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rodrickcult · 3 years

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headcanons for being rodrick’s best friend:

warnings: mentions of drinking and sex + kinda strong language ?

english is not my first language so forgive eventual mistakes! hehe

- you both wouldn’t hesitate to get in a fight if you hear someone insulting the other. you once got detention after punching some dude because he said rodrick will never go anywhere in life and rodrick waited in his van outside school then picked you up and almost cried at the sight of your black eye, but then he grabbed your chin and after analyzing your face he came to the conclusion that you looked cool as hell like that

- taking you to buy ice cream and paying because “she got a black eye for me, so it’s on me this time” and the cashier giggles

- everytime someone mentions that they find rodrick cute you start telling them how kind, sweet and funny he is despite the fake persona he puts on around girls and when they question if you like him given how well you speak of him you just reply:”what? no! i’m advertising him”

- rodrick on the other hand just laughs at their faces and says “she’s way too good for you” or “if you ever make her cry consider yourself dead” but if you actually start dating the person he will act ridiculously friendly like “heyyyy *name*, you are such a perfect match, that’s what i’ve been saying you know. i’m so happy!”

- you borrow each other’s clothes so often that sometimes you look down at your dirty black converse and can’t remember if originally they were yours or his

- you tattoo small silly things onto each other and you definitely have the löded diper logo somewhere on yourself

- you love to sing along to songs together. you either do it in his room, pretending you’re playing at a concert and end up listening to some guilty pleasure songs that you wouldn’t dare to jam to if someone else was there to see or in heffley’s kitchen: rodrick sitting on the counter mimicking the drums and you jumping around mimicking the guitar, susan sometimes changes the song without asking so you suddenly start hearing ABBA and rodrick gets soo annoyed lol

- you also do that to cheer yourselves up, if one is sad about someone/something the other will put up a mini concert and act silly until they manage to bring out a laugh (you use his drumstick as a microphone)

- amazing AMAZING chemistry. like he’ll say something like “remember the turtles thing” and you’ll instantly understand what he’s talking about. also same childish sense of humor.

- he truly thinks you’re the coolest person ever, whenever you do something that he finds rad like burp really loud or talk about that time you broke into one of your friends’ ex house because she wanted to take some of her stuff back and he didn’t let her he looks at you in awe and gets flustered because “my best friend is so freaking cool woo-hoo!!!!”

- you love staying at this house because it’s filled with love and chaos in a positive way, whenever you have to go home you’re sad and to survive the fights or the cold silence you cling to the fact that you’ll be at his house again soon. rodrick knows that and always wants you to stay a little longer, so his house ends up being a second home for you

- sitting in the back of his van talking about literally everything

- if you can’t find a significant other you go to prom together as friends and just take the most stupid pics that you’ll look back to and smile. and halfway through the party you’re already bored and just go outside and listen to your punk music

- you get ABSOLUTELY mad at bill at the talent show, you yell in his face that löded diper is nothing without rodrick and you proceed to rip off the paper with the band name that they attached to the drums

- rodrick feels a bit better when he hears your words and you two sit in silence for a while with his head on your shoulder

- then greg convinces their mom to let rodrick play, rodrick hugs you and you two jump up and down in excitement, you thank greg a million times

- you obviously record the exhibition just like you always do. you were there since their first small concert

- you always add your little comments that make rodrick feel so special when he rewatches the videos, like you truly care and are really a fan of their music

- *zooming on rodrick twirling the drumsticks around his fingers in the backstage, waiting for löded diper to be called on stage* “here we can see a drummer in his natural habitat... i’m glad i’m far away because i know by experience that he kinda stinks... anyway you will notice that he’s a bit nervous... and for what? hate to admit it but he’s great at what he does”

- “i hate her” he says to himself while watching the tape, while not being able to stop smiling because he’s so lucky to have you as a friend

- taking care of each other when you’re drunk !!

- he forgets how to do stuff so you have to drag him to his bed and take off his shoes and jacket

- instead you start questioning life and he has to reassure you that you’ll be okay. oh and you absolutely can’t stand. literally zero balance. so it’s so funny when both of you are drunk because who’s gonna be the stable one while walking home?!

- “god i can’t stand you two” – the friend that has to take your annoying asses home

- meeting him at the public swimming pool and dipping because that place is almost as bad a school

- greg asks you what do you see in him since you’re his friend and also a girl, you say you can’t reveal too much because that would be working with the enemy but you assure him that rodrick can be a kind, funny guy and growing up he’ll notice

- greg still thinks you’re a freak for willingly spending time with his brother

- rodrick’s girlfriend finding your clothes in his room and the both of you having to explain it’s just an habit and there’s nothing malicious about it

- rodrick forgetting about you for a week because he’s so obsessed with impressing heather, he comes back saying sorry a million times and saying that he realized it’s not as fun when you’re not around

- rodrick’s mom shipped you guys for a while and even his dad admitted that you were a good match (which he didn’t mean as a positive thing shxjdhd), but after realizing you two are just friends susan felt sad because that meant she had to witness rodrick acting like a douche to impress girls for a bit more

- one of you definitely walked in while the other was having sex with someone lmaoososos

- you couldn’t stop laughing about it when you met afterwards

- “nice c*ck/t*ts (your choice) by the way”

- “SHUT UP but also, thank you”

- you can’t say no to the other’s ideas no matter how stupid they are. rip

- being grateful for the other because “i truly couldn’t have survived school without you”

- eating A LOT of junk food

- going to the cinema to watch horror movies, sometimes he can’t sleep afterwards so you have to hold him and it’s so funny to you

- arguing every once in a while and when his voice rises of a few octaves you can’t help but laugh

- “yo, STOP LAUGHING.”

- “ok squeaky toy”

- “we’re done”

- “noOOOO”

- when it’s more serious one of you always ends up looking for the other and both say sorry

- “i can’t really stay mad at you. i just don’t see the point”

- you’re gonna give speeches at each other’s weddings if you decide to marry and it’s going to be SO chaotic :’)

- WAIT ALSO matching tattoos !!!!

- basically he’d do anything for you and you’d do anything for him and it’s a bond for life babeyyyyyy

(shorter but still cool part 2)

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley headcanons #diary of a wimpy kid #not my rodrick #rodrick cult #mine #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x female reader #rodrick x female reader #rodrick friendship fic #doawk

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1062

survey by chrissylee22dc

Achievements: I guess I’m being asked to list some of mine...some of the ones I’m proudest of, at least, are graduating university with honors, landing a job (liking it is a big bonus), and taking up leadership positions.

Age: I am 22, but never felt quite like it.

Are you planning something right now? Kind of. I’m eyeing a long road trip to Tanay with just myself and go to one of their coffee shops, but idk when I’ll be able to do that. My wallet and bank account are still beat from Christmas lol (and until now I’m still buying gifts for friends), so it might have to wait until sometime next month.

Arizona or Alaska: I think Arizona weather is already quite like ours here, so I might enjoy Alaska a bit (if not a lot) more. There’s generally a lot more factors I find interesting with Alaska, like their food.

Birthdate: April 21st.

Build: I’m quite thin and underweight, but I actually recently made plans to start working out - both to make an effort to be healthy with myself, and also to feel good post-breakup. I’m hoping to see some changes in my body and build in the coming months.

Babies, do you have any? None of those, not sure if that’s still the plan for me.

Blonde or Brunette: Brunette.

Childhood sweetheart: Erm, does Gab count? We technically weren’t kids anymore when we first got together. I wasn’t attracted to anyone as a kid and was more concerned with growing my Pokemon pogs collection.

Current mood: I’m hungry and can go for savory breakfast foods right now, like shakshuka or huevos rancheros. Also a little anxious because I really don’t want to think about work, but tasks continue to pile up for a certain client.

Children, are there more in your future? There aren’t even any to begin with.

Coke or Pepsi: Pepsi just because it reminds me of Punk and my chaotic wrestling fangirl years.

Dad's name: Edgardo, but no one calls him by that full name. He has two nicknames; one of which he hates and only family and friends use, and the other is the name he has permanently introduced himself as in his workplace.

Dating anyone: Not anymore.

Do you plan on having lots of money? Don’t most people?

Dogs or cats: Dogs.

Elementary School: I’m not sharing that.

Eye color: Dark brown/black.

Ever going to China? Probably not right now considering the present situation. I’d love to go to the rural cities and have a peek into their country life.

Early or Late: EARLY. Lateness is a big pet peeve, unless the excuse is super reasonable like Manila traffic or a car accident.

First Crush: The first person I felt remotely attractive to was Andi, from 6th grade. Then she moved to New Zealand and the crush quickly faded out.

Fears: For concrete things, I hate cockroaches and fair rides. For bigger concepts, I fear getting left behind, failing, and not getting approval, and the idea of never being satisfied or happy with who I am, what I’ve done, or where I’ve gone.

Future goals: Have a place of my own, be able to sustain myself, and keep myself alive.

Funny or Serious: I think everyone has to have both sides. I wouldn’t want to hang out long with people who can’t be sat down to just shoot the shit with conversations that go a little deeper. At the same time, I’d be quickly bored with someone who talks about existential or philosophical topics 24/7 and takes everything seriously.

Grandparent's names: On my dad’s side, Dolores and Federico; on my mom’s side, Agnes and Jun. My maternal grandpa is the third in multiple generations of Abelardos in the family, but his nickname is simply ‘Jun,’ because Philippines.

GPA: We don’t measure our grades with that, but we do have a GWA; I’m just not sure how that can be converted to GPA. Mine was in the 1.47 range, which was good enough for cum laude honors. I barely missed out on a magna cum laude honor (which required a 1.45 GWA), so that’s something I’ve always been pressed about and I know I could have clinched it if the pandemic didn’t cancel my final semester, which would’ve given me the chance to pull up my grades.

Going anywhere this weekend? I don’t think so. I want to spend the remaining 5 days of my break completely unproductively.

Giver or Taker: Giver. I like pleasing people.

High School: I attended one school from kindergarten to high school.

Hair color: Black.

Hate anyone for life? I don’t think so. I dislike some people, but I can’t tell if I’ll feel that way for the rest of my life.

Hairspray or Gel: When I’m going somewhere or attending something fancy, I use hair gel to hold my hair down.

In 8th grade, who was your best friend? Eighth grade is freshman year of high school, right? In that case, my best friend was Gabie.

Is ignorance bliss? Sometimes it is. I like no longer being updated about Gabie’s life. Back when I still tried to push my way in, I was miserable. I stopped doing so over the holidays and I just stopped reaching out, stopped trying to communicate, everything. I’ve been a lot happier that way.

Is there anything you wanna share? That’s kinda the goal with every survey I take.

Ice Cream or Cake: Right now, maybe ice cream. I’m very picky about cake, and I don’t like the spongy ones aka most cakes I know.

Jumped rope for fun: That’s exactly what I use jump ropes for. I don’t think I ever used it for fitness or working out except for maybe PE.

Junk around you right now? I mean, not really. I have my embroidery stuff in a pile beside me, but I don’t consider them junk.

Joining anything anytime soon? Not planning on it. I briefly considered joining a gym as a new thing to do for 2021, but in the end I figured working out at home would be enough. Angela recommended the latter as well, so that’s how I abandoned my gym plans quickly haha.

January or July: I guess July? January always feels just a teeny bit stranger than other months, considering it’s the beginning of a new year.

Killed anyone: ...This serious?

Keeping a secret? I keep different secrets from different people.

Kicking someone off your top friends today? I don’t think that’s a thing anymore. Hasn’t been for a while.

Kiwi or Apple: Apple, just because I’ve never had the chance to taste kiwi.

Lost anyone close to you: I’ve lived 22 years, of course I have. I’d be very surprised if someone has lived that long but has never experienced losing people, whether from a fallout, from death, etc. Just this year alone I lost a great-aunt on my maternal grandpa’s side, and a ton of relatives from my maternal grandma’s side.

Last kiss, when and who: Gabie, three months ago.

List 3 people that you'll love forever: I can only think of Angela. And of course, Gab.

Lover or Fighter: Fighter, I suppose. I can be relentless. Right now with my breakup has been the only time I allowed myself to take a step back and not forcibly take things under my control for once.

Middle School: We don’t follow the concept of middle school here. The levels in middle school fall under elementary school as well.

Marital Status: Single.

Mom's name: Abigail.

Music or TV: TV.

Northernmost state you've been to: Batanes, which is as northernmost as northernmost gets in the Philippines.

Nickname: A lot of family members call me Byn, but for the most part Robyn has always been my main nickname.

Name your future boy and girl: I have yet to make up my mind about this.

Naughty or Nice: Nice. I never particularly feel ~naughty, and since the breakup I especially haven’t felt the need to be sexual.

Opened a piece of mail that wasn't yours? Sometimes I’ll open the electricity or water bill addressed to my parents out of curiosity just to find out how much we consumed in the last month. But nothing more than that.

Occupation: I’m an associate at a PR agency.

Owe anyone money: Nope.

Outgoing or Shy: Shy at first but I can get outgoing once I’ve warmed up to a person/situation.

Place you most want to be? Right now? I’d love to be at a coffee shop or bar at a higher altitude, with a view of the city. I used to go to a lot of these before the pandemic hit, but now I’m thinking of doing it again.

Purposely destroyed someone’s life? No.

Planning a major trip? Not really. Most tourist spots require swab tests and I am not having anything go up my nose.

Pink or Black? Love both, but I like pink ever so slightly more.

Quit a class: I’ve never dropped a class. I’ve wanted to, but there was so much paperwork to fill out to do so and I also didn’t want to be behind on my overall schedule.

Quickly...the first word to come to mind: Whistle, because the pink/black question reminded me of Blackpink.

Quitting your job soon? No lol I’m barely two months in.

Quiet or Loud: I can be both, but these days I’ve been quieter.

Riding in an airplane: I have no idea what this is asking.

Ride, tell me about yours: ^ Same.

Running for any political office in the future? No plans to.

Rain or Snow: I guess rain, since it’s the only one I’ve experienced.

Siblings names and ages: Nina is 20, my brother is 17.

Shoe size: I fit anywhere between a size 6 to 7.

Shave daily? It used to be daily, but I haven’t had the need to since the quarantine began.

Shower or Bath: Shower.

Turning 21 was (will be): It’s been a year since then.

Texas, ever been? No but I have relatives who live there, so it’s one of my choice states to visit and stay at if I ever plan to go to the US.

Think you'll live to be 100? I doubt it. I don’t have any relatives who lived until that age.

Tame or Wild: Idk, tame I guess?? I don’t know what this is asking.

Unique quality about you: I feel like this is a question best answered by other people who see and interact with me more than I do myself.

Underwear on? Yeah.

Under your bed lies: Large containers with all the magazines I collected from childhood that I can’t bring myself to throw out.

Under or Over: Idk, you have to be more specific.

Virgin? No.

Vacation time left? I have five days left, including today :( I plan to be the most unproductive or bum-y I’ve ever been, because I have no clue when I’ll have a break this long again.

Voting in the next Presidential election? Of course.

Volleyball or Swimming: I like swimming more, but I like watching volleyball.

Went white water rafting? I don’t think so, but I would give it a shot.

Wearing right now: A hoodie that’s around two sizes bigger for me.

Write a sentence about you: About anything? I’m a little upset with myself for having been a bit lousy with survey-taking during the holiday break. I planned on taking a lot to catch up on the ones I’ve missed out on, but so far I mostly take just one a day lol.

West Coast or East Coast: East.

X-Rays in the past month: 0.

X-Mas plans: Had a get-together with my mom’s side of the family on the 24th; we hosted our own Christmas party on the 25th; and we visited my dad’s side of the family on the 26th.

X, does it mark the spot? Idk.

X-Tina or Britney? Britney.

You lost "it" when? I mean, I’ve had more than one moment where I freaked out...

Your favorite song: I’m really in love with Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House. My favorite songs come and go, but this one has been a constant.

Your favorite place on Earth: Sagada.

Yes or No: Idk. I’m not enjoying these vague ass questions.

Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

Zodiac Sign: Idk, I’m still a Taurus.

Zippos are neat, agree? I don’t have an opinion.

Zoo or Circus: Neither.

#survey #surveys

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years

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Doppelgänger (6/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{13}

“He had a living shadow,” Sam was explaining as the trio made their way through the fairgrounds. “It was pretty cool, until the stupid thing managed to release the ghost snake and I had to spend another hour chasing it down. Though, it would have been a lot easier if I wasn’t alone.”

“Sorry Sam,” Danny said, leaning into her side. “Apparently, Dad put in a fingerprint scanner to lock the portal and wanted to show it off. I had to convince my dad to stop before he let the whole ghost zone out, not to mention try to figure out how to get you guys access.”

“How’d that go?” Tucker asked.

“Dad took forever to stop, but once he did it didn’t take long to add you guys. Jazz helped.”

“Really?” Sam said. “Why?”

Danny shrugged. “She’s been weirdly helpful since Spectra. She’s been helping keep mom and dad off my case and everything. Maybe she’s worried I’ll stop hanging out with her again?”

“Maybe.” Sam nudged Tucker. “So that’s why Danny couldn’t help. What’s your excuse for ditching me?”

“Mom asked her friend’s daughter to tutor me in history. I had to leave to meet her at the library then walk her home.”

“Did you flirt with her?” Danny asked.

“How bad was the turndown?” Sam added.

“You’re both terrible partners.”

Danny pulled away from Sam to cuddle up to Tucker, kissing his cheek. “You know we’re just teasing.”

Tucker wrapped his arm around Danny with a glare. “You’re too adorable for your own good.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up. “I’m not adorable.”

“You are. It’s not fair when you use it against us,” Sam said.

“I’m not adorable. And I don’t use it against you.”

“Not on purpose,” Sam agreed with a smirk. “You’re too oblivious for that.”

Danny rolled his eyes and pulled away. His eyes caught on where his sister was waiting for him by an art stall and he smiled. “Alright, I’ll catch up with you guys later. Jazz!”

“Hey Danny,” she greeted. She stared at a painting of a clown as he ran up to her. “What does this say to you?”

“It says My name’s Joe. Why? What does it say to you?”

“I’m serious,” she huffed.

“So am I.” He laughed and ducked away when she tried to mess with his hair. “Come on, I want to kick your butt at Ring Toss.”

“You’re on, little brother!”

Jazz ended up winning at Ring Toss, but Danny beat her at darts. The two were heading towards the Skee-Ball booth for a tiebreaker when screams sounded overhead. They looked up to see the roller coaster train had jumped the tracks. Danny spotted Sam and Tucker carrying the train’s passengers to safety, but the train was heading straight for the siblings.

Danny grabbed his sister. He was about to use his intangibility, secret or no, but then suddenly they were next to a booth and the train smashed to the ground ten yards away.

The siblings gaped at the crash, then turned to each other.

Danny started panicking, sure that he had just done… something to get them out of the way.

Jazz gave a shaky laugh. “Wow, that was crazy. I was sure it was headed for us for a second there. Guess fear really does mess with your head.”

“Y-yeah.” She didn’t notice! Danny didn’t know how she didn’t notice, but he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

He nodded and looked back to the train as his ghost sense went off. What just happened?

That stupid shadow ghost is back! Sam said.

“Are you alright?” Danny and Jazz turned as a guy on a motorcycle came up to them. He smiled at Jazz and looked her over. “That looked close.”

“We’re okay,” Danny said, then frowned when the guy gave him a quick annoyed look before focusing back on Jazz.

“I think you dropped this.” The guy handed Jazz the stuffed owl Danny had won her -- Jazz had won a teddy bear covered in stars for Danny -- with a smile and wink. “The name’s Johnny.”

Danny blinked. Was he… flirting with Jazz?

Gross.

“Thanks. I’m Jasmine. Jazz.”

Danny smirked and leaned towards her. “Should I give you two some privacy?”

She elbowed him.

“I’m glad you’re okay. You look cold though.” The guy pulled a scarf out of his jacket and held it out. “Here.”

Danny shivered and felt Jazz do the same. He looked around with a frown as she said, “I couldn’t.”

“It’s fine, take it.” He smiled as Jazz hesitated, then took it from him. “I bet you’ll look great in it, Kitten.”

“My name’s not Kitten,” Jazz said as she put it on. Then her smile widened. “But you can call me that, if you want.”

Wait, was Jazz flirting back?

Double gross.

“Ride home, kitten?”

Jazz gasped and moved to climb onto the bike.

Danny caught her arm. “What are you doing? You don’t even know this guy.”

She yanked her arm away with a glare. “Lay off. I can handle myself.”

“What about us-time?”

“I want to go home. I know you can get home on your own.”

“Ja-”

“Bye, Danny,” she snapped, climbing onto the bike and putting on the helmet.

“Bye,” he said as the bike took off. “Wow, and I thought I was an idiot with my crushes… I shouldn’t follow her… She will definitely kick my butt if she finds out…”

Danny transformed and followed the bike invisibly.

Thankfully Johnny did take her home, if on a bit of a circuitous path. She seemed happy about it though so Danny couldn’t hold it against the guy.

He left them at the door and headed to the lab. He couldn’t go to his room without raising questions, so he figured he might as well clean up the lab then head into the zone and check on Cujo and the blobs.

He had just put away the last beaker when someone opened the door to the lab. He quickly changed back as Jazz and Johnny came down the stairs, his sister wearing a red leather jacket he’d never seen before.

“Danny? What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, uh, hey Jazz! Just, uh, doing my chores. Yeah. Nice jacket.”

She smiled and turned to her date. “Johnny gave it to me.”

Okay, a scarf was one thing, but a jacket? “Right. What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for some privacy. So scram,” Johnny said.

Danny was slightly surprised -- and hurt -- Jazz didn’t react to his rudeness, but pushed it down. Instead, he gave her an incredulous look. “You wanted a secret place to make out and you brought him here. To our parents' lab. Where they spend almost all their waking hours.”

Jazz frowned and looked around, confused.

“Don’t you have better things to do than bug us, kid?”

Danny ignored the older boy and set his hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “Seriously, do you want mom and dad to walk in on you? I thought you were smarter than that. Take him up to the Ops Center, at least.”

She pulled away from him, but his hand caught on the scarf, causing both to slip down her shoulder. Both began to glow green.

Before Danny could react, Johnny grabbed him and yanked him away. “You know what, punk? We’ve had just about enough of you.”

Sam had mentioned a biker ghost was controlling the shadow. Danny’s ghost sense had gone off just before Johnny had ridden up.

I’m an idiot, Danny thought. “You’re a ghost!”

“Scared?” Johnny chuckled, aura flaring up.

Danny closed his eyes to hide the flash of red as he reached into his Space Fold behind his back and pulled out the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. He opened his eyes and smirked. “Dude, my parents are ghost hunters.”

Then he hit the ghost in the head with the ectoplasm saturated bat.

Johnny dropped him with a yelp, grabbing the side of his face. Then he shot Danny a deadly glare. “Shadow.”

The biker’s shadow lifted off the ground and growled at Danny.

A throat cleared and the three turned to see Jazz glaring at the ghosts, the Fenton Ghost Peeler wrapped around her. She aimed the gun at the shadow. “Hands off the little brother,” she said before blasting it.

It shrieked under the light, writhing as the darkness was peeled away to nothing.

“Oh, no! My Shadow! My Power!” Johnny shouted and froze when Jazz turned the gun on him.

“In you go, creep,” she said, gesturing to the portal with her head.

Smiling, Danny walked over and opened it, bat bouncing against his shoulder.

Johnny sent him a poisonous look. “This isn’t over, kid.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at him.

“And take your junk with you,” Jazz said, kicking the scarf and jacket.

Johnny grabbed them and left.

“Don’t come back soon,” Danny called as he closed the portal. He turned to Jazz as she disengaged the peeler. “That still looks weird.”

“Yeah.” She pulled him into a hug. “Thanks. Who knows what that ghost would have done to me if you hadn’t been here.”

“I just hit him with a bat. You’re the one that blasted the shadow.”

She pulled back to look at the bat. “I thought that was just an ordinary bat that mom slapped a sticker on. How’d it hurt him?”

“Oh, I, uh, soaked it in ectoplasm.” And by that, he meant he let a ghost dog slobber all over it and use it for fetch. “I’m just glad it was close enough for me to reach.”

“Sure.” She kissed the top of his head. “You’re the best little brother.”

“Ugh! Gross, Jazz!”

{Public Enemies, Part 1}

“I’m exhausted,” Danny moaned.

“What is going on in the zone? We’ve never needed all three of us out all night,” Sam said, leaning against Tucker.

“At least most of them are all low levels. They’re more annoying than anything,” he huffed. “I need a nap though.”

“- over to Principal Ishiyama, who's here to inform you of some exciting rules and restrictions,” the mayor was saying as the trio tuned back into the assembly.

“This is going to end badly,” Danny muttered.

“I swear if they make it harder for us to transform, I’m just going to leave them to the ghosts,” Tucker said and both his partners elbowed him. “Ow! I was just kidding!”

“Due to the continuing and escalating ghost threat,” the principal said as she came onstage, “here's the way we're going to limit your freedom: One, students are to have no contact with these spirits.”

“You heard her Sam, get off,” Tucker joked and tried to nudge the tired girl off his shoulder.

She jabbed him in the side, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Two, all students will be escorted directly to their homes after school. And three, by order of the Mayor's new security advisor, a nine o'clock curfew.”

“A curfew?” Sam hissed.

“An escort?” Tucker groaned.

“OK, who's the idiot security advisor that came up with those lame ideas?” Danny huffed and leaned into Tucker’s other side.

The door to the auditorium slammed open and Danny’s dad yelled into a megaphone, “Fear not, young ones! We're here to make sure this school is prepared for any ghost emergency!”

Danny whined and hid his face in Tucker’s neck.

“You must be cautious! At any time one of these ectoplasmic malefactors -- Hi, sweetie! -- could appear out of nowhere!”

Danny didn’t want to know if his mom had singled him out or Jazz. He really didn’t. “Time to sit in the back where nobody can notice us?”

“Time to sit in the back where nobody can notice us.”

The three sluggishly got up and slipped to the back of the auditorium, ignoring Danny’s parents as they went on and on about how terrible ghosts were.

Then their ghost senses went off.

“Oh no. You have got to be kidding me. Here? Now?” Danny asked as Sam grabbed both their arms and started dragging them towards the doors. The crowds were making it impossible to get out together, though. And then a werewolf ghost was grabbing them by their linked arms.

“Servi!” it growled before Danny’s mom blasted it away.

They tried to chase after the ghost when it fled, only to come face to face with Lancer as soon as they were out the door.

“Bridget Jones' diary, kids! Stop your screaming and get over there into the safe area!”

They all scowled, but allowed themselves to be shoved back towards their classmates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Our parents invited the A-listers over to be trainee ghost hunters,” the trio said as Danny met up with Sam and Tucker. He handed them each a thermos then they split up. “We’re surprised Paulina would risk her hair like that. We’re more surprised they’d want to spend time with our parents. They always make fun of them. We can’t wait to toss that blabbering hairball who started this back into the ghost zone. We don’t think it was blabber. We think it was Esperanto.”

Danny and Sam frowned as the information floated from Tucker to them.

“Do you think we could look up more of the language to figure out what he was saying? Or talk to our fellow nerds? We can try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three ran towards the trees after the wolf ran past their lunch table. They froze when they saw Jazz hiding there.

“Danny, Sam, Tucker, hi. Are you hiding here?” Jazz pointed down, looking over the three. “I'll go hide over there.”

“That was weird,” Tucker said as she ran off.

“It is Jazz,” Sam pointed out.

“No time for that. Let’s go ghost.”

The three transformed and shot off towards the wolf.

“Walker,” they growled as Sam pointed at the ghost police following the wolf. Then they scattered to dodge a green blast. It shot past them and hit the guards, sucking them through a portal.

“Whoa! Portable ghost portal? Oh great. Can we get one of those? Too clunky.”

They continued the chase to see the remaining guard fire a gun that shot out ectoplasmic ropes to catch the wolf’s tail.

“He’s hurting him,” they said as the wolf was electrocuted. “We have to help. If Walker's goons are after him, he can't be all bad.”

Tucker flew past the goon, shutting down the gun with a wave of his hand and leaving his partners to fight him off as he intercepted the wolf. It glared at him and he held up his hands to show he wasn’t armed. “Friend. Uh, amiko?”

The wolf sniffed him then licked his cheek. “Ugh, why couldn’t the dog person deal with this. We’re the only one who can sort of understand him.”

“Alright nobody move!” Tucker turned to see Danny’s Dad standing in a bush, tangled Fenton Fisher in hand. The man frowned when he realized what was wrong and started tugging at the line. “As soon as I get this thing untangled, you two beasties are going down.”

“It’s okay, he’s not a threat,” they said quietly as Sam and Danny came closer, having run off Walker’s goon. “It’s our mom you have to worry about.”

“Vere?”

Danny spotted his mom in a tree, targeting the wolf, and all four quickly fled. They landed on a nearby building.

The wolf glanced between the trio and growled something in Esperanto, but they could only pick up something along the lines of not and one.

“You mean us? Yes, we’re not one.” They all transformed.

“Guess it’s a little more obvious with animal instincts,” Danny said.

“We need to find somewhere you can stay,” Sam said.

“Tuck, think you can do something about that collar?” Danny asked.

The wolf growled and Tucker held up his hands. “It’s okay, no touching is needed.” His eyes turned purple. “Wow, this is kind of complex. Okay, I think I’ve… Yes!”

The collar fell to the ground.

“Mi libera!” the wolf barked, hands going to his neck.

“Of course you’re free. You -” The wolf ran off. “You're welcome!”

"Follow him,” Danny said, grabbing two thermoses out of the fold and tossing them to Sam and Tucker. “I need to go get the spare thermos I hid in my locker. Mom stole my other one. It’s probably going to be another long night.”

They nodded and transformed. Sam and Tucker followed the wolf as Danny went back to the school. He’d just grabbed the thermos when he heard voices.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #Doppelgänger au

11 notes · View notes

snappedsky · 3 years

Text

Fanatics 78

Pepito’s band prepares to play for a festival.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

The Spring Festival

The blaring of an alarm knocks Pepito out of his sleep. He rolls over, groaning as he slaps his phone, shutting it off.

As he sits up, he checks the screen. No notifications.

He sighs heavily as he checks the date. “One week since Squee left.”

Later at Skool, Pepito glowers depressingly at the lunch table, poking at the mystery meat from the cafeteria. Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz glare at him wearily.

“Irk, you’re pathetic,” Tak snaps, “get over it already, will you? You think Squee would like it if he knew you were like this?” “Well, Squee’s not here to know anything,” Pepito retorts, pouting.

“You make me sick,” she hisses.

“As much as I hate to agree with Tak,” Zim says, “she has a point. You need to pick yourself up already. You’re an embarrassment.”

In response, Pepito sticks his tongue out at him. Zim irks and prepares to attack him but Dib holds him back.

Gaz side-eyes Pepito as she plays her Game Slave. “Has he called you at all?”

“Nope,” he replies.

“Have you called him?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think he’s lying around all depressed like you?”

“Huh?” Pepito questions, glaring at her.

“Probably,” she replies, “but he has every reason to. What’s your reason? You miss your boyfriend?”

He flinches, offended. “Well…I can’t help it if I miss him.”

“Maybe not. But you also have no reason to drag the rest of us down with you.”

“What are you-?”

“You know the Spring Festival starts next week,” Gaz says, cutting him off.

“The…Spring Festival?” Pepito questions.

“Seriously? You haven’t heard?” Dib asks, “Mayor Von wants to hold a bunch of events in the city and he’s starting with the Spring Festival. It starts next Friday and goes all weekend. There’s gonna be a bunch of vendors, rides, events.”

“Like a live music event for volunteering musicians,” Gaz adds.

Pepito blinks blankly. “Live…music…?”

“Moron!” she barks, making him flinch backwards. “Maddie sent me this because she was too scared to show it to your mopey face!”

She shows him her phone. On screen is a poster featuring a large, brightly lit stage surrounded by the words: “Calling all musicians! Want a chance to showcase your talent in front of a live audience? Then sign up for the music event at the Spring Festival!”

Pepito just blinks as he stares at it.

“Get it now, idiot?” Gaz snaps, “because of your petty feelings, you could’ve missed this. So what are you gonna do now?”

Pepito stares ahead blankly for a second before scowling with determination and drawing his phone.

Pepito: can we do a band meeting at your place tonight

Carmen: No problem~!

Pepito quickly sends a text to their other bandmates before lowering his phone. Then he takes a deep breath and grins.

The others all smile with relief.

“About time,” Tak comments.

That night, Pepito, Carmen, Maddie, and Colton get together to discuss the festival. Thankfully, it’s Friday and next week is Spring Break, so they got lots of time.

They spend the rest of the week determining their set and practicing. It’s the hardest they’ve ever practiced. This is tremendously different from their last gig, which they played in front of a bunch of drunk partiers who would’ve loved anything. This time, the pressure is real. But they’re all excited.

Next Friday quickly rolls around; the first day of the Spring Festival. So they decide to take the day off and join Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz at the fairgrounds.

The majority of the festival is taking place in a large park. The first day is all about the vendors. Booths have been set up all over the field with vendors selling all kinds of things: food, clothing, toys, and more, all homemade. And the place is packed with fairgoers.

“Wow, this is a total hit,” Carmen comments.

“Yeah, Von’s really pulling out all the stops,” Dib adds, “I’m impressed.”

“He’s taking his job as mayor seriously,” Pepito remarks.

“Tch. I would’ve done better,” Zim says bitterly.

They spend most of the day wandering around, perusing the booths. Into the early afternoon, as they pass a seemingly random vendor, a familiar voice calls out to them.

“Hey, kids.” They turn towards the booth to see Devi sitting behind it. Spread out on the table are tons of prints, all painted by her.

“Devi,” Pepito smiles as they approach. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. You changed your hair.” She grins as she runs her hand through her new haircut. It’s all black with the right side hanging down to her shoulder and the left side shaved down to a buzz cut. “Yeah, I finally did it yesterday. Cool, right?”

“It totally is,” Colton agrees excitedly.

“Yeah, very punk,” Carmen adds, “I should get a cut like that.”

“You got your own booth? That’s cool,” Gaz comments, “you got it for the whole weekend?”

“No,” Devi sighs, “just for today. I couldn’t afford the rent.” “Well, one day is still good,” Dib says as he flips through her prints. They’re all dark and often of monstrous creatures. “You sell much?”

“I’ve only had a couple customers,” she replies, “I think I scare most people away. But the ones who do like my stuff buy multiple.”

“Your art is really good,” Maddie says in awe.

“Hm,” Pepito hums with consideration. “You know, I’ve been thinking for a while we need some kind of design on the bass drum. Could you paint us something?”

“I’d love to help,” Devi replies, “but I’m indie now. You’ll have to buy a commission.”

“How much?”

She leans back in her chair, rolling her neck. “You know what, I’ll give you a discount. 75 bucks.”

Pepito glances between his bandmates, who all nod agreeably. “Deal,” he says, “ah, but can you do it before Sunday?”

“Why?” Devi questions.

“We’re doing the music event,” he smiles, “and it’d be awesome to show it off for the first time then.”

She nods agreeably. “Alright. But I’ll need to the pay first.”

Pepito, Carmen, Maddie, and Colton quickly dig around in their pockets. They divvy up their cash until they have seventy-five dollars and drop it on her booth.

“Fuck, you guys work fast,” Devi comments, “alright. I’ll get a couple designs ready and tomorrow you can choose one to paint on.”

“Sweet,” Pepito cheers and the others grin excitedly.

They leave Devi to check out the rest of the vendors. While she waits for customers, she opens her sketchbook and gets to work on some designs.

The next day, most of the same vendors are still set up, but the nearby street has been closed off for fair rides. A small rollercoaster, a ferris wheel, a drop tower, and a few different spinning rides have been set up; also fair games and food vendors.

The kids are excited for this one, ready to gorge themselves on rides and junk food. But first, the band has business to attend to in the seating area.

Devi is there waiting for them. She passes them her sketchbook as they sit across from her at the picnic table.

“Pick one,” she says, “I can have it painted today and it should be dry by tomorrow morning. Plenty of time for you to set up for the show.”

“We all have to agree,” Carmen points out. Pepito, Maddie, and Colton nod and they open the book.

Devi sketched out four designs, all of them darkly themed and featuring the band name ‘Hellz Rebels’. It takes a few minutes of deliberation before they finally decide.

“This one,” Pepito declares, handing her back the book.

“Okay,” Devi nods, “I’ll just need access to the drums and I can get to work.”

“They’re at my apartment,” Carmen says as she grabs her house key. “Take my key. My dad’s at work right now but I’ll let him know you’re there.” “Cool. I’ll let you know when I’m done,” Devi waves before leaving.

“I’m feeling pretty excited,” Maddie comments.

“Me too,” Colton nods, “but can we go on the rides now?”

The rest of the day is spent riding the rides, eating junk food, and playing games. By the end of the day, they’re all pretty wiped. But they’re not so tired to not go to Carmen’s and check out Devi’s finished work.

“What do you think?” she asks as she cleans up her painting gear. “I finished a little bit ago. Make sure not to touch it so the paint dries.”

Pepito, Carmen, Maddie, and Colton all smile excitedly as they look at the new design on their bass drum: a large claw painted as if it’s smashing through the drum, with its fingers folded around the words ‘Hellz Rebels’.

“We are so ready for tomorrow,” Pepito smirks.

The next morning, the band gets up around eight and, after breakfast, meet at Carmen’s place. They load the drum kit into her dad’s truck and he drives them to the fairgrounds.

The events don’t begin for another two hours, but the field is already busy with all the musicians. Pepito and the others make their way through the crowd with their instruments to the event coordinator.

“Name?” she asks.

“Uh Hellz Rebels,” Pepito replies.

“Right,” she says as she looks over a clipboard. “You guys will be on at 2:00. You can leave your instruments behind the stage but keep an eye on them. We’re not responsible for any stolen property.”

“Alright, thanks,” he nods and they head across the field to where the stage is set up. Lots of other bands are hanging around the back with their instruments.

“So we got a long time to wait,” Carmen comments.

“Yeah, just chill I guess,” Colton shrugs as he sits in the grass.

They all join him as Pepito fiddles with some kind of speaker device.

“What’s that, Pepito?” Maddie asks.

“A recording device,” he replies, “I’m gonna attach it to the mic when we go on so we can record our set and send it to Squee.” “Oh, that’s a good idea,” Carmen remarks.

“Yeah, it’s too bad he can’t be here,” Colton points out, “he would’ve loved to watch us.”

“Yeah, it would’ve been nice knowing he’s in the crowd,” Pepito says and gestures with the recorder. “But this is the next best thing. And I think he’ll appreciate it.”

The others start to agree when they’re interrupted by a sudden ruckus; somebody shouting in frustration. Everyone peeks around the stage to get a look and sees a person, a teen boy in Goth attire, getting angry at the event coordinator.

“I demand to be let on!” he barks, “everyone must here my voice!”

“I already told you,” the coordinator argues impatiently, “you didn’t sign up and we’re completely booked. We have no time for you.”

“Blasphemy!” he snaps, “censorship! I will not be held down!”

Without another word, he stomps away, leaving everyone to stare after him, baffled.

“What a tool,” Pepito comments and the others laugh in agreement.

Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz arrive later, around eleven. Much of the same vendors are still there, but new ones are too selling music related items, like CDs for the indie bands playing today. They wander around for a bit before heading to the stage, where the musicians have already started playing. Currently up is a saxophonist playing some soulful jazz.

“Looks like there’s gonna be a lot of variety,” Dib remarks.

“I only care about Maddie,” Gaz grunts as she takes out her Game Slave.

“Human music is so unappealing,” Zim comments.

“You like Pepito’s music,” Dib points out.

“That’s different,” he insists.

“Why do you call it ‘human music’?” Tak scoffs, “Irkens don’t even have music.”

“Other species do,” Zim points out, “I happen to enjoy Screwnat music.”

“Wow, you really do have no taste.” While the Irkens argue and Gaz plays her game, Dib happily bobs his head to the music. He may be here to support Pepito and the others, but good music is still good music so he might as well enjoy himself.

He’s interrupted however, when someone shoves their way through the crowd and bumps his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whines but the person ignores them and keeps heading towards the stage, muttering angrily. Dib stares after them and notices they dropped something: a flat, black rock about the size of a hand. Dib picks it up, flips it over, and gasps. On the other side is a magical rune painted in red.

“Zim,” he says.

“-the simplicity is the best part. It allows the listener to not need much thought to listen to it,” Zim argues, ignoring him.

“You don’t need much thought in general,” Tak retorts.

“Zim!” Dib exclaims.

“What!” Zim barks, “I’m in a very heated discussion.”

“Look,” he orders, handing him the stone.

“What it is?” he asks.

“It’s a witch’s rune,” Dib replies, “somebody just dropped one as they were walking towards the stage.”

“What’s it do?”

“I…don’t know. But it can’t be good.” “Hmm,” Zim muses as he stares at the stone.

“Maddie texted to me that somebody was really angry that they couldn’t play today,” Gaz says.

“Could the event be in danger?” Dib asks.

“Ugh,” Zim groans, “we better investigate before Pepito goes on.” The others nod and they push their way through the crowd to the stage. There’s plastic barricades keeping the audience a couple feet away from the stage, and dropped in the space are three more of the runes but these ones are glowing, and no sign of the person.

Dib quickly scoops up all the stones and the team examines them.

“It’d be better if we knew what they did,” Tak points out.

“Give me a minute,” Dib demands and opens Zim’s PAK. He reaches inside and pulls out a big textbook titled ‘Supernatural Items and Facts’. Many pages are marked with tabs. He flips through it and stops on a page with many similar runes and explanations.

“Here,” he says, pointing at the same rune as on the stones. “The Explosive Rune.”

“Well, that’s self-explanatory,” Gaz remarks.

“They can be detonated from a short distance away when activated,” Dib reads, “that must be why they’re glowing.”

“We need to destroy these,” Zim points out.

The team quickly scurries out of the crowd to an empty part of the field. Then Dib drops all four stones on the grass and Zim blasts them to bits with his spider legs.

“Somebody’s trying to destroy the stage and ruin the music show,” Dib declares.

“It must be that weirdo Maddie was talking about,” Gaz adds, “he must be trying to get revenge for not being allowed to play.”

“We have to find him before he tries another stunt,” Zim says.

“But how?” Dib asks.

“If he wants revenge, then he must be nearby to watch the explosion when it goes off,” Tak muses, “which means he would’ve seen us take the stones. So…”

“Hey!”

They turn at the shout and see the Goth boy causing a ruckus earlier marching up to them.

“Bingo,” Tak nods.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the boy snaps.

“Us?” Dib retorts, “why are you trying to blow up the stage? You could hurt people, maybe even kill them!”

“If I can’t be allowed to sing, then nobody can!” he barks.

“You’re the one who didn’t sign up on time,” Gaz points out, “this is your own fault.” “I will not be tied to bureaucratic rules,” he argues, “and nobody will stop me from getting my revenge!”

“Listen, you worm,” Zim snarls, “this whole event has made Pepito finally stop whining about Squee being away. And I will not let you ruin this for me!”

“Zim,” Dib scolds.

“And Pepito too, I guess,” he adds indifferently.

“You think you can stop me?” the boy scoffs, “I am a witch! A powerful, magical being! You normal humans have nothing on me!”

“Jokes on you,” Zim retorts, “half of us aren’t even normal humans!”

“Whatever you are,” the witch snaps as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a wand. “I’ll reduce you all to dust!”

“Watch out!” Dib cries and the Battalion dive out of the way as the witch fires a bright green bolt from his wand. It leaves a small crater where they were standing.

Zim and Tak both snarl as they skid across the dirt. Zim draws his laser guns and Tak’s robot arm shifts into a cannon and they both take aim before firing.

The witch swings his wand, deflecting their beams, and fires another one at them. They jump out of the way and continue firing.

Meanwhile, Dib and Gaz watch from a few feet away.

“Dammit,” Dib snaps, “we don’t have our weapons.”

“I keep an extra bat in Zim’s PAK,” Gaz says, “but I don’t think I’ll have a chance to get it.”

“We have to take him down before Pepito goes on,” he points out, “we can’t miss his show.”

“Well, Zim and Tak should be able to handle this,” she retorts.

The witch sends the Irkens scattering with another blast before waving the wand around himself and chanting, “icken bicken licken might, give me the power of flight!”

Sparkles waft around him as he levitates off the ground, going higher until he’s nearly over the trees. Then he flies around like a bug and continues blasting at Zim and Tak below. They both cry out in frustration as they struggle to dodge.

“Dammit, they’re hopeless,” Gaz groans and shouts at them, “it’s two on one! Take him down already!”

“Silence!” they bark back and dodge another beam.

“He’s not giving them a chance to attack,” Dib observes, “there’s gotta be something we can do to help. Maybe cause a distraction to get his attention so they can hit him. We have limited options though. If we could find another weapon then-.”

Before he can finish, Gaz yanks his textbook out of his hand and whips it at the witch. It clonks him in the side of the head, making him cry out in pain and surprise as he falls to the ground.

“That works,” Dib shrugs.

Groaning in pain, the witch lifts himself out of the dirt. He looks around frantically for his wand before spotting just a foot away. But before he can grab it, Zim steps on it, breaking it in two. The witch glares at him and Tak as they stand over him.

“Now, who’s getting reduced to dust?” Zim growls as they ready their weapons. But a voice stops them before they can fire.

“Robbie?” A girl in a Goth Lolita dress emerges from the trees. “Robbie, there you are!”

“Bianca?” Dib questions.

“Who?” Zim grunts.

“She’s a witch in our class, remember? She tried to force Squee and me to tutor her for finals a couple years ago.”

“Eh.”

Bianca barely pays them any mind as she passes by and grabs the other witch- Robbie- by his ear, yanking him to his feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snaps, “causing so much trouble?”

“It’s not my fault,” he whines, “they wouldn’t let me sing.”

“I told you to sign up yesterday,” she retorts, “you didn’t listen. Let’s go, Auntie’s looking for you.”

“Wait! They broke my wand!”

“Good, you deserve it.”

“Wa-wa-wa-wait!” Zim barks as Bianca starts to walk away. “What’s going on here?”

“This is my stupid cousin, Robbie,” Bianca replies, “I’m sorry for any trouble he caused. My auntie will deal with him.”

“So we’re just supposed to let him go?” Dib questions, “he was gonna blow up the stage with explosive runes.”

“You tried to use explosive runes?” she barks, smacking Robbie upside his head. “This is why you can never visit!”

Dib sighs and rubs his forehead. “Alright, forget it. He’s clearly in good hands. We’ll leave him to you.”

“Thank you,” Bianca nods, “trust me, he’ll be properly punished.”

“I will not stand for this censorship!” Robbie cries as she drags him away.

“Shut up, you little moron,” she snaps, “your music sucks anyway.”

Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz watch them walk away before sighing.

“Well, that takes care of that, I guess,” Dib says.

“Good,” Gaz nods, “cause it’s almost two.”

“We better get back to the stage,” Zim orders.

They hurry through the park and arrive back to the stage. They join Devi and Tenna, who are standing near the back of the crowd, just before the current band finishes up. Then Hellz Rebels take the stage.

Pepito looks into the crowd as he sets down his amp and sees his friends waving excitedly. He grins and looks to his band.

“Ready?” he asks.

They all smile and nod.

“Then on your cue, Maddie,” he says, lifting his guitar.

She takes a deep breath and grips her mic.

“Are you guys ready to rock!?”

Later that night, in Cammie’s house, Squee and Johnny are lounging on the couch as the recording of the Hellz Rebels’ performance plays through Squee’s cellphone.

“You know, I hate to say it,” Nny says, “but they’re actually not bad.”

Squee smiles. “Yeah. They sound awesome. I wish I could’ve seen them live.”

“But you didn’t,” a voice points out nastily, wiping away Squee’s smile. His eyes narrow with annoyance at the stress toy sitting on the coffee table.

“You miss your friends, huh?” Squishy Pete says, “do you think they miss you? Like actually miss you? Do you think they want you back? Or is this break a relief for them? Probably the latter, right? I mean that’s why you left in the first place. For a break.”

Pete’s wide, fanged smile starts to widen as Squee rubs his tired eyes. But before the toy can say anything more, a hand suddenly swipes him from the table.

“Found him!” Eff announces, waving him in the air.

“He sure disappears quickly,” Sickness remarks as the other Night Terrors join him.

“Yeah, we can’t turn our backs for a second,” D-boy adds.

“He’s a tenacious little parasite,” Eff agrees as he tightly squeezes the toy.

“Let me play with him,” Reverend Meat begs.

“No, you always pop him too quickly,” Eff replies, “that’s no fun.”

“Yeah, we gotta make him suffer a bit,” D-boy adds.

“Guys!” Squee snaps, “can you take this somewhere else? I’m trying to listen to something.”

“Sorry, Little Boss,” the Night Terrors sing.

“Let’s play hacky sack with him outside,” Sickness suggests.

“Yeah!” the others cheer and race out the door.

Johnny watches them leave before looking at the Squee. He’s quietly rubbing his closed eyes.

“You okay?” Nny asks.

“Yeah,” Squee replies, opening his eyes. “Just tired.”

Nny nods understandably. “So, Granny’s going to L.A tomorrow to do some shopping. You wanna go?”

Squee looks at his phone as he listens to the Hellz Rebels sing. He’s not sure he wants to go anywhere right now. But it’s also been almost two weeks.

“Sure,” he replies, “I guess I should try going out in public again. It has been a while.”

Nny scoffs, “the public is overrated. But shopping can be fun.”

Squee smiles at him. “Yeah.”

Nny smiles back and they settle back down as they continue to listen to the music.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myocs #myart

5 notes · View notes

cdelphiki · 5 years

Text

“This is slander,” Damian shouted, right in the middle of the checkout line. Making even Dick cringe just a little from the shrillness of his voice.

It was past midnight, and despite the darkness of night, the stillness of the late hour pressing a hushed atmosphere in the Walmart they’d wandered into, Damian continued to be as loud as humanly possible.

Perhaps that’s what happens when nocturnal children are forced to take a night off. They don’t get how to actually act in public at night.

“Inside voice, kiddo,” Dick hummed, not looking up from the word puzzle he was doing on his phone. Anything to keep himself entertained. “Hey, what’s an eight letter word for thief? Third letter is an ‘R’”

“What?” Damian said, then scowled, demanding, “Why are you not outraged by this? They are soiling your good name and spreading false rumors.”

“Mmm, no. That’s too many letters,” Dick said, smirking at how Damian’s scowl turned into a glower at the comment. “What is slander?”

Dick didn’t have the chance to glance at the celebrity gossip rags sitting on the shelf next to him before one was shoved right in his face, much too close for him to read.

All he could see was an image of himself walking, one arm around Damian as the kid was mid-sentence, clearly passionate about whatever he was saying. Dick knew Damian had been talking about the movie they’d just watched. A war dramatization. Damian had been explaining every single detail that was wrong. Right down to the buttons on the coats, which ‘would have been copper, not plastic, Grayson. It’s basic knowledge.’

Without context, though, and without knowing Damian, the picture just made it seem like he was looking up at Dick in admiration. Actually, it was an awesome picture and Dick wondered how difficult it would be to get his hands on a clean copy.

Surely he’d be able to buy the picture off the Inquisitor, right? Or hack into their servers and just take a copy? How illegal was that, anyway? It’s not like he would sell it. Just frame it and put it in his living room.

“Grayson,” Damian snarled, snapping Dick back to reality. That was when Dick finally read the headline. ‘Is Damian really Bruce’s grandson? Insider spills on Grayson’s secret teenage scandal.’

“Oh my God,” Dick said, grinning wide as he started laughing, loud and hard. “I was 13,” he eventually said, wiping the tears fro his eyes. His outburst drew more attention to them than Damian’s, and Dick wasn’t even sorry.

“This is not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Dick said, tossing the magazine on the belt with the various art supplies and junk food they’d come to get in the first place. Damian just had to have some titanium white paint for the portrait he was working on, and with it being nearly 1, only Walmart was open.

Which was cool with Dick. Walmart had Cheetos. The Manor did not.

“Don’t support them,” Damian exclaimed, snatching the magazine up to put back.

Dick just smiled and said, “excuse me,” to the woman behind them in line so he could grab the rest of the magazines from the rack.

Letting out a horrified sound, Damian shouted, “Grayson!”

“Damian, kiddo, no one believes these rags. Don’t worry.”

“But they’re suggesting-”

“And no one will believe it,” he said, setting a hand on Damian’s head and turning him forward, pushing him in that direction, so the person behind them could start loading her groceries onto the belt, “I mean, come on, kid, you’re the spitting image of your dad and since I’m quite famously adopted, it makes no sense that you could be mine instead of Bruce’s, okay? You just gotta learn to ignore these things.”

“Then why are you purchasing six copies?”

“Want to show everyone,” he said absently, putting the divider down behind his giant bag of Cheetos and four bags of gummy worms. Alfred was going to kill him if he found out. “And it’s a good photo. You look happy.”

“I was happy,” Damian said petulantly, crossing his arms. Acting as if this were somehow a point for him and not Dick.

Dick just grinned and pulled Damian in, planting a quick kiss in his hair before he was forced to let go, due to Damian’s two finger jab straight into his kidney.

“Hi,” Dick said to the cashier when she greeted them, trying his best to stand up straight and not whine at the pain Damian had just inflicted, but also not keep laughing at how hilarious it all was. Because Damian was standing by the bags, arms crossed, an adorable little pout on his face.

“Find everything you need,” the girl asked, smiling at their antics, Dick assumed.

“Sure did!”

“Tt.”

“Let’s go, kiddo,” he said, after he paid. Dick took the bags and tried to hand Damian his, the one with the random paint brushes and tubes of paint they didn’t need, but the little punk spun on his heels and stalked off, toward the store exit. “Let’s go get some milkshakes.”

Damian ignored him, of course, but did eventually ask, “Where would we get milkshakes at this hour?” just as they reached the car and Dick was tossing their bags into the back seat.

“Drive thru, duh. Sonic is still open, pretty sure.”

“Tt.” Damian slipped into the passenger seat and waited for Dick to get in, then said, “I want a McFlurry. Reece’s cup. We have to go to the McDonald’s on Montgomery for that.”

Dick smiled to himself, letting the car fall into silence, all the way to McDonald’s. He ordered two Reece’s McFlurries at the drive thru and parked so he could eat his without being pulled over for ‘distracted driving.’ Because apparently the police considered using both hands to eat ice cream dangerous and stupid. That had not been a fun ticket to explain to Bruce when he was 16.

He had hoped the ice cream would cheer Damian up, but no matter how much of it they ate, Damian just seemed to get more and more agitated as he clearly stewed in his anger about the gossip magazine.

“You’ve got to just laugh at this kind of stuff, D,” Dick eventually said, once they were about half way through their ice cream, “It comes with the territory.”

Damian frowned, staring down at the cup in his hands. “It does not bother you at all?”

“This one? Nah. They’ve been calling me… promiscuous since I was 15. Just the result of being good looking and Bruce’s kid. I’m over it.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Damian pouted, setting his ice cream down in the cup holder between them so he could cross his arms.

“No, it doesn’t,” Dick said softly, turning to face Damian, “but this time they’re accusing me of being the dad of a wonderful kid. I can’t find it in me to be insulted.”

And that made Damian’s lip twitch as he looked away. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Dick finished off the last of his ice cream and tossed the empty cup into his trash bag on the backseat, then dug out a pack of his gummy words to eat. “Besides, I looked pretty hot in that picture, don’t you think?”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Yeah, the lighting was great. And my hair was that perfect level of messy, where it looks like I tried to make it look that good without being-”

“Imbecile. You look like a zombie that hadn’t slept in four days or showered in ten.”

“You sure you aren’t thinking about how you looked?”

“Tt.” Damian picked his ice cream back up and took another bite, then abruptly said, “Arrogate.”

“What?”

“Eight letter word for thief. Arrogate.”

“Oh,” Dick exclaimed, fishing his phone out of his back pocket to check. When the word was accepted, he reached over and ruffled Damian’s hair. “You’re the best.”

“I know. You’d be lucky to have a son like me.”

Grinning, Dick dragged Damian over for a quick hug, trying his best to avoid injury doing so. “Son or not, I am pretty lucky to have you, aren’t I?”

All Damian did was smile. The entire way back to the manor.

#Damian wayne #Dick Grayson #Dick and Damian #dickanddamiweek2019 #paparazzi #I don't know how to classify this #its fluffy #and maybe a little angsty?#sort of emotional hurt/comfort #like if you squint?#fanfiction #batfamily #batfam #batbros #c writes #batman #robin #nightwing

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nachohypno · 4 years

Text

William and the demon Ch.2 - The demon reveals himself

That night, however, I heard someone entering my room by the window, I moved in my bed, trying to appear asleep.

"I know you're awake, you snore when you sleep" Wait... what? I opened my eyes and there was Kevin!

"What the hell? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"Wow slow down, man! I just walked in through the front door, your mom opened"

I looked at my clock next to my bed. "It's 3 AM! She's probably asleep right now!" Kevin laughed.

"Well, you got me there. Hehe. I don’t know why I thought that would be believable” He sat on my desk chair across the room. He was really chilled about the fact he just broke into my room, which made me a lot more uncomfortable with this situation as I was about to scream.

However, he started talking again. “Let me explain since the beginning, because this secret thing is driving me nuts. Thing is, I'm not actually human. I’m a demon, bro”

My eyes widened as he continued to talk like it was something normal "And before you start to scream or call for help, I'll tell you that I already made your family think that's not true and that we are best friends" Damn, I didn't stand a chance against him either, so I just sat in my bed and looked at him. Was he on drugs? He could be dangerous, and I was defenseless, in my underwear. I better play along

"Cool, glad you decided to not scream. Look at the good side, you've got a new demon best friend! Isn't that great?"

"Man, it's scary as fuck. And what do you mean by ‘best friend’? I barely know you!"

"It... has its advantages. I think I’ve already figured you out Will"

"What do you mean with-" But he shushed me and continued.

"Well, us, demons, have the power to bend reality to our will, with limits of course but still we can have fun. Remember I told you I made your family think we're best friends? That was a little 'demonstration' " He laughed at his own pun.

"But, why me? What if I don't want to befriend you?" Then, realization hit me. “What did you do to Derek?!”

He seemed to ignore my question "Man, others would die for the chance to befriend a demon (and they actually do), but what's fair is fair. Some high ranks demons wanted to have some fun with your class, but it appears that they couldn't mess with you to cause a... big disaster, for calling it some way"

"What do you mean-" But he shushed me again. It was getting annoying, and I wanted to punch his face. “No, you’re not going to shut me up. I want answers, right now!”

He sighed “Why humans have to be so nosy?”

“Excuse me? You’re messing 'supposedly' around with my friend; I have the right to know!”

“Alright. Let me explain what happened with Derek. He just… asked me a favor. He wanted to be as cool as I was, and I just gave him the perfect make over.”

“But what about his personality? Did you… bent reality to change him?”

“DING DING DING! WE’VE GOT A WINNER LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Will you let me explain now?” I sighed and nodded.

"Good. So, they sent me to investigate you, and that's boring man, not even I want to do it, so let's make my stay here more fun for both of us, alright?" He then extended his hand for a shake, I looked at him a bit confused

"You promise you're not going to harm me, or my friends, in any way?"

He lifted his other hand "Demon Scout promise"

I still wasn't sure but I didn't think I have much more choice. I reached for his hand and gave it a shake.

"Great! we'll start tomorrow, good night!" and then he jumped from the window. I quickly ran to it, just to see if he was fine, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Just a dream, maybe some hallucination. Yeah, I’m going crazy." I mumbled and went back to bed.

Next morning, my family seemed pretty normal. I asked mom if she heard something weird last night, but she didn’t. Maybe it was just my paranoia giving me a bad dream? Yeah, that must be it.

At school, I went to my locker to grab my books, but then Kevin appeared. "'Sup, bro? Ready to make some mischief?"

I looked at him, surprised "Wait, so it wasn't a dream?"

He sighed "You really are a slow one, aren't you? Look, I'm a real demon. Let me show you" and then he opened my locker and screams started to come out from it, all the students in the hallway looked at us until he closed it, then they continued to walk like nothing happened.

"Look, Kevin, I don't want a demon around, man. It's just not cool. It's scary as fuck!" I whispered, still looking to the others.

He bursted out laughing "You talk like you do have a choice. Great joke, we have a deal. Come, I'll change your mind, if you still don't want me around then I’ll do my work without bothering you, alright?"

I was really confused, and scared about what would he do, but I nodded and he grabbed my hand. We walked to the boy’s locker room, as the whole baseball team was changing.

"C'mon, pick one, buddy" Said Kevin. It seemed like no one could see us, because the guys passed besides me like I wasn’t actually there, like there was nobody besides them in the locker room.

“Why would I pick one?” I asked Kevin, as another baseball stud passed at my side.

“Oh. My. Satan. You’re so slow man, I’ll do it for you” He stared at me, like yesterday in class, then mumbled a “done”.

The demon guy disappeared in a second. I was now confused, worried, and probably going crazy. But just as quickly as he vanished, Kevin returned, and this time he was with someone.

Tyler, one of the baseball guys, light brown short hair and a handsome, masculine face with brown eyes. He was on my class and sometimes we got paired together to do some projects, but nothing too important.

Kevin patted his back “C’mon Ty, say what you wanted to tell him” The jock was blushing, then he grabbed my hands.

“Hey Will, mind if you come over to my house after school? I’ve got something important to ask you” said Tyler with an emotionless face, it was… totally unexpected, and I was speechless.

“Aww, he’s gonna ask you to date him, isn’t that beautiful?” said the demon.

I glared at him, but he just laughed. “Oh Satan, you should have seen your face. You can go Ty, thanks for your services”

Tyler just mumbled a “Yes sir” before going away. What the fuck?

“Aaand, I’m sure you believe me now. I’m a demon, and also I’m stuck with you. I can get you a lot more from where that came from, understood?”

I nodded slowly “But why did you do that? I mean, I’m not gay or anything like that”

He seemed actually surprised. “Wait, are you kidding me? OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I’M SO SORRY” He bursted out laughing, I was embarrassed. Did I seem like a gay guy? Not that it would be bad or anything but… what if Lily thought I was gay, too?

The jocks didn’t pay attention to us. For them, we were not there, I guessed. I was thankful for that; it would be more embarrassing than it was now if the jocks could see us.

When Kevin stopped laughing, taking a tear off his face. “So-Sorry! I haven’t laughed that much in years.” That gave me more questions. How old was he? Was he an immortal? How did he… I don’t know, started existing??

“See what I mean? If I could use my powers on you, I would know EVERYTHING about you now. And also, I tend to work with gay dudes. Just a few cities away was one of my last works… Have you been in Winston High?” I shook my head in denial.

He continued “Oh, you don’t go out that often? It’s actually really close. Well there was this guy, he was your age I think, being hunted down by the football team. I don’t want to spill all the junk, but I gave him some neat powers to take revenge. I should check out how he’s going y’know?”

“Man, Kevin. Sorry but I don’t see how that affects me. And can we leave please? I don’t feel comfortable in the locker room”

“Geez, alright. Let’s get going. At least did you like my present?”

“I told you, I’m not gay”

“Damn, why do you, humans, care so much about your labels and shit? In hell, there’s no such thing as straight, gay or bi or whatever” He sounded angry, so I took a step away from him as he kept mumbling about everyone being sensitive and fragile these days.

“Doing anything after school?” I asked him when he calmed down. Just to make a bit of conversation. Again, he just laughed at me.

“Yeah, we’re both going to steal banks, does that appeal to you?” I glared at him. I shouldn’t, because he was way stronger than me, and had powers.

But I wasn’t a coward cat, and I wouldn’t be intimidated because of some demon punk or whatever. “I actually thought about doing you a makeover. Y’know, like I did with Derek, but I can’t make you obey me, so you have your choice”

I stared at him, a bit mad because of how he bragged he used his powers in one of my best friends. But then thought about it, Derek did look a lot better after he hung out with Kevin. Maybe it would help me too? Though Derek did seem to act differently than like he was before. I had to be careful with the demon.

I nodded “Sure, do your best. What do you have in mind?” His face lightened up.

“Wait, seriously? I haven’t thought about… wait, yeah. That could work” Kevin started talking to himself, while checking me out. He made me lift my arms, as he moved around me. “…Maybe a punk style? Yeah, let’s try that out”

“What? What do you mean?” I asked, but he snapped his fingers and he disappeared. I was alone of the boys’ locker room, a bit confused. Then he appeared back again.

“Are you serious? I get that my powers don’t work on you, but being unable to teleport you is stupid! Ugh, we’ll go on my bike”

We left school really early and went to my house. Dad was home, but Kevin made him think it was normal for me to be home this early.

We went to my room, where he took off his school bag and dropped it on my bed. “Take a sit, man” He pointed to my desk chair. I did as told as he started searching through his bag. “Since I can’t use my powers on you, we’ll have to do this in the normal way. This may take a bit longer than expected”

He grabbed a little dye package and opened it on a bowl. I wondered if his school bag was magical, but maybe he just manipulated reality to make those objects appear there. He putted on some gloves and grabbed a bit of the dye with his fingers, then started with the whole thing. I was a bit scared about this.

‘What will my parents say? And why dye my hair?’ Also he mentioned he couldn’t make me obey him like the others, so Derek’s sudden transformation wasn’t consented?

Seems like I got lost on my train of anxiety and thoughts, because when I realized it, he held a mirror in front of my face. Gone was my blond hair, replaced by an awful green. I was speechless.

“So, let’s now talk about outfits, what do you think about this one?” He held up a jean jacket with some worn out pants.

“Uh… no, thanks. I like my style. Sorry, I don’t think I like where this is going”

“Wait, what?” He looked at me, surprised. Like he wasn’t expecting me to refuse. “Shit. It didn’t work, either.”

“What didn’t work?” I asked, with curiosity.

“Nothing, nothing important at all. The good thing is, the dye did work. Do you like your new green hair? It may look cooler when the dye has a bit more time to work. But yeah, if you didn’t like where the makeover was going, we can try another thing. We had a deal, after all.”

I was about to ask him to dye my hair blond again, but he seemed a bit frustrated when I refused to keep going with this makeover thingie so I decided to leave it as it is for now. I started wondering if he really liked fashion or something.

“Can we go back to school? Next class is about to start.”

“You really want to go back to class with your hair suddenly shorter and dyed?” He had a point, I guess I had to skip class for today. The idea annoyed me a bit, but there was nothing I could do.

“You’re right, sorry”

“Clever boy. Look, I have to go. I’ve got a… Date, to call it some way. Let’s talk tomorrow” He said as he grabbed his bag again and walked over to the window. “By the way, green looks good on you” He winked and jumped out of the window. I’ll tell him to use the door next time, it’s making me nervous.

Tony’s POV

William was nowhere to be seen during the whole day. I got worried, I haven’t seen Kevin either, and Derek was acting like a dick. Everything was really strange.

I’m a laid back dude, nothing really bothers me just because I don’t really care. But since Kevin arrived at the school, everyone was acting weird. First, Harry doing what Kevin told him to do instead of claiming his seat back.

I knew my friend; he was so hot headed that he wouldn’t leave without a fight. Next was Derek arriving late and with a new style, and also he acted like a dick now. Now, William was missing. And I was getting more worried with each minute.

I tried messaging Will as soon as I noticed him going missing, and he answered, but hours later. He told me he left school early to check out some stuff. I didn’t have a reason to assume he was lying, so I decided to believe him.

I arrived at my place after school. It had been a strange day and I just wanted to take a nap.

I opened my bedroom’s door and took a step back, Kevin was sitting on my bed.

“Finally! You took so long to come here I was about to go look for you”

“Wait, what are you doing here and how did you enter?” I grabbed a pepper spray I had on my pocket and held it ready in my hand. This seriously creeped me out.

“Aw. Chill out, Tony. I just wanted to test something out. You know, I’ve tried my powers with Derek and they worked amazingly. I used them on that baseball guy and they seemed to work on him too, perfectly.”

I took a step back, the door knob in one hand and the pepper spray in the other. However, I noticed the pepper spray was no longer in my hand, but in his. “But I’ve been trying ALL DAY, to make them work with William. Guess what? They didn’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you high or something?” Shit, I had a drugged or crazy classmate in my room. What else could go wrong?

“High? Oh, no. If I were high, at least I would enjoy it. Speaking of it, what I came for.” He snapped his fingers. All my worries vanished. Wait, was I worried? I was just hanging out with my great friend Kevin! I invited him over after school and we’re having so much fun together, yay!

“There, so much better now, isn’t it?” I nodded, I felt so light. No thoughts, only listening to what Kevin had to say. My smile grew bigger just by thinking of it. He petted my head. “Good boy. Now, I already know everything about your personality, I’ve examined you in class before, so I’ll skip directly to the changes, alright?” I nodded once again. Changes were good!

“Good” He went to my closet and threw a few of my clothes making a pile on the floor. He grabbed a blue polo shirt and a normal pair of pants, but he snapped his fingers and the pants turned khaki. “Undress and put on these” He threw the right clothes at my bed and I did as he said. He waited patiently as I changed my clothes.

I finished and stood there, waiting for him to check me out. He walked up to me and tucked my shirt in. “Shirt tucked in at all times, like a good boy would use it, understood?” I nodded, I was a good boy! “And by the way, a good boy always respects his superiors, don’t they?”

I didn’t know what he meant by that. I tried to think about it but couldn’t make any sense of it. Was he my superior? Oh, of course he was! “Yes, Sir!” I said, I’m such a good boy!

Kevin grabbed a comb and used it on my hair. My hair was usually a mess, but I didn’t really care about it. Was it so bad that he had to comb it himself? I should be more careful with my appearance!

After he finished, my good friend Kevin mumbled a “Perfect” and looked around the room.

He pointed to the pile of clothing he just threw. “What is that boy? Shouldn’t you leave your room as tidy as possible?” Oh god, I was so ashamed. I nodded and went to clean the mess.

I heard him muttering “I love my powers” but didn’t think about it a lot. I had work to do!

---

Chapter 3 is already available in my Patreon! And by pledging you also get access to other stories before they go public!

#William and the demon #mind control #brainwash #brainwashing #tf #demon

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

The Land Of The Midnight Sun - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - Not particularly festive, but sometimes it’s cathartic to write a sad, but ultimately happy “we’re going to be okay” moment, and so I did. Shorter than I would normally like, but it’s the holiday season so you have to be nice. Here’s my little gift to you xx

Sharon had more regrets than she had adult teeth. The balls of her feet ached, throbbing with blisters from her ceaseless walking. Nettles had been stinging her exposed ankles for the past few miles, and the pain had graduated from irritating to numbing to agonising over time. She smelt bad, looked worse, and was beginning to wonder if she had turned invisible.

Cars passed without so much as a glance towards her outstretched hand. If anything, they probably saw her haggard appearance and sped up, trying to get away from her as quickly as they could. It wasn’t like she could do anything to them, anyway. She walked empty-handed, her stomach growling, a packet of smokes and a lighter in her pocket as her only belongings. No wonder they assumed she was some kind of runaway junkie murderer, hoping to be picked up and driven off into a nightmare.

They weren’t far from the truth, but Sharon had no intentions of killing anyone.

It was a weird time of night, and Sharon didn’t feel sure that she was still alive. As she walked, endlessly walking on a road to nowhere, she studied her hands with a scholarly focus. They were veiny, pale, grimy. Dirt beneath her fingernails. Scratched up. The sky was mauve and the world looked like a bleak 70s horror movie, unusually coloured, unusually silent. Never serene, just unsettling.

Against the unchanging background of the countryside, the gas station lights seemed too jarring, too bright. Sharon headed towards them, light-headed and thoughtless. Gas stations meant food, water and smokes. Given her lack of money, they could also mean police. In that case, gas stations meant a car, somewhere to spend the night, and civilisation again. It was a win-win.

Sharon had been walking for so long. It might have been 7pm or 2am. She had no idea what day it was, or the month. She wasn’t even entirely sure of her own name.

There was an old hunk of junk car hastily parked up beside a pump as Sharon approached. It was dented, a foul peachy-vomit colour, with huge silver scrapes along the rear doors. The thing looked like it had been pulled from the 60s and driven straight into a wall. But it was a car. The driver was busily filling it up.

The less witnesses, the better, Sharon knew. To her surprise, the door above the small shop didn’t have a telltale bell on it, and given that her location was in the middle of nowhere, the cashier likely didn’t expect customers. Good, because they wouldn’t be getting any. Sharon was a thief.

She didn’t need much; a few granola bars and an extra packet of smokes slipped into her pocket and then she was done. Funny how when it came to the middle of nowhere, the laws seemed to slip away and melt. Cigarettes should’ve been behind the counter, not lined up in shiny silver rows for Sharon to take as she pleased. She would call herself lucky if it wasn’t such an exaggeration. Being a runaway was fun.

As she stepped outside, the driver of the shitty old car had stopped pumping gas. She was stood on the other side of her car, kicking the side of it as hard as she could and screaming obscenities.

“A golf club would do more damage. Or a baseball bat.” Sharon told her, slowly coming closer.

The driver stopped kicking and looked up, surprised that she’d been caught. Her eyes were warm green, like grass in midsummer. It was a refreshing change from the maudlin sepia tones of the fields Sharon had been trudging alongside.

“I don’t have either of those.” She responded. Her eyelashes were long, and she smiled prettily as she spoke. Nobody had smiled at Sharon for a long time.

“Me neither.”

Sharon wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed as though a flicker of trust appeared in the driver’s eyes. She was clean and seemed outwardly normal, but Sharon knew she was damaged too. Not a soul who was so far into the land of the midnight sun wasn’t a dented can, damaged goods, a runaway or a no-hoper or a useless junkie. This woman had seen battles, like Sharon. She appeared to think the same thing.

“I put the wrong gas into this stupid thing.” She kicked the car again for good measure. “I can’t call anyone for help because I stole it from my step-dad, and it’s a missing vehicle. But now it won’t drive.”

Sharon nodded. “No license plate. You’re smart. Not that there’s anyone around here except us.”

“You’re right.” The driver agreed. “Help me siphon this out and I’ll refuel and give you a ride. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Weirder things had happened. Sharon, on her knees, in a gas station, accompanied by a pretty blonde; in times not too far in the past, yet a million miles away, she had earned herself a modest few dollars in such situations. Only this wouldn’t earn Sharon a penny - just oily, grimier hands and a sense of surreal camaraderie with this stranger. The world around them just stood still, as Sharon and a stranger somehow emptied the tank together as though they had been a team for their entire lives.

In a way, they had. Sharon saw the hard glint in the driver’s eyes, the firm line of her jaw, her outward strength and resolution. The small patch on her jacket, clearly ripped and frayed from someone’s fit of anger, showing half of what she was sure had once been two interlocking Venus symbols. Whoever she was, she was running away for the same reasons as Sharon. To free herself.

They were strangers, and had no reason to trust one another. For all Sharon knew, once they were done, the driver would fuel her shitty car correctly and speed off into the horizon, disappear at the point of no return and fall off the edge of the earth, leaving Sharon in her dust. She would fade away into nothing, in the middle of nowhere, leaving Sharon to question her sanity as well as herself.

But she didn’t.

With a wry smile, the blonde finished refuelling her car and offered Sharon a filthy rag to help clean her hands. Then, after a moment, she opened the passenger door.

“Get in. I don’t think I’m gonna pay for this one.”

The luxury of sitting was a pleasure Sharon had almost forgotten. Her feet still throbbed, her shoes sticky with what she was sure was her own blood, but she could finally rest, nestled in amongst magazines and empty cups and discarded wrappers. Around them, the mauve of the sky had faded into a darker, duller purplish-grey, devoid of stars, as bleak and lifeless as the dead cornfields that rolled past the windows on an endless loop. Their soundtrack was radio static, occasionally interspersed with a soothing guitar twang.

“Who are you?”

Sharon tried to remember who she was. It was a loaded question, really. Who was she? An innocent young girl - no, not for a long time. A dented can, yes. Damaged goods. A jaded, scarred, exhausted girl, separate from the world, freakish and unwanted and strange. She was a lesbian, a punk, someone’s lost sister, someone’s estranged daughter. She was so many things, and she had no idea who she was anymore. She was a zombie, who had walked miles into the land of the midnight sun and now found herself gazing up at the harvest moon.

“My name is Sharon.”

The driver’s voice was unique, and Sharon liked it. “I’m Alaska. Where are you going?”

The land where the sun doesn’t set. The land where phones won’t take calls. The land of the midnight sun. The land of nothing.

“Somewhere that no one can ever reach me again.”

Alaska smiled a second time, pretty still in the diminishing light. “Me too. We can find it together.”

Her face was so beautiful, smooth white skin and long dark eyelashes and an elegant curvature to every single one of her bones. It was marred only by a bruise on her cheek, which Sharon gazed at unabashedly. Even her bruises were perfect, vividly purple, the only bit of colour in Sharon’s world.

“Who did that to you?” She asked, too exhausted to bother with propriety and tact. “Walked into a door? A lamppost?”

She chuckled without mirth, but she seemed unoffended. “Stepdad. Caught me with a girl in my room, starting beating the living shit out of us both. You know what they say.” She paused, her voice taking on a tone of bittersweet sarcasm. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

Sharon didn’t offer sympathy. She knew her flowery words would bounce off of Alaska’s armour and thickened skin at this point. There was no sense in offering meaningless comfort to this harrowed stranger. Alaska had been hurt. Sharon knew exactly what she meant.

“Yeah.” Sharon pushed her sleeve up, her fingers tracing the cross-shaped red scar that stretched from her wrist to the middle of her forearm. “I understand. Made the mistake of coming out in a religious town that already thought I had a demon inside me. Got sick of the exorcisms and white-hot crucifixes, so I left a note and got out of there. I’m hoping they assume I’ve committed suicide and don’t come looking for my body. I left without a trace.”

“Amen to that, sister.” Alaska bit her lip. The words hung heavy in the dead night air. “Or not.”

Things seemed dark, morose, grim. Yet - and Sharon was sure Alaska could feel it too - there was a pull, a light switch, a sudden shift in the universe, a change in the wind. Everything had been so bad. But things were going to improve. Running away had felt like cowardice, and giving up, and losing the fight. Running away had been an end, and ever since then the world had felt weird, off-kilter, faded. But this was a beginning, and starting with Alaska’s mesmerising green eyes, the colour was going to return.

Life wouldn’t be bleak forever.

“We can stop and camp tonight, if you want.” Alaska suggested. “I have an old tent bundled up in the trunk, and I’m tired of creepy lay-bys at the side of the road. Might be nice to pitch up and light a fire for the night.”

Sharon smiled. It felt so good to smile, after everything. Despite the dark, Alaska carried an infectious lightness within her that seemed to be spreading. “Well, it’s not like we’ll struggle to find somewhere flat enough to sleep. There’s nothing out here.”

“Right.” Alaska giggled. “We got an abundance of nothing out here. How spoiled are we?”

“Practically royal,” Sharon laughed, her voice rasping slightly as she slipped into quiet, jokey song. “I’ve got plenty of nothing, and nothing is plenty for me…”

It was almost completely black when Alaska came to a stop and started to pull out the tent, deciding they had travelled far enough. It could’ve been twenty miles or two hundred miles later, Sharon wasn’t quite sure. All she knew was that Alaska was enchanting and even though every single fibre of her aching body was screaming for sleep, she would happily defy her own needs if it meant she could look at Alaska for a little longer.

With only the help of Alaska’s headlights, they managed to assemble a somewhat pitiful tent. Nonetheless, it was a shelter, and Alaska’s assortment of random jackets, blankets and shirts made a pretty decent mattress in the grand scheme of things.

“Wait here,” Alaska grinned, her mood heightened by their small success. “You’re gonna love this.”

She stepped away from their camp and reached into her trunk, pulling out two bags and then slamming it shut. As she came closer, Sharon grew confused.

“Wood?”

“For the fire.” She shook her head. “That’s not the exciting part. This is the exciting part.”

She held up the smaller bag, turning slightly so that the headlights of her car could illuminate the packaging inside. Through the thin plastic, Sharon could make out a bottle of red wine and a bag of marshmallows.

“We get to wine and dine?” Sharon asked, only half kidding. “God… I wish I’d found you sooner.”

She was so beautiful. Her smile alone could battle the warmth of a thousand roadside fires.

“You have a lighter, right?” She asked, then laughed as Sharon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Go light the fire, I’m gonna open these up. This is our late-night dinner, like it or not.”

As she flicked her lighter again and again on the wood, soothed by the hypnotic dance of the flames, Sharon sighed dramatically. “Not. Marshmallows are gross, they’re all sugar. It’s like eating a diabetic cloud.”

Alaska laughed appreciatively. “I can’t deny that…” She let the words linger, her accented drawl becoming more and more charming. “But hey. This is just… one of those serendipitous moments in life where two strangers who share a common denominator can sit together and roast marshmallows over an open flame and talk about their lives. I think there’s beauty in that, somewhere.”

It was so difficult not to tell Alaska that she was the reason Sharon could see beauty again. She held her tongue and reached for a marshmallow, skewering it on a stick and settling herself down. The two of them nestled in the entrance of the tent, their knees hugged to their chests, reaching towards the fire to warm them and melt their marshmallows at the same time. With the headlights off, there was nothing but the firelight to wash over them.

“I wanna know happier things. Things we can both relate to. Something that can connect two girls who love girls who are lost in the land of the midnight sun with no intention of ever going back.” Alaska’s voice was dreamy, slow. Sharon was sure she wasn’t real. She was too perfect to be real, more like a hallucination than a person, and yet she was living and breathing and soft to the touch.

They were holding hands, toasting marshmallows with the other.

“How about… girls?” Sharon suggested, with a quiet laugh. “You have a type?”

Their voices were low, like it was a secret. Alaska spoke louder, breaking the secrecy of it all. They didn’t need to be secretive anymore. They were safe.

“Any girl who looks at me twice, really,” She giggled. “I’m kidding. I don’t think I have a type, I wouldn’t know. Just… pretty girls, I guess.”

Sharon pretended to pout as she brought the roasted marshmallow to her lips, but it was hard. “Oh, shame. I haven’t stopped looking at you, so it only counts as looking once, right?”

“Look away,” Alaska instructed her, the smile evident in the tone of her voice. “Then look back.”

“And then what?” Sharon teased, studying Alaska in the firelight. It softened her features, made her look gentler and sweeter and less damaged. Her sweet soul could shine right through her pain, and Sharon knew it. They were healing. “You’ll kiss me?”

There was no answer.

Sharon could smell burning marshmallows and fresh night air. She could hear the flame crackling, and feel the warmth of the fire. She could see stars, and skin, and constellations of freckles. She could taste Alaska’s lips on hers, breathing new life into her body, awakening sparks from embers she thought had long died out. She was reborn, renewed, rejuvenated. Alaska tasted sugary sweet, like marshmallows, her lips soft and welcoming and full of promise.

They were okay.

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #shalaska #tw homophobia #the land of the midnight sun #submission

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rayesketchit42 · 4 years

Text

Self indulgence here, oc fanfiction.

Set in the Ducktales ‘17 universe. Ethan Cloud

Adult content story will include or mentionings of: drinking, swearing, sex violence, some slurs.

A/n I never know how to show song lyrics in writing XD forgive me. Soft start just set where ethan is so far.

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

A leaf in the wind ch. 1

A young hooded crow beat and bruised fell to the ground. Looking down at the water in the gutter beside him he spat out some blood. He looked over to the ones who who did this to him

"What, you gonna do just lie there Ethan?"

Ethan, the hooded crow grinned and got back up "Nah, I'm gonna get up and beat yo punk bitch ass next!" Ethan said as he wiped his beak clean. Popping his knuckles as he looked the other bird over. Angry and ready to let that all out and this guy was just the right punching bag.

"New places to go

I've got to leave

It's time for a show

Here I am, rock you like a hurricane

Here I am, rock you like a hurricane"

Ethan belted out, along to the song playing as he made his way into his new apartment. Putting his load of boxes down and standing in the middle of the living room taking in the fact this was his new home now. Ethan was 22 now and finally making the big step into his adulthood. Moving out from his uncles’ home, after delaying that at least one year more but he was ready now. The place wasn’t much but it had what he needed at least. A single bed room with a connected half bathroom. A small kitchen that was big enough to put a table into. And the rest was the living room area. It was a bit bitter sweet, to think he wouldn’t be waking up to the sounds of his uncle’s playfully bantering well making breakfast. Wouldn’t be the one to wake up his cousin, Damien because he was out cold from another all nighter. His time of self reflection ended when he felt a box hit him in the back, he looked back to see Damien behind him.

“Ethan!” He called out “You can’t just space out like that we're trying to get the last of your stuff inside.” the young magpie said, seeming a bit annoyed.

Ethan just turned around and took the box from him as he smiled. “Sorry got side tracked there.” Walking over to the wall of boxes he placed the new on on the top of the stack. Damien joined him and looked over the boxes labels.

“Man you have a lot of junk. CDs, movies, one epsiode recorded vhs tapes, music sheets, headphones.” He started reading out loud then stopped “Why do you have a whole box for just headphones?”

Ethan just shrugged. “I just packed up anything that was mine or Uncle Clover and Jason said I could have. Like the VHS tapes, guess they were from when Clover was younger but they are all random episodes of Mr.Rogers, or Bob Ross”

Damian was quite a moment as he looked over the boxes more. "Jeez it’s really starting to set in that your not gonna be at home anymore.” Damian said then coughed trying to cover up he said anything at all. “Just..kind of weird to think about. I mean cause you can barely take care of yourself I don't know how your going to make it past a week”

“I’m not that bad, I finally know how to make my ramen noodles the best way.” Ethan retorted like that somehow made sense to prove how much of an adult he was now.

“You still have trouble reading analog, I mean clocks with hands.”

“They are hard! Why can’t all clocks be digital now?”

“If you can’t read them why do you own one" Damian pointed out as he pulled a wall clock out from the box he had been carrying earlier.

Ethan just stared at it a moment trying to think about it, then gently rubbed at his chin as he scrunched up his brow in thought “uh so that's what they mean by time catches up to you.”

Damian just stared at Ethan in silence, he had no idea how to respond to that.

“Hey, are two already fighting? Ethan you may be moving out but I will still ground you.” Jason, a hooded crow like Ethan called out from the doorway holding a stack of boxes in hand. He was followed by a king fisher shortly after. Who was only carrying one box himself.

“Not really a fight dad, more concerned Ethan’s going to die within a week.” Damain said putting the clock away.

“Well that I can understand then. I think it’s more likely to be three days though.”

“Jason. That's not nice.” The king fisher stated as he walked over to Ethan and Damian. “Ethan worked really hard to earn enough money to finally move out, have some faith in our boy. Though this place isn't the best maybe we should wait another year for a better place to open."

"Don't even Clover you already got an extra year. It's time to kick him from the nest and fall on his own." Jason said as he set the boxes he had down.

"Don't you mean fly and leave?" Damien asked.

"Nope adulthood seems all awesome but it is the nosebleed section of your favorite bands concert but you're sitting next to a giant fan. And your next in three years kiddo." Jason said smiling smugly as he did.

"Wow dad thanks I feel the love."

"Oh don't mind him Damien he's just acting tough but losing Ethan is killing him and it'll kill him again when it's you maybe worse since there won't be anymore kids after you."

“I’m not the one who broke down in the van though.” Jason was quickly fired back with.

Ethan just smiled when watching Clover turn back around to gesture something to Jason. Little things like this is what he was going to miss. Damian bricking with him, his uncle Jason not putting up with it and his uncle Clover trying to be the peacemaker between them all. Not that anything was really ever said with malice, just normal family banter. Taking shots at each other that only they could do. Ethan frowned once everything was settled they would be leavening and this place would be quiet.

Ethan was pulled out his thoughts when he felt his uncle Clover suddenly hug him. Ethan smiled and hugged him back. It was a needed comfort. With his family it didn’t take long for Jason and Damian to join in as well.

“Man I can’t believe how old you are already.” Jason said being the first to pull away and ruffled up Ethans hair. “Feels like just yesterday you were brought to live with Clov and I. Now you're moving out and jeez I better stop before I turn into a sobbing mess like Clov was.”

“I wasn’t as bad as Damian” Clover said then looked guilty after letting that slip.

Ethan looked over to Damian after hearing that Damian was quick to pull away from the hug and looked at the floor. Mumbling about how he told Clover not to say anything about that.

“I’ll miss you too, all of you but you don’t have to worry I’m still around if you need me. I’ll be fine on my own. I'm not gonna lock myself in the bathroom or anything like that.”

The other three didn't seem too convinced, but they all just gave him a smile and nodded. Jason then looked down at his wrist to check the time. Clover peaking over to see as well as he frowned and sighed.

“Well everything is unloaded now we got to get the van back and head back home before it gets late.” Clover added

“Guy’s it fine, it's not like I'm going away I’ll call you and visit and you guys are always allowed to visit me when you want to.” Ethan tried reassuring all three of them. The uncertain looks not fully fading away but they all smiled at least.

"Yeah well look before we jet off, we have a gift for you Ethan." Jason said as he looked back to his husband.

Clover happily held out a warped object to Ethan holding on to Damian the moment Ethan took it from him. Ethan excitedly ripped the colorful paper away and smiled down at his gift. A framed image of his mother.

"A photo of mom?" Ethan asked looking over the picture.

"Damine found the original and was able to fix it up." Clover said proudly hugging Damien tighter.

"You don't really have any pictures of her so I thought it. Are you seriously about to cry?"

Ethan just nodded in response as he was tearing up looking at his cousin.

Boxes unloaded, Ethan walked his Uncles and cousin out. Goodbyes being trading back and forth the whole way out. Ethan kept waving goodbye from the sidewalk. Till the van was long out of sight. Home sickness hitting again but worse he looked up his building finding the window of his apartment. He knew he had stuff to start unpacking and start on this new life, slowly getting that he's on his own. He felt his phone start to buzz and fished it out from his jacket pocket. Seeing a text from his work friend Max, asking about meeting up with him and some of the others from work. That sounded better than being alone in that quiet apartment.

"Eh, I'll unpack later" he shrugged and said to himself

#oc fic #oc story #ethan cloud

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nikryderr · 5 years

Text

the debts of the gods are yours to keep (RoD)

a/n: I’m... really fucking proud of this one. I started this as a wild inspiration behind Colt’s backstory, writing at full-speed, and then got *major* writer’s block. I left the doc hanging on my desktop for a while, and I don’t know. I got major inspiration today and finished it. Fair warning, it’s not written in Choices-style, and reads more like snapshots throughout his life but I hope I did my best bb justice. Maybe I’ll write some actual romance, but for now, character study is where I live. CC is always welcome, and I hope you enjoy :)

pairings: Colt-centric, but some light Colt x MC + Logan x MC with Colt/Mona and Colt/Kaneko interactions

summary: Colt can’t tell when he stopped caring about his father. (Somewhere, deep in his heart, he knows that’s not true.)

rating: ehhhhh PG-13 for swearing but honest to god I had a sailor’s mouth when I was like 10 so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

length: 4612 words

The summer before his seventeenth birthday, Colt found his first love.

A 1989 Yamaha FZR-1000 – one of the first four-stroke sportbikes. He’d bartered for it at the local motor shop, offering $2000 and to fix up cars for an entire summer.

“You got your motorcycle license?”

“No.”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “You’ve ever been on one of these before?”

“Once.”

He harrumphed. “No deal.”

“You’re serious?”

“You seriously looking to get arrested, kid?”

“You can’t get arrested unless you get caught, Dale.”

For a second, the old man looked as if he was going to explode of anger. Then, he began to guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling like shiny little candy wrappers. “Fine. Entire summer. I expect you to be here, every day, you hear me? And I give you the bike after.”

“That wasn’t the deal –“

“That’s the deal I’m offering. Like I said, you can’t take this girl anywhere until you’re legal to drive it. Take it or leave it.”

Colt crossed his arms. “Fine.”

It wasn’t his ideal summer, but working at Dale’s shop beat working for his own father. He’d put on rock music from the 70’s and whistle along. He had regular customers coming in, charmed by his good nature and fair prices. Instead of throwing Colt onto his ass whenever he did something wrong, he’d patiently take the tool from his hand, lie back on the creeper, and would show him how to do it properly. It’d been a nice few weeks, one without trouble or disappointment or boredom.

“Where were you today?” It was the first thing his father said to him when Colt got back to the auto shop. He was sitting in the back room, eating a cup of yogurt. “I thought you were going to work for me over the summer.”

Colt opened up the fridge and pushed the milk aside. He snorted. “And do what – draw up price estimates for people and do paperwork? No thanks.”

“Colt, you made a promise, and I intend that you keep it –“

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember making that promise. Sounds like you and mom decided what would be best for me. As always.” He reached for the back and pulled out a Coke.

“And your driving lessons?”

He took a sip of his drink. “I passed.”

“You took the test already?” Colt tried to figure out if his father sounded upset. He decided that he didn’t.

“Yeah. Guess those driving lessons you gave me really paid off, huh?” Every year, since he turned fourteen, his father had promised him to take him out driving. He’d taken him out twice. Somewhere along those years, Colt decided that he didn’t care much about driving anymore. His father didn’t let him touch the cars, anyways, so what was the use?

“And I told you, I’m busy with the business here and –“

“Business? Yeah, keep on acting like I don’t know what’s going on here. You think I don’t know that you jack cars and sell them off to rich fucks with money to spare? You honestly think that you could keep this from me forever? You think you can just fix this by spending the bare minimum of time with me? Well you know what I say to that? Fuck. You.”

A tense pause blanketed the room. His father’s face darkened.

“Get out.”

It was strange, hearing those words coming from his father. His face was red and enraged, and Colt turned around to leave. “Yeah, I was about to leave anyways. Don’t bother calling mom to tell her what happened.” The door to the office slammed. He spun around on his heels, ready to stomp out, but someone was standing in the doorway.

“Well, he-llo, Mr. PMS.” Mona stood by, leaning against the doorframe. He’d met her once or twice. She’d appeared one day in the shop, a couple summers ago, her face haunted with something wicked. It was the first time he saw her. And it was the last time he saw that expression on her face again.

“Fuck off, Mona.” He pushed past her.

“God, I’m joking. Ass.”

“Yeah, well for it to be a joke, it had to be funny.”

“Seriously, kid? Where the hell is your sense of humor?” Mona rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’m done for the day. I’ll grab a couple beers and we’ll drink in the courtyard. Tell me about all your hormonal, teenage problems you’re dealing with.” She walked alongside him, grinning.

The “courtyard” was a makeshift junkyard for the auto shop. Whatever grass left planted was yellowed and rough from the sun beating down on the space. A decrepit chain-link fence encircled the area, rusted from years of weather.

“Christ, I don’t think I could ever get used to the summers here.” Mona fanned herself, taking a swig of her Budweiser.

Colt shrugged, sipping at his own drink. “Where are you from?”

“The Bronx. New Yohh-wk,” she said, exaggerating an accent. “Left when I was a little bit older than you are now. What are you, like fifteen?”

He sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “Almost seventeen.”

“So around the same then. Been here ever since.” She finished her can and tossed it into a pile of junk.

“Why do you work for him?”

Mona paused. “What do you mean why?”

“I mean, what do you see in him? He’s a goddamn asshole.”

“That’s not how things work around here, kiddo.”

“You mean in the crime world.”

Mona chuckled. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“So tell me how it works then. Because every time I walk into this goddamn shop my dad’s on my ass about something different. I know all of you think I’ve got it easy being the boss’s son and all, but he’s never treated me more than just some punk kid ready to get in the way.”

She stared at him, taking a long sip from her can. “Heard you bought a bike from Dale.”

“Yeah. And?”

“What, the old geezer strike you a deal or something?”

“Two-thousand.” Colt paused, gauging Mona’s reaction. “And I’m working at his shop for the summer.”

“Where’s the bike?”

“He says I’ve got to work it off first. What does this have to with anything?”

“Same thing.” She downed her beer and threw the can across the way again. “You’ve gotta pay before you get your bike. Except in my case, your father here gave me my gift first.”

“What was it?”

Mona paused, and looked over at him. He thought he saw that expression again, flitting across her eyes. “My freedom.”

Before Colt could answer, Toby swung open the back door, covered head to toe in car grease.

“Hey! No fair! You guys are drinking without me?” He grabbed a beer from the 24-pack and cracked it open. Mona snatched it from him.

“Yeah, well maybe you should have thought about how fair it was to drink all of my Red Bulls right before my job last week.”

“What? I didn’t know they were yours!” “What’s going on out here?” Ximena called, sticking her head out the door.

“Nothing, aside from the fact that Toby thinks he can just constantly take shit from me –“

“I paid you back!”

“Yeah, if you count adding dumb mods to my car repaying me. “

“It’s a cooler! Now you don’t have to store your Red Bulls in the communal fridge!”

In the midst of the commotion, Colt slipped out. The bus ride home was packed, the idle chatter of different languages humming underneath his thoughts. He watched the auto shop fade away into the distance, like a balloon, floating high into the sky.

****

He doesn’t understand her. Or him, for that matter. They walked around the sideshow, looking at each other with googly eyes and at him with daggers, like he’d done something to ruin their lives.

As if. He’d met them like, what, an hour ago? And soon after that, Dale had gently told him that the smirking kid in the t-shirt was his replacement. Logan, no last name. He snorted at that.

“Him? He couldn’t outdrive the girl he’s pulling around.”

Dale shook his head. “Everyone’s saying he’s the new hotshot driver that Kaneko’s been training. Came around a year ago, I s’pose. Don’t know anything else ‘bout him. Anyways, how’s school on the East Coast?”

Before Colt could answer, shouts filled the air. He rode his way around the crowd, finding the center of the commotion. Salazar. The man towered over Logan, an assured smirk plastered onto his face. Logan’s girl stood by, equal parts indignant and terrified at the events unfolding in front of her.

“Seems your boyfriend’s looking to add insult to injury.”

The girl whipped her head around scowling at his comment. “Whoever you are, this is none of your business.” She turned back around, watching as Logan popped the hood off of the…

Aylesbury. How many times had he seen his father drive off in that car, the deep green hunk of metal rumbling down the street? And how many times had his father slapped his hand away for even touching the side mirror?

And here the boy was, keys dangling from his back pocket as he fiddled around with the engine. He wasn’t going to. He couldn’t – not if Colt could help it.

“That car… he’s wagering it on the race?”

“I think it’s totally crazy… but yeah.”

“Then it just became my business.” He could feel the girl’s eyes on his back as he negotiated his way into the race. His heart pounded. Heat radiated from the inside of his helmet. There was no turning back now. This was his race to win.

****

“You could have gotten killed.”

Colt scoffed and slumped into the plastic seat by the office door, taking in his surroundings. His father paced the space behind his desk. Papers were strewn everywhere – on the ground, on the desk, and tacked up on the walls. By the furthest corner was a small pile of trash, mostly filled by yogurt cups and takeout containers, overfilling the wastepaper basket.

“Looks like you’re doing real well here.” His father glared at him. Colt groaned. “Ohhh, I see. We’re going to pretend to care for each other now. Well, guess what? In all my generosity, I won your fucking car back for you. Not him.”

“You’re careless. You don’t think. And you expect me to thank you?”

“No. I expect that we’re even now.”

His father stopped pacing. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand! You’ve shut me out of this life – your life – for so long. And then you bring in some pretty boy to do your bidding, praise him for almost wrecking your car –“

“Listen here, boy, do not pretend to understand my relationship with them.” He pointed out the door, lowering his voice an octave. “I’ve told you time and time again that you’re not going to get involved with this crew.”

“Why not? You scared, Pop? Terrified that your own son will take the throne?”

“No. Because you’re weak.”

The words cut, like crawling naked on fine shards of glass. But he balled his hands into fists and bit his lip. “You need me. I’m staying. Whether you like it or not.”

After a long pause, his father finally answered. “Fine. But you’re working the desk. No questions.” And with that, he pushed open the door, ready to tell everyone the news.

Colt un-balled his fists. There, on his palm, were eight little crescent indents filled with blood.

****

“Where is he?”

The voice called out, above him somewhere, the words hanging in between the clinks of metal and occasional drilling. It half scared him, having gotten used to the loud humming of the shop. The noise was calming; almost white noise, with no expectation of conversation or small talk. It was why he hated the front desk. The crackheads, reeking of old sweat and smoke, trying to barter their way out of paying for the work on their jalopies. The lost LA moms, waiting for their SUVs, their sparkly designer sunglasses parked on top of their heads. Every few seconds, they’d touch them, as if he was going to snatch them and run.

Colt slid out from under the car. “What?” He snapped.

She looked mildly surprised to see him. “Oh. I thought you were only supposed to work the desk.”

“Toby left for some sideshow in Arcadia. Are we done here?”

“Logan. Do you know where he is?”

Colt snorted. “No.” He slid back to the undercarriage, hoping she’d take the hint.

Instead, she crouched down. “Come on, I know you’re here all day, you probably saw him leave.”

He slid out and threw his gloves onto the ground. He walked into the back room. She followed, right on his heels. “If you’re half as smart as I think you are, you should probably stay away from him.”

“I – What did he even do to you?” She crossed her arms, her expression darkening. “Or me, for that matter?”

“It only takes an idiot to see that you don’t fit in here.”

“Oh, so, what, this is middle school now? You’ve got a clique, and I’m not allowed because I’m not cool enough?” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know me!” Her eyes were fiery now, defiant. It gave him a jump in his stomach. His fingers tingled.

“I might not know you, but I know your type.”

“Try me.”

“Let me guess, 4.0 GPA, Daddy’s Princess, and broke curfew once because you stayed late at the library? You’re the teacher’s pet, so everyone pretty much hates you, and let’s see – a virgin?”

He could see her steaming at the last comment, and he laughed. “Did I really get all of that right?” He shook his head. “I’m good, but I’m never that good.”

“You’re a coward.”

“What?”

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her eyes were all fire, the flames licking up whatever oxygen was left in the room. “You’re a coward. You think you’ll never measure up to anyone; not Logan, not your dad, not a single person out there. So you stopped trying a long time ago because you think that disappointing anyone, especially yourself, is worse than the chance at succeeding – and guess what? You’re right. You’ll never succeed. Because as soon as you get that slightest taste at victory, you get an ego, you think you’re invincible – and you’ll fall, right back down with all of us that work the daily grind.”

She was close now, her eyes barely an inch away from his nose. This is the part where you kiss her, his mind shouted, but he silenced the thought as soon as it blared out. A ridiculous suggestion, Colt thought, pampered by stupid movies and TV shows. He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but someone called out her name.

“Logan!” Her voice rose an octave, peppered with excitement.

Colt shoved his hands into his pockets as she floated away from him. He pretended to avert his eyes from them, sneaking glances at them from his periphery.

There was something wrong with this picture. He was going to find out what.

****

Who knew she was so dangerous? Even more dangerous than his own father. After all, they only targeted the wealthy, fingers well-oiled and fat off their own gluttony. Her father? As much as the cop thought he was keeping the streets clean, he picked up good, honest people in some dire times as much as he did the trigger-happy gunslingers, the greedy dope sellers. He’d seen the stories in the papers. Colt knew some of them, the ones that were swept away behind bars. Always labeled with their race, their age, their poison of choice. Black, 28, robbery. White, 35, aggravated assault.

In the back of his mind, Colt wondered when he’d see his father in those listings. His habits and idiosyncrasies erased, his identity reduced to the corporeal.

She doesn’t know what a deadly game this is. For him, for his father, for Mona, for Toby, for Ximena. For Logan. For her. His father’s voice boomed in his head. The cops don’t owe you. You owe the cops.

****

“I know how you feel.”

“Huh?”

“My mom was sick.”

“It’s different.”

“It’s not different. We’d had a fight the night before, about something stupid, like cleaning up my stuff or not finishing my homework or something. I stormed out the morning after without saying goodbye. And… and – she collapsed while at was school. And when I found out, I thought it was my fault that she was there, that I somehow willed her to get sick. So every night, I’d pray to something out there, a God, or maybe a star, that if she lived, I’d promise to be the best daughter ever.”

“And here you are.”

“She died a month later.”

“And the promise wasn’t kept.”

“My point is, it’s not too late for you. He’s in there. He cares about you.”

She reached out her hand. Colt gently took it. Her palms were soft, her knuckles smooth.

If the cop’s daughter was the end of him, so be it.

****

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Mona groaned.

She sounded more annoyed than worried, which relieved Colt. If he could show her how airtight the plan was, she’d agree.

“Not a big deal for me,” Salazar grunted.

“Your ex-wife’s kid doesn’t count.” Mona rolled her eyes and Salazar deflated, grumpy that she’d revealed his secret. “Why are we listening to him, anyways?” She leaned on the desk, towering over Kaneko, as if she could pull the answer from the man’s mouth herself.

“I’m not a kid anymore – “

“We’re talking about kidnapping. A fucking member of The Brotherhood.”

“About 3800 pounds lighter than stealing a car.”

She gave Colt a dirty look. “This isn’t the time for one of your wisecracks. Boss, you do realize that this is a dumb plan, right? We kidnap the guy, hold him for ransom, and then what? Have the fucking Brotherhood come after our necks with chainsaws?”

“Yeah, what’s in it for me, huh? Sounds like this is a whole lotta trouble for a couple thousand bucks.”

Everyone began to argue, but Kaneko held up a hand, shutting the three up. He cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard the story of The Hare and The Lion?”

Colt furrowed his brow. Mona rolled her eyes. “It’s official, the old man’s lost it.” “So I take it you haven’t.”

Salazar slammed his hand on the desk. “You better be going somewhere with this.” Kaneko gave him an imperceptible nod, barely flinching at the noise.

“Once upon a time, a lion ruled the jungle. The lion was very cruel, and every day, he demanded that an animal from the jungle be delivered to him, so he could devour it.

“One day, the hare was picked for the lion’s daily meal. Of course, the poor hare didn’t want to be eaten at all. So the hare, full of wit, presented himself to the lion and told the beast that on the way, he’d met another lion that claimed to be the King of the Jungle.

“The lion, very angry that another animal dare take his title from him, asked the hare where this other lion was. The hare led him to a well, claiming the lion was down there waiting for him.

“The lion looked down and roared, intending to scare the other animal into subservience. But of course, the lion was not very smart and mistook his reflection as another lion calling back at him. Furious with this imposter, he jumped into the well to attack the lion, and he drowned. And the hare ran off to tell the other animals of the jungle, free at last.”

Kaneko knitted his fingers together and placed them on the desk. “Well? What do you think?”

Mona glared. “I think if you’re not going to tell me what this goddamn nonsense means, I’m out.” Salazar nodded, in rare agreement with the other.

“What I’m saying is that we pretend to scratch their backs.” Colt pulled up the picture of the contact. “We tell them that there’s another enemy, a traitor in their ranks. We kidnap him, and offer him up to the fuckers.”

Mona widened her eyes, and smirked. “We give them their own fake lion.”

“They’ll be so wrapped up in dealing with him that they won’t see us coming. We’ll get them out of our way, for good. We’ll be arranging the pick-up…” He pulled up the picture of the stadium on his phone and showed it to Mona and Salazar. “…Here. The shithead’s a huge fan of the Badgers. It’s why we need you, Sal.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Colt caught a glimpse of his father smile. The first, he thought, in seven years.

“And what about the others? Toby, Ximena, the girl… Logan?” Colt knew why she asked. After all, he’d been in on it up until this point. Up until he got tangled in her lips and her hair and that sunshine smile and… Colt swallowed. He shook the thought of her from his mind.

A slow pause filled the air. Finally, Kaneko answered. “He won’t understand. He’s weak with love. He won’t risk putting her in danger.”

No, he wouldn’t.

****

Pop… please… you can’t leave me.

Go, Colt. Go, and don’t look back.

**** He’d been on the cusp of twelve years – almost twelve revolutions around the sun, as his father liked to say. He’d grown a half-a-foot in the past summer, his legs long and spindly, like a baby doe. Sometimes he spent his time playing driveway basketball with the neighborhood kids – well, only if they’d let him. Most of the time, he sat on the curb, steaming as the kids called him “half-breed” and “slant-eyes” all while participating in a game of keep-away, six little demons against himself. So he’d sit on his front stoop and adjust the laces on his Air Force 1’s, trying to make room for his ever-growing feet. Occasionally he’d walk to the mini-mart and pilfer candy from the aisles. Last time though, the shop owner caught him pocketing a peppermint, and threatened to call his parents. Colt didn’t care. His parents never listened to him much these days. His mother would cry while his father would drive off, almost always with a knapsack and silent ruffle of Colt’s head. Moonlight would bounce off the shining silver rims of the car and Colt would watch until it was a tiny speck of green, floating on the edge of the horizon, the cries of the engine lasting far longer than his young eyes could see.

But his father always came back. Always.

Sometimes with a gift – a shiny new Hot Wheels that mirrored his father’s latest ride and half-wilted supermarket flowers for his mother. A sorry gift from a sorry man, Colt thought now, but at the time, it was the most romantic gesture he’d ever seen. The carnations would sit in a plastic thermos filled to the brim with lukewarm water, and he’d count the days down. By the time all the petals gathered around the makeshift vase, there would be another incident.

It’d been a good streak this time around. No incidents. The petals on the last bunch of flowers had long been swept up, leaving the shriveled stems in the vase like long, fragile pieces of straw. Colt hoped this time it’d be different, with his birthday in a week, and the arid LA heat withering to make room for cooler breezes. He imagined he’d ask for new shoes. He’d blow out number candles from a chocolate cake.

And different was what he’d got. Three days before his twelfth birthday, Colt jolted awake from the familiar sound of the engine. The sky was dark gray, hinting at the sun’s imminent arrival. He’s leaving, Colt thought. Without saying goodbye. Pulling the covers off his bed, he tiptoed down the stairs and burst through the door.

“Hey!” His shout barely rose over the engine’s hum. “Wait!”

His father peered over from the driver’s seat window. He sighed and turned off the engine. “Colt, you should be asleep.”

“I want to go with you,” Colt replied breathlessly. “Please.”

Colt looked for a hint of give in his father’s face. There wasn’t any. His face remained stoic, like always. “All right. Hop on up.”

Colt stepped into the car, the fuzzy car mat tickling the soles of his feet. His father turned the keys in the ignition and backed out of the driveway. Colt looked out his window, watching his little house until it turned into a speck of dust. He turned back around, looking over at his father.

“Where are we going?”

There was a pause. “Where do you want to go?”

Colt thought for a second. “In-N-Out.” His father laughed.

Soon, Colt was dangling his legs off the cliff, chowing down on a Double-Double Cheeseburger and dipping his French fries into a strawberry shake. He looked down as he ate, watching the waves slurp up the side of the precipice. Further into the horizon, the water rocked, reflecting rivulets of the orange sky in between the blue. There they sat, completely silent. He remembered the times when his father would push him off the cliff, rambling about courage and honor and bravery in the face of danger. And he’d fall, fall, fall, his father’s words lost in between the roaring folds of water.

“Colt.”

“MMmreah?” He mumbled, mouth full of burger.

“When – when I was your age, my father didn’t give me a choice.” His voice cracked, and his usually serious tone was tinged with a hint of sadness.

Colt furrowed his eyebrows. He’d never heard his father stutter, and it made him nervous. “Whaddya mean, Pop?”

“He told me that in this country, we would never be seen as equals. So we had to take the power for ourselves. That to make a name for yourself, you had to yell it louder than anyone else.”

Colt thought of the kids down the block, who called him names and didn’t let him play basketball.

“Your grandfather was a great man. I strive to be as fearless as he was. But I’ve done some things in my life that I’m ashamed of.”

All he could think of was the kid’s face, bloodied and bruised. He’d called him a “dirty half-breed bastard”. Colt had pummeled the kid’s pudgy face, fat from a steady diet of Twinkies and Butterfingers he’d seen him munching. He could recall how soft his face was against his own knuckles. He remembered how he didn’t feel any pain, not for a while, not until two hands wrestled him off of the boy. He’d ran back to his stoop and cried, his right knuckles stained blood-red.

“You’ll be better off this way. I’m a better man than your grandfather was, and I know you’ll be a better one than me.”

The brightening sky cast a golden halo on his father’s face, and the water sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand diamonds.

“Someday, you will thank me.”

His father rose and walked back to the car, and beckoned for Colt to get up. Grabbing the bag of food, he followed, and his father accelerated away from the cliff. Colt gazed at the fiery ocean, the distant sounds of the Pacific lulling him back to sleep.

****

#playchoices #playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choices fanfiction #ride or die

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sheepsandcattle · 4 years

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Chapter 19

His hands are shaking from withdrawal or anger or both as he stirs the off-coloured liquid with the end of a syringe. His phone is pinging beside him, but he ignores it because he knows it’s Jeff asking where he is, and he can’t be arsed with it right now. He’s late. He knows.

Jules reckons he’s in over his head. He’s not making money like he used to, and he knows it’s because he got caught up in it all. He spends more time in the apartment than he does out on making deals these days. He’s barely making rent and Jules is charging him full for the drugs now and he was meant to be with Jeff and Dean an hour ago, sipping beer before they leave the apartment but instead, he’s doing junk on his bedroom floor because—

Hear him out. Everything’s just so fucking much recently. He’s always feeling so blinded and he just wants a bit of darkness.

Does that make sense?

The phone goes off yet again and he gives in, balancing the syringe on his knee as he sends a hurried text; ‘meet u there.’ He was meant to tell them ages ago. Most have forgotten.

After hurriedly drawing the liquid into the needle, he pulls the lace tight around his bicep to take the hit. When he’s done, he chucks the syringe into a mug and leans back onto the end of his bed. He’ll clean it later.

X-Ray Spex are playing so loud that the bass drowns out his pulse. The weight of it drags him into the ground, pins his hands down and his eyelids shut as he breathes through it; heavily through his mouth. He stays put for a while, listening to the music and letting the room evaporate around him until he’s floating in black tar.

He remembers listening to this album on a field with his best mate at seventeen, weed-high with his eyes shut and wishing he could disassociate; to stop feeling and smelling and seeing and hearing anything else around him. Just the music that made his brain jump about in his daft head.

Now he is buried in warm sand and all he can feel is the beat vibrating the ground and all he can smell is nothing and all he can see is black.

For a second, when the song ends and before the next one begins, he feels and smells and sees and hears absolutely nothing. Then Poly Styrene is chanting “I'm a cliché, I'm a cliché, I'm a cliché, I'm a cliché,” and all of his senses come back all at once.

He groans, counts to ten, and forces himself up from the ground. His legs fail him for half a second, but his elbow becomes acquainted with his dresser in time to stop the fall. He grabs a pack of fags whilst he’s there, counts himself in again, and slumps out of his room and through the apartment.

They’re going to a party tonight. It’s half ten at night and Jules has gone out for a fag, which he’d usually do inside but he’s pissed off as well.

He finds him sat on the curb outside, smoking steadily, eyes cast down to his phone. He looks up when the door shuts behind Curly, asks, “you ready,” and Curly nods.

They sit in silence in the car and split off when they get to the party. Curls finds Jeff and Dean almost immediately and sits with them in the living room, lighting a joint and sinking into the sofa as the conversation fills the rest of the air around him.

After an hour or so, Jeff asks, “Curls, are you good,” and Dean says, “man you don’t look right,” but he doesn’t feel like defending himself and he’s soon shuffling pitifully across the front yard to where Jules now sits on the curb with Oscar who’s fresh out of work.

Curls says, “I’m sorry, mate,” and falls beside Jules, arse hitting the pavement so hard his breath thumps and all the air within a twelve-mile radius fills his skull. He takes a long, deep breath to compose himself. “Sorry I’m a cunt, I aren’t like you. I’ve got nothing happening for me these days. It’s rubbish.”

He supposes he did blow up for no reason; didn’t want to come out tonight but didn’t want to be alone again. That’s all. He just wanted Jules to stay, because ever since he came clean about Jordan, he’s felt just a bit closer to his roommate, even if he never tended to say the right thing and, if anything, has become more distant than ever. He just wants someone to cling to for a while.

“That’s not my fault,” Jules scoffs, but he passes his lighter to Curly like a peace-offering. “You got fired. You ditched your guy. You cut your best friend off. You called your mom a… What was it?”

“A daft cow,” he mumbles, and they both laugh a little, but then pretend it never happened because they’re both still meant to be just a little bit angry.

“Right. You did that, not me.”

“I know,” he mumbles, and he feels so fucking minuscule. It’s not really that funny, is it? “It’s just… Shit. Feel like I’m going mental.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you need to get out more. Not just for deals,” Oscar chimes in now and great, he’s had enough of Curly, too. He wonders if Jules has filled their roommate in on Curly’s shit show. Jules nods along with Oscar.

“Yeah. I know, I know.” He doesn’t really know what else to say. “Can I nick a fag?”

Their place on the curb rings with a chilling silence, but the 'oh Curly’ type of laughter that follows washes the tension away and the air is breathable again.

The night feels easy after that and it turns out he isn’t fussed about being out of the apartment after all. The house is a bit rammed and Jeff is winding him up, giving him a look every time he opens another beer, but other than that, he feels comfortable. It’s the first time in weeks that he doesn’t feel like he’s buried in static and white noise.

“Hey Curls, you good?”

It’s a little later when Oscar nudges his shoulder and he’s drunk too, so Curly’s not embarrassed to slur his words.

“Yeh. Have y’got a lighter?”

“Ask me in thirty minutes,” Oscar says. “Oh, and Curls, go clean yourself up, man.”

Curly doesn’t understand why he has to wait or what he’s meant to be cleaning up, but he gets distracted soon after anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

Dean kisses his cheek at some point. His beard itches and whilst he’s there he whispers, “you wanna crash with us tonight, buddy,” and Curly shakes his head but says, “cheers though.”

Dean’s wiping kitchen roll over Curly’s forearm and there’s a little blood on it but God knows why. Well, Curly knows why. Because he keeps forgetting to ‘rotate scenes’ or whatever it is Jules keeps badgering him about.

“Maybe you should head home,” Dean suggests. Curly walks off.

He dances alone in the kitchen for a bit, then in the living room and then talks to a bloke called Rooney about modern punks and how Curly reckons “it has a whole new meaning these days, and Morrissey is a complete arsehole. Always has been, mate,” but then realises Rooney is a knob who won’t pipe down about immigrants and all the rights he reckons they don’t deserve.

He tells Rooney to sod off and dances some more in the back yard instead with someone (or no one - who knows?)

Someone says, “your accent is bullshit,” and someone asks, “what are you on, dude? Got any spare?” Somebody else tells him, “yeah, no, I get it. Like I tried to go vegan once but…” something, something, something…

A boy with nice eyelashes tells him his hair is amazing and asks to touch it and, oh, at one point he speaks to a bloke named Henry. That’s his dad’s name and Henry says, “yeah, you already said.”

“Your hair’s growing like crazy,” Jordan tells him and... Oh.

Curly doesn’t remember starting a conversation with him, doesn’t even remember seeing him here. Doesn’t remember coming back inside from the back yard or how he ended up in an empty bath, fully clothed with him, shoes scuffing the sides of the tub.

“So why did you wanna talk to me in the bathtub?”

Oh. Alright. Wow, okay. Why did he want to do that?

He rubs his face. He thinks... He thinks. Think think think. Okay. The party was too full. Jeff said, “Curls, slow down,” and Dean said, “J, don’t bother. He’s had too much already.” Jules and Oscar went home (he thinks) and everyone said he should go with them, but he’s been having too much fun and doesn’t like being told when to stop.

“Everyone ’ad too much t’say.”

“Right… But what did you want to say?”

Fuck’s sake. What did he want to say? His head throbs when his temple hits the wall and, oh, was he tilting? Jordan’s hand slips between his head and the tiles, the other landing on the other side of his skull and bracing him.

“Curls, are you alright? Curly, hey.” Curly’s head is tilted back, J’s thumbs digging into his cheeks. “Open your eyes.”

“Yeh.” He does as he’s told, and it turns out his head isn’t tilted back after all, it’s just at the right angle to watch Jordan as he frowns. Didn’t even realise he’d closed his eyes in the first place. Why is he in a bath with— Oh, yeah. “I just… wanted t’say…. Fuckin’ell.”

“I’ll get Jeff-“

“No— jus’…” Curly’s hands are on Jordan’s face now, until the weight of them wins and they drop to his shoulders instead, grabbing the material of his shirt so they don’t fall away. “Are y’a’right?”

Jordan’s eyes narrow, his brows crease and his face tilts slightly. Then he laughs and Curly thinks God bless.

“You. You just wanna know if I’m alright?” His words are tinted with laughter and everything is warm and cool at the same time. “Yeah, Curls. I’m alright. Are you alright?”

He hums, blinking slowly, and when he opens his eyes, he’s on Jeff and Dean’s couch.

The apartment is dead quiet but there’s light coming through the blinds that someone forgot to close. He has a thick, knitted blanket draped over his top half, but he’s still got all his clobber on and his feet hang over the arm of the sofa, Dr. Martens weighing his ankles down. His arm is aching like mad when he feels around for his phone and when he looks down, he’s got a peeling plaster patched onto the crease of his elbow.

His phone has two missed calls and a new message. They’re all Jordan.

10:34 - text when your up

He’s ready to crawl up his own arse with embarrassment. He hesitates but texts back saying exactly that and, within two minutes, Jordan is ringing him.

He answers and forgets to say hello at first, but when he remembers, it’s sandy and his voice takes a second to wear in and the ‘h’ is missing.

“Morning. How’re you feeling?” Jordan’s voice feels worn and sleepy too and Curly can picture him now, in bed with his hair scruffy and his glasses on because contacts are too much effort for the first five minutes of his morning.

“Shite. Head’s killing me,” he grumbles, groaning as he rolls onto his back. “Fuck’s sake. Sorry for last night.”

Jordan laughs over the line and Curly hears him take a breath and reckons he’s getting out of bed or off the sofa. He wills himself to do the same, but only sinks further into the cushions as he listens to Jordan speak. “No need. You didn’t do anything.”

“Was I sick?” Silence. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I was. Was it bad? Did I row with—“

“No, no,” he cuts him off and he’s giggling. Giggling. As if. “No puke, no rowing…”

Curly can’t quite decide if he wants more information or he’d prefer to stay blissfully unaware, so he stays quiet and waits for Jordan to decide for him.

“Your nose still bleeding?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Listen, about what you said last night: I get it. A’ight?” Curly racks his brain, trying to figure out what he could be on about, and Jordan must make sense of his silence. “If you don’t remember, it don’t matter, I just. I wanted you to know I’m sorry for—“

“Curly,” a voice chimes from behind him, and he finally pushes himself up from the sofa, met with Dean stretching his arms over his head as he makes his way from his room and towards the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

“Is that…“ Jordan pauses. “Call me back later, yeah? We’ll talk about it.”

“No, it’s alright, now’s fine,” Curly insists, but the line’s already dead. Dean’s looking guilty, only now realising he’d been on the phone, but Curly says, “morning, mate. I feel like utter shit,” as he drops the phone into his lap.

“I bet you do,” Dean chuckles as he hobbles sleepily into the kitchen. Curly hears crockery clang as he calls, “hey, at least your nose stopped bleeding.”

#Okay everyone it's time to breathe #ch #ch19 #writing

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

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What Weird Tales We Weave!

During a particularly long and vicious Pacific Northwest winter, I developed a strange affinity for a band called WEIRD TALES. The doom trio of Dima (guitars, vox), Kriss (bass, vox), and Kava (drums) emerged three or four years ago from a part of the world that gets cold, miserable weather ten times as worse as mine. I was never quite sure what to make of the Warsaw band's warped, sloggy sound, made all the more odd with its imposing Gothic vocals and pernicious earworms. All I knew was that Weird Tales had some bad, bad medicine to offer during a time in life when I'd grown pretty jaded and disillusioned. It was, as the well-worn saying goes, just what the doctor ordered.

Before us is the latest and most ambitious effort to date from Weird Tales and I must say it's showing me a brave new side to the band. As 'Hell Services Cost A Lot' (2019) opens, we hear an orchestral crescendo of screeching feedback. Dogs are barking in the background, perhaps to warn lurkers of dangers just beyond the shadows. The band responds with a vicious beating of guitar, bass, and drums. It's an attack we're not used to hearing on doom records and I find it refreshing to break away from the gloom for a chance to vent some good old fashioned aggression. This instrumental preamble eventually gives way to the first words of "Madness" and the record is off to take care of its mischief.