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creepling · 4 years

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anything could happen (irl!quackity x reader)

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader

word count: 2,805

summary: the reader is roomates with karl jacobs, and he is beginning to be concerned about the reader. when karl invites the reader to hang out with him and his friends, the reader is hesitant. however, they end up having a very deep conversation with alex.

tw: swearing, use of alcohol (mild), some angst, ends with fluff!!

alternative link: ao3.

I sneaked into the apartment as best as I could. I knew if I made one faint sound, the living room light would switch on and a very judgemental Karl would be sitting on his fancy couch (that he spent way too much money on) shaking his head and tutting at me like a disapproving mother.

And behold, that's exactly what came next when I dropped my boots too hard onto the ground when slipping them off. Only the lamp next to the couch flicked on. Karl paying mind to the electricity bill, I suppose.

"Have a nice night? Or should I say, very early morning?" God, he sounded angry. It took a ton of pressure to make Karl angry, making him impatient was like putting pressure on hard metal. And yet, my lifestyle really rubbed Karl the wrong way.

"Damn, you really stayed up late for me?" I tried to joke off, plopping myself onto Karl's fancy couch. His tongue rolled along the inside of his cheek, his arms crossed, he couldn't even look me in the eye. Instead he just muttered, "No, I just finished streaming."

After a very awkward pause, Karl finally spoke.

"Why do you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"I used to think maybe you were seeing someone, y'know like just the one person. Then I caught on it's more than just one person. You go out a drive with a different person every weekend, whether that be to hook up with them or just hang out."

"And what's up with that?" I asked, a little irritated. "Geez, Karl, I know we're different when it comes to relationships. But everyone is different— why can't you respect that about me?"

"It's not—" Karl said, a little to loudly, getting annoyed. He must've felt like I wasn't listening to him. He eventually lowered his voice and continued. "It's not the acts themselves that bother me. It's that you do these things, and you're never satisfied. You still hang out with people that you don't even like— you always come back and tell me how toxic they are. And then you hook up with people and say how it wasn't enjoyable. I just want you to be happy, and seeing you do things that make you feel unsatisfied worries me."

Karl could not have explained it better, his words perfectly summed up my feelings in the past few years. Ever since I had to get back up on my feet after hard times, being able to live as a roommate with Karl; have a roof over my head. Sometimes I just put myself in uncomfortable situations because I feel like I am not good enough.

"I understand, Karl. I honestly do. But— it's all I have. I have no one else to depend on." My eyes, like Karl's moments before, could not bare to look at him.

"You have me, (Y/N). You can hang out with me and my friends." At this moment, Karl had a tint of a smile on his face and he placed his hand on my drooped shoulder.

I could not contain the scoff that left my lips. "Me and your friends are so different from each other. I barely know anything about video games or Minecraft or streaming. I've talked to your friends before and I never know what to say to them."

"There's more to us than just our jobs, (Y/N)" Karl said, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "And what the hell are you talking about! My friends think you're so cool and always ask about you! I mean, I remember you and Alex—"

"I barely know Alex! We literally shared one laugh together because I knew the meme he referenced." I said, a smile plastered on my dumb face. Maybe I was smiling because deep down, I was beginning to remember how fun Karl's friends were. To be honest, I always felt a little jealous when I would hear Karl and his friends belly laugh on a stream. These dumb-asses were literally being paid to hang out with each other. Meanwhile, I busted my ass for a minimum wage and hung out with people that never see me as a priority. Maybe one day Karl's rich Youtube friend would give me money to do some stupid challenge.

"I'm not gonna lie, out of all my friends, Alex is the one who asks about you the most. At first he would do it to tease me— making sex jokes about you and us. But when he eventually met you, he asked genuine questions about you. Like the other day, he asked me out of the blew about if you went to college or worked a job."

I definitely did not admit it to Karl, but I actually found that flattering. Yeah, maybe I thought Alex was a little too loud on Karl's streams and I would have to cover my head with a pillow to try sleep at night. However, when I met him for that short moment when Karl's friends came to the house, he was genuinely a very funny guy. I remembered we were the same age, he was Mexican and studying law. If he remembered anything about me, I have no idea.

When I couldn't hide my smile of flattery, Karl looked at me and smiled back. He got up from the couch, about to turn off the light, but stopped himself and turned back. "Hey, instead of going out with your shitty friends next weekend, you should stay here. I'm inviting some of my friends to hang out. I think it would be cool if you joined us." Karl said without hesitation, leaving his words as an open thought.

"I'll think about it." Was all I could say, which was enough to make Karl smile, then wish me a goodnight. When I got into my room and crashed onto the bed, I left the invitation in my mind to think about until the next week.

It was finally the weekend again, after a long weekday of working I sat at my desk after putting on some casual clothes. Sometimes, I just liked to get ready in case last minute plans popped up. I still had the idea of hanging out with Karl and his friends in my mind. Yet, I began to feel nervous. I do not know why, but being surrounded by new faces always made me tense. I count myself as a pretty confident person, but there was something about Karl's friends that intimidated me. Maybe it was their crude humour or 'fame' status that made me feel iffy. Either way, I sat there, looking at my wall blankly, hearing the faint noises of Karl arranging the living room for his friends arriving. As a fumbled with by sleeves and chilled out to music, my bedroom door flew open and a really happy Karl stood there.

"So? Are you joining us tonight?" He asked, anticipating a positive response.

"I don't know, Karl." I lightly groaned, the nerves still having a hold on me.

"C'mon, (Y/N). It's nothing too big. Some of the guys are having beers, which I know you enjoy." Karl winked playfully.

I barked out a laugh when I heard his words. "You always say I have an alcohol problem!"

"Exactly! Let your alcoholism be the reason you hang out with us!" Karl was trying to drag me out the room at this point.

"Piss off!" I laughed, feebly slapping Karl.

"Please . . . They really want to meet you again!" Karl dragged me into the living room. Then, a sharp knock came from the door. "Too late! They're already here!"

Admittedly, it was awkward at first. The group immediately wanted to play video games, which I guessed was going to happen. I respectively sat on the couch and watched them play as if I was just watching a movie. I smiled throughout, watching them bicker and yell at each other through competitive spirit. The energy was chaotic, but enjoyable. It was a different environment I was use to, it was more relaxed, but still had the fun aspects I chase for. For the first time in a while, I felt like I could act like myself; the chill version of me. I was not afraid of being judged or talked down to. The nerves that consumed me hours before slipped away effortlessly.

The few bottles of beer I had throughout the night had gotten to my head eventually, my heavy eyes were opening and closing as I snuggled up to the edge of the couch. I checked my phone now and then, scrolling through social media. By this point, some of the group had fallen asleep from drunkenness, or went home. The string of people left were beginning to wind down; Karl offered spare pillows and blankets for the ones who wanted to crash. From the silence I assumed everyone, even Karl himself, were drifting off to sleep. Until I heard a voice acknowledge me.

"Not going to sleep?"

It was Alex. I realized once I looked up, seeing he was exiting the kitchen with another drink, with one beer in his other hand that he was beckoning to me. I took it, mumbling a thanks, my eyes trailing towards him as he took a seat next to me.

"I'm used to staying up late at the weekends, so my body clock is all over the place." I confessed, smirking down at my beer bottle before taking a light sip.

"At least you aren't a light-weight like most of these idiots." Alex joked, looking around the room at his friends. "I suspected we would play more games, but I think people couldn't hack anymore. It's a shame though, I felt like we didn't include you too much."

It was considerate for Alex to say that, but I chuckled dismissively. "I didn't feel left out, don't worry. I enjoyed the company. I needed a chill night like this one."

Alex smiled at that, and immediately looked down when he did, but it was still contagious enough to make me smile. For a short moment I took in his appearance. He hadn't changed much from the last time I saw him. Still wore a beanie that took up 90% of his head, no matter the weather.

"I don't know if Karl mentioned but—" Alex began, suddenly becoming bashful. "I bought the beers for you, as a kind of present. I remembered you drinking them the last time we were over."

"Oh my God— Karl didn't say to me . . ." I said. "That's so thoughtful of you, thank you so much."

He really did that? Considering we were just acquaintances, I did not expect that. I had drank them throughout the next, since they were my favourite. He remembered something so miniscule about me. I then added, "You didn't have to do that."

Alex was biting the bottom half of his lip before he said, "I mean— I wanted to get you a little something. We all did— really. We always feel bad coming over here and never having the time to get to know you. This is your house just as much it is Karl's."

I scoffed after taking a swig of my drink. "It's more Karl's house than mine. He's the one that lives in it. I'm always working or out hanging out with people. The only time I'm ever here is when I'm sleeping or eating. In fact, this is the first night in I have had in months."

"What do you do then if you're barely in the house?" Alex asked.

I became a little tense. Remembering Karl's chat last week made me realise how useless my life was. Karl was right, the things I do and the people I hang out with do not benefit me in a positive way. My 'friends' haven't even texted me today to ask why I'm not hanging out with them. I truly never had anyone that cared for me. I sure haven't had anyone do something as small as buying me my favourite beers. I shook my head and muttered, "Nothing interesting . . ."

My face must have exposed my sadness, as Alex had a look of concern on his face. To ease the tension, I looked over to him and twitched a smile. However, I don't think it convinced him. God, I hate worrying people.

"I know we barely know each other yet. But— If there's something on your mind, you can always talk to me about it."

Normally I dread hearing words like that, but looking at Alex and how calm he seemed to be around me convinced me I could trust him in that moment. Before I realized, I was spilling my train of thought all over the atmosphere. I told Alex about my 'friends'; how I feel like they never give a shit about me. I confessed that I am unhappy with my life, that I feel like I am wasting my time and potential. I admitted my distain for making Karl worried about my wellbeing every time I came back to the apartment. Lastly, I affirmed that tonight was the first time I felt happy among another's company in a very long time. How I felt content, knowing no one would judge me or think I was taking up space. I thanked him again and again, knowing that his act of service was little to him, but absolutely gigantic to me.

"What you and your friends did tonight, no one has ever done to me in a long time. It was so miniscule, I know, but it's more than I have ever experienced. For once, the kindness felt genuine. Is it wrong to think like that?" My eyes looked at Alex, desperate for reassurance.

"Absolutely not, (Y/N)." Alex shook his head. "From what you have told me, you have every right to feel the way you're feeling. Not gonna lie— your friends sound like dicks."

"They are dicks!" I laughed out, wiping the loose tears from my eyes. "And I am sick of being associated with them! From here on out, they are not my friends anymore." I turned my whole body to face Alex at this point, my sudden movement alerting his attention. "If you don't mind, can I count you, Karl— everyone else— as my new friends?"

The smile that emerged from Alex's face warmed my chest. "You don't need to ask, (Y/N)" He said, "We already counted you as our friend."

The happiness that swelled in my chest consumed me in that moment, and it stimulated me to enrobe Alex into a hug. His body was tense from my sudden touch, yet he relaxed easily into my body and his arms moulded into my touch. The fragrance clinging to his sweater engulfed my nose, making me nuzzle deeper into his shoulder. Alex chuckled and the vibrations tickled me, making me scoff out a laugh.

We met each other's gaze as we pulled away from the embrace; analysing the tint of blush on his cheeks, tracing to the bridge of his nose. He ruffled the hair on top of my head, making me laugh and nudge him playfully. Our instant smiles welcoming the space between us.

"So . . . got anymore tired yet?" Alex asked, raising a brow.

I shook my head and slowly looked around the room. Clocking the console lying on the coffee table, I grabbed it and my fingers began to awkwardly fumble with the joystick.

"First step of becoming friends, should be you teaching me how to be a pro-gamer." I joked, giving him a playful smirk.

He rolled his eyes, cringing as he grabbed the other remote. "It's not for the faint hearted," He joked along, "I think you'll get the hang of it, though."

For the rest of the night, into the early morning, we played games. We laughed our asses off, had mini arguments; stirring some of the others out of their slumber when Alex couldn't contain the volume of his voice.

Anything could happen, I realized. If I seek positivity, I will eventually find it. Thankfully, I was able to admit — I discovered it already.

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sanstropfremir · 3 years

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episode 9 baby!!! dear lord that was a lot!!

frankly, i'm still in shock that i full on manifested an opera stage, AND it was a rock opera stage at that! plus i got a jazz stage AND a taemin stage??? if they’re pulling out all my favourites now then what on earth are they gonna do in the finale??? this was a very overwhelming crop of stages, i thought i was going to be prepared, but oh no i was not prepared. i'm just going to get right into it because this one is gonna be long and i have many words. i'll discuss in airing order first, and then put my personal rankings for this round at the end.

btob

costume

changsub, you absolute king. spectacular. stunning. incredible. zoot suit riot playing in my brain on repeat. will i finally get the zoot suit revival of my fucking dreams instead of this current drab ill-fitting suit trend? for those who are wondering why in the fuck changsub is dressed like that and what on earth i’m talking about, the specific cut of suit that he’s wearing is called a zoot suit, which were popular in mexican, black and italian american communities in the 30s and 40s, until they were outlawed by the united states war production board as a fabric rationing method as part of the war effort in 1942. there was a huge amount of mob violence surrrounding the wearing of them (there were actual zoot suit riots) as they were direct counter culture fashion to the predominant drab trends of white americans at the time. i'm actually very impressed they got a proper (modernized) cut of zoot suit instead of just putting him in an oversized one; there are actually specific structural differences. the pegged trouser legs, large should pads, and knee length single breasted jacket are key features, and they were often in much more flashy fabrics than a pinstripe, but they get points for effort. i wish they had put all of them in zoot suits but he’s playing the ‘lead’ actor so i will begrudgingly forgive them.

eunkwang those are the stupidest sleeve garters ive ever seen i love them never take them off. they’re like someone decided to repurpose a suspender in the worst way. excellent. i do love that they’ve got three of them in oxford saddle shoes, another great touch.

love the three piece and the fedora* on peniel. it's also in a relatively close period cut; waistcoasts (vests) were generally cut much higher in the neck pre-war, we only start seeing the neckline slide down in the 60s (i think? i don’t remember when exactly). also love to see a proper sleeve and jacket length, it's good practice to have at least a finger’s width of sleeve cuff visible ahead of the jacket sleeve when hanging at rest. also looks like there’s french cuffs on everyone, which is also great.

minhyuk in his slutty lowneck shirt....thank you. in addition to the zoot suit revival i would also like a revival of those ultra low necklines on mens’ shirts from like 2010-2011. i don’t think those are the same boots from the backdoor stage but those are some beautifully cut boots. i also loved the little details of his crewmember look, especially the chunky watch and the string bracelets; those are super realistic, i know so many crew with them and i had several for many years. and who doesn’t love a visible button fly?

none of any of the other costumes are period in any way shape or form but i’m forgiving it because there’s several layers of meta in this stage, and they explicitly based it on la la land, even though we don’t respect la la land in this house. do i wish they had gone more strictly period with at least the jazz club ‘actors’ a little more? absolutely, but i'm not mad about it.

set

again we’ve got a good delineation of the two different ‘stages,’ there’s the club itself in the smaller stage and the soundstage set in the larger space. you can pretty clearly see all the ‘pieces’ of the set on the soundstage, especially the obvious set painting techniques on false prosc frame and the window facade from that first little scene. also the you can see the castors (wheels) on all the setpieces too, which is another nice little versimilitudinous** (triple word score!) touch, as old hollywood movies were made still using theatre stagecraft techniques.

i love how the visual shorthand for ‘this is a set wink wonk’ is just...leaving a ladder on stage. i see it all the time and it's so funny. it doesn’t always make sense because as soon as there’s actors on set the ladders are the first thing cleared because actors cannot be trusted, but yes there are always ladders, so. also psa ladder safety is no joke, please be careful on ladders.

nice streamline of the mnet deco into the club. i’m consistently surprised at how well the designers have been able to mask it or use it to their advantage, because in the normal kingdom stage lighting it is SO obvious and stylistic that it always sticks out.

i'm going to ignore the fact that they implied changsub and miyeon were drinking wine out of martini glasses.

lighting

no complaints, it does its job. everything is visible and super clear. love that the ‘scene’ changes are made through the lighting, it's a really simple and effective device to change atmosphere. purple/blue/amber are the most flattering colours on human skin and that’s why you see it so commonly in stage lighting. also blue/lavendar is the best way to show nighttime/moonlight.

really nice and subtle projection work, especially with the billboard bit and the blue moon sign in the club. despite being obviously meta/’world breaking’ it’s actually very seamless and fits well into the flow of the stage.

sound

i love love love the big band feel in the intro, combined with the piano lead. very duke ellington, as all things should be.

no complaints. i love big band. i love eunkwang’s voice. i have nothing else to say.

staging

i LOVE this movie within a movie within a performance meta nonsense! it's such a fun concept and it is exactly what i wanted ikon’s first round stage to be! i also love to see btob consistently coming up with concepts that are inventive and fun and allow them to showcase their technical performance skills without the aerobics the younger groups are putting themselves through. it provides a really lovely variety and it just goes to show that you can make impressive, dramatic stages without having to be serious or ‘dark.’

i do wish they had leaned into the band director/lead singer with eunkwang a bit more; this could have been a really excellent place for a tap number a la the nicholas brothers or an homage to cab calloway. i know i know this was meant to be la la land themed but la la land is a cheap and whitewashed version of jazz and look me right in the eyes and tell me this isn’t the greatest tap routine of all time. i know i’ve typed this out somewhere before but la la land is just a conglomeration of old hollywood tropes and so stylistically cheap that this would have such a better visual core if they had actually looked back at the real old hollywood musicals like stormy weather. even singing in the rain and an american in paris have such phenomenal visuals and are really beautiful examples of the scope you can pull off with a limited technical capacity and sticking to these old techniques.

now that i'm thinking about it, oh my GOD i would DIE for a lindy hop routine in kpop PLEASE. i know it would never happen because kpop doesn’t like partner dancing and not a single kpop boy has the chops but oh you think fourth gen has too many acrobatics?

this got off track but i think you see my point.

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ateez

costume

these are really sharply cut suits. and the detail work on the beading??? so beautiful. i'm disappointed that they gave me a rock opera stage without the true ridiculousness of rock opera costuming, because they could have pushed this a lot farther if they really wanted. a tragic lack of gay little outfits, seonghwa’s lace choker is just not enough! two favourite suits: hongjoong’s and yunho’s.

that being said i do actually really like these. this stage is actually very modern opera with a kpop twist and i'm a little surprised by that? i continue to be impressed by the ateez team who are clearly doing their research.

i'm absolutely not going back through their stages to check all the choreography but i wonder if you can track all the ‘wound’ placements to places they’ve been ‘hit.’ i wouldn’t put it past them to have put that thought in but also i’m not expecting that much either.

who is this white grim reaper bdsm executioner chain arm man. where did he come from. i have no idea and i love it.

why is honjoong blindfolded. it was such a fast beat, if youre gonna blindfold someone give it a little longer and some more obvious narrative weight!

seonghwa does that quickchange, runs across that massive stage to the smaller set, and gets into places in like 45 seconds. it's not the hardest quickchange in the world but still, under a minute is fast for any quickchange, especially when there’s travel time involved. i think the fastest, most complex quickchange i ever did was in university which was a 50s cocktail dress into a flannel and culottes with a shoe, hair, and jewelry change in 35 seconds. and that took three dressers. quickchanges are always impressive. the added bonus of this review being later is that i can specifically reference that you can see him book it the fuck off stage in the full cam!

cute moment with the backup dancers dressed in costumes from the previous stages. i'm assuming this is a time travel reference? i'll get more into my thoughts on this in the staging section. regardless, love to see that iconic seonghwa moment again.

set

this is such a restricted space! they really pared down their dancing space with those staircases and ....arms? honestly i have NO clue what these are supposed to be. the only thing i can maybe think of is flying buttresses??? but why?? i mean, i'm 90% sure theyre just there for drama and i agree but i do still have questions.

there’s a lot of moving parts in this set? the buttresses, and the upstage centre staircase. i don’t think the staircase is totally automated because i spotted some dancers securing it in place, but it’s still a moving part. i do really like that we get that expanding upwards energy, because it's really tough to get functional level movement in this kind of a performance, mostly because of its length and because it moves so quickly. so seeing the downward vertical movement and then the upward movement was actually a really nice visual contrast that made use of how tall those fucking ceilings are, and the fact that they had less horizontal space. in sort of similar way to sf9’s jealousy stage, using long, narrow vertical lines really makes it feel like a castle space. the interiors of castles, especially the really old ones, are a lot smaller than you think they would be.

i’ve actually seen that type of small house/tent/thing several times in various types of performances before, but i think this is the first time i’ve seen it used as a time travel device (other than in the say my name mv). aesthetically it's a bit incongruent but i dont really mind because i'm used to watching rock operas that look a lot weirder than this.

lighting

there is so much happening. i have NO clue what the projections are doing. i dont hate it though, so that’s a plus? there’s a clear-ish colour arc even if it does get a bit funky in the middle, which is why the projections dont feel as insanely distracting as some of the other stages we’ve seen.

the climax is a perfect example of how to light a busy stage with primarily red but still maintain clarity on the performers. a little bit of red goes a long way; the spark stage from last week would have looked so much better if they had done what the ateez designers did here.

sound

i know it's only ode to joy, but answer already gets my motor running and then i get so gassed by the guitars and then by the time those vocals come in i'm inconsolable. i don’t know why i wasn’t expecting a rock opera stage but i'm so glad i got that surprise because i genuinely love rock operas so much. it's two of the most dramatic genres in music, what more could you possibly want?

staging

the choreo for answer is so goofy that I'm kinda glad this was mostly terrible mnet boom shots. i love it, but you can't deny that it's goofy. i spotted a couple of moves from their other choreos as well?

choreographing dance fights is just as difficult as choreographing real fights and i think they did a fairly good job here. i think it was a solid mix of dance and conflict that erred on the side of dramatic rather than accurate and i prefer that over trying to be ‘realistic.’ i’ve only ever seen one truly realistic fight scene on stage and that was for a deeply naturalist play (boring and a waste of the medium), but the best fight scene i’ve ever seen was in the prague national ballet’s adaptation of kafka’s the trial where three ballet dancers beat the absolute snot out of the main character with the most beautiful leg extensions. that whole show was probably one of the best pieces of dance i’ve ever seen, holy fuck it was so good.

despite how insane the music and the visuals were going, i actually really liked how sedate this was, on the part of ateez’s performance. there was a really sophisticated and resigned energy from them that is very different from what we’ve previously seen and i think that was a pretty admirable risk to take. reaching the top and then throwing away the crown? especially in a competition where every other stage has involved stealing crowns or royalty and there’s a group competing that got here through that very concept? that shows a real maturity, peace of mind, and foresight that i did not at all expect from a bunch of 22 year olds.

here we come to a very interesting comparison. both ateez and tbz are very heavily leaning on previously established group lore. we all know my thoughts on why it isn’t working for tbz, but here’s why i think it is working for ateez: it's because it doesn’t matter to the audience’s understanding of the stage. i had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on the first time i watched this, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the music and all the weird shit they were doing. i totally believed that they understood what was going on. there’s a loose enough established conflict right at the beginning that draws us in, and really it doesn’t matter who they're fighting because they win in the end. the key here is that they’re so earnest. they believe 100% in every move they make on that stage. there’s no winks to camera, there’s not a drop of irony. they really deeply care about the ridiculousness of it all and that’s what makes it work. i sure as fuck dont know what’s going on, but i can see that they do, and i trust that. this is what i meant when i talked about convincing the audience you belong on stage in my stage presence post. i’ve never once believed that juyeon was anything other than an idol. he’s talented and very beautiful and he may occasionally stand on that stage like he owns it but it's always as juyeon. as an idol. but when hongjoong flaps around in that gigantic fur coat i 100% believe he’s a pirate captain. I believe he’s a punk rebel leader. i believe him a resigned king. there’s always a level of irony you have to fight as a performer because we all start from a place of disbelief. acting is not just lying to the audience, it's lying to yourself too. and if you succeed in convincing yourself? well, you’re already halfway to convincing us.

i checked it out because i wanted to see if they did the blindfold how i expected them to and was genuinely surprised by hongjoong’s fancam. the boy is EMOTING even when he knew the camera wasn’t on him; that’s a real dedication to craft.

ok i'm finished talking about this stage, this is over two pages in my document, there’s so many things i have not covered here but that’s fine, i'm quite sure any further thoughts will end up out there at some point.

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sf9

costume

let’s get it out of the way......crop top. crop top? crop top. crop top.

ok, besides the crop top, i think i might actually like the backup dancer outfits more...? i find mannequin adjacent looks really fascinating and i thought there was a lot more they could have done here in connecting the two thematically. i actually think a change of costume on the boys would have been very interesting, especially because there was a lot of inference and direct reference to changes of colour.

ALL the backup dancers are wearing the same wig and i LOVE that.

special mention zuho’s.....jacket? the right idea but it absolutely should have been one of those extreme french cut bodysuits, you COWARDS. don’t come at me with this ‘male version of venus’ if you don’t have your whole torso out! come on!

set

not sure if this is meant to be a department store, a factory, or a white cube gallery. honestly you could make the case that they’re all the same place anyways. more on this later.

i loved the movator and wish they had used it more! that sequence was so good and they could have done some more interesting repetition sequences to further highlight the ‘sameness’/the breaking of that sameness.

i feel like the set could have been used more as a whole? i would have loved to see some mannequin interactions with those boxes, because all they did was dump colour everywhere.

....why did they feel the need to include the rain bit? i know it's likely because it's in the mv and at the 2018 dream concert taemin does perform move in the rain, but with the standing still and the box walls with the words it just looks like a department store ad. which i...dont think is what they were intending?

lighting

nothing really to say here. it has a similar feel to the mayfly rap stage, which is fine because the lighting for that was good. i could tell what was going on all the time and that’s the most important part. notable standouts are the lips sequence, that's fun use of pop iconography and very effective, and the scanning lasers at the beginning.

the repeating sequence in the edm dance break is actually done pretty simply, it's just what happens when you point a camera that’s livestreaming to a monitor directly at that monitor. it's a very cool effect and it was neat to see it used intentionally, especially with the handheld leds.

actually i also really liked the lightbox tables, those were cool.

sound

the remix was fine for the most part, it was about what i expected it to sound like. i did however greatly dislike that unnecessary edm break in the middle. what was the point of that? it didn’t add anything to the overall sound or arc of the stage because it was SO out of place. there was no connective tissue around it.

oh i was also not a fan of the effect on zuho’s mic. no one else had a discernible vocal effect so it felt a little out of place. also for some reason his cadence and tone right at the end made me think of some of the voices that bo burnam uses for his vocal masque sketches/songs, especially repeat stuff, weirdly? took me right the fuck out of it. i listened to it again after i slept and i’m still getting it, so maybe i’m just going insane so best ignore this part.

staging

loved the mannequin tree, not a clue why it was there.

do actually think this is a successful cover because it does what i was hoping it would, which is take move completely out of the taemin context and put it into an entirely new one. however, i’m really struggling to figure out what exactly that new context is? and what theyre trying to say with it?

obviously they went for a ‘show your own colours/individuality’ vibe, like i said in the set section, where exactly is this supposed to be? from the start i get factory/mechanized environment, which is fine and grand because mannequins and making repetitive motions and products and all that, makes sense. but then there’s stacked shelving type units happening and curtains and that combined with the mannequins give me pretty big department store vibes, which is also fine, because that’s still a comment on commercialization and the mass production of product. but then we get to the movator and the repetitive movements of the dancers say pretty clearly factory, but the lighting and projections are very pop art referential, plus combining that with the white set, just makes me think of an art gallery. so now is this a comment on the commercialization and commidification of contemporary art? are they making a statement about being ‘real’ artists among the others who have lost the critical understanding of why pop art was even a thing in the first place? and then the rain bit at the end literally looks like a department store ad, so are they then making another statement that they still are that packaged product? maybe the episode has more clarity in it but i’m genuinely a bit baffled by what the underlying statement is here.

i suspect it is not as deep as i'm making it, but i did say that i was likely to be hyper critical of this stage AND i am a grad student, so here we are.

---

tbz

costume

ok of all the ‘fourth gen’ style costumes we’ve seen, i actually like these ones more than most. i'm not entirely clear on the theme but i'm assuming it's meant to be post apocalyptic, and i'll take that.

backup dancers in black!!! we’re beyond this!!!

this will be a running theme with this stage, but i’m disappointed these don’t have more depth.

set

compared to every other stage, the set here seems especially plain. there’s so little set dec that it's disappointing. i do like the movement of the pieces themselves combined with the blocking; that first slide underneath the arches was slick and i would have liked to have seen more of that.

yea ok the big snake was cool and also a fairly complex build, but the transitions around it were a bit awkward for my tastes. especially the turn around, why did they even show that at all? you have control over what the audience sees, you can totally not show scenic transitions. skz were super smart about hiding theirs in last week’s episode.

also if you have a bigass puppet like that, i wanna see some more movement from it! it doesn’t have to be complex, we literally just saw a kraken balloon arm wave around aimlessly, but at least there was movement! that snake had a long ass body, why didn’t they at least take a pseudo dragon dance movement with it, that would have been such fun to watch with the iridescent scales. there was a lot of opportunity here!

lighting

i don’t hate it but also.... not a lot to say about it on the whole.

there were two really smart ideas here, the first being the front projection section, which i was SO glad to see! i explained in a previous review, but the projections in kingdom are not actually projections per se, because they’re actually massive led screens. there are two common types of projections in performance, rear projection and front projection. rear projection is when the projector is behind the screen, and front projection is ‘normal’ projection. rear projection can produce a crisper image because you have full control of the light values, because the projector is in a separate room from the performance space. but the downsides are that the projector has to be in a separate room from the performance space. so if you’re short on real estate, it's not ideal. front projection is much more common, because the tech is a lot cheaper and easier to access, especially now, and it requires less real estate because you can ceiling mount about the audience (you can move a projector wherever, this is just the most common spot in commercial theatres). but! in order to get an actually crisp image, you have to be really careful with your light bounce. it’s exactly the same principle as how you kinda can't see a projected screen when you have all the lights turned on, but when you turn them off it's a lot clearer. front projection works best in pitch dark, so when you use it in a theatre you gotta be smart about it. i use front projection a lot in my personal art practice as a singular light source, and that’s what tbz did here in that traveling/snake intro sequence. it’s a really fun technique that they used as a good gimmick because it’s not something we’ve seen before, and you get some great shadow effects because the projector is throwing light directionally at the performers (they have it set up close to the floor, it’s probably on a wheeled cart of some kind). however i did not like the snake intro. a bit too cheesy and out of place, especially because the asset quality didn’t match the rest of landscapes that we have been seeing.

the second smart idea, which is partially also a set and blocking thing but whatever, was that final image of the eclipse within the circle architecture with all the members standing in front of it. it was a great shot and a great ending pose, but it felt like a concept photo. like someone had that image as the idea that they then built the stage around, instead of a narrative first and then imagery after.

sound

this remix had SO much promise! those first two minutes were SO GOOD. i love that dirty discordant strings bit, it's gross and right up my alley. but it really fell off in the back half and i'm sad about that.

staging

i'm sorry tbz but.....what did you actually do differently than exo here? with the exception of the continual game of thrones references? nothing here felt transcendentally different from the original monster. and especially coming RIGHT after sf9’s move, which did go beyond its original context. this feels more like an awards show stage cover than a stage at the level of the others we’ve seen just this episode.

again like with the skz stage, there’s no conflict here. no tension. yes they do a great job covering the dance but it just isn’t enough! this is obviously personal preference and i'm sure lots of people liked the fact that it was uncomplicated, but even just a hint of narrative tension could have pushed this into more engaging territory. and if they didn’t want to do that, i would have loved to see them make up for that with extra visual spectacle. this is the no limits round! ikon is putting a full jungle on stage and these are grey cubes!

i think this is a perfect example of what i talked about at the end of my tbz section in my episode four review; this is a good performance, there are good elements at play and good ideas at their genesis, but the core of the issue is that nothing about this is transformative. all of the ideas here are just exaggerations of the original song. fuck, the snake was even IN the mv! and they didn’t even include the best part which is the lip chains! ive said before and i'll say it again; being a good artist has two steps, the first is understanding the material and its context, and the second is elevating the material from that context and synthesizing something new. tbz are really good at the first step, but terrible at the second.

---

ranking

btob - the cleanest and the most fun of the round. everything i wanted.

sf9 - fun and a good cover, despite being conceptually baffling.

ateez - very extra dramatic nonsense with an unexpected dose of sincerity. and it’s rock opera, of course i love it.

skz - fun, with some good thematic devices but generally lacking in arc. also australian accents, that’s an automatic ding.

tbz - honestly the first two minutes of the remix and the costume are holding this above 6th. it just wasn’t fully formed.

ikon - aesthetically this is a great set design and although i do love the opening and closing moments, everything else scrapes me the wrong way. super personal preference here, i’m not expecting anyone else to agree with me.

i feel like my rankings were probably pretty easy to guess if you’ve been around reading the reviews for long enough. i do have very specific tastes after all. i know sf9 ranked first in the episode but i have no idea what the other slots are. i’ll find out when i watch the episode in a couple of days, but i think yea a first for sf9 is fair. i do think its mostly because it’s a taemin song and you have to do something horrendous in order to fuck up a taemin song, but there is a lot of thought and work that went into that stage.

ok i'm done now, sorry this was later than usual, but i was busier and there were four stages that i had to review. also technical difficulties because tumblr is a garbage platform and nothing works properly. comments/questions/opinions always welcome, i know i didn't expand on a couple of points that i could have so hopefully y'all have some thoughts too!

* the type of hat that ~society~ has told you is a fedora is actually a trilby. what peniel is wearing is a real fedora, i felt the need to correct this unjust hat malignment.

** meaning ‘the appearance of being true or real.’ you do sometimes hear it used by normal people, but it’s more commonly used as a descriptor in film and theatre. it’s also one of the five rules of neoclassical theatre, which are: versimilitude, purity of form, five act structure, decorum, and purpose. the most prominent playwrights from that era are moliere and racine if youre interested in what those look like in an actual text.

#kingdom #kingdom review #btob #ateez #stray kids #the boyz #sf9 #tumblr is so broken it would NOT let me save this as a draft #does my constant hyperlinking make you angry tumblr? too bad im gonna keep doing it #i played in a jazz band in school for seven years #which is another indicator as to why i am like this #one of the first songs i remember learning was zoot suit riot #i have very strong memories of yelling RIOT during performances #i will however forever question the logic of our band teacher making us learn a song written by 'the cherry poppin daddies'#christ on a bicycle this is TEN pages #and it took a full eight hours last night and then i did like two hours of editing after i woke up #maybe i should go back to bed #ah i forgot to tag ikon again lmao #ikon #kpop analysis #text #if there are any spelling errrors do not tell me im tired of reading this #im pretty sure this is my longest review so far i decided to hate myself and did a wordcount #its 5.2K you're welcome you better get a snack for this one #i hope this is an interesting read for people ive lost all objectivity at this point #pls enjoy my semi-comprehensible word vomit!

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giveemhales · 4 years

Text

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 10/?

For @averystereksummer Day 6

AU where Stiles has a fear of storms

For the prompt: “How’s the weather?”

With a ficlet! Content warning for anxiety and panic attacks.

Stiles was afraid of storms.

Maybe that’s putting it wrong, because there’s a lot of things Stiles was afraid of that he could deal with. Really, he had a fear of storms, “astraphobia.” He hated it.

He wished he could say there was a reason. That his mother died on a stormy night or that the thunder reminds him of gun shots.

But there was no rhyme or reason. It was nothing more than a phobia, an anxiety disorder, an evolutionary flaw.

He’s always been good at hiding it, though. When he was younger, he hid it because he was made fun enough as is, he didn’t want to give any other material for his bullies to work with. Not even Scott ever figured it out. He could usually handle rain, but when there was thunder, he’d always make an excuses to go home, whether he was at school or on a sleepover. He’d usually say he was sick, and his mother was understanding enough that she’d be willing to take him home. She would build them a blanket fort and put on way too loud cartoons to help drown out the noise. Sometimes she would hold him closely, and remind him the thunder couldn’t hurt him, and that she would always protect him.

Then his mother died, and his fear got worse. It wasn’t just that storms were harder to handle without his mother, it was also the way his mental health had deteriorated after her death. His anxiety was significantly worse, and things that once scared him would now trigger full blown panic attacks.

His father got him a therapist to help him, but the therapist was mostly focused on his grief and how to handle his panic attacks. He had coping mechanisms now, but he still tried to avoid being out when there was a storm at all cost. Avoidance wasn’t necessarily healthy, but it was what worked for him. He continued to claim illness, and would curl up under the covers, blasting music through his earbuds.

He had even managed to hide this fear from the pack, which he’d say was pretty impressive considering most of the members could quite literally smell fear.

He religiously checked the weather every day, using multiple sources for the daily and weekly forecasts. If there was a forecast for a thunderstorm at any point, he’d make up plans (which was difficult when dealing with people who can hear when you’re lying, but he had perfected the art of half truths, always using something like “having homework” or “wanting to see his dad,” which were all technically true). So far, he’d only been outside in a thunder storm with the pack once, and they were fighting wendigos so they didn’t really question his scent of fear or him running off to his Jeep as soon as the creatures were declared dead. That was one of the few times in his life he had been unable to avoid being outside during a thunderstorm, and the resulting panic attack had been so bad he hadn’t been able to go to the school the next day (which was easy enough to get away with, since the rain had also resulted in a cold).

He’s not really sure why he spends so much time and energy hiding this fear like it’s a dirty secret. Maybe part of it was that he knew he couldn’t avoid thunderstorms, but he could try to avoid being around people during thunderstorms. It gave him something to focus on, a feeling of control.

Honestly though, he knew it was mostly his own insecurities. He was at a good place with the pack, and he doesn’t really think any of them would be malicious if they were to find out. But he knew that he was just human, that he was weaker than the rest of them, and he strived everyday to prove he could keep up. He couldn’t show any weaknesses because he couldn’t let them know he was weak.

So he had basically perfected the art of keeping his phobia hidden away from the rest of the world.

But one of the worst things about storms was that you don’t always know when they’re coming. And that’s what led to his current predicament.

He was in the car with Derek after they had met with a pack outside of town. The pack was new to the area and hoping to make an alliance. With Derek the alpha and Stiles the emissary, it was customary for the two of them to make negotiations.

The meeting had been fine. A simple agreement had been made and then Derek and Stiles made the hour long drive back to Beacon Hills, specifically to Derek’s loft where Stiles’ Jeep was waiting.

Derek had insisted that they drive together, and had refused to go in Stiles’ “death trap” (more like because he was a dick), so Stiles was now seated in the passenger side of the camaro. And that was fine, Stiles honestly enjoyed spending time with Derek. But it was about half an hour outside of Beacon Hills that he noticed the grey clouds.

Stiles had checked multiple weather sources that morning like he always did, and none of them had mentioned a chance of storms. A couple had mentioned a chance of rain that night, but it was still afternoon. There was no reason to expect a risk of storms.

But Stiles had obsessively studied storms enough to know what storm clouds looked like. And right now there were definitely storm clouds in the direction of Beacon Hills.

Fuck.

“How’s the weather? I mean, do you know? I feel like with your special werewolf senses you should be able to tell. You know, smell when a storm is coming. That would actually be pretty cool, it would make you a great meteorologist. Although meteorologists aren’t as bad as people make them seem. They actually have a 90% accuracy five days in advance. And on the actual day are usually within 2.5 degrees in their predictions. That’s pretty impressive. But obviously they don’t always get it right. Clearly, since they hadn’t said there would be rain today and-“

“Stiles!” Derek barked, cutting him off. “No, I can’t “sense” the weather. But from those clouds over there I’d say it’s probably going to rain.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Looks like it. That’s cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.”

Derek side-eyed him, but at this point he was used to Derek’s seemingly constant annoyance with him.

His leg began bouncing, as it usually did when he was nervous. Derek was clearly annoyed, but fortunately didn’t say anything.

A couple minutes later, the drizzle began, and Derek turned on the windshield wiper. Stiles looked down at his phone which had the directions. Still 20 minutes to go. He desperately hoped that they would get back before any thunder started, but it seemed unlikely.

Stiles leaned over and began fiddling with the radio. He eventually found a station playing heavy metal, and turned it up as loud as it would go, hoping it would be enough should there be any thunder.

Derek cursed and immediately shut off the radio. “What the fuck is your problem, did you forget about the werewolf hearing?” He grumbled, pawing at his ears with one hand still on the wheel.

“Just wanted some music, you’re so quiet, you know. Thought we could liven things up.”

Derek just growled in reply, which was pretty par for the course for him, so Stiles didn’t bother saying anything else.

Pretty soon, the rain started getting heavier, pouring down loudly on the windshield. Derek increased the speed of the windshield wiper, but seemed unbothered.

Stiles opened his mouth before closing it again. He honestly wanted to just explain to Derek why he was being so weird. Derek wasn’t the type to judge, and would probably even do what he could to be accommodating.

But at the same time, he couldn’t think of worse person to find out about his fear. Besides the fact that Derek was one of the strongest, bravest people he had ever met, Stiles had also been pining after him for years. He knew Derek had seen him as the hyperactive, token human, and even if Stiles now had a spark and Derek had accepted him as the pack’s emissary, Stiles didn’t want to risk revealing anything that might ruin their progress. He knew Derek would never feel the same about him as he did, and he was okay with that, but he was absolutely not okay with Derek ever viewing him as lesser. He wouldn’t, couldn’t be seen as weak.

So Stiles kept his mouth shut, and tried to just focus on anything other than the impending storm.

That worked out until the thunder came.

The first roll of thunder hit when they were about 10 minutes from the loft, and Stiles’ composure began to crumble.

He felt his heart beat quicken, his palms sweat, his breath become raggedy and stomach begin to cramp. These were standard symptoms for his anxiety, but not something he ever truly got used to.

He tried to focus on his breathing, but was interrupted by Derek.

“What’s wrong? Your heart is pounding and your breathing sounds weird,” Derek said, the concern clear in his voice. Stiles supposed that after all the terrifying shit he had been through, it would make sense that Derek wouldn’t make the connection between his fear and the thunder.

Stiles clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to block everything out. “Nothing. I’m fine, dude,” he ground out.

He could practically hear Derek rolling his eyes, but for once he ignored the “dude” comment. “You’re clearly not fine, I can smell the anxiety rolling off you. If you’re in danger or if something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“I said I’m fine. Just drop it,” Stiles knew Derek would be able to hear the lie, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was focusing too much energy on trying to calm down to come up with a plausible lie for why he was acting the way he was.

“Please, Stiles, I just want to help you,” Derek’s voice was softer than Stiles had ever heard, and he hated the way it made his eyes tear up. He turned and rested his forehead on the window, trying to focus on the cool feeling.

Stiles was surprised Derek didn’t pry further, but instead grabbed his hand.

Stiles thought about the fact that his palms were sweaty and probably pretty gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. It wasn’t even because he had been dreaming of holding Derek’s hand for years. It was because it helped ground him.

He tried to focus on touch so he could block out the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder. He tried to think about the warmth of Derek’s hand, and his mother’s voice when she reminded him the storms couldn’t hurt him. He counted his breaths, and reminded himself they were only a few minutes away. And as soon as they were back, he could get in his Jeep, blast his music, and try to ignore the outside world.

They arrived to the loft, and Stiles vaulted out of the Camaro before it was even in park (although a small part of him was reluctant to let go of Derek’s hand).

He ran as fast as he could to the Jeep to try to avoid the worst of the storm. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to make it to the Jeep before he was being grabbed by Derek (honestly, fuck werewolf speed, that’s just not fair).

“Stiles, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t just let you leave if you’re in danger!”

One of the symptoms of anxiety that is less talked about is that heightened anxiety makes a person prone to emotional outbreaks. Maybe that’s why he lost it at that moment. Or maybe it had been building up for years, the anger and shame and fear finally boiling over. Or maybe he just wanted somebody to know, because he was so tired of being alone.

Whatever the reason was, Stiles finally let it all out.

“Oh my god, I’m not in danger. Nothing is going to happen to me and I logically know that but I can’t help it. I’m terrified of storms. Is that what you wanted me to say?” Stiles was yelling, even though he was sure Derek could hear him perfectly well, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m terrified of how loud the thunder is, how I can barely hear myself think over the noise. I’m terrified of lightning even though the likelihood of being struck is one in a million. I’m terrified that I can’t always prepare for storms and that I have no way to control the weather. And I know it’s a fucking stupid fear. And that’s why I’ve tried so hard to hide it. But I feel like I can’t breathe. And you probably don’t know what that’s like, you probably don’t have stupid fears and constant anxiety because you’re the bravest person I know. But you know now so please just drop it.”

Stiles was panting by the end of his rant. He wanted to turn around, to go to his car, just like he said he wanted, but the masochist in him needed to see how Derek was going to react.

“Do you really think I’ll judge you for that? You think I don’t feel afraid? I’m scared every day. I’m afraid I’m going to fail as an alpha. I’m afraid I’m going to lose everything again. Hell, I’m afraid every second I’m around you.”

“What? Why would you be afraid around me?” Stiles asked incredulously, fairly certain Derek was just making it up to make him feel better.

“Because I’m afraid I’m finally going to break and kiss you.”

Stiles isn’t sure what Derek saw in Stiles’ slack-jawed expression, but evidently it was an invitation, because the next thing Stiles knew, there were lips on his own.

Derek’s were wet from the rain, but still warm. The kiss was soft and tender, and everything Stiles had ever wanted.

Unfortunately, it was still storming, and Stiles jumped back just a moment later when there was a roar of thunder and crack of lightning.

Derek looked stricken, clearly drawing the wrong conclusion.

Stiles was quick to correct him. “As amazing as that kiss was, I can’t- I need to be alone right now.”

Derek looked relieved, and reached out to Stiles. “Do you- You’re welcome in the loft if you’d prefer.”

Stiles usually preferred to be alone during storms so no one could see his vulnerability, but the Jeep was also usually his last resort. The loft would be much quieter, so he nodded and took Derek’s hand.

Up in the loft, Derek grabbed Stiles a towel to dry himself since he was dripping everywhere. After he dried off, he went ahead and wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up on the couch. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV? Noise helps.” He was still shaking, but felt himself calming down. Hopefully if he put on the TV, he could try to forget about the storm.

Derek nodded and then paused. “I can leave if you’d like but if it would help... Would you mind if I just held you?”

After years of keeping his fears private, Stiles’ instinct was to ask him to leave. But he remembered how he would feel when his mom would hold him during storms. He remembered how his fears had quietened when Derek had kissed him. He remembered all the reasons he fell in love with Derek, and how safe he made him feel.

He nodded.

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lasting-inkpressions · 3 years

Text

Burning Up [2/4]

Summary: When she applied to be the secretary for managing partner Rosé McCorkell, Denali hadn't expected to end up working for the biggest pain in her ass, nor did she expect anything beyond a professional relationship.

Word Count: 4.1k

Prefer reading it on AO3?

It was raining heavily, the kind of rain that would drench you if you stepped out for just a second. Denali sighed as she stared out the office window, cursing herself for forgetting her umbrella at home. The weather app had warned her of the impending rain, but she’d forgotten as soon as she got a message from Rosé requesting that their morning meeting be pushed up, and so she had to rush out the house earlier than usual.

She supposed she could call an Uber, but was hesitant about spending the money. Sure Denali could afford it now with how much she made, but it was still nice knowing that she didn’t spend the extra money on that and instead saved it towards those new skates that she had been eyeing.

Collapsing into her chair, she swivelled around in it, noticing for the first time how deserted the office floor was. Checking her watch, her eyes bugged out at how late it was.

It was already well past 9pm.

Groaning, she slumped over her desk, knocking her head against it, finally feeling how exhausted she really was.

It had been a long week, and there had been a few big cases recently, meaning that there was a lot more paper work than usual. The paralegals had been running around helping out the various partners in the firm, and the managing partners themselves seemed a little bit more pressured than usual.

She remembered seeing Jan running back and forth between Lagoona and Rosé’s offices, followed by a trail of interns carrying various stacks and boxes of files. Lagoona had been the opposite, calm and collected through it all, reassuring and being a mentor to anyone who needed it on top of handling her own case load.

Rosé on the other hand had been a little on edge, as if she was the middle ground between the other managing partners, being neither frantic nor calm. She had been more restrained and quiet this week, retreating into her mind as she absorbed all the information she needed so she could plan out her courtroom strategies. Every time Denali had her morning meetings with her, or whenever she entered her office, it had been nothing but business, with almost no teasing from Rosé. At first, Denali had felt a little weirded out, then relieved at finally getting the peace and quiet she had always wanted. By the end of the week though, the blonde couldn’t help but miss their little interactions. She had actually gotten used to the banter that the two of them shared.

Burrowing her face into her arms, she pouted, thinking about how long she would have to wait for the rain to subside when she felt someone gently stroking the back of her head. Startled by the sudden touch, she looked up to find Rosé standing over her, a light frown on her face.

“Denali, what are you still doing here?”

Denali blinked, surprised that Rosé was still in the office. “Miss McCorkell! Aren’t you supposed to be at dinner with a client?” Rosé chuckled, settling herself at the edge of Denali’s desk. “Ever the diligent little secretary, aren’t you? It ended early, and I forgot something in the office. Also, you never answered my question, angel.”

And she was back with the nicknames again.

“I completed the weekly summary report not too long ago, so now I’m just waiting out the rain.”

“At this hour?”

Denali shrugged. “Catching an Uber now isn’t very economical.” Though she probably would have to give up at some point if the rain didn’t let up soon.

Rosé raised a brow. “And no plans on a Friday night? No hot date?” The younger girl couldn’t help letting out a snort before shaking her head in response. Who had time for dates when your job took up so much of your time? Rosé hummed, face carefully blank, then looked out the window at the rain. There were several beats of silence, causing Denali to squirm a little in her seat. She couldn’t tell what the other woman was thinking, and she couldn’t help but notice how close their hands were to each other, their pinkies almost touching. She quietly shifted her hands into her lap when her stomach let out a grumble, causing her to freeze and flush in embarrassment.

She probably should have eaten more than that panini for lunch.

“I’m guessing you didn’t have time for dinner again?” Denali’s brows shot up in surprise. She hadn’t expected Rosé to have noticed seeing as the older woman had been so busy herself. Rosé laughed at the expression on her face, lightly tugging at Denali’s ponytail in amusement.

“Don’t look so surprised! Of course I would have noticed that my secretary hasn’t been eating regularly for the past week.” Rosé slid off the desk and bent down to pick up both her bag and Denali’s. Smiling down at the blonde, she cocked her head towards the elevator.

“Come on baby, let’s get you some food, and then I’ll drive you home.”

Before she could even protest, Rosé had already started walking towards the lift lobby. Denali stared after the redhead, stunned for a moment before scrambling to follow her, trying to ignore how her heart was thumping just a tiny bit faster.

———

Rosé had practically herded the other girl into her car and, despite Denali’s initial protests, driven them both to a diner that was not too far from the office. There weren’t a lot of places that were still open at that hour, but The Goode Place was always open 24/7.

Careful to ensure that the both of them stayed dry, the older woman had parked her car as close to the entrance of the diner as possible and made Denali stay put while she walked over to her side with a large umbrella to shield them from the rain. Opening the door, Rosé had tugged Denali to her side, arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and had hip checked the door shut with a click, making sure that it was locked. All the while, Denali had been trying to control the blood rushing to her cheeks and her racing heart, telling herself that Rosé was just trying to make sure that the both of them stayed dry, or at least as dry as possible.

When they’d entered the diner, Rosé had let go of Denali, and the blonde quickly took a step away while the older woman shook out the umbrella and set it with the other wet ones at the entrance. Denali looked around at the interior of the diner, a little in awe at how the place looked. She had always noticed it in passing, but had never thought to set foot in it before, and now she wish she had done so sooner.

The place looked bright and colourful with a mix of retro and modern touches. There were vintage looking posters on the walls featuring old school pin up girl illustrations, bright neon lights spelling out cliched words, signed framed vinyls, eccentric decorations like flowers and vines, and the odd set of crystals with bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. A juke box stood in the corner playing music from the 90’s, and the floors and walls were tiled in red, white, pink and blue colours.

Denali had been so enraptured by her surroundings that she hadn’t noticed how Rosé was staring at her with a small smile on her face. The older woman gently placed her hand on the small of Denali’s back and guided her to a nearby booth, and it was only then did Denali remember that she wasn’t alone, that she was there with her boss. After sitting in the booth, Rosé waved over a pretty girl with electric blue curls that was at the counter, whose face lit up in recognition and immediately bounced over with a pair of menus in hand.

“Hey there Rosé! I see you’ve brought some company this evening.” Rosé smiled back at the girl, leaning towards her and winking. “That I did, baby. Do I get a discount for bringing a new patron to this fine establishment?” The girl giggled, swatting Rosé in the arm with the menus. “Nice try, Miss Rich Bitch. Try again next time when you finally have a ring on your finger, and I’ll think about it.” Turning to Denali, the girl flashed a brilliant smile. “Nice to meet you girl, the name’s Crystal.” Denali smiled back, already taking a liking to her. “Nice to meet you! I’m Denali.”

Crystal’s brows shot up. “Denali? As in the pretty blonde secretary that Rosé is- OW!”

“Yes, she’s my secretary. And unless you want to lose the generous tip I usually give, I suggest you move on to what tonight’s specials are.”

Crystal pouted, rubbing the shin that Rosé had kicked into. “Alright, rude much.” She rattled off the specials for the night, took down their drink orders and left the two to decide what food to order. Denali opened up the menu, perusing it silently, trying not to think too much into how Crystal knew that she was Rosé’s secretary. Rosé tapped her finger on the table, already knowing what she wanted as Denali tried to decide what to eat. When Crystal came back with their drinks, they placed their food orders and then sat at the table in silence.

It felt a little awkward to Denali, being out in a public setting with her boss outside of their work hours, and having supper together at that. She wasn’t really sure how to act with the woman who signed her pay check every month combined with the fact that only up until recently, she had been harbouring nothing but frustration and a dislike towards. It was odd.

As if sensing the other girl’s inner thoughts, Rosé knocked their knees together. “What’s going on in that pretty blonde head of yours?”

Denali shrugged, playing with the straw of her drink. “It’s nothing.”

“Really? Nothing? Now why do I not believe you when you say that.”

Denali laughed under her breath, and chose to take a sip of her milkshake instead of replying her. Her eyes widened once the cold drink hit her tastebuds and she pulled away. “Oh my god, this is so good!” Rosé beamed. “Isn’t it? I discovered this place when I was still a paralegal a few years back. I haven’t been able find another place that makes as good a milkshake as this.”

Nodding in agreement, Denali happily drank more of her milkshake, oblivious to the fond smile Rosé gave her when the blonde finally relaxed.

It wasn’t too long until their food arrived, and they both ate in a more comfortable silence. In between bites, Rosé would ask Denali little questions, easy and non-intrusive ones, mindful of the fact that Denali still wasn’t entirely comfortable in her presence. It didn’t last too long though as Denali loosened up a little more, and was soon also contributing more to the conversation with her own questions. When both plates were empty and glasses drained, Rosé moved to pay for the bill, despite Denali trying to pay for her own food. Crystal had rolled her eyes at the two of them and had immediately taken Rosé’s card, ignoring Denali’s.

“Doll, if a rich woman offers to pay, just let her.” Denali pouted at Crystal and pocketed her card, ignoring the chuckles coming from Rosé. “She’s right, baby. Just listen to her.”

The blonde rolled her eyes at that, and the two of them departed, with Crystal blowing them a kiss goodbye. Thankfully, it had stopped raining and by the time they had reached Denali’s apartment, and it was a few minutes shy of midnight.

“Would you look at that? Looks like your chariot won’t turn into a pumpkin after all, Cinderella.”

Denali snorted at Rosé’s comment, biting her tongue when she instinctively wanted to make a remark, and instead smiled.

“Thank you for supper and bringing me home, I really appreciate it.”

Rosé brushed it off with a shrug. “It’s no big deal. You were working late because of me anyway, so it’s the least I could do.”

“Well, not a lot of bosses would think that way, so thank you again, Miss McCorkell.

Rosé pouted, leaning against the wheel of her car as she looked at Denali. “Oh come on Nali, after all these months together and me introducing you to New York’s finest milkshake, and you still won’t call me by my name?” Being tired from the long day and no longer as mindful of her own behaviour as she usually was, Denali couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh while unbuckling her seatbelt. She opened the door and paused for a moment, as if carefully contemplating something, before turning to look at Rosé, a playful glint in her eye.

“Good night, Rosé.”

Rosé’s mouth fell open when Denali said her name, but before the older woman could react, the blonde had shut the door and retreated to her apartment.

That night, Denali dreamed of milkshakes, jukeboxes and pink roses.

———

It was Monday morning when Denali knocked on the managing partner’s office door and let herself in, her trusty leather folio and Rosé’s usual cup of coffee in hand. She set the coffee down in its usual spot as Rosé carried on typing away at her keyboard.

“Good morning, Miss McCorkell.”

Rosé stopped typing and looked up from her laptop, a pout on her lips.

“What happened to Rosé?”

Ignoring her question with an almost affectionate roll of her eyes, Denali extracted an envelope from her folio and slid it over the desk towards Rosé. “This invitation for you was just delivered this morning.” The managing partner took one look at it and recognised the emblem. “Ah, it’s the invite for that benefit Lagoona mentioned earlier.” Deftly opening it with her fingers, she pulled out the invitation card and scanned its contents while Denali sat down in the chair opposite her, opening her folio and clicking her pen.

“I’m assuming that you will need a plus one for the benefit. Would you like me to contact Miss Sin again?”

“No need. Did you manage to get a hot date for next Friday?”

Denali raised a brow, unsure of why Rosé was asking her that. “..no?”

“Good, then you can be mine at the benefit.”

Denali had to pause for a moment, unsure about whether she heard Rosé correctly. She couldn’t have just asked Denali to be her plus one, right?

“I’m sorry, Miss McCorkell, did you just ask me to be your plus one for the benefit?” Rosé chuckled as she closed the lid of her laptop and folded her hands, a mischievous look in her eye.

“Well, I wasn’t really asking, more like I was ordering you to be my plus one.”

Denali laughed under her breath. “Of course you were.”

“What was that?”

“I said that I can’t.”

Rosé frowned, not liking her answer. “And why not? You already said that you didn’t have a hot date, and I’m assuming no other plans either.”

Well if Denali had known that Rosé was going to ask her to be her plus one, she probably would have made one up on the spot. Knowing that she was waiting for an answer, Denali wracked her brain for a quick excuse.

“..I don’t have anything to wear.”

She was an idiot.

“That’s it?”

“Also, I don’t think that it’s very appropriate for me to be your plus one when I’m your secretary.”

Rosé waved off her concern. “It’ll be fine and besides, who cares?” Denali pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling an incoming headache. “Miss McCorkell, with all due respect, I do. And again, even if I didn’t, I don’t have anything appropriate to wear for the benefit.” The redhead frowned. Denali saw that Rosé was about to argue back and quickly cut her off.

“Now, on your schedule for today…”

Rosé frowned at being stopped, but kept quiet, hands clasped as she listened to Denali, though not as intently as she normally would.

Just because she was quiet , it didn’t mean that she had accepted Denali’s rejection.

———

Heels clicking on the asphalt, Denali walked along the sidewalk and towards the boutique she had been asked to go to pick up Rosé’s new custom suit for the benefit on Friday.

It had been funny and entertaining how the days leading up to the benefit, the older woman had been constantly and relentlessly pestering Denali about being her plus one. Every single morning Rosé would ask, and every single morning Denali would say no. Sometimes the blonde would go off for an errand or two, and come back to a post it stuck on her desk asking her, and each time she would sneak the post it back onto Rosé’s desk with no as the reply. There were even attempts to bribe her with boxes of donuts, cupcakes and macarons delivered to her table, and still she said no.

Kandy had been amused at the whole situation and had asked Denali if this was their weird version of foreplay, which had earned her a well placed eraser to the forehead.

Honestly, Denali wasn’t really sure why Rosé was so determined to bring her to the benefit as her plus one. If she had needed her secretary at her side at a professional capacity, Denali would have gone for sure, but from the sounds of it and the way Rosé was asking her, it didn’t feel like it. A small, insecure part of Denali felt a little scared that the redhead was just teasing her and leading her on, which was one of the main reasons why she kept rejecting her. Denali didn’t want to just end up being another conquest for Rosé.

Not that she was looking for anything more than a professional relationship anyways.

Pushing the glass door open and sighing in relief when she felt the cool air on her skin, Denali stopped in her tracks when she saw Rosé sitting on the settee in the middle of the boutique, eyes glued to her phone.

“Miss McCorkell? What are you doing here? I thought you had a personal appointment this afternoon.”

Rosé looked up from her phone and stood up, pocketing it. “I do.” Confused, Denali furrowed her brows. “Then why are you here? Did I make a mistake about picking up your suit for you?”

“Oh no, that’s correct. You’re here to pick up my suit for me, and I’m here too pick a dress for you.”

Denali stared at Rosé’s smug face, her mind slowly processing what other woman had just said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rosé chuckled at Denali’s expression just as a beautiful blonde woman emerged from another part of the boutique. “Rosé, the dresses that you selected are ready.” Clapping her hands, Rosé grinned at the French woman. “Excellent, thank you Nicky. Just like your name, you are an absolute doll.”

Pulling Denali over by the hand, she introduced her to the other blonde. “Nicky, this lady here is Denali, my plus one for the benefit.”

Shaken out of her stupor, Denali protested. “Wait a minute, I never agreed to be your plus one.” Rosé scoffed and looked down at Denali. “Well, the only reason you gave me for saying no was because you have nothing to wear. Now that we’re here, Nicky is going to help remedy that little problem, isn’t that right doll?” Rosé winked at Nicky. The French woman laughed, amused. “Indeed, come this way mes amours.”

Nicky led them to one of the adjoining rooms in the boutiques where there was a rack of dresses set up next to a curtained off fitting area. Rosé walked over to the rack and thumbed through the fabrics, pulling out a red dress.

“Let’s start with this one.”

What felt like hours later, Denali was tired out from trying on countless dresses, despite how hard she had tried to argue her way out of it. Both Nicky and Rosé had pointedly ignored her objections and kept pushing her back into the fitting room with a new dress to try on. With each dress she tried, Denali had noticed the price going higher and higher, with the number of digits and zeros increasing. She could probably sell one of the dresses off and have her rent taken care of for at least a year or two with the exorbitant price of each piece. She didn’t even want to think about how she’d be able to afford any of them, let alone for just one stupid night of dancing with rich snobs.

Finally, when it felt like she was about to reach her limit, Nicky had passed her a dress, assuring her that this was the one. Denali had sighed and taken it from her, drawing the curtains closed. Unzipping the blue one she had on and taking it off, she took the dress that Nicky had passed to her and finally looked at it. On the hanger, it looked like it would be a stunning floor length white strapless number, but would it be the case when it was on her?

Carefully unzipping it and taking it off the hanger, Denali stepped into it and slipped it on, frowning for a split second when she realised that she would have trouble zipping the dress up on her own. She tried to do it a number of times, but soon huffed in annoyance.

“Is anything the matter, mon cheri?”

“I’m just having some trouble zipping up. Do you think I could get some help?”

There were some quiet murmurs from outside, then the sound of the curtains opening and closing. Feeling fingers on her back, Denali brushed her hair to the side and held the dress to her chest as the the hands on her back pulled the zipper up, fingertips grazing the bare skin of her back as they did, causing her to shiver. Feeling the tug of the zip reaching the end, Denali stilled when she thought she felt lips ghost the back of her neck. Blinking in a daze, she turned around to find heated hazel eyes watching her.

Rosé was looking her over, eyes going down her body as she took in Denali’s form and how the dress looked on her before going back to her face, taking in how the blonde had a soft blush on her cheeks. Gently turning her to face the mirror, Rosé slowly tugged Denali’s hair loose from her high ponytail, letting her long blonde hair fall about her. Carefully arranging her hair to one side and tucking away an errant strand, Rosé smiled softly as they both looked at Denali’s reflection.

The dress was breathtaking on Denali, the white fabric contrasting beautifully against her tan skin. The sweetheart neckline showed off her collarbones, and the way the bodice of the dress hugged her body flattered her figure. There was a slit that stopped mid thigh that would flash her toned legs every time she took a step, further emphasised by the subtle pearl sheen. It was as if the dress was tailored just for Denali.

“Beautiful.”

Denali tore her gaze away from the reflection of the dress to Rosé’s face and felt her legs almost give way at the hungry look that was in her eyes. It looked as if the older woman wanted to swallow her whole with how close she stood to Denali, her fingers loosely curled around Denali’s wrists. She hadn’t even realised that Rosé had been touching her.

The blonde looked away after a while, not being able to stand being trapped in the heat of Rosé’s gaze any longer.

“Yes, the dress is indeed beautiful, Miss McCorkell.”

The fingers around her wrists tightened, and Denali felt a chin rest on her bare shoulder, causing her to gasp.

“I meant you, Denali. You’re beautiful.”

The air between them felt electric, and Denali was afraid to make a move, unsure about whether she wanted to break this bubble, this moment between them. As if reading her mind, Rosé’s eyes met hers in the mirror before she stepped away. Taking her by the hand, she led Denali out of the fitting room and back to the larger one. Nicky was nowhere to be seen and in her place was a small table with an assortment of jewellery laid out. Humming, Rosé examined the precious stones laid out before them, all the while rubbing slow circles onto the back of Denali’s hand, and selected a thin gold necklace with an intricate floral pendant of twisting vines and small inlaid gems. Turning the younger woman around, she fastened the necklace around Denali’s neck, all the while Rosé’s fingers were purposely grazing her skin.

Turning Denali back around to face her, Rosé smiled, a finger gently tracing the curve of Denali’s cheek.

“Perfect.”

———

I've lightly sprinkled in hints of sugar mommy Rosé in there. Very minor though because let's be honest, do you think Denali would be able to just sit still and look pretty? Yeah, no.

I might have ideas of setting up a verse of sorts to have little side stories which might even feature Crystal and Gigi because I think it'd be so cute and fluffy to have little Crygi moments of them running the diner together, but who knows.

#rosenali #rosénali #rosnali #rpdr fic #burning up fic #work wives verse #inkpression writes

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rebelwith0utacause · 4 years

Text

La Petite Mort

I started writing this a month ago, got stuck on 300 words and thought I might never finish it. Here we are, beginning of June, and it’s finally done, all 3.4K of it.

Warnings: Don’t read it if you’re underage, can’t handle smut and bad writing or if you’re Michael Clifford.

I got the idea listening to A Little Death by The Neighbourhood one day. Go check out the song if you haven’t already. It’s one of my faves.

You can also find it on ao3. Let me know what you think. and please don’t let it flop.

It was supposed to be a quiet affair, a way to get rid of their demons, to let them fly for the night. They were no strangers to it, the taboo and the darker side of their passion meant that they had to hide in the shadows. It was easier in a way, shadows cloaked emotions, making any attraction feel hazy and unsure until it completely vanished in the morning.

Not that you’d ever spent the morning with him. It was a wonder that you’d even met up on multiple occasions. That’s not how the system worked. You were given one chance at a scene, meant to be an outlet, not a dating site. But you fit so well that first time, you knew you had to see him again.

It started out with an occasional DM on Twitter, every couple of months. You would tell him what you needed, what your body and soul craved, he would tell you the location, and the time. You would show up, you would perform, exorcise your demons, go back home, rinse, repeat.

You never meant to get addicted, but there was something in his touch that liberated your soul. You knew it was one-sided, but that didn’t stop you from going back for more.

It was the end of November, an uncharacteristically cold weather had blown into town, the air smelled of snow and you decided that your fingers could use a pair of gloves. You quickened your steps. The neighborhood was neither bad, nor the greatest, but the streetlights were flickering and you started feeling the panic swell in the pit of your belly. The motel was in your sights, a flickering red sign above the main entry showed that there were a few rooms left vacant.

Entering the lobby finally set your nerves at ease. You’ve entered familiar territory.

There was a middle-aged man tending the front desk, his thinning hair glowing under the neon light. He was flicking through the pages of an old magazine, not paying too much attention to the sound of the bell when you opened the door. Really, he couldn’t even bother to look up.

“How can I help you?” was uttered under his nose, his eyes never leaving the glossy pictures. “I have a reservation for room number 7.” Your voice cracked at the “have”, not sure if it was the nerves or the lack of use. He swung around in his chair, grabbing the key from its allotted space and placing it on the desk, no “There you go.” no nothing.

Seen as he wasn’t very forthcoming, if you were being 100% honest, he was cold and insanely rude, you just grabbed the key and left the lobby. You pulled the lapels of your jacket a bit closer and hurried to get to your room. You only had half an hour to get ready.

You’ve done these scenes in almost any kind of environment, but the stagnant air and moldy waterpipes in motels had you feeling a certain way. You never claimed to understand why you liked the things that turned you on.

The first thing you had to do was set the scene. You were both lovers of 90’s aesthetics, so the outdated furniture and yellow lighting in the room were perfect. You took off your clothes, making sure to leave your white cotton set on. It was going to get destroyed anyway, so there was no point in wearing fancy underwear - his words, not yours. Come to think of it, it might had something to do with the fact that it made you look almost virginal, and it felt like he was corrupting you time and time again.

Folding your clothes one by one, you set them in your backpack and hid it in the bathroom, leaving your old self behind. You took the bedcovers off the queen-sized bed and the pillows on the nearby chair, you knew he might need them at one point. Hiking your knee on the mattress, you settled in the middle on your back, eyes closed, hands clasped on your tummy, waiting. And you didn’t have to wait for long.

You heard the creak as the door opened, but you didn’t dare open your eyes. It was one of your demands. You didn’t want to know who he was, it was easier that way, you could fantasize about the possibilities of it being anyone on the street. You could hear the soft sounds of his footsteps as he approached your lying form. “Up.” It was a signal for you to lift your head as he wrapped a scarf over your eyes. The bed dipped as his knee came to rest behind you, securing the knot and doing quick work of braiding your hair. At first, it freaked you out, but you soon came to realize that it meant he could do less damage to your scalp when he pulled, and he liked to pull on it quite a lot.

His cold fingers trailed from the bottom of your braid to your sides, making you squirm in your seat. He’d warm them up on your skin soon enough. You could hear and feel his soft exhales in your left ear, followed by the feel of his beard on your neck as he trailed kisses on your skin.

“Are you ready?” The only answer you dared give him was the tiniest nod.

Both of his hands moved between your thighs, gripping them and parting your legs as wide as they would go. His left hand found your clothed breast, roughly grabbing a handful and squeezing a moan out of you. The tips of his right hand found their way on top of your cotton panties, middle finger pressing lightly between your slit, dampening the material with your juices.

It was only an interlude, you knew that he was here on a mission to wreck you, but the intimacy of it all prickled at your soul.

You felt his whole demeanor change, his breath evening out and his muscles flexing against your body. The hand grabbing your tit moved to grab your neck, no pressure yet, he was just using his thumb and index finger to guide you against him. The one petting your pussy moved to bunch up the material of your panties and pull it up, giving you an uncomfortable wedgie but stimulating your clit at the same time. Your only response was a strangled wheeze.

“You like that? Like having strangers feel you up?” He released your neck. “Look at you. A whimpering mess and we haven’t even started yet.” You suddenly felt a light tapping on your clothed clit, increasing in force and intervals, making your head fall back on his shoulder, moaning at the slight pain.

And that’s what you were here for, the pain. You knew that he had loads of it in store for you. He grabbed your braid, maneuvering you around until your head was pressed on the bed and your thighs were spread on both sides of his knee, ass high in the air. Same as before, he bunched the material of your panties and pulled, leaving the globes of your ass bare for his eyes only. His other hand grabbed your right cheek, roughly squeezing it upwards and away, getting a peek of your puckered hole. It disappeared and came back before you could even blink behind the scarf, the resounding thwack of his palm on your ass chasing the chill away. He repeated the same motion a few times until the bottom of your ass was rosy and you were silently begging for more.

There was a ripping sound in the stillness of the room as he roughly pulled your panties. They were left to sit in ruins on your thighs as his middle finger came to inspect your leaking pussy. The whole thing looked so bad but felt so right at the same time. You were nothing but a broken puppet in his hands and you were never sure if he was trying to fix you or fuck you up beyond repair.

The pressure was building in your lower belly, his knee pressing against your bladder and his calloused finger strumming your clit, catching it with his blunt nails time and time again. Just when you thought that you might enter another dimension, his finger disappeared only to be brought back in the form of a hard hit on your pussy.

“Not so fast.”

You were impatient, but that’s not how you won this game. You felt the bed move with him, falling flat on your belly. He, once again, used your braid as a handle to position you right. You were lying like that for a few seconds or a few minutes, you couldn’t tell. The panties were off, the bra was lying somewhere on the floor and your feet were cuffed in metal rings. You recognized the familiar immobility caused by the spreader bar, holding your feet from locking together. He bound your hands in leather and left them to rest on the bed above your head. The bed dipped between your knees as he situated his body behind you, pulling on your hips, grinding your naked ass on his denim-covered crotch. You kept rotating your hips, working yourself up and stretching lazily like a cat. It was almost desperate, the need for contact so great, you would do anything for him. But he had other plans.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop making a mess? You’re such an infuriating little slut.”

He left you on the bed, tears of frustration slowly gathering behind your eyelids as you waited for any sort of stimulation. You heard the whoosh before you felt the tiny licks of pain on your back. So he decided to use the cat this time, the tiny leather knots deliciously digging in your skin. He was warming you up, knowing you needed to have a bit of pain before you reached nirvana, but ever so careful not to break the skin.

Minutes turned into eternity. Your thoughts had fled your mind. You could only feel the warmth and produce incoherent noises in different pitch. Hit after hit like tiny water droplets before the deluge. Somewhere in that not-here-nor-there space of yours, you didn’t hear the buzzing, or maybe the blood rush to your head drowned the noise. But the tiniest vibration from the wand had you shattering to pieces.

You held your breath, the scream lodged in your throat, saliva dripping on the sheets in front of you, your entire body shaking from the orgasm, your knees barely holding you up. He could only chuckle from the side, knowing that this was only the first of many that night.

He let you breathe for a while, seeing the curve of your back dip and flatten as you tried to get yourself together was a huge turn on, if the bulge straining against his jeans was anything to go by. The next time he approached, he decided to forego the whip, but kept the wand close by, just in case. He was back between your knees, hands hugging your lower back, bending you even further. His roughened hands traveled the expanse of your reddened back, making sure you still felt the phantom pain from the cat-o-nine tails. His face was in front of you, taking in the scent of your arousal before flattening his tongue on your lips. You felt the vibrations of his moan more than his actual voice, but it was over before it began.

You heard a click and felt the coldness of the lube between your cheeks. He used his middle finger to spread it on the rim and started applying steady pressure. You’ve done this before so you knew that it was time to relax and push back, allowing entry. He was working you up, slowly opening your hole to fit two of his fingers. After he was satisfied with the progress he made, he took them out and slowly replaced them with a lubed up princess plug. The metal felt heavy inside of you, but not entirely uncomfortable, and if you were being honest with yourself, it made you feel special knowing that there’s a sparkly button attached to your ass. He pulled on it a few times, making sure you were comfortable with it before leaning down and giving the clear zircon a kiss.

The incredibly tender moment was cut short when both of his palms landed hard on your cheeks. He liked seeing the contrast between your fire red flesh and the cool fake crystal handle, so much so, he couldn’t stop playing with your ass, jiggling the metal device with every squeeze.

It never occurred to you that you could cum from such a little amount of stimulation, but you were almost there. You were moaning the motel down and somewhere in that sex haze of yours you thought you might have heard a thump or two from the neighboring wall, but you couldn’t care less. Not when the wand was back on your clit, and definitely not when you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. He wasn’t being extremely gentle either. He knew you thrived on the overstimulation, pressing the pads of his fingers on your g-spot harshly, almost feeling mechanical. He was a conductor and he knew how to orchestrate your body, your moans and screams the most beautiful symphony. You thought that you would end with a dramatic crescendo, but the music sheet had a few more pages left.

His fingers left you, the wand went down at the same time as his zipper. He didn’t bother to push his pants down, just opened them enough to pull his, very hard and very ready, dick out. You heard the crinkle of the condom packet being ripped and felt the latex on you. He was rubbing his cock between your cheeks, gathering as much of your juices and lube on him before he entered you. The novelty never wore off. It didn’t matter what he did to you beforehand, it was always a tight fit, the stretch bordering pain and pleasure.

You felt full at last, the double penetration making you mewl like a cat in heat, the moan slowly rising up in volume until you did nothing but scream. Each time he moved his hips against yours sounded like thunder in your ears, the plug going deeper and deeper inside you. You tried to hold off as much as possible, but it was a losing battle.

One extremely forceful push had you collapsing on the bed, blissed out. He was chasing after his own orgasm, covering your body with his. The only indication that he was a tall man was the fact that when he laid like this, his chin would almost reach the top of your head. But you didn’t mind the weight, in fact, it almost made you feel protected.

The bed dipped to your left, he must’ve put his hand in front of you for leverage because his other was busy shoving three fingers in your mouth. You had your eyes closed, making sure you produced enough spit to lube his digits so you didn’t notice the moment the scarf shifted, freeing a tiny sliver for your eyes to see. He took those fingers, bringing his hand to your already wrecked pussy, finding purpose in playing with your clit. The sensation was too much, revving you up one last time. One final push had you coming hard, milking his cock for every last drop, vision going black, and the sight of a familiar finger tattoo making your heart painfully clench.

--------

It was New Year’s Eve and you were on a mission. The Christmas lights were on, the finger food was on the table and the guests were about to arrive. There was no dress code, you just told them to dress comfortably. It was a small event, you didn’t have many friends to begin with, courtesy of always working, but you did have a growing circle of people who loved video games as much as you.

You were slowly becoming a tight-knit family, getting together for game nights and the occasional drinks, and you liked it, you didn’t need more interaction. You were, however, extremely happy when one of your gamer buddies gave you a bit of his attention. Where you were generally talkative and friendly, he was your polar opposite, deciding to stay in his shy shell until he felt comfortable enough to speak. You knew he had a good soul, you just never knew what to expect from him. The only time his real self decided to come out was when he was in the middle of a game.

But you did in fact know a little bit more about him than you were letting off. He was in your apartment now, scanning the place for an empty corner to hide in. You couldn’t help but admire him, a tiny ball of lust wound tight in your lower belly. He looked so good in a pair of light blue jeans and a white tee, covered by a red plaid shirt. The tattoos peeking beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves and the whole grungy look were such a contrast to his shy self, it almost made you laugh, that is, until you realized that you might have cum a few times from rubbing yourself sore on the coarse denim of his jeans.

The advantage of playing host was that you always had an excuse to go up to people and strike up a conversation. You let him relax for a bit, though. Cornering him right off the bat might do more harm. But you were done playing this game of cat and mouse, where the cat was in fact a kitty and the mouse was a Pit Bull in disguise and you wanted to know what was his endgame.

You found him in the kitchen by himself, licking some pizza sauce from his fingers. “Oh, hey Michael, didn’t expect to see you here. Too crowded?” You pointed behind you at the party, eyes zoned in on his Adam’s apple moving as he gulped. He looked a bit startled but he wasn’t cowering like you expected him to. “Yeah, you know me, not much of a team player.” You knew that wasn’t the full truth because whenever he tried to hide something, he would try to fix his already perfectly styled bleached fringe.

There were layers to his personality, and he was never game to show them all at once, but you were willing to unravel him. You were thankful for once that your kitchen was tiny so it only took you a couple steps to reach his side. Before you could chicken out, you grabbed his left hand and brought it up for inspection. He tried to pull it away, but you were having none of that. “You know Mikey, I never really asked you what this tattoo’s about, and I’ve been meaning to for a while now.” He still looked uncomfortable, but the way your thumb kept rubbing over the circle and three dots engraved on his middle finger was making his eyes dilate. “You like it?” His tone was no longer shy, and you could finally understand why you never put two and two together. Turned on Michael was speaking in a low, almost gravelly voice, completely unrecognizable from his usual higher-pitched tones. And now he knew you knew. And there was no escaping it.

“I liked it better when it was disappearing into my pussy.” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. You knew you were trying to act tough, but the moment he wound his fingers in your hair and pulled, you knew that you’d always be putty in his hands. “Don’t forget your place, pet.” he breathed out. “You don’t get to top from the bottom. I could easily bend you over the table in front of all of our friends and have your ass red if I wanted to.” And you knew that he would. He detangled himself from you, leaving you turned on and confused in the middle of the kitchen.

The party was dying down. There were a few stragglers left, their silhouettes hazy in your vodka-Sprite-induced vision. A new year has begun and for once you dared yourself to make a wish. Little did you know that once everyone left, a certain 90’s enthusiast would make all of your wishes come true, and then some, only this time you could look into his green eyes while you died a little death.

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

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Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 4

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

“Are we there yet? I thought you said this was supposed to be fun?”

Launchpad shook his head and grinned. “Nearly there, kiddo.” The whining should have been bugging him. But he was surprised she’d actually come. This one was much more of a troublemaker than his Gosalyn had been. Not that she hadn’t upset her adoptive father on more than one occasion, but that had always been innocently. She’d been such an odd child.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“Launchpad doesn’t ignore me.”

“I’m not your Launchpad.” The Negaverse Launchpad took one last drag on his cigarette, then stomped it out under his boot and carefully kicked dirt over it. “Look, we’re here.”

They’d come upon a derelict little shack. Behind it ran an old creek bed, all but dry in the arid weather.

Gosalyn frowned. “I’m still not impressed.”

“Man, you’re a tough little nut, aren’t you?” Launchpad booted open the rusty door, and the whole hovel rattled and shook. A single, not-quite-upright support column propped up a support beam that ran across the centre of the roof. The column visibly swayed, dust rained down from the rotting ceiling and the old kerosene lamp he’d hung up bounced around, but the shack stood firm. One day he was going to send the whole thing crashing down, and that was exactly the reason Launchpad kept booting the door in so hard. Inside was littered with fuel cans, butane canisters, a couple lengths of PVC pipe, crates of bottles and cans, some old course rope, and, of course, potatoes.

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the gun? This is just a pile of trash.”

Launchpad winced. The terrible thing was she was right. He really missed his rocket launcher. He scooped up the PVC pipe and tossed it to her. “Well, you’re going to learn how to make a gun from a pile of trash. Grab the other half. I’ll get the potatoes.”

Gosalyn looked at him like he’d grown another head. But he definitely had her hooked. She grabbed the other length of pipe, and carried them both outside.

Launchpad gulped at the lump in his throat. Oh man. He was getting attached way too fast. Hanging out with Gosalyn had roused that faint feeling of guilt down inside. He’d have liked to have thought he’d gotten between his Gosalyn and Negaduck once or twice, that he’d protected her. But the truth was, despite all his faults, Negaduck would never dream of physically hurting his daughter. He had other ways of keeping her in line. Launchpad had never stood between them; he’d never had the guts. He’d just been the guy who was usually around when Negaduck got so fed up with his daughter he felt like hurting someone. At least now his Gosalyn was being looked after way better then he’d ever been capable of in Negaduck’s house. She was better off without him.

Launchpad huffed and hefted up the crate of potatoes. “Bastard.” He booted one of the butane canisters and sent it spinning out the door.

“Hey!”

“Pick it up. We need it.”

Outside, Gosalyn was trying to assemble the bits of PVC pipe, her tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Here.” Launchpad set up the pipe to form the canon, resting it on its makeshift tripod so it pointed out and over the dry creek bed. Across the other side he’d previously set up crates, bottles and cans. And, most importantly, nothing that he’d get in trouble for hurling a potato clean through.

Gosalyn was picking up on the general idea. She rifled through the crate of potatoes, picked a good sized one, and rolled it down the tube. Then she scowled. “How’s a bit of plastic supposed to fire a potato?”

Launchpad picked up the tin of butane and spun it around so Gosalyn could see the ‘caution: flammable’ warning on its side. “We’re going to set this. On fire.”

“You’ve really got a theme, don’t you?”

Launchpad filled the tube with gas, and sat himself behind the pipe to line her up and make sure the recoil didn’t send the whole thing spinning off. That had been pretty funny the first time he’d fired it, and Gosalyn probably would get a kick out of the whole contraption knocking him on his ass. But he wasn’t going to risk it with the child of the superhero who probably still didn’t trust him around. Satisfied everything was set up as safe as a potato gun could be, her lit her up.

The potato shot out of the tube with a pop, sailed through the air and splattered some hundred yards across the other side of the creek.

Gosalyn’s jaw dropped. “Keen gear.”

Launchpad loaded and fired off a half dozen more. Truth was the thing was impossible to aim, and he rarely had to go out to set up new targets. Still, he somehow managed to send a potato splintering through an old crate he’d set up. He broke down laughing, which really confused Gosalyn. He’d spent far too long scratching a likeness of Negaduck into that crate, but you couldn’t actually see it from this distance.

“Okay, you weirdo. If you’re going to sit there and giggle, I think that means its my turn.”

“Alright, alright. Let me get you set up. This things got a fair bit of kick. Wait…” The sound of an engine cut into the desert air. It sounded like a motorbike. Launchpad’s eyes narrowed and his fists tensed at his sides.

“Is that a motorbike? What, what is it?”

“Probably that damn kid.” Launchpad drew in a breath, and fought down the part of himself that still wanted to deal with any annoyance with as much force as possible. He’d kept it at bay last time, even if Mrs McQuack hadn’t been entirely happy when he’d told her what happened. “I caught him riding on the McQuack’s property a few weeks ago. When I told him to clear off, he back-chatted me. So I fired a potato in his general direction. I think he got the message.”

Now, he was going to have to find some other way to deal with the situation. Mrs McQuack had told him off, despite the fact he’d made it clear he hadn’t actually fired the potato straight at the brat. She hadn’t made him do anything dumb like go apologise, but she’d told him not to fire projectiles at or near people again. Especially kids. “At least, I thought he got the message.” Launchpad shielded his eyes as he searched for the machine. It was familiar, but now he wasn’t sure it was that same kid’s bike.

“Fill her up. Check. Aim. Light her up!”

Launchpad didn’t realise what Gosalyn was doing until the PVC pipe let out a decidedly louder than normal pop. The slam of an impact and splintering wood followed a split second later.

Launchpad spun around. “Shit!”

The PVC pipe bounced and rattled along the ground then rolled to rest. Gosalyn slumped against the side of the shack where she’d been thrown, one of the brittle boards cracked and splintered behind her head.

“No, no, no…” Launchpad skidded to his knees beside her and gently shook her shoulders. “Kiddo?”

The motorbike rattled up behind him and the engine shuddered off. Even a bratty kid would help. And if he didn’t, he could donate his bike to getting Gosalyn back to the house as quick as possible.

“Oh. Wow. Nice job. She’s been here, what, three hours? I can’t believe I used to let you babysit. In fact, I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

Launchpad’s chest tightened; he couldn’t breathe. His vision grew fuzzy around the edges. All he could focus on was his trembling hands and how they engulfed Gosalyn’s tiny shoulders. Gosalyn. Launchpad finally managed to suck in a gasp of air, and the oxygen cleared his head. He couldn’t let him hurt this Gosalyn. Launchpad gathered every ounce of his strength and turned to face the voice from his past.

“You ran away from me too, didn’t you?” Negaduck. He was right. There. His yellow and black motorcycle behind him, and Launchpad wondered how he’d ever mistaken its sound for a dirt bike. “So much for loyalty.”

“What are you doing here?” Launchpad’s voice grated and caught in his throat.

“I tailed that idiot Darkwing Duck. Figured I could have a little fun out here.” Negaduck’s beak split into a wide grin. “But this is a surprise. Where’ve you been, buddy?”

“I was never your buddy. You have to leave. Now.” His voice sounded weak, pathetic. Even to his own ears.

Negaduck laughed. “Oh, someone definitely ran away, didn’t they?” The cackle cut off just as quickly, then Negaduck was right on top of him, grabbing him by the collar, pressing his beak against his. “You don’t tell me what to do!”

Launchpad stumbled back under the unexpected weight and his heart-rate rocketed. He shoved Negaduck off and threw up his guard. “Don’t touch me!”

Negaduck raised his hands and took a step back, chuckling. “Someone’s developed a backbone.”

“You can’t. Be here. You’re whole deal is Saint Canard, and Darkwing Duck, and… you can’t mess with the McQuacks. They’re good people. They don’t live in a place like Saint Canard. They can’t deal with all this superhero and villain stuff.”

“The McQuacks, huh?” Negaduck stroked his beak, completely ignoring the fact Launchpad was squared up like he wanted to fight. “Oh, you idiot, what have you been doing? Playing happy little families? This isn’t your world, you know.”

“Never stopped you from trying to take it over.”

Negaduck flung his arms wide. “That’s because I’m ambitious. But now, there’s an idea. Messing with a cute innocent country family whilst Darkwing Duck tries to protect them? Could be fun.”

“Negaduck, don’t.”

“Come on, Launchpad. You know it will be. I know I usually left you in charge of the home front. But, seeing as you’re here, why don’t we both have a little fun?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Negaduck waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll let you fly my aeroplane.”

The faintest hint of a thrill rose in Launchpad’s chest. He was actually letting him… And then, slowly, he lowered his fists. “I… I can’t believe I let you take that away from me. I’ve got plenty of aeroplanes I can fly now. And the people who own them don’t tease me with them, and make me feel like I have to earn every last little shred of respect!”

“Been behaving yourself, have you? Got them fooled? Please. What do you think they’ll think about this?” He pointed a finger at Gosalyn. “Or this?” And jabbed his thumb back into his own chest. “As soon as they see who you really are they won’t be so forgiving.”

“Darkwing’s here.”

“Yeah, and you just knocked out his daughter. Listen up, Launchpad. I’m giving you a choice. As soon as your little surrogate family realises I’m here, they’re going to start asking questions. They’re going to think you called me, or at least that taking you in was what brought this tragedy down upon them…”

“You leave them alone.”

“Maybe I will. I’d rather cause my havoc at night anyway, so I’ll give you until sunset. Then, you’re going to come back to this sad little shack and you’re going to tell me you’re ready to help me take down Darkwing Duck. In return, I’ll let these good, kind people get away with simply the scare of me slaughtering a superhero in their back garden. Or, you oppose me, or tell Darkwing I’m here, and if that happens…” Negaduck cackled. “I’ll burn this whole place to the ground, along with any soul unfortunate enough to get in my way!”

Launchpad’s fists shook at his sides. Grab him now. Tie him up. Beat him to a pulp. He’s half your size! All those thoughts bounced around in his head. But he didn’t move. “Negaduck, please don’t.”

Negaduck threw a leg over his motorcycle and started her up. “Think about it, old pal. It really would be fun causing chaos with you again.” Then he gunned the engine, skidded around so the bike threw up a wave of dirt, and tore away.

As soon as the motorcycle disappeared over the nearest rise, Launchpad’s knees buckled. His back slammed into the old shack besides Gosalyn and he put his face in his hands. “Aw, kid. What am I supposed to do?” He fished the packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, and fumbled to push out a single one so he could grab hold of it. The simple task was almost impossible.

Gosalyn shot to her feet. “I knew I needed to keep an eye on you!”

“Shit!” The packet jumped from Launchpad’s hands and cigarettes scattered everywhere. “Damn it, kid. I thought you’d really hurt yourself.”

Gosalyn put her hands on her hips. “Don’t play games with me. I saw you talking to Negaduck! You’re still working for him, aren’t you?”

Launchpad’s heart plummeted. “No! I didn’t even know he was here, I swear.”

“A likely… story…” Gosalyn blinked a couple of times, then sat down heavily.

“Aw, man, you’re not okay, are you?” Launchpad reached out for her.

Gosalyn swiped a hand in front of her face. “Back off, buster.”

He could’ve scooped her up and there would be nothing she could do about it, but Launchpad paused in his advance. “You hit you’re head. I just want to check you’re okay.” He reached out for her again, slowly, and she lowered her hand. He felt her head. There was no blood, but he thought he could feel a decent sized bump.

Gosalyn tolerated it for a second, then slapped at his hand. “Ow, stop.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.” She frowned up at him. “Your hands are shaking.”

Launchpad swallowed hard. “I’m not working for Negaduck. Please believe me. He was just… there. He said if I didn’t help him he’d hurt the McQuacks. What am I supposed to do?” Suddenly, nothing seemed as important as this kid believing him. He didn’t know what else to say to convince her.

“I must’ve really hit my head… okay. He must’ve followed us from Saint Canard. Maybe we should tell Dad.”

“No! We can’t. If I tell Darkwing, Negaduck’s going to hurt the McQuacks. I have to deal with this myself. And if the McQuacks find out…” If he lost their trust, he didn’t know he could take it. No wonder this world’s Launchpad had been so angry with him when he arrived. It didn’t matter that he’d changed. He’d dragged trouble right along with him. Launchpad hung his head. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Gosalyn leaned over and swiped her knuckles into his arm. It was a terrible punch, and he was sure she could’ve done better had she not been semi out of it. “Come on. Where would you be if you hadn’t crashed in their front yard?”

Not causing trouble for innocent families for sure. Launchpad stood to his feet and held out a hand. “Can you get up?”

Gosalyn pushed herself to shaky feet and grabbed onto his arm.

“Right, I’d better carry you.”

“You are not carrying me like a baby.”

“I’m not letting you walk.”

“Hang on. Crouch down.”

Launchpad did as she instructed. Gosalyn managed to make a little jump, and hook her arms around his neck. Launchpad hefted her up in a piggy back, making sure he had his arms under her in case she passed out again and lost her grip. He started heading back to the house. “You’re not going to tell your Dad about Negaduck, right?”

“Okay fine. But you have to do something for me first.”

Despite his apprehension, Launchpad rolled his eyes. This kid was something else. “I’m not letting you play with the potato gun again. But, go on, anything else. What do you want?”

“I know Negaduck’s not a nice guy. But you’re terrified of him. What did he do to you? Launchpad told me about him making you burn your planes, but, you know, what else?”

Launchpad’s guts tightened. “Aw, man, kid. You don’t pull any punches do you?”

“If someone scared my Launchpad that bad… well, that’s why I was so mad at you.”

“Okay, okay…” There was plenty to choose from. Some he certainly wouldn’t share with a kid. But neither did Launchpad want to downplay her question by choosing something like Negaduck getting way too competitive about playing punchies, which had never really bothered him at all. And then he thought about his own Gosalyn. “It wasn’t just me he was a jerk to…”

***

“Come on, Negaduck. Are you sure you’re not going a bit overboard?”

“Stop whining,” Negaduck grumbled as he balanced on Launchpad’s shoulders so he could tie his minion’s wrists to the branch above. The dying tree in Negaduck’s backyard couldn’t take his weight, so they’d just settled for stringing him up to it with his feet still on the ground. “You’re the idiot who let her keep talking about getting a pink pinata for her birthday. Honestly, I leave you two alone for five minutes…”

“You beat a pinata with a stick! I thought you wanted her to find something violent to enjoy? Sounds like violence to me.”

“She wants a pink pony pinata because its supposed to have candy inside. Urgh. I don’t want any daughter of mine getting candy for her birthday. By this age, I expect her to ask me for a butterfly knife or something.” Negaduck finished his knot, then leapt back to the ground. “If she wants to hit something with a stick the only thing she should enjoy getting out of it is blood and teeth.” He scooped up the rolled up bit of cardboard that had come with the pinata Gosalyn thought she was getting, and thumped Launchpad heavily on the chest with it.

Launchpad grinned. “Heh. Yeah. That’s always fun. I’m glad she won’t be knocking anything out with that flimsy piece of trash though. But we’ve got to start her somewhere, right?”

“Oh, yeah of course.” Negaduck dug amongst the smashed paper mache they’d already destroyed in the corner of the yard, and came up with a handful of colourful candy, and a pink ribbon. “Now, hold still.”

“I don’t want that thing in my hair… wha…”

Negaduck rammed the candy, wrappers and all, into Launchpad’s beak, then trussed it up with the pink ribbon. “That’s much better.” He grinned, patted Launchpad on his bulging check, then screamed: “Gosalyn! Get your butt out here. It’s pinata time!”

Gosalyn stumbled out of the house in her pink party dress, blindfolded. She grinned madly as she swayed across the yard like a drunk man. “Dad! Can I at least see the pinata first?”

“What? And break the pinata rules?” Negaduck winked at Launchpad. Then he hurled the rolled up piece of cardboard over the Muddlefoot’s fence. “Won’t be needing this!” He reached into the pile of paper mache and pulled out an aluminium baseball bat.

Launchpad shuffled back. “Nefadufck…” he mumbled around the plastic mixed with sickly sweet goop in his mouth.

“Stay where you are, Launchpad!” Negaduck barked.

Launchpad jerked to a halt at the order.

“What?” said Gosalyn. “What’s he doing?”

“Being pushy. You know how he likes smashing thing. But you’re the party girl; so you get to go first.” Negaduck shoved the bat into Gosalyn’s hands and adjusted her grip. He pointed her to face Launchpad.

Gosalyn tapped the bat on Launchpad’s hip.

“Higher, sweetheart. If you want it to spill, you need to hit it right in the guts.” Negaduck leaned forward, hand on his daughter’s shoulder, a wicked grin splitting his beak.

Gosalyn adjusted her grip. All the practice Launchpad had with her in the back yard was paying off; her swing was perfect. The bat slammed up under his ribs. Launchpad dropped. The flimsy bough broke under his weight and snapped in half on impact across his back. Launchpad doubled over as bile leapt up his throat and mixed with the gunk in his mouth. He spluttered and gagged and couldn’t get air, and then the flimsy pink ribbon popped and the whole mess spilled out on the browning lawn.

Gosalyn ripped her blindfold off. No way she could’ve been fooled that impact had been with paper mache. The bat clattered to the ground at her side.

“Gosalyn… I’m… kay…” Launchpad said, then sagged back down with a wheeze.

Gosalyn’s eyes filled with tears. “Launchpad, I’m sorry.” She bolted back into the house.

Negaduck cackled. “Happy birthday, sweetheart!”

Launchpad spat, then pushed himself to his knees, a hand still to his belly.

Negaduck grabbed him by the collar. “Next time, I expect you to talk her out of this kind of garbage before I have to get involved. I can find someone much bigger than a little girl to take a swing at you.” He hauled him to his feet and flung him towards the house. “Now go ask her if she wants cake!”

***

He’d carried Gosalyn almost all the way back to the house now. Launchpad gulped and adjusted his grip underneath her. Between Darkwing Duck and the McQuacks, he really didn’t know how this would pan out.

“You can put me down now.”

Launchpad let her slip off his back. She grabbed him around the waist and hugged him tight.

“Hey… what?”

“I’m sorry, Launchpad. I knew Negaduck was a jerkface, but… I won’t tell my Dad. And I’ll help you take care of Negaduck.”

“Heh.” Launchpad prised her off him. “Let’s just make sure you’re okay first.”

***

Drake had paced the porch for the last half hour. His only consolation, despite Birdie’s assurances that the Negaverse Launchpad was harmless, was that it was highly unlikely he had kidnapped his daughter. Gosalyn would have taken off with him simply because she knew her father wouldn’t like it.

Finally, he saw her coming down the front path, Launchpad’s double trailing almost right behind her. Drake cleared the front steps and rushed to meet his daughter. “Gosalyn, don’t go running off like that!”

He knew something was wrong when Gosalyn looked up at him, not ready for an argument, but with relief. And then she slumped into his arms. Drake clamped her tight to her chest. His gaze snapped up to the Negaverse Launchpad, and the only thing that stopped him from slamming a fist into his face was supporting his daughter. “What did you do?” he hissed.

“Dad, it’s okay,” said Gosalyn, though she still clung to him. “It’s not his fault. I was being stupid and I fell over.”

Launchpad shuffled a boot through the dirt. “She hit her head. I’m sorry. I thought I was watching her.” The subdued moment was just so… Launchpad, that it gave Drake pause. His buddy’s double actually felt bad about this. So he should, but still.

Leaning on the porch railing beside his wife, Ripcord went rigid. “Wait, she hit her head?” He paled several shades. “I’ll… doctor…” He bolted back inside so quickly the door slammed into the wall and the front windows rattled.

Birdie winced. “Rip! It’s okay, she’s conscious…” She hung her head in resignation. “Great. We’re going to have the entirety of the town’s medical staff here in ten minutes. I thought we were past this.”

Drake scooped Gosalyn up, despite her half-hearted protestations, threw a glare at Launchpad’s double, and followed Birdie inside. His heart still thudded in his chest, but it was steadily slowing. He wasn’t sure how mad he was supposed to be at the Negaverse Launchpad. I mean, he’d be mad at Launchpad if he’d let something like this happen, but he wouldn’t hold it against him. He wasn’t surprised Gosalyn had gone and down something dumb. It wasn’t the first time.

“Yes, send them now!” Ripcord growled into the phone.

Birdie, put a hand on his arm. “Ripcord, calm down. Here…” She took the phone off him. “Yes, she’s conscious. But if you could send one of the doctors over that’d be great.” She hung up, then turned back to her husband and grasped his hands. “Are you alright?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Ripcord grumbled.

Launchpad pushed past them, not making eye contact with anyone, and went into the kitchen.

Drake took Gosalyn into the living room, put her down onto the sofa and rearranged the cushions around her.

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you are. Although, its not the first time you’ve given yourself a concussion.” He squeezed her shoulder. “That head of yours is nearly as hard as Launchpad’s. You’ll be fine.”

“My son does not have a hard head,” said Ripcord. “And neither does your daughter! You don’t know what happened to her; it could be serious. How can you be so blase about your own child…”

Drake saw red. He whirled and stabbed a finger into Ripcord’s chest. “I think I know whether my daughter needs medical attention or not, thank you very much!”

Although Drake had intended to give him a good prod in the chest, he found himself pointing just above the man’s belly button. Ripcord glared down at him, and then his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

Drake lowered his hand. “I… yeah, I know. Thanks for, you know, being so on the ball and calling the doctor. Sorry, I overreacted.”

Ripcord smiled tightly. “Hey, its fine, I get it. I have kids too, remember?” He turned to Birdie. “How long ago did we call?”

“Speaking of kids,” said Birdie. “I heard one of our planes come back over. Launchpad might be back in the hanger. You should go talk to him. He’ll be in a better mood after taking a plane out.”

“Yeah, but…”

Birdie patted his arm.“Not your kid. We’ll handle it. You know you’ll just get underfoot.”

“Probably,” Ripcord huffed. He glanced one last time at Gosalyn, then headed out the front door.

Launchpad came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and took it to Gosalyn. Drake snatched it off him, then handed it over to her.

“Dad, really?”

“I don’t know what you two were up to,” he said, voice low. “But you are not going out together unsupervised again!”

***

Chapter 5

#darkwing duck #darkwing #darkwing fanfiction #darkwing duck fanfiction #dwd #dwd91 #darkwing duck 1991 #nega launchpad #negalaunchpad #gosalyn mallard #drake mallard #ripcord mcquack #birdie mcquack #negaduck #disney ducks

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years

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Where Are The Ghostbusters When You Need Them?

Hi! Thanks for checking out my story!

Despite the title, the story actually does not feature the Ghostbusters, but it does feature the Flash Rogues. That's almost as good, right?

The story can't really fit anywhere canonically since Evan and Sam are alive simultaneously, among other things, but hopefully it'll be an enjoyable story anyhow.

Mirror Master I: You ever seen one of those creepy houses? You know, the ones with broken windows and crumbling spires and ivy growing all over them? The ones that used to belong to super rich people and are now allegedly owned by some mysterious “third cousin once removed” that no one’s ever actually seen? The ones that stupid teenagers dare each other to spend the night in? Well, Central City has one of those creepy houses. Or, more accurately, Central City’s Pine Woods suburb has one of those creepy houses. It’s commonly known as the old Jackson place. It's a three-story mansion, with broken windows, crumbling stone, a creepy staircase, massive spires....the works. It was even used as a set for a horror movie back in the 80s. Even though it technically isn’t in the city proper, it’s close enough that everyone knows about the house-and the stories surrounding it. Allegedly, the old Jackson place was built by Adolphus Jackson in 1792, after he immigrated from somewhere in Ireland with his family. They were Central City’s first settlers (the Rathaways were second). He and his wife, Betty, had sixteen kids (although only ten survived to adulthood). All the dead kids were buried in the backyard of the house, so things are already getting creepy. (Some people say that you can hear crying when you go by the house, and other people have claimed to see ghostly children.) His oldest son, Jared, inherited the house when old man Jackson died in 1846. (He was buried behind the house, and yep, people have claimed to see him, too.) Jared worked alongside Martin Garrick (yes, he IS related to Jay Garrick) and my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Shawn Scudder, in Central City’s Underground Railroad. (Am I shaming my heritage? Yeah, probably. Moving on.) People have claimed to see the ghosts of slaves and such around the old Jackson place, and they’ve also claimed to see the ghosts of Harold and Rufus Jackson, an uncle and nephew who fought on opposite sides of the Civil War. In 1877, Jared died, and his second son, Arnold, inherited the house. (His oldest son was Harold, who died at the Battle of Chancellorsville.) Arnold got married to his second cousin, which is several levels of weird, and he added onto the house, making it a lot bigger and more impressive looking. He died in 1885, after adding to the family’s sizable fortune, and his son, Bernard, inherited the house and made it even fancier. Bernard is also where the really messed up stories about the Jackson place begin, as his oldest son, Robert, fell in love with a girl his father hated (partially because he had planned for his son to marry Lydia Rathaway, Piper’s great-great-great aunt). Their arguments over it got really nasty, and so eventually Robert ran away with his chick and got married to her, only for his father to threaten to cut him off. Sonny boy decided that he wanted the money more than his wife, and he abandoned her and was remarried to Piper’s great-great-great aunt. There was only one snag: his old wife had gotten pregnant and drowned herself in the pond (now dried up) on the back of the property to get revenge a few days after her baby was born. (People claim to see her ghost quite frequently.) Her parents, the Desmonds (and the Rathaways, who were mad that Bernard had had his son marry their daughter when he already had a wife) sued the pants off the Jacksons and the family was reduced to semi-poverty. Robert hung himself a few weeks after the lawsuit was settled (he allegedly haunts the house, too) and Bernard started drinking. A lot. He died in 1910 (probably from alcohol poisoning) and the estate was inherited by his only surviving offspring, a 19-year-old daughter named Alicia, who became a librarian and never married. (Alicia didn’t live in the house after the age of 21, probably because of all the bad memories, but people still see her ghost there.) She died in 1971, and the house, which had sat unused for over three decades, had already gained a reputation as being massively haunted, a reputation that only increased when some stupid 17-year-old broke into the house on a dare, fell down the old stairs in the dark, and broke his neck in 1995. (Since then, people have claimed to see HIS ghost as well.) So you get the point: the old Jackson place is massively haunted, massively creepy, and massively empty, so, of course, Captain Cold decided that we needed to break into the place on Halloween. Now, to be fair, we do something to get our adrenaline up every year on Halloween, but there’s a difference between going to a commercial haunted house, where nothing is real, and going to an old house that might actually be haunted, especially when said old house is falling apart and everyone is wearing ridiculous costumes (as we do every year). Earlier in the month, we had decided to dress up as classic movie monsters. Or at least I thought we had. As it turned out, some people had badly missed the memo….

Mirror Master II: Okay, so maybe the scarecrow costume I had wasnae all that scary, but it wasnae my fault! How was I supposed to ken that all the scary scarecrow costumes would be sold out by October 24? I wasnae PLANNING to be the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz! But I’m off topic. All of us had agreed to meet on the front lawn before we broke into the haunted house, so at 7:00 PM on Halloween night, I got into me costume and went to the lawn. Golden Glider (dressed as a vampire), Scudder (dressed as a zombie), the Trickster (dressed as a bedsheet ghost), Captain Boomerang (dressed as Frankenstein’s monster), and the Pied Piper (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) were already there, and, of course, as soon as he saw me costume, Scudder started laughing. “They were sold out of the scary costumes, ye eejit,” I said. “Then why didn’t you alter it or something? You don’t look scary at all!” Scudder asked. “Hey, at least I look scarier than the Trickster. And besides, not all of us be seamstresses, Scudder,” I replied. (He’d made his own costume and thought that nobody knew. Eejit.) Scudder flushed and suddenly became very interested in the bushes. At this point, Captain Cold showed up in cat ears. That was his whole costume. Otherwise, he jus’ looked like a hockey fan (which he be). His sister-a bonnie lassie, she-wasnae pleased with that. “Lenny, you were supposed to dress up as something scary!” “I did. I’m a werecat.” I’m nae sure why he thought that would be convincing. “Oh, come on! You didn’t even try!”“I never try. Why are you acting like this is something new?” The Glider threw up her hands. “Because you promised me you would try this year!” “I have a tail. Does that make it better?” The Glider rolled her eyes.“I give up.” She tossed her golden hair over her shoulder-I tell ye, she is a bonnie lass-and went to talk with the Piper. The Weather Wizard showed up a few seconds later, and I saw soomthing I never wanted to see: him in a dress. “What are ye supposed tae be, me gran?” The Wizard scowled.“I’m a witch!” I looked at him oddly. “Ye could have been a werewolf, and ye decided tae be a witch?”“It’s thematic! You know: wizards are magic; witches are magic….” I laughed. “Look, if ye want to dress up like a lassie, ye kin. Just donae expect me tae understand why.” The Wizard stormed off, and the Top arrived on the lawn, dressed as a gigantic top. Scudder laughed so hard that he had tae sit down, and I laughed pretty heartily myself. “What is so amusing?” the Top asked. Naebody bothered to explain that it was because he wasnae cooperating with the theme, because we all knew he wouldnae listen. “They’re just being stupid, sweetie pie. You look amazing,” the Glider said. (I’m nae sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to calm him doon.) Luckily for the Top, Heat Wave decided to show up at this point, and his costume made Captain Boomerang laugh so hard he wet himself and made me laugh so hard that I had to join Scudder on the ground, so everyone forgot about him. “Why are you wearing a tutu?” Captain Cold asked (as soon as he was capable of speech again.)“Well, I was gonna be Frankenstein, but Digger stole my idea, and I didn’t have any other ideas, so I decided that me in a tutu was scarier than any monster,” Heat Wave replied. I looked him over again and immediately wished I had nae doon it. He was right; the sight of a 6’6”, 250 pound man in a frilly pink tutu is more terrifying than any monster. His logic seemed to work on everyone else, too, because Captain Cold quickly changed the subject. “Okay, are we ready?” Scudder raised an eyebrow. “To break into the creepy ghost house? No, but I know I’m doing it anyway,” he replied. (At the time, I thought that he was being a wet blanket, but as it turned out, he was right to be a tad worried.) “As long as we’re bringing flashlights, I suppose so,” the Piper said. (He had been against going to the haunted house, tae, but he had been opposed to it because of some kid who had died there back in the 90s because the house didnae have lights, not because of Scudder’s ghosties, which he didnae believe in. Because of that, he had changed his tune after Cold promised him that he could bring a flashlight if he wanted tae.)“Then let’s go,” Captain Cold ordered. With that, Scudder and I transported everyone to the house via Mirror Realm. Having only lived in Central City for a year, I had never seen it before, and I was a tad freaked out by what I saw. The house itself wasnae too bad, but the creepy dead grass and trees, and the graveyard in the back of the house, were spooky, especially under the huge moon.“‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?’ Really?” Golden Glider said scornfully, pointing at a sign in the yard. Her brother shrugged. “Probably some kid’s idea of a prank.” Piper, meanwhile, was looking nervously at a different sign. “Cold, this sign is from the government. It says the building is condemned. Are you sure we’ll be safe to go in there?” he asked. “Since when do we care what the government thinks?” Captain Cold replied. “When a building might collapse on our heads!” Piper exclaimed. “And when it’s haunted!” Scudder added, sounding happy to have an excuse tae go home. Captain Cold sighed and rolled his eyes. “Piper, if the house seems like it’s gonna collapse on us, we’ll just have Scudder and the Scotsman transport us out. We’ll be fine,” he said. Piper seemed to relax.“Good point,” he said. Sam didn’t look as calm. “But what about the ghosts?” he asked. “Sam, ghosts don’t exist. They’re a product of overactive imagination and too many horror stories,” the Piper replied, only for Captain Boomerang to join the conversation.“They are too real! My second cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s dad’s third cousin’s aunt saw one!” he exclaimed, sounding offended. Piper didnae look convinced. “That’s hardly conclusive proof of-” he began, only tae be cut off by Captain Cold. “Enough about ghosts! Let’s go inside already!” he exclaimed. With that, Trickster picked the lock on the door. He pushed it open, producing a loud CREAK, and then we went inside.

Weather Wizard: I’m going to tell you a secret: the witch costume was an accident. I swear, I thought I ordered the Dark Wizard costume, but when I opened up the package a week before Halloween, I found a witch costume instead, and because I didn’t have another two weeks to wait (or any more money) I was stuck with it and just decided to pretend it had been my plan the whole time to save face. (At least it matched the theme, unlike cats, tops, and ballerinas.) But I digress. So, after the Trickster picked the lock, we went inside and Piper and Cold turned on their flashlights. The hallway contained cobwebs and a moth-eaten carpet, but nothing else.

“We'll cover more ground if we divide and conquer, so let’s split up into groups and search this place for valuables. Lisa, you’re with me. Scudder, you’re with McCulloch. Mardon, you’re with Rory. Rathaway, you’re with Jesse. Dillon, you’re with Harkness,” Cold barked.

“WE’RE SPLITTING UP? That’s like the #1 way to die in a haunted house!” Scudder whined. (As it turned out, he was right to be worried, but at the time, I thought he was overreacting.) Hartley sighed.

“Sam, ghosts do not exist,” he said. (He was wrong.) Then he turned to Cold and asked,

“How will the Mirror Masters be able to transport us to safety if we’re not in the same part of the house?” Cold rolled his eyes.

“Piper, unless there’s an earthquake, the Mirror Masters will be able to get to all of us before the house falls. They basically have access to a teleportation system. We’ll be fine,’” Cold replied. Piper didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t keep arguing.

“Why am I with Harkness? He’s an uncultured boor,” Dillon demanded.

“Well, I ain’t too fond of you, either, you wowser!” Harkness yelled.

“Why can’t I be with Roscoe, Lenny?” Lisa asked. Cold sighed wearily.

“Fine. Dillon, you’re with Lisa. Harkness, you’re with me. Sam, stop whining. Now let’s go!” Cold exclaimed. McCulloch saluted, dragged Scudder into a mirror, and vanished, and the rest of us fanned out to search the house. After walking through some more cobwebby hallways, Mick and I reached what I assumed was the living room. The room was filled with decaying furniture and mysterious old knicknacks, everything was covered in cobwebs, and part of the roof had fallen in. Seeing this, I had to wonder if the Piper had been right about the dangers of the building.

“How long do you think it’s been since someone touched any of this?” Mick asked me.

“If I had to guess, I’d say at least forty years,” I replied. I glanced out the window and noticed that a cloud had covered part of the moon and that the rest of it had turned red, and I shuddered. “Mick, there’s a blood moon.” I said quietly.

“So? They talked about that on the news,” Mick replied as he started pawing through the knicknacks laying on the floor.

“Never mind,” I said quickly as I joined him. I didn’t want him to think I was scared or anything. Several minutes later, we were still sorting through things and had found nothing but a broken teacup, a broken porcelain doll, and a dusty beaded shawl.

“I hope the whole house ain’t like this. If it is, Captain Cold’ll be mad,” Mick said. I shrugged.

“That’s his problem, not mine.” I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and, a few seconds later, the sobs of a child. Mick looked up from the floor in shock.

“Did you hear that?” he asked me.

“The thunder, or the kid crying?”

“The kid crying!” I nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it too. Why?”

“Because we need to go help that kid!” he replied. I rolled my eyes.

“Mick, we’re here to get rich, not help some kid.” Mick ignored me and pulled me in the direction of the crying sound, despite my attempts to break free from his grasp. We had gotten halfway across the living room when we saw a little girl. Her hair was in...uh, ringlets, I think they’re called?-and her dress came down to the floor. She was crying (of course) and Mick went over to her.

“Hey, there, little one. Are you lost?” he asked gently. I thought about leaving Mick with the girl and continuing to search for loot, but there was something about the little girl that made it impossible for me to pull away, and NOT in a “she’s so small and helpless” way. Mick reached out to put his hand on the girl’s shoulder-and his hand went straight through her! My knees went weak under me, and then the world went black. When I came to, I found myself on a dusty couch. I looked around the room and saw Mick waving good-bye to the vanishing ghost.

“Oh, hey, Mark. Glad to see you up-although there wasn’t really a reason for you to faint like that. Georgia was just worried that we were gonna hurt her doll. When I told her we weren’t, she cheered right up and went away,” he said cheerfully.

“The ghost has a name? And is friendly?” I asked. Mick nodded.

“I don’t even think she knew she was dead. Poor little thing,” he said, and I sighed in relief.

“In that case, let’s get back to work. If she’s the only ghost here, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said. (Famous last words.) With that, the two of us continued our search of the living room.

Trickster: The Piper and I- James Jesse, con artist extraordinaire-decided to investigate the attic. I’m a horror movie junkie, so if I’m breaking into a haunted house, what better place to get that adrenaline rush than the attic? Piper and I climbed three sets of narrow, creaky, cracked, cobwebby stairs to the attic (although Piper got winded halfway up the second flight and I had to drag him up the last one). Then I opened the door to see lots of cobwebs, a shattered mirror, a broken window, an old, rusted bedframe, some old-fashioned cabinets, a sword, an old rocking horse (sadly, it was too small for me), and a bunch of other old stuff. The roof was low, and it was really dark. My heart pounded, but in a good way.

“This is so much better than the fake haunted houses! We should go here every year!” I exclaimed. Piper swept his flashlight from left to right, and then started examining the boring knick knacks that were lying around. I pulled out a yo-yo and some bubble gum and waited eagerly for the walls to start dripping blood. After about two minutes, Piper pulled a stack of old papers out of one of the cabinet drawers.

“James, these are from the Civil War!” he exclaimed excitedly. I yawned.

“So?” I asked. Piper looked shocked.

“James, these are valuable historical documents! If they’re really as old as they look, they could provide priceless information about the role of Central City in the Civil War!”

“Can they summon a ghost?” Piper sighed.

“No. They cannot.” I blew a particularly large bubble.

“Then I’m not interested. Let’s find something that CAN summon a ghost!” Piper rolled his eyes.

“James, you’re not going to find something that can summon a ghost, because ghosts-” Suddenly, the windows rattled and we heard a loud moan.

“Don’t exist?” Piper squeaked. Five seconds later, a transparent man with a noose around his neck appeared and floated towards us. Piper screamed and bolted down the stairs, and I whooped with joy and followed him, narrowly missing the ghost’s clammy hands.

“Catch me if you can, you stupid ghost!” I yelled. I followed the Piper to the second floor and into a spooky old bathroom, complete with dusty mirror, a big tub with clawed feet, a broken toilet, and a sink. Mold was growing in the sink and on the walls, and I grinned. This day just kept getting better and better! Piper slammed the door and locked it behind us.His chest was heaving and he looked exhausted. (Rich kids don’t have much reason to be athletic.)

“You were saying?” I asked ‘sweetly’. Piper gave me a death glare.

“NOT the time!” Piper said. I laughed.

“Do you really think a locked door will keep out a ghost? It can’t even keep us out!” I asked him. Piper’s face went white, and he ran over to the dirty mirror.

“Sam! McCulloch! Get us home now!” he yelled. There was no response.

“Piper, you know the Mirror Realm doesn’t work that way. You can only talk to them through it if they want you to, and if they haven’t had the good luck to run into a ghost, they won’t be able to guess that you might want them to pick us up.” I said as I played with my yo-yo. Piper whimpered and buried his head in his hands, then started muttering incomprehensibly as I whistled merrily.

“How can you be so happy?” Piper demanded after a few minutes.I grinned.

“Kid, we’re being chased by a real, honest-to-goodness ghost! It doesn’t get more awesome than that!” Just then, the ghost drifted through the door, and I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures as Piper screamed.

“We’regoingtodiewe’regoingtodiewe’regoingto die !” He darted to the door, fumbled with the lock, and opened it just as the ghost brushed his clammy fingers against his back. He screamed louder and ran down the hall. I snapped a few more photos, stuck my tongue out at the ghost,and followed Piper. The ghost roared angrily and flew after me. I caught up with Piper after about a minute and lead him into a dumbwaiter, then slammed the door behind us.

“James, how is this closet preferable to hiding in the bathroom? The ghost can still walk through walls!” Piper demanded.

“Piper, YOU’RE the one who had all the servants. Shouldn’t you know what a dumbwaiter is?”

“I know what a dumbwaiter is,I have just never seen one before. I was not allowed to spend time with the servants.You can hardly blame me for mistaking it for a closet. Besides, my point still stands: why would hiding in here keep us safe from the ghost?” I laughed.

“Piper, that ghost is Robert Jackson, who hung himself because he wasn’t rich anymore and gave up the love of his life for money! Entering the dumbwaiter that the servants used would be beneath him. As long as we’re in here, we’re safe. For a guy who’s college educated, you sure are stupid,” I explained. Piper frowned.

“You were taking selfies with the ghost, and I’M stupid?” he yelled. I smiled “innocently”.

“I never said I wasn’t stupid...but I’m not a graduate from Harvard, either. But I knew how to save us from the ghost, and you didn’t,” I replied. Hartley sighed wearily.

“Whatever you say, James...but how did you know what a dumbwaiter is? You thought that the American Civil War started in 1961 until last month, so you cannot have known about them from history, and you were not wealthy, so you cannot have had servants who used one,” he asked.

“My Nonna Gianna was a maid for a wealthy family in Italy when she was a girl, and she used a dumbwaiter when she worked for them,” I explained.

“Wait...you’re Italian?” Hartley asked.

“Sí. Well, Italian-American, anyhow.My paternal grandparents immigrated from Italy in 1935 after Mussolini took over and invaded Ethiopia. When they got to America, they joined the Big Circus because my Nonno Antonio had been an acrobat in Italy. They had a whole lot of kids, and my dad was the youngest. He was born in 1955, and he married my mother, who was a second-generation Italian immigrant herself, in 1980. I was born eight years later,” I explained.

“But your name is James Jesse! That doesn’t sound remotely Italian!” Hartley protested.

“Hel-lo! My nonni were Italian immigrants performing for the American public at the height of World War II! They took stage names: Jesse for the last name, and Rosie and Jared for their first names. By the end of the war, they’d gotten so famous under the Jesse name that they couldn’t really change it back to their real one, so they just kept the stage name. My dad’s real name was Alessandro, but he called himself Jacob. My mother’s name really was Helen, though, because her parents had given her an American name. My real name’s actually Giovanni Giuseppe. How’s that for a mouthful?” I exclaimed.

“Sai parlare italiano?” Piper asked.

“Nonni, nonna, nonno, pizza, spaghetti, Venice, Rome, sí, il Dulche, Mamma Mia, madre, padre, nipote, figlia, figlio,Ti amo, caro, Coinvolgimi, bella noche, Dov'è la birra? That’s all the Italian I know. Well, that and a lot of swear words,” I replied.

“En d’autres termes, tu sais autant d’italien comme vous le français?” Piper asked. I looked at him oddly.

“English?”

“So, in other words, you know as much Italian as you do French?” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much. Not everyone can afford tutors for twenty languages,” I said.

“I only speak six languages-Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese, and I can only write in the first four. I’m passable in Arabic and Russian, too, but I’d hardly say I can speak twenty languages.” I grinned evilly.

“Let’s go find some more ghosts!” I exclaimed.

“No! I’m staying right here, where it’s safe,” Piper yelled.

“Spoilsport,” I said. I started using my yo-yo again.

Captain Cold: So, as I guess you already know, I ended up partnered with Captain Koala, because he and Roscoe insisted on being stubborn morons. I wanted to look for the safe, but Digger insisted that we go to the kitchen because he was hungry, and, since Digger seems to have an immunity to food poisoning, I figured it would probably be safe to let him eat 85-year-old food, and feeding him would get him to shut his big mouth besides. Digger, who practically has an internal homing device for food, found the kitchen in about a minute flat. The kitchen was dusty, covered in cobwebs, and filled with a lot of rusted-out junk, and it was so dark that, without my flashlight, I don't think I would've been able to see two feet in front of me. It was a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie. But I don’t scare easy, so I started pawing around for valuables while Digger found the world’s oldest box of crackers and started digging in. I found a bunch of silver spoons and shoved them into my bag…and then something weird happened. A really attractive lady appeared out of basically nowhere and walked right through me like she couldn’t even see me. It felt like when I accidentally shot myself with my cold gun, and I frowned. Ghosts weren’t supposed to exist. However, I had business to do, so I ignored the ghost lady and went back to my work. Digger, on the other hand, didn’t take the ghost so well. He let out a string of Australian swear words, yelled something about a “ghost sheila” (knowing him, it was probably the exact opposite of polite), grabbed his crackers, and started to run. I grabbed him by his scarf before he could exit the room.

“Let me go, you bloody loon! You’ve got kangaroos loose in your top paddock if you want to stay here with a ghost, Cold!” Digger yelled.

“Stop freaking out, Digger. She doesn’t have any weapons, she’s not dripping blood, and she’s not bad to look at besides. Just ignore her. We have work to do.” Digger looked closer at the ghost and grinned.

“Bloody oath! She is a beautiful Sheila, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I just said that. Now get to work.” I said. Digger ignored me and walked over to the ghost.

“G’day, Sheila. I’m Captain George Harkness of the Australian Secret Service. Who are you?” he asked. (He tells every girl he takes a fancy to that he worked/works for the Australian Secret Service. It’d be a great pick up line if it wasn’t a total lie.) I rolled my eyes as I helped myself to some fine china plates. Was Digger seriously hitting on a ghost?

“Is Australia a northern state, Master Harkness?” the ghost asked. She sounded terrified, and had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Digger laughed.

“Oz? In the North? Sheila, it’s called the Land Down Under for a reason,” he replied. The ghost looked terrified and started to cry. I tried valiantly to ignore the sound and shoved the remainder of the china into my bag.

“What’re you crying for, Sheila?” Digger asked, sounding annoyed.

“B-b-because if you a Southern soldier, you gonna take me and my baby back to slavery!” I noticed that she was, indeed, carrying a baby and grimaced. I did NOT have time for dealing with this crud. Digger walked back over to me.

“I didn’t notice she had an anklebiter. She’s a lovely sheila, but not enough for me to want to be a daddy. And why’s she wailing about slavery?” he asked.

“How should I know? I dropped out of high school at 14, and I don’t have many dealings with ghosts,” I replied in annoyance as the ghost’s wailings got louder. She moved rapidly toward Digger and fell on her knees.

“Please, don’t take my baby, Master Harkness. Let him be free, please, please!” she begged. Digger shot me a pleading look, and I sighed wearily. How did Digger get himself-and me- into these situations?

“Look, lady, we don’t want you or your baby. Now go on, shoo. You and the kid are free, and “Master Harkness” and I have business to do,” I said. The ghost stared.

“Ain’t you Confederate soldiers?” she asked, obviously confused.. Digger and I looked at each other in equal confusion.

“What’s a Confederate?” Digger asked the ghost.

“They’s the soldiers who be fighting to make their own country,” she replied.

“What’s she talking about?” Digger asked me. I shrugged.

“The Civil War…..I think,” I said, drawing desperately from my memories of 8th grade history.

“You mean the war you Yanks had between each other? What’s that gotta do with this sheila?” I racked my brains for any connection between the two and wished that I hadn’t chosen 8th grade history as the class to sleep through.

“Um...she was talking about slavery…I think the South had slaves...probably….and that was maybe why the war started? Possibly? And-and since you said you were from the South, and she’s probably about as well-educated as we are, she didn’t realize that you meant you were from another continent entirely, and so she thought that you were gonna want to make her a slave again,” I said, feeling pretty proud of myself for figuring all that out.

“Didja hear that, Sheila? I’m not a Confederate, whatever that means! Australia’s an island. It ain’t part of America. Now, it’s London to the brick that I’m dangerous, so you probably wanna steer clear of me, but I’m not gonna be taking you to slavery, neither. And, hey, if you got any single friends without anklebiters,, tell ‘em t’ look up Captain Harkness, will ya?” Digger told her cheerfully.

“I..I’m free?” she asked quietly.

“As a bird. Now get outta here. You’re safe in this city,” I told her flatly.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!” she said. She kissed her baby, and they passed through the kitchen wall and vanished into thin air. As soon as she was gone, I glared at Digger.

“Okay, now that you’re done hitting on a ghost, can we get back to work, please?” I asked.

“If you want to, that’s fair dinkum. I’m gonna go back to my chips,” Digger said. He tried to walk back to the table, but I grabbed him by the scarf before he could and forced him to clear out the rest of the valuables while I took a smoke break. He swore colorfully in Australian the entire time, but I ignored him. He was just packing the last of the chinaware away when another ghost, this one holding a gun, showed up. One look at him told me that we were in trouble, and so I ran out of the room, Digger hot on my heels.

Golden Glider: So, while Mick and Marky-Mark were in the living room, James and Hartley were running around like lunatics, and Lenny and Digger were running away from history as much as they were running away from ghosts, Roscoe and I had decided to investigate the backyard. It contained a rotting porch and a small cemetery, one which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. It was quite dark, because there were no porch lights, but that just made it all the more romantic. As soon as we left the house, I snuggled up close against Roscoe and we both sat down on the one intact porch step. “Isn’t the darkness so romantic?” I asked him. He looked puzzled, and it was adorable. “I believe that the darkness is the absence of light, my darling,” he said. I tittered. “You’re so funny, Roscoe,” I cooed. He smiled. “I am glad I have pleased you, sweetums,” he said. A cloud moved and revealed the moon, big and red and lovely. I pointed at it in excitement. “Roscoe, look at the moon! Isn’t it beautiful? Doesn’t it remind you of us?” I asked. Roscoe looked concerned. “My darling, the moon is a celestial body that revolves around the Earth. I do not see how it can remind you of us. Did no one teach you about the nature of the moon? It is not a human being,” he said. I sighed; having forgotten how literal Roscoe can be. “Roscoe, dear, I was speaking figuratively. I said it was like us because it’s beautiful, just like we are,” I explained. Roscoe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “I see. Forgive my confusion, my darling,” he said. I kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, honey,” I replied. He kissed me on my cheek, and then I kissed him full on the lips. We were still embracing five minutes later, when a young girl in a white dress appeared. She was completely transparent, and stared at us in silence for a few seconds. “Are you lovers?” she asked quietly. “We are indeed, and my Lisa is a goddess among women,” Roscoe replied. Her face fell, and then twisted into fury. “How dare you flaunt your happiness in front of the grave of a poor rejected woman? Is it not enough that I was rejected by my Robert? Is it not enough that I killed myself of despair? Must I be mocked by your love as well? For your impudence, I will make you suffer as I have suffered!” she screamed. She moved over to Roscoe, kissed him on the lips (please don’t ask me HOW) and then disappeared. Roscoe shoved me off his lap violently and stood up. “Get off of me, you wretch!” he spat. The words felt like a blow. “R-R-Roscoe, what….what’s wrong?” Roscoe had never talked to me like that before, and in that moment I saw Lewis-my “father”-in his face. “You are what is wrong! I am a gentleman, and you-you are common trash. Why I was mad enough to kiss you I’ll never understand!” Roscoe said coldly. “What are you saying?” I asked. “I am saying that I have had enough of dating a welfare queen,” Roscoe replied. Normally, I would have struck back, but I was so bewildered by his behavior that I just stared at him. After a few seconds, he scowled. “What are you staying for, you pathetic wretch? Leave me!” he ordered, and I found my tongue. “No, Roscoe. I am staying right here with you. You may not think you love me anymore, but you will not drive me away. I won’t give you the pleasure of ordering me around like a dog,” I said. “Why not? You are a dog,” Roscoe spat. I moved to slap him, but before I could, we were interrupted by another ghost, this one wielding a old-timey gun, who charged at us. I kicked at the ghost on impulse, but, of course, it went straight through him. While I was distracted, Roscoe abandoned me, but after I regained my balance, I rushed after him and we went into the dining room. “Stop chasing me, you hussy!” he yelled. “I’m not chasing you, I’m running away from the ghost,” I said. As if on cue, the ghost lifted a table and threw it at Roscoe’s head. I pushed him out of the way and narrowly avoided being hit myself. “Why did you save me? It will not make me love a woman like you,” he demanded harshly. This time, I did slap him. “You’re welcome,” I spat. Roscoe frowned. “You dare lay a hand on a gentleman?” he demanded. Before he could continue, however, the ghost levitated all six chairs in the room, and so I grabbed him and pulled him into the hallway. A series of loud crashes followed almost immediately. “I notice that you don’t complain when I touch you in order to save your life,” I said pointedly. Roscoe sniffed haughtily and didn’t reply. Under normal circumstances, I would have led us to the door and left the house, but with Roscoe acting so strangely, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave only for Roscoe to keep treating me like dirt, so I decided to stay and take charge of the situation. “All right, so where do we go from here?” I asked. Roscoe scowled. “‘We’ are not going anywhere. Have I not made my disdain for you utterly clear? I am going to one of the bedrooms to go to sleep, and you-I care not where you go, so long as you stay away from me,” he said. I shook my head firmly. “No, we’re staying together. Even if you really do hate me, from a logical standpoint you’re obviously safer with me around,” I replied. Roscoe pondered this for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. We will stick together. However, let me make one thing clear: I do not love you. Our current predicament does not change that,” he said, and I felt my heart break. I slapped him again and said, “Fine! See if I care!” With that, I pulled Roscoe up the stairs to the second floor and into one of the bedrooms, which contained an canopy bed, a broken window, an old armorie, and a painting of a handsome young man. The plaque beneath it read "Robert Jackson, beloved son". It was a picture of the man who had spurned his lover. How appropriate. Roscoe laid down on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately (he is definitely not a night owl) and I started crying. How had this perfectly romantic night gone so badly awry?

Mirror Master II: After a quick trip through the Mirror Realm, Scudder and I arrived in the basement. It was awfy dark doon there, I’m nae gonna lie, but the way Scudder was reacting, you’d have thought it was a torture chamber. He was jumping at every little sound and keeping so close tae me that I was practically tripping over him. After aboot a minute of that, I got fed up with him and decided tae tell him tae grow a spine.

“Stop acting like a wean, will ye? It’s hard eno to move doon here without having tae avoid you,” I told him. He moved about an inch further away.

“If we run into a ghost, I’m feeding you to it,” he muttered. I laughed and started looking for trinkets, while he stayed right next tae the stairs. After a few minutes, I uncovered an emerald ring.

“This is worth something, int it no?” I asked happily. Scudder shrugged.

“Great, you’ve found your prize. Now let’s get out of here!” he said.

“Not yet! I need a bigger haul than this!” I replied. Scudder frowned.

“Look here, you second-rate Mirror Master. I am not about to have my brain turned into soup by a ghost just so that you can sell two rings instead of one. We’re going upstairs now,” he said.

“Who are ye calling a second-rate Mirror Master? I use the Mirror Realm better than ye ever could, ye minger!” I yelled.

“You don’t even know how it works. You just swiped my equipment, you Glaswegian thug!” Scudder replied. Then I punched him, and he punched me, and we got into a fist fight. He was trying tae get oot of my stranglehold when soomthing weird happened: a ghostie showed up. You ken those drawings of fat rich people? It looked like that. I was so surprised that I let Scudder go, and he screamed like a lassie and dove intae the Mirror Realm. Me? I just froze. I didnae have a clue how to fight a ghostie, so I did soomthing pure stupid: I waved at it! The ghostie levitated a lamp and threw it at me head, only narrowly missing me. I dove intae the mirror after Scudder. He was panicking.

“I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die; please don’t let me die please please please don’t let me die!”

“Calmy doony, Scudder. The ghostie canae come intae the Mirror Realm,” I said. Ten seconds later, the ghostie came intae the Mirror Realm.

“You just had to say it!” Scudder wailed.

“Dinae just stand there, run!” I yelled. Both of us took off running, and only stopped when the ghostie vanished. I grinned.

“We did it! We escaped the ghostie!” I yelled. Scudder smiled slightly, but then he looked around and his smile vanished.

“Oh, no. This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad,” he said.

“What do ye mean? We escaped from the ghostie!” I replied.

“Look around you! Do you recognize any of this?” I looked around, and realized that we were in big trouble: I didnae recognize anything around me, and I ken most of the Mirror Realm like the back of my hand.

“We’re lost,” I said.

“No duh, really? I had no idea,” Scudder replied sarcastically. I tried tae punch him for that, but he dodged me swing.

“I don’t see why you’re punching at me. I was against coming to the creepy ghost house from the start, and if we had stayed home and watched A Nightmare on Elm Street like I suggested, we wouldn’t be in this mess! But did you-or anyone-listen to me? Oh, no! “Ghosts don’t exist, Sam.” “Stop being such a wimp, Scudder.” “We’ll be fine.” “Stop being such an idiot, Scudder.” Well, WHO’S THE IDIOT NOW?” he yelled hysterically, and I wished that Captain Cold hadnae put me with him, because he looked downright loony.

“Ah am, all right? Now help me find a way oot of here!” Sam laughed weakly.

“Find a way out of the Mirror Realm? You might as well tell me to beat Superman in a fist fight. It’s impossible. There’s a reason that I never go out of sight of the mirror portals: the Mirror Realm is so vast that if you get lost, you’ll probably never find your way back to them-and they’re our only way out of the Mirror Realm. I can’t get us out without the portals, and, thanks to you, Len, and that ghost, I have no idea where they are. Heck, I don’t even know where WE are!” he exclaimed.

“The Land of Abstract Art, mebbe?” I suggested. We were surrounded by swirls of colors and strange shapes, ye ken? Scudder didnae seem to find that as funny as I’d thought it was.

“Really? We’re lost in a never-ending mirror maze, and you’re cracking jokes?” I shrugged.

“Aye. Beats whining aboot it, ye jerrie.” To tell the truth, I was just as freaked out as Scudder was, but I wasnae about to let him know it.

“You’re a lunatic,” he spat.

“Ah am’nae!” I yelled back. I punched him, he punched me, and we ended up in another fistfight that only ended when both of us collapsed from exhaustion. Apparently, all the running had taken a lot oot of us. Scudder basically ended up falling asleep on my lap, and I was too tired to move him. After aboot a minute of embarrassment, I fell asleep tae.

Heat Wave: Hi, there. I’m Mick Rory, but you can call me Heat Wave. Everyone does. So, uh, while everyone else was running away from angry ghosts, Weather Wizard and I were still searching for valuables, and not finding any. After about an hour of searching, I got bored, pulled out my flamethrower, and lit the sofa on fire. It was beautiful and pretty and warm, and I decided to touch it. Bad idea, because I was still wearing the tutu, and..well...tutus are really flammable. The fire didn’t exactly hurt me (the prison doc tells me my skin’s so badly burned by this point that it doesn’t feel pain anymore), but it did freak out Weather Wizard, who doused me (and the sofa) with what felt like a gallon of water.

“Hey! You put out my beautiful sofa fire!” I complained. The Wiz scowled.

“In case you didn’t notice, YOU were on fire, too!” he said angrily.

“And now I’m sopping wet AND don’t have my precious fire. I don’t see how that’s an improvement,” I replied. In response, the Wiz beaned me over the head with his wand. (He doesn’t have a good swing, so it didn’t really hurt.)

“Being wet doesn’t kill you, you big oaf! You know what does? BEING ON FIRE!” His face was red and his eyes were crackling with electricity, so I knew he was pretty upset. Because he can create tornadoes, I decided to apologize.

“You’re right, Mark, and I’m sorry. Thanks for saving me,” I said. His eyes stopped crackling.

“Just don’t do it again,” he said. I nodded and sat down on what was left of the sofa, and Wiz went over to the window and gazed out of it.

“A storm’s brewing,” he said. I don’t think he was trying to sound spooky, but with his tone of voice and his witch costume, he did. A few seconds later, lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Wiz opened the window and leaned out. The wind whipped his (impossibly spiky) hair, and he stared at something in silence. After a few seconds, it got creepy, and so I went over to him and dragged him away from the window. I closed it as soon as he wasn’t in the way.

“Come on, Mark, let’s go to another room. Captain Cold’ll be mad if we don’t find something valuable,” I said. When he didn’t move, I picked him up, threw him over my shoulder, and took him up the stairs and into a bedroom which looked like it might have belonged to a little kid at some point, since there were a bunch of old toys in it. One of the windows was broken, and everything, including the toys, a rocking chair, and a crib, was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was very spooky, although it was in better shape overall than the living room had been. I started looking for something valuable, and the Wiz made a beeline for the window.

“Hey, knock that off! Just ‘cause you’re the Weather Wizard doesn’t mean that you get to look at the weather and not help me!” I said. Wiz turned around and locked eyes with me.

“The storm...it’s an ill wind that blows no good,” he muttered. It was almost like he was in a trance or something. And then it happened: a ghost appeared. Now, it wasn’t super gory-really, it just looked like a transparent teenager-but let me tell you: it was scarier than anything I’ve ever seen in a horror movie. At almost the same time, it started to rain heavily. The Wiz passed out again, and the ghost advanced on me. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (what? I saw Shakespeare on TV one time), threw the Wiz over my shoulder, and ran downstairs and out of the house with him. (Question: Why is it that he was WAY heavier when he was unconscious than when he was conscious?) I wanted to make Captain Cold happy, but I wasn’t gonna fight a ghost just for some loot. As soon as we got out the door, the ghost stopped following us, so I dumped the Wiz on the ground and began what proved to be a LONG wait for the Mirror Masters to come pick us up. Wiz woke up about five minutes after we got out of the house and cleared up the rain (thank goodness), then took a look at me and smiled.

“You should see yourself. Your tutu’s unrecognizable and I can see your underwear,” he said. I felt my cheeks heat up. Man, that was embarrassing.

“Yeah, well, you fainted twice, so I think we’re even,” I replied. The Wiz flushed, and looked at the ground. A few seconds later, he yawned, then produced a wind that dried up the ground.

“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when Scudder shows up,” he said. With that, he curled up on the ground and dozed off. After a couple seconds, I sat down next to him, and, after a few minutes of trying and failing to come up with an excuse for not finding any loot, I dozed off too. (One of the benefits of being….less than legally employed is that you learn to fall asleep anywhere.) I woke up about twenty minutes later when the Wiz poked me in the side with his wand.

“Huh?” I asked drowsily.

“Where are the Mirror Masters at? Surely they’ve gotta be finished by now,” he whined. I shrugged.

“Maybe they’re still looking for stuff. Or maybe they hit the jackpot and are still gathering up all the stuff they found,” I suggested.

“Well, they better hurry up. I’m bored and tired and I want to get back to my nice soft bed,” the Wiz replied.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” I said. Then I fell back to sleep and was dead to the world for another forty minutes.

Pied Piper: After being trapped in the dumbwaiter for about ten minutes, I turned off my hearing aids. Not being able to hear is never a pleasant experience, but it was highly preferable to listening to a bored Trickster sing “This Is the Song That Never Ends” again and again and again. This solution worked reasonably well until I realized that I very much needed to use the powder room and needed advice as to how to do so without attracting the nightmare creature that wanted to devour my internal organs. Therefore, I had to turn my hearing aids back on, because none of the other Rogues have ever bothered to learn sign language and I had no desire to play charades. As soon as my hearing turned back on, I was greeted with what must have been the fortieth rendition of “This is the Song That Never Ends”.

“James. James. JAMES! I, um, need to use the powder room. Do you have any idea as to how I can do that without meeting the ghost?”

“Depends. What’s a powder room?” He batted his eyes and smiled in the most irritating manner imaginable.

“You know full well what a powder room is!” I exclaimed. James’ smile grew wider as he shook his head.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need, Piper,” he said. I sighed and gave in.

“It’s a restroom,” I said, blushing terribly. James laughed and did a particularly impressive trick with his yo-yo.

“Oh, so you need to pee! Why didn’t you say so?” he asked.

“Because my parents did not allow me to discuss bodily functions in public. Ever,” I replied.

“Did your parents allow you to breathe without their say-so?” I frowned. My parents had indeed controlled my days down to the second before they disowned me, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I said,

“Never mind that. Just tell me how to use the powder room without getting killed!”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll close my eyes, and you can do your business in here,” James replied. As I did not have access to a mirror, I cannot be sure about this, but I believe that I blushed even harder.

“No!”

“Why not? You can even blindfold me if you want. Believe me, I do NOT want to watch that,” James replied. I scowled.

“Because that is disgusting, James.”

“I don’t see why. It’s what we did in the circus,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“This is not the circus!”

“Well, it isn’t exactly Rathaway manor, either. I’m not saying that it isn’t gross, but this place is in bad condition already. You can’t make it much worse,” James replied.

“I think I would rather face the ghost,” I said. James laughed.

“I can’t believe that you’re more scared of breaking your parents’ rules of being “proper” and pretending that you don’t have bodily functions than you are of a literal ghost,” he said.

“This has nothing to do with my parents!”

“Somebody’s in de-ni-al!” James singsonged.

“I’m not in denial. Just because I do not want to be Digger does not mean that this has anything to do with my parents,” I insisted.

“Yep, definitely in denial,” James said. I ignored him and pulled out the mirror that I had brought with me in order to contact the Mirror Masters.

“Sam! McCulloch! If you can hear me, I need you to get me-and James-out of this house!” Nothing happened, and I sighed wearily. There went that idea. About three minutes later, I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the doors nervously and, not seeing anything, bolted down the hall to the powder room, used it, and was on my way back when the ghost reappeared. I screamed like a little girl (which is quite humiliating in hindsight) and just froze up in terror. If I had been alone, I don’t want to know what would have happened next, but, luckily for me, James showed up at exactly this point and yelled,

“Hey, Casper! Over here, you preposterous poltergeist!” The ghost howled and started chasing him, and he whooped with glee and ran down the hall in the direction of the staircase. Thirty seconds later, I heard a loud cry of pain from James. I bolted to the top of the stairs and saw that one of the steps had given way under James, and that he had clearly broken his ankle. Worse, the ghost was floating over top of him, and, for the first time, he looked scared. I stared at the scene for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then pulled out my flute and started playing it in the desperate hope that its hypnotic powers would work on a ghost. I tried to ignore the fact that my knees were shaking under me as I played, and, after a few seconds, the ghost stopped howling and floated away from James. I carefully went down the stairs to my partner, still playing, then knelt down beside him and put the flute away.

“Do NOT do that again! You scared the daylights out of me!” I snapped. James smiled.

“Aww, you do care,” he said. All his fear seemed to be forgotten and I shook my head in amazement. He had almost been killed (possessed?) by a ghost, and he was already making jokes.

“I did owe you. After all, if you had not attracted the ghost’s attention, I might have been killed. How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“It hurts like the dickens,” he replied.

“Can you walk?” James stood up shakily, winced, and quickly sat back down, then smiled and said,

“I can walk on my hands!” He proceeded to demonstrate. In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

“Can you keep that up long enough to get to the front door?” I asked him after I stopped laughing.

“Probably. Why?”

“Because we are leaving. I don’t know how long my hypnosis will last, but it will wear off eventually, and I do not want to be here when it does,” I explained.

“Aww, but I wanted to see some more ghosts!”

“Can you run on your hands?” I asked. James grinned slightly.

“Maybe?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Let’s go. We can watch The Shining when we get home if you want,” I said. (It’s James’ favorite horror movie, and very useful as a bribe.) James’ grin widened.

“You know me well, Piper. Let’s go home,” he said. With that, we left the house-only to find Mick and Mark asleep on the lawn; Mick in little more than his underwear.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” James said.

“What, Mick and Mark sleeping on the lawn or Mick in his underwear?” I asked.

“Both, but mainly Mick in his underwear. That’s an image I’ll never get out of my mind,” he replied.

“Me, neither,” I agreed. After a few seconds, James sat down on the ground and pulled out a pack of bubble gum.

“I swallowed my gum when that step broke under me. Want some gum?” he asked.

“I suppose,” I replied. James handed me a stick of gum and then took out one for himself as well. I sat down next to him, unwrapped the stick of gum, and started chewing it. James blew a huge bubble.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Blow bubbles? Haven’t you ever had bubble gum before?” he asked. I shook my head.

“My parents said that gum was for plebeians,” I replied.

“Well, if they really did cut you off, you are one now, so that shouldn’t be a concern anymore,” he said. I smiled.

“You have a point. So, carnie, how about teaching this ex-patrician how to properly blow bubbles with bubble gum?” I asked.

“You’re on!” James exclaimed.

Captain Boomerang: I hate all the bloody ghosts in that bloody ghost house! (I also hate Cold for making me go into the ghost house, but that’s beside the point.) After Cold and I ran out of the kitchen, the ghost chased us through several rooms and to the basement stairs. We exchanged a brief look and ran down the stairs into the basement.

“If that bloody ghost follows us, I’m gonna be as mad as a cut snake,” I said. I was tired of all the running, tired of risking my life, and even more tired of not getting to eat my chips.

“I think he’s stopped chasing us,” Cold said as he looked around. Then he gasped.

“What is it?” I demanded. Cripes, I need a coolie , I thought.

“The Mirror Masters...at least one of them left their Mirror Gun here. It’s their only way back into our dimension. They’d never leave it here.”

“Well, if they’ve carked it, there’s nothin’ we can do. Let’s take our loot and leave this spooky place before another ghost shows up!” I said. I thought that I’d made a good point, but Cold disagreed and punched me in the face.

“We don’t have any proof that they’re dead, so we’re goin’ in after them. They’re too valuable to lose, and besides, the Rogues don’t abandon their own,” he said. Cold activated the portal to the Mirror Realm and dragged me inside by the scarf. As soon as I got inside, I had a sickie and vomited all over the floor.

“Scudder? McCulloch? It’s Cold. Where are you?” Cold yelled. No answer. I stopped vomiting and looked around, then noticed something shiny. I went over to it and discovered that it was an emerald ring.

“Cold, have a Captain Cook at this! We’re rich!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at it...and went pale.

“Oh, no….one of the Mirror Masters must have been spooked by something and dropped it-and if they ran that way and were so panicked that they didn’t notice that they dropped a valuable thing like that, then they’re lost in the Mirror Realm,” he said.

“Okay. They’ve carked it. Oh, well. Let’s go home,” I replied. Cold shook his head.

“No. We’re gonna find them,” he said.

“Cold, you just said that they were lost in the Mirror Realm. If THEY got lost, we’ll get lost, too,” I protested. Cold didn’t listen.

“We ain’t gonna get lost, because we’re going to make a trail to follow,” he said. He drew one the spoons out of the bag and placed it on the ground next to his feet. Then he moved about ten feet forward and did the same thing, and did it again about seven feet after that. He’s got kangaroos loose in his top paddock for sure, I thought.

“What are you doin’, Cold?” I demanded.

“I’m making a trail,” he said.

“Outta spoons ?” I asked.

“Didn’t you ever hear the story of Hansel and Gretel?”

“I don’t read fairy tales. They’re for wusses,” I said. Cold scowled.

“Look, I have a little sister, okay? Anyway, Hansel and Gretel didn’t want to get lost in the woods, so they used bread crumbs to mark where they’d been. That way, when they turned around, they’d know which way would take them back to their starting point. This is the same idea, only our markers can’t be eaten by anything,” he said. With that, he started dragging me by my scarf towards the direction he thought the Mirror Masters had taken.

“You know, I can walk on my own,” I said.

“ Maybe so, but if I let you go, you’ll probably be walking towards the exit, so I’m keeping ahold of you to be on the safe side,” Cold replied. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he ignored it. After about twenty minutes of walking, we entered the weirdest place I’d ever seen. There were all these bloody weird shapes and colors, and I couldn't tell which way was up. It freaked me out, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother Cold at all.

“Cold, this is really freaky. Can we go back now? We’ll never find the Mirror Masters in this crazy place,” I said.

“Shut up, Digger. We are going to find them, and we are not going to stop walking until we either do or run out of silverware,” Cold replied.

“Ace!” I muttered sarcastically.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” I lied.

“That’s what I thought.” He dragged me along for about ten more minutes before I opened my big mouth again. (I think that must be some kind of record.)

“Can we stop now ?” My legs were killing me (not to mention my neck)!

“No. Stop acting like a six-year-old,” Cold replied. I really need a coolie, i thought.

“I wouldn’t be actin’ like an anklebiter if you weren’t actin’ like a dictator,” I snapped. Cold punched me in the side and continued to drag me along like a bloody kelpie. After about four more minutes, i decided that I’d had enough of being dragged around and stabbed Cold in the arm with one of my razor-sharp boomerangs. He swore in pain and let me go, and I grabbed the mirror gun and ran towards the exit. Sadly for me, Cold managed to bean me over the head with a plate and knocked me out. When I came to, I awoke to see a pair of unconscious Mirror Masters. Normally, I would’ve been crosser than a frog in a sock that Cold had knocked me out, but at the moment I was too glad that Cold wouldn’t be dragging me through the Mirror Realm anymore to really care.

“You little Ripper! You found them!” I exclaimed happily.

“No thanks to you,” Cold muttered. He shook McCulloch awake.

“Cold? How did ye get in here?” he asked.

“Either you or Sam dropped your Mirror Gun outside of the mirror in the basement, and I used it to get in here,” Cold explained.

“But how did ye find us?”

“Stubbornness, mainly,” Cold replied. I laughed.

“That’d be right!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at McCulloch oddly.

“Why is Sam sleeping in your lap?” Cold asked.

“ WHAT? ” McCulloch yelled. He quickly moved Sam off his lap and stood up. This woke Sam up, for obvious reasons. Once he realized what had happened, he noticed Cold, gave him a huge hug, and then punched him in the face.

“I’m...getting some mixed messages here,” Cold said.

“I’m happy you found us, because I thought we were going to die here, but I’m about equally angry at you, because you wouldn’t have had to rescue us if you hadn’t decided to take us to the creepy ghost house in the first place,” Sam explained. I laughed. It’s always good to see Cold get taken down a peg, the arrogant knocker.

“I do nae see why you being here is a good thing. We do nae ken how to get back to the Mirror Portals from here, we’ll all die here,” McCulloch said.

“Actually, we won’t. I marked the path we took from the portals with our loot, so we’ll able to get back fine,” Cold replied. McCulloch grinned, and my stomach growled.

“Can we go home now? I’m hungry,” I asked.

“Ye and me both, Digger,” McCulloch said. Cold nodded.

“Let’s get back to our reality,” he said. With that, we started the long walkabout back to the Mirror Portals.

Top: My nap lasted precisely twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds. Then I awoke to see Lisa crying quietly. Normally, I would have felt horrible upon seeing such a sight, but at the time, I simply felt disgusted.

"Stop sniveling, you piece of gutter trash. I will not be moved by your feminine wiles,” I spat. (I have since apologized profusely for this comment, and for all others made under the influence of the ghost, but my darling Lisa is still distrustful of me, and her brother would have beat me to within an inch of my life for them had she not stopped him.)

“All right. I WILL stop crying. I should have known better than to show weakness in front of a man who’s just like my father,” she replied angrily. If I had been myself, I would have been horrified by this accusation, but as I was, I merely sniffed dismissively.

“I am nothing like your father. He was an alcoholic boor who lived off of welfare for most of his life, and I am a gentleman,” I said haughtily.

“And yet you’re calling me names just like he did,” Lisa replied. (In hindsight, her self-confidence was quite admirable, but at the time, I found it irritating.)

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped, unable to refute her argument.

“And let you walk all over me? I don’t think so,” Lisa said. Furious, I raised my hand to slap her, but thankfully, the Civil War-era ghost interrupted us before I could. Lisa grabbed me and pulled me out of the room before the ghost began to levitate anything, thereby saving my life for the third time that night.

“I told you not to touch me!” I said icily. In response, Lisa kissed me on the cheek and I pulled away sharply in utter disgust. (I believe that she was trying to make me uncomfortable in an attempt to snap me back to my senses.)

“I just saved your life again , and you want to complain about me touching you? AGAIN?” she yelled.

“I was aware that we were in danger. There was no need for you to touch me,” I replied coldly. The ghost drifted out of the bedroom we had been in, and the two of us ran to the stairs-only to find that one of the steps had collapsed. Lisa sighed and slid down the banister to the bottom of the stairs, and I reluctantly followed her when the ghost appeared behind me and it became apparent that there was no other means of escape. (We were able to keep our balance because my darling Lisa was a figure skater and I am very resistant to vertigo.) We ran back through the dining room and back into the backyard, and were greeted by a most unusual sight. The ghost who had kissed me was holding hands with another ghost, this one with a noose around his neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re back!” she cooed. The other ghost kissed her.

“Yes, and I’ll never leave you again. I’m so sorry that I abandoned you all those years ago. My father was wrong: you were more important than our money ever could have been,” he said.

‘I forgive you, Robert,” she replied. Lisa started to cry again.

“Oh, shut up, you sniveling hussy! You are too far beneath me to deserve my sympathy,” I said harshly. Lisa frowned and dried her tears rather angrily, then elbowed me in the side.

“Where have you been, Robert?” the female ghost asked.

“I don’t know. All I remember before seeing you tonight was a lot of anger at something,” the other ghost replied. The female ghost embraced him.

“Oh, well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,” she said. They kissed again, and then the female ghost noticed us and frowned.

“Are you the lovers?” she asked.

“Formerly. I thank you profusely for showing me my folly,” I said. Lisa nodded sadly.

“Why do you want to know? You can’t possibly make me any more miserable,” she said. The ghost smiled.

“Because I am going to show you both mercy. Since my happiness has been restored, I will restore your happiness,” she said. She kissed me once again, and all my love for Lisa came flowing back-as did a crushing sense of guilt.

“My darling, I am so sorry for what I said. I don’t know what came over me, but I swear to you that I do not care how rich you are. You are a goddess, and I adore you. Please, please forgive me,” I pleaded. I felt like an utter cad. Lisa frowned.

“R-Roscoe?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, sweetums,” I said. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t , Roscoe. After what you said to me tonight, I just don’t trust you. How can I be sure that you aren’t saying you don’t care that I’m “gutter trash” only because of your hormones? What if two or three years down the line, you don’t find me attractive anymore? Will you still love me, or will I suddenly become a “welfare queen” again? I still love you, but I can’t trust you anymore,” she asked

“You...you are breaking up with me?” I was heartbroken and rather tempted to attack the ghost (if that was even possible), but I could not really blame her.

“I’m not sure. Let’s call it a vacation,” she replied quietly. There was an awkward pause, and then I said,

“In that case, since our date is off, perhaps we should go to the front lawn and wait for the Mirror Masters to take us back to our hideout.” Lisa nodded, and we left the backyard, walked quickly through the house, and made it to the front lawn of the house without issue. Upon arriving, we saw Mark curled up on the lawn, fast asleep, Mick napping in little more than his underwear ( a sight that will haunt me until my dying day), and James and Piper blowing bubble gum. James waved at us.

“Hi there, lovebirds! How was your date?’ If there is one thing that James is the master of, it is saying things at the most inopportune times.

“Badly,” Lisa replied. With that, she left my side and sat down next to Mick. James looked at me quizzically.

“It is a very long story that is frankly none of your business,” I told him. I walked a few feet away from him, sat down, and buried my head in my hands, ashamed of what I had done to the one person in my life I ever cared for. Apparently, I dozed off at some point, because the next thing I remember was the two Mirror Masters arriving alongside Digger and Leonard.

“Look alive, everyone! We’re moving out!” he barked. Five minutes later, we were all back in our hideout (thanks to the Mirror Masters). Lisa immediately ran over to her brother and started sobbing. My stomach twisted with guilt and I looked away.

“Shhh..shh...shhh..Sis, what happened?” In response, Lisa told him the whole story through hiccups and sobs. When she was finished, Leonard marched over to me.

“ Is this true, Dillon?” he demanded.

“Sadly, yes,” I replied awkwardly. In response, Cold punched me so hard he knocked me to the ground.

“Then you’re gonna wish you’d never been born. NO ONE hurts my baby sister,” he snarled. He moved to hit me again, but before he could, Lisa ran over to him and grabbed his arm.

“Lenny, don’ t! He was under the influence of a ghost! It wasn’t all his fault,” she said. Cold scowled, but he walked away anyway as Lisa helped me back to my feet.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Better than I should be after treating you so terribly,” I replied.

“It’s good to to have you back, Roscoe,” she said.

“Does this mean that we’re back on?” I asked eagerly.

“No, Roscoe, I’m afraid not. It’ll probably be awhile before I feel comfortable around you again,” she said. She left me and went upstairs, and I was left to mentally berate myself for my idiocy.

Mirror Master I: And...that was basically it. We managed to get home alive from the creepy ghost house, everyone changed out of their costumes, and most of us, exhausted, went to bed (except James and Piper, who decided to watch The Shining for some reason.) The next morning, Trickster went to the hospital to get his broken ankle treated, and the rest of us decided to never, ever go to any house that was supposed to be haunted again. A week later, the Flash caught Len trying to fence his loot, so he’s in prison again. Lisa still hasn’t forgiven Roscoe, and James’s ankle is still very broken, but otherwise, things are pretty much back to normal for us Rogues. So, with that in mind-we would like to wish you all a Happy Halloween!- What James said.

FIN

#flash rogues #ghosts #dc comics #lisa snart/roscoe dillon #len snart #sam scudder #evan mcculloch #james jesse #hartley rathaway #george digger harknesss #mick rory #mark mardon #fanfic #@gorogues

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flow-green · 4 years

Text

Back with fixing teeth. Had pizza, went for a run.

Last week, a crispy cold one, has finally come to an end and a new one enrolled. Not that I complain, though – I liked the frozen sights and bit more uncomfortable temperatures.

And, as promised, I uploaded my 100 goals for this Year. It was good to write that one, as almost a month has passed and I got my first overview on how I am doing with this.

I was glad to see that my eating habits, weigh-ins and measurement takings are going well and according to new and calm schedule. I only do my weigh-in on Friday, have not taken measurements yet. 90% of the time I eat proper meals, although breakfast is still tricky for me: after waking up for 2-3 hours I have no appetite nor hunger whatsover and when I finally feel that hunger pang kicking it, it’s already a whole busy workday and I do not have the chance to take some time to prepare a healthy breakfast and sit down to actually enjoy it. Thursday was probably the worst day as I had my dentist appointment. I woke up at 7:30, did a turbo make-up, grabbed my coffee mug and water bottle and off to Tallinn I drove. In the capital I had just enough time to get to dentist on time.

Like always, my dentist visit was very enjoyable, but an emotional rollercoaster. Every time I am always prepared for the worst, that my bill will be over 300 euros and a cheap macaroni diet until the end of month will be my reality. I play through these scenarios when receiving the bill I just hurl myself on the ground to do some ugly crying and then destroy my savings account. Do I learn? Never. Every single time the bill is twice or even thrice as low and day goes on as beautiful as ever. So, on some level it is quite welcoming to go there wirh a mentality to be prepared for the worst.

My dentist is just pure amazingness! Long time ago I had a blog writing about my dental health journy from my very first appointment and setting up the health plan up to the very moment I got my braces taken off. At some point the final part was left uncompleted as my financial situation was a bit difficult. But now, as I have successfully managed to pay off my student loan and braces loar and I am no longer renting an appartment, I am back on track and can go on from wherer I left it all. I still have a few teeth to be cured and I need new teeth implantants to fill in the empty holes, left there by my teeth that needed to be pulled out to make more room for braces. So, I am thinking about 2-3k euros more to go. Luckily, this is divided throughout the next year, as every implantant takes its time to heal and gums to be prepared.

Here’s a little reminder on my journey

This saga gave me a proper dose of self-confidence. For example I presented my MA paper with such a high confidence I got a grade higher due to my excellent performance.

Anyway, I have a seriously cool dentist who cured me from my dentist phobia. Okay, I admit, the clinic is above average with slightly crispier prices, but it is all worth it. Rooms are so clean, cozy and they have these TVs in the ceiling where variety of nature documentaries and beautiful pictures of nature are shown. Thus, just relax, enjoy beautiful scenery and forget everything else.

So, I ran straight to dentist from bus station and when I slowly melted to dentist chair, I felt these first stomach rumbles. I was actually glad that I have finally started to notice my empty stomach and not to ignore it. I dreamt about my tasty chickpea omlette and then I remembered: I am not supposed to eat 2 hours after the appointment. And so it happened that when I finally got back to Rakvere and while I was waiting for my boyfriend, I had been without a single calorie for 19 hours. What I hated the most was this silent voice in my hear saying that I am doing good! Almost 20 hours fasted, keep going, you can go without food. But I ignored it and instead, asked the boyfriend where we should go to eat. This was my next challenge: to have someone else pick a place we can go to eat as long as it has a proper selection of vegan foods. So he chose pizza restaurant. I had not been to that place for ages since, well... pizzas, burgers... my main fear foods. In my head I was already thinking if I should take a really small rye pizza without any cheese, to save up them calories. NO! If it is pizza now, then going to go and enjoy it fully. We also ordered sweet potato fries as my Mom ensured me these were THE BEST ones she had ever had. OK, Mom, no pressure, my hopes are high.

I wasn’t disappointed.

And pizzas at that place are just to die for. Over ages we ate at the locale and not ordered take-away as we usually do, and then we eat it quickly on our laps while dricing. No emotions or enjoyment. Eating there, at the table, taking time was like a therapy. We had time, we laughed and relaxed. I enjoyed every single bite, spilled food everywhere like I usually do. I was enough full, had my energy overflowing: perfect to be prepared for our second Gym evening. Because, yes, the next goal is also slowly starting to shift together. Now, on every Monday and Thursday we go to local gym. You have no idea how I MISSED gym! And once again: no forced excercising a la I HAVE TO lose that fat on my arms, I HAVE TO balance out these pizza calories. No, just pure enjoyment of how much my body is capable to perform.

Week itself was VERY busy. My workload has started to go up again, clients are active. Thus, it has become more complicated to take my proper lunch breaks. Few times they still turned to semi-breaks with me checking mails with one eye and replying to some of them. But, my mornings and evenings are nicely in frames; I do not start my office hours before 9 nor finish it after 6 PM.

On Wednesday evening I gave one of my best BodyBalance classes. This time there were so many people to my surprise, and even 2 new faces. It turned out people in neighboring villages have heard about my classes and one actually came and was so pleased. There you have it, corona. I am glad to see that when taking precautions, there is no need to avoid physical activity, times like these it is even more important than before. I am always so happy and glad that I have this opportunity to support people with my classes.

On Tuesday, I went for a RUN, over a million years! The weather has not really agreed with me, as my winter gear is not that ideal for colder temperatues. But on Tuesday, I found a window when the temperature was bearable and I managed to put together my running gear. Main heroes were my new running steeds. And, oh my god, how AWESOME it was to run after such a long time on a really slow and easy pace. I had no expectations, goals. Just pure enjoyment of running act. I took my time and enjoyed every second. Pace was slow indeed, but I had absolutely no remorse or anger over it. And, as promised, I will take it slowly and calmly, to get back my love and passion towards running once again.

One of my goals is to rediscover my passion of baking. Baby steps. On one teanight we realized we had no cookies to munch on. We only had a jar of jam. And then I had an idea: why not make a crumble! It is the most simplest pastrys there is. Flour, butter, sugar and jam. And I ate one piece. And even a second one. And third one next morning. See? Still alive, no visible weight gain.

And then I ordered a kilo of Nutritional Yeast: a magical vegan fairy dust. I think I got my boyfriend also to love the sweet heaven of nooch. I made a classical mac n cheese with nooch cheese sauce made with boiled potatoes, carrots, spices and nooch. And again, half of the pot was empty, and not because of me :D.

Overall I am happy to see that green and whole plant based foods have taken most of the space in our fridge. I have not yet managed to root out the meat all in all from our housegold, but this is not my main goal at the moment. Just hoping that with mild suggestions and explanations everything not blant based will soon be left out fullest, with an excetion of our cat, Igor, who is such a picky eater he won’t have anything else than his meaty kitty foods.

#ed #ed recovery #recovery #goals #baking #cooking #my journey #my story

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.3

Balmeria Roadhouse was as it always was at stupid o’clock in the morning. Two road trains parked up in the back parking space. Another sitting at the diesel pumps, the driver sitting inside the roadhouse taking a much needed break. Pulling up at the bowser, Lance heard the click of the pump release, the roadhouse on the older side where a pin needed to be entered instore before you could use the bowser. Shay was definitely on, her brother Rax also worked there, but he’d seemed to take a real dislike to their group, making one of them go in and ask to use the pumps instead of being a normal civil person. Yeah, he fell into the people that thoroughly annoyed Lance, but Shay... Shay lit up the room. Her smile was bright, hair always dyed shades of blue, huge silver hoop earrings that surely had to hurt her ears, then topped off with an ensemble that threw back to the golden years of “emo”. When she joked about it, a little bit of him died on the inside. It was hard being 44 when his friends were young enough to be his kids.

Pidge climbed out after Hunk, as Lance started fuelling up. The rain was coming again, he could smell it on the air. Maybe making a run for snacks hadn’t been the brightest idea mid-storm, but you never knew what would happen. He didn’t want to pressure Hunk, not after the tour from hell, but seeing Shay might just be thing his friend needed to perk him back up. Leaning back against his car, he closed his eyes and let himself just be. He loved this life. Out of all his “lives” as Lance, this was the most peace he’d ever found... as a near on hermit.

Hearing the slow roll of tires over wet gravel, Lance paid it no mind. The pump handle clicking to indicate the tank was full. Shaking the last few drops out the nozzle, he set the handle back in the cradle with a sigh. It should be illegal that filling a tank cost $90. He could still remember when it was $1 a litre. Back in the good old days and all that. Heck, when he’d been 20 it’d only been 65cents a litre. His precious girl was killing his bank account... but he’d never say that out loud, at least not with Pidge in earshot. And not with his Mami in earshot either. She mistakingly thought he kept his girl around out of some sense of misplaced guilt over his condition, not because no other car made him feel quite the way driving his bronco did. Giving Shay a wave on the security camera, Lance double checked his wallet in his back pocket before shoving his hands in his jacket, then making himself jog over to the roadhouse door as if he was scared of getting wet. As he jogged he noticed that the people who’d pulled up were one of those “people” who park way too close to the front door with the bonnet hanging over the edge, making the walk way smaller than it was supposed to be. From the look of it there were two of them in the black sedan, their car practically screaming for attention. Good luck with that, Lance was more interested in the road train by the diesel than two rich kids taking their car for a joy ride.

Letting himself into the warmth of the road house, Lance headed straight for the drinks at back. Grabbing two bottles of coke, he also snagged a bottle of orange juice for the morning. Carrying the drinks up to Shay, Hunk was spluttering over Shay’s flirting. Neither of them were aggressive enough to make that first move, Shay’s bubbly personality came from being in customer service, the “real” Shay was a shy blushing mess especially in the presence of Hunk

“Hiya, Lance. How’s it going?”

“Any day my glasses decide not to fog up is a win. How’s the night been?”

“Slooow. Seriously slow. Must be the weather, all the smart people are staying home”

Lance laughed as he nodded

“Yeah, it’s the night for it, alright. Hey, we were thinking of having dinner at mine on Saturday night, can you swing it?”

Shay shook her head, her gaze flicking to Hunk, then back to him

“I’m working both nights this weekend”

“It doesn’t have to be Saturday. Friday works too. Or Monday. Actually, any night works. One of the perks that comes with working from home”

“I can do Friday... are you sure you don’t mind?”

Now Shay was sounding like Hunk. They’d be the sweetest couple

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. It won’t be anything too fancy, maybe dinner than vegging out in front of the TV. I mean, please don’t feel pressured at all to come, I won’t be offended. I was just thinking how nice it’d be to actually hang out outside of this place”

Shay nodded quickly

“That sounds fun. I’ll finally be able to meet Blue”

With her blue hair, Shay had thought Lance was talking about her whenever he mentioned “Blue” to Pidge and, or, Hunk. His cooing over his precious princess making her uncomfortable. Shay remained in the dark until Pidge started teasing him mercilessly over Lance buying his baby girl a bigger and better cat tree to celebrate her first birthday

“She’s a bit of a snob, just so you know. Oh, you totally don’t have to bring anything, but I know what parents are like, so if you drink bring a bottle of that and we’ll pretend it’s for me”

Shay laughed. Lance felt as if the gift giving had slowly slipped from society, a bit like dinner parties

“Sometimes you sound like my dad”

Pidge slammed her palms down on the counter, excited to have someone agree

“I know, right?! You should have heard him earlier, I could have died of shame when he was talking about being “totally radical!”

“Much retro, so lame”

Huffing are the pair, Lance grabbed a pack of gum to toss in with everything else

“Remind me why I associate with all of you?”

“For the laughs. Oh, we better move, they’re coming in”

Spying on the two guys from the flashy car, the group moved aside as the door chimed. Shay swapping tills so she wouldn’t have to start ringing up his purchases from scratch

“You guys got everything you want?”

Pidge nodded happily

“Shay’s rung up my two slushies. I decided I needed one of each instead of two raspberry”

“I really should have only let you get one. You’ll be awake all night from all that sugar”

“Jeez, thanks, dad...”

Pidge made the telephone gesture with her hand, raising it to her ear. She played along with her fake fall, humming and nodding a few times before holding her hand out towards him

“The 1970’s called, they want their idiot back”

Swatting at Pidge’s hand, Lance felt a bump against his back. No apology was forth coming as Shay served the two strangers, the taller answering Shay’s polite attempts at small talk. At least one of them wasn’t a total douche.

When the pair left, the group moved back over. Shay finishing off scanning the last few items

“That’s $143.95 all up. Pidge said you were having a movie marathon when you got home?”

Fishing his wallet out, Lance pulled out his credit card, handing over as he shook his head

“She might be, but I’d hardly call it a movie marathon when she’s watching over what she taped tonight. Hunk and I are about ready to call it night”

“That sounds like a good plan. The weather’s supposed to turn bad again”

Entering his pin, Lance waited for “approved” to show on the reader, before taking his card back and sliding it away

“I heard that too. That’s why I’ve got to get these two home. If you write your number on the receipt, I’ll add you and chuck a text to confirm. You know where my house is, don’t you?”

Shay giggled, printing off the receipt like Lance has suggested

“Seeing it’s the only house on the road, I don’t think I can go wrong”

When the door chimed again, Lance turned out of habit. He hadn’t seen the diesel drier leave yet, so had thought maybe the man was waiting for someone. Walking back in, the taller of two strangers was scratching the back of his head. Greeeeat. The guy wanted a favour. He could tell by the way he was forcing himself to appear casual

“Hey, me again. My brother and I just tried our car but it doesn’t seem to be turning over. You don’t happen to know anyone around here that can help us out?”

That was what google was for. A quick google search would tell the man the towing service was shut for the night, unless he wanted to call someone in Platt.

Shay took the question in her stride, being a roadhouse she’d probably dealt with this kind of thing before

“That depends. If you need to reach Platt tonight, then you’ll want to call a Platt number for a tow. If you can wait until tomorrow, my friend Hunk here is the son of the town’s mechanic”

“We were actually hoping to stay a few days in town, you know, check out the old museum and that. My little brother’s really into photography. We’ve got a hotel room back in Platt, so I guess I need the number for that towing service”

The stranger scratched the back of his head again. Lance knew he was staring, but it was kind of hard not to when the man had a massive scar across the bridge of his nose

“I’ll give them a call, but they might not want to come out with the storm rolling in”

“Yeah, my brother was taking photos of the sky tonight, that’s how we ended up here in the middle of the night. I’d really appreciate it if you could”

“No worries, you’d be surprised how often it happens. Do you and your brother want to sit inside and wait?”

“No, thanks for the offer, but he’s not exactly a people person. I’m Shiro, by the way”

“I’m Shay. Welcome to Garrison”

“Thanks. I’ll just browse while you make that call. Thanks for this and for calling”

“It’s fine. They love me there because I send them so much business. Go ahead and take a look around”

There was no way that Lance was leaving Shay with a creeper. Hot or not, he didn’t know the man. An ordinary person wouldn’t be running around with a scar like that, his mind unhelpfully pointing out it could have been the result of a car crash or some kind of accident where he’d smacked his face hard against a pile or a corner. Whatever it’d been, Shiro had done a really good job of it. He carried himself with an air that Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like he was hiding something, but exposing himself all at the same time. Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he settled on the fact that though he’d never see the man again after this, he’d be unfortunately stuck remembering him and always wondering about that damn scar.

Shay was brisk on the phone, she laughed at lot, Hunk practically melting in pining over the sound. Two quick phone calls later, Shay hung up her phone, swapping back to her customer service face

“Shiro, I’ve got some good news and some bad news”

Replacing the magazine he’d been flicking through, the handsome stranger wandered his way back to the counter. Shiro laughed nervously, something making Lance’s skin prickle

“I’m not sure I like the idea of bad news”

“Well, there’s been an accident in Platt, the storm knocked a set of lights, so they won’t be able to send someone until tomorrow. The good news is that Hunk’s dad runs the local autoshop, he can take a look first thing tomorrow morning. The bad news is you’re either stuck waiting the next 12 hours in here or we can try getting you a room in town... you could probably call a cab out from Platt, but that’s going to cost about as much as getting a room”

Shiro sighed. Lance didn’t blame him. Being stuck sucked arse

“Don’t worry, man. My dad will sort you out tomorrow”

Hunk tried to comfort the stranger, Shiro looking at him properly for the first time

“Uh, thanks for that. I’m Shiro...”

Pidge stepped forward

“I’m Pidge, that’s Hunk and this loser is Lance. We can give you a ride back in town if you need”

Lance stepped on Pidge’s foot. He wasn’t a damn taxi service, for all he knew this guy and his “brother” could be serial killers

“Really? That would be fantastic. You three are locals right, you wouldn’t happen to know of any good places to stay?”

“Sure do. We know everything about Garrison. Hey, why don’t you crash at Lance’s tonight, then he can give you a lift in tomorrow when he drops us off?”

Lance ground his foot down. He didn’t want two strangers in his house. It was his house. Access was limited to people he actually knew and liked... a grand total of five including Shay

“What? They’re stuck. It’s the nice thing to do”

Damn Pidge and her “niceness”. Shiro scratched the back of his head again

“I don’t want to put you out...”

“Nonsense. He’s got enough rooms. And it’s only for the night. What kind of people would we be if we left you stuck?”

“At least let me pay...”

“Already taken care of. The only thing is you’ll have to ride in the back of the rust bucket out there. This one refuses to get a new car”

Lance huffed

“There’s nothing wrong with my car. She’s got four wheels and starts”

“When she wants to. Go let your brother know what’s going on, while we finish up here”

“I will. Thank you so much for this. You three really saved our butts tonight. So, the bronco, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one”

“I guess we’ll get settled then... Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“It’s fine, go on, we’ll be out shortly”

When Shiro left, Lance rounded Pidge. Tempted to keep his foot on hers, but scared he’d apply too much pressure and accidentally hurt her

“What the fuck was that?”

Pidge fluttered her eyelashes

“What was what?”

“Volunteering my house? We don’t know them”

“Exactly! I saw you staring”

“Because he’s got a big arse scar across his nose...”

“And now we can find out why”

Lance rolled his eyes, trying to keep his panic internal

“And what if they’re both serial killers?”

“You’re just being stupid. It’s a guy and his brother. Oh! Maybe they’re into ghosts, everyone who comes here’s into ghosts”

Hunk groaned

“Pidge... Lance is right. We don’t know them”

“Too bad. It’s only for tonight. Consider it our good deed for the year”

Shay giggled

“I thought that was that tour of yours”

Pidge jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, grabbing Lance by the arm and shaking him

“Oh my god, that means two good deeds in one day! Karma, here we come!”

Karma could fuck off. If there was any kind of karma in the world, he wouldn’t be what he was now. He wanted his cat, his bed, and not to have two strangers in his goddamn house. Packing their shopping neatly into a bag, Shay placed two slushy cups down on the counter with a clatter as the lids slipped off

“Whoopsies. Anyway, I won’t keep you guys any longer. Lance, you’ll text me right?”

“Sure thing, Shay. Pidge, get your damn slushies so we can go”

“Do you think they want slushies? We should get them slushies. That’s the nice thing to do right?”

“If they wanted slushies, they would have got their own”

Blowing a raspberry at him, Lance knew that Shiro and his brother were getting slushies whether they liked it or not

“Shay, two more cups please!”

God, Lance was done. Grabbing the bag off the counter, he shot Shay a tired smile

“Wish me luck”

“Better you than me. Have fun”

Like that was going to happen. With a wave, Lance wandered towards the door. Behind him Hunk had been nominated to help Pidge with her slushies. What kind of idiot just opened their home up to strangers? His Mami would be so disappointed... Actually, she’d tell him it was the right thing to do, which only made him feel worse.

#klance #vld au #ashratherose #on ao3 #vampire Lance

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