#I clean the house. my dad never cleans up after himself if he does its a miracle. I do the laundry for everyone. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebillyhargrove · 4 months

Text

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 22/? Half in hate

Billy is listening to Scorpions "No-one like you" (1982) and Ratt "I'm insane" (1984)

***

Ugh, fuck this cow-turd town, fuck

Every! fucking! thing!

FUCK !!

So yeah .. the news. Billy gets rejected in all three California universities he applied to - Los Angeles, Berkley and

San Diego.

The fucking irony. It's like the state he was born in, doesn't want him anymore, the city he's lived all his life in, takes revenge in him for leaving.

Like it was Billy's fault.

Goddammit.

God-fucking-dammit!

There goes the dream. Grease monkey, that's all you're gonna be, Billy.

And, that's fine. He likes grease. It just sucks to hear a no. Three of them, in a row.

Of course, the places he was striving for are all super-top-notch-level. Like he said, the high GPA, impressive SAT results that he got in his junior year - Billy had it all, but he lacked fucking recommendations and the stuff he couldn't really scrape here, in a new town, new school, as early as autumn.

Thanks dad, for making me change schools in my fucking senior year, really like .. I appreciate the hell out of it.

Fuck this shit. Billy is sitting in the camaro, waiting for Maxine, smoking and listening to nothing. He got the news from Berkley on Monday morning, right after the party, and from San Diego - in today's mail, bright and early, and all day he's been suppressing fucking tears. Feels unfair, somehow, his state turning him down like that.

Jesus, what kind of kindergarten snot is that, Billy?

Everything is the way it is, in life.

To each its own.

For him it'll be a job in San Diego when he gets there. Maybe he'll reapply next year, maybe he'll aim not at such prestigious places, he'll need to think of a plan, get his full focus on it. Everything now has kinda lost its clarity

Since he's been uprooted and torn away from his ground.

He needs to get back to himself. Needs to stand steady on his feet again.

Billy sees Harrington walking towards the beamer, his girl's already waiting for him near the car. He's putting his peachy ass on its wing, takes out a Parliament, lights it.

He looks so hot taking a drag, hollowing his cheeks, cupping his hands to shield the flame of the lighter from the wind. Steve's wearing a dark gray light jacket, and the colour becomes him.

The nose looks a bit bashed in huh, well .. doesn't make him less pretty. He's still

The prettiest.

Fuck, stop it, dumbass, avert

Avert the stupid unruly eyes. Don't let them run wild.

But I haven't taken even a peek at him all day .. three days.

Is Harrington going to bring Tammy to her house, and they are going to kiss in the beamer, and then say bye for the rest of the day? Or are they driving some place else? To the king's castle?

The rich boy does fuck all. No need to have a job, studying isn't his forte .. the hell he does with all the time on his hands?

Fucks around, that's what he does.

For Steve, life must be so easy. To each their own. For Harrington it means daddy's money, probably a cushy job in his big important business. Very possibly, a trust fund. His life is taken care of. Billy's never liked rich kids. Fucking entitled, believing they are better than everyone else. Too clean, too uninteresting.

University of Chicago accepted him and - guess what, the fucking Purdue - Billy doesn't even like the sound of the name - waitlisted him. Yeah, fuck you and your waitlist which nobody cares for. He's not gonna go to either of these places. Billy needs to get to the coast, away from here, this Mid-fuck-western state.

He craves warmth, he craves air, it's an absolute SOS situation for salty water to wash his wounds.

Max waves good bye to her friends, but comes to the car with the bunker girl.

"Billy, Jane is coming home with me. She's staying for the rest of the day. We're having a sleepover, actually. You're bringing us both to school tomorrow morning."

Bossy much?

Like fuck I care.

"Hi, Billy."

That Jane girl always looks at him like he owes her a thousand bucks. She's an odd bird.

Don't talk to the driver. Get in and let's go already.

Billy grips the steering wheel, and the knuckles on the hand he'd smashed a car window at the junkyard with, hurt.

The girls jump in the backseat and start chirping excitedly.

Billy gets going, but doesn't even turn the music on to wipe out the cheerful noise. He's lost in thoughts.

He's still thinking about Harrington. He's trying not to, but he can't control it. You can't throw someone out of your head completely in a matter of days. The only thing that he succeeds in is

At school, Billy doesn't let himself look at Steve. Okay, today in the parking lot he slipped a little, but in classrooms, in the hallways he doesn't. This week there aren't any basketball practices, which is very convenient, coach Nelson is on a sick leave or something.

Billy looks at everything and everyone BUT Harrington.

The

I'm not a cocksucker

Still burns.

Sometimes he can feel something hot scraping all over his back

And he knows

That's the asshole's stare.

Fuck him.

Billy needs to get the fuck away from here, this place is like quicksand

Sucking him in.

It's trying to tie him down, make him stay. Why did he even send the fucking applications to the nearby universities here if he was never planning on going there? Hargrove doesn't know. He doesn't always make the best and most rational decisions.

Quicksand. Step back, get away, a-fucking-sap.

School still has to be graduated from.

***

Alright, one thing here has become bearable. April in Indiana truly marks the irreversible arrival of spring. The bitter cold that lasted through the winter and still showed its frosty face in March is now mostly a cursed memory.

Hargrove's outside. It's close to midnight, and he's slowly walking down Cherry Lane, a cigarette between the fingers. April is starting to feel really fucking nice. Cool still, but nice. Soon everything's gonna bloom and hustle. The sun shines every day now. Rains pour. The sky, with or without clouds, is marvelous and gives hope.

Billy's taking advantage of warm nights. He sometimes leaves the house when everyone is already sleeping - either walks out of the door when he is sure he won't disturb anyone, or climbs out of his window - ground floor, easy as pie.

It's dark, windless and serene, and Hargrove just needs to clear his mind. Street lights are flickering slightly, and it's misty, the night air is damp and thick, especially after the recent evening rain, with a promise of fragrance of blossoming flowers soon.

Billy's watching his boots step heavy on the wet gray asphalt. Right, left, right, left. He's not gonna let Harrington do it to him. He's not gonna fall for this rich fucking asshole.

Like,

for real.

They've fooled around, Billy got knocked down a notch from his wuthering high, enough. Did he seriously think that Steve's on the same wavelength as him?

It's ridiculous.

Hargrove's following the movements of his knees. Right, left, right, left. He likes the way his solid thighs sway. Billy needs to get his shit together. Feed the anger. Stay in the right lane. Double bag his dick, it's always been a rule with girls. In the case in question, extra precautions seem necessary. Triple bag his heart. He just needs to hold out for three fucking months, and then he's on the road, driving west. Southwest.

Billy's nurturing his fury, replaying in his mind over and over again

Steve's voice, Steve's raised eyebrows. The word, the phrase, the meaning of it

I'm better than you

The fury grows, bursts in acrid flames,

Lets him think for a moment that he can be in charge.

Billy tightens his fist, and the knuckles hurt again. Good.

He turns around and slowly walks back to his car. He didn't park it in the driveway, he usually leaves it at a distance from their house now.

Hargrove gets in, turns the music on, makes the volume down. Lights up a cigarette and savours a long looong drag. Watches the smoke drift around and up in the dark sky, listening to Scorpions' "Rock you like a hurricane." Shit, isn't that the song that was on when he first set his foot in the Hawkins High parking lot?

It is.

Billy remembers the moment, how jittery he felt, how miserable, the whole move still making FUCK sense to him. That was the first time he ever laid eyes on King Steve.

It was in September. Now the school year is almost finished.

Girl, it’s been a long time that we’ve been apart

Much too long for a man who needs love

What in fucking hell ..?

Billy wants to turn the song off but then changes his mind.

There’s no one like you

I can’t wait for the nights with you

I imagine the things we’ll do

I just want to be loved by you

No one like you

Other thoughts come to mind. Billy puts his head on the headrest, shuts the eyes and remembers their kisses, all of them. Remembers how they held each other's bodies, the absolute, utter frenzy. Why has he never felt anything like that before, what is the secret, what is the fucking sorcery.

The fury, well-fed and groomed, is still present but it steps away a little, letting sadness and .. something like yearning? .. seep through the tiniest cracks.

Girl, there are really no words strong enough

To describe all my longing for love

I can't wait for the nights with you

I imagine the things we'll do

There's no one like you

No-one like you

Remembers the first and only blowjob, and how strange and amazing it felt. He would do it again. He wants to. Kiss and touch Steve again. All of him. Starting from the pinkie toe and going up to the guy's mane of hair.

It's not gonna happen.

When Billy's finally done with his midnight brooding, and gets home, slips under the coolness of bedsheets and drifts off to sleep, he sees a very vivid dream.

He's amidst the ocean, clear warm dark waters all around, light waves rocking him softly,

Lovingly.

It's dark because it's night time.

He sees a beautiful light purple jellyfish, swimming in the near

It looks otherworldly, gently propelling its umbrella-shaped body through the water. The jellyfish glows in the dark, and, naturally, Billy wants to touch it. He is aware that these creatures can be dangerous, the tentacles are covered in millions of stinging cells, holding venom that can be very painful, even deadly.

Billy is extending his left hand, and the jellyfish touches him gently. It is the prettiest one in the whole wide ocean.

Hargrove keeps playing with it and notices that the tentacles start growing longer, the body is stretching itself, and the colour changes from purple to transparent and then light blue.

It is still glowing, and it's by far the most beautiful thing Billy has ever encountered.

Suddenly the tentacles are grasping his hand tighter, and they claw their way up Billy's arm,

Despite the intensity - or because of it - it's still such a pleasant sensation, he lets the jellyfish twine itself all over his limb,

When immediate piercing pain shoots through his body and the skin on his arm starts burning

The pain stings viciously, Billy is trying to set himself free from the tentacles

In mad realisation that he might actually die right now. It's like something is drilling holes through his veins, going for

The heart.

The jellyfish loosens its hold, caressing the boy, soothing the burn.

Billy understands that he must swim ashore, get some kind of medical help

However, he doesn't distance himself from the stunning ocean creature, against all reason, against the sense of self-preservation.

He doesn't swim away but stays close, gazing, admiring the beauty

Mesmerized.

Blood bringing venom to his core.

***

On ao3

#harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fic #harringrove slow burn #season 1 steve x billy #harringrove high school shenanigans

9 notes · View notes

lurkinglurkerwholurks · 8 months

Text

Safe House

First posted: September 23, 2018

Focuses on: Jason Todd and Damian Wayne

My favorite bookmark: "This is so soft and feels oddly melancholic"

Tier: Top 20 in terms of hits, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

As I said in the original notes, this story came from yet another conversation with @starknjarvis27 about potential misconceptions about Jason from kids who weren't around to know him before Ethiopia. When their dad won't talk about who he used to be, and who he is now is so different, it's all guesswork. She spun that talk out into This Above All and I made Safe House.

And heyyyy hey hey, hello to my first double meaning title! 🥳

The safe house was supposed to be empty. The last time Damian had surveilled the tiny, one bedroom apartment, it had been neatly neglected—the cupboards fully stocked, the furniture sheeted, the air stale. It had been foolishly lax of him to assume that the apartment would remain untouched for so long, but his options had been limited.

I was very new at writing Damian here, but I enjoy writing in his voice. He's such a fun mix of fastidious old man, snobby teen, and insecure child.

Damian hesitated in the unlit entryway. He could see the light from the living room down the long, narrow hall, and the muffled chords of an acoustic guitar filtered out from a stereo. If he took a step backward, he could open the front door and slip out again before he was noticed.

If I remember correctly, I roughly planned Jason's safe house along the outline of a friend's apartment that I know well. I'm very bad at mentally picturing spaces, so it seemed the safest way to make sure I didn't mess up. Even still, over the years, I think it's shapeshifted a few times.

Todd. Wonderful. Of all the potential occupants.

Damian, it's his apartment. (This does imply, though, that Damian is more comfortable even with Tim than with Jason.)

“Leave your shoes on the mat,” Todd said after a pause. He turned back toward the living room and said over his shoulder, “I just cleaned the floors.”

Clean freak Jason Todd is a headcanon near and dear to my heart.

Damian knew the outline of his mother’s ties to Red Hood’s genesis and had never been able to parse whether the man felt grateful or resentful, nor how those feelings then translated to Damian.

In my universe, Talia/Jason never happened because I don't like it.

Damian realized as he padded down the hall in his socked feet that he had never been alone with Jason Todd before without someone else in the next room. The Manor had never felt so far away.

I bumped up against this line writing a later fic (I don't remember which one) because I wanted to keep this true and consistent, which meant I couldn't just send Damian over to Jason's for whatever I needed him to do.

Damian expected to find the apartment much like he had seen it last, just with a few lights turned on, a few dustcovers pulled back. Instead, as he stepped blinking into the lit heart of the apartment, he found himself in a warm, comfortably appointed living room. The original furniture had been artfully arranged and new furnishings added. The living room now boasted a faded but plush area rug, a few potted plants, and a full bookshelf, none of which had been there before. It wasn’t a full room—the walls were still mostly bare, the furnishings either from IKEA or pulled from a curb—but it was lived in.

All that careful dancing for nothing. If Jason's space is this nicely appointed, then he's pretty well settled, which places him pretty far along the family's timeline in terms of how he's doing with Tim and Dick and Bruce etc. That's the real backbone of how I piece things together, and I don't think Damian could have avoided Jason for that long over there, which means this is probably operating off on its own timeline. Of course this is just me being picky. No one else will notice or care and odds are I'll forget I ever said this by the time it becomes relevant for some other fic, because at almost 100 fics, the details are becoming a little hard to keep track of.

Everything in Todd’s drawers were too big, almost laughably so. Damian scrubbed his hair with a hand towel, then set about rolling up the legs of the sweatpants he had grabbed. He remembered Grayson mentioning once how underfed and—he thought the word was scrawny—Todd had been when he had first come to the Manor. Damian couldn’t believe it. The Todd he’d always known was larger-than-life. Case in point, the Han Solo t-shirt Damian chose to slip on that could double as a parasail.

Firstly important because Jason's physicality helps nod to how much has changed for him, beyond death and resurrection, and how Damian only has access to his recent past. But also I vaguely remember picking Han Solo for a reason, and I can't remember what that reason was now. Maybe just Jason and Han both vibing on "Never tell me the odds."

Todd sat in a wingback chair next to the space heater, his socked feet propped up on a faded purple ottoman. He held a book in his lap and didn’t look up from its pages when Damian entered. “This is my night off, so you better not have brought any crap with you. If I have to punch someone tonight, I’m gonna be ticked,” Todd muttered. He flicked a finger back toward the kitchen. “Tea. Counter.” He had already served himself with a porcelain cup and saucer that looked strangely similar to Alfred’s preferred set at the Manor.

Jason really is one for creature comforts once he allows himself a safe space. It was fun trying to decide what he would want and also what he could afford and where he might get it. But also, Alfred would likely have been his first introduction to tea, so of course he would assume that what Alfred does is the One Correct Way.

“I didn’t know you read,” he blurted out when the strain became too much. Damian fought another grimace. He could almost hear Drake laughing at him.

99% sure that piece of dialogue came directly from my chat with Stark. ("How do you write realistic dialogue?" I mean, it helps when you're physically saying it out loud in conversation.)

Todd did glance up at that, peering up beneath dark brows and through— “I know you’ve been in my room, you snot. What do you mean you didn’t know?” He had been, many times, though Damian wasn’t sure how Todd knew that. He had been careful to leave everything as he found it.

That em-dash was a cheap trick to hold the reveal a few more lines.

Of course Damian is a relentless snoop, especially about someone like Jason, an intriguing and potentially dangerous mystery.

Jason didn't know-know, he's just very good at guessing accurately because he also knows Damian would snoop as a matter of curiosity and survival. Also maybe Damian wasn't quite as careful as he thought.

With the warm, dim lights, settled in his wingback chair with a book, his spectacles, and the softest-looking sweater Damian had ever seen, Todd looked… well, he looked like Father.

My most beloved headcanon, that Jason and Bruce unconsciously mirror each other in so many ways that neither suspect.

Todd settled back in his chair and closed his book. “You sure are chatty tonight, brat.” His tone felt like showing teeth, but with the intention to playfully nip instead of to bite. That was something Damian understood, something that made sense to him even if he didn’t understand the exact why of the playfulness. Damian took another sip of tea.

I was pleased with that phrasing, because I did want to convey that Jason's casual insults usually mean less than how he says them, and framing it in terms of a big dog play-fighting with a puppy seemed both relatively straightforward and a comparison that Damian would instinctively understand and use as his own personal lens.

But also, Damian: "Why is Red Hood acting nice??" Jason: "Look at the baaaabyyyyy."

Todd lifted one shoulder, a half-shrug Damian had seen him do before. “It’s my night off. I could smell a storm coming. No one ever comes here.”

Oh. I forgot about this line. Apparently this is not the safe house that appears most regularly in Mutual Aid etc.

Todd was… He couldn’t say. Grayson insisted that they were brothers, and not merely by law. But Damian knew Grayson. He knew Drake and Cain as well, though they had their own veils of inscrutability. He didn’t know Todd. What scraps of information he had were contradictory and, he suspected, muddled by the emotions of those who conveyed them. Not to mention the contradictory attitudes of Todd himself, who at times seemed to have no regard for anyone at Wayne Manor, but at other times would, well, take Damian in out of a storm and make him tea.

The absolutely irresistible allure of the Much Older Cousin who comes and goes in mystery. Also, as much as Damian is set up to sneer at and look down on Red Hood, they have too much in common, so of course Jason is a tantalizing puzzle.

He hesitated, then added, “Besides, no one talks about you. Not truly.” He peeked up at Todd through his eyelashes and so caught the twisted grimace on the man’s face before he could hide it behind his own teacup. “You mean other than as an object lesson,” Todd said. “Or bogeyman,” Damian admitted, then hastened to add, “Not so much anymore, not now that you’ve stopped killing.” “Have I?” the other man shot back, but Damian only frowned.

That exchange definitely came from my initial conversation with Stark. Also, Jason is such a poser. Dude hasn't killed anyone in AGES.

Damian picked up the book he had been reading. He had expected perhaps one of the pulpy detective novels that Father enjoyed, but instead found himself thumbing through a battered bind-up of The Lord of the Rings. It was a classic, to be sure, but weighty and heavily marked with carefully drawn blocks of yellow, pink, green, and blue. The inside cover had the stamped name of a secondhand shop, but the highlighted lines felt newer.

I can't remember if I absorbed fanon to choose LOTR here or if it just felt right. I know a lot of fics prefer Pride and Prejudice as Jason's book of choice, but the boy needs a distraction from the storm and this felt like a choice Baby Jason and Bruce would have bonded over.

For while the stacks were straightened and neat, the number of books overwhelmed the crooked little construction and made the plywood shelves bow. Damian didn’t recognize all of the titles, but he could pick out 18th century romance novels, 19th century thrillers, translations of ancient poems and epics, modern adventures… the variety was endless. The owner seemed to have no niche focus but instead delighted in everything, though not a single tome looked new.

I looked at my own shelves for this paragraph and then added in bits from more erudite folks of my acquaintance. (I am not a huge fan of the capital Classics.)

“You’re in school?” “Don’t think I’m smart enough?” Todd snapped back. That…wasn’t out of the question, though now that Todd said it aloud, Damian could hear how ridiculous the sentiment was. Of course Todd was smart enough for anything, much less something as stupid as school. Red Hood’s base cunning was part of what made him such a formidable opponent and ally. Damian also couldn’t picture Father choosing to care about a stupid child. Intelligence was important to him. And even the thought of being quasi-related to an idiot pricked Damian’s pride. Todd was a Wayne. Sort of. Therefore, he must be intelligent.

Jason is touchy about his perceived intelligence. Damian isn't an idiot, even though he formerly assigned to Hood one type of intelligence but not another. Also his statement about not being related to stupid people is 10000% me. My relatives are allowed to be fallible. They're not allowed to be stupid.

“I hate school,” he hissed. “You spend your days how you please, you patrol when and where you want. Why would you trade away even a fraction of that freedom for school?” “I loved…” Todd paused, seeming to weigh the truth of his own words before tossing aside what he was going to say. “I didn’t love school either. I could hold my own, but P.S. 81 was an underfunded joke, and going to Gotham Prep was like getting tossed in a shark chum. I liked learning, though. Always have.”

Straight fanon gleaned from a million other fics for Damian, plus my own spin on fanon for Jason, because a blanket statement that he loved school felt off for the reasons mentioned above.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Todd speak with unvarnished sincerity.

I love Jason forcing himself to be even slightly vulnerable for a specific reason. He's hungry for it. All the posturing has to be exhausting. But he has to have a reason to lever himself into it. Right now, the lever is the traumatized kid sitting on his floor.

“You breathe a word of this to Bruce and I’ll feed you to Killer Croc.” Todd had leaned forward in his chair to glower at Damian. The soft-spoken confessor was gone, replaced by the gravelly Red Hood. Unfortunately, he had lost his edge with Damian somewhere around his second cup of tea.

I really enjoy Jason losing his edge and being unable to get it back no matter how hard he tries.

At Todd’s quizzical look, Damian rolled his eyes. “I will not subject myself to interrogation in order to fix your petty problems, Todd. I will defend Father’s honor with my life, but his oblique examinations are distasteful.” Todd narrowed his eyes, making Damian roll his own again. “Tt. He wishes to know if you are well. He wishes to know if you seem well-rested, if you seem well-fed, if you seem happy, but will not ask. For a man adept at directness, he can be truly maddening. So you have nothing to fear. I have no wish to subject myself to such foolishness.”

Damian: We are all subjected to interrogation on your state WILL YOU PLEASE JUST TALK TO THE MAN I am tired of writing up reports on your vital statistics.

Damian scowled, but then admitted, “You are not as odious as I first believed.” He didn’t want to speak what had been in the back of his mind for weeks now, but his honor and pride demanded it. “I… understand that you were instrumental in my return. Thank you.” Todd frowned and tugged on the cuffs of his sweater until the sleeves pulled up almost to his knuckles. “I wasn’t given a choice. Probably wouldn’t have helped if I had been.” Even as the words punched Damian in the chest, Todd looked up, blue eyes clear and uncharacteristically unguarded. “But you ended up with a better deal that I got, and I’m glad. So you’re welcome, or whatever.”

And there we go. Damian truly believed and hoped the safe house was empty. He just needed somewhere close by to hide. But before he probably wouldn't have risked it without the proof that Jason did actually care whether he lived or died. Which is why the seeming dismissal hurts so much here. He doesn't have context to know that Jason would have refused for Damian's sake. Better not to come back at all than to come back the way Jason had.

The older man drew in a breath, eyes flitting toward the curtained window, then back to Damian. “What got you tonight? The smell?”

I hate POV terms like "the older man" and would find a way to work around it if writing now. But also I'm decently sure connecting the Pit to the smell of ozone has been used many times in other fics, I didn't come up with that.

Todd either ignored Damian’s shudder or misinterpreted it. He tapped his cup. “Aromatic tea helps. Fills your nose with something else. I like using one of Alfred’s blends. Happier memories.” He tilted his head in the direction of the radio. “Music, for the noise. And distractions.” Classwork abandoned in favor of a retreat into a familiar fantasy.

I like that Jason's finally reached a place where he's healthy enough to comfort himself instead of using his own wounds as further punishment. Good for him.

“I should have warned you.” Todd’s mouth was turned down, but not in anger, or if it were, it was at himself. It was, Damian realized, what Todd looked like when he felt guilty, and he filed away the knowledge for later. “When you came back so different, I didn’t think you’d have the same issues.”

I don't know much at all about Damian's death and resurrection, canonically. I think I heard he came back with temporary powers or something, which is silly, so I ignored that completely. (Best practice for relating my fic to canon is that unless a specific detail is mentioned, it probably didn't happen in my universe.)

“It sucks,” Todd agreed, and for once his forthrightness soothed instead of rubbing Damian raw. “And it may never get completely better. But you’ll learn how to cope.”

Damian desperately needs the safe, soft comfort that someone like Dick can give him as his bedrock. But it also makes sense that Jason's more bare bones approach would be its own comfort, given Damian's upbringing and suspicion.

This was also my first fic that had the honor of being turned into a podfic!

#fanfic bts brain dump

13 notes · View notes

bluiex · 1 year

Note

Yall got Dilf Scar rotating so hard in my head that I've come up with an idea. What if April is Scar's daughter not Grian's? He's either broke up with, carried, or widowed Grian is a teacher still, he was going to have April in his class next year. From what he heard from her teachers she was a delight and he was looking forward to it. But then budget cuts happened and he was let go leaving him in a worst predicament Meanwhile Scar is doing very well for himself, Convex is taking off. He and Cub are doing well but that means more work for him, some traveling, and even when he's working at home. He doesn't always have time to break to make sure April is taken care of. So whats a good dad to do? He looks for a sitter that can stay with them. His house is more than big enough after all, and when Grian comes knocking. He's heard great things about him from other teachers, who were talking about how April would love him. Since the school year was ending and they were talking about her next teachers. So Scar's ecstatic to have him on, he can help her with activities during summer to ready her for the next year. Plus he finds out Grian has cats and absolutely is happy to have them too, he know Jellie will love some friends Grian comes over to start talks and getting to know what will happen and whats expected of him. And he's very VERY surprised when he see's Scar, not only is Scar handsome he's jacked. And he's somehow expected to work knowing that this man will sometimes be in the house too April takes to Grain instantly. But she's also Scar's kid, while Scar might not notice Grian's attraction. April sure does and will use it against Grian, since she's decided her dad needs someone and Grian is very nice She absolutely does that thing where kids are like. Do you LIKE my dad? And when Grian answers that yes he's a friend. She will go no, do you like LIKE my dad, which flusters Grian. He adores April but sometimes he wishes she were more like her dad and didn't notice Its not long before Grian moves into his room and starts his routine of helping with April day and night, so Scar can focus on his work. Not that he ever ignores April any chance he gets he's there to spend time with her and chat up Grian When the end of the school year happens, Scar takes April out for ice cream to celebrate getting through that year. Grian expects that he's going to be left at home to clean up and start supper. Nope, Scar won't take no for an answer and has Grian come with them. Scar's excuse is that Grian needs to get out of the house more, other than going shopping. Or picking up and dropping off April, when Grian goes to argue By that time Grian and Scar had been getting close, they just need to finally cross that line. April has tried many times to get them to just date already, she wants two dads afterall! Scar feels like he made the right choice when he see's how Grian cares for April. His heart just melts as they interact, it helps when Grian will look up from what they are doing and smile at him Or when Grian appears at his office with food and something to drink. Since Scar had forgotten to get up and get food again. While it wasn't agreed upon, Grian had taken to taking care of him too. Which never fails to make Scar's heart flutter. Not only does he take such good care of his beloved daughter, but he's even taking care of him. He's so smitten with this man -@spacecatdet

AWW YEEEES swap their rolls qoq April is Scar's daughter.. I love it. Grian can also double as a tutor for April :D

This is perfect Space- I need a fic for this now

#bluie gets an ask poggers #catch me writing anothef short fic AAKSJHSHS #long post

37 notes · View notes

i-am-still-bb · 5 months

Text

No. 15

“I don't need you to help me, I can handle things myself.” | Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

Pairing: Fili/Kili Rating: T Universe: Fast Car (formerly Dead Batteries) Words: 1579

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, hangovers, bad life choices, implied Kili/OCs, references to earlier events of physical and emotional abuse.

“I’m fine,” was the lie that Kili told everyone. He told it to his teachers, himself, his friends, and even Fili.

After his mom died? I’m fine.

After his dad found out like Kili liked boys? I’m fine.

After Fili showed up drunk in the middle of the night and left Kili conflicted with the fact that he liked his best friend in that way. “I’m fine.”

After Fili almost fought Kili’s father in his front yard? “I’m fine.”

College professors? His college roommate? The other drunk kids at parties? “I’m fine.”

Ari and Tauriel were the first people that Kili admitted that, no, he wasn’t in fact fine. Granted, Ari had been holding his hair back while he puked at the time, but it was still true.

“Have some water,” Ari urged, holding out a plastic cup emblazoned with the Student Union’s logo.

Kili leaned back against the cold ceramic of the tub. “Thanks,” he said weakly, taking the cup with a shaky hand.

“Do you always get so drunk that you sleep on random people’s floors?” Tauriel asked as she passed by the bathroom door again. She was busy cleaning up her and Ari’s campus housing from their Thirsty Thursday party the night before.

“I…” Kili hung his head. He wanted to say no. No, he did not routinely wake up on the floor. No he was not regularly so hung over that he had actually made sure that none of his classes started until afternoon. “Yes.” He took a sip of the water. He wanted to drink more to rinse his mouth out and to feel hydrated again, but he knew from experience that he should not do that.

“Is that fun?” Ari asked.

“It can be,” Tauriel interjected again. This time she stopped in the doorway with a plastic trash bag hanging from one hand.

“I was asking him,” Ari said. She turned to Kili. “I don’t think I ever actually got your name last night.”

Kili opened his mouth to answer, but he had to lunge for the toilet again. Ari rubbed his back when he was done.

“It’s Kili.”

“I’m Ari.”

“Tauriel.”

“Thanks for doing this. I know you have better ways to spend your Friday mornings. I can just go, actually,” Kili started to stand.

“Stay.” Ari’s hand on Kili’s shoulder prevented from rising.

Tauriel shrugged. “It’s not like I was going to my 9:40am philosophy class anyway.”

“What one are you taking?” Kili asked, deflecting. “I was thinking about taking one next fall.”

“Philosophy and the Modern Drama. I do not recommend it.”

“Noted.” Kili picked up the cup of water and took another stip.

“So, is it fun?” Ari reiterated her question.

“You’ll have to excuse her; she doesn’t drink,” Tauriel said before walking off again to clean up some more.

Kili shrugged and stared and his legs and the pink ‘70s tile that the University had never seen fit to remove from its student houses. “Sometimes?” he offered. “There’s a point where it is fun. I’m more relaxed, I’m not worrying, I’m laughing, I’m making other people laugh, but it’s hard to stay at that sweet spot. If I get too sober then the feeling goes away and I just feel out of place, but if I keep drinking it always tips over into more drunk, feeling out of control, sometimes blacking out. And that always ends with hangovers like this.”

“Then why do it?”

“Why does anyone do it?”

“I do it for the social aspects,” Tauriel said loudly from the other room. “Most people on the archery team drink, so I drink to fit in. And I don’t drink so much that I’m stuck on the floor the next day. Plus I have a system. If I always had to deal with hangovers like that,” she was in the doorway again pointing at Kili, “then I would ot drink. The bad would outweigh the good at that point.”

“Why don’t you drink?” Kili asked. He turned the plastic cup between his fingertips.

“I just don’t like it,” Ari said. “I did try it, but I did not like the way it felt, how it felt when I woke up, and I just never wanted to do it again. I don’t mind if other people drink, and I’m happy to make sure my friends are safe if they do.”

Ari and Tauriel did not say anything, clearly waiting for Kili to answer the question.

“I…” Kili trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say. “I guess I want to forget stuff, and drinking makes that easier?”

Ari and Tauriel shared a look. Ari brushed a curl behind one ear. “Forget what?”

Kili started to speak but stopped. He drew his knees up. “I screwed some stuff up before I came here. Actually by coming here.”

“Okay…? I’m listening.”

“I was seeing this guy. We’d grown up together, we were best friends, and then we were more. I wanted to stay there and be with him, but I just couldn’t and there was no way that he was going to come to Chicago with me.”

“Why not stay in California? They have a lot of schools?” Ari asked gently.

Kili wiped his nose. He had not noticed that he had started crying. “My dad. We were cool together when I was little, but then he started drinking a lot after my mom died. And then when I told him I thought I was gay… things just got a lot worse. At first he just yelled, but then he started using his fists.”

Ari covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide.

“And then the same week I got my acceptance letter with my financial aid package with its full funding, Fili and my father almost fought each other in the front yard of my dad’s place. I knew then that I couldn’t stay there anymore. I had finally realized that nothing could make me stay. And then I just clammed up and didn’t share that with Fili… so we didn’t even get that last summer together. I ended up working a lot and watching a lot of crap television until it was time to move here. And I think I made a huge mistake. I think I should have stayed. I think about him all the time still. I miss him.”

Ari placed a hand on Kili’s knee, “Kili…”

“Can I kick your dad’s ass?” Tauriel interrupted.

Kili snorted in surprised laughter. “What? Yeah. Sure.”

“Good. What a douchenozzle.”

Kili smiled despite himself.

“Your dad and my dad can get beers together and then get some matching black eyes from my lovely girlfriend here,” Ari said. “And it sounds like it was an impossible decision. If you had stayed you might be thinking that it was a mistake too.”

“I know. It just… It sucks.”

“It does,” Tauriel agreed. “Do you think you could handle some eggs? I’ve got a few left and some breakfast meats if anyones hungry.”

“Omelet, but hold the ‘breakfast meats’,” Ari said.

“I already know your opinion about breakfast meats, but what about our new friend.”

Ari rolled her eyes and stood.

Kili looked from one to the other. “I get the feeling like there is some innuendo with that question.”

“Have to find out now if you’re going to be a good fit if you stick around,” Tauriel shrugged. “So, do you like sausage for breakfast?”

Kili’s cheeks turned a bit pink before he spoke, “All sausage is good sausage.”

Ari crinkled her nose. “You can have all the sausage then.” She helped Kili to his feet.

Tauriel grinned wickedly, “This is generally a meat / sausage free household, except for the occasional artificial meat product.”

“You’re horrible,” Ari accused.

“But you love me.”

“So you assume.” Ari kissed Tauriel’s cheek as she brushed past her.

They set up camp at the round kitchen table that had seen better days having been passed from student accommodation to student accommodation since it was discarded by its original owner. Tauriel turned on the radio, and started the busy work of making breakfast, and they went through the preliminary conversations of getting to know one another. By the time the omelets were gone and Kili had been half-bullied into eating all of the proffered sausage (he just felt bad eating all of their food, and he was worried about getting sick again) they had exchanged phone numbers, friended each other on Facebook, and made plans to meet up later in week to do some studying.

And slowly Kili started telling people that he was not “fine.” He told his professors when he needed more time on assignments rather than just working himself into an anxious mess and turning in subpar work that left him with a bad taste in his mouth, and the poor grade he received as a result did nothing to help anything.

He made an appointment with the school’s counselor.

And he stopped drinking enough to black out on a regular basis, which meant that he no longer woke up on strange floors or with strange people. He more often than not woke up on the futon in Ari and Tauriel’s campus apartment hungover on too many carbs (in the form of pizza and garlic bread bites) and Mountain Dew.

And eventually he wasn’t lying when he said he was fine.

But sometimes he wasn’t.

And he knew that was okay.

Everything @silvermoon-scrolls @metztliluaa-blog @i-am-pinkie

Fili/Kili @dubhlachen

If your tag is not working, you may have to adjust the searchability of your blog.

#whumptober2023 #no. 15 #I'm fine.#the hobbit #fic #bb writes #fast car au #dead batteries au #fili/kili #fiki

7 notes · View notes

loveelle · 2 years

Text

Thank You, Jerry~ Part 2

Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: After getting an afternoon free from the band, Luke decides to see his parents, only to find out something he wasn’t expecting.

A/N: THIS IS A REPOST!!! I posted this on my sideblog when this account wasn’t working and now, I’m posting it again here just to clean things up! Hoping to have the next chapter out soon!

WC: 2.9K

SERIES MASTER

Part 2: And to quote Twilight

—

Last night was a dream, right?

No. There’s no question about it. Last night was a dream. Period. Jerry did not exist. Jerry does not exist. There’s not a ghost haunting your house!

… right?

No!

“Y/N! Get up, or you’re gonna be late!” Your dad’s voice echoes heavily through the house before the front door slams shut when he leaves for work. Not even a moment later, your alarm blares. You don’t move to turn it off, instead you pick up your pillow and press it firmly against your face to muffle the loud scream you release. Was it long? Honestly you had no idea, but it did feel good to get out any possibility that last night wasn’t a dream from your mind.

Ghosts weren’t real, end of story.

Now that you’ve faced that terror of the day, you had another to battle. High school.

Leaving your high school a quarter of the way into your senior year isn’t ideal for most kids, and you were definitely one of them. You hoped the kids and the teachers were nice, but you haven’t really gone to a new school in years. Everyone knows each other at your old school.

Turns out you can blend right into the background at Los Feliz High School.

—

Luke pops back into the studio as Julie is saying goodbye to Alex and Reggie, reminding them to stay out of trouble while she’s at school, as if the boys needed reminders and as if they listened to them.

“Where have you been?” Reggie asks when the guitarist garners their attention.

He hums as if he didn’t hear the question, trying to think of anything to cover up the fact he’s been at your night for hours.

“Just out.” He shrugs and the boys share a look with a Julie.

“You’re not still upset about your parents’ house, are you?” Alex asks from behind his drums, twirling his sticks between his fingers.

Luke stares at the ground for a moment before shaking his head, but he doesn’t say anything. All three pick up on his weird silence, but they aren’t sure exactly what’s causing it.

“Okay, well I’m gonna be late for school, so you guys be good.” Julie says before sending Luke one last worrying look and then another to both Reggie and Alex, urging them to figure him out before she was out the door.

Alex and Reggie exchange a glance before taking seats on opposite sides of Luke.

“Hey buddy.” Reggie begins with a wide, and rather fake, smile. Luke raises a brow at him. “How you doing?”

“Guys.” Luke’s sighs out, falling back against the cushions. “I’m not mad anymore.”

“You sure?” Alex asks not fully believing him.

“Would someone who’s mad do this?” Luke launches himself off the couch and onto the coffee table, presenting his arms out as he stands atop.

Alex and Reggie exchange another worried glance. “Yes, yes they would.” Alex says the same time Reggie says “Dude, you do that when you’re mad all the time.”

Luke huffs in disappointment and falls back into his spot with crossed arms. “Fine, maybe I’m a little mad.” He finally admits. “But I have to tell you guys something.” His voice lost its harshness as Alex and Reggie turn slightly in their seat to listen. He was going to tell them about you, all about his conversation and presence in your life but a strange hesitation stops him. What if Alex and Reggie make him stop visiting you? They probably wouldn’t, but what if they tell Julie and she makes him stop? Did he even want to visit you again? The pit forming in his stomach told him the answer was yes, he does. So instead of telling his best friends, Luke shakes his head and forces a smile. “Never mind. It’s- It’s nothing.”

—

By the time lunch rolls around, you’ve spoken to a total of four people and three of them were teachers. The lunchroom was insane, kids were everywhere, sitting at and on the tables as well as the floor nearby them, it was a miracle you hadn’t stepped on a stray backpack as you looked around for anywhere to just sit and eat. It was loud too, as if the entire school was playing a different song and you begin to finally realize what your father was talking about when he said music was very important at this school.

After a few painful minutes of hunting for a spot, you find a table in the back with just two young girls sitting at one end and so you quickly take a seat at the other. The girls turn their heads and throw you small smiles as you sit down. You can’t hear their conversation apart from one word.

Ghosts.

Did you hear them correctly? Were they talking about ghosts? No. No, you must have misheard. With last night and now their conversation, it was too big of a coincidence.

“Hey.” A soft voice pulls you out of your fretting as you look back at the two girls, both of them watching you curiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you’re holding your fork like it threatened you.” One of them pointed out to the utensil in your hand and you quickly released it, letting it clatter on your plate as you shake your head.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” You assured them, taking another glance around the lunchroom. “Just nervous, I guess. It’s my first day.” They scoot down the table closer to you and you do the same, dragging your tray across the table and making the three of you laugh at the awful sound it makes. “I’m Y/N.”

“Julie.” The first girl waves and smiles.

The second girl also smiles but throws up a peace sign. “Flynn.”

“How are you liking Los Feliz?” Julie asks as she takes a bite of the sandwich in front of her.

You hesitate before sighing. “It’s fine. A little different, but I’ll get used to it.” The girls nod. “Hey, is everyone just really into music here or am I crazy?”

“Well, we can’t count out crazy,” Flynn jokes and considering you’re believing you saw a ghost last night; she had a point. “But you’re either a music person or lacrosse person.” She points over to another table where students in letterman jackets crowd around, laughing so loud you can hear them from across the cafeteria.

You pick at the food in front of you. “So, what are you guys? Music or lacrosse?”

You figured the answer was kind of obvious, they didn’t really seem like lacrosse people, but it was a fair question as both their faces light up.

“Actually, Julie here is in a band and I’m the manager.” Flynn sweeps her hair over her shoulder, and you grow impressed with your new friends.

“Really?” You ask and start to match their smiles. “Would I have heard of you? What’s your name?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Julie says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “We’re called Julie and the Phantoms.”

“You’re Julie and the Phantoms?” You blurt out, dropping your fork not-so-casually. Julie and Flynn both nod. “Sorry, it’s just my best friend loves you guys. You’re really good.”

“See Jules,” Flynn puts a hand around your shoulder, “the new girl thinks you’re good.”

Wait a second…

Phantoms?

Is that what they were talking about earlier when you overheard ghosts?

“So, phantoms?” You begin, keeping your head low. “Where uh, where did that come from?”

The girls share a look you can’t understand before Julie clears her throat. “Holograms. They’re holograms, my other bandmates. They’re Swedish.”

You stare at her, maybe a little longer than you should before you furrow your brows. “Swedish… holograms?”

They nod.

So not ghosts. Although they wouldn’t just tell you if they were… right?

“Interesting. Very cool though.” Your smile turns normal again and Flynn and Julie let out breaths of relief when you weren’t looking.

The lunch bell rings and you’re forced to pack up your lunch before heading to another boring class you can sit in the back of and pretend you weren’t going crazy last night. Maybe you still were because as you tap your pen against your desk, listening to your teacher ramble on about- well, you weren’t really sure- you couldn’t stop thinking about Jerry.

—

You throw your backpack on the ground by your bed, sending the books toppling out but you don’t pick them up. Instead, you huff and fall on your mattress, tugging the blankets out from under you and wrapping them around your body tightly so only your head in poking out, although it’s squished firmly in the faded pillow lying at the head of your bed.

It had been a long day and Luke could most certainly understand as he watches you from the corner of your room. He glances over to the lamp, sitting on your desk untouched since last night, then he looks back to you.

There was a click, you could hear it through your pillow protection. You blow it off, old house, random noise, you hear random noises all the time. Then it happens again, and again, and again. So, instead of ignoring it, you peak an eye open. You can still hear the clicks, only now with your eye opened, you can see the wall of your room light up. Then go dark, then light again.

Unlike last night, you scramble off the bed, snagging your foot in your blanket and sending your entire body to the floor.

Luke winces when he hears your collision, and he can no longer see you. He almost walks closer to you, wanting to make sure you were okay, but you pop up, making him stumble back and clutch the desk.

“No, no, no, no,” you keep mumbling while clutching the blanket closer around you. You start pacing, keeping as far from the lamp as you can. “You’re not supposed to be real, you really weren’t. You were supposed to be a dream, Jerry, you weren’t supposed to exist!”

Your yelling ceases the same time your pacing does and you stare straight at the lamp. Luke doesn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He came here today on a whim, in fact he didn’t even know what he was doing. He looked at the clock, saw Julie was going to be home soon, thought of you and next thing he knew, he was watching you toss your backpack on the ground.

He didn’t know what to do, so he flickered the light on again.

You whine and fall on the floor in a lump of limbs and blankets. “You’re real.” You whisper. “You’re really, really real.” Luke turns the light on and off fast and you put your hand up. “Alright, cool it Casper. You’re going to burn out the light.”

Surprisingly, Jerry listens.

He sits in your spinning chair again, having too much fun in the seat but you don’t seem to care as you stare off into space, processing the last 24 hours.

“Okay.” You finally say as Luke slows down the spinning to pay attention, but he doesn’t stop, that way you’ll know where he is. “I’m talking to a ghost. No, I’m talking at a ghost, the ghost isn’t talking to me, it can’t,” you pause, glancing up at Jerry and tilting your head, “can you?”

Luke knows the truth: he can, but he doesn’t know if he should. Before he could find a way to silently tell you ‘no’, you yank one of your journals out of your backpack alongside a pencil and push them towards Jerry. “I don’t know if you can write, but if you can, um, try that?”

He hesitates for a moment before picking the journal and the pencil off the ground and your eyes go wide at the sight of floating objects. Slowly, you stand and shuffle over to the desk keeping a good distance from the still moving chair.

Luke flips it open, trying to figure out what to say before settling on a simple “hello”.

Your eyes scan over the word more than a few times, at first trying to understand the awful chicken scratch scribbled on your page but after that, it was purely in disbelief that you were talking with a ghost.

“Hi.” You whisper, tightening the blanket and hiding your giddy smile. “This is so cool.” Luke was in agreement. “Okay, um, what’s your name?”

Now that you learned Luke can write, it seemed only fair you’d ask him his real name, only the problem was that Luke wasn’t sure he should say it. What if this whole thing blows up in both of your faces. He wasn’t sure how, but with his luck it was inevitable.

You can call me Jerry :)

You snort, covering your hand with your mouth. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to live with me calling you that. What’s your name?”

I like Jerry

Maybe it was because his handwriting was impossible to read, but it took you a few seconds to understand Luke’s writing and in those few seconds, Luke was given the chance to finally look at you.

He liked looking at you. Your lip was pulled taunt in your teeth, eyes fluttering back and forth over the words Luke had previously written, and your smile, full of disbelief and wonder, was bright on your face. Yeah, he really liked looking at you.

“How old are you?” You break his thoughts. Luke shakes his head, quickly scribbling down the number 17 before pausing. He had a birthday since he’s been a ghost, so he scribbles out the 17 and quickly jots down 18. Then again, he’s had several birthday’s since he’s died, and he wasn’t really sure he could age anymore. He scribbled out 18 and rewrote 17, underlining it a few times to say it was his final answer.

You chuckle at the odds of this ghost being the same-ish age as you. “Okay, and to quote Twilight, how long have you been 17?”

“Twilight?” Luke asks himself. He assumes it was just another thing he would have to ask Julie about later and hope she doesn’t ask where he learned about it. He shakes his head and scribbles down 26 years.

“26 years?” You gasp softly. Never could you imagine being a teenager for 26 years. Hell, you’ve already experienced enough teenage years to last you a lifetime. “Wait, that would make you like,” you pause, trying to do math in your head, “43 years old?”

I died and came back 25 years later. Been a ghost for almost a year :(

You look at where you assume Jerry’s head is, your smile long gone. You have no idea what it must be like for him, over half your life gone just like that. “I’m sorry.” It was all you could manage to get out.

Your whispers make Luke’s stomach fall. He didn’t mean to make you upset or feel bad or him. He picks up the pencil, tapping it on your desk to get your attention and when you do look, he quickly scribbles something down on your paper.

Don’t be sad, I wasn’t alone :)

“You have friends? Ghost friends?” The comment makes you straighten yourself. “Are they here now?”

Luke chuckles.

No, no they’re not. They’re my best friends, we died together.

You place your hand on your heart. “Oh, that’s so sad.” At least they didn’t have to mourn each other. Losing your best friend or friends like that sounds horrible. “How did you die?” You ask without thinking. The chair stops moving for the first time in 5 minutes, and you realize you might’ve overstepped. “You don’t have to answer that, that’s personal, I’m sorry.” You ramble, taking a few steps away from the desk.

Luke only stopped spinning because he wasn’t expecting the question, not because it was too personal or anything. Your back was to him before he could even stop you and he quickly writes on the paper.

Hotdogs.

You weren’t looking at him, and even when he’s tapping on the desk with his pencil, you couldn’t hear it over your apologetic ramblings. Luke had no other choice.

He softly chucks the pencil at the back of your head.

“Ow!” you clutch the back of your head, gently rubbing it while turning to the invisible ghost behind you. “I get it, it’s a personal question, but there is no reason to throw things!” You shed the blanket around your shoulders, pick the pencil back up, and slam it into the desk when you’re next to Jerry.

You were about to speak again before the pencil was swiftly picked up and tapped against new words on the paper. “Hotdogs?” You read out slowly, wondering if you just read it wrong. “Hotdogs… killed you?”

Luke sighs. Food poisoning.

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape when you understand and fall into a seat on your bed. You chuckle to yourself. “I’ve never really liked hotdogs. There was just always something about them. I guess now I can say it’s because it killed my new friend.” Luke and you laugh at the same time, finding this situation quite comical. Your laughs slowly stop first, your eyes fall to the ground, and you take a deep breath. “We are friends, right Jerry?”

Luke didn’t need to think before he scribbled down a very simple yes.

#Luke Patterson x Reader #Luke Patterson imagine #Luke Patterson fanfiction #Luke Patterson #Luke Patterson series #jatp x reader #jatp imagine #jatp fanfiction #jatp #Julie and the Phantoms #Julie and the Phantoms x reader #Julie and the Phantoms imagine #Julie and the Phantoms fanfiction #Thank you Jerry

100 notes · View notes

finxwrites · 1 year

Text

So I saw some cool fanart and got a craving for an Age of Sail au of Stranger Things, but I kept tripping up on how a proper fancy naval ship has like a hundred guys at least. I do not want a hundred guys. That is way too many guys. Half the point of this show is the secrecy, the “no one would believe me if I told them,” the us-against-the-world isolation that’s inherent to all of its genres.

There are two solutions to this problem. One is to shrug and ignore it, focusing only on the main characters and treating the rest as a faceless crowd with conveniently uniform opinions. This is the standard for writing these stories anyway, so it’s not like it’s even cheating really.

The other is to just…leave the guys behind. At the bottom of the sea. Sorry, guys.

Hopper was a captain of the Royal Navy, on track to be an admiral someday, but that was then. These days he captains a merchantman with a skeleton crew, because despite everything he couldn’t quite let go of the sea. He never takes his eyes off the horizon. That’s not quite the same as never looking back, but it’s the best he’s got.

His crew is the folks he works with in canon. This means they’re going to be apprised of the horrors before we’re done, unlike in canon, but I’m okay with that.

He knows Joyce Byers from the old days, when they were both kids going wild together, and even after he got himself a position as a midshipman, whenever he came into port they’d spend a night going wild together again, for old times’ sake. They remember this fondly, but they haven’t spoken in years – they saw each other once in the time after Lonnie left, and only once.

Hopper takes on passengers sometimes, to make up profits when margins are slim. This time he takes on Joyce and Jonathan, who are traveling to the Americas for a fresh start; and Nancy Wheeler and her companion/lady’s maid Barb, who are going to visit an aunt in the Caribbean. Will and Mike have been friends for years, even before the two of them took service on the same ship a year ago, so Joyce has promised to look after Nancy on her trip.

Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are midshipmen in the royal navy, all serving on the same ship. Someone’s parents are landed gentry, maybe with a seat in the House of Lords or something, so some strings are pulled to get that ship to escort Hopper’s, or to get Hopper’s ship into the convoy that the boys’ ship is guarding, or however that works. I have not done research :P We’re going to call the boys’ ship the HMS Middlefast, because they’re. um. in middle school. Look I didn’t think too hard about this and neither should you. The Hawkins was already taken, that’s Hopper’s ship.

Also serving on the Middlefast: Steve! He’s a lieutenant, aka one rank below the captain, even though he’s like nineteen and has barely been at sea a full year. (His dad 100% bought his rank.) He starts courting Nancy almost as soon as he lays eyes on her.

Tommy’s also on the Middlefast, because we need him there as a set piece for Steve’s character arc. Unfortunately this means Tommy will not survive this story. Sorry, Tommy.

In my defense there’s no evidence he survived in canon either. It’s not like we ever see him again after his fight with Steve! For all we know he and Carol got eaten in the woods while Steve was cleaning off that marquee.

You know who else is on the Middlefast? A snappish midshipman called Max who keeps to himself and doesn’t seem to want to be friends with anyone. Dustin and Lucas think he’s really cool and spend a lot of time trying to befriend him whenever Will is hanging out with his family on the Hawkins. (Mike does not think Max is cool, he insists, he thinks Max is annoying. The feeling is mutual. They’ll get over it eventually, but not before they almost die a lot.)

We’re going to just smush seasons 1 and 2 together, because I’m the boss and I say so. (Also bc s2 is kind of about Things Festering, and being unable to move on, and PTSD, and that just doesn’t jive for this au. We’re not going to hold still long enough for anything to fester, this is just one really long, really cursed voyage.)

So that’s how things stand for a while. Steve and Will take every excuse they can to get assigned duties on the Hawkins, and after a while the captain of the Middlefast just gives up and makes Steve & the boys the default option for whenever someone needs to go stand watch there or whatever.

Will hangs out with Jonathan and his mom a lot, and spends the rest of his time playing silly games with his friends. (They should be standing watch, yes, and they do, but also they’re twelve, they goof off a lot. The only people on the Hawkins who ever berate them for it are Hopper and Steve, and Steve’s busy wooing Nancy while Hopper does not actually care that much, so it’s not like they have that big an incentive to stop.)

Steve and Nancy are dancing around each other as she puts up the protest she knows she’s supposed to, while Barb is increasingly done with her nonsense but does her best to be supportive.

The night everything changes, two terrible things occur.

Nancy finally lets Steve into her bed. This is not one of the terrible things, although Nancy will think of it as one for some time to come. It will be a while before she can untangle her guilt from that which she does not actually regret.

Barb decides that there are certain things she doesn’t want to overhear her best friend doing and goes for a walk along the deck. It’s a clouded night, not even stars to keep her company, but she leans on the railing and gazes out into the blackness anyway.

Will is on watch that night. Jonathan usually keeps him company when he’s on watch alone, but he’s been trying to learn all he can about navigation from Hopper’s pilot, both because he believes in picking up useful skills when he can and because if he helps with the calculations the pilot will slip him a bit of money for it. It’s not a salary, it’s not reliable, but it’s extra cash and he knows how deeply his mom dipped into their funds for this gamble on a new life. So Jonathan is too tired to stay up all night with Will. Will sends him off to bed with a laugh and a roll of his eyes—“I’ll be fine, Jonathan, oh my god, I’m not a baby, I’m not going to die of boredom without you.”

This is not one of the terrible things either, but Jonathan will think of it as one for the rest of his life.

The first terrible thing happens with no witness but one: a good man dies. He dies helping a frightened little girl, who sees his death and flees faster and further than those chasing her had thought possible. She weeps as she runs. Her salt tears drip into the salt waves beneath her feet.

The second terrible thing appears as a glimmer of moonlight on the black waves. The glimmer spreads, slow and viscous as molasses, and brightens as it does. And yet the moon is still hidden behind thick clouds.

The light spreads upward, illuminating the rotted hull of an old, old ship. The ship itself seems to glow in the false moonlight. The light spreads further: the deck, the quarterdeck, the poop deck, the forecastle, all bare of any souls, living or otherwise. A broken bowsprit over a figurehead so encrusted in barnacles it’s impossible to make out what it was once meant to be. Three masts in full square rigging, the sails billowing taut before the wind despite the huge ragged holes torn through the fabric.

A ghost ship, hollow with haunting. And it sails straight for the Hawkins.

It sails through the Hawkins.

It does not leave empty.

Nancy wakes in the dark before morning. (Steve does not.) She goes outside. She’s not looking for Barb; she hasn’t thought of Barb once that night, with a casual selfishness she has not yet outgrown. But she finds Barb’s shawl, soaked through with seawater, caught on the deck railing. It’s glowing like the still-absent moon.

The glow disappears in the first weak light of dawn. It does not return. No one believes her the next morning when she insists it was real.

And so, the aftermath.

In this story, Nancy and Joyce are united in their insistence that something happened. In this story, there is no obvious explanation for the disappearances: yes, they fell overboard, so tragic, it happens, but why both of them? On a calm sea? There’s something wrong here. Neither captain wants to admit it, but they both know it to be true.

In this story, the boys are convinced Will is hiding somewhere. They know him: they know he’s careful and sensible and has been at sea over a year, and wouldn’t just fall overboard like an idiot. They know he’s dutiful when they’re not dragging him away with games, and wouldn’t leave his post unless he saw something. They think he witnessed something awful—a crime, a murder, maybe Barb’s murder!—and he’s hiding from a scurrilous villain. They steal through every nook and cranny of both ships looking for him.

They find a girl instead. She is terribly afraid. When they decide they have to tell their captain about her, a huge wave crashes through the nearest porthole and blocks their passage.

They’re far above the waterline. There’s no way for a wave to reach them so high. They all rush to the porthole to confirm it, and then bicker amongst themselves about what’s going on.

It takes another wave before they realize it’s El.

In this story, Joyce dreams of her missing son. She dreams of him at the stern of a ghost ship, reaching for her. She wakes at the railing of the Hawkins, reaching back, about to step overboard into the waves.

It’s Hopper who grabs her before she can go over the side. He turns her around to shake her, demand answers, and his words die in his throat.

Her eyes are glowing. They’re filled with eerie light from end to end. Like phosphorescence. Like moonlight.

She blinks awake. The light vanishes. She registers where she is, who’s holding her, and the grief-worn lines on her face harden with determination. “He’s alive,” she swears. “He’s alive, Hop, I know he is.”

This time, he believes her.

Some plot stuff happens. Honestly I’m not too fussed about pinning it down just now; I’d rather leave some wiggle room in case I ever actually write any of this. Here’s the gist + some essential bits:

We’re going to lean hard on the fantasy elements. The whole point of an Age of Sail au is to change the aesthetic, after all, and this story’s aesthetic includes ghost ships and hungry mermaids and ancient curses.

El can walk on water. She can command the waves to some extent. If she strains herself, she can summon a storm. She’s a child of the sea; when she begs the sea for aid, the sea heeds her.

She can find the ghost ship, too. At some point she’ll point them toward it and they’ll sail to its home port.

Its home port is an island found on no map, because it’s actually a massive sea turtle whose shell is overgrown with greenery. It’s where El grew up, raised—no, more like kept—by a witch (Brenner) who can command the creatures and spirits of the sea. Of which she is one.

I really want to have Brenner work for the East India Trading Company. They’re just such good villains for the setting! Plus the way they operate semi-autonomously, not really answering to any government and without a hugely centralized hierarchy, gives them room for a top-secret laboratory magic island full of experimental sorcery.

But I also like the vibe of a mad witch alone with his monsters, and after all half the fun of an au is changing things around. I don’t need to give the man a laboratory and official funding.

Decisions, decisions…

Anyway, Brenner sent the ghost ship to find El. She managed to hide herself from it, so it scooped up the closest people it found: a kid about her size and shape, and a girl who was acutely alone. (Ghost ships have some rather unusual criteria for what makes two people similar.)

Nancy’s going to go on an expedition onto the turtle island to find Barb and blow shit up. This fic, should it ever exist, will be called Cherry Bomb. Possibly Jonathan (and maybe Steve!) will come along, but the story is hers. She deserves to blow shit up.

Maybe she even gets to Barb in time to save her. Or maybe she doesn’t, but Barb isn’t entirely lost—she might be a ghost, bound to a locket that Nancy wears ever after round her neck; she might have been transformed into a siren, or a selkie, or some stranger creature; she might be cursed with an enchanted sleep. Maybe Nancy gets to carry Barb with her and search for some way to save her. Maybe they both get a second chance.

Steve gets that character arc. He talks shit to Jonathan, gets punched in the face, rows over to the Hawkins on a dinghy to apologize, and then gets caught up in the sudden escalation of plot and is onboard when everyone goes to the turtle island.

The HMS Middlefast sinks. Probably when a kraken eats it. Sorry, Middlefast. Our main cast is conveniently on the Hawkins when it happens.

Possibly the captain of the Middlefast decided that the sensible thing to do when faced with a witch who commands the dark powers of the sea is to arrest him. So now there’s a witch in the brig, laughing at them, and, well, it goes about as you’d expect.

At some point it comes out that Max is a girl who disguised herself as a boy to run away from home and have adventures. Not sure how she became a midshipman, since her family definitely didn’t buy her commission; possibly she started as a ship’s boy and earned the rank for valor in combat.

Possibly she gets tossed in the brig or something and the boys bust her out and smuggle her onto the Hawkins. None of the adults over there really care about the impropriety, they’re too busy dealing with ghosts.

Kali is also a daughter of the sea. A siren, maybe, who beguiles with her song. Or maybe she’s something totally unique, like El—perhaps she commands the winds as El commands the waves, and she and her tiny crew of pirates always have fair skies and a strong tailwind.

As in canon, she invites El to join her. She promises freedom, agency, and the chance to know herself truly and fully. (If we go with Brenner working for the East India Trading Company, she can promise vengeance, too.)

As in canon, El declines, and chooses instead to go back and save her friends. Possibly from that kraken.

This fic is called A Room Where the Light Won’t Find Us. It’s about finding a place you belong; it’s about hiding, and choosing not to hide anymore despite the risks; it’s about fear, and family, and the struggle between being a wild, glorious, unfettered thing and binding yourself to others through love.

Will gets possessed for a bit. Sorry, Will. Maybe the ghost ship anchors itself in his ribs and keeps trying to steal him away again. Maybe he slowly becomes a siren, eaten away from within until there’s nothing but a coyly smiling monster that wants to draw you in and drown you. Maybe it’s a leviathan of the deep, long buried in slumber, and Brenner planted some seed in Will that’s calling to that creature so that it slowly wakes.

At the end Brenner gets eaten by a kraken, El manages to excise the evil thing from Will, Nancy blows some shit up and maybe sort-of rescues Barb, Joyce gets her son back, they all live happily ever after. (Except for everyone who’s now at the bottom of the sea in the wreck of the Middlefast. Sorry, everyone.) We sail along peacefully for a while, perhaps make it all the way to the Caribbean, and then—ACT TWO!

#act two may take me a hot minute #I'm trying to meld setting-typical tropes & supernatural elements into a plot that vibes with s3 #it's not going to be the same as s3! but the vibes you know? the shape of the horror #stranger things #st pirate au #highkey I am in love with this au #many thanks to tom and tano for the fic titles #and to the lovely anon who sent in that love song – that one's probably going to be in act 2

30 notes · View notes

moth--blood · 1 year

Text

RFA with a scenekid MC

707, yoosung kim, jumin han, zen, jaehee kang

707/SAEYOUNG CHOI:

absolutely loves your style

lets you set up a work area by his desk for your jewelry / DIY projects!

not a huge fan of stepping on loose beads but hey, there's worse things to step on

thinks it's so interesting if you make kandi with can tabs or toys, or just general jewelry with stuff you find in the house. he admires all the creativity that goes into your projects

if you make clothes/masks with beads he is always so proud of you and the results, even if they're not as expected. he voices that very loudly; you're his 606, of course he's proud of your work!

if saeyoung has a lot of agency work, and you have unfinished projects, his favorite thing is both of you working in silence on your own projects, just enjoying the others presence. you being around always helps him focus and if its the same for you, he's more than happy to sit with you while you work

LOVES your music taste, especially if it's more electro

if you make him anything, jewelry or otherwise, he will 100% tear up and wear/use/show it off forever. he adores whatever you give him, regardless of what it is.

YOOSUNG KIM:

100% steals your clothes

kind of copies some of your jackets and hoodies, putting his own patches in similar places so you match (though if you do it for him he will never take it off. he's terrified of your work getting messed up if he does, so it's definitely a hassle cleaning it)

his apartment's not all that big, so you both manage to do your own things or work together on projects in his bedroom. when it's not being used, he'll let you stack bead boxes and supplies on his PC (though they will quickly get ((gently)) discarded to the floor when he decides its LOLOL time)

more a fan of "quieter" scene music, though he can absolutely get behind some hyperpop or nightcore

if you make him anything (and i mean anything) he will cry, on the spot, and keep it forever. if it breaks, or tears, he'll put it on his desk and refuse to touch it until you can fix it (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) poor boy feels awful even if its just string snapping from being worn too much

definitely tries his hand at Kandi making for a few months and ultimately lets it fade out like the majority of his intrests

JUMIN HAN:

not a giant fan of the music but he admires the effort you put into your projects

will beg you and beg you to make Elizabeth accessories, and after that it's

"well, she can't be alone, we should have matching bracelets - and colar, in her case - with Elizabeth. ....we should have matching ones, can we have matching ones (Y/N)?"

he will wear it everywhere and shows it to his dad all excited once you make them

"look at what my lovely (husband/wife/spouse) made us, they're very talented. Elizabeth has one too."

always adores anything you give him, no matter how small; it's still a gift, and he cherishes them

gives you a whole room in the penthouse for your work!

he sets it up while you're off with Jaehee or another RFA member, making sure to add posters from your favorite games/shows/movies/ext. he blows so much money on the set-up and is so pleased with himself when he gets your reaction

always makes an effort to resupply anything you're running low on, asked or not.

if you diy any clothes for him he will wear them out, reputation be damned

tries getting you to sell (or at least promote, c'mon y/n) your work at the RFA Parties with V's pictures

has never seen an episode of Invader Zim in his life, probably never will unless you ask, but he thinks gir is cute.

this just in jumin han is a Gir enjoyer

JAEHEE KANG:

like seven, enjoys the more electro side of your music tastes

",,,,if i can ask, can you make me something related to this play zen was in--" his biggest fan even through your work lmao

if you diy her any clothes, those are now her favorite home/sleep clothes

same with jewelry, though she'll find a way to incorporate those into her work outfits so she can subtly show them off

just like the others, admires all of your work every single time. kandi single? "that's so nice, (Y/N)! I love the colors" kandi cuff? "that's very impressive! i like the patterns :)" necklace with a toy connected? pearler? your spin on toy jewelry from a game you had as a kid? doesn't matter, she looks at all of your projects as a whole play of their own. she loves hearing the inspiration behind each peace

her favorite peaces are the ones where your spiel of inspiration is something really simple, like "haha i thought this would look funky, so i made it!" like- that little bit of thought made *this*? she's amazed.

if you make pearlers or things of that nature, and give some to her, she *will* put that on her lanyard. she will find a way.

ZEN/HYUN RYU:

god please make him something, little as it may be, he will never take it off

he has more sense than Yoo if it's clothes, though. just "be careful, (y/n), i know you know how to do it but be careful i really like that one—"

gets all flustered the first few times you give him something you made. some part of his brain cant wrap itself around the fact not only is he with such a wonderful creative person but you're using that creativity on him, he's honored

if you send him anything revolving around "rawr, i love you in dinosaur!! x3" he will seriously start saying Rawr. he wants to tell you he loves you in any way he can, wether that be in korean, english, or dinosaur, he's doing it

he'll humor all of your music, from the most whitenoise sounding hyperpop to stuff like Hollywood Undead. more a fan of nightcore/daycore though

if you make/give him any bracelets he absolutely wears them when he's acting, modeling, performing, exct if he can. he loves showing off your work :)

45 notes · View notes

ososimilar · 3 months

Text

Chapter 4- Sam

AUTHORS NOTE: I cant figure out how to put italics on tumblr so if you want proper format go to AO3

He let me win, why? Sam stood there dumbfounded. Maybe I should just drop it. He tried to shake it off and think about something else. BUT WHY! His thoughts were racing eating away at him. After standing there looking stupid for an embarrassing amount of time Sam began cleaning up. He set up the table, and the pool cues away. Then he put his can of joja cola in the recycling. Before rounding up the 3, 4, 5 empty glasses Seb had drank.

He brought the glasses to the counter, setting them all down with a thud. “Here Gus.” He said as he sat down.

“Thanks bud.” Gus looked at Sam with a warm smile. “Say, Sebastian and Abigail rushed out of here quickly. They grow up so fast. But y'all are about the age to be getting up to stuff like that.” He looked at Sam. “Just be careful.”

“Oh.” Sam hadn’t thought of that. “I will. Its late so I should head home.” He waved goodbye and turned to leave, nodding to Willy and Clint who were sitting at the table by the door. As he pushed open the door he felt a blast of cold wind hit his body. He stepped outside into the moonlit snowy street. What'd he mean by “getting up to stuff like that?” What are they doing? What's happening? Should I go check it out? He turned around and looked in the direction of Sebs place. No, no, he was mad when I worried this morning I should just leave him alone. He turned back and walked home. Gazing up at the stars and looking at the snow covered bushes near the path.

He stopped in front of his house. The lights are still on. If I go inside mom will ask me how things went. He stood there contemplating his next move. Should I sneak through the window? Maybe this is a sign I should go investigate what Seb and Abby are doing. But I trust Abby. He scolded himself for not trusting his friends. Then he spun himself around and trudged off in the other direction. I want to hear the ocean. He trudged down the beach, reaching the point where the snow turned to sand. He took a breath and stepped into the sand. Then walked onto the dock.

He sank into the bench next to Willys boat house. Gazing up at the stars. He began a rhythmic tapping on the bench with his left hand. He took a deep breath. Why do I feel this way? Why am I jealous? It's none of my business what Sebastian does. But why does he let me win? “Ugh, this is exhausting.” Sam let out an audible groan with his frustration.

“Then maybe you should get some sleep, kid.” It was Uncle Willys voice from around the corner. “What are you doing out so late? It's cold out here.” He walked closer to Sam and gestured to the empty spot where Sam had been tapping. “Can I sit here?”

Sam moved his hand and watched Willy sit next to him.

“You know,” he looked at Sam. “Yer pops and I used to sit here and fish every morning when we were yer age. I know it's hard, him being away and all. And yer pals movin’ along without you.” He put his hand on Sam's shoulder. “Yer dad used to sit here, yapping away about this girl he liked. Name was Jodi.” He chucked. “He thought I was trying to date her since our parents were close. But whenever we were together she’d just ask ‘bout him.” He sighed and looked at Sam. “‘ventually he signed up for the military. Jodi was heartbroken and confessed to him. They got hitched and moved away to a military base somewhere, where you were born.” He looked at Sam trying to gauge if Sam understood his point. “Look all’m tryna say is that ya shouldn’t wait till she makes a move, ya gotta do it yourself.” He looked at Sam, hoping for conformation.

Sam nodded. “I understand. Thanks Uncle Willy.” Does he think I like Abby? Is that why I’m jealous? No, I've never thought of babies that way.

“Well, don't stay out too late pal. Im gonna hit the sack.” He stood up, patted Sam on the back, and walked toward the door. “Goodnight.” He walked inside and closed the door.

Sam sat there in silence. Listening to the waves, and the wind. Taking in the sounds, and the moonlight reflecting off the ocean. Someone could write a song about this. He resumed rapping his fingers on the bench. Just describe the environment, the story. He reminded himself of the advice Penny had given him when he asked for advice on songwriting.

In the silence I can hear the waves

But they are drowned out by my thoughts of you

The waves reflect light, from the moon and the stars,

Though they're not the brightest thing in the night

My thoughts of you, the Image in my head

Of the boy that I want in my bed

You were there the other day and we laughed about

The size of my bed and the the stupid action movie I put on

Sam tapped away, as he thought of these lyrics. It wasn't the type of music he thought he'd wanted to write, it was… what did Penny call this type of song? Free poetry? Free verse! That's it. He continued.

My uncle told me to confess

But I can't even confess it to myself

I should tell my father, in the church on sunday

The boy that took over my thoughts, turned my brain to a warzone

Hey there, boy in my head

He's real I think

My childhood friend

Not the one I thought it'd be

The boy

Who opened up to me

He stopped tapping. Do I like Sebastian? Is that why I'm jealous? But I used to have a crush on Emily, I can't be gay. He shivered and stood up, running home to write down the lyrics he'd just come up with

#sam stardew valley #sebastian stardew valley #stardew valley #stardew valley fic #winterstar lovers

2 notes · View notes

artaxerxesthegreat · 2 years

Text

It All Started With a Smile

A/N: I love the Lost Boys-- I'm a hoe for them, I'm not sorry. This is a Poly!Lost Boys x Adopted!EmersonOC, might be a series, but there will definitely be a part 2. I hope you guys like it. I also used Google to find the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, and it's up for digital download if y'all are interested. I used pages 50-51.

A/N2: This OC is a WOC, again I'm not sorry.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, Cursing, second hand stealing, not beta read, hints at a boner (ya gotta squint to see it lol), OC is a bit annoying but who isn't, We really only meet Marko (teehee)

Word Count: 9787

(GIF by @jordanlahey)

MINORS DNI!!!!

Chapter 1

“Well, kiddo, how was the trip?” Glancing up from my book, I pull my headset off, giving grandpa a questioning look, “Didn’t hear me, did ya?”

“Sorry, Papa E.” I give him a sheepish smile, book marking my page, as I sit up on my bed motioning for him to sit as well, “You now have my full attention.”

“Just wondering how you liked the trip over here.” He gives me one of his rare smiles, as he takes a peak at my book, “Homeric Hymn to Demeter, eh? Getting some light reading done before the semester starts?”

I can’t stop the smile that finds its way to my face as I admire the worn book cover, “Something like that, yeah… but I already graduated, remember?”

“Oh, yeah… It’s this growing old business, I tell ya. Don’t do it!” Papa Emerson furrowed his brow staring at a spot on the floor, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the look on his face, which caused him to give me a questioning glance before he started laughing himself. After a few moments, we clam down, and he pats my knee, smiling as he does.

“That was a good laugh, but as far as growing old goes, I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s true. Can’t live forever.” There’s something odd about what he said, almost as if he doesn’t actually believe it. I can’t help but look at Papa’s face questioningly, as he gazes back at that spot on the floor. A beat of silence passes between us, and before I can question his words, it’s broken by Sam and Michael running down the stairs.

“Those boys are going to tear my house apart.” There’s a grumble in Papa E’s voice as he casts his eyes to my closed door, sending his own hard glare through– like he’s willing those two idiots to stop. Chuckling, I shake my head at his antics, nudging his shoulder.

“Gramps, no matter how hard you glare at the door, and try to send a telepathic command to those buffoons, they’ll never stop… Unless, you know, they break something.” I sigh as I hear Sam’s muffled yell coming from downstairs, and Michael’s panicked voice as the sound of glass reaches our ears, “See.”

“BOYS!” Mom isn’t one to yell– not to me anyway– but when she’s had enough of the bullshit, she’ll let you know, and right now, she’s done with Sam and Mikey, “If you aren’t going to help, go expel all the energy outside.”

Papa E sighs deeply, rubbing his face as he worries about what just broke. Getting up, I walk to my door, glancing out, mom’s already found the dustpan and started cleaning up the broke mug.

“It’s alright Pops, it was one of the mugs I made in ceramics a while back.” Shrugging, I sit back down, smiling at him, “I made it for dad, but I guess it wasn’t something he cared for since it's here.”

“You know, your mother is the only woman I know, that gets the worst deal out of a divorce.” Grandpa looks up at me and laughs at the deadpan look I give him.

“Well, she married a dick, whaddaya expect?... Plus, she’s just so… so…” Sneering at my hands, I try to think of the right word, thankfully grandpa pitches in.

“Nice?”

“Yes! Like that bastard made your life miserable! Be angry, have rage! You’re entitled to it!” I don’t even try to hide my own distaste for mom’s civil approach to everything, “I don’t understand why– or how she’s so calm about all this?! He basically kicked us out of the house, because he isn’t man enough to go work and find his own place to stay.” By now, I’m pacing around my room, throwing my arms around, glaring at an invisible person as I give them a piece of my mind, “Like, dude, you kicked out your OWN KIDS! If I ever see his face again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Seems like you’re picking up the slack on that anger.” Papa E, has an awkward kind of smile, as he watches me with raised brows, “How do the boys feel about this?”

Sighing, I sit back down, picking at the threads of my ripped jeans, “Sammy is only 14 and has this thought that if it doesn’t work out here, we’ll go back to Phoenix, and dad will magically take us back… and Michael… Mike thinks he’s unbothered, cool, and in control of his very fragile 17-year-old life. I think he thinks that if he doesn’t talk about it, it's not going to bother him, but it does– it bugs the hell out of all of us. I can hide it better, but this is Mikey’s own father. How do you just roll with the thought of your own father dumping you and making you fend for yourself?... That piece of shit.”

“Hey.” Grandpa gives me face for my language, to which I apologize for, “... Well, I suppose I can’t be too hard on you… You’ve always been my favorite.”

Laughing, I lightly push his shoulder, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I helped you with your taxidermy when I was 7, would it?”

“... Maybe…?”

“Oh geez Gramps.” Sharing a chuckle, I recall when mom found the two of us in his ‘secret red room’ and totally flipped because my skin was turning red from the formaldehyde. On top of that, my throat got super irritated, and I was grounded, forbidden, and banned from Gramps’ workshop– by mom, “Remember when mom came in looking for me, and her eyes totally fell on the floor from how red I looked–”

“-- HA! Do I ever– and I said, ‘Lucy, relax, we’re in a red lit room course she’s going to look red’.”

“Oh my god, YES! And she pulled me out into the living room, then grandma came in from the kitchen, wondering what all the fuss was about.”

“... Yup… She wasn’t too happy.” He lightly chuckles at the memory of grandma walking out in a dirty apron and a wooden spoon with cookie dough on it, then the calm expression on her face morphing to extreme panic. She also ‘grounded’ Grandpa, but not before giving him an earful about responsibility and how not to let children play with dangerous chemicals.

He was banned from his red room for the next 4 weeks; so he taught me to ride a horse instead… and that is its own can of worms. Let's just say that mom freaks whenever I’m close to a horse.

“I had so much fun, though, I was so annoyed that they weren’t listening to me.”

“Yeah, well, they were just looking out for you. You can’t blame them for doting on you, you’re the only girl, after all.” Papa E gives me a gentle smile as I all but forget my previous anger.

“That’s true.” A comfortable silence fills the space as we sit side by side, then I hear the faint sounds of the horses neighing, “... Can I go ride a horse?”

“What?!” Grandpa snaps his head to me so quickly, I thought he gave himself whiplash for a second, I can’t stop the snort from the look on his face, “And give your mother another conniption, no, thank you. I plan to live the rest of my days as stress-free as I possibly can.”

“Ah, come on!” I smile widely at him as he gets up, disgruntled, and making his way to my door, “~It’ll be fun~.”

“No.” He points a finger at me sternly, but I still smile at him, mischief dancing in my eyes, “I mean it, Alex. Give your mother a break.”

Losing my smile, I nod my head, picking up my book, “Fine, I’ll just do some more ‘light reading’ then.”

“What about unpacking?”

“I’ll do it later.”

Laying down, I hold up my book, feeling bored and less enthused about the move. I’m not even reading what’s on the page, just aimlessly flipping through, wondering how in the hell am I going to make living here worth it.

I could get a job to help mom out, but Mike said there wasn’t anything legal around. How does Papa E pay the bills? He’s been retired for ages, but he owns a good bit of land, he has to have some way to keep the lights on, and feed not only himself but the horses also… He does have all that weed in the back…

“Maybe there’s a kitchen hiring?... Nah, that’s not happening, I don’t even like washing my own dishes. Damn, this growing up stuff is hard.” I huff out, slamming my book down on my lap. Turning on my side, I stare at my ‘Return of the Jedi’ poster, “What would Yoda do?... Okay, well, I’m not living in the swamp, so that’s out. Can’t join the ‘Living Force’ either… I could do a Princess Leia and kill my pimp, haha! Yeah, that sounds like a great time… Nanook’s my Chewbacca.--”

“--Knock, knock.” Sitting up on my elbows, I’m greeted with my mom’s serene face, peeking in through my doorway, “Hey Pumpkin, I saw your door was open.”

“It seems that everyone forgets to close it once they leave.” I roll my eyes, but motion for her to enter. I don’t miss her ‘subtly’ looking around my room– one Return of the Jedi poster, a stack of boxes in the corner, a few clothes hanging in the closet, a suitcase open and messy, a half filled bookshelf, a pair of boots, flip-flops, and 4 pairs of sneakers thrown about the room, “At least I started… and made my bed. Did the boys even make their beds?”

Mom playfully rolls her eyes at me, sitting on my bed with a bounce, “No they didn’t, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then, pray tell, O’ dear mother of mine: Why hast thou entered mine sacred domain?” Mom lets out a small laugh at the way I dramatically lower my voice, answering in a high-pitched one in return.

“I have come to inquire, if thou– O’ Great One, wishes to be in attendance with thine brothers and I for a trip to the boardwalk?”

“Eh, sounds crowded.” Grinning at mom, I give her a light shrug.

“They have games.” She presses.

“Sounds loud.” I deflate slightly, losing my smile.

“Food?” She offers.

“Sounds like a stomach ache.” I grimace.

“... Boys?” She’s grasping at straws.

“Boys you say?” I’m intrigued, “Tell me more.”

“Oh you.” She hits my leg, and I laugh at her growing smile. Shaking her head, she continues, “I’m going to be looking for work, but I figured it would be a good time for you and the boys to go out and have some fun… So, would you like to come with us?”

“... Sure, someone needs to watch those two.”

“Thank you, but I just want you all to have fun, make some friends.”

“Mom… Me? Make friends? I haven’t ‘made’ friends since I was 10 years old. Besides, friends are so overrated.”

“Oh, pooh.” She swings the pillow at me, hitting the top of my head. Smiling, I dramatically fall back on the bed, “Come on, get ready, your majesty.”

“But I am ready.” I look down at my very wrinkled Queen t-shirt.

“Alex. You really what to wear those clothes?” She wrinkles her nose at my day-old clothes, then starts rummaging through my suitcase, “What about this? You’ll look so cute!”

“Mom, I hate pink… Plus, I think that’s yours.” We both tilt our heads to the side, looking at the blouse.

“Oh! This is mine. How’d it end up in your clothes?”

“I dunno.” Getting up, I pull out a cropped black and purple striped bowling shirt, “How ‘bout this, with the acid washed jeans, and… hmm… these paint splattered converse?”

“Very nice… Wait, isn’t that your father’s shirt?”

Chuckling, I look at the cut shirt with pride, “Yeah, but after it met my scissors in an unfortunate accident it became mine.”

“Oh, Alex!” Mom gives me a disapproving stare, before she smiles, “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Duh, everything does.” Tossing the shirt on the bed, I search for my towel, “Thought we’ve been over this before, mom?”

“Silly me, I must’ve forgotten.” Leaning against my door frame, she keeps her smile pointing at my leather jacket, “Remember to bring a jacket, it gets a little chilly here at night.”

“It’s like we never left Arizona.” Mom chortles at my joke, as I press a kiss to her cheek. Making my way to the boys' bathroom, I add, “I’ll be ready in 15.”

………

“So you think mom will be able to find a job in this hellhole?” I spare Michael a glance, waiting for his answer as we work our way through the crowd on the boardwalk. Part of me wishes I just stayed with mom while she did her job hunting, but I know she’d shoo me away to ‘go have fun’ and to ‘be young and happy’.

God bless that woman.

“Dunno, maybe. I hope so.” He tugs his jacket tightly around himself, as we brush past people, who are trying to get a good spot on the beach. He watches our surroundings like a hawk tugging Sam out of the way every now and again as people aimlessly walk around, probably trying to pickpockets as they bump shoulders with everyone, “If not, we need to get jobs.”

“Yeah, we know how much you guys hate working.” Sammy gives us a playful sneer, and I shove him lightly ruffling his hair in the process, “Hey! Watch it, Alex!”

“You’re such a drama queen, Sammy.” I chuckle, rolling my eyes at our younger brother.

“Am not!” Sam tries to punch my arm, but I take a big step forward, making him punch Mike instead. He gives Michael a sheepish look before running ahead of us, tugging on one of my braids in the process.

“Whatever.” I glare at Sam as he sticks his tongue out at me, while I lightly hit Mike’s chest and point to the different stands on the boardwalk, “I’m gonna go check those out.”

“What about the concert?” Sam’s face is full of childlike concern, as he looks a bit disappointed that I’m “ditching” them, “I promise not to tug on your braids again.”

“Yeah, you better, but I’ll be a few minutes, alright?” I look at the growing crowd making its way to the beach, slightly grimacing, “‘Sides, you know how I feel about crowds. If anything, I’ll be up here, and I’ll be able to see you guys just fine.”

“Alright, just be careful. Come find us if anything weird happens.” I smile at Mike’s words with amusement as he looks down at me, face completely serious, “I mean it, Alex.”

“Yeah, remember, we’re living in ‘The Murder Capital of the World’ now.” Sam smirks at me with raised brows as I playfully roll my eyes at him, turning to walk away.

“Alex.” I groan at the ‘mother hen’ tone Mike gives me, making me stop to turn and look at him, unamused.

“Okay mom.” I sass turning on my heel making my way to the stalls.

I take my time perusing the jewelry, clothes racks, and knickknacks spread across the different tables and stalls. One piece of jewelry catches my eye, when I hear someone let out a whimper, looking to my right I see a boy just got his septum pierced and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Smirking, I walk over to the very open and not up to code piercing stall and watch as the boy admires his new bling.

“That’s a rip-off, you know.” A voice says in my ear, making me move away from the sudden voice with annoyance heavy in my features. I’m met with a grinning boy with hazel eyes, with blonde curly hair, in the most… interesting jacket I’ve ever seen— in fact his whole choice of wardrobe is interesting, definitely bold, that’s for sure.

His grin never leaves, but he ends up putting his gloved thumb in his mouth as he waits for me to say something, giving him another once over I tone down my attitude giving him a nod.

“No, duh. If I wanted an infection, I wouldn’t pay $30 to some guy on the boardwalk; not when I can do that at home for free.” Looking back at the piercing stand, I shake my head in disappointment as three girls get ready to get holes placed in their lobes, “Nah, if I want to get more piercings Imma just go to a tattoo shop.” I let out a light huff, flicking my braids over my shoulder, flashing my various piercings. The boy's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as I send him a smirk. Turning on my heel, I continue to walk around the stalls, smiling at the sound of heavy footfalls chasing after me. Raising a brow, I send a quick glance over my shoulder as the boy crowds into my space once he catches up with me, “Personal space is a new concept for you, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer, just smiles widely, moving closer into my space before backing off. His eyes never leave mine during that entire interaction and under normal circumstances I would’ve freaked out, but something about this seems… far from normal, that and I was feeling adventurous. Not really the best feeling to have in the ‘Murder Capital of the World’, but I’m sure it’s fine.

“You’re new here.” It wasn't a question.

“Uh, yeah. How’d you know?” I squint at him, leaning away from him, making him chuckle at the look on my face. By now, the concert is in full swing and the fourth song plays over the speakers, making it more difficult to even hear yourself think, let alone someone else talking.

“Haven’t seen you before.” He shrugs his shoulders, moving closer to me again, causing me to continue to try to have some kind of distance between us. Just because I can’t hear him, doesn’t mean he needs to walk closer, he could just raise his voice.

“And you’ve seen everyone in Santa Carla?” I raise a brow at him as he slowly pushes us to the darker and more secluded parts of the boardwalk. Spinning on my heel, I turn back around, walking to where we just came from.

“Where ya goin’?” He catches up to me quickly, walking behind me. I stop abruptly, making him collide into my back; I have no idea how fast he was walking to catch up to me, but I wasn’t expecting to lose my balance and fall forward from it. Thankfully, he has quick reflexes and grabs my waist, halting my fall, “You alright, girl?”

“Peachy, boy.” My face is stern as I glare up at him, but that damn grin is still on his face– like he just hit the jackpot. Like this I can appreciate his features more; his smooth skin, the chisel of his jaw, the hook of his Romanesque nose, his big doe eyes— that at first glance seem innocent, but upon further inspection show mischief and danger. As the music continues to blast over the speaker, he begins swaying us to the music. He may not be the tallest or strongest looking guy ever, but that doesn’t mean anything; I can feel the strength behind his hands that seem to hold me closer to him, making me feel… the rest of him.

“Maybe I’m imagining that.” Turning to look up at him, my eyes jump from his lips to his eyes; before I look up at him through my dark lashes, “Or maybe not…”

Placing my hands over his gloved ones, I intertwine them, pulling them off of me and walk out of his grasp. He rolls his eyes at me as I flash him a wide smile, walking back to the stalls.

“I need to buy something.” I jog over to the table searching for the piece I saw earlier and let out a triumphant laugh as I pick up a small gold skull charm, “Sweet.”

The boy comes behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder, blinking at the charm with a furrowed brow. I hate to admit it, but he’s getting cuter by the minute, and it’s getting hard to think clearly with all this touchy-feely couple shit.

“You like skulls?” He takes the charm out of my hands, looking at it closely before looking back at me.

“Yeah, I like a lot of things, skulls is just one of them. You don’t know me, so I don’t know why you’re surprised.” Chuckling, I take the charm back, giving it to the vendor who bags it, but not before she shifts her gaze between the boy and me. I give her a questioning glance, but she busies herself with the other things on her table, ignoring us completely, “Weird.”

“So, what’s something a girl like you likes?” His voice pulls back my attention as he reaches a hand out to play with one of my braids. Quickly, I pull my head back and holding his wrist in a tight grip.

“A girl like me?” All friendliness is gone from my demeanor as I give him a warning glare, “Don’t touch my hair… unless you want me touching yours.”

All he does is smirk, and hold his hands up in mock surrender, but something in his eyes tells me he understands not wanting to have a random person touch your hair.

Continuing my perusing, I’m accompanied by my ‘golden noodle haired shadow’ who seems to have a reputation of sorts here, as people move out of our way, with the most apprehensive faces I’ve ever seen.

“So are you gonna keep following me or don’t have someone else you can bother?” I muse, sending the boy a glance over my shoulder. He keeps his eyes on me like a man on a mission, grinning as he does.

“Why? You tryin’ to get rid of me?” His smile grows at the playful eye roll I give him. Shrugging my shoulders, and slowing down my pace, so we walk next to each other, I link my arm with his. I don’t know why I did it, I just did, and he seemed to tense for a moment before relaxing as we walked at a leisurely pace.

“You know, I could get rid of you, but I figure why not get a tour from someone who seems to know this place like the back of their hand? Plus, I get the feeling you know where all the cool jewelry is.” Giving him a grin of my own, he nods his head in excitement, tugging me to all the small shops lining the boardwalk.

By the time we reach the last shop, I have four bags holding my precious treasures; the great majority of the pieces I bought are going to be made into necklaces, bracelets, and/or earrings– it’s a bonding activity my mom started with me when I was 8. It helps relax us and take our minds off of the stress in our lives, unfortunately during my parent's divorce, we haven’t been able to make or mend any pieces for the past 2 years.

My smile is bright and cheery as we make our way to the railing on the boardwalk, overlooking the sea of people headbanging and dancing to a very oiled up man playing a saxophone. I can’t stop the face that I make, taking in the man’s appearance, with wide eyes I glance at the boy who just laughs leaning against the railing.

“I mean, whatever floats his boat, I guess… He’s got the body for it.” Tilting my head, I trail my eyes over the performer's body, admiring the chains adorning his neck and waist, “Just wasn’t expecting the hip thrusts though.”

We share a laugh as I look over the sea of people, to find my brothers. Sucking my teeth, I turn around, scanning the ever-growing crowd. Furrowing my brows, I take a few steps forward until I’m stopped by a hand on my wrist, looking behind me, I raise my brow at the boy.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were tryin’ to ditch me.”

“Who me?” I feign ignorance as the boy squints his eyes at me, chuckling I shake my head at him, “Dude, I can’t ‘ditch’ you when I don’t even know you.”

“Marko.” Not breaking eye contact, he gently tugs me back to him.

“Really?” I scrunch my face, looking him up and down, “You don’t strike me as a ‘Marko’.”

“What do I strike you as?” There are goosebumps on my arms, as he rubs the top of my knuckles with his thumb. He begins leaning his head down towards me, but I pull back, looking up at him with a coy smile.

“I don’t know, but it sure wasn’t Marko.” The sounds of the boardwalk seem to melt into white noise as we simply stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. My eyes track his, and almost like magic I’m being pulled into those hazel pools– Oh man, if my brothers could see me now.

“Oh shit, I need to find them!” Blinking quickly, I take my hand back shaking off the haze I was in, “Well that was weird…”

Marko pouts slightly, but doesn’t make any more moves, much to my disappointment. Sighing, I rock on my heels awkwardly looking around, “Alright, well it’s been real, and it’s been fun, but I gotta go. So… bye…?”

Marko gives me a smirk as he watches me shift around, “So you are tryin’ to ditch me.”

“Well, I’m not, not trying to ditch you.” Scratching the back of my neck, “But I need to find my brothers, which means we then need to find our mom, so unless you want to meet her this is where we part ways, I’m afraid.” My tone is light and teasing as we start walking through the crowd aimlessly.

“If I meet yours, you met mine.” Marko lightly bumps his shoulder with mine, causing me to laugh at the action, “You’ll have more fun too.”

“Oh?” My questioning glance is meet with a proud smile.

“Mhmm, guaranteed F-U-N.” He drapes his arm over my shoulders, laying his chin on top of my head.

“Oooo he can spell!” Placing my hand on my chest in faux shock, I’m given a scoff and light shove.

“Shut up.” Marko rolls his eyes, but is smiling as he looks at everyone but me; it’s like he’s shy, but he doesn’t seem like the type.

“Well, maybe I can meet them next time.” Shrugging my shoulders, I stop walking, looking around the crowd for my brothers; then I spot Sam’s weird coat thing, “He wears the weirdest shit.”

My eyes shift to Marko, as I pause for a moment, “And Sammy isn’t the only one.”

“What’s so funny?” He squints his eyes at me, making me shrug and look away from him. He didn’t seem to like that, and grasps my shoulder, turning me to face him. Putting my hands up, I give him my best poker face.

“Nothin’.” I try to hide my growing smile from Marko by looking back into the crowd again. Sam looks so lost as he spins in circles, possibly looking for Mike. “Look, I gotta go, but maybe I’ll see you around?”

“I’m here every night.” He’s thrown out his line.

“That so?” And I’m the dumb fish swimming to the bait.

“It is. Maybe next time I can show you the sights.” Oh yeah, I’m a dumb fish.

“I thought I already saw the sights?” I trail my eyes over his form slowly and deliberately, when I lock eyes with him, his expression lets me know that he understood my hidden meaning.

I may have taken the bait, but he wasn’t expecting a catch this weighty.

Taking a few choice steps towards me, he stops when his chest touches mine. Tilting his head, he looks down at me with hooded eyes, “You liked ‘the sights’?”

“Oh sure! Why do you think I’ll be back tomorrow night?” I raise my chin up to him, giving him a sly smile, “How many brothers did you say you have?”

“Three.”

“Awesome, hopefully I can see three more sights.” I pause for a moment looking over Marko’s face with concern, “Just out of curiosity, how old are you– like, you are over 18… right?”

“You have no idea.” His words were mumbled, but I heard them clearly as I give him an unsure smile.

“What was that?”

He smirks at my questioning gaze, “I’m 19.”

“Oh sweet!... And your brother’s…?”

He sighs, raising his eyes to glance at the sky, like this was the dumbest line of questioning he’s ever been through, “I’m the youngest, so everyone else is as old as shit.”

“HA! My brothers feel the same about me. Speaking of my brothers, I really need to go find them. Til we meet again, Young Marko.” Grabbing his hand, I kiss the top of his gloved knuckles, giggling at his wide-eyed face, “See ya on the flip side, dude.”

With a skip in my step, I creep up behind Sammy, slamming my hands on his shoulders– scaring the poor kid– smiling gleefully at him.

“Alex!” He places his hand on his chest as he takes a deep breath, “Oh geez, you scared me. I thought you were someone else.”

“My bad, bro. You headed somewhere?” I give him some space before we walk side by side.

“Yeah, I found a comic shop! I figured you’d want to come.”

“Hell yeah, dude. Let’s go– wait, where’s Mikey?” I look around the crowd, trying to find Michael’s jacket.

“He’s following some girl.” Sam rolls his eyes, making his way through the crowd, while I’m stuck in place gapping like a fish. Once his words sink in completely, I run after him.

“What do you mean, ‘he’s following some girl’? Why is he doing that? Did he forget where we moved to?! Why am I related to an idiot?” Sam laughs at my words, giving me a look I’ve seen too many times to count, “I know I’m adopted, damn, you don’t have to keep reminding me.”

Wrapping his arms around, Sam rests his chin on my shoulder, “Adopted or not, you’re still my older, sassy, cool, and annoying sister, and I love you no matter what.”

“Alright, alright, let me go. People are starting to stare.” I glance around the crowd, feeling out of place and self-conscious about Sammy’s display of affection. Just because we were raised together, doesn’t mean everyone else knows that– it wouldn’t be much of a problem if we were the same race, but one look at us, and you know we aren’t ‘brother and sister’. Sure, Sammy and Mike don’t look alike, but both take after their parents… and I take after mine. Growing up was very interesting, but I wouldn’t trade my doofus brothers for the world.

Let’s just say, I add more… color to their lives.

“Let them. I’m hugging my sister, a few stares from random assholes isn’t going to change that.”

And they add color to mine.

I snap my head, staring at him with wide eyes, “Ooooo you cursed. I’m telling mom.”

“What?! You curse all the time!” He lets me go, glowering at me.

“Yeah, but I’m an adult, I can.” Flicking his forehead, I hand him two of my bags, “I won’t tell mom if you carry these two bags.”

“... You’re a slave driver, you know that, Alex?” He grumbles, but takes the bags.

“Consider it penance for my people.” I lightly shove him forward, as he stares at me with his mouth hanging open, “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

“What’re in these bags, bricks?” Sam opens one of the bags, peering inside with furrowed brows, “Why is it so heavy? It’s just jewelry?”

“It’s not that heavy, Sam. I only got a few pieces.” Rolling my eyes at his whining, I start feeling the weight of my own two bags… and they are kinda weighty. Stopping at a picnic table, we place the bags down looking at the contents, “Okay, so I bought a bunch of little skulls, feather charms, an assortment of beads, a few chains, and patches– wait, patches?”

I pull out three stacks of random patches ranging from hellfire and skulls, to crude innuendos.

“You also got stickers– ooooo, you better not let mom see these.” Sam holds up a sticker with a topless lady sticking her forked tongue out. Snatching the sticker from him, I quickly put it back in the bag. He looks at me, unimpressed, and the way he crosses his arms, makes him look just like mom.

“I didn’t buy these!” Gazing in another bag, I see that it has rings, bracelets, and a few earrings. Saying that I’m feeling confused is an understatement, “I don’t understand, I don’t remember…” I feel Sam’s eyes on me as I try hard to remember if I did actually pay for any of this shit. Then it hits me, “That little bastard.”

“Who?”

“Nothin’, c’mon, I’ll deal with this later.” Gathering my bags, we continue our trek to the comic shop. Once we reach, we smile at each other like the nerdy little idiots we are and go our separate ways– Sam goes right to Superman, and I go to X-Men.

All my attention is placed on finding a new comic to add to my collection, but as I pick up comic after comic, my enthusiasm is slowly fading at the inconsistency of the comic placements. It’s like they were haphazardly placed, or just put down next to the comic that “looked” like it belonged to. Scoffing, I toss the comics back, annoyed that whoever did this, literally had one job, and they couldn’t do it. Turning around, I scan for Sam, wondering if he’s having the same problem I am; with wide eyes, I see that he has a whole different problem.

Two boys, around his height and age, are basically accosting him, as he probably tells them, he isn’t looking for trouble. Gritting my teeth, I make my way over to them, ready to fight these two little bastards if I have to– and seeing this is the ‘Murder Capital of the World’, I just might have to.

“What’s going on here?” Crossing my arms, I stare down the two boys, who jump at the sound of my voice. They move closer to each other, glancing between each other and my brother. The one with brown hair squints his eyes at me, sizing me up, before speaking– in the MOST ridiculous voice– taking a step towards me.

“This is a private conversation, it doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, I think it does.” I hate when I speak like this because I sound like such a mother, but sometimes that’s the only way to make children listen to you– and listen, they did. Both boys blink in mild fear and confusion as Sam sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. And that’s when I catch a glimpse of the comic in Sammy’s hands, “Oh, hell no. No way, no how.”

Holding my hand out, he places the comic down, giving the boys an ‘I told you so’ face, “I told them I don’t do horror comics.”

“And they still pushed this on you?” I’m annoyed– you can hear it clear as day– jutting out my hip, I place the comic down on top of the Superman comics, “Let’s learn a life lesson, shall we boys? When someone says ‘no’, don’t go and pester them, or push them into doing something they don’t want, or like. If you’re not careful, you might wind up in the pokey. Thankfully you two are young and can learn from this mistake,” Stepping forward, I jab them both in the chest, giving them a warning, “Don’t make it again.”

A few seconds of silence go by as the two glance at each other, nodding back at me. Smiling oh so sweetly, I beckon for Sam to follow outside.

“Okay, but I still haven’t gotten a comic I want yet.”

“Ugh, Sam.” Turning around, I tilt my head at him, as he pouts at me. Rolling my eyes, I hang my head, defeated, “Alright, get your effing comic, but be quick about it.”

As I turned away from the trio, I couldn’t help but hear the sounds of harsh whispering that sounded along the lines of ‘who is that’, ‘are you in danger’, and ‘she’s scary’. All of which brought a smile to my face, because let’s face it, when an Afro-Latin American woman tells you off, it’s scary as hell.

They are so lucky I can’t speak Spanish, I would’ve cursed them up and down until the coqui’s came home. Glancing at them from over my shoulder, I see that Sam does seem to be searching for a comic, but those boys are still trying to push the horror comic on him again. Growling, I get ready to tell them off, when I see movement out of the corner of my eye; turning to see what it is, it’s a group of people guffawing loudly, almost like they were intoxicated. Furrowing my brows, I watch as they laugh and sneer at… me, I guess… but they’re also eyeing the comics in the cart next to them.

“Uhm, do you know who works here?” I keep my eyes on the group of people, while speaking to the boys over my shoulder.

“Us. Why?” A part of me wants to keep quiet about what’s about to happen due to the amount of suspicion coming from ‘Baby Rambo’, but swallowing my pride, I point at the group.

“I think they’re–” I jump at the yell that came from the seemingly quiet, dark haired boy.

“--HEY, WAIT!” He takes off at the group with Baby Rambo in tow, “COME BACK, YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR THOSE!”

Puffing out my cheeks, I turn to Sam, who’s just as lost as I am. Not knowing what else to do, I point to the exit, “Wanna go home now?”

“Yes, please.” His voice is heavy as he shakes his head at what we just witnessed. I ruffle his hair, making him swat at me again, laughing I put my hands up in surrender, successfully lightning the mood.

“So where do you think Michael is?” My mind is going through a bunch of different scenarios as to what could’ve happened to Michael following a random girl on the boardwalk.

“Not sure, but if we see a girl running for her life, I think that means we found him.” We share a laugh, wiping our imaginary tears. Catching my breath, I pause for a moment, seeing a blur of blonde move through the crowd. Trying to see through the crowd, I lose sight of the blonde hair, frowning, I look back at Sam, but he’s not next to me anymore. Fear lurches in my chest as I look around for my baby brother, but instant relief washes over me when I spot him AND Michael. Breathing out a sigh, I walk over to them, hands in my pockets, “There you are, c’mon let’s go.”

Walking ahead of them, I hear Sammy chuckle, “She stiffed ya man, let’s go.”

At this I freeze, look over my shoulder with a face Sam describes as “The Joker”; basically, my eyes get wide with glee, and my smile is board line insane– according to Sam, but this is the same kid who thinks monsters live in his closet still. I’ll admit, it isn’t the most innocent of smiles, and it can be a bit creepy, but I just hit the ‘blackmail jackpot’! Who wouldn’t have an insane smile on their face, when they find the reason their brother’s being a total creep; I mean, just wait until mom hears about this!

Not moving from my spot, I reign in “The Joker” smile, glancing between Michael and the girl. She’s cute, with big brown doe eyes, even bigger brown curly hair, and she has a sweet kind of smile on her face, almost flirtatious, as she looks Mike up and down; but her smile fades away when she sees me. Raising a brow at her, I give her a smile of my own, sizing her up– unfortunately, the rest of her is blocked by a dude in all black.

Moving my attention to him, I can’t stop but smirk at the white hair he has; he gives me a once over, seemingly annoyed by my presence. At that moment Sam moves to my side, whispering something to me in my ear, but I wasn’t paying attention– he was giggling too much, and White Hair was staring at me hard. I’m not one to back down from a challenge, so I stared back just as fiercely. He shifts his gaze between Sam and I, and I guess something clicked, because the hardness in his eyes softens, and he smiles at me.

My own gaze softens as well, but instead of smiling, I squint at him, because that was a random 180, and nothing good comes from those. The sound of revving engines gets my attention, and I realize that there are more people with this duo. A brooding brunette with a child sitting on the back of his bike, who seems to be yelling at the person next to them, but that person isn’t paying any attention to the small boy; the reason being because they’re staring at me.

I’m greeted with an all too familiar grin, and mischievous hazel eyes; my eyes widen slightly at the sight of Marko, and that’s when I look over the group again. Locking eyes with Marko again, his smile confirms my unspoken thought.

These are his brothers.

He gives me a small nod, switching his gaze between Sam and Michael, I give him a lopsided grin, and a mild head bob, making him chuckle as he turns his gaze to the other blonde next to him– and this guy is… Woooo, I don’t think words can describe him. He has wild blonde hair, a black jacket, black mesh top, THE dirtiest white pants known to man, and seems to be headbanging like there’s no tomorrow.

… Huh, I described him… Sweet.

Shaking my head, I look back at Michael who is still staring at this girl like a love struck fool, and I don’t stop my eye roll. I’m never going to let him live this down– EVER! Looking down at my sneakers, I walk over to stand next to Michael, place my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it harshly. His tenses up, wincing as he finally acknowledges my existence… Well, the look on his face says that he had no idea I was there in the first place, so I give him the same look, only mockingly.

“What? Did you forget about me?” I send little glances to the girl, as she watches us with curious eyes, “That cuts deep, dude.” Michael gives the girl a sheepish, and embarrassed look as he brushes my hand off of him, and being the older sister I am, I’m going to take it a step further, “Wow, you don’t want me to touch you? That’s a first. Guess that means I won’t be sleeping in your room tonight then, huh?”

He snaps his head at me, cheeks turning red, with pleading eyes– to be fair, the last time Michael and I slept in the same room was when I was 10, and we shared a bunk bed, but these guys don’t need to know that.

So with a triumphant smirk, we watch as White Hair, snickers at Michael, and speeds off of the boardwalk with his gang in tow. Poor Michael, stands there, watching with a crestfallen face as the bikes disappear from our sights. Leaning on my hip, I sigh, watching with him for a few seconds before looking up at him.

“You know they aren’t coming back, just because you look so pathetic.”

“Shut up, Alex.” He sneers at me, bringing a smile to my face as Sam and I watch him stomp off. I nudge Sam, wiggling my eyebrows at him, “Watch this.” Sam looks at me expectantly, as I clear my throat, smiling, “~They’ll be back tomorrow night~!”

Mike stops in his tracks, looking at me over his shoulder with untrusting eyes. Sam laughs that the sudden interest Mike has now, and I smile as Mike’s face morphs into hope. He rushes back over to us, tightly holding my arms, he begins to shake me back and forth.

“Wait, they are?! How do you know?! Do you know her?! Did you talk to her?! What’s she–”

“Whoa, WHOA! Slow down, Lover Boy! Let’s just say I have a reliable resource.” I shake Mike off of me, smoothing out my jacket.

“Who?”

I frown at my brothers as they ask the same question almost in sync, “‘Who?’ What’re you guys? Owls?” Shaking my head, I walk ahead of them towards the exit, “Never mind who; c’mon let’s go find mom.”

Finding mom proved to be easier than we originally thought, because she was already waiting for us in the parking lot, as we neared the car, Sam started to tease Mike about how he struck out with Big Brown Doe Eyes. Mike retaliated by flicking Sam’s forehead and getting into the front seat before him. Sam whines about it, until I whisper in his ear.

“Let him have this, we have blackmail on our side.”

Sam’s face looks like it’s about to split in two from his smile, we side into the backseat, and mom looks at us with her sweet smile that crinkles around her eyes when something wonderful happens.

“I see smiles, did you all have fun?” Her voice is way more chipper than it’s been since we arrived in Santa Carla.

“Yeah, something like that.” I glance at the back of Mike’s head, as he glares at us from the rearview mirror. Looking back at mom, I incline my head to her, “But it seems like you’ve had a pretty good night too.”

“Oh! You’ll never believe it!” She gushes as she looks at each of us, we all have a pretty good idea as to why she’s happy, but we wait for her to share. Smiling even more brightly, she confirms our thoughts, “I got a job!”

“Yay! Congrats mom, that’s great.” Leaning over, I give her a hug and kiss her cheek.

“Does this mean we can get a TV now?” We all ignore Sam’s question, as we give mom her spotlight.

“Oh, thank you, sweetie. I wasn’t sure if I’d find a job, but I did.” Her smile is still going strong, and has me wondering if something more happened.

“She’s just really happy about getting a job.”

Pulling out of the parking lot, she turns the spotlight on us at the sound of Sam complaining about my ‘heavy bags crushing his feet’.

“So, Alex, did you have a good time?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Giving her a light shrug, I hold up my four bags, “I got some jewelry for us to work on, but since you’ll be working I don’t know how much we’ll be able to do…”

“We’ll find time. I promise.” I match her smile as she gazes at me through the mirror; but there’s something bugging me– something about her smile that rubs me the wrong way. It’s so happy, and genuine– it’s one I haven’t seen in about 3 years– I don’t want to ask her if she ‘meet someone’ while job hunting, but the nosy part of me reaaaalllly wants to know.

“... No. Now’s not the time.” I glance at Sam and Mike, knowing that if mom really did find that ‘someone’ they aren’t going to be thrilled– hell! I’m not thrilled… but I should be, it’s just hard. Sighing, I lean against the door frame, watching the city lights blur by; the sound of bike engines has me looking around out of Sam’s window and my own I hunt for the bikers, and I’m not alone, Mike is doing the same thing, which gains mom’s attention.

“What? What’s going on?” She begins to panic a bit, as she looks at the dimly lit road, and then at us.

Mike and I share a look of mile disappointment, but reassuringly smile at her nonetheless, “Nothin’ mom, just need to watch out for bikers is all.”

“Oh, I thought I was about to hit something.” She breathes out a sigh, rolling her eyes the way only a mother can, as we continue home.

My mind is still occupied with mom’s smile and this new job, and sucking on my teeth I lean forward glancing up at her.

“She’s still smiling.” Biting the inside of my cheek, I clear my throat, “So, mom.”

“Hm?”

“This new job– what is it?” I try to keep my voice as light and as innocent as I can, but it’s kinda hard when her smile widens again.

“It’s at a video store–”

“So we are getting a TV?!” Sam leans against me, pushing my face into the back of mom’s seat. Growling, I elbow him in the gut, making him sit back wincing, “OW!”

“Back off!” My voice is low, as I glare it him, making him gulp and scoot away from me.

“-- Well, no, not quite. Televisions cost money, and I only just got my job. But if you want one so badly, you can always save up and buy one.” Mom’s genuine smile shifts into a playful one as she watches Sam’s hopefully continuance morph into one of confusion.

“But… I don’t have any money. I used up the rest of my allowance to get toys for Nanook, and we won’t get any ‘til you give it to us.” Sam is out of sorts as he goes huffs out a sigh, crosses his arms, glaring at the floor. Mom just laughs as she pulls off the highway towards the smaller streets.

“So it’s a video store, sounds fun.” I give mom a smile, bringing her back on topic, and that ‘oh so happy’ smile is back, “Which store?”

“VideoMax.” She’s beaming.

“Uh-huh– met anyone?” Calm down, Alex, again, she could just be excited about the job.

Letting out a chuckle, I shake my head, “I like how I asked ‘which store’ like I know where anything is here. God, I’m an idiot.”

“At least you finally admitted it.” Mike chimes from the front, smiling mockingly at me, to which I respond with a smack to the back of his head, “Wha– HEY!”

“That’s for thinking you were being cute.” I glare at him as mom chides the both of us, “He started it.”

“Did not!”

“Did too.”

“Guys, please! We’re almost home– look, we all just had a nice night out, let’s not ruin it with petty arguments.” Mom looks at the both of us pleadingly, waiting for our answers; rolling our eyes, we give each other stony smiles ‘apologizing’ and looking out our respective windows.

Michael and I haven’t always been like this, but I can’t figure out why he’s turned into a dick around me, but if he doesn’t change his tune, he’s going to get punched in the face. For now, I’m just going to chalk it up to the move making things different and stressful. We still love each other– we both know that, and mom knows it. Unfortunately, she also knows we don’t mean our apologies, but she’s not going to push us since we’ve appeased her. Sighing, she continues to talk about ‘VideoMax’ and her boss, but I tune her out, glancing up at the moon, the cloudy night, and the few stars that can be seen, and the body falling out of the sky–...

Looking back over the ocean, I frantically look for any signs of a body hitting the water, but I never see any. Blinking in confusion, I try to focus on the water again, but I still don’t see anything– it’s too dark, and we’re too far away.

“I need to get a grip, how would a body fall OUT of the sky? There aren’t any planes.” For good measure I look up searching for airplane lights, and there aren’t any. Gulping, I shake the forbidding feeling that moves up my back, settling on my neck. Rubbing my neck, I can’t help but wince at the feeling of hands squeezing my shoulders; shivering, I zip up my jacket, looking up at the sky again, “It was all in your head. Relax, Alex.”

“Yeah, relax.”

It almost feels like someone whispered deep in my ear– which would really be in my head, but it wasn’t my voice, it was foreign, and it sounded like a guy. I glance at Sam, but he’s in his own little corner of the car, probably still thinking about his TV problem, while Mike is leaning his back on the seat, eyes closed.

“Alright, so… it wasn’t either of them.” Looking in the trunk with fear and timid movements, I’m greeted with an empty, dark trunk, “... I’m losing my mind. Awesome.”

I wasn’t able to dwell on my questionable grip on sanity, because mom has already pulled into her parking spot, turns off the car, turning to look at us with that smile again. Not sure if I should feel grateful or not for the car coming to a stop, as we take that as the queue to get out and head inside; I’m the last one out, since no one wanted to help me with my damn bags.

Huffing, I pick up a few pieces that slipped out of one of the bags under the driver's seat. Reaching under mom’s seat, I pull out the last skull charm, placing it in my jacket pocket as I flip my braids out of my face, “I’m gonna beat up that little imp, next time I see him.”

I’m not so annoyed with the fact that he snagged a few things, as I am that he put them IN MY BAGS, and didn’t say anything. If he got caught, we both would’ve gotten in trouble, and I’m not trying to make my mark in Santa Carla a bad one… at least not yet.

Slamming the door closed, I start my little trek to the house, taking a moment to look up at the sky again. Smiling, I close my eyes as a breeze blows by…

“See~...Ya~.... Alex~.”

Opening my eyes quickly, I look around the fairly well lit walkway, but with a frantic expression that would have my brothers in stitches. My heart is pounding in my ears, as I press my lips in a thin, tight line, slightly sucking them in, trying to hold back any potential scream from coming out prematurely.

Not gonna lie, the voice almost sounded like Marko, but there’s no way.

Is there?

Not seeing, or hearing anything, I open my mouth ready to ask the age-old question that gets people killed in every horror movie…

“Nope, not today.” Booking it to the front door, I swing open the door, making Papa E look at me with a scrutinizing gaze. Closing the front door, and locking it, I give him a wide awkward smile as I make my way to my room.

“You alright there, kiddo?”

“Oh, yeah! Totally not hearing things in the wind or anything.” I giggle out nervously as Papa E stares at me for a few seconds with the same expression– it almost seems like he’s trying to figure me out, but then he just blinks, gives me a nod, and takes a swig from his root beer, making his way to his Red Room. I look at him confused, “Uh, okay… Good– good night?”

Shaking my head, I head to my room, tossing the bags on top of my suitcase, laying down with a heavy sigh. Taking out the skull charm, I stare into its black eyes, thinking back on the events of the night. Tonight was definitely one for the books, I did things I wouldn’t have normally done back in Phoenix. Maybe this move was exactly what we all needed, who knows what lies ahead? This is our fresh start, a new chapter in our lives where we don’t have to worry about so asshole making our lives miserable anymore. We have a chance at something great, something wonderful.

“Marko, huh?” Grinning widely, I toss the charm in my suitcase, and get ready for bed.

While I brush my teeth, I pick up my book rereading what I skipped over– which wasn’t much, “Cha’ter 3, ‘Sh-ing, O Muse o’ Hermes, t’e Sh-on of Zeus,’ blah blah blah…” Spitting out the toothpaste, I rinse quickly, making my way back to my room, reading on the way, “‘... Cronion wooed the fair-haired damsel without the ken of the deathless gods or mortal men. Now when the purpose of mighty Zeus was fulfilling…’ Zeus really doesn’t know how to keep it in his tunic.” Making my way to my room downstairs, I slip under the covers, opening my book again, “‘... In that hour she gave birth to a son, subtle of wit and wile, a robber,’ this sounds vaguely familiar, ‘a reiver of cattle, a captain of thieves, a prowler of the night, a pilferer at gates, who was ere long to make known fine doings among the immortal gods.’” Closing my book, I stare at my comforter with a deep crease in my brow, “Is… Is the universe telling me Marko is Hermes?”

Shifting my eyes around my room, I seemingly wait for someone to just pop up and give me the answer, but of course that isn’t going to happen. Of course, Marko isn’t the god Hermes, even if he does seem to be an almost perfect replica of the god.

“Even if he does have similarities to Hermes, he isn’t him at all.” Scoffing at myself, I place my book on my nightstand, turning off my lamp, “‘Sides, it’s not like he can fly.”

Laughing to myself, I close my eyes, falling into a deep and calming sleep.

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

Taglist: @jezabella8 @thelostone91

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

Really hope you guys liked it❤️🦇❤️🦇❤️🦇❤️🦇

78 notes · View notes