that’s been abandoned for so long shows so few signs of disrepair. In fact…” she runs her hand over the books again. “This place is cleaner than my own. You’re absolutely sure no one lives here?”

“It’s condemned,” he says. “Government says it’s no longer fit to live in.”

“That’s… weird.” She pulls out an old pulp romance novel and flips through the pages. “It seems perfectly habitable.”

“It might have something to do with the plumbing. There are all sorts of strange, outdated Virginia laws that classify a place as livable –” he’s cut off by a sharp yelp and a thud. He sits straight up and peers over the couch. “Scully?”

“I’m okay,” she groans, massaging the back of her head. “A book fell and hit me from the top shelf. But it hit me hard. Jesus, it feels like I got pelted with it.”

He climbs over the back of the couch to join her on the floor, and she laughs when he pecks and pats the top of her head.

“I have just the thing to make it better,” he says, standing back up.

“Again? So fast?” She sounds impressed. Excited. He shoots her a look.

“I was offering more wine, Scully. But ouch.” Her cackling follows him into the kitchen.

The sight that greets him freezes him cold. That extra wine bottle rests in a million shiny pieces, and what was once a glaringly yellow wall bleeds dark red with the wine streaking down to the sideboards. “Scully?” he calls out hoarsely, approaching the scene with caution.

“Shit!” she screams. His stomach drops with fear and he darts back out into the living room to find her huddled under hundreds of fallen books. “What the hell?”

“Scully!” He drops to his knees beside her, throwing book after book off to the side and clutching her face in his hands. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Not bad, but I’m beginning to see why this place might be condemned. The bookshelf just rattled and all the books fell off. Maybe there’s something wrong with the foundation.” He helps her out of the pile and they both move away, far back from the shelf.

“Rattled?” he asks, alarmed. “Like it was being shaken?”

“I thought it might be coming from the walls,” she posits, but that doesn’t sit right with him. Anxiety begins to gnaw his stomach into pits.

“You don’t think,” he starts and stops, biting his lip. He wants to put his clothes back on. The chill is coming back. “You don’t think that…”

“Think what, Mulder?”

“That… something was trying to push the bookshelf? On purpose?”

She looks at him, startled. “What? Like a ghost?” He nods his head, shrugging, and she angrily clutches the blanket around herself, turning her back to him to pick up her clothes. “You just told me you didn’t believe there were any ghosts here.”

“You just told me you did,” he argues, following his own garment trail.

“Mulder,” she whines, pulling on her bra. “I don’t actually – I was just…”

“You were lying?” He asks, pausing with his shirt over his head. The hurt catches him off guard.

“I wasn’t lying, I just… I’m so…” she sighs, doing up her fly and buttoning up her shirt. “I never know how you’re feeling these days, and…” she doesn’t finish. He nods slowly, a hot wave of dejection flooding his cheeks. There are traces of ancient anger he wants to pull from, that’s the easier path, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“I never needed you to lie to me, Scully, and I certainly never asked you to,” he says roughly. He turns away from her to pull on his underwear, jeans, and jacket. He ignores her attempts at apologies and walks in long strides to the kitchen. “Come look at this,” he calls to her flatly.

Just when he thinks he’s pushed past the resentment of her leaving and the guilt at having made her leave, all of the other feelings are brought to the forefront. The shame. The fragility. He’s spent the last several months trying to prove to her that he can make it on his own – that his need for her doesn’t stem from an inability to function without her, but the irrefutable fact that they work so much better together – and the whole time she’s been… what?

Seeing him as a fucking child? Wearing kid-gloves in all of her interactions with him, holding back her opinions in fear of setting him off? Oh, Jesus. Is this why she won’t move back? She thinks he’s not ready?

“Here.” Side by side, they stand in front of the stain on the wall, mindful of the smushed chocolates and shards of glass.

“Maybe they fell?” Scully guesses weakly, at least having the decency to look contrite.

“They fell? At fifty miles an hour?” Maybe there is some anger he can pull from. “Unlikely. Didn’t you tell me you felt like that book had been pelted at you?”

“Yes but Mulder that could be anything. You said yourself the house was condemned.”

“Yeah, but–” he bends down to inspect the chocolate on the floor, picking one crushed morsel up to show her. “This looks… this looks like it’s been stepped on, crushed by something. What kind of foundational issue would cause that?”

She looks at it and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Let’s split up,” Mulder says. “Take the top floor. I’ll take the bottom. It’s what we came here for anyway, right?” And he leaves her alone in the kitchen.

***

The den drastically departs from the design ideal of the rest of the house. Under his flashlight he spots leather rock chairs, worn and overstuffed, plain walnut bookshelves and orange shag carpets. He looks through the books and the desk drawers, searching for anything personal. Photos, journals, receipts kept, anything that might give him any insight into Sherry Battersea and the lonely, lonely house she kept. No luck.

There is a large stack of records sitting next to a hefty Champion record player, dressed in supple red leatherette. He flips through them. The Big Bopper. Fats Domino. The Lennon Sisters. More and more of the same ilk – an Elvis Christmas LP he’s pretty sure is the real deal, and which he shamefully considers sliding under his coat. He then inspects the player itself, lifts the arm to see the stack of singles underneath it. He lets the arm fall back into place.

It begins to play.

He yelps, stumbling backwards and collapsing onto the rock chair as the music plays loudly enough to fill the house.

Sherry! Sherry baby! Sherry! Sherry baby!

Mulder clutches for the back of the chair and watches in terrified fascination as the entire den comes to life. The lamp flicks on and casts the room in its soft pink light, turning brown into different shades of red. Warmth trickles in from the air vent and all in his body he feels the electric hum of a machine coming to life. He knows instantly that means every other room in the house must be waking up in the same way. Scully he thinks, attempting to jump to his feet.

He’s knocked back on his ass. “What the–” he tries again, and the shag rug slithers out from underneath the desk, coming at him like a cautious snake.

Sherry! Sherry baby! Sheeeeeeeeeeeeerry bay-ay-by! Sherry, can you come out tonight?

“Scullllllaaaay!” He shouts, but he’s no match against The Four Seasons bleating from the – not from the record machine, but from – everywhere, what –

Why - don’t - you - come out? Come out! To my twist party! Where the bright moon shines!

The rug does just that, rises up, twists back and forth like wringing water out from a cloth. Still moving slowly it comes up to his feet, and he brings his legs up and hugs his knees close to his body, expelling an embarrassing squeak that would give Frankie Valli a run for his money. The rug continues its ascent, sliding up his legs, like – like a caress - gentle – warm – not like a rug, but like –

Like a human.

Mulder kicks his legs out with as much force as he can muster and the rug drops to the floor with a muffled poof. Then he’s leaping out of the chair and throwing open the door, giggling crazily when – he swears he feels it – something invisible tugs at his shirt, at his pant legs and hands.

He runs out out of the den into the open hallway like a scene straight out A Hard Day’s Night, and it’s just as he suspected. All the lights are on, and the Battersea house is thrown into full technicolor, much more vivid than he could have imagined. The lucite chairs are the brightest reds and blues he’s ever seen on furniture in his life, the sofa and the tables and the cleanest, starkest white. The light from the bulbous chandelier sparkles and spins. That pine sol scent – and then something else – Shalimar? – the alien-looking Philco television set on its tall thin stand, some old Gunsmoke episode. Then the channels flip and flip and it’s the Twilight Zone, and he’s being shoved by the air over to the couch. “Scully!” He yells again, laughing, merrily going along with the phantom guide. How is this for proof of a spirit world? This has got to be the single strongest case for the existence of poltergeists ever experienced. “Scully! Come here!”

“Mulder!” Scully screeches, straight from the gut.

Three gunshots go off.

His laughter corks in his throat, his heart drops to his stomach. Mulder races into the kitchen, faster than the grip that vies for him. The wine has been scrubbed from the walls, the glass swept from the floor. Something delicious simmers on the stove, and as he darts past the island he notices a bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice pouring into a metal mixer. No body performs the action. They float in the air and the liquid comes out in steady, even streams.

That’s his drink. He shudders and hops up the stairs, taking two at a time. Scully’s voice has died out but he can still hear it pounding in his head, along with the never ceasing with your red dress on! Mmm you look so fine! and his ragged breath. “Scully!” He yells again, throwing open every door as he comes to it. The towels in the bathroom, the shower curtain, all rip themselves from their places and slither and slide after him, licking at his ankles and tripping him up. Gold and copper tubes of lipstick chase behind him, leaving behind perfect lip imprints on the walls.

When he gets to the bedroom, he finds Scully bound and gagged to the four poster bed, screaming into the pillowcase stuffed in mouth. “Scully,” he hisses, falling to his knees in front of her, pulling out the gag and deftly untying the knots around her ankles and wrists.

“That crazy–” she coughs and struggles underneath him, making it impossible to get her unbound. “That crazy bitch –” “Stop moving–” but she won’t, she’s writhing and wrestling until he has to cover her with his weight, yelling at her all the way. “Crazy fucking bitch!” She screams. When she’s free from her ties she shoves Mulder off of her and hops to her feet, tearing through the bedroom like a hurricane. “Where the fuck did she put my gun–”

“She took your gun?” Mulder panics, ripping through the room with her. “Scully, did you–” he sees it, three bullet holes in the corner of the ceiling. “Did you shoot the house, Scully?”

“You bet I fucking shot the house!” She screams. “Aha!” She pulls out the gun from the nightstand, cocks it, and tries to run out of the room.

“Scully,” Mulder grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her to him, ignoring her struggling. “Scully, I’m thinking this is an extremely malevolent, extremely powerful poltergeist. You cannot shootpoltergeists–”

She whips around, turning on him and backing him into the wall. “Malevolent? Did she drag you by your hair into the bedroom and tie you to a bed, Mulder? You look suspiciously unharassed.”

He licks his lips and stutters. “Uh, no. That has not been – that has not been my experience.” She raises both eyebrows and crosses her arm, waiting for him to continue. He rushes on. “I think Sherry’s still here, trying to take care of her husband.”

Scully steps back, eyes widening in shock. Her mouth opens and closes. Slowly, quietly, she asks, “Are you saying… the… poltergeist… is trying to seduce you?”

“And kill my mistress? Yeah,” he huffs a laugh and wraps his arms around her stunned and silent frame, letting his body relax against hers for just a minute. He’s getting too old for this kind of exertion. “Oh, god. You scared the shit out of me, Scully.”

“Sorry to cause so much stress, Mr. Battersea,” she grumbles, burying her nose in his neck. He nuzzles her hair and she lifts her head, slotting their lips together in a sweet, relief-filled kiss. If she’ll forgive him his affair with the carpet, he’ll forgive her everything. She pulls back, shaking her hair out of her face and straightening out her shoulders. “Now how do we get rid of this thing? What’s all in that bag you brought?”

He freezes. Shit.

“Mulder, no,” she says, horrified.

***

They slink down the stairs, Scully first, gun first, just in case. The breath of the house is soft, deceivingly calm. The music has been shut off. No objects float in the kitchen, the stove is turned off. Nothing tries to pull Mulder out of his clothes, or Scully into a closet.

“I think our little display back there pissed her off,” Mulder says grimly, staying close behind Scully.

“You’re my husband,” she bites out, straightening her shooter’s stance. “I kiss you whenever I want.”

They pause before entering the living room, looking at each other.

“That’s where it all happened,” Mulder whispers, nodding his head at the door. “If we go out there…”

“Should we just make a run for it then?” Scully asks, biting her lip. He bites his lip, too, and they meet each other’s eyes. He nods slowly.

They take off, pounding their feet against the hardwood and running as fast as they can, Mulder’s hands barely grazing Scully’s shoulders, but they never stood a chance. Floorboards are snatched almost from under their feet; chairs and tables go hurtling through the air. They drop down, Mulder curling his body over hers and shielding his head when bronze ornaments chuck themselves off of their stands, decorative mirrors drop to the floor, sending their shards flying.

From every molecule of the house, Frankie Valli’s falsetto warps into a deep, unsettling baritone.

Come come. Come out tonight. Come come. Come out tonight. Come come. Come out tonight.

“Say a prayer, Scully,” Mulder groans, wincing when a piece of glass whizzes past his head and scrapes up the back of his hands. She begins to frantically mutter one under her breath, but it’s useless. The storm doesn’t stop.

“Sherry,” Mulder tries. “Sherry!” He says louder. The music ends, but the the violence doesn’t. “Sherry, I know you were hurt!”

A woosh of a sigh is expelled from all the air vents. Objectiles drop straight to the floor. Mulder takes a deep breath and rolls off of Scully, who chokes and coughs into her arm.

He keeps going, not exactly sure what he’s saying. “Your husband was a selfish man who didn’t treat you the way you deserved. You loved him. You gave him everything. You cleaned up every mess, you paid every bill, you did everything he asked of you and it still wasn’t enough.” He swallows, pressing his bleeding hand to his stomach. “He still wouldn’t come home to you.

“It wasn’t your fault, Sherry. People who love you don’t do that to you. People who love you know that you aren’t perfect and come home to you anyway.”

The house is so quiet it is almost as if his soft, soothing voice has lulled it to sleep, and for a moment he thinks it has. Water drips from the air vents, from the windows, single, silent tears of condensation.

Crumpled next to him, Scully is sniffing. He glances at her, worried, but she’s smiling through her tears, sliding her hand through debri and dust to wrap around his. He smiles back, surprised to discover that he’s crying, too.

But she’s suddenly yanked away, screaming as those invisible hands drag her by her ankles and toss her onto the couch. “Scully!” Mulder yells, getting up to run toward her.

He’s tripped by an orange shag carpet.

“It’s not you, Sherry, it’s me,” he whimpers, frantically wriggling as the carpet begins to roll up with him inside of it. He groans and drags himself across the floor with his hands, carpet and all. The Philco set buzzes past him in the air and he shouts. “Watch out, Scully!”

He doesn’t see where it lands, but it the sound it make is a sickening smack, a bludgeoning soundtrack. “Scully?” No response. “Scully?”

He groans, dragging himself with agonizing slowness until he’s at the couch. Propping himself up his arms, his legs still wrapped in the rug, his mouth waters in fear and his stomach tightens at the sight of her, pale and silent, with one patch of bloody red hair staining her temple.

He checks her pulse, is relieved to find it faint, but still there. He kicks and pounds inside his trap until it’s beaten slack and stupid, and lifts himself onto the couch.

“Scully?” He lightly touches the spot where she’s hurt and she jerks her head and groans. “Oh, thank god.”

“Take me to dinner next time,” she winces, feeling the wound for herself and hissing out when she brushes the most tender part. She sits up, he pulls her hair away to give her better access. “I probably need to go to the hospital for this.”

“Well let’s try and get you there, partner.” One hand on her back, the other on her shoulder, he tries to help her up, but is interrupted with the sound of… “Scully. Scully, shit.”

“What?”

“Scully, the bookca–” SLAM.

***

She hauls him out of the dead and empty house, panting with the exertion and the throbbing pain in her head.

“I think–I think she went back to sleep,” Mulder yaps manically. “I think that put her to sleep. Reenacting the – the crime.” “We’re not dead, Mulder,” she grunts. Another foot down the driveway. “I just wish we were dead.”

“I think we better call an ambulance, Scully,” he says, resigned. “I don’t think either of us can drive.”

They call the ambulance and wait. Scully plops down beside him, wincing as the morning sun reflects off the ugly pink wood and cuts into her blurry vision. “This sucks, Mulder,” she sighs, squeezing her fists into her eyes.

“God, I know. This was a terrible idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“How are you going to help me move with two broken ankles?” She sighs again, shaking her head. “I’ll have to hire somebody now.”

He beams at her.

***

All the spirits rejoice and return to their graves for their year long sleep.

***

Girl, you make me lose my mind!

#fanfic #xfiles fanfic #the x files #txf #wtfmulder #mulder #scully #mulder and scully #mulderxscully #halloween #haunted house #spooky #msr

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triptuckers · 5 years

Text

The Harvard Hoodie (Shawn Mendes)

Request: Nope Pairing: Shawn Mendes x female!reader Summary: You love Shawn’s Harvard hoodie. This is five times you’re wearing his hoodie. Warnings: None except for this is fluffy as hell Word count: 2.5K ish A/N: Can you tell what look on Shawn is my favorite? This is my first piece of writing on this blog, I hope you like it! I’m currently working on a Jim Kirk x reader, Trip Tucker x reader, Steve Rogers x reader and a Mena Massoud x reader since I saw Aladdin yesterday and I fell in love with Mena and Naomi. I’ll let you know when I’ll post one of them. Enjoy reading this!!

One – The one where Shawn thinks he lost his hoodie

You hear a deep sigh coming from the other room. Shawn is on tour again, but this time you decided to join him. Usually, you stayed at home. It’s not that you didn’t want to come along, you always loved to see Shawn on stage and explore new cities. But you had an important position within the company you were working for. Your boss depended on you and you couldn’t just leave for months because your boyfriend was touring the world. However, this time it was your boss who suggested you should go with Shawn. She said you needed a vacation as a reward for all the hard work. So here you are, in a hotel room in Europe. You hear another deep sigh coming from the other room followed by a loud groan.

You poke your head around the door and see all of the contents of his suitcase are spread on the bed, his suitcase on the ground. Shawn himself is standing in the middle of it all, clearly irritated. He’s pinching his nose bridge, one hand on his hip. ‘You okay, babe?’ you say. Shawn looks up and sees you looking at the mess. ‘Did you lose something?’ you ask. Shawn shrugs and shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I swear I packed my Harvard hoodie, but now I can’t find it anywhere.’ says Shawn and he lets out another deep sigh. ‘Maybe you should put everything back in your suitcase, see if you can find it?’ you suggest. ‘Yeah, maybe I just didn’t see it.’ says Shawn and he begins to fold his clothes and putting them in the suitcase. You watch him as he puts his stuff back in his suitcase. When he’s done he looks at you again. ‘See? Nowhere to be found.’ says Shawn. You bite your lip to stop yourself from chuckling. You don’t leave your spot at the door. Shawn looks at you and notices you haven’t entered the room yet. He looks at you and narrows his eyes.

‘Babe.’ he says. ‘Did you get my hoodie out of my suitcase?’ You try to shake your head convincingly. ‘No.’ you say. Shawn looks at you and raises his eyebrow at you. ‘Maybe.’ you say. Shawn crosses his arms in front of his chest, his eyebrow is still raised. ‘Yes.’ you say and you step in the room. You’re wearing the Harvard hoodie. Shawn chuckles. ‘I should have known.’ he says as you walk up to him. ‘You love that hoodie way too much.’ You wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against his chest. ‘It’s comfortable.’ you mumble. ‘I know.’ says Shawn. ‘That’s why I was looking for it.’ You look up to Shawn and smile. ‘Maybe you should donate it to a certain girl.’ you say and Shawn laughs and shakes his head. ‘Maybe a certain girl should buy herself a Harvard hoodie.’ says Shawn. You shake your head. ‘It won’t be the same.’ you say. Shawn bends down and kisses the tip of your nose. ‘I love you.’ he says. You smile. ‘Love you too.’ you say.

Two – The one where Shawn thinks he lost his hoodie (again)

Shawn steps outside and he’s immediately met by the heat of the sunshine and the screaming and yelling of his fans. No matter where he would go, they would always find out which hotel he was staying at. Jake walks past him and tells the fans to back up a bit. Walking back to Shawn, Jake tells him he can talk to them but as soon as the car got here, he would have to leave. Shawn nods and walks over to his fans. ‘Hi honey!’ he says to a girl who is holding out her phone. ‘Shawn, I loved the show yesterday! You were so good!’ she says. ‘Thank you so much.’ says Shawn and he takes her phone to take a photo with her. Shawn talks with his fans and takes photos with them as he waits for the car to arrive that will take him to the airport.

Shawn notices a girl who is wearing a hoodie similar to his Harvard hoodie. He walks up to the girl and points at her hoodie. ‘I like your hoodie, it looks like mine.’ he says smiling. ‘Thank you! Where’s yours?’ asks the girl. Shawn sighs. ‘Well, actually, I think I lost it. For real this time. I can’t find it anywhere and I definitely brought it with me. Might have to buy a new one.’ says Shawn. Suddenly, there’s a lot of screaming of the fans. Shawn turns around and sees you walked out of the hotel as well. You are wearing his beloved Harvard hoodie.

Shawn smiles as he looks at you. ‘I think I found it.’ says Shawn, more to himself than to the fan. ‘My god, she looks so good in it.’ he turns to look at the fans. ‘It was so nice meeting you, excuse me.’ he says and he walks over to you. Shawn hugs you from behind as the car pulls up. He presses a soft kiss to your temple. ‘Hi babe.’ you say. ‘Ready to go?’ ‘I am, now that I found my hoodie.’ says Shawn. You turn around so you can face him. ‘It’s comfortable!’ you begin to defend yourself. Shawn smiles. ‘I know. And you look great in it. So I suggest you keep it on.’ Shawn tells you.

Three – The one where you pick him up

Your alarm woke you. You groan as you begin to search for your phone. Your hands finally touch the cold back of your phone and you turn the alarm off. It’s 3 am. You drag yourself out of the comfortable bed and into the shower. You put on music and hope it will help you wake up a little. A smile appears on your lips as one of Shawn’s songs comes on shuffle. It’s been nearly two months since you last saw him. He left for the European leg of his tour. He promised he’d come home right away after the last show ended, not wanting to be away from you any longer.

And so you’re getting ready to go to the airport to pick him up. Shawn doesn’t know you’re coming, which makes it even more exciting. You throw your hair up in a messy bun and slip on one of Shawn’s hoodies. Looking over at your makeup, you don’t even bother putting it on, it’s in the middle of the night and you doubt if anyone other than Shawn and the crew will see you. As you enter the kitchen you rub your eyes and make yourself a cup of coffee to take with you. While you wait for your coffee, you look up Shawn’s flight so see where he is. The little airplane on the screen of your phone shows it’s not going to take long before it lands. Pouring the coffee in a to go mug, you grab the keys of the jeep and leave the apartment.

Since there weren’t much as many flights as there were during the day, finding a parking spot was a lot easier. Once you parked the jeep, you get out and you head for the main entrance of the airport. You narrow your eyes as you glance at a big screen, trying to find Shawn’s flight number to see what gate he arrives at. It takes you a solid five minutes before you find the flight number and the gate. After that, you spend at least ten minutes walking to the gate, that’s on the other end of the airport. You feel your eyes are starting to feel heavy, and your body starts to feel heavier as well. You look around the gate, searching for a chair you can relax in as you attempt to fight the urge to sleep. You try to get comfortable in the cheap airport chair as you wait for Shawn. After a while, you have to give in. You tell yourself you’ll only close your eyes for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, that’s it.

Shawn walks through the doors of the gate, pulling his suitcases with him in one hand and pushing a cart with his guitars on it with the other hand. He got some sleep on the plane, but he’s still tired. Shawn wants to get home as soon as possible, to have you in his arms again. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see Andrew smiling at him. ‘Your girl’s here.’ says Mike and he points at a set of chairs on the other end of the gate. In one of the chairs, you’re curled up, your eyes closed and the hood of the hoodie you’re wearing pulled over your head. Shawn smiles and his heart warms at the sight of you. ‘Looks like someone is waiting for the owner of that hoodie to come home.’ says Shawn.

Shawn walks over to you and kneels in front of you. He raises his hands and pushes a streak of your hair behind your ear. You inhale deep and open your eyes. Shawn’s brown eyes meet yours and you smile tiredly. ‘Hi.’ you say and you sit up, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake up. ‘Hey.’ says Shawn. ‘I didn’t know you were picking me up?’ ‘Surprise.’ you mumble and you wrap your arms around Shawn’s neck. You feel how Shawn buries his head in your neck, his curls tickling your cheek. ‘It’s good to be home.’ mumbles Shawn against the skin of your neck. ‘I missed you, I missed my home.’ mumbles Shawn and you smile and close your eyes.

Four - The one in which you are sick

The burning pain in your lower back wakes you up from the nap you were taking. You groan as you pull yourself out of bed. Your head still feels heavy as you leave the bedroom and enter the kitchen. You hear the sound of Shawn playing the guitar coming from the living room. Normally you’d sit next to him so you could listen but today the sound is too loud for your headache. You get a glass out of the sink and fill it with water. Walking over to one of the cabinets, you open it and you stand on your toes to get some medicine.

‘Need some help, little one?’ You jump at the sound of Shawn’s voice. You turn around to look at him. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’ says Shawn with a soft smile on his lips. ‘It’s okay, I didn’t hear you coming in.’ you say. Shawn walks up to you and gets the medicine out of the cabinet. ‘How’s the headache?’ he asks as he hands you the medicine. ‘Better.’ you say. ‘But my back’s worse.’ You take the medicine and squeeze your eyes shut. ‘It’s been years and I’m still not used to the taste of that.’ you say. Shawn chuckles and pulls you in his arms. You let out a sigh and you wrap your arms around Shawn. The feeling of being in his arms and his warmth already make you feel better. Shawn rubs circles on your back and you bury your head further into his chest, melting into his touch. Shawn lowers his hands and starts to rub your sore lower back. You hum out of approval, the pain in your back fading away a little.

‘Anything else I can do for you, baby?’ asks Shawn softly. ‘Hmm just cuddle with me. Your arms around me already make me feel better.’ you mumble. Shawn pulls away from the hug and takes your hand in his. He walks you back to the bedroom. You sit down on the bed and Shawn hands you his Harvard hoodie, knowing how much you love it. He changes into a shirt and a pair of sweatpants himself before lying down with you. You lay your head on his chest as Shawn wraps his arms around you. Shawn kisses your cheek softly and you close your eyes. ‘Get some rest, my love, I’m not going anywhere.’ he tells you.

Five – The one in which you miss Shawn as he’s on tour

A heavy sigh left your lips as you clicked on the next episode of your favorite show. Your arms hug your upper body, the feeling of Shawn’s absence becoming more and more with every day you spent alone in your shared apartment. He’s on tour again, calling and texting you whenever he can, but it’s of course not the same as holding him in your arms and hearing his voice in person.

Your phone makes you snap out of your thoughts and you glance over at it. Your heart jumps at the sight of Shawn’s name on your lockscreen and the sound of your ringtone. You answer the call and Shawn’s face appears on the screen. You smile brightly and a huge smile grows on Shawn’s face as well.

‘Hi my love, I hope you aren’t busy?’ you ask. Shawn shakes his head. ‘No we just finished up sound checking, Alessia is going to sound check now, so I figured I’d give my favorite girl a call.’ Shawn tells you. You smile again. ‘I’m glad you’re having fun. Alessia told me you all went out for dinner last night?’ ‘We did!’ says Shawn excitedly. You watch him as he talks about dinner with the band, about tour, and something stupid Brian did. His eyes twinkled and the biggest smile was on his face. Whenever Shawn would call you while he was on tour, he’d always be so happy and excited and your heart would melt at the sight of it.

Shawn asks you what you did today and you tell him about the lunch you had with one of your best friends, that you went shopping after that and that you’re now watching your favorite show on Netflix. You shivered as a cold feeling spread from your head to your toes and you got up, taking your phone with me. ‘Cold?’ chuckles Shawn. You roll your eyes playfully at him. ‘Not every one of us gets to visit warm cities every time they go on tour.’ you say as you open Shawn’s closet. You put your phone aside as you look through Shawn’s closet, looking for a particular hoodie. ‘On the left.’ you hear Shawn’s voice coming from your voice behind you. You look to your left and indeed, you see the grey hoodie you were looking for. You take it out of the closet and put it on. You grab your phone again and pout at the screen. ‘What’s wrong, darling?’ asks Shawn. ‘It doesn’t smell like you anymore.’ you say and Shawn laughs. ‘And that means?’ he asks you. ‘Means I need you home.’ you sigh. ‘Soon, baby, soon. Just a couple more weeks until you’re in my arms again.’ Shawn tells you. You smile. ‘See you soon, Shawn.’ you say and he smiles back at you.

A/N:

If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for, I’ll be making a masterlist once I have written more. Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

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imacrowcawcaw · 4 years

Text

MY MASTERLIST

Sweetness hot meets sweetness cold, light and airy swirls around dark and heavy for the perfect blend.OTHER LINKS: WATTPAD & ROCK FIC

@insannywestan - Sanny shipping blog

@theladylovingcrow - my writing/art blog. If you wanna skip all the other posts on my main and get straight to the good stuff, go here (or use this masterlist!)

*** CONTAINS SMUT

* CONTAINS SEXUAL THEMES/EXTENSIVE KISSING

Greta Van Fleet

SANNY (Sam Kiska x Danny Wagner)

*** The Most Beautiful Distraction - tumblr - AO3

"Wanna ride you," Sam sighed, admission joining the swirl of colors in the air around them; burgundy kisses, blue touches, bright electric flashes of pain subdued by delicate green affection and care. Danny ached for him - the fiery burn in his stomach overcoming the duller waves from his burned hands.

*** Fuck The Movie, I Wanna Fuck You - tumblr - AO3

They were taking a break from touring, just chilling back in Frankenmuth. Danny had come over to his second home, and was snuggled up on the couch with his best friend, watching a movie. Everyone else was doing their thing - cooking, playing, talking on the phone - all perfectly normal for a nice, happy family. But FUCK Sam was feeling horny, naughty, and curious as to how Danny would react if he moved his hand just a bit higher....

*** Skin on Skin, Hearts Laid Bare - tumblr p1, p2, p3 - AO3

They started off cuddling as a necessity in chilly tents and cramped car rides, but it eventually became something much, much more. Sam finds that there isn't a safer place in the world, no where else he'd rather be, than when he's wrapped up in his best friend's strong, caring arms. And Danny, he just can't get enough of the feeling of Sam's silky smooth skin spread out underneath his hands. A chronicle of Samuel Kiszka and Daniel Wagner's budding love.

*** Silk and Satin, Leather and Lace - tumblr - AO3

Sam has a surprise for Danny. A lacy, kinky one

*** No, Sam! - tumblr - AO3

Sam and Danny keep getting interrupted.

*** Keys To My Heart - tumblr - AO3

Danny just wants to try out Sam's new car, but the evil genius has some stipulations (like a handjob)

*** Blood Brothers - tumblr - AO3

"He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward."

*** These Dreams - tumblr - AO3

"You're telling me that we've known each other, been near inseparable, since seventh grade, and you've never once thought about it? At all? You've had to have thought about giving guys a try at least once, everyone questions their sexuality."

Sammy gave him a shit eating grin. He scooted even closer to Danny, so that their knees touched and their noses weren't more than half a foot apart. Danny stopped laughing.

* The Sweetness of Love’s Bliss - tumblr - AO3

Sweetness hot meets sweetness cold, light and airy swirls around dark and heavy for the perfect blend.

Don’t Go Away Mad (Please Actually Talk To Me About the Issue) - tumblr - AO3

They'd slept together so many times - but this was different. It would have been different starting last night, if a misunderstanding hadn't made Danny kick himself to the couch... but that didn't matter now.

* New Places, Friendly Faces - tumblr p1, p2, p3 - AO3

Danny was nervous; he had been building up the courage for weeks to arrange a date, and now.... He wasn't quite sure what to think of the situation he found himself in. The night certainly wasn't going as he had expected it to - and his emotions had never ridden a roller coaster this fast. Hell, the beautiful angel holding his hand wasn't even the one he had arranged to meet 2 hours ago.

*** High Sex is the Best (Just Don’t Fall Asleep) - linked under twins

Sam figures out that he's attracted to his best friend after catching Danny jerking off in the shower. Then they get high. (BTW this story focuses on Danny and Sam, though Jake and Josh are definitely in there)

*** The Lady and Her Knights - p1 - p2 - AO3

You are seriously the luckiest girl in the world: Daniel Wagner is your boyfriend! And, yet, you can't push away the fantasy of having more. Specifically, Sam - you want his best friend, too. (THREESOME SMUT WITH HEAVY SAM/DANNY)

*** Black Panties and An Angel’s Face (continuation of ‘Silk and Satin...’) - tumblr - AO3

Sam had said that he would wear whatever Danny bought him.... would he, really? Fuck, if not them this was about to he a sucky Christmas for the both of them.

*** Grindr - AO3

Sam gaped at him dumbly; mouth open wide, eyebrows raised, hands clinging tightly to his shoulders. Danny grinned, predatory and full of satisfaction, and thrust harder.

TWINS

* Freezeframe (teasing, talking mythology, and kissing while on a quiet evening hike) - tumblr - AO3

Then I Recognized Me (comparing appearances, short and fluffy, could be gen or slash) - tumblr - AO3

* High Sex is the Best (Just Don’t Fall Asleep) (Sanny is the main pairing but the twins are shacking up in the background) - tumblr - AO3

*** These Dreams (hinted at the very end) - linked under Sanny

DRABBLES

* GVF Halloween Drabbles (6 random Halloween themed drabbles, some slashy) - tumblr - AO3

WHOLE BAND

Four Cute Little Piggies In a Blanket (foursome smut ~ yes in that way) - AO3

Metallica

Eyes of Juniper (Lars pisses off an ancient goddess and gets himself and Kirk turned into girls, eventuallly Jlars; on hiatus) - AO3

Guns N’ Roses

STEVEN ADLER X DUFF MCKAGAN

A New Addition To The Family (Stevie and Duff go adopt a dog, super fluffy and humorous) - AO3

DUZZY (Duff Mckagan x Izzy Stradlin)

*** Black Dog (Izzy blows Duff in the studio) - AO3

Baby, Let’s Get Wet (friends with benefits, Duff wants to fuck in the shower; half completed so sorry) - AO3

Young Love In The Woods (middle school AU, Izzy and Duff reminisce on how they met) - AO3

Lazy Days (a short and fluffy lazy morning in bed) - AO3

*** Curiosity Killed The Cat, But Satisfaction Brought It Back (humorous smut, Izzy comes up with a plan to seduce Duff; on hiatus in the middle of the smut woops) - AO3

SLAXL (Slash x Axl Rose)

*** Curiosity Killed The Cat, But Satisfaction Brought It Back (background pairing) - AO3

Led Zeppelin

My Love, My Darling (ultra fluffy winter-themed fluff) - tumblr - AO3

The Magicians (TV)

Treasure (slow burn, binding spell gone wrong) - AO3

Other Fandoms I Could Write For

Merlin (BBC)

Queen

Elementary (tv show)

Percy Jackson Series (the first 12 books)

How To Train Your Dragon

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Catch-22 (book)

Hey Folks! A few reminders I would love for y'all to read

• I WILL write straight romance/sex or reader inserts, you just have to ask for it! I know that my library is almost all gay slash, that's just because that's all that has been asked of me

• I love feedback! Give my stories an out of ten rating, constructive criticism, a video of you screaming, I don't care - But any reactions to my work are greatly cherished and much encouraged. It helps me gauge what y'all are into and improve writing

• My disclaimer, as copy-pasted from Rockfic: I don't own any of these people, places, or ideas (except the ones that I do). Any coincidences are just that. If you have a problem with my subject matter (other than a factual correction - you can comment that and I'll fix it) message me privately and I may or may not respond.

A/N: If any of these links aren’t working, please let me know so I can fix them! Thank you.

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mikenips · 4 years

Text

Pinheads

“What the fuck are you doing back here? You aren’t even working tonight.” One of the other managers at Bowlero, the new bowling alley and venue, says to me.

“I’m playin’ tonight.” We all wish we had known the Stools were doin’ a live album recording down at OLL tonight before we booked it though. Rae said Chuck told her before I picked her up that they don’t play till midnight. So the goal is to rush the sets so we can get there in time for their set.

“That explains the war paint on the eyes.” Chip, the mechanic that once got fired as a carny, says as he spits dip into a coffee cup. “Ya know ya got some jeans with those holes though Mike?” Damn. That’s pretty clever.

My mom’s side of the family is down at lane one. And my dad’s side is hangin’ in the lounge. Even my uncle from New Mexico is in town for the holidays. Jordan is setting up the kit. Sound checkin’ the violin. Drew walks into the storage room that doubles as a green room for gigs. Me and Greg the bartender are hittin’ a vaporizer before I get on stage. We play first. “You see how Drew walked in here man? He walked up like he owns this bitch!”

And the scene really does own this bitch. I’m the bar manager at twenty one. Drew just started training to bartend. Dom works the front desk here and there. Everyone else askin’ if we can pull some strings to get them hired or booked. Just waitin’ on Sugar Tradition. Gotta make sure they don’t get carded. The kids are still in high school. And we’re eighteen up. Like the owners would really care though. They got history too. One of ‘em owning the Garden Bowl. The other is one of the top lawyers in Oakland County. Used to own the Falcon Club in Hamtramck in the nineties. Actually even was Johnny’s lawyer to get Outer Limits their liquor license.

We open with “Haunted House.” I’m fuckin’ baked. And already forgettin’ the lyrics. That shot of jezy Greg fed me probably didn’t help. Nobody is here yet besides my family. A few members of the Hand. And some Royal Oakies waitin’ on lanes that don’t understand what the fuck is happening. We’re botchin’ even our classics. At least the Oakies are gettin’ a real weird show.

Yelp into a drone cover of “Real Cool Time” as Jordan saws away at his violin behind me. Antonio rollin’ across the stage in front of me. Glad they got in alright.

Fuck it. We got a show to get to tonight. “This is gonna be our last one.” A piece of glitter falls into the corner of my eye. “It’s about when it’s five am. You’re blacked out. Shirtless. Pissin’ on the side of a 7-11. Smokin’ a spliff. Shotgunnin’ a tall boi. If you could all raise your drinks.” Rip through “Miller High Life” before boltin’ for a cig while Sugar Tradition sets up.

“Dude!” Jordan says to me as we load some gear into the car. “I think that was the worst set we ever played.”

Dee comes up behind us. “What are you talkin’ about? That’s the best part about Just Guys Being Dudes. There’s no bad sets. Every set is it’s own experience. I really dug it. The owner was behind me and Rae vibin’ too.”

Take a drag. “Thanks Dee. That means a lot to me.”

Walk back inside. Didn’t even realize how many people had showed up. Sean’s dad, my old high school film teacher, is here. Still doesn’t know he showed my dick at the student film show at the end of the year. Even fuckin’ Ian Ruhala showed his bitch ass. There’s no way that was coincidental. Not when his girlfriend’s sister is performing with Zilched at the Stools show. Joey’s gonna lose his shit when he gets here from the wedding.

“That was sick Michael!” My coworker Reagan says to me. “Wanna celebrate by doin’ a shot of Jager with me? You don’t even gotta give me a drink ticket.” I’m about to be trashed tonight. What am I talkin’ about? I already am.

“Why not? I’m gonna need seven shots of jezy too though.”

“Wakin’ up I got a nothin’ to do!” Sugar T kicks into one of their many rippers.

Cy, my GM, walks over to me. “These guys are really good.” I can barely make out her words over Kevin’s spastic style of jazz drumming. “They’re like a psychedelic Mudhoney.”

“Yeah. They’re also only seventeen too. Don’t tell the managers though I booked some minors.”

She laughs. “Nobody should be that good at that young of an age. Do they have a CD?”

“Nah. We put out their debut album on the cassette label I’m helping run though.”

“What the fuck are you kids doing making cassettes again?”

“Cause they’re fuckin’ sick! You wanna hear this fuzz on something just as fuzzy. We don’t wanna clean this noise up!”

Walk back to center stage. Jake is in the corner with Evan. Owen layin’ on the floor in front of the couch. Crossed the border for this night. On the couch next to Rae is Joey Molloy goin’ hard to Sugar Tradition’s set. Gotta love Joey. Nobody goes as hard at a show as good ol’ Joey Molloy. Bleached tufts of hair whippin’ through the air the same way their brain whips back and forth in the skull. Everyone takes the Polish, purple nectar. Jeżynówka. A Hamtramck staple. A little piece of home all the way out here.

Joey walks in, still in his suit, and helps Drew wheel three cabs into the crammed lounge as I meet Antonio at the merch table. They spent over a mill on this remodel. And the Hand is about to shatter all the windows here when they hit their first note. This will be the first and last time they let a stoner metal band in here. TJ stoned as fuck on the floor testin’ out the Juno. Sean, equally as baked, clicks open the briefcase synth he made.

“Yoo Antonio. Whenever you guys are ready I’ll take you to the office so the manager can cut you a check. You just gotta fill out some tax forms.”

“Shit… This is like a legit gig then?”

We weave through the overfilled lounge. Drunks and stoners attempt to file towards the stage. BO and fuzz forcin’ the yuppies to wait for their lanes elsewhere. Tonight, this bitch is ours.

Paperclips and loose change vibrate their way off the desk in the office as the Hand strikes their first drone. “Wait… Kev,” Antonio spins in the desk chair. “What’s my social security number?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“You guys don’t know your social security numbers? How?”

“Dude. We’re in high school. We’ve never had to use ‘em before.”

“Honestly,” my coworker cuts in. “We don’t really need the W-9. If you take it with you and bring it back in a couple days it’s probably fine. But I really don’t give a shit if you do.”

Head back to the bar. All the freaks headbang in unison to Joey’s screams before Drew rips into a solo. Greg hands over two shots before I even flag him down. “I knew Drew was gonna shred because he never talks about his band. The quiet ones always shred. Good job putting this together Mike. Not a huge drinking crowd. But I’ll take a chill night. Gettin’ stoned to some chuggin’ bands whenever it comes.”

Or at least I think that’s what he said. I can’t hear over the riff. Hail the fuckin’ riff! Wrappin’ it just before midnight. Nobody says goodbye to each other before we all dip. It’s every man for himself. Drag racin’ down I-75 to get to OLL. Somewhere in the night Caveman Woodman is yellin’ about the Stools. Tellin’ folks to fuck off if they think rock n’ roll is dead.

Walk into Outer Limits greeted by the familiar unbearable humidity of a crowd of familiar faces. Not a single face you don’t recognize. Greeted with a free Stroh’s and shot of Hornito’s courtesy of Johnny. Kid Infinity on the stoop of the stage. Documenting the entire night on camera. 208. The Long Stairs. The rest of the Waterheads. Everyone from the Bowlero show there too. Sweat gluing bodies together as flesh meets flesh. “This one’s about a spooky dream Will had!” KQ shouts into the mic as Chuck uses his already soaked shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead. As Will’s screeching guitar bends, cuing “Black Fly Stew.” Two step tune off their latest seven inch from Third Man Records. Jack White may be a prick. But he sure puts out some good ass music.

This time I’m not gonna concuss myself on Joey Molloy’s eye socket. They speed and slop their way through their discography. Dig into some tracks Will claims are older than some of us. Kirk recording every second through the soundboard to be put out on Chuck’s cassette label Painter’s Tapes. “How does two more sound?” KQ asks after finishing up a version of “Q-Nails” that’s half the length of the studio version. But still has all the original notes. Bodies make their way off the concrete ground to their feet. Stomachs cramp from downin’ Stroh’s. Lungs attempt to catch their breath. Jake yells back to ‘em “Eat shit Mike Duggan!” We don’t need no curfew. Unplug us and we’ll scream louder.

Mikey of the Waterheads discusses Sigmund Freud on the patio while we all pass joints to each other. Never give those lungs a break. Kyle of 208 passes out Remove Records t-shirts. Tells us none of us need to pay for ‘em. But we all force money into his hands. “This is what the scene is about man.” My words come out half coherent.

“Exactly! That’s why I’m so glad me and Shelby came here from Florida. This is what music should be about! Community. Doing it for each other. Fuckin’ being there! Cause without each other, none of what’s goin’ on is possible. We’re like one big, happy, chaotic family!”

Jake punches my shoulder at the bar. Radiating the energy of the Bananas in Pajamas. A loose and excitable toddler ready to play. We each get a shot of jezy. “You here anything yet about HMF Nips?”

“Nah. I saw they ‘leaked’ some of the lineup. But it was all like Hala. Legume. Who Boy. The indie bands ya know.”

“See. And that’s what’s fucked man! They don’t fuckin’ get it like we do. We’re out here every fuckin’ night playin’ these joints. We’re all at every show for each other. They make one appearance a month. Half the time not even in Hamtramck. They don’t support each other. They’re in it for the clout! And fuckin’ Who Boy gets picked before any of us?! That’s fucked up man.”

“It is dude. But don’t worry so much about it. I’m sure it’ll all pan out for us. Cause we get it. And they don’t. You wanna come over to my place after? Make some pancakes or some shit?”

“Oh heeeellll yeah! Pancakes at Belmont. I’ll rally the troops. We gettin’ trashed tonight!”

As if we aren’t already. Rip through a fifty pack of whip-its in twenty minutes. Sittin’ around eatin’ pancakes at three in the morning. Listenin’ to the 13th Floor Elevators as Joey tries persuadin’ everyone into watchin’ Pirates of the Caribbean. “Dead Man’s Aaaaasssss…” his whipped voice whispers to every single one of us individually.

Jake does his first popper as if he’s huffed it before. Panicking in the barstool in my living room. “I’m sweaty. My head hurts. And my face is hot, man. My face is hot!” Before locking himself in the bathroom with a sealed fifth of tequila. We continue to chainsmoke in the house I rent. No mention of not smokin’ in my lease. Dunkin’ chocolate chip pancakes in a bowl of syrup. He re-emerges from the bathroom. Quarter of the bottle now inside him. Or possibly in my toilet. “Rae. You gotta finish this. I can’t do it.”

Owen spits up on Giovanna while tryin’ to rush to the bathroom. Attempts to wipe the bile off her knee before returning to the cool tile floor around the toilet to sleep for the night. Jake arguing with me and Rae about ordering him an Uber home. “You’d fuckin’ love it if I crashed on your futon Nips. You’d fuckin’ love ordering me an Uber home wouldn’t you Rae?”

“Jake dude. I don’t know what you want from me man. Your car is at Evan’s anyways.”

“I just wanna shit on my toilet!”

So eventually he consents. Tells Rae he’ll Venmo me the ten bucks she spent on him cause he’s “Venmoed Michael Nipples before.” Even though I’ve never had one. Yells back to us with the passenger door open “what’s its name?” As he struggles to crawl into the whip.

And as Rae and I go to sleep. My phone buzzes with three texts from the drunk Toehead. “Uh oh…”

“Help…”

“We listenin’ to Dough Boyz!”

Fuckin’ idiot. Pinhead. That’s what we all are though. Or at least what we pretend to be.

#bowlero #hail the riff #just guys being dudes #vague glimpses of beauty #outer limits lounge #the stools #the hand 420 #sugar tradition #remove records #painters tapes #grown up fucked up #detroit garage rock #detroit diy #a vibe

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clericbyers · 5 years

Text

learning to heal (part 4)

excerpt: Mike wouldn’t let his shitty mood affect the happy air surrounding the Party. He wouldn’t be the one to make everyone upset because he had to spazz out like in the last month of freshman year when he panicked in the middle of a celebratory dinner because the waitress kept giving him looks like she knew his darkest secrets. Like she knew he liked boys and found one of his teammates cute enough to be a little flustered about it. Like she knew he and his friends were monster hunters and got 30 people killed during the summer of ‘85.

length: 4.5K words

POV: Mike Wheeler

Read on AO3

Master Post

tag list: @vaugency , @lifeinvirtualreality , @princestanley , @lgbtqbyers , @smhbyler , @ticomat , @lightswriting , @lithhiums , @lullabyers , @byers-remorse, @cstlebyrs, @lomlbyers ♡

——————————————

“You took your time getting here!”

Mike rolled his eyes as he, Will, El, and Lucas skidded to a stop by the driveway to Dustin’s house. He was sitting on the curb with his bike and angrily glared at the late quartet. Lucas gave Mike and Will the stink eye as he bounded off his bike to stand by Dustin.

“You can blame Will and Mike; they took their sweet time getting to my place as if I don’t live a few houses away.”

Will shrugged and started biking in small circles in the driveway. El was gripping onto his waist and leaning her head on his back as he went by. “Sorry we’re late, Dustin. Mike and I went to bed later than expected and got kinda distracted when we woke up.”

“Distracted by what?” Lucas snorted. “Dust mites? The way sun filters through Mike’s shitty drapes? The feeling of blankets on your skin?”

Mike and Will exchanged a look, a look that screamed of guiltiness, and Dustin groaned. “Does it really matter what they were doing? We need to get Max and leave before the diner gets too full and starts making Mike antsy.”

Will halted his bike near Mike and he watched El’s grip on Will tighten more. “Antsy?”

“Yeah. Crowds sometimes get to me, but it’s not a big deal.” Mike shrugged and turned toward Lucas and Dustin, who raised suspicion-arched eyebrows at his words. “What? It’s really not a big deal.”

“You threw up in the back of Steve’s car just thinking about the crowd during your first relay race. Oh also, we tried to go to the movies to watch The Voyage Home last month and you spent half the movie in the bathroom doing breathing exercises.”

Lucas started laughing. “Oh my god, I still remember Mike’s face when he came back and saw the humpback whales and Spock’s headband and got so confused.”

“Hey! Look, the humpback whales part made no sense.”

“I told you already, Mike,” groaned Dustin, “Spock and Kirk needed to find the whales that sang at the same frequency as the probe since humpbacks are extinct in the future.”

“It’s still stupid! Same with Spock saying ‘the hell’ every five minutes. I didn’t miss much of anything being in the bathroom.”

“Well, I like The Voyage Home . It was a good conclusion to the trilogy.”

Mike turned on Will with an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me, Byers.”

“Are you really gonna stand here and let Will get away with acting like TMP doesn’t exist?”

“Yes, Lucas, I am, because that movie sucked ass.”

“This is why I’m a Star Wars nerd!” cried out Dustin as he stood up. “We can all at least agree that The Empire Strikes Back is the best of the three.”

Silence took to the air. Mike spoke up first. “Actually...”

“Finish that sentence, Mike, and you won’t have a tongue to continue it.”

El giggled from behind Will and Mike turned to face her out of instinct. She noticed his gaze but didn’t make eye contact and continued to stare ahead. Something in Mike broke a little seeing El unwilling to even just give him a smile. He knew he had no right to be upset over how she took the breakup even if it has been months already, he knew he broke her heart this past summer and he too was still pained by the ordeal, but he had hoped at least that maybe when they saw each other face to face it would be a happier occasion.

Will reached out to squeeze Mike’s arm and then turned back to Dustin and Lucas. “Let’s go get Max, then. She can give us a tie breaker opinion if we need it.”

Max was not enthusiastic about being asked to choose which Star Wars movie she thought was the best and mostly kept saying Return of the Jedi just to annoy Lucas. Will biked next to Mike when El transferred to Max and rode with her toward Main Street. Mike kept sending his boyfriend glances during the ride and he was always a little flustered when they happened to make eye contact and Will’s lips lifted into a small shy smile. There was something refreshing in being able to turn to his side and find such comfort as he did in Will as a best friend and as his significant other.

Mike couldn’t wait to tell the Party about how much he loved Will, about how lucky he was to fall for someone as kind and caring as the other boy. Even better, he was so extremely lucky that Will loved him back. It was nice to have this private happiness for himself and Will to share in by themselves—well, his mom and Will’s mom knew but they only ever exchanged knowing smiles whenever they caught Will and Mike standing a little closer than usual and trying to sneak cheek kisses when they passed each other by—but Mike was beyond ready to tell his friends.

Lunch was normal as usual: rowdy, loud, and uplifting as hanging out with friends usually went. Sometimes they were all so happy and normal that Mike could forget about the dark thoughts ruminating in the back of his mind, the memories that threatened to consume him when he closed his eyes to darkness. He could forget that no one knew what he hadn’t done to save people, no one knew that the monster built from the bodies and blood of their neighbors that terrorized Starcourt was a product of negligence.

It was weird how survivor's guilt worked. Mike never thought he’d really be faced with the troubling issue but he couldn’t help feeling like if they had done more, if he had focused more on what Will was facing, on what Dustin had found with Cerebo, maybe they could have saved more people. Maybe then the young couple from five houses down wouldn’t have been absorbed into a flesh monster and have their autonomy ripped from them as they melted into the single-focused mind of the Mind Flayer. Maybe then El wouldn’t be powerless, fatherless, Mikeless—not that he was the only person El lost but their closeness and desire to be together was a huge part of both their lives and losing that affected both of them.

Mike sighed to himself and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. Will, who was sat across from him, nudged Mike’s foot with his own and sent him a concerned look. Mike smiled back—he was fine, just thinking too hard—and nudged Will’s foot in turn. Will nudged twice, Mike nudged twice, and then they kept playing footsie under the table until Max called them out for shaking the table. Dustin then tried to have a soda chugging contest with Lucas and won with Max’s encouragement, which made Lucas playfully salty and he brooded for a good minute and talked only to El, who humored him lightly.

Will ordered a milkshake to share with Mike while the others chatted excitedly between themselves about the New Year’s celebration and fireworks that would be happening where the fair was usually held. Mike would much prefer to stay indoors watching Dick Clark count the ball drop, but he knew social interaction and connection with his friends was what he needed most. He had already spent so much of his freshman year avoiding people whenever possible; the only reason why his friends knew about his therapy sessions and medication was because they ran into him the day after he missed school and pestered him for details. Mike couldn’t even give a good reason as to why he didn’t tell Will and El, too, why he left them in the dark despite the fact they were the most important people in his life.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut and flexed his hands on the table. Now was not the time for this. He wouldn’t let his shitty mood affect the happy air surrounding the Party. He wouldn’t be the one to make everyone upset because he had to spazz out like in the last month of freshman year when he panicked in the middle of a celebratory dinner because the waitress kept giving him looks like she knew his darkest secrets. Like she knew he liked boys and found one of his teammates cute enough to be a little flustered about it. Like she knew he and his friends were monster hunters and got 30 people killed during the summer of ‘85.

“Mike,” Will called out and the soft tone brought Mike back to the table and the conversation. The vanilla milkshake stood between them untouched and he frowned. He didn’t remember hearing the waiter stop by at all. Was he that entrenched in his thoughts to block out all other senses and trap himself in his head?

“You good?” Lucas asked from Mike’s other side, chewing on a fry as nonchalantly as possible.

Mike nodded. “I’m good. Just distracted.”

“We were just talking about X-Men, it’s no biggie,” added Dustin. “Max got some comics and has been reading a few to El so we wanted to discuss some fave runs.”

Mike’s brain was blanking on him. He couldn’t even think of anything concerning X-Men besides Professor X and Cyclops. He shrugged and turned to the milkshake to occupy his mouth so he didn’t have to actually offer an opinion. He could feel Will’s eyes on him and he looked up while slurping at the shake and made eye contact. Will rolled his eyes but his cheeks were flushed and the sight made Mike smile a little. He nudged Will under the table and mouthed I love you as best he could while blocking the side of his mouth from Lucas next to him.

Will’s smile grew more and he tried to hide it behind his straw but he fell out into giggles and caught everyone else’s attention. Dustin rolled his eyes and stage whispered to El beside him, “They’re back at it again, using that secret best-friends-since-we-were-five telepathy.”

Mike stuck his tongue out at his friend after a small chuckle. “You’re just jealous that all it takes is one glance from me for Will to lose his cool.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy to break.” Will retorted with a small kick under the table. Mike pretended it hurt more than it actually did and moaned as he dramatically grabbed at his ankle.

“My ankles are and I kinda need them for track!”

Will sputtered and then fell out laughing again. Lucas was cackling into his fries and Max was helping him by patting his back when he started to choke from laughing so hard. El was watching Mike, he could feel her eyes on him, and he chanced a glance with a small smile he hoped didn’t look like a grimace.

El maintained eye contact for about two seconds before she blinked and reached over to steal a few of Max’s fries. Mike considered it a success and turned back to finish his milkshake with Will. On the ride back, Mike and Lucas rode side-by-side in the back while Will and Dustin rode together up front and El and Max rode between the two pairs of bikers. Lucas was silent for a while before he spoke up with a huff.

“So, you and Will finally pulled your heads out your asses and hooked up.”

Mike nearly biked into a tree from the shock of the sudden statement. He coughed heavily and then gave his friend a glance. “What makes you say that?”

“You have a very expressive face,” the other boy chuckled to himself. “It’s how I knew you weren’t doing too hot in a really bad way even before you went to the doctor.”

Mike bit his bottom lip. “I know you don’t want me saying thanks or whatever but I really am glad you stuck with me through that.”

“What else would I do? You’re my friend and friends don’t ditch each other when in need.” Lucas smiled. “We’ve been friends far too long; I don’t care if you’re a jock track star now, to me you’re still goofy ass nerd Mike Wheeler with the fattest crush on his equally lovesick best friend.”

Mike laughed and felt a little warmth in his chest from the comment. Lucas was always blunt and direct, which is probably why he worked so well with Max, who was equally as blunt and direct. Lucas was just as loyal as anyone else in the Party and he and Mike has been friends the longest only after Mike and Will. Mike loved him so deeply and trusted him just as much.

“Was it that obvious?”

Lucas cackled. “Are you seriously asking that question? Dude, I thought you were gonna die when Will announced he was moving. And the way you spent practically all the rest of that summer at his side? Mike, you may be oblivious but Dustin and I have eyes and we use ‘em.”

“Dustin knows, too?”

“I don’t think he knows you two are together now but yeah, he knows you like Will.” Lucas shrugged. “It was kinda just a part of the group dynamic, you know? You two liking each other and always dancing around it as if we couldn’t tell, as if you each didn’t know yourselves.” The boy huffed with a smirk. “Dustin and I used to joke about what excuse you two would pull out of a hat for Will to stay over.”

“There were never any excuses!”

Lucas laughed again. “I know but it was fun to guess. Point is, hell yeah we know. I love El and really wanted you two to work things out because you each make each other happy and you deserve that. We all do.” Mike nodded solemnly. “Still, there was always a part of me that hoped that maybe, just maybe, you and Will could find happiness together like before the Demogorgon.”

“Wow.” Mike slowed his bike as they rolled down a hill. “You know, speaking of the Demogorgon, I think I’m gonna tell my mom about everything that happened.”

Lucas gaped. “You’re what ? I thought you were gonna keep that locked up forever.”

“Yeah, but…” Mike glared at the ground. “She helped me and Will get together. She wants me to be happy and the only way that’s gonna happen is if she knows why I’m not.”

“Well, at least you’re admitting it now.”

“That I’m dating Will or that I’m depressed?”

“Both but I meant your depression.” Lucas sighed. “I know you don’t like talking about it and you like pretending that life doesn’t terrify you, but it’s okay to speak up with us. Me, Dustin, and Max. We want you to feel better, too. Don’t forget that.”

Mike’s voice was a low whisper when he replied. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, man,” groaned Lucas as he scuffed his tire against the curb, “Friends don’t need apologies or whatever for being friends.”

“I know, but—,”

“Shut up, Mike, and let it go, alright?” The boy sent Mike a warm smile. “You love to talk but right now just, I don’t know, listen and find comfort in that, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I said shut up.”

Mike rolled his eyes and steered his bike toward Lucas, who yelped and sped up his pace to avoid collision. Mike laughed and watched Lucas catch up to Dustin and Will loudly exclaiming how Mike was trying to run him into the snow. The rest of the ride to the Wheeler’s was spent in silence but Mike could feel the anxiety bubbling inside as he thought about what he would tell his mom. Will parked his bike beside him when they arrived, gently gripping his arm while everyone also attempted to suspend the inevitable split up caused by arrival.

“Good luck,” Lucas muttered when he hopped off his bike to give Mike a hug. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Of course, dude.” Mike chuckled and hugged his friend back. “See you tomorrow.”

El hopped off Max’s bike and made her way to Mike and Will with a small hum. Max waved goodbye and the three watched their friends bike away as the chill of winter sank into their bones. Will shivered and Mike grabbed his hand to lead him inside, turning to hold out a hand for El as well. She blinked twice and frowned but took his hand, too, gently twining their fingers in a promise that the anger and heartbreak wouldn’t keep them from being friends. Not for long at least.

With his closest friends’ hands in his own, Mike felt courage seep into his soul and feed him the strength he needed to tell his mom the truth behind his misery.

“Mom,” he called out shakily, Will’s grip tightening with much-needed comfort.

His mom was upstairs but she came down at the sound of Mike’s voice and smiled warmly as she saw him holding hands with Will and El. “Mike,” she started happily, “I’m assuming the lunch meet went well.”

“Really well,” Mike shuffled on his feet and sent El a glance. “I, uh, I actually need to tell you something really important. And you can’t tell anyone else.”

She raised her eyebrows and tentatively sat down on the couch. “You know I won’t tell anyone about...about you liking boys. I’ll love you still, I do love you still.

Mike coughed and looked upstairs in hopes that his dad wasn’t eavesdropping. “No, I mean, I do but that’s not this conversation.”

And what a weird thing to confess about so easily. Mike liked boys. Only boys. And he confirmed it so easily like any other ‘yes or no’ question. Something in his gut churned, a mixture of relief that his mom truly didn’t care and loved him still, and fright that he confirmed aloud that his attraction to boys and boys only was real.

“What’s going on, Mike?”

The boy turned to Will and then sent his mom an apologetic glance. “When Will disappeared in ‘83, he didn’t just disappear. He was kidnapped by a monster from another dimension that got to him through a gate El opened with her mind.”

Mike’s mom blinked twice and then started laughing though she tried to hide it with a hand to her mouth. “Is that the story you kids told yourselves to deal with the fact he was missing?”

“No, Mrs. Wheeler, it’s real.” Will lifted up his shirt just enough for the burn scar to be visible. It made Mike sick to think about it, think about how they had to burn the Mind Flayer out of Will. “This scar isn’t from the stove. The monster possessed me in ‘84 and my mom and Mike and Hopper helped excise it from me. El closed the gate, too.”

“And then in ‘85,” Mike swallowed the lump in his throat, “the monster came back and...it melted our neighbors into a machine made of human flesh, blood, and bone. The gate was reopened and Hopper died trying to close it.”

“I was the one who found Will,” El spoke up hesitantly. “I found him in my mind. I can find anyone in my mind.”

Mike sent her a smile. “El has really cool powers actually; she can flip cars and levitate objects and I actually hid her in the basement during ‘83 while Will was missing.” Karen’s jaw dropped. “I’m still amazed you didn’t notice.”

“Can she,” Karen turned to El with curiosity. “Can she demonstrate?”

El shifted uncomfortably and Will spoke up. “Her powers are gone now thanks to the monster but it’s real. It’s all real.”

Karen blinked multiple times, eyes darting between the three kids with disbelief written in her eyes. She settled her gaze on Mike and crumpled. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Mike was stuck between surprise that she accepted everything so easily and guilt that he kept this to himself for so long. “I legally couldn’t; the US government is involved in all of this,” he waved between himself, Will, and El, “but you deserve to know why...why I needed therapy. Why I can’t sleep at night, how me and El met in the first place, why I fell apart when the Byers left. Why I’m so fucked up.”

Will’s grip on his hand tightened just enough and he presses himself closer to Mike’s side as a comforting force against his rapidly declining thoughts. Karen stood up and made her way to Mike with tears pooling in her emotional eyes. He was taller than her, head bowed down as he fought his own tears back— pathetic; be a leader, Michael —but he managed to make eye contact with her regardless.

“You are dealing with so much, my dear,” she started quietly. “I’m sorry you felt you had to carry the burden yourself.”

“Dustin and Lucas and Max know. Nancy, too.” Mike rubbed at the back of his neck. “The monster got Barb back then.”

Karen gasped with a hand to her mouth. “Oh, poor girl.” The woman closed her eyes to keep her tears back and then opened them with a shaky smile drawn on her painted lips. “I’m so glad you finally told me.”

Mike shrugged but he could feel happiness threatening to blossom in his chest. “I, uh, well, having Will and El back reminded me that I don’t have anyone else in the house who knows . Nancy does yeah but she doesn’t like to talk about it. And neither do I really but she’s my sister and we don’t talk about a lot of things.”

“You two are close.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that I don’t even want to be on the track team but she looks so happy seeing me on the field; I can’t take that away from her!” Mike clenched his fists angrily as the words spilled from his mouth. “She doesn’t know about me and Will or that I’m—,” the word wouldn’t come out but Mike knew they all knew what he wanted to say. “She doesn’t know a lot of things. But you do. Everything but the secret about the Upside Down. And I can’t keep this up! This lie about who I am, what I’ve seen, what I’ve done .”

Karen rushed to take Mike in her arms and he fell into her embrace just as quickly. Mike felt Will and El release his hands so he could wrap his arms around his mom and hug her tightly. She was sniffling a little, gently rubbing his back and it made Mike feel like a kid again but in a good way. It made him feel like he was 6 or 7, being soothed after falling off his bike in the driveway and scratching his knee. It made him feel like what he just relayed to his mom could easily be bandaged over like that scrape.

“Mike, I love you.” was all she said and it was all Mike wanted to hear, all he needed to hear. “I just want you to be happy . You can quit track, you can join theater, you can do whatever you want, I don’t care.” She took his face in her hands and fixed him with a steady glare. Mike couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s learning to be yourself. Let yourself be who you are, not who everyone wants you to be.”

Mike frowned. “Is this why you and Dad are thinking about getting a divorce?”

Karen froze and bowed her head. “Yes. I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to know.”

“I can handle it. He barely cared about me anyway.” Mike huffed and reached up to squeeze his mom’s hand. “I love you, Mom, yeah? We’ll both be happy.”

Karen grinned and Mike watched her turn to Will and El with equally wide smiles. El was the first to initiate the hug, brown pigtails whipping around with the intensity of the action. Will turned to wrap his arms around Mike from behind and pressed his face into his back with a hum. Mike laid his hands over Will’s and leaned into the touch with a smile. The conversation went a lot easier than Mike thought it would and the weight off his shoulders had him a little weak in the knees.

He was so lucky, oh so lucky , to have the people in his life that he did.

And when New Year’s Eve came the next day, Mike and Will told their friends about their new relationship just as they planned. Dustin pulled the two into one armed hugs, Lucas shared a knowing look with Mike, Max gave Will a high five for it all, and El...she smiled and nodded with approval and even though she already knew thanks to the conversation with his mom the day before, it was great to have her support confirmed.

“10 seconds until the new year,” started Lucas as he rocked Max in his arms.

“8 now!” Dustin shouted as he took El into his own arms for a tight hug. She laughed and patted his cheeks with a wide grin.

“5 seconds,” whispered Will into Mike’s ear as he held him close to his chest. The Party was toward the back of the crowd, hidden from the gazes of Hawkins as all eyes took to the sky in preparation for the fireworks show.

“3.” A warm kiss to the shell of Mike’s ear.

“2.” A lingering kiss to the nape of his neck.

“1.” A soft breath against his cheek.

Mike twisted and grabbed his boyfriend’s face as the crowd cheered Happy New Year and the fireworks lit up the sky. He looked into green eyes, traced the reflection of pyrotechnics in those sparkling orbs, and leaned in for their first kiss of 1987. Will smiled into it, pulled Mike closer, and ignored the whoops and cheers of their friends surrounding them.

“I love you,” Mike murmured when he pulled away, then turned to the rest of his friends. “I love you all, man. You’re the best friends a guy could ask for.”

“And we love you, too, Mike.” Dustin tagged on with a grin. “Our baby leader.”

Mike rolled his eyes and punched the other boy in the arm with a chuckle. El watched him carefully and then reached out a hand for Mike’s own. He passed it along, worry in his chest as her brown eyes filled with emotion he couldn’t understand. “I love you,” she said and it was different. It was different than the last time, not as desperate, not as needy. It was resignation and acceptance in three words, understanding and moving on in one: love .

“I love you, too,” he breathed out and then pulled the younger girl into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest and clung onto his shirt with shaking fists. “Thank you.”

El laughed. “Next time, don’t hide yourself from me. Or Will. Or yourself.”

A chill ran down his spine but he shook it off and straightened the messy hair on her head. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can ask for.”

#byler #byeler #lth #learning to heal #lth fic #lth part 4 #this is the last part of the first act kinda #anyway srsly thank u all for sticking w this!!

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windhamsrotunda · 4 years

Text

BRODIE LEE X SYLVIA STEELE

Part 2: Aesthetics: Stay Home Quarantine style tagging the usuals - @demonqueen29 @xbreezymeadowsx @sithstatlander @xwicker-manx @the-ville-idiot @theworldofotps @biforrollynch @mondaynightmcintyre @rosyredapples 💖

Genre: Fluffy and Some Romance

{Sylvia's POV}

Brodie and I finally got to his place, we skipped the movies.

I heard the car door open, hands lifting me up. It was Brodie. He was wearing a red bandana for a mask, Toronto Maple Leafs snapback, a tank top, black basketball shorts and Vans.

"Rise and shine," he began to say, carrying me into the house and shutting the door behind him.

"Its still night time.." I groggily said, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it anyways?"

"11pm." He checks his phone, and set me down.

I yawned. It was extremely dark in the house; I could barely see myself and where I was going.

"Brodie" I whined, feeling around so that I could guide myself.

"Yes, Sylvia?" I heard his tone in the dark.

Suddenly, I had a phone flashlight shone on me.

"Oh there you are, tee hee." I giggled at him.

"You're silly..." He shook his head, taking off his cap and mask.

"Brodie, can we watch funny tik toks?" Cooed me, in my natural baby voice.

"Like whose tik toks?" He asks.

"Like that one Heath Kirks guy."

"How about this: Let's go to bed."

"No!" I boomed, pouting.

He didn't put up with my nonsense, he would usually just pick me up, carry me on his shoulder and put me to sleep.

But this time, he gave in and spoke: "Fine. But no horseplaying after 11. My rules."

I beamed with excitement, running over to the speaker and started to play Lil Peep.

"....who in the hell is this?" He questions, very curious.

"Lil Peep!" I smiled.

"Okay..."

"Dance with me," I smiled, turning on the light making him blink.

"Mosh?" He asked, about to push me.

"Sure!!" I shout,

He stepped one step closer to me and pushed me.

"Wait---" I paused, and turned on Concrete Dream instead.

"Fuck yeah," Brodie started to push me.

I pushed him back, as he threw his hands; I grabbed them.

"Nice try," I chuckled.

"Getting mean now, aren't we?" He teases.

"This is how we get shit done in the pit." I kicked him in the face.

"Ow" he groaned, covering his face.

"Uh oh..." Brodiey get mad now...

He growled and rose me up, putting me on his shoulders.

"I'm ABOUT TO FALL!" I yelled.

As the music blared in the background, he threw me up in the air, caught me.

Giving me a heart attack; Brodie set me down quickly.

"Damn it Brodie!" I reached up and slapped him.

"Oh, you want to test my limits?" He inquires.

"No..." I mumbled.

First kicking him, now slapping him in the face.

He grinned, "here comes the tickle monster!!"

"NO!!!" I scream, laughing when he scooped me up and tickled me.

"Brodie! Stoppp!!" I try not to laugh, but his tickles were contagious.

Accidentally kicking him in the side with my foot, he dropped me.

I fell hard on the carpet. "Ouch.."

"Okay, let's get you to bed." He demands.

I grabbed my ferret. "Can Mr. Snuggles come too?"

"Yes. He can."

Mr. Snuggles squeaked and nuzzles into my arms, Brodie chuckled lightly. "Silly ferret."

He came in the room with me and Mr. Snuggles, and watched me by the door way, making sure I was in bed.

"Goodnight, dear." He wished me a goodnight.

"No hug?"

He walked towards me and quickly gave me a 5 second hug.

"Night."

....*10 minutes later*

I was playing with my ferret, "bounce that booty like a basketball" I sang, bouncing my ferret up and down.

The ferret squeaked and hissed, softly smiling at me.

"No, no. I love you---"

"Did I tell you to go to bed?" Called Brodie from the other room.

Oops. Got caught.

"Bounce that booty like a basketball!" I sang a little louder, agitating the living shit out of Brodie.

The ferret gave a little yawn, and chewed on air.

"No, Sylvia. You need to rest." I pouted and stuck out my bottom lip.

"No!" I giggled.

"Sylvia...." He angrily said, getting irritated.

"Fine. Here." I stuck my ferret in Brodies face.

"GET THAT STINKY ASS ANIMAL OUT OF MY FACE!" He yelled (Brodie Lee for president.)

Part 3? (Last part.)

#SoundCloud

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hitchell-mope · 5 years

Text

(First film. Introduction to the dormitories and the first heist attempt)

Doug: So you got your basic amenities. En-suite. Walk in wardrobe. Entertainment system. On the coffee table are your new phones. Tomorrow you have a free period before your um

Jay: remedial goodness lesson.

Doug: yes. Sorry.

Mal: eh not your fault.

Doug (squeaky voiced with emotion): that’s the first time someone’s said that to me

Evie: yeah ok. Bye bye.

Doug: wait wait wait. Before your lessons tomorrow go to the IT department they’ll set you up to the schools database. Internet apps the cloud. Oh. And though it may be really tempting you might wanna stay off social media for a while. People tend to be cruel

Carlos: eh it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ve dealt with cruelty before

Doug: pissed off heroes are a whole different breed to

Mal: the villains that raised us?

Doug: uh yeah. So anyway. On a school day you need to be inside you rooms by nine and asleep by twelve preferably

Jay: I can deal with that

Doug: PM not AM

Jay: ah

Doug: on the weekend you can stay up as long as you want provided you are rooms

(Evie shrieks)

Mal (sighing heavily): what now

Evie: these drapes are just darling

Mal: nobody cares but you

Evie: just because you have no taste magenta

(Mal’s eyes start glowing. Jay rushes to intervene. Carlos spins Doug around so he isn’t watching)

Carlos: So The IT department. Do they have a club?

Doug: yeah they meet every Saturday at noon. A buffet lunch is provided.

Carlos: who do I have to sell my soul to so I can join.

Doug: I don’t take souls or firstborns. Just show up and sign the sheet. Oh that reminds me. The other weekend electives are chess club, which I also run and hold immediately after IT club, sports, cookery and library assistance

Carlos: chess club? (Whispering to himself) I love this place

Mal: dibs on the library

Doug: wow. Nobody ever chooses the library. Usually we have to strong arm them into it

Mal: well I like books

Doug (already liking the four): alright then. Remember. Ben and I can help with anything you need. Room service is speed dial 8 on your dormitory phones. Your senior advisor for this term is Abigail Sweet the daughter of the schools doctor Joshua Sweet. Jay Carlos. If you would come with me I’ll show you your room

Carlos (practically giddy): I get to room with Jay?

Doug: yep

(Carlos lets out a happy cackle)

(Later that night. In the guys room)

Evie: ha ha we have a bath you don’t

Mal: they can use ours if they want

Evie: I hate you.

Mal: I’m sorry is that supposed to affect me?

Jay: anyway. I couldn’t get any information out of Doug.

Carlos (playing a video game): yeah. Sorry. My bad. I just really like chess and computers.

Mal: you never need to apologise

Evie: of course. The prodigal son.

Carlos: yeah yeah. I’m perfect you’re inconsequential. Get over it. Anyway Mal. What do we do first

Mal: book?

Jay: are you asking or telling

Mal: telling?

Jay: C could you get the mirror and the book. They’re on the bed that’s already reeking of Evie’s ambergris

Evie: it’s perfume

Jay: what do you think perfume is made of

Mal: eau du monstro

(She and jay high five)

Evie: yeah yeah I smell like whale carcass. Can we move on please?

Jay: sure

Mal: first we should uh. Locate the wand. I guess

Jay: mirror time

Evie: I know I know. Magic mirror/in my hand/where do we find the fairy godmother’s wand stand?

Mal: the...moozum? What’s a moozum?

Carlos: museum Mal.

Mal: ohhhh. Thank you Carlos

Jay: let’s go

(He takes them there in a puff of gold smoke)

(At the museum)

Carlos: oh crap there’s a guard

Jay: oh you’re kidding me

Evie: what?

Jay: I think this might be Mal’s area of expertise. Take a look

(Near the guard is a spindle and spinning wheel)

Mal: ah fuck. Ok let’s see now.

Jay: Mal, I believe it’s your turn

Mal: let’s see let’s see let’s see. Ah here it is. Destroy thine enemy/bring unto them pain/cancel out their heart/to ensure thy reign

(The guard gives a few sputtering breaths. Then nothing)

Evie: way to crap out magenta

Mal: you know what. I think I could swap your brain for his. Or replace it with a grain of sand. Cause that would help so much more than your unneeded comments

Jay: in other words. Shut up Evie. And let Mal do her thing. Any other ideas.

Mal (leafing through the book): not yet. Hmmmmm. Oh! Here it is. Prick the finger/prick it deep/send my enemy off to sleep

(The guard goes to touch the spindle. But hesitates)

Mal (voice quiet but powerful and reverberating through the guards head): touch the spindle. Touch it I say!

(The guards asleep)

Evie: you do sound so much like your mother mag

(Mal, unimpressed, plucks a strand of hair from Evie’s head)

Evie: owuh! What the fuck was that fit?

Mal: grey hair sis. See. Although now two will grow in its place. Like the hydra

Evie (tailing behind the others): at least the hydra had the good sense to be buried under a rock slide

(Once inside)

Carlos: So I’ve dismantled the cameras. And we know where it is. But we don’t know where it is

Mal: good boy. And nope. No we don’t

Jay: hold on

(He closes his eyes and takes and deep breath. He glows gold a second. Then stops)

Jay: down the hall. C’mon

(Halfway through the museum Carlos stops)

Jay: you ok bud

(Carlos starts hyperventilating)

Mal (rushing to him): hey. Hey hey hey hey. Hey. It’s ok what’s wrong

Evie: they’re here. Why are they here. Ooh I’m sorry I ate dinner mother

Mal: what is it-oh fuck

(They’re looking at statues of their parents. Jafar in genie form. Grimhilde as queen. Cruella after the car chase. And Maleficent, green skinned and smoke enveloping her)

Jay: what the. What the FUCK are they doing here

Mal: they’re statues. Wax. I think.

Evie (hissing): that doesn’t make it better!

Mal: hey jay. Could you take Carlos outta here please. I kinda need to be alone for a minute

Jay: sure. C’mon buddy

(He carries Carlos away)

Evie: what do you need a minute for? Oh I think I’m gonna throw up.

Mal (not really paying attention): there’s a bathroom. Up the hall and to the right

(Evie runs off. Mal eyes glow and she starts breathing heavily as emerald green flames lick at her feet then she screams and the flames explode and surround her. Then they stop and she collapses on her hands and knees)

Mal: why are you still looking over my shoulder? You know I won’t fail. So I do not need you looking over my shoulder from HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY!!!!

(She weeps. Then pulls herself together forgetting that no one can see her. She stalks over to the inscription)

Mal: what the hell?

(This is how “when you’re evil” starts. After the song. Mal is passed out on the flagstone floor. Carlos and jay and kneeling over her. Carlos is worriedly shaking her trying desperately to wake her up)

Carlos (nearing tears): M. M please. Please wake up. Please. I need you to wake up. Jay. Try it again. Please try again

(Jay uses magic to summon water from a nearby drinking fountain and splashes Mal’s face. It doesn’t work. Carlos breaks down in sobs and clings to Jay. This makes Mal wake up)

Mal: what happened? How long was I out for?

(Carlos, still crying, throws his arms around Mal who returns the hug)

Mal: hey, hey buddy it’s ok. I’m ok. Look at me. I’m fine

Carlos (tears streaming down his face): I can’t be alone. I don’t want to be alone

Mal: you’d still have jay. And Evie.

Carlos: it’s not the same

Evie: hey guys I think I found it. Oh god what happened?

Jay: Mal was out cold. We couldn’t wake her

Evie (now cottoning onto the reason why Carlos is crying): oh. But she’s ok now.

Mal: yeah. I am. I must’ve passed out when I burned the room. So why doesn’t it look burnt?

Jay: I fixed it. Covering our tracks.

Mal: take us to the wand then

(Evie teleports them to the stand)

Mal: Carlos. It’s ok if you don’t want to.

Carlos: no. No. I’m fine. I can do it. Umm. Force field. I think. Not exactly weapons grade cause, you know, what is, but I think someone with like low level magic can get through

(They all look at Evie)

Evie: I hate you all

Mal: same. Now go

(Evie heaves a heavy sigh. She passes under the railing. Her hand gets through the force field. Next thing they know she’s thrown backwards and hitting the opposites wall. Then alarm starts)

Mal: great job indigo

Evie: next time YOU CAN DO IT THEN

Carlos (hands over his ears): how about we get out of her then Mal can murder Evie in peace!

Jay: agreed. Come on.

(The run back to the entrance. Carlos shuts off the alarm. Mal puts the guard back to sleep. Jay poofs them back to the boys room)

Evie: that was

Mal: a fucking festival of mediocrity

Carlos: I’m sorry

Mal: you have nothing to feel sorry for. Or you jay. Evie and I on the other hand

Evie: of course it’s somehow my fault

Jay: blaming each other won’t accomplish anything. But come ON Evie. Seriuosly?

Evie: you would’ve done THE SAME THING!

Jay: ya got a point

Carlos: so what do we do now.

Mal: sleep. Then. I guess we go to school.

(Evie groans loudly. Jay winces. Carlos’s face lights up)

(Elsewhere)

Ben: so how did it go

Doug: Carlos signed up for chess and IT club.

Ben: I’ve been meaning to ask. Your technologically illiterate. So

Doug: I gotta learn don’t I

Ben: fair do’s.

Doug: Mal wants to do the library work

Ben (big nervous smile on his face): so they’re settling in well. How do the like their rooms?

Doug: Evie likes the drapes. When I left Carlos was clearing out the mini fridge. And jay is a bit miffed that he has no bath

Ben: good, good and we can fix that

Doug: you know this might actually work. Strangely they seem to like me.

Ben: who wouldn’t like you? You’re amazing

Doug: well. Mal Jay and Carlos like me. I think. Evie looks straight through me.

Ben: you’re a good guy. Give her time. She’ll see

Doug: and that right there is why I’m not letting you say that ever

Ben: why.

Doug: Chad is a “good guy”. The Fanon interpretation of Captain James T Kirk of the starship Enterprise is a “good guy”. Gaston was a “good guy”. If you tell Evie that I’m a “good guy” that’s basically saying I’ll ankle chain her to the stove in shorthand

Ben: huh?

Doug: you don’t watch many romcoms do you?

Ben: only Gilmore Girls

Doug: ...Fanon interpretation of Dean Forester

Ben: OH MY GOD!!!! Oh I’m so sorry

Doug: don’t worry about it. The important thing is they feel welcome.

Ben: yes. We did good today

Doug: yes.

Ben: well. Good night. Unless of course

Doug: captain marvel or infinity war?

Ben: infinity war please

Doug: get it set up I’ll fetch snacks

Ben: yay

(In Belle and Adam’s bedroom)

Adam: I don’t like it. At all.

Belle: well it’s not up to you.

Adam: it should be. If I had my way I’d have raised taxes

Belle: knowing our son he’d tax the rich

(Adam shudders)

Belle: it’s not actually a bad idea. Least I remind you we are French after all

Adam: what’s your point?

Belle: Ben is doing what he believes is right. And I for one will not fault him for that

Adam: oh don’t you worry. Leave the fault finding to me

Belle: you are rather adept at that if nothing else. Get to your bed. I’m going for a walk

(She goes to Ben’s. She peeps into the door way to find Ben on a beanbag stonefaced)

Belle: what’s wrong?

Doug: Loki just copped it

Belle: oh. Um.

Ben: it was sad the first time. But after 18 viewings it’s a tad underwhelming

Belle: ah. How did it go this afternoon?

Ben (brightening up): it went really well.

Belle: that’s good. But don’t stretch yourself too thin ok

Ben: ok mom. Hey. Can I have a tattoo?

Belle: nope

Ben: aww worth a shot. Doug has one

Doug: it’s a birthmark. And it’s on a pick axe that I’ll inherit from my father. Not on me

Belle and Ben: I stand corrected then

Belle: boys when the movie is finished you are to go straight to bed and Doug is to go to his room. Ok

(The boys mumble in agreement)

Belle: good night

Boys: night

(Back on the island)

Grimhilde: oooh close but no cigar

Maleficent: do shut up

Jafar: what the hell did she do?

Maleficent: collapsed. Like a child having a fit

Grimhilde: then the Apple truly does not fall far

Jafar: this is true. You did have a fit

Grimhilde: may have been rage but a fit nonetheless

Maleficent: would you both like to spontaneously combust

(They stay silent)

Maleficent: good. It took sixteen years for my plan to come to fruition. And I can wait again.

Jafar: and what exactly are you planning on doing to them should they succeed?

Maleficent: separate them for good. My daughter becomes the puppet. Your son in a lamp bound to serve you. The girl married off to Westerguard. And the boy chained in his mothers abode.

Grimhilde: I adore those odds.

Jafar: and their magic?

Maleficent: expunged from their being

(Back in the boys room)

Jay: so how’d you wanna do this?

Carlos: I still don’t know why there are two beds. If I’m your roomie shouldn’t there only be one

Jay: as always you are correct C. And I have an idea

Carlos: I’m listening...

Jay: we put our stuff on the bed next to the window. We can unpack after class. And we share the bed next to the walk in wardrobe oof

(Carlos tackles him in a bear hug)

Carlos: nothing changes?

Jay: nothing changes bud

(Meanwhile in the girls room they’re fighting over who gets the bed next to the window. Evie wins by putting her makeup bag down. Mal get her revenge by getting the toilet brush and whacking it on the pillow)

Evie: that was just uncalled for

Mal: smells better then your face junk

Evie: you’re a real class act you know that right?

Mal: yes. Oh by the way. Bags-eye the bathroom from now until we leave

Evie: SHIT!

(Mal cackles)

#disney descendants #zendaya!mal

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