#Moth when crayons :O | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babysizedfics · 4 years

Text

Blog Masterpost

babyveeandlittleprince -> babysizedfics

No longer being updated | Last edit 12 April 2024

Please do not reblog this post!

Here you can find all of the information about the blog including links to all the Little/Big fics and character profiles for the universe!

Also check out: Interaction Rules | About me | Tag navigation | Trigger/squick tags to filter

Character nicknames and terms of endearment | Original Background Characters Guide

Concept masterposts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 LINKS BROKEN

Art masterposts: 1 | 2 LINKS BROKEN

Little/big comics masterpost

Sign-offs taken by anons:

J / 💚 / 🐝 / 🤟 / 🤍 / V / 🌙 / 😸 / <3 / 🐇 / 👑 / 🦑 / a friend / 🦋 / 🌸 / indent / ❤️ / 🦦 / 🎃 / ☔️ / 👒 / 🧸 / 🐛 / :) / bunny / 🐍 / 🍁 / 🧪 / 🐁 / ender / 🐘 / 🖤 / 💜🦇 / 👑🦇 / 🤎 / 🌟 / ⛄️ / 🥺 / jailor / 🍼 / moo / 🧁 / ranboo / opossum sys / 🧊 / 🌌 / citrus system / mellohi / 🌱 / moth / 💎 / zee

oOo

FIC LINKS

These are listed in the in-universe chronological order, not in the order they were published!

Peekaboo!

6.6k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

Logan is a shy new caregiver, Patton learns what separation anxiety is, and Virgil disappears then reappears and is a very confused baby.

Little Accidents, Big Developments

68k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

The sides have successfully integrated Virgil's regression and Roman's age dreaming into their dynamic, and everyone seems happier for it. Though, Virgil's willingness to trust the others is tested when a long-term problem starts to present itself around his family; his regression leaves him susceptible to wetting himself.

Caregivers Patton and Logan try to help him resolve this issue as well as help Roman through his insecurities, all while navigating their own newly-discovered romantic feelings for each other.

The Little Prince’s Rescue

2.2k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

Roman is up past bedtime and regrets it when there is a sudden blackout.

Pillow

2k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

Virgil can't sleep. Papa Patton knows exactly how to get him to relax.

Vroom on the Bed

2.5k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

Roman discovers his Mommy has a ticklish back. Revenge is sweet.

Vee Loves Mrs. Bee

0.8k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

Papa Patton helps baby Vee nurse a tired bumblebee back to health.

Pink Crayons and Pinky Promises

12.1k | AO3 link | Tumblr link

Being a super cool big brother is hard work sometimes. Especially when you don’t feel as big as usual, Vee doesn’t feel as little as usual, you parents are asleep, your baby sister’s pullup needs changing, you both need breakfast, you don’t know where crayons come from, and you miss your Mommy. But Mommy always calls Roman a clever little boy, so he’s gonna try to deal with all that stuff anyway! That can’t be too hard, right?

Miscellaneous 250-500 word Ficlets

AO3 link | Tumblr tag link

oOo

CHARACTER PROFILES

NOTE: The characters in this AU are very different to their canon counterparts (especially Vee). I'm not rly trying to make them in character at this point, just having fun developping my own versions of them!

See this post for a guide to the characters’ ages!

Vee

Role: Age regressor - involuntary

Little age range: 2-24 months (0-2 y/o)

Uses she/her and fae/faer pronouns but does not label her gender identity - link to a guide for pronouns and gendered terms for vee - also doesn't use her full name!

Vee is a baby regressor - she is mostly non-verbal, uses baby items and is very mild-mannered. You will usually see her napping, cuddling her family, playing lap games with her CGs, being tickled by Roman, or gushing about her favourite Sanrio characters.

Complete Papa's girl ti the point of developing separation anxiety with Patton.

She is very sensitive when regressed - so much so that she will cry at almost anything, especially when she’s already anxious for whatever reason.

She has regressed ever since she can remember but only found out what it was called within the past couple of years.

Fae struggled a lot with faer regression for many years and was incredibly insecure about it because of the lack of support fae got when fae lived with the “Dark Sides” before running away when fae was 16-years-old (but this will be resolved - there are no unsympathetic sides here!)

Fae is autistic which you will see affect many aspects of faer life.

Roman

Role: Age dreamer - voluntary

Little age range: undefined

Uses he/him pronouns

Roman is a kid dreamer - when he’s little he is very playful, energetic, and prone to tantrums. You'll usually find him colouring pictures for his family, dancing and singing, playing with his beloved cars, pretending he doesn't want cuddles, or pouting.

Secretly a Mommy's boy but don't say it out loud or you'll have a blushy little boy glaring at you.

He also has a middlespace where he acts like a teenager. It's mostly defined by emotional dysregulation and insecurity, so he tends to act out against his caregivers in this headspace.

His littlespace and middlespace are not very clearly defined by age because he simply acts however childish he feels like acting in any given situation. Some of his behaviours are typical of a four year old, some an eight year old, some a twelve year old, some a fifteen year old... You can't pin him down!

The fact that his age dreaming is voluntary and very conscious is important. He knows he's a grown up even when he is acting like a child.

He has ADHD which you will see affect many aspects of his life.

Patton

Role: Caregiver

Nicknames from Vee: Papa, Daddy

Nicknames from Roman: Dad, Daddy

Romantically involved with Logan

Uses he/him pronouns

Patton is a very nurturing and funloving caregiver. He’s the kind of CG who will bend the rules as soon as he sees Vee's lip wobbling or Roman’s puppy dog eyes (which Roman 100% does on purpose)

He can occasionally get carried away with his concern for the littles and become overbearing and even insecure in his ability to care for them despite it coming so naturally to him. His cg headspace can become dissociative for him at times.

He was Vee's caregiver before Vee had even (willingly) been little around Roman and Logan, and was already 'taking care of' her in certain ways before he ever knew about Vee's regression, so him and Vee have a very special bond.

Logan

Role: Caregiver

Nicknames from Vee: Mama, Mummy

Nicknames from Roman: Mom, Mommy

Romantically involved with Patton

Uses he/him and they/them pronouns, identifies as a demi-man

Logan cares about the littles just as much as Patton does, but he struggles with showing affection openly at first. Still, he manages to open up and is far more adept at showing his family just how much he loves and appreciates them all.

He is a big stickler for the rules and sticks to them for the safety and wellbeing of the littles. Enforcing strict bedtimes and sugar limits are very important to him (except he has a weak spot for Patton and the moral side can and will use this to get Logan to drop the rules)

Loves playing make-believe with Roman and reading to Vee.

Janus

Role: Babysitter

Nicknames: Nana (both littles), Gaga (just Vee)

Janus has a rocky history with Vee and is part of the reason Vee felt so ashamed about her age regression for most of her life. He lightly teased Vee about faer childish behaviour not realising that it was a coping mechanism - he never meant to cause harm to Vee and is very remorseful about their past.

He wants to reconcile with Vee and show her that he accepts her regression by offering to babysit the littles on occasion.

Touch-starved and ready for love

Remus

Role: Essentially the chaotic cousin that can’t be trusted around children

He is not integrated into the family dynamic but once Janus has been accepted into it, Remus shows up from time to time to wreak havoc

He is generally immature but he is not a little

Remy

Role: Essentially the cool cousin figure that Roman puts on a pedestal

Remy is not involved in the family dynamic though pays a visit every two months to have a meeting with the sides about Thomas’ wellbeing. Logan and Patton also visit him every other Tuesday for a "meeting", which mainly consists of drinking wine.

He is aware of Vee and Roman’s littlespaces and is non-judgmental of it.

Roman looks up to Remy a lot and thinks he’s ‘the coolest person ever!’ and will often go out of his way to impress Remy, much to Remy’s exasperation at Roman’s clinginess.

Dr. Picani

Role: Vee and Patton's therapist.

Emile is not one of Thomas' characters in this AU, but a real therapist in the mindscape.

He was Vee's therapist at first (she sees him every Monday afternoon) but eventually notices Patton's own troubles and offers sessions for him too. Every other Wednesday he sees Vee and Patton together for family therapy, and every other Friday he sees Patton alone.

#do not reblog #about #little/big series #little/big series masterpost #ts agere #sanders sides agere #agere virgil #little virgil #agedre roman #little roman #cg patton #cg logan

94 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 5 years

Text

lovely ᵕ̈♡˳೫˚∗ (02)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: boyfriend au words: 3744 warnings: crack humour, a liddol bit of fluff, slight suggestive sexual content, jeongguk and y/n being chaotic lowkey & five year old jeno being an actual savage... a/n: happy 2 see such a great response to the lovely couple with part one !!!!!! pls continue to luv and support them (♥ó㉨ò)ノ (pls see series parts on my masterlist!!)

➸ Jeongguk and Y/N play Mom and Dad for a little bit.

Jeongguk could cry. He could quite honestly, genuinely, whole-heartedly cry, right here and right now in the middle of his living room, surrounded by mess and feathers from the bedroom pillows.

He loves kids, don’t get him wrong- my God, he loves kids, and loves how kids can make a house feel like a home, how kids say some really fucking weird things; but, Jeongguk finds that kids are a lot of hard work. He has half the heart to call his parents and say sorry urgently, because children are like tiny spawns of Satan, demons wanting to cause chaos at every corner.

The last time Jeongguk and yourself were given the mission of looking after your niece and nephews, they were much smaller, and therefore easier to look after. All they did was sleep, and cry when they were hungry or needed to pee or poop, and were perfectly content doing absolutely nothing all damn day. Now, three years later, when your sister and her husband are going on a small self-care vacation to Spain, Jeongguk removes himself from the situation to observe the situation, which in description is the view of his living room completely ransacked and bustling with life, crazed children dashing around at full speed, like Mario Kart characters using the star.

It’s so overwhelming that he actually doesn’t even know what to say. When the fuck did they get so hard to look after?

Whenever your niece and nephews came over to visit, they clung to Jeongguk like moths to lamplight. You never knew why. Jeongguk was fun, and easy to get along with, and perhaps his kind-hearted nature was universally loved by all ages. Even when they were babies and newborns, they settled with Jeongguk, staying silent and googly-eyed whereas in your arms they screeched, like banshees or dinosaurs swinging in trees. You couldn’t fault them; Jeongguk was irresistible, maternal almost in the way his voice changed around the kids, the way he laughed at their weird jokes and forced himself into pretend roles, like the mean villain coming to take over their Playmobil hospital.

Eight a.m, that’s when they arrived. Jeongguk had got up at six, eager and anxious, already cutting up salad bowls made up of apple slices and watermelons. Over an overly bitter cup of tea, you heard him ask, “wait, can three year olds eat watermelon?”, and you glared at him to resist the urge to respond with something that may well hurt his feelings.

“I usually like to put them to bed at about eight, but they won’t go to sleep even if you force their eyes closed, so just be firm with them,” is what your sister had said, frantically trying to detach a clinging boy from her leg. Jeongguk blinked owlishly, standing behind you in the hallway as you followed behind her wordless. Maybe Jeongguk didn’t know what firm meant. Raising your voice and being stern with little tiny precious angelic creatures? Never.

(1)

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but you’re boring.”

Five year olds can be blunt and mean. You now know this to be a fact, because the eldest of the four just said that to you, his hands on his hips with his lips in an unamused pout. He stands by the window, one foot on the Playmobil ambulance and the other on his leg like a flamingo.

“What? Why, what did I do?” you ask, confused and honestly, slightly offended. Jeongguk sits off to one side petting the hair of the youngest, his secret favourite because she’s not quite old enough to ask questions or complain.

“That’s what I mean, you’re not doing anything,” he huffs. “You’re supposed to be the bad police officer.”

“There’s no such thing as a bad police officer,” you try to tell him. You pause, realising you’re wrong but also realising that you’re not advised to get political with a five year old, especially one who still thinks the tooth fairy is a real thing. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

“You suck,” comes his reply. Jeongguk snorts, shrugging when you glance at him angrily.

“Stop, you know I’m your favourite Aunt,” you say to him sweetly.

Your nephew, sassy and honest little Jeno, pulls a face and sits back down with a huff, snatching the ambulance off the carpet to thrust the small man inside. “You’re my only Aunt, Auntie Y/N.”

Right.

The not-so-bad-police-officer gets snatched away from you seconds later and you decide, with finality and assertiveness, that you’re done with playing pretend with them. You lift yourself up off the floor, crouching over to take Yeji away from Jeongguk’s arms. Jeongguk pouts, his eyes blown wide as he watches the baby being lifted away from him and towards you.

“Uncle Jeongguk can be the villain,” you suggest, making Jeno forget how uncool you are as he launches into an enthusiastic cheer, followed by his siblings who are making noise just because he is. Jeongguk stares at you, pleading. “Anybody hungry?”

“No thanks, Auntie Y/N,” Jeno replies.

“Oh, do we have animal crackers?” asks Sanha politely, and you nod, taking his hand as you walk towards the kitchen, where a neatly packed bag sits on the counter where you left it when the four little monsters came by your apartment this morning.

Jeongguk lets his body slump as he realises he has nowhere to run, no excuses to pull up, and he positions himself on all fours to get the police officer miniature and indulge in Jeno’s futuristic fantasies of a police officer murdering hospital patients. Honestly, sometimes you have to respect a child’s morbid creativity, even when it scares the living hell out of you.

(2)

“Y/N, did you move Jeno’s inhaler?”

“No, why?”

Jeongguk appears in the doorway to the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck out of a nervous, absent-minded habit. His eyes are glued to the four children in the living room.

“They’re running around a lot, I don’t want Jeno to lose his breath and have an attack,” Jeongguk explains, meanwhile you rummage around in your sister’s handy dandy travel bag and search for the tiny blue inhaler. Jeongguk braves looking away from them and instead over to you, “if it’s not in there, it’s fine, I’ll check the bathroom again.”

You hum, searching blindly. “Yeah, it’s not here, baby. Check the cabinet under the sink, I’m eighty nine percent sure that it’s in one of those plastic boxes.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows push up in amusement: “Jeno’s life is counting on this eighty nine percent.”

“The more you question me, the less confident I get. Check the bathroom,” you reply, shoving a baby carrot into your mouth as you follow Jeongguk out of the kitchen, opting to watch the kids while he rummages around in hordes of bathroom mess. While Jeongguk hurries into the hallway to check the bathroom, you step out into the living room and pause comically.

The four kids seem perfectly happy, loud and obnoxious and covered in a thin layer of white feathers, bleeding from one of the pillows mangled on the floor. Without context, this looks like a murder scene, with crayons broken and split around the floor and the couch throw on the floor next to the Playmobil set, and you’re half praying on everybody’s behalf that those pillows arent the ones from the master bedroom, because you’re pretty sure you don’t have any spares laying around for later.

“Found it,” Jeongguk returns a few minutes later, holding the small inhaler in his hands. After taking a second out of the room, when he comes back he doesn’t quite know what to say. “The mess wasn’t my fault.”

You frown, your hands on your hips. “I know. Maybe you should put on a movie, keep them entertained for a bit so they don’t completely trash our house.”

Jeongguk chews the inside of his lip. “Is it cheating if we call over Seokjin to help? He’s always on kiddie pool duty, he’s better with kids than we are.”

“You’re so good with kids, shut up,” you say to him, gently smacking his arm. “They love you.”

So, he huffs. Stealing a kiss from you, he gently pushes you backwards and then steps across the room, expertly mindful of the landmines of lego on the floor as he grabs Jeno and moves him away from the coffee table, to sit on the couch next to his siblings while Jeongguk retreats to the movie box, filled with animated films that the kids go absolutely bonkers for. You hear the start of an argument over which Disney movie to watch first as you return to the kitchen, chopping up vegetables that, secretly, you know will make you the ultimate uncool Aunt.

(3)

“I hate carrots.”

“You do like carrots.”

A gag. “Vegetables! Yuck!”

With one hand, you rake through your hair, staring tiredly at Jeno and Jaemin as they fuss over the food on their plates. And it’s not even like you wanted to give them carrots! You’re just following the note left for you in the bag, with the instructions of an actual parent being your law. Jeongguk sits at the other end of the table, twirling his fork around his food as he watches, feeling increasingly guilty.

It’s hard being an Aunt, especially hard being the uncool Aunt. He knows it’s just a joke, just something the kids say because you’re looking out for them, and he frowns, looking around the table.

“I’m allergic to carrots,” Jeno says suddenly.

“Don’t lie,” you tell him, aeroplane feeding Yeji who seems to be the only baby present who appreciates your efforts. She laughs and squeals as the spoon of food comes towards her and that makes you smile, animated sound effects as she eats it.

Jeno pouts, “It’s true.”

“Your Mom told me to feed you this, don’t hate me,” you say to him, making your own pout which he, as a stubborn five year old, ignores. “Come on, eat all your food and you can have pudding afterwards. I’ll let you have two slices of cake instead of one.”

He feels tempted. “Can I leave the carrots?”

“No. Carrots will make you super strong,” you explain. “Uncle Jeongguk ate carrots when he was a kid and now he’s real strong, look!”

Jeno glances at Jeongguk, who smiles for effect and encouragement. “Auntie Y/N is right. I hated carrots too, but I wanted to be big and strong so I ate all my vegetables.”

A groan of sadness comes out of Jeno’s mouth. At this point, Jaemin is convinced, wolfing down his carrots that he actually doesn’t hate after-all, considering they’re gone in a matter of seconds. Sanha seems unbothered about the entire thing, quietly eating his food because he knows that he wants that additional slice of cake, even if Jeno is going to refuse it, he is not!

Before you can have a mental breakdown at the dinner table, Jeongguk leans over slightly and looks at Jeno with a gentle and wide-eyed expression, child-like, engaging. “Did you also know that all the good kids on Santa’s nice list eat vegetables?”

Mid-mumble, Jeno freezes, looking at Uncle Jeongguk. “Really?” Intonation, his voice is so high.

Jeongguk nods. “Mhm! Santa said that if you eat your veggies and say thank you to whoever made you the meal, he’ll bring you anything you want on Christmas Day. Don’t you wanna be on the good list?”

Jeno nods furiously. “Yep! Uncle Jeongguk, that’s so cool, you know Santa!”

Eh...If it works. Jeongguk doesn’t argue or disagree as Jeno quickly finishes his plate without protest, seemingly fine at the end considering he just said he was allergic. As he scoffs down the contents of his plate, you look over at Jeongguk and silently thank him, slumping as if suggesting that you were tired. He grins, knowing the feeling.

(4)

Splash.

“Careful, honey, don’t get the floor all wet.”

“Sorry, Auntie Y/N. It was the ducky’s fault!”

Bath time is a chore, surprisingly harder than it was when they were babies and needed extra attention in the water. Sanha sits solo in the bathtub, the sound of Jaemin and Jeno running around in the bedroom an ambience as you crouch by the tub and help Sanha get clean. Yeji is the only child clean and patient, so calm and cute and cuddly and ready to go to sleep the second her bathtime is over. Jeongguk groans somewhere in the apartment, keeping the twins entertained while Sanha finishes up.

“O-kay,” you say, after a few minutes of helping wash away some suspicious chocolate stains off his arms. Most likely super-cool-Uncle-Jeongguk gave them something extra after dessert, and honestly, that wouldn’t surprise you if it were true. “All done! Feel better?”

Sanha nods, letting the duck float away. “Yep. I’m cold.”

“Once you’re dry and changed, we can put on the heating and finish up watching Cars, does that sound okay?”

“That sounds fun, Auntie Y/N! You’re the bestest,” he grins, and you grin too, because honestly, you’re taking coolness points in gasps, and anything to prove you’re not some grouchy unfun Aunt is welcomed and encouraged. Sanha doesn’t make a fuss as he gets dried, shuddering for extra effect and happily snuggling into his duck onesie once everything is dry and ready for him to get changed.

Sanha is a human rocket. He hops into his onesie and races back into the living room, reaching his final destination of Uncle Jeongguk as a loud groan fills the house, likely due to the fact that Sanha has jumped on top of his Uncle, like he always does, just to get the reaction. You sniff, leaning to flush the toilet because apparently they haven’t quite mastered that one yet, and drain the bathtub. The floor sits wet, pooling like an extra tub or the floor of a shower and you sigh, grabbing an extra towel off the rack to soak up the bathwater, the low bubbling sound of the water disappearing briefly out-yelling the terrorsome three out in the living room.

“Need any help, baby?”

Behind you, Jeongguk appears in the doorway, not quite in and not quite out. He hovers, waiting patiently to see if he can find an excuse to stop being a couch for the three kids. You lean over the bathtub, taking out their small toys and setting them on the side with hopes that they will dry overnight.

“Nah, I’m okay,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder with a smile. Jeongguk stands there, having changed, in an oversized jumper and sweats. “What are they doing?”

“Fighting,” Jeongguk says. “I’d break it up, but I wanna see if they’ll learn their lesson once they get hurt.”

“That’s perfect. But fucked. Are we fucked up?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Worked for me and my brother when we were younger. I turned out okay!”

You look at him for a moment with a bewildered look. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

The bathtub makes a gurgle, the water gone and you crouch to pick up the bathmat, hanging it over the small radiator for it to dry faster. Jeongguk then takes several steps backwards as you meet him outside, his smile widening as you close the door and turn off the light, falling into his arms with a soft thud and sigh. His arms wrap around you sweetly, warm and tight, like home. Jeongguk likes weekends for the moments he gets to spend with you, but today, he’s barely seen you in his own home. Longing- Jeongguk tightens his arms around you and presses his lips to the crown of your head, gently swaying you from side to side like a waltz. He knows you feel the same way, the same kind of tired and wanting energy, as your arms lock around him tighter.

“Come on,” Jeongguk mutters, pouting slightly when you pull out of his embrace and glance up at him through your eyelashes. He exaggerates it, humming, and then leaning to press his lips to yours. Moments after he pulls away, he comes back in for another, and another, his hands molded behind your back. “Love you,” he adds in between one kiss, and you hum in reply. It’s enough.

There’s a pitter-patter of feet. “Ewwww! Auntie Y/N and Uncle Jeongguk are having sex!”

You pull away from Jeongguk with such speed that it might give you whiplash; Jeno stands looking slightly horrified in the hallway, near the door to the living room, proud of his rising of ews that follow from his siblings near the TV.

“Don’t say that! Where did you even learn that word?” you gasp, moving towards the five year old.

Jeno shrugs. “Heard it at Mommy’s birthday party. Uncle Taehyung said it.”

You sigh knowingly. “Should have known.”

“Please don’t go around saying that when your Mom and Dad come to get you,” Jeongguk adds in, looking flustered from behind you.

That wouldn’t be the most impressive thing to hear when you walk through the door to collect your kids.

(5)

The bathroom light switches off. Jeongguk closes the door and rubs his face, groaning out aches from his shoulders as he approaches the bed, shirtless, his toes curling into the carpet.

“I swear they weren’t that crazy last time we looked after them,” Jeongguk says, sinking onto the bed. “Have they always been like that? Am I the crazy one?”

“It’s this scary thing called growing up,” you reply, sitting back against your pillows with your phone in your hands, the screen lighting up with new messages from your sister. “Can’t believe you got them to go to sleep without any trouble. It’s giving me baby-fever…”

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna have to ask you to slow down,” replies Jeongguk, sounding winded.

“Everytime you hang out with them, it just proves to me how good you are with kids, and how, you know, someday you might be a Dad and- ugh, you’re gonna be great,” you sigh, followed by Jeongguk grunting with amusement and shuffling to lay right beside you, his nose on your arm. You set your phone down, turning to match together against him like a puzzle. “They’re not shy when it comes to picking favourites. God, they really hate me.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “No, they don't. They love you- you’re so good with looking after them. If I was doing all this alone, there’s no doubt I’d probs forget to feed them at dinner time. I’d straight up order a pizza and forget that kids need certain foods to grow up.”

Laughter suffices as a reply, and that’s that for a little bit. In his head, Jeongguk wants to talk all about how great of a Mom you’ll be, how amazing it would be for him to watch you raise children, his children. He doesn’t say any of these things, because he’s one-hundred-percent certain that you know it all already, and that you’re just modest and insecure about it. So, Jeongguk hums and pulls you closer for a hug, smooching your lips when you’re close enough.

The door is closed. The four kids are sleeping, Yeji so deep in sleep that not even her brothers could wake her up if they screamed. Jeongguk knows this. You know this. So, he moves his hand from your back to your ass, feeling the curve, feeling the smile against his teeth.

“Stop, our niece and nephews are next door,” you warn him, quietly, mumbles against his mouth. Jeongguk smirks, gently nipping your bottom lip with his teeth and pushing his head into your neck.

“And it would suck to wake them up,” Jeongguk replies, worming his way into places hot and inviting. “So, keep it quiet, yeah?”

You huff, rolling to your back and parting your legs as Jeongguk slots in between. “I love when you get bossy on an evening,” you say to mock him and he laughs quietly.

“I love you,” he breathes, and you don’t get time to reply.

He knows, though.

(6)

“And they were good?”

Jeongguk and yourself share a glance.

“Golden,” you say.

Your sister stands in the kitchen, giving you both the stink eye while the three older kids race around the house, excited at the fact their cool parents are home three days later. Honestly, she knows you’re lying, because these are her kids and she knows them better than anybody.

Anyway, she shrugs. “They must always be good for you guys. You can babysit more often.”

Jeongguk tenses in his seat. He loves these kids but, holy fuck, the thought of looking after them again so soon makes him want to throw up. If there is one thing Jeongguk has learnt from looking after three wild rampaging children and one angelic princess baby- but, again, he has no favouritism!-, it’s that it is absolutely harder than it looks.

It’s not enough to put him off though.

When the house is emptied of tiny humans and is left cold and quiet and a little bit messy, Jeongguk stoops to pick up left behind piles of mess on the floor and he finds himself smiling. Now that he thinks about it, it was actually kind of fun. Being a Dad for the day. Then he thinks about being a Dad one day. His eyes find you across the room hauling the hoover out of the storage cupboard and his heart does somersaults.

(7)

[5:45pm] Mean Sibling #1: Tell me why Jeno is talking about how you and Jeongguk had sex [5:46pm] You: OMG THATS NOT TRUE [5:46pm] You: well, i mean… [5:46pm] You: not in front of them !!!! what kind of aunt do you think i am????? [5:49pm] Mean Sibling #1: How does he even know what sex means….how does he know that word [5:50pm] Mean Sibling #1: Hyo is laughing at me. what does my husband know that i don’t [5:52pm] You: that sounds like a you problem [5:54pm] Mean Sibling #1: ok well sorry for accusing you :P gotta give my FIVE YEAR OLD a talk….dear fucking god [5:59pm] Mean Sibling #1: wait a damn second wtf do you mean NOT IN FRONT OF THEM??? [6:00pm] Mean Sibling #1: Y/N ANSWER UR PHONE [6:01pm] Mean Sibling #1: Y/N [6:03pm] Mean Sibling #1: fucker

786 notes · View notes

kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Helluva Hotel/Hazbin Boss (Parody)

HELLUVA HOTEL (PILOT) October 82, 9102

THE PILOT IS HERE!

Starring the incredible talents of Wat-is Dis, Irma Imp, Johnny Hazbin and Red Doe 666.

In HELL, Imps are the lowest of the low in society, but what happens when one starts a hotel and recreation business? This happens!

Follow Blitzo (the “o” is silent) as he pursues his seemingly impossible goal to help demons peacefully express themselves to reduce the mockery of lower class sinners…plus the exterminations of fellow demons by Exterminators and a rival Heaven group. After a yearly extermination and having his previous office set on fire, Blitzo opens a hotel complete with an office for himself. He hopes that patients will become better individuals, grow to appreciate the imps and support Blitzo’s love of musicals and murder. While most of Hell mocks his goals and dreams, his father and his fellow employee Moxxie mocks it doubly so. Moxxie’s wife, erotic dancer and test subject Millie stick by their sides. When a grumpy Hellhound entity known as “Moonlight Howl” Loona reluctantly reaches out to Blitzo to help in his endeavors, his crazy dream is given a chance to become reality.

HAZBIN BOSS (PILOT) November 52, 9102

THE PILOT IS HERE!

Starring the incredible talents of Blonde Disney Princess In Inferno, SJW Aggressor Moth, Porny Horny Spider Boi, Diabolic Deer Daddy, Gambling Grumpy Cat and Maid of DisHonorly Lust.

Follow Charlie, the princess of Hell as she attempts to run a hybrid rehabilitation/killing residence in a very competitive market and careless chaotic society. She is the head of D.E.M.O.N. (Denizens End Misery Or Not) in correlation to I.M.P. (Immediate Murder Professionals)

She has help from her weapons specialist Vaggie, her powerhouse Angel Dust and torturer/receptionist Alastor. With the help of an ancient book obtained by one of the rich Eldritch family members, they manage to make their work possible by killing humans at the requests of their demon clients, sending them to the Magne Hotel to be tortured, redeemed or be stimulated by endless entertainment. They also attempt to survive each other while trying to keep their business afloat.

But a rival company exists as well in correlation to C.H.E.R.U.B (Cherish Human Existence Revive U Back): A.N.G.E.L. (All Nobody’s Get Extended Life) a.k.a. they reincarnate people so they have a chance to life their human lives, worship God, and not have to endure the forced rehab program.

The scene opened up with “Red Doe 666 Presents…” as shadow curtains opened…

Against a white background designed with eyes, a shadowy figure of Blitzo was seen riding a horse with horns and a spiked tail.

Blitzo was heard singing:

“Here I am…this is me.

There’s nowhere else in Hell I’d rather be

Here I am…what am I to do?

I hope someday I can make my dreams come true

It’s a new world, it’s a new start

Alive with the screaming and the fresh hearts

It’s a new day, it’s a new plan

And it’s waiting for me

Here I am”

A shadowy pentagram glowed and the camera moved down, showing shadowy figures of humans being killed by the three imps with weapons.

A shadow figure of Blitzo looked up at the princess and Lucifer, his face downcast. He wished for a better life, but Lucifer looked down on him as common dirt. Blitzo then turned to the right and encountered a silhouette of his father and mother. Blitzo appeared to try and reason with them, but they both pointed in the other direction. Blitzo sadly turned around, his parents not listening to him.

The city spun within a glowing white pentagram as white angels holding spears surrounded it. Imp City appeared to be burning as shadows of other denizens turned their backs on it.

“Why have I always been a failure?

What can they reason be?

Why don’t they see they can’t take me?

Why don’t they know I long to be free?”

Blitzo stood small and downcast under a towering horned silhouette of his imp father, Donner, yellow critical eyes glowing. Black tendrils made the screen go black. A spinning globe appeared with white eyes blinking at it. Silhouettes of Exterminators later posed with swords and bloodstained bodies around them. Each of them had an x over their right eyes and creepy grins on their faces.

The next scenes showed Imp City in disrepair, weapons and bodies littering the streets. The Pentagram moon stood out in the crimson sky. Homeless demons sat in despair under ripped cardboard boxes, with “Satan Bless,” signs around them. One old store read: “Tricksters and Trades,” another said “Pimp Imps: Strip Club.” The most prominent building was metallic with black and white stripped horns extending out for decoration.

Blitzo slowly walked out from the building onto a balcony. He leaned on a railing, briefly brushing his hand against his face. He was wearing his usual tattered navy blue work suit with orange pink buttons and a red undershirt with a pink straw pin with a face on it. He was also wearing silver cowboy boots.

Blitzo picked up a trumpet and blew a bugle sound, the notes echoing throughout the area, signaling that it was safe for the other imps to come out. The imps opened their windows and peered out from behind alleyways. Blitzo stared at his phone and the clock tower in the live video on it read “365 days until next cleanse.”

The title then appeared: “Welcome to the Helluva Hotel.”

A car barreled through an open portal and ran over a poor imp before screeching to a stop. A red imp with wild black hair stepped out, a bloodstained knife sheathed at her side.

“Wow that was some kill, thank for the backup sweetie,” said a male imp, Crosser. Both of them had just finished killing their target via a runaway chase. Crosser had dreamed of crossing over to the human world, and had wanted to run the human man over after the man had killed one of his sinner friends.

Millie shut the door, wearing her usual black tank top, torn black pants and black collar around her neck. Her horns were shirt and black with small white stripes on them.

“Yeah, listen, I don’t want to let word out that I’ve been helping random clients with unusual requests for their targets. It was just a quick cash grab, you got it?”

She smiled with large doe eyes.

“Whatever you say, slut,” Crosser remarked with a laugh that followed.

“Wow how rude can you be?” she exclaimed. She leaned in dangerously close. “Let me know who you find something better to call me, you scrawny runty pack of bird shit. Tell the boys at the club I said hi.” She blew him a kiss before stepping back. He grumbled and drove away before his car crashed with a sideways flip.

Millie strolled along the sidewalk and grabbed someone else’s stick of rotten candy.

“Hey!” the imp yelled as Millie ran off with a giggle. “You snooze you lose, sucker!”

She couldn’t wait to tell Blitzo of her successful day.

Later, Moxxie and Stolas were busy helping Blitzo prepare for his big speech. Moxxie was straightening up his navy blue jacket, while Stolas was massaging his horns. They were in Stolas’ room and the meeting would take place in front of the palace.

“Do you remember what to say, sir?” Moxxie asked Blitzo.

Blitzo smiled and stood up straight. “Yes, let’s do this!”

Stolas smiled as well, wiggling his eyebrows. “Just look at me if you’re nervous.”

“Come on guys, I know what to say!” Blitzo exclaimed. “I just feel like we need to…I don’t know, make things sound more exciting…”

He randomly played with bobble-heads of Moxxie and Millie before tossing them aside. Then he gasped, getting an idea.

“What if I…”

“Sing a song about it?” Moxxie asked with a huff of annoyance.

“Exactly Moxxie! Now you’re starting to get the hang of things around here!”

Stolas playfully poked Blitzo’s face, while Blitzo and Moxxie responded with grimaces.

“Please don’t sing,” Moxxie chided to his boss. “This is serious.”

“Well you know…” Blitzo said, climbing on top of Stolas’ dresser, knocking things down, “I do find I’m better at expressing my goals through song!”

“Blitzy, stop knocking over my belongings!” Stolas puffed up his feathers in anger.

Moxxie glared at Blitzo as he walked over. “Life isn’t a musical, sir. Even if it were, yours would be so atrocious, not even Vox would allow it on that unwatched channel!”

“Then I’ll just have to use more of your salaries to release a better jingle,” Blitzo responded with a glare and sneer. He reached over for his plastic cup of iced coffee and downed several gulps of the light brown and white liquid. He sighed in content after he finished. Stolas made a disgusted face as some splashes of the drink spilled onto the floor.

“I’d be more than happy to watch it,” Stolas replied to him. “In fact, I could watch you all day in any form…”

“Oh please,” Blitzo scoffed at Stolas. “Get over that one time thing already. My credibility is at risk of being lost here!”

Moxxie folded his arms and opened his mouth in frustration. “Your credibility? What about I.M.P.? You’re just making it look like a fucking joke!” He took a breath and pinched his nose briefly. “We are still a company, even if…things have changed a bit…”

None of them could forget when someone “accidentally” set their office on fire, and had to start over with several tasks.

Blitzo grinned and pulled out a piece of paper. “Oh, I have these other ideas of what to say. The highlighted bits are the best parts.”

Moxxie took the paper, and scanned it in disbelief. “It’s all highlighted. Are these drawings?”

“Yep!” Blitzo affirmed, pointing to the paper. On it were several drawings of horses of different sizes, colored in with brown, gray, white and black crayons. The drawings looked like those that a child would do. Beside the horses were several names labeled for each one: Thumbtack, Bottlecap, Stapler, Live Wire and Toothpick. The list read: I.M.P. History, Why Blitz Is The Best, Jingle Suggestions, and Ending Song. At the bottom was a crude drawing of Blitzo on a stage, dancing with Moxxie, Millie, and Loona as dead humans with xs on their eyes and tongues out piled up around them. Nearby, imps and demons tossed them money and flowers.

Blitzo’s eyes were shining in wonder. “See! That’s the ultimate goal! Everyone’s happy and appreciating us. And we still get to kill to our hearts’ content.”

“It’s not that simple, sir!” Moxxie groaned with a face-palm. “Just follow the talking points we went over.” He grabbed hold of Blitzo’s collar. “And Do. Not. Sing.”

“Whatever,” Blitzo said as he shoved Moxxie off him. “If not that, then I can always do my improv skills.”

Blitzo saluted and walked out of the room, while the others followed. They were soon outside the palace near a round table where several owls had tea one time. There was a camera crew and several imps taking pictures. Blitzo took his seat in a chair, while Stolas stood regally nearby. Millie grinned and gave Blitzo a thumbs up. Loona slouched in a chair and shot avatars of Moxxie and Husk in an app game on her phone.

“Hi I’m Blitzo,” said the imp to a wealthy demon with white tentacle hair, gray-green skin and a pink dress with fur and matching heels. Her gray skinned brother wore a green suit and a green top hat decorated with living yellow eyes and teeth around the brim.

“Helsa Von Eldritch,” she deadpanned. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but that’d be a lie. You can put your hand away. I don’t touch imps and sinners. I have standards.”

Blitzo withdrew his hand. “How’s that working out for you, Hel?”

“Be glad that I’m letting you live after you so rudely forgot to address me as Lady Helsa Von Eldritch,” She fluffed her hair. “My time is money and no one really wants you here. You’re only here because Charlie forgot to show up for Hell’s Royal Vogue fashion segment. One that features me as the favorite, obviously.”

Nearby were magazines that showed Sevaithan, Helsa, Octavia and Charlie wearing fancy clothing while their faces were obscured under wide brimmed hats. Seviathan wore his usual green top hat with eyes on it and fancy green suit. Octavia wore a dress of black, Helsa’s was pink and Charlie’s was apple red in the pictures.

“But…” Blitzo began, before Helsa cut him off.

“So don’t get cocky with me clown or I’ll fucking strangle you.” She bared her sharp teeth as Blitzo silently gulped. Helsa sat down in her seat, painting her sharp nails.

“And I thought that bratty kid was a piece of shit,” Blitzo thought to himself.

Blitzo spotted Stolas’ daughter Octavia with her mother sitting in high throne-like chairs at an adjacent table.

“How’s it going, Via?” Blitzo called.

“Good until you showed up,” she replied in a British accent.

“Oh!” Stolas added. “We should all go on a family trip to Loo Loo Land sometime! I’ll bring some balloons and popcorn if you want.”

“That place reeks of corporate shame,” Octavia scoffed in her seat. “It’s just a rip off of Loo Loo World, anyway. Besides, I would much rather hang out with Helsa than die of embarrassment again.”

“So…you friends with her or not?” Blitzo asked in confusion.

Octavia rolled her eyes and retorted. “You and my father still a thing?”

“Blitzo,” warned the white owl queen Melodia, mentioning to the waiting crew.

Blitzo took his seat near Helsa and Seviathan, the two wealthy Eldritch siblings.

“Right,” Blitzo said, straightening his clothes and looking at the cameras.

“Hi, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the founder of I.M.P. Are you a piece of…”

Moxxie shook his head and mouthed, “Not an ad.”

“…shit.”

Blitzo took a deep breath, his smile fading a little. “As most of you know, I was born here in Hell, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home and…”

A stray feather floated in front of Blitzo’s nose, causing the imp to sneeze.

“…some you are my clients, so I suppose I should try to be more concerned about you. We just went through another Extermination.”

Millie gave him two thumbs up.

Blitzo continued. “We’ve lost so many souls, including homeless people, and it breaks my heart to see other imps and hellhounds being slaughtered every year. Same goes for sinners. I mean, they brought it on themselves mostly, but then again, if there were no demons around, then there would be no business for me to run.”

Sudden anger sparked in his golden eyes. “In our society, imps are not even given a chance!”

He pounded his fist on the table, spilling his coffee drink all over his jacket. He swore and tried to lick some of it off. Stolas arrived and quickly wiped the stains off as much as he could. Blitzo brushed the owl prince away before continuing.

“Imps are the lowest of the low? Why is that? Because we’re somehow poorer than sinners? We’re lesser in numbers so imps and hellhounds can be called to service by random strangers anytime they wish? How are imps somehow lower than sinners, who are supposedly lower than the elite hellborn? I mean, imps are born in Hell…shouldn’t we get the proper treatment we deserve? I’m the founder of the most well-known company in Imp City, along with access to the human world, no less! That should definitely count for something! I cannot stand idly by while the place I live is subject to such judgement and death.”

Blitzo continued… “So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a better way to hinder ignorance, and in my case, hinder the lower ratings for my company? Isn’t there a more alternative way to change clients and souls through…recreation? Well I think yes, and that is what my project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen, I’m expanding on my company and making…a conjoint hotel to encourage self-expression and I.M.P. appreciation!”

Blitzo spread out his arms at the table. He then muttered nervously at the confused faces. “You know…cause when demons learn to appreciate us more and be somewhat nicer…we won’t have to worry about those blasted Cherubs or the angels coming after us…”

“Angels?” laughed an imp as he watched Blitzo on TV. “Is that imp for real? Oh he’s nuts!”

Blitzo went on…”and those who come and cheer for me at my musicals will receive a 15% discount the next time they need my gang to kill people! Yay!”

“Stupid clown,” mocked an imp before Millie punched the cameraman right in the face, sending him off the stool.

Blitzo looked around in concern. “Look, I know that each and every one of you has something good inside you. I know you do.”

Then he smirked, getting an idea. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

He mentioned to his black haired imp sisters Tilla and Barbie Wire, who suddenly walked in view of the camera, wearing black and pink circus outfits.

Moxxie face-palmed with an “oh no.”

Blitzo began his song while standing on the table…

“I have a dream, I’m here to tell

About a wonderful new I.M.P. hotel

Yes it’s one of a kind

Right here in Hell

Catering to bloodthirsty clientele”

Blitzo’s sisters provided harmonizing vocals.

“When you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals

Your vengeance gone wrong?

Are you looking for a song?

At my new hotel, we won’t do you wrong

I.M.P. just wait and see

Embrace you inner demons and live free

But we expect, to treat us with respect

Or we’ll have to break your neck

Yes it’s hard to learn to be good

But to escape stressful lives, you know you would

Give us some green and don’t be mean

This’ll be greatest show you’ve ever seeeeeen!

Don’t feel blue

We provide service to you

There’s no room for inner strife

When we could have a better life

There will be no more loss

And there will be no more schemes

Just horsey-horse nuzzles and iced coffee dreams

And traveling a better way

You’ll be like “Yay!”

Once you check in with meeee

We do or job so well

Cause we come straight up from Hell

We make your troubles go away

And you can find a place to stay

Via the Immediate Murder Professionals

Kids die for Freeeee!”

Blitzo and his sisters ended with poses on the table.

One demon with one eye said “Wow! That was shit!”

Everyone except Blitzo, Tilla, Barbie Wire, Moxxie, Loona, Millie, and Stolas burst into laughter. Blitzo buried his face in his hands on the table, while Millie fired her gun at the crew. Moxxie booed at Blitzo.

Helsa Von Eldrich sneered at the imp, her brother next to her.

“What in the Nine Circles of Hell makes you think people would give two shits about becoming a better person? You have no proof that this experiment even works. You want people to be good and pay attention to your measly company just…because?”

“Well,” Blitzo argued, “I have an employee already who’s dedicated to my cause.”

“And who might that be?”

“Oh just someone named…Millie. Oh and we also have a new guest coming as well…Mimzy!”

Seviathan glanced over and asked, “The flapper girl?” He had previously dated Charlie but would occasionally mess and flirt with sinner girls to mess with them. Mimzy’s fame had appealed to him.

“You fucking would, Sevia!” Helsa bared her teeth. “Anyway, I bet that girl wouldn’t bat an eye to your company unless you had a million souls.”

“Admit it, Blitzo,” added Sevia. “You and your gang of imps are dead to us and to Hell. How does it feel being a total failure?”

The sibling snobs cackled at a hurt Blitzo.

“Yeah, well how does it feel that your ex loves a sinner over you, huh? Bastard bitch?!”

Sevia and Blitzo managed to yell and land a few punches before they were forcefully separated via Stolas’ bird guards. The meeting ended abruptly on the spot. Blitzo and his companions felt dejected on their way back to the office. Stolas had generously given Blitzo some money to add another connecting hotel building with rows of rooms, a stage and a bar.

The three imps arrived at their building and after filling out some paperwork, they met in a lobby of the separate building. There were pictures along the walls of the I.M.P. members. Blitzo posing with his sisters after performing at a circus. Blitzo holding a puppy Loona lovingly. Moxxie and Millie in wedding attire, the couple gazing lovingly at each other. Millie and Moxxie sitting with a large Apple mascot for Loo Loo Land, Moxxie crying in fear and discomfort.

Millie walked over to the fridge and pulled out a box of popsicles. She happily sucked and ate a black raspberry one.

“You know you might as well get more food for this place,” Millie mentioned to Blitzo. “To feed all the wayward souls in this place.” She giggled and added, “I can help organize the car wash while you search the fridge for spoiled butter!”

Blitzo just sat dejectedly on a wooden crate of booze. Millie considered comforting him, but Moxxie gave her a look and shook his head. Millie sighed and followed her husband to let Blitzo be alone. Blitzo stepped outside and called a familiar person on his hell phone. The label read “Stolas, a.k.a. One Night Stand Bird Dick.”

“Hey Stolas, it’s me.”

“Hello Blitzy, how may I entertain you tonight?”

“No you really don’t have to.”

“Perhaps a show that can make up for today’s broadcast?”

“Yeah about that, I…don’t think I’m making a difference. I mean, I’m lucky to be alive after the Extermination but, everyone thought my plan was stupid.”

“Perhaps unusual,” Stolas mentioned. “Redeeming and trying to change demons is like trying to freeze Hell’s fires. It’s just not possible.”

“Not that I want to do it completely…but if things keep going wrong, I’ll lose my company and maybe even my families’ lives from those in Heaven.”

Stolas squawked with laughter. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of those flying cherubs and sheep?”

“Fuck that! Those dancing revivers are annoying pieces of shit trying to interfere with my hard work.”

“How about this way, C.H.E.R.U.B. or whatever those things are, revive humans so you have more humans to kill later on!”

“But having to kill the same people again and again? How boring is that! I.M.P. needs more variety, less repetition. Thumbtack, my horse, agrees.”

“Didn’t you tell me about how you killed that bratty kid twice?”

“It was Moxxie and then me but that’s not the point. If this company goes out of business, then I’ll never get the chance to live my musical theater dreams.”

“Don’t be sad, Blitzy,” said Stolas. “You have your associates and you also have me. I’ll make sure no one messes around with you.”

“I think my dad was…right about me…”

“You’re no failure Blitzy. He can hardly call himself a father to you. And if he ever tries to make you lonely and bring you down because of your goals…”

Stolas then ranted on with a series of curses and a lot of cringe-worthy sentences. Blitzo laughed nervously.

“If this is your way of trying to get into bed then I ain’t having it.”

“No, not this time.”

“Okay then. Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime.”

“Good bye.”

Blitzo hung up by tapping on the phone screen. He wiped tears from his eyes as he headed back inside. He leaned against the door, eyes closed, frustrated and fatigued.

Just then, he heard a knock on the door. One loud knock that made it sound like someone had decided to punch the door. A smile grew on Blitzo’s face as he opened the door.

There stood Loona in her usual gray tank top with a black downward pentagram design below her neck. Her pants with a moon on it wore torn and she wore no shoes. Her eyes flared red, her red tongue just visible among her sharp teeth.

Blitzo beamed. “Loo…”

Loona slammed the door hard. Blitzo opened it.

“…ny!”

Loona slammed it again.

Blitzo eagerly turned to Moxxie. “Hey Moxxie!”

“What?!” asked the agitated imp.

“Loony is at the door!”

“What?!” Moxxie asked. “Oh?” asked Millie.

Blitzo was cheered up. “What should I do?”

“Don’t let her in!” Moxxie spat.

Blitzo waltzed right to the door and opened it.

“May I rant now?” asked the hellhound.

“You may,” Blitzo responded.

Loona stomped inside. “The nerve of you guys to just leave me behind like that. I mean, did you want me to sit through another segment of royalty bitching about their outfits. When my punk clothing is superior anyway. Man Blitzo, I haven’t seen anything so embarrassing since you decided to give me spiders and sleep with that privileged asshole. Heh, you were kinda pathetic.”

She had her sharp black claws out, and her breath smelled of alcohol.

Moxxie pointed a gun at her. “Stop right there! I know that look and I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else here, you lunatic emo meth addicted bitch!”

Loona just lowered the gun with her fingers. “If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would’ve done so already.”

She growled and bared her fangs. “Ya know, I came because…I was thinking of helping.”

Blitzo looked confused. “Say what?”

“I wanna help you run this place. Why not, nothing else to do.” She scoffed. “Though Blitzo, your plans are ridiculous as always.”

“Why do you still have her around?” Moxxie shook his head. “She hardly answers the bone phone and has skipped work too many times to count!”

“Don’t talk about her like that, she’s fine. Sometimes she has what some people would call…ruff days.”

Loona flipped the bird before searching the fridge. “Any avocado salads here?”

“No. I already ate mine early thanks to you eating mine last time.”

“Nobody claimed it and besides, people like you don’t need lunch.”

“Hey!”

“Alright,” said Blitzo. “I’ll be happy to have you help. Just…don’t fly off the handle or get into any trouble.”

“Fair enough, whatever.”

The hellhound looked around. “Any hotel visitors around here?”

Millie mentioned to a chubby short blonde haired woman reading a magazine and humming a tune. “Just Mimzy.”

“You’re never fully dressed without a smile,” she sang.

“Meh. Not enough. Hey Millie, any extra things you can do?”

Millie grinned. I can snuggle you and give you kisses.”

“Ha! No.”

“Your loss.”

Loona sighed. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. I can sniff you a few people who might be helpful.

About fifteen minutes later, she came holding a squirming blue anglerfish demon in her paw. He was wearing a gray lab coat, yellow goggles and a hanging light from his small top hat.

“This little amphibian is Baxter,” Lonna said, dropping him.

“I-I’m Baxter,” the fish stammered. “That mutt over there just tracked me down, right when I was about to gather my ingredients for my next p-project. It’s a top secret formula that I m-must complete.” He raced around to grab more beakers, vials and a burner nearby. “It’s been a w-while since I’ve seen new people. And I don’t want to see any more. No, no, no, stay back! Back off I say!” He pointed a white shrink ray at anyone who came too close. “If you’ll e-excuse me, I must get back to work!”

Several moments later, not too far from headquarters, a white and red hellhound was strolling along listening to rock music on 90s headphones. “Why am I even here?” she thought. “I can’t believe that I’m stuck in this vast scary place.” Music and a tough front hid the insecurity underneath. She received a tap on the shoulder.

“The hell? The fuck is this?” She turned around and spotted Loona. “You!” she broke into a large toothed grin. She wore black leather, metal rings on her pointed ears and a spiked collar. Her shirt was pink red with a white skull on it. Porn magazines lined her pockets.

“Crymini,” Loona greeted, hiding a small smile.

“So glad to see you again, Loona,” Crymini replied. “Anything on your mind? What shall we do? Go for a drink? Vandalize a building after a smoke? Or we could chew on some bones of demons…they’re my favorite snack!”

“I wish,” Loona rolled her eyes at the more hyper hound. “I feel somewhat obligated to help Blitzo and company recruit more people to help promote I.M.P.”

“I think I saw commercials of it,” Crymini mentioned. “That imp killing company?”

Loona nodded.

“Wait…you work there too?”

“Pretty much. A receptionist. Filled to the brim with paperwork, calling clients and annoying fellow employees.”

“Your condition still there?” Crymini asked.

“Syphilis can go fuck itself.”

“I wish it would for your sake and mine as well.”

“One wouldn’t say being in a rock band is much easier, but it’s still pretty fun.”

“I’ve seen you play guitar and sing. Pretty good I must say.”

“Thanks! I’ll be performing at a concert later this week. Will you be there?”

“Sure,” she replied with a shrug.

“Let’s go to your headquarters then!”

Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Mimzy, Baxter and Crymini were soon together at the building.

“Anyone want some booze and fresh meat?” Loona asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Not too far away, concealed in bushes, a figure was watching them with orange eyes. Roo, the kangaroo Australian demon. She had white skin, wild aburn hair and wore orange. A large wide brimmed dark hat concealed her face in shadow. A parasitic creature slithered from her mouth, its body covered with white spikes and eyes.

She bared her sharp teeth, blood and liquid dropping from her mouth. One thought emitted from her head, the parasite in sync with her thoughts.

“Feast.”

#hazbinhotel #helluva boss #moxxie #millie #blitzo #loona #stolas #hazbinboss #helluvahotel

8 notes · View notes

leowyattv · 4 years

Photo

Steep Grade Fadeaway

Day is a Monday, lease On life’s right side of the low- Lying greens, order’d by law, Creases, offering a hand to hench- Men handy for odd-jobs re- Pression & phobia with wolf spider Ire stocking its stuffing, venom Plenum spokes from eight- legged gait, unipolar police Police who didst to citizen do South bayway sword maneuver —dune ballooning din—kill them :: moths from mothta spread— I’m a member of.— online soap seas cap’n gown loan shark says-he’s—sore lark admin the sole soul food restaurant— vessels contain company that’s it—company THE THING IS IS VANDAL SURE-FOOT’D SHOE YOU’LL DISAPPOINT ME —Dianne of diagnostics Prism blend’d light, you mean honestly ~ i ~, ere Administration's penchant for pens & Cagey humors, pent up & alloted limited stock On pinterest’s pinner plot Would extraction begin, even Helices interr, interject Baby Christ’s liverwurst extrusion, Redux of suede luxe ever does thine slow- f[x] fool on a lark's wing in folly err; But general, the nut sacks, please, topp'd Sweetener glaze (never for gays) Sweat frosting from ecclesiast's evac- Uation jizzum, eat- ery just a- Round the bend over good That IndyCar 500 cock. So: so-so soho block where— Erstwhile free- thinking myth- ology passes heavy limbs Creaking in wind [was thinking we’d] Flower fourteen curls Back & forth, Codify desert sublation, Cue gay porn infinity loop on eternity's Cloud backup-drop forever projected, For your children, Mike, your kids. & this — this (my) ((his)) cursive slick mercurium thick, pen flood in- flux counter-sunk & dumb- Bows, ties, sells quill at marketplace With expertise’s durable advisory, reed Screeching in its rubber friction drift, which quells not squad disruption, squall, Abuts up with a spade to fabled proprietary lines; Umpire enraptured, raptor Pack kinetics study anonymous groups, For scrimmage near miss Miss, the MRSA Merck's Near-fatal tithe. < h o w t i g h t b i r c h b a r k f l a k e s o f f t o g e t h e r ash :: coils :: winch :: draw- in-the-dark rhythms inn-like, quiet, keeping with Queen Mariah Carey's Kierkegaardian wish :: Of lactic acid & Jehoshaphat Edicts, alliances spat at by Jehu So cordage tension its elastics tests :: Hell moans red Waves a porcupine pelt let through Spires sharp with bone, in- Scriptions of pass’d down teaching King-toppling :: hull groan gore, little system submarine ultrasonics, Realty a reality drive, divisions Splints tack’d on ulterior Versions, separation goods Another marketplace subsumption, a- Ah ah, Monarch’s ampersand Armory & orphanage growth paradigm. Mama, in the maw Of a monster it appears When spat to mangrove’s entanglements In whose rootless cloak Womb-like repair’d did I float On Tidal pressure’s pat turns Of wave phrase & coastal sound. Grammy’s telegram Faroff drawing graph’d out In double bass clef, whitebread from the top of Wonderbread ridge, Omi? [[[ hives, hexagon life-rafts Ashkanazi Jews descendents in whose Nameless lineage bow’d heads lean past stalk & branch ]]] Holocaust a hologram to fool’s corner; Survived, devised lives, could I Then, they this disbelief hold After the fact hush, scattering creed, Belief like layers of sound same Overlaid, distortion via copying; this Terrain vague makes us Hungry for disbelief & away,— Shame at sensation’s predicate, we’re not we’re not were not them—then. Characters glynne & surrowe, iyse foes may say will not into world will For will’s sake. Gardner rescinds Offer for cylinder Heads, standing wave pressurized In tubular body, met with lip Aperture shifts & valve Select valve depressions trumpet Walls down, & Solomon’s temple’s walls Shake each brick laid If coded into video- game; mechanics of Megafauna’s jaws dent don’t puncture, dental spread of broom’s Bristles or concrete finishing screed. The lady grabs the keys & allows generations a soul’s Movement to buoy faith :: Clay takes on new shapes for Good, naked bracing Against surface, thrust short Rink’s fire firefly-stud’d, freight’d glows The fright force against density Darkness offers, suspension Cradle, safe durational rock shock’d By freight trains penetrative Expansion, gaseous fits in confines small; Cobbler’s shop a shack, canister Tremolo goes to tumble-wash, Eviction of nuns at Juniper Monastery, things object through Inaction, plants guard fruit from gulls’ gullets, Gourd raft or instrument & species disembark :: Parnassus lamb on spits, spurn Wager’d against poignant Stellation of spur’s star’d points, stud’d. It is rather lonely. Welter Weights waste excess swells In waist’s weight-gain, Spotted once then trimmed, deemed High hinderance if loot’s to be tuned up, then taken; Blood from thin laceration Above the right eye releases threads Of blood; hand held, yes Triads, amps per kilojoule of One grain of sand, which Between toes react, duststorm Shakes clapboards & window-garments, The fornification of conceivable indivisible parts :: Things poole gryn, Graham to you This, saturate, this saturnalia. Wherever sea rummages earth’s crust Sage’s city wisdom, said to overturn off- Compass underpass or Souls inhabitance Herenow splatoon ever in unum Pluribus, A well. If it gets to, it’s off in bramble patch again; Cavernous sediment down- Loads by way of remaining in stasis, Adaptation & change proceed With gradients of such nuance one is Sure as one can be Organisms are a constancy unmoved. English ivy, spry & welcoming Enough to juncos & finch-song, Strangles any individual offering A vertical support, a tall host, From whose apex, were One to climb douglas fir In that Spanaway house’s lot, one would note Yellow blazes from Scotch broom, an infantry Under which camas flower & prairie grass Die off; ecologists hear & provisions provide public. Nova scorch Canopy, What’s happened to it all Primates of later eon ask? Sand shook; mud slid, loosed from Roots once anchoring mass, Hook enters the base Of the bait, loop line Doubles & knots, casting out guesswork When fisheries bring ghostnets to Foreground & shore. Rasas. & family still Standing :: Burgess brothers Twin lute & nylon-string, Summerfield Tectosilicate feldspar recovers & with Katy & makes musical games to train good weapons, voice leading & harmony Accompaniment, just.— It promised. no ~ i ~, quotient, quarrel Quest-kill objective, quarantine, Can inquiry proceed experimental Without explorational? INgenuine (this venue, come now) To even ask, but to Figure this out buy redrawing What was that, Those shapes making layers first, Maybe dimensions, second? Sinkholes clog eventually. Can yonder’s crayon-wax Out rear windshield Make out landscape’s Attendees & absentees alike? The tipoff bid for children’s hospital Sutures lawmaker to industry Profit-centers, pediatric morbidity rallies, Shipping vessels on glass beds spit Beads of bleach, sleet freeze Hardening to barnacles, sharkfin decor, Trim efficiencies, sin, sign, nature, what Remains in speech decoder’s translation? Mama’s got through villanelle Format, perforated loss, refrains Rebounding sound given shape By lack surrounding it, cradling it, even. Shedding it, scalar skin or bark; Magnitude without direction; A temper vestibule in- Vests, jackets a body in Truncated coat, technics fold, inter- Ruptions :: hundreds die as baseline Nuclear arsenal refill Fun, a planting pot fresh with Manure, fertilizer funds, & dirt With paradox, halving lives A speculative endurance, Populating a futurity with Untraceable elegance, Like mycological spore, or mycelial Masses; like cryptocurrency Exchanges in blockchain Relationship & exchange verifiable With uncompromising math With extraneous dialogue In the wind; like let them be naked Physicists sporting labcoats Only, as a group Sure of dark matter’s Not being there, its criminality A subversion, defying Paradigm parameters, & the glottal Stop at this epistemological Dissolution, erotic even, A flush heating bodies up At the limits, the proximity Of other bodies, the desire For physical embrace & exchange enough, nearly, To assume such kingmaker species a half-life well off Into future, plutonium megawatt power-station Giving life to groups finding Each other, once again, beneath Night’s luminous bodies, Beneath moon’s thievery, Held by shadows, deep black density In whose unmappable infinitude a species Approaches a release from print, rose Compass, gold arrow, landscape & waterway Florescent with spectra of blue & volcanic reds, shorn from it, then, Held in what is after all, unnamable, Of near-absolute incompatibility With kingmaker species & yet, That which gave any of it The possibility of accidental beginning.

#poems #poets #poetry #poemsandpaintings #poemsandimages #poeticstories #writerscreed #artontumblr #whateveritis

3 notes · View notes

astrophile-imagines · 5 years

Text

It’s always been you, hasn’t it?

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Wouldn’t you find her creepy or weird? What if you thought she was a stalker? What was she thinking when she came up with this idea? She would die if you found out about this. Okay, enough panicking, she really did not have time for it, you would be leaving class in three minutes. It wasn’t such a big thing, she was just overthinking everything, like always. Making sure no one would see her she crossed the hallway as fast as she could till she was face to face with your locker. Her small hands were holding a small pastel note, with beautiful handwriting in it:

“I feel like a tiny moth everytime you appear,

I can not resist the need to feel closer to your light,

but I have to as my feelings are forbidden.

I don’t ask for you to love me,

just to have me by your side forevermore.

- Sunset”

She was trembling as she slipped the little note through the locker’s slits. She had spent hours last night thinking on what to write on that piece of paper. She knew it wasn’t the best poem in the world, but she wasn’t the best at expressing her feelings either. Lost in her thoughts she barely had time to run away from there after the bell rang. With her heart jumping in her chest she hid behind a cornner in hopes of seeing your reaction, crossing her fingers, she dreamed for a little smile to appear on your face.

Finally your class was over, no more talking about vectors and other useless things Mrs. Kim seemed to love. “I can’t believe she wants us to do all that homework! Doesn’t she know some of us have a life?” Chaeyoung, as usual, was whining about all the work she didn’t intend to do. “It’s not that much, you are just a sloth.” You laughed while running to open your locker. Chaeyoung was going to quip back at you when a small piece of paper flew from your locker to the floor. You both stood there looking at it without moving. “What’s that (y/n)?” “I have no idea.” “Are you going to pick it up or...” both of you reached for it and luckily for you, you were faster. “Come onnn! Tell me what it is. Is it a love note? Do you have a secret admirer? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, me! Your own best friend! My heart is broken...” While she continued on with her drama, you turned around and read the note. Was it for real? Did someone really feel like this about you? Before you realised you started blushing. “Omg, you are so red!!! Does it say who it is?” “It is signed as Sunset,” you pouted ”no clue who it can be.” “Don’t worry we’ll find out who it is!” “No need to bother, it probably is a prank.” Chaeyoung rapidly took you by the shoulders, “are you stupid? Like, it may be a horrible poem, but come on! It is clear someone has feelings for you!” She kept on shaking you till you laughed. “Okay, okay, we’ll investigate but first you need to go to history class.” “Ugh! You are the worst, I want to help you find your soulmate and you push me away.” Laughing at her dramas you bid her goodbye and turned to close your locker. She was right, the poem may have been really cheesy, but just thinking about someone using their time to make you smile made you feel warmer inside. You just hoped she was the one who wrote it.

Without you realising it, that special someone you were dreaming of was just arouns the corner, smiling softly while seeing you walk away.

A few weeks had passed, and with them more notes kept appearing in your locker. “You have to do something back, how about you leave a note too?” “Oh yeah, leave a note in my locker that has a password that only I know. Genius move Chae!” Along this weeks you and your best friend had been thinking of ways to communicate with Sunset but you couldn’t come up with something. Caught up in your thoughts you didn’t realise where you were going to and collided into a smaller frame, sending her flying to the ground. “Oh my god! I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying att-” “Don’t worry, I know it wasn’t on purpose.” A soft voice replied. Oh no, you had practically knocked down your crush, could you be anymore stupid? Blushing you knelt down besides her and helped her stand up. “Still, if I hadn’t been such an airhead you wouldn’t have fallen.” Jisun smiled at you and grabbed your hand, that was still holding her “really its okay, stop apologizing.” She squeezed your hand and walked away. You felt sparks going up and down your arm, not being able to hold your smile you squeeled while giving small jumps. “Are you done fangirling, or can I show you a little something that will change your life?” Looking at Chae you realised she was holding something “so while you were having your little k-drama moment with fairy princess over there I, being the best friend that I am, noticed a thing had fallen off Jisun’s backpack.” Smirking she opened her gigantic hand showing you the small object. “A notepad?” “Are you that hard headed?” She pushed the item in your face, “don’t you recognize the paper?” No, there is no way. “It cant be, no, I don’t believe you, it-its impossible!” “Nope, it seems your lovelife is finally going to exist.” You took the notepad, caressing the paper. “What do I do?” “What do you think? You confess your unconditional love to the queen of hearts over there.” “Can you stop the with the stupid nicknames?” She laughed while walking away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. “Jisun is Sunset?” You craddled the notepad close to your heart, blushing and smiling, you knew what to do.

Time had never passed slower for you. Your leg was bouncing while you scribbled on a piece of paper. Finally the bell rang, giving you your queu to sprint out of the classroom and find Jisun. You decided the easiest way to catch her was to wait by the school entrance. Waiting under the gates, you couldn’t stop biting your nails, what if Chaeyoung had pranked you? Or worse... What if Jisun had pranked you? You didn’t have time to ponder on that thought when you caught Jisun walking out. “Hey!” She turned around with her brows furrowed, but that scowl disappeared when she saw you waving your hands in her direction. “(Y/n)! What’s the matter?” Oh god, you didn’t plan this far, what do you tell her? “Hey I’ve been in love with you since you shared your crayons with me in kindergarten, wanna hold hands and ride off into the sunset?” “I-I just, what a nice day we have today h-huh?” She smiled at you, but clearly she didn’t know what the hech you were talking about. “Do you wanna take a walk with me by the beach?” You pointed in that direction with a littel smile, oh how you hoped she didn’t think you were weird. “O-oh! Yeah! Sure, lead the way.” You both started walking together, till you reached the beach, talking about anything and everything. Once you stepped on the sand you both took off your shoes and ran to the water. “Aah! Its so cold, I can’t.” Jisun jumped back while you just laughed knee-deep in water. “Its not that bad you chicken.” “How dare you, I’ll show you who’s the chicken here.” Before you realised was she was planning, she kicked the water, making you gasp and run away. “I didn’t take you for a cheater, but I see how it is now”. You threw your backpack near hers and full sprinted in her direction. She gasped but couldn’t escape. You hugged her waist and pulled her towards the sea. “(Y/n)! Stop! Don’t you dare, you are gonna soak us both.” She wriggled around while laughing, for a second time stopped, she was glowing, drops of water floated around her, making Jisun look like a mermaid, she really had you under a spell. While you both were distracted a wave crashed into you, pulling both of you under water. You looked at each other while gasping for air, your uniforms were soaked but you didn’t care, you both started laughing simultaneously. She grabbed your arm while wheezing like an old man, how could she still be so lovely? You were brought out of your daydream by a sudden splash of water on your face, dumbfounded you looked at a smirking Jisun. “Never let your guard down, love.” In any other moment you would have had a heart attack, but now was no time. You started fighting, running around and giggling when the other lost her balance. All was laughs and games till she tripped and fell on top of you, making you both fall down. You opened your eyes to see a blushing Jisun holding your shoulders, she looked other-worldly. “I know you are Sunset.” You both gasped at your revelation. “You do?” She was looking everywhere trying to avoid your eyes. “I’m so sorry if I creeped you out, I just have the biggest crush on you and I was too afraid to talk to you and I-” You caressed her chin, making her look at you with wide eyes. “I like you too.” “Really?” “How could I not? You are perfect.” Giggling she embraced your neck, looking at your lips with shaking eyes. “Can I?” Instead of answering you closed the almost inexistent space between your lips and kissed her softly. You hugged her closer to yourself, trying to pour all of your feelings in this first kiss. She pulled away with a dreamy sigh leaving her lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” “I literally have been into you since you lent me your crayons, I think I win.” “Why do you think you were the only one who could do that?” You both laughed, shaking all of your nerves off, feeling like you had everything you wanted you kissed her cheek. “We should leave, its going to get dark soon.” “Or...” “Hm?” She quirked her eyebrow at you. “We could wait and watch the sunset together.” She threw her head back while laughing. “And I thought I’d be the cheesy one in the relationship.” Holding hands you cuddled by the shore, not knowing that would be one of the may sunsets you’d watch together.

THE END~<3

21 notes · View notes

chestshot · 3 years

Text

A Cautionary Tale of India Pale

Prepare for Trouble, B-Side: A Cautionary Tale of India Pale,

Dark Holes and Transformations, or My Love Affair with xoxo<3Ms. Hopps <3xoxo

Little children were playing behind me. I was in space. Time was forgiving. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. As the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous, the guardians watch over as we sleep. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “So, where were you?” “I was playing in the dark, and I got lost. I had some breadcrumbs, thankfully.”

“This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?” “I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice.

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let us just say there was hell to pay.

The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy. Never an altar boy.

I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. My arm, bent around my back. Wrists too tight. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside. The neighbors can hear. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. From the guardians, then from bad decisions, and possibly society. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable, waiting for the blackouts to cast a final spell.

“God helps those that help themselves”®…Is not in the bible!

The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young for coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally hungry. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths? Yeah… haven’t been able to hit up hot topic since COVID-19.”

Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white-collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. Not a child anymore. Learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. The dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation. The delinquencies were not ripe. There was not enough blood.

I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. Where had the time gone? Playing with little toy cars and dirt, in the streets of his home country, and now using dentures. There was such an age of trusting that the streetlights were guiding him all along. When he could hear his mother’s voice and know in his heart that the night was near, but only to visit. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share maybe their last breakfast. Listened to your guardians. You might live as long as them.

One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. Pero esta es la casa de Dios.” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Bandage them up and throw them in the dirt. Suffering is the polished rock for sharp claws and feasting vultures. This psychic in San Francisco told me that I would be responsible for what I touch and what I know. I did not let him read my palm. I was swimming in ignorance, and the spirit would guide me.

Their little Calcutta souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. Those little Calcutta souls were all fucked. I think we suffer because we think we must. We like to convince ourselves that it’s all part of some divine plan. We suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

Last week, and then the week before, and before that. I lost a part of me. I’ve lost a few parts of me. Like a lot. Who was I? I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth. The beer was gone. It was a scared man. No. A big bad wolf. My tail was between my legs. I was pitiful. My drinking career choked on it’s vomit. My guardian told me there was going to be hell to pay.

I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I see is stars. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if there was a line. Couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? Always have to start a fight during a meal. If you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals, our fists made toasts to live long and pasta. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was sensitive from the binge before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. Nap. Bagel. Throw up.

SpaghettiOs. That’s not pasta. That’s an impasta.

My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes. If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

I had never wanted to grow up. I was so afraid that I would grow up to be a man with a wife and a house. I sounded like one of those kids who shits all over “the nuclear family” and the “white picket fence”. I had even said “I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to bring more suffering into the world.” Then I would roll my eyes, take a puff of my cigarette and be proud of how postmodern I was.

The truth is, I was 26 years old, holding a fucking sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos at some Piano Lounge. Nobody wanted to marry me. I was living at my mothers house. I didn’t have a car or a drivers license. I hated everything I didn’t have. I still had my Lagunitas though. 7.1% a bottle meant I got nice and toasty after a six pack.

The Jack and Coke was just a nice butter and marmalade on top. Can’t have a nice toast without some warm butter and tangerine marmalade, raspberry jam. Ex-Pentecostal Holly Roller. I was so mad about that God Shit. I broke bread with my damaged complexion. I was a messy eater, leaving crumbs everywhere. Licking my claws like that racoon from Pocahontas. Like that, but still a big bad wolf…

I was on my way to the "party bridge" on the Las Vegas strip. I had just got off the bus, after a 6-8 hour shift holding a sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos. The job was shit, but it didn’t require much interaction with people. God, I used to hate people.

When I got there, the police were harassing a group of street performers. I like to get faded, and I like to do it on the street. I buy some street performers some beers, ask if I can play a couple of songs on their acoustic guitar, and we get smashed. The police were pissing on my parade and I was not going to let that happen.

I went to the CVS and bought a case of PBR. When I got back to the bridge, I started handing out some cans to the street kids being interrogated. The police told me to stop, and I did not listen. I got arrested for obstructing an officer and resisting arrest. This was probably one of the most punk rock things I ever did in my life. Resisting authority was my raspberry jam. I liked that it made me feel bad to the bone. I felt like even more of a bad ass when I offered the holy spirit into my life, on the rocks with a pickle back shot.

The police officer put me in handcuffs and took me to the cop car, outside of the Aria. I thought that I was standing up for the street performers. Really, I was just sticking my nose where it did not belong. When I got to the detention center downtown, the nurse asked me some questions. “Do you have a history of cocaine use in your family?” “Tu Madre!” I said. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? Faster than you can say “Pharmaceutical petty punks pretentiously pandered pedestrians” Five correction officers pin me to the wall. One of them had my arm bent behind my back and they were waiting for any reason to snap off my ring finger.

I stretched out my ear lobes. The holes were wide enough to stick a sharpy permanent marker through. One of the guards whispered in my ear “I like to rip out gauges.” My body went limp. I was going to get ripped apart like a fucking lasagna. “Please don’t do that.” One of the other guards brought in a retainment seat, on wheels. Think of an elementary school chair with straps. The blue ones, or orange, sometimes. Class was in session.

I was wheeled to a retaining room with another inmate who had acted out. He had asked to use the restroom, so he was granted the privilege to defecate. They wheeled him away. I pissed myself. One of the guards came in to get me and realized what I had done. “Son of a bitch.” He said under his breath, realizing that he still had to maintain professionalism. The female officer following him said “Mark.” With disapproval. Fuck authority. I’m still a big bad wolf. Its society that has to change. Do you know who I think I am? I’m no impasta.

The secret to having a good time is to show up to the bar with a few ounces of hard liquor already in your system. You save money and time. The bartender can never cut you off because they don’t even know what you act like when you’re sober. They’re not aware of the transformation. Pretty soon, I’m the big bad wolf with a bad haircut and jeans my mother bought for me at Ross. I say “LAGUNITAS” and the bartender takes my five. A cautionary tale of India pale: this shit will turn your brain to shit. Shit toast. From a shithole tavern, or Albertsons if I was emo and wanted to drink alone at the park.

I always went to the bar by myself. I would try and make conversations if I was feeling sociable. The best way to do this was to smoke a cigarette, and let the acquaintances come rolling in. “I’ll tell you a joke for a cigarette” was always a good conversation starter. I would have also accepted “hey man, can I give you a dollar for a cigarette? I left mine at home.” I didn’t always have spare cash, but when I did, I liked to drink around strangers and not feel the isolation covering me, like stars just beyond my reach. Like aircrafts. Black night sky. The tar in community college lungs. Little Red Riding Hood didn’t show up. Probably cause her sisters were talking shit about me. It’s ok. I’m still big and bad.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish. Deep dish pizza.

Cheap not-the-real-Bel-Air hotel. Right on the corner of Ellis and Jones. Junkies were chasing dragons in high definition on the sidewalk. God checked out. No housekeeping. Ash tray on the nightstand, some beer cans, and $6.14 in cash. What a splash. Making out with Hopps. She gives my stomach purple ulcer butterflies. Sedates my lungs a car crash plum. Mind calming lavender razorblades cut gently. Her love is a condor. She picks at my liver like silver bullets diving into passion fruit scum.

#publish #recovery #non fiction #pulp #fight club

0 notes

chestshot · 4 years

Text

Creature in the dark love to scare the little children. The grownups say a prayer, and the demons are forced to return to the shadow realm. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. Come in as soon as the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “Where were you?” “I don’t know” was never the right answer. It is never going to be the right answer. “Stop crying. I’ll give you something to cry about.”

In this house, the belt and extension cords keep the disobedient in line. Sticks leave bruises. No Bueno. Back straight. “This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?” “Porque yo soy la puta que te pario (because I am the bitch that birthed you). I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice. We were made to carry these bags above our head for twenty minute and think about how we were not supposed to fight. She went easy on us this time. “Now kiss your sister and tell her you love her and you’re sorry.”

The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. It was a fundraiser. As if the crusades did not provide enough funding. As if the parish had not given enough during the second collection. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let’s just say there was hell to pay.

I went to Sunday school. I had to. Otherwise I could not get baptized or have my first communion. The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. At the baptism, donations were formally encouraged. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy, but never good enough to be an altar boy.

I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. Now a grip on the arm, bent around my back. Too tight on the wrists. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside, but couldn’t I have just done a shitty job or at least bullshit? Close the door. The neighbors can hear. Plus, the ac is on. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. If not from the guardians, then from bad decisions. I want to make them happen, but I always keep getting in my own way. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable. Just waiting for the blackouts to swallow me whole.

God helps those that help themselves…. Wait.. That’s not in the bible!

The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young to get hooked on coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally as hungry after service. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths. This is not funny. Oh… you guys hung him like this? Why? He was giving everyone free healthcare and food and shit. He doesn’t deserve this shit! Bring him down! Now!”

Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. I was not a child anymore. I was learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. They say “Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” I could have only imagined why, but the dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation. The delinquencies of adolescence were not yet ripe. There was not enough blood.

One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. (it would be cool if this was a Quincenera) Pero esta es la casa de Dios (but this is the house of God).” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Their souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. I think we suffer because we think we must, like it’s all part of the greater picture. I also think we suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

August 15thth, 2020, 2:30 A.M.-ish

I said I was going to work on it las week, and then the week before. I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I could see was stars at that point. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if you consider waiting in line. Why couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? People always have to start a fight during a meal, or beer, if you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was still sensitive from the binge the night before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. I’m not going to lie.

Well that’s great news, kind sir, because I can not condone dishonesty. Now please leave the patrons alone or get out of the bar.

The endless cycle of Life: that our guardians had to beat the shit out of us. So that maybe we could learn. Or so we would avoid the transformation. In the end, we resent their efforts and only make it worse for ourselves. I try to push myself up, but my left arm is too mangled to lift any weight. The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes. If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

The holes are patched up today. I found my way through the dark. My guardians were there all along. I just needed some space. My mind is clear. I can focus again. I can have breakfast again. The nights can be long and dark, but I know the demons have left. My house is in order. My mind is clear. I finally have a clean conscience. I want to go back to the time when I was a child. Back to a time of trusting that the streetlights were guiding me all along. When I could hear my mother’s voice and know in my heart that the night was near, but only to visit.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish is - God’s my witness – you just know** * the nighttime* ** only** came to** visit**.

#author #beat #person of color #litterature #publishing #violence #recovery

0 notes