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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

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For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

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rebelspykatie · 2 years

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I’m well aware of the fact that, as a queer person, I consume media differently than the average viewer. Sometimes I think y’all get too caught up in the details of like how a light shines on something or how a shirt pocket is crinkled (I love you all, but please go drink some water and close your computer every now and then). So I like to check myself by asking my family and coworkers, especially the hetero ones, their opinions or takeaways from different shows.

I did this with Stranger Things and I’m here to reassure you guys that the general audience, the ones that don’t care anything about ships or the silly little romances on the show, finds Mike’s speech to El off. They can see that Mike is acting weird this season.

My coworker, unprompted from me, said something along the lines of Mike’s problem and why he couldn’t say I love you has to be more than him thinking he’s just a nerd and El doesn’t need him. She pointed out how attentive Mike was to Will’s feelings in seasons one and two, and how this season it’s like he’s just checked out and oblivious. She saw the inconsistencies in Mike’s confession and how it directly contradicted the way he acted in season one.

Now, like I said, this was all unprompted by me and she doesn’t know I ship byler. She doesn’t even know I’m queer. I just asked about where she thought the characters were going and she said well obviously they have to work to resolve whatever is going on with Will and Mike. She said it seemed like El was uninterested in Mike at the end, with bigger problems to face. She had a hard time accepting that Will is gay and in love with Mike while watching vol 1, but came back swinging in vol 2 completely on board. I literally had to talk her through it when she made comments like “well we already have Robin, they wouldn’t make another character gay” and “he’s so young how does he know all that yet.” And before you ask yes, she’s a cis het white boomer.

So, if even she can see something is going on, none of you are delusional. She agreed that Will deserves a win and that they have made it tough not to be sympathetic towards his character because they’ve just shown him struggling and suffering for four seasons, with very little reward. The GA is on board for this story because that’s how the Duffers have written it. They want you to see Will’s side of things and bring it to the forefront as he takes on a key role in season five. She is not the only person that’s said this to me. My mom, another cis het white boomer, has voiced the same thoughts.

The GA is going to be dissatisfied if they don’t resolve the issues with Mike, Will and Eleven. They made it the entire plot for their storylines, particularly Will and Mike, so it’s not going to go unresolved. I think I’ve honestly heard more feedback about Mike acting weird than about Will being gay, which is quite frankly surprising. But I just wanted to provide some reassurance that the GA does see it. You’re not crazy. Whether that ends up with Mike being in love with Will, too, remains to be seen. That’s in the Duffers hands, but just going by what we have seen on screen, their story is unresolved.

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #if anyone wants to hear more about my scientific polling of everyone I know #let me know

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dilfgmancoolatta · 3 years

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can yuo write angsty freelatta........-benryphobic

@benryphobic

Gordon looks down at the half-eaten pizza, his appetite almost completely gone. He was initially suspicious of it- as much as he trusted Tommy, he had no idea what Mr. Coolatta’s intentions were. But after seeing everyone else dig in (well, everyone who had made it out of the boss battle alive), he let himself give in. It was horrible, but horrible in the way that most Chuck E. Cheese pizza generally is. Mr. Coolatta pulled out all the stops for this one, huh?

He sighs, gently nudging his paper plate away. He’s not really sure what to do. He doubts Mr. Coolatta would react well to being asked when they could leave- he seems really protective of his son.

Gordon decides to get some fresh air. Quietly pushing in his chair, he sneaks away from the group, Mr. Coolatta and Bubby seemingly distracting by a story Dr. Coomer was telling from the Engineering department.

He breathes a sigh of relief once the door closes behind him. He looks up at the sky as he slides down the wall. It’s strikingly beautiful, yet chilling. It’s a sky Gordon’s never seen before, with a large spiral galaxy, that definitely wasn’t the Milky Way, taking up much of it. Planets upon planets and stars upon stars that Gordon couldn’t recognize.

“That’s Andromeda o- up there, by the way.”

Gordon jolts, feeling his heart rate spike, before laughing. “Tommy, don’t scare me like that, man. Kinda still on edge.”

“Oh-” Tommy covers his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman, I thought you knew I was out here.”

Gordon waves him off. “It’s not a big deal. Just- Thought I should let you know.” Tommy nods. “Andromeda’s a lot bigger than I remember.”

“Mmhm! I told my dad once that Andromeda w- is my favorite galaxy. And after that, he always made sure Andromeda was the biggest thing in the night sky in his pocket dimensions.”

“That’s… honestly pretty sweet.”

Tommy nods, sitting down next to Gordon. “My Dad’s a good guy, even if he is pretty weird sometimes. Though I guess I can’t talk.”

“I don’t think you’re weird, Tommy.”

Tommy looks at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Freeman, I wouldn’t be so sure-”

“Listen, we’ve got a lab grown human, a man who’s been cloned, like, 1000 times, and then there’s you. I don’t think the identity of your dad makes you weird.”

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, but seemingly decides against it. Instead, he decides on a simple “Thank you.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments, staring up into the night sky.

“Did something happen at the party?” Tommy asks. “I hope my dad wasn’t being weird about the Chuck E. Cheese debate-thing.”

Gordon shakes his head. “No, I just needed some fresh air. Gordon sensory overload time was coming up, I could feel it. Wasn’t that hungry either.”

Tommy nods. “I understand. That… happens to me too. The only reason I could handle the arcade inside is because my dad makes the machines quieter-” He frowns and scrunches his nose. “But you don’t want to hear about all that.” He waves him off.

And there it is.

It’s a pattern Gordon’s noticed throughout their time in Black Mesa. Every time Tommy seemed like he was about to express any negative emotion, he’d change the subject and say something about Gordon not wanting to hear it.

So he takes a chance.

“But what if I do want to hear it?”

That wasn’t the answer Tommy seemed to be expecting.

“I mean- there’s not much more to it. It’s just me not e- liking loud noises. Nothing all that interesting.”

“It’s not about it being interesting, Tommy. You don’t have to dismiss your own feelings.” Tommy looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an unsure look. “You’ve been, like, my emotional rock throughout Black Mesa. You’ve gotta let me return the favor.”

“I d- really don’t want you to think any less of me.”

“Why would I?”

Tommy looks away from Gordon. “I’ve learned from experience, Mr. Freeman. There isn’t r- any way for someone like me to be upset without being treated like a child throwing a tantrum. And then they talk about you like you’re not even in the room-”

Oh.

Unfortunately, the experience is all-too-familiar to Gordon.

“I’ve gotten the same shit- it’s awful.”

“You... have? I never thought that of you- I mean, anyone in your situation might- would be a little on edge.”

“I mean, even before the Black Mesa incident. People would either use kiddie gloves around me or flat out tell me I was overreacting whenever I was slightly upset. So I do somewhat get it, and you don’t need to expect anything like that from me.”

Tommy nods, a small smile beginning to form. It’s a very nice smile- No, Gordon, now is not the time for gay thoughts.

“And I know I shouldn’t have let them win, and I really did try to not give in, but it just got so ti- exhausting going to work everyday with people who saw you as an overgrown child.” Tommy brings his knees to his chest and rests his head on them.

“I mean, I don’t think you ‘should’ have done anything in that situation.” Gordon shrugs. “I don’t think making a statement is worth more than making things bearable for you. It’s not your job to ‘show them who’s boss’.”

“Mm,” Tommy hums, taking his right arm off of his legs and putting it in between them. “It just doesn’t sit right with me that I ba- essentially taught them that that behavior works.”

Gordon gives his hand a comforting squeeze. “You didn’t teach them anything. They were shitty people to begin with, and even if you refused to ‘give in’, I doubt they would’ve changed their minds. You just would’ve been even more miserable.” He feels Tommy shift his hand so their fingers are intertwined. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush- “If you don’t mind me asking, couldn’t you have told your dad about it? He doesn’t seem like the type to let that slide.”

Tommy shakes his head. “He’s not, but…” he trails off. “Listen, my dads a go- great guy. If I had told him about how I was being treated at work he probably would’ve… either got them fired, at the very least, or have locked them in a void for who knows how long to ‘teach them a lesson’.” Gordon can’t tell if that’s a joke or not- from what little he knows about Mr. Coolatta, it probably isn’t. “But I’m a 37 year old man. My dad wants to protect me from the world, and I don’t really blame him for that, but I need to fight my own battles. I’m not going to be the kind of person that calls their dad at the first sign of danger.”

Gordon nods, brushing his thumb across Tommy’s hand. He understands where Tommy’s coming from. As a father himself, it’s been very hard to ignore his immediate impulse to protect Joshua from anything that could potentially harm him. He can’t imagine what it’ll be like a few years from now when there are dangers Gordon couldn’t protect Josh from even if he did try. “I can’t blame you for that. But I hope that line of logic hasn’t lead to you refusing to ask anyone else for help.”

“Well…”

“Tommy.”

“I’m gonna start trying to change that behavior, I swear!” Tommy laughs, doing an ‘x’ sign over his heart.

“Besides, considering the whole Resonance Cascade thing, I doubt your shitty ex-coworkers will be able to be shitty to anyone else.”

Tommy laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right about that, Mr. Freeman-”

“You can call me Gordon, you know.”

“I- Are you sure?”

“I think, after everything we’ve been through together, we’re well past the awkward coworkers stage of friendship.”

“I mean, if you’re sure about that… Gordon.” Never before had hearing his name filled him with more joy. “But… I don’t know. It’s st- silly, but I still feel bad that they died? Even though they were awful to me.”

Gordon shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s silly at all, man. Feelings are really fucking complicated- Not to mention you’re probably not mourning them specifically, just the fact that people died. You’ve got a big heart, there’s nothing silly or stupid about it.”

“You do too, M- Gordon. You’re a very kind person.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, both of them red as a beet.

“I think…” Gordon gulps, hoping how flustered he is isn’t that obvious. “I think I’m ready to go back inside.”

Tommy nods, standing up and pulling Gordon up with him. They both turn their heads to look inside the Chuck E. Cheese, seeing Mr. Coolatta somehow playing a perfect game of Skee-ball while Dr. Coomer and Bubby cheer on. Gordon looks at their hands, still intertwined, then back up to Tommy.

“C’mon, before the pizza gets cold.” Gordon opens the door with his shoulder, grinning at Tommy.

Tommy follows him in, and the Birthday Party At The End of the World continues on.

#freelatta #gordon freeman #hlvrai #tommy coolatta #nhlvrai #gordos feetman #halflife vr but the ai is self aware #I TRIED TO MAKE THIS ANGSTY BUT IT ENDED UP BEING VENTY SORRY

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kakashiswilloffire · 3 years

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hey friend! i saw you are taking requests and would love to submit one if you're up for it!

would love something fluffy and sweet for kakashi. maybe some lazy day off shenanigans with his s/o and his ninken? bonus points if snuggling in a dog pile is involved at some point. reader can be gender neutral.

thanks and congrats on 100!

thank you so much!! i'm not really a dog person so i struggled a bit but i hope you enjoy!!

ao3

words: 2.4k

warnings: none!

It was the first day off you had both had in nearly a month. Team 7 kept Kakashi busy, if not with missions, then with training all day. On top of that, he was still in the on-call rotation all jonin were required to keep their names in, though his shifts were less frequent due to his status as a sensei. You had recently been promoted, and with that, your responsibilities were upped and you had been asked to step in for one of your colleagues who had recently run into some unexpected health issues. The time you had been able to share at home together had been limited to early mornings and late evenings, and frequently, there had been nights where the apartment you shared had remained empty entirely. Your fiancé had been counting down the days until your schedules finally overlapped, and you had exactly twenty-six hours in which you both had no obligation to the outside world.

You were awoken by the fire alarm screeching and a handful of swear words, followed by a crunching of plastic and sudden silence. Gaze flickering to the side, you noted Kakashi’s two-thirds of the bed empty and grinned, holding back a chuckle.

“Everything alright, babe?” you called out.

The reply came with an air of resignment. “Did I wake you up?”

You brought your arms over your head, feeling your joints re-align and pop lightly as you stretched.

“Not necessarily, unless you need help cleaning up?”

“No!” He replied quickly, and you heard the broom skitter across the tiles, dragging the remains of the smoke detector with it. “Go ahead and go back to sleep, I’ll come wake you later.”

Not one to deny the opportunity to rest after how late you’d gotten in last night, you snuggled back into your pillow with a small smile. It only took a moment before you were drifting off again, although not as deeply as you had been. You were dimly aware of the sound of teapot being filled, the burnt toast smell wafting through the open door, and your fiance’s graceful footsteps as he danced through the kitchen.

Wait.

Danced?

You raised your head up slightly, freeing both ears to focus on the sound of the Copy Ninja’s footsteps. His weight wasn’t distributing evenly on each step and the pattern of his footfalls was irregular. Bringing yourself to a sitting position, you suddenly realized that he was humming absentmindedly in the small kitchen.

Kakashi was not known for his stoicism, but the level of professionalism he established outside of the copy of Icha Icha attached to his palm was carefully maintained even in his downtime. When you went out together for dinner or drinks with friends, he told few jokes and mostly at Genma or Asuma’s expense. Gai’s repeated challenges to karaoke contests, both in locations with and without a karaoke machine, had always been flatly denied in favor of watching you and Kurenai choose the heartbreaker duet of the week to belt out. When you found yourself at the rare club, it only took light coaxing to bring him onto the dance floor with you, but anything more than swaying to the beat was out of the question. As long as he was having fun, you didn’t mind him not joining in the way the others teased him to do, but you had wished that he would be able to let go of his responsibilities long enough to really enjoy himself one day.

You slinked out of bed, keeping your movements as fluid as possible as you wrapped the comforter over your shoulders. As silently as you could move, you travelled into the hallway and through the living room, the smell of something acrid and burnt slowly getting stronger. You flattened yourself parallel to the wall, though not touching it to prevent the noise of the comforter dragging along, once you approached the doorway to the kitchen. He was certainly humming, and you couldn’t repress a grin, realizing he must be nearly skipping from the counter to the pantry from the way he moved. As slowly as you could, despite your excitement, you leaned around the corner to check on the man in the kitchen.

Kakashi was wearing boxers and a binder, his most comfortable outfit when secure inside your shared home. To your delight, he had chosen one of the binders without a mask attached, and you had a clear view of the slightly silly grin plastering his face as he shifted intermittently from humming to light, mumbled singing, punctuated by murmuring the ingredients he was using as he reached for them. He was stationed at the stove, stirring a medium pot and tasting from it in between verses of his song, reaching for more salt or minced garlic to adjust. He closed his eyes, bobbing his head side to side at a line he took a particular interest in, the morning sunlight catching glints of silver in his messy hair.

Taking advantage of his eyes being shut, you whipped back around the doorway into the living room, quickly tiptoeing away. You were so in love, and so happy to see him carefree, your mouth fell open in a silent scream and your hands, corners of the comforter still held in each, flew to your face.

You had to tell someone. No one would ever believe that Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, could be so sweet and cute behind the former ANBU exterior. Quickly, you crouched to the floor, abandoned the comforter, and made the required handsigns, pausing for a moment to remember if it was hitsuji or uma that came after saru, then gently pressed your palm against a squishy couch cushion. With a puff of smoke that evaporated almost as quickly as it was created, Pakkun sat before you.

You brought your finger up to your lips in a shushing gesture immediately. The tiny dog squinted, but nodded his agreement after a beat. This was your third or fourth time summoning him, and the first time you had done with without Kakashi. Animal summons were not your strong suit, and you had never particularly been a dog person, a fact that Pakkun had keyed in to almost instantaneously upon meeting you when you had no more than polite “my boyfriend’s pet” level interest in his paw pads. They were as soft and supple as he claimed, but you didn’t quite understand the appeal of man’s best friend.

You made the simple gestures required to convey that there was something to see and led Pakkun quietly toward the entryway to the kitchen where you could hear the rice cooker being sealed and started. Kakashi had switched to a different song and was now vocalizing the instrumentals softly, occasionally pausing to mime playing the instruments he was mimicking. Your hand found its way over your mouth, your heart melting with the gentle domesticity. Then you jerked away, feeling a soft scratch at your feet.

The pocket-sized grizzled dog glared at you until you bent down, when he pointed upwards toward a mess of hair. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized from this angle, all you could see was the shinobi’s calloused hand pushing silver strands out of his face, the black engagement band glinting dully on his finger. For the wedding in four months, you had managed to arrange custom bands for you both with the Hatake crest engraved into the matte surface. Kakashi didn’t know yet, and you knew that with how mission work was, he wouldn’t get to wear it often, but he would have a piece of his clan’s legacy with him whenever he did wear it.

The feeling of disappointment radiated off of the dog with the headband as you absorbed the fact you hadn’t considered him not being able to see over the counter. After a moment, you held out both your hands cupped together, fingertips resting on the floorboards. Pakkun regarded this, looking from your hands to your face, which you tried to humble appropriately. He sniffed at your exposed palms, then delicately stepped into your arms.

Bringing him up to your chest as you stood back up, you felt him stiffen. Had you moved him too quickly? Were you holding him too tightly? You ran two fingers down the back of his head instinctively and were surprised to find him relax. Kakashi tasted the cloudy liquid from the pot again and nodded firmly, turning toward the doorway. You whipped around, placing your back against the living room wall and clutching Pakkun tightly to your chest. You both held your breath, waiting to see if you’d been caught.

He sang to himself, “almost ready!” and you released your breath. Quickly, you snagged the blanket off the floor and made your way back to the bedroom.

“What’s the occasion?” Pakkun demanded as soon as you had the door shut behind you, jumping onto the bed.

“There is none! It’s just our first day off in a while, and he thinks I’m still asleep!”

Pakkun considered that quietly. “His pa, Sakumo, used to do the same thing. If he thought no one was around, he’d put on a whole concert for himself. Kakashi used to join him, up until his death. Then I didn’t catch him humming again till about a year after Minato’s death. Life had been rough for the poor pup up till about then. But he’s been in there all morning singing to himself?”

You nodded, pulling the gray comforter tighter around your shoulders. You knew your fiancé had been through more than most people should ever have to go through, but to think he might be making a breakthrough with his depression and trauma—to start singing again?

Pakkun made an odd noise that reminded you of a sneeze, then pawed at his eye and seemed to clear his throat. “I gotta tell the others. They’re gonna lose it.”

“Yeah, you should definitely head back and let them know the good news. I’m supposed to be asleep after all, he’ll probably come wake me up in a minute or two.”

The sly dog hesitated, then a wicked glimmer flashed across his eyes. “Or…”

Before you could react, you were engulfed a thin cloud of smoke that smelled vaguely of grass, and your bed began to creak. You jumped up, gasping at the number of variously sized dogs that had appeared in the room.

Pakkun addressed the crew before anyone could ask any questions. “Stay quiet. We’ve got a stealth mission ahead of us. Everyone, this is Kakashi’s partner, the one he’s marrying soon.” He then turned to you and pointed out the pack members in a line. “Bull, Urushi, Shiba, Bisuke, Akino, Uhei, and Guruko.” They were all undeniably adorable, and you’d have to ask your fiancé when he had the time to commission them all matching vests and headbands, but you were still shocked to see so many dogs. Did he really have eight summons? When most shinobi had one, if any?

“Name of the game is observe without being detected. Target: Kakashi. Location: kitchen. Standard formation. Questions?”

With no questions being posed, Pakkun lept up onto Bull’s head and led the way. You marveled in how quietly such a massive dog could move and trailed the pack as they made their way through your apartment.

You heard the timer on the rice cooker ding, then the seal breaking and relished the scent of the steam drifting through the air. There must be a stick of lemongrass in the rice this morning. You could see that Kakashi was beginning to set the table, gathering everything for a cozy breakfast for two.

He was also singing, audibly, with some degree of confidence.

One by one, the dogs all stopped and froze in awe. Akino and Uhei stepped around to the other side of you, and Shiba—or maybe it was Urushi?—popped their head between your knees to try to see. You were surrounded on all sides by the ninken, and you started to feel comforted by their warmth. Together, you all listened to your man serenade chopsticks and bowls as he spun to the small table, breaking into a mock tap routine as the china hit the wooden surface. You felt your head tilt to the right as you let the waves of love rush over you as you watched him carefully adjust the oily, burnt pan in the sink so he could wash his hands.

“Alright, love—breakfast is ready!”

For just a moment, you forgot that you were supposed to be in bed. You didn’t move as Kakashi rounded the corner, freezing when he saw nine sets of puppy-dog eyes gazing wistfully back at him from the middle of the living room, all heads tilted to the right and dreamy smiles plastered on each face.

“Ah! Uh, how long have you, uh…?”

Together, you moved as a pack toward your loved one, tackling him in a ten person hug. When you wormed your way past Uhei, you cupped Kakashi’s face and brought him in for a deep kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach. He blushed slightly, tracing his thumb along your jawline.

“I love you, and I’m so glad that you feel safe and happy and loved with me,” you whispered fiercely, trying to beam the intensity of your emotion at him without being too aggressive.

He smiled, Sharingan deliberately taking the whole scene in as he lay on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms. Pakkun trotted over to sit on his chest while he brought you in for a firm, tight hug.

“Me too. And I’m glad you got to meet the rest of the clan.” He let the Sharingan fall shut, relaxing against you.

“Would’ve made more miso soup if I’d known everyone was coming over. Have you seen the dog bowls around anywhere?”

#fic request #kakashi can't cook #kakashi x reader #kakashi hakate #ninken #kakashi x gn!reader #gn!reader #kakashi oneshot #naruto fanfiction #domestic kakashi #pakkun

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years

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DaveFarts - Episode 9 “Trapped In The Closet” [Episode List] Following the most blatant sit-com tropes you can think of, Dave decides to spy on his girlfriend, Dana, because he thinks she’s hiding something. Tim reluctantly decides to join his friend, but the two end up stuck in the girl’s closet, which will eventually turn into a gas chamber.

Trapped In The Closet

“Yeah Dana. Sure. No problem.”

Tim was working on some college tasks, but couldn’t help but to eavesdrop Dave’s conversation with his girlfriend, Dana, on the phone. He could only hear his friend’s replies, which being only the 50% of what they were talking about, it didn’t make a lot of sense. Not that he was interested: Dave was simply hanging out in his room because he had nothing better to do during that warm Summer evening, apparently, and so he simply showed up to Tim’s place with a couple of beers and a remarkable amount of procrastination powers.

Despite being relatively hot outside, Dave was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of long, grey levi jeans, kinda loose as usual. Something that Tim hated about his kink is how quickly he checked his friend’s outfit, something that he always did since Dave is now basically his “fart bud”, against all odds.

“Yeah… yeah… I love you. No… I love you more!”

Kinda funny how Dave, 24, would revert back to an awkward teenager at times whenever he and his girlfriend were on the phone. They probably even acted like that on purpose, because love is doing stupid things together after all.

“Tim. Car. Now!”

Dave hung up and turned weirdly serious, got up and walked downstairs, saying something about getting in the car.

“Wait, what?” Tim asked, questioning whether his friend was being serious or not, but he did follow him to wherever he was going.

“We don’t have much time, Tim. Dana will come back soon. She’s out with her own friends and we have… like… 15 minutes.”

The two walked outside and headed towards the girls’ house, actually only a few blocks away from Tim’s. Tim himself reluctantly followed his bro into this, knowing that, at best, it may turn into a funny mishap to tell to their other pals while being drunk and laugh about it.

“I’ll just pretend your words make any sense, like I usually do…” Tim chuckled, sarcastically, but still following his friend.

“I think she’s hiding something.” Dave explained, walking at a fast pace, Tim right behind him. “She’s been strangely elusive lately and I want to check her room for clues.”

Tim just chuckled in response. “Dave, you do realize that this is not a 90s sit-com, right? Her room? Really? What are you hoping to find out, exactly, anyway? That she’s having some kind of affair behind your back?” he asked, trying to reason with him.

“An affair? You think I’m that kind of guy?” Dave answered, looking surprisingly offended by Tim’s question. “I just want to make sure she’s fine. She seemed worried about something and she’s like this organized haf-woman/half-machine hybrid who keeps sticky notes in her room to keep an eye on her busy life.”

“Oh…” Tim replied, rather sarcastically. “Now that makes a lot of sense.”

“Leave your sassiness for later, dork. Can we take your car?” Dave asked.

“Why? We’re already right in front of her house…”

Dave realized that he was so worried that they did, in fact, walked for a couple of blocks and found themselves stepping in Dana’s backyard without even noticing. He just laughed a bit about it.

“Sorry. Love makes me blind.” he joked, knowing that it was a rather silly thing to say anyway.

“Not the words I would have used, but ok.” Tim answered.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” his bro said, with a smirk.

“Alright… but please, let’s keep a low profile and no awkwa-”

But as they approached to the girl’s house, Dave awkwardly started muttering some kind of theme song that was oddly reminiscent of the Mission Impossibile’s most iconic soundtrack. This guy has a girlfriend, everyone.

“So much for keeping a low profile, Ethan Hunt…” Tim joked.

Dana’s room, following the usual “average american house tropes” that the writer of this story grew up with in the 90s, was on the second floor. Luckily, the house was empty, so both Tim and Dave could easily climb it without fearing of someone noticing their totally legal actions.

“Look at Tim, such a rebel! Such a fast climber!” Dave whispered, noticing how good Tim was at climbing the girl’s house.

“Thanks. I learned it when I visited your mom.” he joked.

“I thought you’d prefer my dad, you know.” Dave played along, with a rather noticeable reference to Tim’s homosexuality.

“Just… just let’s get done with this.”

After some awkward climbing, the two found themselves in front of a window leading to Dana’s room. The duo was sitting on a small portion of slanted roof, wondering how to get inside.

“Alright. I could just punch through the window and open it. But you know I don’t like violence against windows.” Dave said, somewhat joking, but really trying to come up with a way to get through this final obstacle.

“Never mind, it’s open.” Tim said, as his hand passed right through the window. “Or, you know, I got ghost powers all of the sudden, but I doubt it.”

“You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” Dave commented, as he got inside his girlfriend’s room, making sure no one was there, immediately followed by his sassy friend.

The room was fairly big and messy, books and magazines scattered all around the floor and the bed. Dana was a busy woman: she got a degree in economics but, given the tough times, she had troubles finding a decent job lately. Dave actually suspected that this was the reason she was being nervous about, well, everything, understandably.

“Why don’t you just ask her instead of acting like the perfect boyfriend material that you are?” Tim stated, in his usual snarky tone, noticing Dave basically rummaging through Dana’s more personal stuff.

“Just… let me do my thing ok?” he was serious again, trying to find something that could be clue, deep down knowing that all of that was quite non-sense and even ridiculous, but his stubbornness was showing. “Wait…”

Something drew his attention. A red (therefore important, according to Dana’s code) sticky note on the nightstand. Something was written on it.

“Oh… I guess I was right…” Dave whispered, eyes glued on the note.

“Something about her job?”

But Tim didn’t get an answer, as they heard someone coming from downstairs. They probably were so focused on their mission that didn’t even notice how someone got inside the house minutes after them. They went silent and tried to listen to the person’s footsteps.

“Yeah. I’ll keep you posted.”

They heard a muffled female voice getting closer, probably talking on her phone. A voice that was very familiar.

“Fuck! It’s Dana!” Dave whispered.

The two looked around, looking for a quick solution or a place to hide, blatantly ignoring the window they used to get inside in the first place.

“The closet!” Dave said.

Without even questioning whether this was a good idea or not, the duo sneaked inside Dana’s closet and closed themselves inside just as the girl came into her room, still talking on the phone about something.

Tim and Dave managed to mess things up however, as they ended up in a very small section of that apparently big, spacious closet, so they had to arrange themselves in a weird position. Dave was standing up, towering over Tim, who found himself sitting on the floor instead, right behind his friend… with his face perfectly aligned with his loose jeans butt. As his eyes got adjusted to the dark, Tim started to distinguish the seams and texture’s on Dave’s jeans ass, and the tiny red Levi tag on the right back pocket. He couldn’t help but take a look, which he felt really unnecessary, given the context.

“So… this is where you lived for most of your life…” Dave joked, looking around, as if the closet was some kind of fancy mansion.

“Haha! Another gay joke! Great timing, Dave!” Tim muttered instead. The last thing they had to do was talk.

The two waited for a couple of minutes, hoping that Dana would just leave again or even just go downstairs, so they’d have enough time to get out of there in the hopes that Dave didn’t leave any clue of his presence.

“As long a we remain silent…” Tim whispered. “We have nothing to worry about.”

Only moments after saying that, he felt a very familiar sound greeting his face. It was a long, rumbling sound coming from Dave’s denim ass. It was one of his usual, well-known loud farts, a fart that he was desperately trying to keep as silent as possible. Luckily, Dana was too busy with her phone to even notice the weird noise coming from inside of her closet.

“Dave! What the fuck?!” Tim hissed.

The gassy friend tried not to laugh, realizing how idiotic the whole situation was. “I’m sorry dude.” he murmured. “You know what happens when I’m nervous!”

The smell was unbearable already. Being in a such small space didn’t certainly help. Those were probably some of the smelliest farts Dave ever managed to rip in Tim’s face, although this time was, against all odds, more like an accident.

“Tim…” Dave whispered, carefully placing his butt closer to his friend’s face.

Another fart erupted, sounding dangerously louder than the previous one. The rough surface of Dave’s denim gently caressed Tim’s nose. The blast of gas then turned into something much more subtle, but still otherwise bubbly. Tim felt his nose burn, as really he had no choice but to breath all of that in.

“Dave I swear. If you don’t stop, Dana’s gonna–”

But another “slow-paced” rumbly fart cut him off. Dave was seriously trying to contain his well-known farting abilities. Tim, instead, was trying to remain calm, feeling like the Universe was somehow messing with him. That was an insane situation: he certainly wasn’t new to Dave’s farts, but in that context, it felt almost like one of his weird dreams about his fart fetish.

“Tim I’m sorry, at least I know you don’t mind… I hope”

Funnily enough, despite the slightly amused tone in his whispering voice, Dave sounded genuinely sorry. Yet he was right: Tim was insanely enjoying it, but knowing that Dana was out there made the whole thing almost surreal. And, once again, as much as Dave always proved so chill about this stuff, he couldn’t help but feel somehow awkward about having his friend face-farting him so non-chalantly.

And yet another “ninja” fart was ripped all over his face. Being nervous really turned Dave’s stomach into a messy cloud of gas, and Tim’s nose was there to vacuum it all up, completely defenseless, standing before the sheer power of the gassy friend’s powerful denim-covered anus.

Even though the situation was absurd, Dave couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. After all, the smell hit him too, and it was getting insane even for the farter himself, whose gas just didn’t stop building up.

“Sorry bro… I have to do this.” he whispered.

Tim felt Dave’s hands gently grabbing the back of his head, holding it still, as he pulled him in the clutches of his denim butt. The warm fabric of the jeans was soaking in that unbearable smell. The sniffer then felt the weight of his gassy friend almost crushing his skull. Despite being dark, Tim realized that Dave was basically sitting on him, using his head as some kind of human stool.

The fart was directly ripped in Tim’s mouth at that point, that rumbly sound once again renewing the already destructive stench. It was supposed to be loud, so loud, that Dave had to basically use his friend’s face to deadpan its impressive thunderous noise. The gassy bro was trying to rip it in the form of a long series, hoping that Dana would fail to hear (or even recognize) his well-known gross, but rather impressive talent.

Tim heard his friend’s sighs of relief after each, rumbling fart, but Dave was also trying not to burst into a laughter that could blow their cover. Fart fetish or not, he couldn’t help but to find it more hilarious than gross.

As much as the lack of space in that closet wouldn’t really allow it, Dave even lifted his right leg a bit, while still “sitting” on his stool-friend, as a way to facilitate the impressive amount of gas gushing out from his anus. It’s not like he had to worry about Tim passing out or finding it too gross, anyway.

That fart itself was lasting longer than both of them anticipated. They lost count of how much time passed, probably a full minute. Tim’s face was warm and sweaty now, still trapped in the clutches of his gassy bro’s denim butt, directly living in person that thin line between Fart Heaven and Fart Hell.

A final sigh of relief, followed by a louder toot and a chuckle. “Sorry, bud.” Dave muttered, hoping that his plan worked.

Indeed, Dana didn’t hear a thing. She hung up and left the room, her footsteps slowly turning into a far, muffled sound, until silence announced that the duo was now free to get the heck out of there, especially considering how they were almost both choking on farts.

Tim forgot what fresh, non-fart air felt like in his nostrils and so took a deep, refreshing breath the moment he stepped out of that gas closet. Ironically, Dave did the same, maybe even wondering how would Tim even endure something as overwhelming as his farts, but he didn’t really mind anyway. Despite everything, that was oddly hilarious, as the two stared at each other and then bursted into a laughter.

“Now let’s get out of here…” the farter suggested.

But before the two could even walk towards the window, Dana showed up again in her own room. She didn’t even startle.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, sounding more like an inquisitive mom than an angry girlfriend. She was fairly mature, after all. “I don’t know what you Dumb and Dumber are up to, but I swear if you–”

“I heard the news, Dana. We were just outside your window…” Dave explained, slightly tweaking the truth. “We wanted to play a stupid scary prank but then I heard it, while you were on the phone you know…”

Dana shook her head and laughed a bit. She hugged her boyfriend and kissed him.

“Yes! I got the job!” she giggled. “Sorry I’ve been so cold lately. The job interview made me so nervous…”

“It’s fine, Dana. You’ve always been stone-cold anyway!” Dave joked, earning a playful slap on his chest by his girlfriend.

“Yes, that’s a very import–wait what’s that smell?” the girl asked, sniffling loudly the air around him.

Tim’s heart almost stopped while Dave did his best to not just laugh like an immature prankster. His hair, clothes, skin, were completely “soaked” in his gassy bro’s gas, so naturally he’d himself smell like flatulence.

“Never mind. It must be you, Dave. He farts like crazy when he’s nervous, Tim, I swear.” she said, disgusted but slightly amused as well.

“Ow… it’s part of my charm, babe.” Dave replied, using what he would have considered an irresistible flirty tone of voice, which was super awkward instead.

“And yeah. Tim’s very aware of my skills, right?” he joked, winking at him, like the big teasing bastard he’s always been since he found out about his fart kink.

Tim just shrugged, faking a disgusted look, his heart racing fast, knowing that all he had to do after that was take the biggest shower in the hope that such unbearable stench didn’t fuse with the atoms in his body.

“Well, it’s gonna be a wild ride!” Dana exulted, happy about her new job offer.

“How about a round of beers to celebrate?” Tim suggested. “It’s on me, no worries.”

“Great idea, but I’m paying. I got the job, you dumb-dumbs get to drink!” Dana replied. She was in a very good mood.

“It’s fine, Dana! It’s the least we can do after-“ but Dave interrupted him.

“Come on Tim, stop living in outdated gender roles and let the pretty girl buy you a drink.” he said, faking a serious tone.

The girlfriend simply rolled her eyes and left the room “Just… meet me downstairs when you’re done saving the world, ok?”

As Dana was nowhere in sight, Dave simply turned to Tim and let another huge, long one rip.

“Shhh. Just tying up some loose ends here.” he said, shushing the gay friend, blasting what was left of his gas out.

“Are you finish-“ “Not yet” he simply said, as if he was making sure no particle of gas was left behind.

With one high pitched final note that was met with some immature laughter, Dave sighed in relief.

“With that said” he chuckled “You might want to take a shower.”

Tim simply nodded with an unamused expression.

“Oh, and you might want to leave the other closet you’ve been hiding.”

That was out of nowhere.

“No pressure bro, just know that we’re all always more than happy to have a beer with you.”

“Thanks Da-“

“Despite your bigoted views on gender roles of course.”

“I’m going to punch you now.”

The duo then headed downstairs and no one got punched luckily.

Tim thought about his friend’s words and how it was probably time to leave that metaphorical stuffy closet soon or later, not that he felt forced or anything.

Dana’s closet, however, that’s probably the only one he enjoyed being trapped into…

End of Episode 9

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Treasure Hunt

*Some wholesome fun with a little Panlix tension to garnish*

~~~

We had new toys on the island. New to me anyway.

The Lost Boys and I crowded around the beach and stared out at the ship anchored on the horizon. Pirates.

Where they had come from or why there were here was a mystery to us. But one thing was for certain, they were certain to be fun. Peter ordered all of us back to camp while he spoke to the captain. Not that most of us listened anyway. We stuck around hiding at the entrance to the jungle to see what would happen.

A single rowboat came ashore with a trio of men. One was covered head to toe in tattoos, one was short and portly with a bright red hat, and the third I had to assume was the captain. He had a tall, dark, and dangerous look about him that I’m sure plenty of tavern wenches falling all over themselves.

“Holy shit,” the boy next to me muttered softly, gaze locked on the captain.

“Snap out of it, Teddy,” I slapped the back of his head, “What would Sanjit think if he saw you drooling over someone else?”

“I think he would understand.” Teddy shrugged, “Come on, even you have to admit the man looks great.”

“He looks good, I will give him that,” I peered closer, “Does he have a hook for a hand?”

“Nice,” Teddy grinned wider. I slapped him again.

Peter and the captain talked and argued before the captain and his men got back into their boat and left for their ship. Peter turned around and addressed us hiding in the trees. “You can come out now you disobedient tree stumps,”

Half of the boys fled at having been found out while the rest of us emerged. “So what brings them here?” I asked first.

“Youth and revenge, not the first time I’ve come across that salty sailor. Have to say, he has a lot more backbone as a pirate than he did when I first met him.” Peter said. “Captain Hook he calls himself now. Sounds much more fun than leftenant Jones.”

“Is the revenge he craves against you?” Felix asked. “I could see him blaming his brother’s death on you.”

“No. He’s upset about that for sure, but apparently the Dark One killed his lover and cut off his hand. That’s who he wants to get revenge against. Figured he would have more than enough time staying here while he concocted something. Idiot doesn’t even have a way back. It’s clear he didn’t think any of this through.” Peter scoffed with a smile. “His idiocy is our gain. Tell me, what do pirates always have?”

“Drinking problems?”

“Yes, but not what I was looking for.”

“Big hats.”

“No.”

“Terrible songs!”

“Treasure!” Peter snapped, “They have treasure!”

“Oh...that makes more sense.” I nodded. “What is treasure to us? Not like we have any shops to purchase things from using any of their shiny baubles.”

“True. But it means a great deal more to them.” Peter grinned. “Tomorrow morning, we’re gonna go on a treasure hunt.”

When we got back to camp those of us that stuck around informed the others about what had happened with Peter and the pirates. Many of them were excited about the idea of a treasure hunt. By the time dawn broke the camp was abuzz with anticipation.

“Morning everyone,” Peter greeted his camp, “Last night your fearless leader, me, snuck aboard the pirate’s ship and stole their chest of treasure right out from under their nose.” The camp whooped with cheer. Peter held up his hand to silence the boys. “I have now hidden it somewhere on the island. First person to find it is King for the day. That is...if any of you flopping codfish can find it.”

The boys jeered and raced off in all directions to find the treasure. I had started to run off with them when I remembered I didn’t have a weapon. Knowing the boys they would get violent and try to steal the treasure from one another when it was found. I needed something to defend myself with. I turned around to head back to the now abandoned camp.

I ducked into my tent to find a suitable weapon when I heard voices in the camp. I poked my head out and saw Felix and Peter were the only ones still around. I understood why Peter was still here but why was Felix?

“How long do you think they’ll be out searching for the treasure?” Felix asked Peter.

“They’ll search all day and probably into the night before giving up.” Peter laughed, “The whole time they’re digging around dark caves and in rotten tree trunks the chest is safely buried by the mermaid lagoon. None of them are going near there and even if they do none of them will think to start digging.”

“Maybe I should go dig it up then,” Felix said, “Let myself be crowned king for the day.”

“Now where is the fun in that? Let them struggle for a good while first.” Peter looked around the camp and I quickly closed the flap of my tent. I don’t think he would be too happy about my eavesdropping. “It’s nice to have some peace and quiet around here for once. The noise can get grating at times.”

“I understand that better than most,” Felix’s voice answered. “Even rarer that our Lost Girl isn’t hanging about. Seems she sticks around you more than usual.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Felix?”

“You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious and she’s a good friend.” Peter said. “I still cannot believe that you and those other idiots thought that we were interested in one another. As if I would actually even want to be with her.”

Okay. Ouch. And incorrect! He was the one that assumed that I was confessing my love to him the night I came out to him and said he was okay trying to have a romantic relationship with me. We agreed it wouldn’t work out between us after I told him I was gay but this was needless slander. Got to keep up appearances for the boys I suppose. Can’t let them know he actually considered me at some point. However brief it may have been.

“Not your type, huh?” Felix joked.

“No…” Peter said, “Has a lot of traits I do like. She’s straightforward, bloodthirsty, knows how to have fun, doesn’t take any of my shit, which is refreshing,”

“What are you talking about? I don’t take any of your bullshit either.” Felix said, his voice rising a tad.

“I know, Felix, that’s part of the reason I like you too.”

The camp was silent.

“You know, makes you a good friend too, a great second in command.” Peter continued after a beat.

“Good to know,” Felix sighed. “I’m going to refill my canteen.”

“Felix--”

“What?” Felix snapped at him. The harshness in his tone made even me freeze and it wasn’t even directed at me.

“Nothing…” Peter’s steps receded, “I’m going to go watch the boys run in circles.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Felix muttered before trudging off.

I waited a few more minutes before poking my head out to make sure the coast was clear. That was something. Those two have more issues than I thought. If they could get a nudge in the right direction--no! No! I am not getting myself involved in their problems.

I grabbed the sword I had come to retrieve and fled the camp. At the very least I know where the treasure is now! I ran towards the mermaid lagoon. It was deserted of Lost Boys but I could see the ripple in the water of the mermaids lurking right below the the surface, waiting and hoping I would venture closer so they could pull me down and drown me. I only made that mistake once when I was very new on the island. They were very pretty and I thought maybe they would be friendly towards a girl. I was soon proven how very wrong I was when one of them pulled me under the water and the Lost Boys had to come in and rescue me before I drowned.

Scanning the sand I found a patch that looked like it had been pretty recently disturbed. I started digging with my hands until I felt the solid weight of wood. I dug around it until the very top was uncovered. How was I supposed to get it out by myself? It was firmly stuck in the ground and getting it free by myself would be near impossible.

Maybe I could just grab something to prove that I had found it and cover it back up. I dug my hand down into the sand for the latch and pried it open. Inside laid a wealth of gold coins, gems, jewelry, and other shiny baubles. I stuffed a handful of coins and gems in my pocket and slid a pair of shining, jewel encrusted bracelets onto my wrists. That should be enough. I closed the lid and covered the chest once more. I decided to mess with the boys while waiting for it to grow later and dropped random coins and jewels around the jungle so they would think they were heading in the right direction.

By the time night fell the boys had returned to camp despondent. Some holding up the coins and jewels I had strewn about with a small amount of disdain. Peter was back to his jovial self but looked confused at the boys holding coins. Surely he hadn’t let anything fall out when he stole the chest.

That was my cue. I strolled into the middle of the camp and raised my glittering wrists to the sky. “Bow before your queen!”

“What?” Peter gaped at me. “There’s no way you found the chest!”

“Oh but I did,” I dug into my pockets and tossed the remaining coins I had onto the ground. “That chest was so big and heavy though I couldn’t take the whole thing myself but I think this is sufficient enough evidence.”

“Wait, were you the one leaving coins and jewels all over the island?” one of the boys pointed at me, accusingly.

“Duh,” I rolled my eyes, “I needed to have my own fun.”

“Never let it be said that I’m not a man of my word,” Peter gave an exaggerated bow, “Our dear Lost Girl shall be Queen for the day...or at least for the rest of the night.”

Some of the boys cheered, a lot more of the jealous boys booed. I didn’t care. I basked in the attention and laughed with the others at the silly antics the boys did to entertain their “queen” like court jesters. It was all in good fun, Peter even fashioned me a crown of sticks and leaves.

I pulled him over to dance with me. “So,” I spoke up to be heard over the pounding music, “How long till the pirates find out you stole their treasure and come to hunt us down for taking it?”

“Who knows,” Peter shrugged, “it’s sure to be fun though.”

I laughed along with him as the night grew late and my night of queendom came to an end. The game would begin again tomorrow but with the chest in a new spot. Looks as if I’ll actually have to hunt for it this time. Not a problem, I liked a good challenge.

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #peter pan imagine #platonic pairing #lesbian reader

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androgynousblackbox · 3 years

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have you seen the latest RaM episode? I was hoping to see if you had any thoughts about it! I really liked the exploration and the going off the gotdamb rails with the decoys. Also that scene with rick just. dick out and making morty peek at his ass for No actual reason sndhs

Don't forget the fact that his family didn't questioned for a single second that it should be MORTY the one to look into Rick's ass, like there was never anyone else but Morty who should be do it. It was gross, sure, but also such a... "guys would be guys" moment but not in the violent/toxic way but on the silly and unnecesary way, you know? Like Morty called it "punishment" and, sure, nobody wants to be farted into their face, but I can see Rick pulling a similar move on just any friend he feels like pranking to and, on a way, that was kinda wholesome. Okay, so I am going to pour my thoughts about this and the other episode as I usually do here so bear with me: -The fact that Summer IMMEDIATELY picked on what could go wrong about the whole decoy thing, and Rick has to aknowledge that Summer was smarter than this on this regard. This to me is talking again about how Summer IS actually smarter, emotional and socially wise (meaning with interelationships at least), that she could tell that if one Rick thinking he is not a decoy was going to make decoys then of course other Ricks would have the same idea. But Rick never saw this coming because he was only thinking of the decoys as instruments to be used and disposed, even as he was giving them actual personalities and filled their memories with real ones. He never considered they could go on to make their own because, well, they are not This Rick and this Rick is the smartest man in the universe, the guy that unironically think himself to be god, so OBVOUSLY think only HE would be capable of pulling that off. -The fact the immediately after a Rick wins while proclaiming himself "not a man, I am god!" only to be killed by what is essentially JUST A TOY, some little creature that was MEANT to be killed but got pissed when nobody did it. A literal "god" got eliminated for something fucking mundane that didn't even had to do with the main conflict. He doesn't even understand WHY this little dude just killed him, he died with uncertainty, and if that isn't the most human experience ever then I don't know. -With this episode and the first one, I HOPE this season is going to be about desconstructing Rick thinking himself above anything else. I said this before, but I don't trust fans who truly believe Rick is entitled to do anything he wants and be shitty with everyone because he is smart. It seems to be like these two episode literally adressed that kind of attitude by putting Rick on situations where not even he can get out of and revealing he is, in fact, still just a flawed human being. A major criticism that many people have levered against the show is that yes, we know Rick is sad and miserable, but the show still goes out of it's way to keep making him win on anything he wants (most of the time at least) and thus is signaling to the audience the idea that he is always right, that he should be always right, because he has the power to do anything he wants. The very first episode start with Rick about to fucking die with all his regrets ("I am a silly man, a silly old man") and then he is saved BY MORTY. If it wasn't because of Morty being there that would be it, they both would be gone. -The previous season was already descontructing Rick as the patriarch of the house and show how nobody "needs him" on the same way they needed him on the first season. The only character you could argue still gives a fuck about Rick's approval/recognition is Summer, but even then Summer was never submissive and passive like Season One Morty was to Rick, instantly believing anything he said. Plus, we all know that Rick COULD take Summer on all his adventures and she would never complain about it because she doesn't give a fuck about school anyway. But he still insist on taking Morty instead, despite his protests, because he just likes Morty better than Summer and he does not take well with Morty not relying on him. I don't fucking buy the whole "cancelling brain waves" excuse anymore because, come on, there is a million ways in which Rick could circunvent that problem if he wanted to

but he just prefers keep Morty around. -On the first episode Rick literally says "let me deus ex machina out of here". Deus ex machina literally means the hand of god because in ancient greek mythology many plays would have an element of a literal hand coming from the sky to take the characters out of any problem they are in. And it didn't worked! He needed Mr Nimbus to save them. Because he is not fucking god, and the show is finally showing us concrete evidence of this, while Rick is still the only one with this delusion on his head and this delusion is part of his downfall. The whole second episode is nothing else but Rick's ego fucking him in the ass, literally killing him over and over again. -Beth was GREAT rejoicing on Rick's existential crisis and she fucking deserved that moment, I am glad they gave it to her. -The way so many of the decoys decided to react to knowing they were decoys was so amazing. Like yeah, a majority of them decided to be all "oh no, there can only be one", but many other just off themselves because they couldn't handle not being The Original, insisting to the last moment that they MUST be the original because, well, that is what they think, and then other decoys were just ready to accept death because they had accepted there was no other way. -The only wish of Summer to be on the ocean was... so wholesome? Like it made for a beautiful scene in general, but then they dying hand by hand and just happy to be together, Rick apoligizing to Morty because they couldn't make his wish come true, such a good moment. -The fact that all those Ricks made decoys purely out of a sincere desire to protect his family, it's just great. It was still selfish to basically create life with the only purpose of it being destroyed, but it was motivated as another security measure to protect others, not just himself. -The skin wearing Rick on the swamps talking about "a Rick must provide for his family". Ricks CARE about their family so much. -The puppet Smits were so cute, I loved their voices. -THE MUPPET SMITHS. Even if it was nothing but a costume, it was cute and I want them on Pocket Mortys. -This scene is a Call Me By Your Name reference and nobody tells me otherwise:

As I explained on a server: 1. Italian. The movie happens on Italy. 2. Pool. Many crucial scenes include a pool. 3. Age difference. If they just wanted to imply Morty was flirting they could have used just an older teenager, they didn't need a literal hunk that kinda looks like the older character on the movie. 4. THERE IS FUCKING PEACHES ON THE FOREFRONT. If anyone saw Call me by your name, they know they literally fucked a peach at some point and then the love interest EATS IT ANYWAY. And what does it look like the guy Morty is with is eating? PEACHES. 5. Parents are watching and don't give a fuck. 6. I have decided. -Regardless if it's a reference or not, though, is still pretty fucking gay. -I have seen some fans theorizing that the Smith family we see in the end with Space Beth was our own, and at first I thought so too because they are with Space Beth but then I was... wait a minute, ALL Beth decoys knew there was a Space Beth. They went out of their way to show us this by always having Beth being the one who insisted that no decoy had to die, because she knew what was to feel like a copy. When Rick decided to make another family exactly as his own, he also made HIMSELF expendable and interchangeable. We don't need thirty Smith families, the show only needs one and it doesn't matter which one is it as long is one we can recognize. Why couldn't that have been another decoy family that just so happened to want to do a space trip while all the bullshit was happening? I don't think they are ever going to confirm if this was our original Smith family or don't, just like they won't confirm which Beth is the clone, but I personally think it would be fucking hilarious if they were a decoy and Our Rick just died thinking he was a decoy. -Also the way that Space Beth was just casually putting an arm around Morty made me so happy. Considering that Beth is also the mother who prefered to save Summer over Morty when their lives were in danger, I really like the idea that Space Beth sees how much Morty has grown and is proud of him for becoming a badass himself without Rick's help. That is just my headcanon though, but wouldn't be nice to have SOMEONE appreciate Morty? -Finally, but not less important... Rick knew Morty uses a yosemite shirt in order to cum. This man literally knew about the masturbatory habits of his grandson. Rick went as far on his desire to protect his family he used that knowledge for the decoys. He also told Morty to not fuck his double, which is a nice little reference to Morty literally doing that on the comics but also a subtle way to tell us that Morty is definitely Not Straight because, yeah, I am fucking counting selfcest as a form of queerness because regardless of everything else, that is still two identifying male characters fucking. We only need Beth showing attraction to some female character and the entire Smith family would be officially pan/bi.

#rick and morty spoilers #andro is talking

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julemmaes · 4 years

Text

What The

Prompt sent by @sayosdreams: Ezra goes on his first date

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: definitely not what I had planned for this prompt, but I’m not sad nor surprised. Ezra is 16, almost 17, Andra is 6 and the others don’t appear. But we’re introduced to Dara (MorxAndromache’s son) who is 16, Nia (AmrenxVarian’s daughter) who is 15, and Chelo (EmeriexAzriel’s second daughter) who is 6 and Fabien (FeyrexRhysand’s second son) who is 7 are mentioned.

Fic masterlist

Word count: 6,692

Ezra didn't know he could be so embarrassed for someone else. And so scared for his own personal safety.

When Nia and Dara had told him they'd found him someone to go out with, he'd never expected the guy in question to be...well, like this.

Daniel was peculiar.

When he'd seen him arrive at the bus stop where they'd arranged to meet, Ezra had immediately felt a creepy feeling of unease, which had only increased out of all proportion when the boy whose last name he didn't even know yet had hugged him like his grandmother did every time they visited.

Ezra had stood motionless with his eyebrows pinned to his hairline for a full minute while the other one formally introduced himself, reaching out a hand toward him. He'd seen her nails polished a cheerful pastel blue and had smiled, trying to quell that wrong feeling in the back of his mind, "I like your nails."

Daniel had chuckled disturbingly - the sound still etched in Ezra's mind - and then made a very serious face, "It's to let others know I'm so gay."

The Navarro boy hadn't commented, not wanting to make an immediate bad impression with his date, but he'd found at least five ways to retort to that immense bullshit.

Daniel had linked their arms together and told him he'd take him to his favorite spot, and Ezra had been hesitant with all that physical touch. Not because he wasn't used to having someone around all the time touching him in one way or another, but because Daniel seemed like the kind of person who had no idea what boundaries were and he wasn't keen on being kissed out of the blue.

"So, what are you?" he had suddenly asked him.

Ezra had arched an eyebrow, confused, "What am I?"

"Yes, what are you silly," the other had chuckled. Silly? What the- "Gay, bi, pan?" Ezra had been dumbfounded, and he was sure that if Daniel hadn't been dragging him along, he would have gotten stuck in the middle of the sidewalk. He'd blinked a few times, trying to figure out why someone would ask such a thing for no apparent reason. When he'd still been silent, looking for an answer that wouldn't make him look like a complete idiot, Daniel had asked him again, giving him a light shove.

Erza had looked at him at that point, his expression somewhere between surprised and furious, "I don't know yet, I'm trying to figure it out."

"Oh, poor thing, I'm sure you'll understand after tonight." and again that creepy giggle, "I'll make sure this date makes you realize you're completely gay."

He hadn't told anyone he was going on a date that night, only his two best friends, and in that moment he couldn't have regretted his decision more.

He'd made up an excuse for his parents and Cassian and Nesta were now home chilling, probably doing what they did every Saturday night when they somehow managed to get rid of their kids, but Ezra just wanted to call his mom and get the hell out of that fast food.

He made a disgusted grimace, moving a chip with a handkerchief, too afraid that he would catch some kind of disease if he actually touched that food, when something under the table caught his attention. He opened his eyes wide when he realized it was a cockroach and had to suppress a gag.

"Are you okay, Ezzy?" Daniel asked him in a squeaky voice - Danny, as he'd asked him to call him when they'd arrived at the venue, "You look a little pale."

Ezra looked up at the boy, unsure whether to tell him for the tenth time that he hated that stupid nickname he'd stuck on him almost an hour ago or to let it go and try to enjoy the rest of the evening. Staring at the individual in front of him for a second too long, he gave him the most fake smile he could muster, replying simply, "Everything's fine." even if it was anything but fine. He certainly couldn't tell him that he never wanted to hear another word come out of his mouth, or that the place creeped him out so much that he was sure he'd have nightmares for the rest of his life. Or that the group of guys sitting at the table next to them looked at them so wrong every time he used the word gay that he wouldn't be surprised if they ended the night running away from them.

He'd done so many little things to make him uncomfortable that Ezra was wondering if he wasn't doing it on purpose, if he was on some kind of candid camera and if his friends would be coming out of the kitchen any minute, laughing at his misfortunes.

"That's good." resumed Daniel, then took a bite of his sandwich and some sauce, which should have been any other color but the one it was, fell on the table, "Anyway, back to what we were talking about before."

Ezra winced, closing his eyes and trying not to breathe in the awful smell of dirty water that hovered around the place. He didn't want to go back to the conversation from before. He wanted to run away.

"The first time I came out was when I was eight years old and everyone called me names, like I was telling you." Daniel nodded, continuing to chew with his mouth open, and Ezra could only avoid looking at him for a short time before the boy demanded they make eye contact. He'd explicitly asked him several times.

"Oh and then of course the first Gay Pride I went to was only a few years ago, because you know, they don't do any in Velaris and never will, duh." the boy said making an x with his fingers as he shook his head. Ezra chuckled at that gesture, more out of desperation than anything else, and Daniel seemed to take it as an invitation to continue, because he launched into a detailed description of his first time having "gay sex" with someone.

He shut his brain down, planting a tugged smile on his lips and hoping the torture would end soon.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out as Daniel said, "I kissed someone for the first time when I was ten, a boy of course." He jumped from topic to topic with such ease that Ezra struggled to keep up with him and was a little grateful for that.

It was a text from Nia asking him how the date was going and that she and Dara were at the latter's house, waiting for him to ask to pick him up. He typed a reply quickly, offending her in every way possible for putting him in such a situation and begging her to come as soon as possible. He turned off the screen, putting his phone back in his pocket and then leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow as his brain perceived the words "blood" and "anal."

A not at all pleasant sensation began to blossom at the pit of his stomach.

He breathed through his nose deeply and regretted it soon after. If he hadn't ended up throwing up that night or dying, he would have given himself a weekend at a spa with the full package, sauna and all that crap and he would have forced Nia to pay for it. It was his friend's fault that he was now in this pathetic situation.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts and completely externalize himself from the outside world - something he'd learned to do on long trips to Illyria when his siblings decided to have a tantrum all at once. When Daniel didn't stop for another ten minutes and Ezra vaguely heard the word orgasm, he stood up abruptly, bringing his hands close to his ears in case he didn't stop talking.

Daniel brought one hand to his mouth and the other to his chest, startled by that sudden outburst from him.

"Ezzy..." he murmured, "what's wrong?"

Ezra clenched his hands into fists, closing his eyes. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was intensifying more and more, "Stop calling me that, please." then he stared into his eyes, leaning forward, "I asked you to stop two hours ago. Two hours."

Daniel stared at him open-mouthed, some chewed food was visible and Ezra was forced to turn away, trying to erase the image from his mind, but he heard it anyway when he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

Ezra huffed out a laugh and the group of older boys, who had been watching them since they entered the fast food restaurant, stared at him with somber expressions, then shifted their gazes to Daniel. He brought his attention back to Daniel in turn and said in a low voice so that no one would hear him, "I'm sorry to have to tell you like this, but there won't be a second date and this one ends here."

He didn't even wait to see Daniel's reaction, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He shivered in the cold of the city and looked around, lost. He had no idea where he was. He didn't know what part of town that fast food was in, and he couldn't understand how Nia knew the place existed. He walked down the main street, hoping to find something - a store, a bus stop, anything - that would help him figure out where he was.

He had just finished slipping on his jacket when he felt a hand tighten around his wrist and pull hard enough to make him stumble backwards. He didn't even realize he was falling until his back hit the ground and the air rushed out of his lungs so violently that it shocked him. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. Panic didn't have time to make its way through his body that someone was pulling him up by force.

Ezra kicked his feet in the air, looking around, unsure whether to scream for help and trying hard to free himself from the stranger's grasp, when he realized with horror that it was Daniel.

The all too cheerful and bright eyes that had characterized that basic little face until that moment, that had frightened but more than anything else bored Ezra to the point of exhaustion, now shone with a new emotion and he was petrified to realize that he looked like another person entirely. It was anger, pure rage in the boy's pupils.

"Daniel-" he tried to say to get him to let go.

Daniel was still clutching the front of his shirt and shook his head when he said his name, "I don't get it, what is it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side smiling, "You don't like to talk about me being gay because you haven't figured out what you are yet?"

What was wrong with this guy?

Ezra's eyes were wide and he couldn't speak. He was afraid Daniel would hit him.

After all, he didn't know him. He didn't know anything about the person in front of him other than the fact that the only trait in his personality was being gay. He hadn't been able to get anything personal out of him, nothing about what school he attended, nothing about his family, his hobbies.

A sheer, unmitigated terror made its way through his mind as he realized that Daniel could easily have been even much older than he said he was.

"Let me go." murmured Ezra, clasping his hands around his wrists. The only certainty he had at that moment was the fact that Daniel wouldn't be able to pull out any kind of sharp object to hurt him as long as he had his hands on Ezra.

Daniel wasn't that much bigger than him, he was a few inches shorter, but Ezra wasn't the kind of guy who would get into fights and win. No, he wasn't like his brother. He was more the type who got pushed into the fight and ended up with a broken nose because he didn't want to hurt the other guy.

The door to the fast food restaurant opened behind him and he tried hard to block out the shaking of his hands, of his lower lip. He couldn't take his eyes off Daniel's, too scared that if he even moved a finger, the other would snap.

"Everything okay out here?" someone asked, a deep, gravelly voice.

Daniel's eyes snapped over his shoulder and loosened their grip on his shirt. Ezra took the opportunity to push him away. Cursing, he fell backwards again, cushioning his fall with his hands and felt a sharp pain go up his arm. Hissing, he brought the limb to his chest, clutching it with his other hand.

Arms slipped under his shoulders, helping him pull himself up, "Here."

As soon as he was on his feet, Ezra took three steps back, moving away from both men in front of him.

He realized with no small amount of dread that the newcomer was one of the boys who had been watching them all evening. He cursed mentally this time, trying to think his way out of the fucked up situation.

How had he ended up there?

How had he ended up in the ugliest neighborhood in all of Velaris just because he wanted to go on a date?

Daniel was looking at the man now, much bigger and bulkier than the two of them combined, and Ezra heard a bicycle bell ring in the distance.

The heads of all three snapped toward the sound, but the only one who started running toward the two approaching figures was Ezra. He heard Daniel yell his name, but that only prompted him to run faster.

Nia was flailing around, swinging dangerously on her bike, and she didn't seem to notice the condition he was in, because she was smiling like a little girl on Christmas morning, but Dara was.

"Nia, come here." Ezra heard him say even at that distance. The girl must have heard something in her boyfriend's tone too, because she bolted beside him and got off her bike silently. Ezra continued to run at breakneck speed until he was in front of his best friends and got on the bike Nia had just left behind. He ordered them both to take off with short breaths and Dara to pedal as fast as he could before darting off down the road.

The boy in question waited until Nia was safely settled on the rack before turning the bike around and following Ezra down the half-lit street.

What the hell had just happened?

***

"I think we should call aunt Nesta," Nia said, with a grave expression.

Dara shook his head, reaching behind her and resting an arm on the back of the bench, starting to play with a strand of her hair, "She'll riot if she finds out what happened."

Nia looked at him frowning, "So you think we should handle it?"

Dara nodded, reducing his lips to a thin line.

"The us-handling-it ended with Ezra almost getting himself killed," she pointed out to him, "I think we've done enough for tonight."

"Speaking of," Ezra murmured. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, his eyes closed, convinced that if he opened them he'd start crying. "Where the fuck did you find someone like that?"

A shiver ran through his body and he didn't know if it was because of the memory of Daniel or because they insisted on spending their Saturday nights in the cold backyard of Dara's house.

Nia scratched the back of her neck, "A friend told me she had a friend who was busting her balls because he's been single for too long and he reminded me of someone." she gave him a pointed look and shrugged, "I didn't think he'd be a psycho."

Dara chuckled tiredly and Ezra lifted his head to look at him, "Why are you laughing, that was terrifying." he repeated for the billionth time. "I don't think I'll ever date again."

"Actually as a first date it kinda sucked," mumbled the girl yawning. Erza knew they were both dead tired and it wouldn't make any difference if he stayed over at his aunt Mor's or went back to his house, either way he would find himself alone in a bed. He might as well avoid a sleepless night because of Nia's snoring.

Truth be told, he would have preferred to be cuddled by his sisters, but he would never admit that out loud.

He opened and closed the fingers of his left hand, wincing every time the cut on his wrist joint moved.

Nia was watching him closely, "You should probably disinfect that."

Ezra huffed, closing his eyes and scratching his eyebrow, "I'll do it when I get home."

"Do you want me to call your mother?" she offered, understanding immediately. Dara nodded beside her.

He thought about it and then shook his head, getting up and picking up the phone, "If you call her she'll think I'm dead or something bad happened - which is true," he nodded, dialing Nesta's number, and bringing the device to his ear, "but she doesn't need to know over the phone."

She answered on the first third ring.

"Ezra? What's wrong?" she asked with bated breath.

The boy grimaced, immediately realizing he had interrupted something, and Dara burst out laughing. By now it was common knowledge what his parents did every Saturday night. Even Dara's moms had their Wednesdays after all.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," he narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose, "but, is there any way you could pick me up?"

Nesta didn't answer right away, but Ezra clearly heard the shifting of the sheets and the uncertain movements on the other side of the line and his father asked worriedly, "What happened?"

"I don't know-" Nesta answered him in a muffled voice, then more clearly, "Ezra everything alright? Are you okay?" anxiety lacing her words.

Fuck, this was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Making his parents worry about things that could easily be avoided was perhaps the thing he hated most in the world.

Casting a quick glance at his friends, he replied, "You know what, nothing, nevermind, I'll stay here and be back in the morning, don't worry about it." he tried to fake a smile, even though his mother couldn't see it and Dara scoffed, standing up and nearly knocking over Nia who was leaning on his shoulder, "Pass it to me." he murmured.

Ezra pulled away, reaching an arm out to his friend to hold him back as Dara smiled and reached for his phone.

"Where are you now?" asked Nesta urgently. More frantic movement on the other end of the phone, "I've got you on speaker."

Ezra grunted when Dara jabbed a finger into his ribs, "At aunt Mor's." he let out a giggle when he escaped his friend and started running around the garden, "But don't worry, I'm here with Dara and Nia, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Love, you never called me to pick you up in sixteen years of living," the woman pointed out to him. She heard her father agree with her as he warned her that he would wait for her in the car, "Even if nothing happened, something has to have and I don't want to put unnecessary burdens on Mor or Em. We're on our way." Ezra was about to retort when the beep beep of the call being closed rumbled through the phone.

The boy huffed, stopping his run abruptly, and Dara slammed into him, nearly knocking them both over. They burst out laughing as they pushed and pulled in a non-violent fight.

As they fell on top of each other, starting to tickle each other, Nia snickered from the porch, leaning against the railing, "How nice it is to have a boyfriend who has a boyfriend."

"You love us." both boys shouted, opening their eyes and mouths wide and looking at each other immediately after, "Aah, twins." they said again simultaneously. They burst out laughing and Nia ran a hand over her face, warning them that she was going into the house.

Dara stood up at that point, pushing Ezra away, but he helped him up anyway and they silently joined her, trying not to wake Mor and Emerie who were resting on the couch undisturbed. His friend asked him to warn his mother not to ring the bell, so that she wouldn't wake up his moms, and Ezra smiled and nodded.

Dara was the only child of aunts Mor and Em. He was only a few months younger than Ezra, but had been adopted when he was already two years old. Of course, none of the three could remember a day without the other two, and although Dara and Nia had been together for a few months now - after years and years of banter - the dynamics of the group had never changed.

Although Nia had become a little more possessive now where Dara was concerned, it was never really about jealousy. Ezra was just scared when she took on that stern expression that also characterized her mother Amren and threatened him with death when he accidentally hurt Dara during one of their friendly fights.

They entered the bedroom and Nia was already sprawled out on the mattress like a starfish. A soft snoring sounded in the room and Ezra shook his head, "How is she already asleep?"

Dara didn't answer him, but smiled slightly, looking at the shapeless mass of hair that hid the girl's face. He walked over to the bed, grabbing a blanket from the chair and trying to cover her entirely, but from the position she was in, an arm or leg would always be exposed to the chill air.

Ezra felt his heart tighten in his chest, "You're lucky." he whispered.

Dara snorted, looking up at him with a curled brow, "Don't go soft on me, you know we'll both start crying then." then he turned back to Nia, moving her hair out of her face, "It's also after eleven, if we start talking about this stuff I could seriously cry." an even wider smile made its way onto his lips and a twin one appeared on Ezra's. Plus, if Nia woke up with both of them crying, she wasn't going to let them live it down.

Dara and Nia had come before Cal and Nora, before Nate, Theo, and everyone else. Ezra didn't know what it would be like without them, and he never wanted to find out.

"You know, though, yeah," Dara whispered once they had settled into the bean bag chairs, "we're lucky."

Ezra looked into his eyes, yawning, "Do you think my mom will let me go to sleep without an interrogation?"

Dara grinned, "Are we talking about the same Nesta who kept us up an entire night just because she kept losing at UNO?" he reminded him of that deadly night a few years earlier, "Because I'm sure that a person who is willing to keep three whining babies awake just to win at a stupid game isn't going to let something that relevant go until they get their revenge."

Ezra groaned, closing his eyes, "I don't even know how to approach the subject."

"What part?" Dara then asked, watching him closely, "That you also like boys or that one guy almost smashed your face."

"Not helping." he deadpanned.

"No, but seriously," he pulled his legs up, crossing them underneath him, "I know your whole-" he moved a hand in midair, pointing to Ezra's head, "thinking and I don't want to make you more anxious than you need to be, but what if they don't react like you always thought they would?"

Ezra had thought about this countless times, about how his parents might react to such an admission, but the outcome had never bothered him much. He didn't really conceive the concept of coming out when you were growing up in a family like his. He didn't like the idea of having to specify to his parents that one day he might bring home someone who wasn't a woman.

One of his father's closest friends was a lesbian and her son was sitting across from him. If his parents had any objections to that, they would certainly have told him or talked about it.

He was sure it wouldn't have sparked any reaction in his parents.

"It'll be fine." said Ezra only.

"Definitely." Dara dropped his head back, "So how do you plan to introduce the I-went-out-with-a-crazy-man instead?"

Ezra shook his head, "I don't?"

"I'm serious." the other replied, closing his eyes.

"So am I."

They remained silent, Dara surely having realized Ezra didn't want to talk about Daniel anymore.

"What are you planning on doing for Valentine's Day?" he asked suddenly.

Dara chuckled, "I have a girlfriend now man, we can't go out anymore, you and I."

"You dumbass," Ezra insulted him, "I meant with Nia. Where are you taking her?"

Dara pulled himself up, stretching his arms overhead. The boy couldn't sit still for half a minute. "Actually I think she wants to take me somewhere and I'll let her," he nodded thoughtfully, "Although I'm kind of terrified she's going to take me into the woods and kill me, I'm going to activate the location on my phone so you'll always know where I am."

Ezra didn't laugh, he just nodded. The phone vibrated in his hand and his stomach twisted again.

"We're out." the message from his mother read.

He looked up at Dara and found his friend watching him, who gave him an encouraging smile.

They bid each other goonight with their secret handshake and then Ezra walked out of the room just as Dara lifted Nia and tucked her under the covers, laying down next to her.

***

"Are you going to tell us what's going on or are we going to have to guess?" asked Cassian looking over his shoulder once he was in the car.

They were already halfway home and Ezra had only said hello to them, in a very controlled tone of voice, but his mother had tossed back in her seat and stared into his eyes for what had seemed like hours before shifting her gaze to her husband and saying, "Yeah, something happened."

She had watched him for so long that he couldn't understand how she hadn't seen the bloodstain on his sweatshirt. He pulled up the zipper on his jacket, already thinking about how he could remove the stain from the fabric.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he tried to ask. He was looking out the window, but he could feel both his parents' eyes on him.

"Can you sleep if you don't talk about it, or are you going to be up all night?" asked Cassian again, "Because if it's the latter, I'd rather talk about it now."

Ezra closed his eyes, thinking about what to answer. "Is Andra home?" he asked softly.

Nesta nodded, "She's been asleep for a couple of hours though. She's been playing all day with Fabien and Chelo and was dead tired." she said in a chipper tone, "How come?"

"I'm taking her to my room." he replied only.

His mother turned to him again, this time with a lopsided smile on her face, "It's not like she's a dog."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled back, "but at least I'll sleep better."

"Alright, we'll talk about it tomorrow though," Nesta told him. He merely nodded.

Not even two minutes passed and Cassian asked, "Did you have a fight with Dara?"

Ezra nearly burst out laughing, "No, Dad."

"With Nia?"

"Cass." his mom admonished him.

The man turned to her with a mock confused expression, "What?"

"He told us he'd talk about it tomorrow, stop it."

Cassian huffed, "Fine."

As soon as they arrived home, Ezra said goodnight to both of them and went straight to his room. He slipped off his jacket and got into his pajama pants, grabbing his shirt and heading to the bathroom to try and clean his sweatshirt as best he could.

He remained shirtless as he searched the drawers for cotton wool and wound sanitizer. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as he spilled some of the liquid on his cut. It wasn't too long or deep, but it had bled him quite a bit, especially considering he hadn't stopped moving his hand half a second, preventing the skin from healing.

He'd definitely done it to himself when he got free of Daniel, but he hadn't realized he'd hurt himself that badly until he'd gotten to Dara's house and Nia had seen the red stain on his sweatshirt. He cleaned the cut from the dried blood, changing cotton balls after the first one had turned completely red.

He turned on the water, running his entire forearm under it, when the bathroom door opened and his mother's head popped into view. At any other time he would have told her that she had to knock before entering their bathroom, that he might be naked, but upon seeing the color drain from her face, he remained silent.

He turned off the faucet, cupping his hand over his wrist as Nesta entered the bathroom and stared in pure terror at the cotton wool and blood on the sink. He hadn't seen his mother so scared since the day he'd broken his arm.

"Mom..." whispered Ezra, stepping forward, toward her.

"What happened?" she asked bringing a hand to her throat. Then she looked into his eyes, "Did you do it yourself?"

Ezra frowned, confused. Then the shock of what his mother's newly spoken words implied hit him and he shook his head, wincing. "No, god- no mom. I-"

Nesta moved until she was in front of him and gently took his arm, moving his hand from his wrist until she saw the cut and sighed. Whether in relief or otherwise, Ezra didn't know.

"You need to tell me what's going on, and no, you can't go to bed without telling me what you did tonight first," she murmured to him, without looking at his face. She had taken another piece of cotton and was dabbing at his wrist with the gentleness that only a mother with her children could have, checking for soil residue or anything else.

"Nesta?"

Ezra winced when he heard his father's voice calling to her.

Mom looked him in the eye, tossing the wadded up bits, "If you promise me that as soon as you get out of here you'll come talk to us, I'll go out now and let you get ready for the night in peace." she told him.

She was looking at him with so much emotion that Ezra regretted even thinking about lying to her and telling her he just fell off his bike. Besides, if it had been about something so stupid, he would have told her right away and she knew it. So, lowering his gaze to the floor, he nodded, "I promise."

Stepping out, she picked up the clothes Ezra had left on the floor and then he was alone again. He brushed his teeth, thinking about how to deal with this. He grabbed a band-aid from Celia's locker - she used more than anyone else put together because of soccer - and then slipped on his pajama shirt, leaving the bathroom and heading for his parents' room. Halfway down the hallway he turned around and stopped with his hand on the doorknob of his room. He closed his eyes, smacking his forehead against the wood, "Let's do this."

He didn't have time to knock that his parents' door opened and Cassian looked at him differently than he always did, looked at him like he was trying to read his mind. Ezra felt himself blush for the first time in a long time and shifted his gaze to his mother, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him.

Ezra slipped into the room, sitting down at the end of the bed. Nesta settled against the bedpost and Cassian sat down, facing the wall. He couldn't see his father's face, but he sensed his concern as waves radiated from his body.

"I had a date tonight." mumbled Ezra playing with the blanket, but keeping his eyes on his mother.

Nesta opened her mouth slightly wide in surprise, then closed it again, composing herself, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"How did it go?" asked Cassian, turning to face him.

Ezra scratched his head, "Bad."

"I'm sorry." his mother told him with as much sincerity in her voice as she could muster. Then she cast a quick glance at his dad and Ezra took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. "How did it get so bad?"

"The other one wasn't exactly sane," he said, brushing the patch with his fingers.

Cassian stiffened and flexed his fingers several times, "Did she do anything to you?"

Ezra felt his heart start to beat a little faster, "He was-" then he stopped, looking at his parents. Neither Nesta nor Cassian seemed the least bit touched by what he'd just said. "He was peculiar."

They waited for him to speak, giving him time to process.

"He immediately started touching me and normally-"

His father interrupted him, "Touching you?" he asked in a low voice.

Ezra had never heard that tone of voice before. He had never seen Cassian's eyes grow so dark, his jaw so taut. Everything in the man's body screamed anger. His mother had pulled herself up straighter and extended a hand toward her husband, as if she needed physical support to deal with such a conversation.

He was quick to specify, "Hugs, he was always trying to find a way to touch my hands, my face, and normally it wouldn't bother me, but it was the first time I'd seen him and god, I don't even know his fucking last name." he didn't bother not to say the bad word. He knew his mother didn't care right then and he needed to vent. Cassian nodded and while Nesta seemed to have relaxed a bit, his father hadn't lost that feeling of hatred that was rippling across his face.

"He talked the whole time about things purely related to the fact that he was gay and he went into detail." he said with wide eyes, "And he demanded that we look at each other while he talked and that made me uncomfortable in no small part and the place he took me to." he shuddered, "It looked like something out of one of those TV shows that Celia always watches about houses full of trash."

Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, with a worried gaze, "Why didn't you call me? I would have come right away."

Ezra looked at her, shaking his head, "I thought about it, but I had arranged with Nia and Dara that they would pick me up with their bikes and I texted Nia and-"

He paused to catch his breath.

"As soon as he said the word orgasm I got up and told him I didn't want to see him anymore and left."

Cassian nodded, "You did the right thing." he told him resting a hand on his ankle, "With these people you never know what can happen-"

Nesta interrupted him, "How did you get the cut?"

His dad frowned and turned to her, but Nesta was just watching Ezra as she bit her lip, growing more and more agitated.

He closed his eyes, sighing, "I fell."

"Yeah, but how?"

He remained silent, trying to find a way to tell the story from the beginning without his parents losing years of their lives before he could finish telling.

"Ezra." his father murmured, tightening his grip on his ankle.

He took a deep breath and tried to say it all at once before they could interrupt him, fixing his eyes on the seams of his pajamas, "He followed me outside and grabbed my arm, but I fell backwards. He grabbed me by my jacket and when I managed to get free again I must have fallen on a rock or something sharp because I hurt my hand." his voice was shaking at the end of the sentence and he hadn't realized how striking it had actually been for him. "Some guy came out of the fast food restaurant and distracted Daniel and I ran. I found Nia and Dara on their bikes and we rode home." then he wrinkled his brow, "I've already blocked his number and his every social account." he added under his breath. When he looked up at his parents, he felt tremendous guilt. Nesta had a hand over her mouth and her eyes slightly glazed over. He could see all kinds of emotions battling there: anger, apprehension, panic, worry. He could see how much it was costing her not to leave that house and go find Daniel on her own.

Cassian had sprung to his feet and was now pacing back and forth between the closet and the bathroom, hands crossed behind his head as he took deep breaths.

Ezra didn't know what to do. They had broached the subject of relationships many times before, there was no reason why they should have to explain to him why everything that had happened was wrong and that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't his fault. He knew.

"Are you okay?" his mom asked him.

He nodded, "I didn't want to tell you tonight because we're all tired, tomorrow morning would have been better." then he shifted his gaze to his dad, "I'm sorry, dad."

Cassian froze, letting go of a trembling breath as he shook his head. He sat down next to his son, wrapping his arms around him and holding him to his chest. Ezra melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around him in turn.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," he murmured to him. He pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. Then he shook his head again, "I'm sorry you didn't tell us about the date and I'd appreciate it if in the future you would."

"Yeah," Nesta indulged him, moving around on the mattress until she was next to them and could place a hand on his face, "we don't care who you go out with, but at least know where you're going so that if something happens we know where to come get you."

Ezra nodded.

Then Nesta opened her arms and he released herself from his father's grasp to find comfort in his mom's.

"I'm sorry, love." she whispered to him.

Ezra shrugged, saying in a muffled voice, "Don't worry, I'm fine."

And he was indeed fine.

He felt his father's hand caressing his back and they stayed there for a while longer, while Nesta and Cassian exchanged a look full of emotions and worries, but also of relief because the evening could have ended in a completely different way.

It wasn't until the next day that they would ask him if he wanted to press charges and how it would all play out should he decide to continue, only after they had talked about it a whole night between the two of them.

In the meantime, Ezra would come out of their room after saying goodnight to them for the second time and crawl into Andra's bed, where the little sister would immediately attach herself like an octopus to his neck and where they would fall asleep peacefully hugging.

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#nessian #TSOU nessian fic #TSOU #the seven of us #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar next gen #acotar fic #nessian fic #nessian angst #family angst #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of silver flames #nessian child #nessian children #nessian baby

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

some kind of loud, attention grabbing noise that lets you know ITS FIC TIME, BABYYYYY you could start here, but the context... the build up.. the hours of worldcrafting, you'd miss it all... so start here, instead, then circle back.

These last two weeks have actually been nice. She and Adam had both mutually agreed that, despite not being the kind of person either of them would intentionally seek out on their own, Beetlejuice (she still has a hard time believing that’s what BJ stands for, but okay,) is fun. Not just fun, but funny, and seemingly often in the mood to laugh, in that overblown, Vincent Price horror movie way he does, which earns him multiple shushes in the library.

Drama club has gotten better. Barbara has a private theory that what most people need is to just get used to BJ, to spend enough time with him that he stops looking like an outsider, and it’s coming true, slowly, but finally. BJ had mentioned off-handedly he played ukulele, and when the other kids had expressed interest, he’d brought it with him the next day... Though she’s not quite sure where he kept it, the entire day. She’s seen that mess of a locker he’s got. She doubts it fits in there. And it can’t have been in his backpack, either, because every time he sets it down, she can hear what sounds like glass and rocks settling. She’s even seen him, after school, pick up a rock and shove it in one of the pockets. She has to assume his bag weighs a hundred pounds, or so.

His instrument, almost predictably, was painted with black and white stripes, but he’d played the little thing like a pro. She had never taken him for someone who enjoyed the mellow, soft sounds the ukulele was known for, but clearly, she doesn’t know enough about the boy. Miss Larson, the drama instructor, had clapped, and learned that BJ could read music, too. “Maybe while we’re practicing, you can accompany us?” She’d asked, clearly trying to work a way into getting more participation out of their newest member. BJ had been flustered, but had agreed, easily.

The wildest thing had been hearing him sing. They’d moved from being in the drama room, most days, to being in the auditorium, working on lines and practicing their singing. No one’s been officially cast, yet, but it’s mostly to get used to being on stage. Miss Larson had insisted that BJ sing a few lines for them, and he’d sort of made a face, ducked backstage, and had appeared with his ukulele in hand. Barbara didn’t even know he’d put it back there.

“Uh, so, sing what?” He’d shuffled awkwardly, and Miss Larson had smiled. “Whatever you feel,” to which BJ just snorted, and rolled his eyes, but then he plucked a few notes on his ukulele, and started to sing.

“There’s a camp, there’s a camp, by the frozen lake, wa wa ooh. With every belly starving and every finger numb, but up on the hill there’s a red, red rum, somebody’s always cooking something in the lean-to.”

It wasn't a song she’d recognized, but it was clearly morbid. She shouldn’t have expected anything different. The real focal point was his voice, his strange, scratchy pitch, because despite sounding like he gargles sandpaper and nails, he’s got a strong, clear tone, one that carries well, and as he sings, he doesn’t hit a single sour note. She also noted that his enunciation is much clearer when he’s singing, oddly enough. He sang as much as he decided he needed to, and clung to his ukelele as he finished, like a lifeline. “So. Yeah.” He’d said, and then flinched when the clapping started, from all members present, but especially her and Adam. He’d stood looking around at them all, utterly baffled.

“You didn’t tell us you would sing!” Jeremiah, the student director, was the one who looked the most enthused, and BJ balked. “Didn’t think it mattered. M’just gonna be a stagehand.. Right?”

“Maybe he could play the dentist?” Miss Larson had looked at Jeremiah, and they’d begun talking amongst themselves, ignoring him, as he strummed nervously at his instrument.

“Oh, wait, check this out!”

And he sings again, another verse from that same, oddly morbid song, which she’d started to pick up is definitely about cannibals, but his voice is.. Different. The grit is gone. It’s like he’d ran his vocal cords under some hot soapy water, and washed all the grime and gravel out of them, because he sang like an angel, like a normal person, and then, suddenly, devolved into a hacking cough, doubled over.

“Sorry, can only do that so long. Hurts my throat,” he said, after a moment, all the grit back in his voice. He waited. There had been a soft laugh, and then it grew louder, coming from each of the members watching him in turn, because the idea that speaking like THAT somehow hurts, and his normal tone doesn’t, is just so outrageous and silly, and he’d stood there proudly, grinning in that way he does, because his joke had landed, and he might, for the first time since he was forced into their club, be enjoying himself.

So, yes. The last few weeks have been good. Very good.

All that club progress aside, looking back makes her a little flustered, because at this point, she’s gotten the hint that he’s not gay. What he is, is incredibly flirty, not only with Adam but with her, and she finds herself... enjoying it. He keeps his ukulele tucked into the bottom of the cart in the library, and sometimes, when he’s certain he won’t be interrupted, he grabs it and sings little songs about them, laying on top of the cart like a drunk lounge singer on a piano, as she or Adam wheel it along. The songs are made up on the spot tunes that often start dirty, and end sincere, like he can’t even help it. It’s embarrassing, and endearing, and just very… Beetlejuice.

There’s just the problem lingering overhead, the one she’s desperate to solve, of Kevin. BJ doesn’t talk about him, abruptly changes the subject when she tries, or just goes silent, and gives her a hard glare with those amber eyes, which is the worst of the three options, because silence on him is unnerving. He can do this thing where he goes deathly still, and she swears he doesn’t even breathe, just stands there, totally unmoving, like a corpse.

She thinks if she could just go to his house, and talk to his mother, she might get a better understanding of the entire situation, but despite him inviting them, he’s never followed up, and both Adam and herself are too polite to push.. Directly. But then, he doesn’t show up that day, not for library duty and not for drama club, and she makes the decision for him, that today is the day they’ll be coming over. She gets his address out of the guidance counselor, easily. “It’s so sweet you two want to go check up on him,” Mrs. Birch says, sliding his address across her desk to Barbara. “I knew the drama club would be a good fit for him! He’s already making friends!”

Adam’s mom is nice enough to drop them off, and Adam, adorable, sweet Adam, stares delighted at the house, as they walk up the front steps. “It’s a tudor!” he tells her, and she sort of nods, not really knowing exactly what that means. “I’ve never seen one painted black and white, before. Usually those accents are a natural wood color,” and she rings the bell, as he goes on. The outside of the house matches BJ’s stripes, and she wonders if that’s coincidence, or if his parents just really, really love him. The door swings open, and then a chubby blur jumps away from their line of sight, startling her from her thoughts. “Beetlejuice?” Adam calls, concerned, and it takes a moment for their friend to reappear in the doorway, with a croaked out, “Sup?”

He looks terrible. He always looks a little terrible, as mean as that is to say, too pale and with purple spots under his eyes she chalks up to exhaustion, but he looks worse, today. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d actually be sick.

“We just wanted to come by and see if you were okay,” she tells him, and BJ cocks his head so far to the side, he looks like he might fall over. “Why?” “Because.. We’re your friends,” Adam says, cautiously, which causes BJ to stare down at the checkered entryway tile.

“Oh.” He packs a lot of emotion into that little noise.

“Can we come in?” She asks, and he doesn’t look sure, rubbing at the back of his neck, but then next to him, in the doorway, appears what must be Mrs. Deetz. She’s on the tall side, slim, with blonde hair past her shoulders, and she’s wearing all black with lace accents. Even her stud earrings and the rings on her fingers are that same dark hue.

“Well, hello! BJ, invite your friends in!” She urges him, and then, to them asks, “You kids hungry? We’re just sitting down to dinner. It’s grilled cheese tower night,” and then she turns, and leaves them there, like that needs no explanation.

BJ fidgets a moment, but relents. “Come in, I guess,” he moves aside, and Adam and Barbara take a collective step into the Deetz household. The house is dark, not for lack of light, but for lack of color. The walls are paneling which Adam, delighted, says must be original, but they’ve been stained a dark shade of coffee, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. When she does, she takes in how strangely eerie the place is. It’s less like someone’s home and more like a haunted house ride.

“Oh, you guys haven't taken down the Halloween décor, yet?” Adam asks, noting a cracked vase full of black roses on a side table as they follow BJ further in, and BJ snorts. “That crap? It's up in th’ attack. This is what passes for normal around here.” Barbara stops to stare at a picture of a distorted figure cannibalizing a smaller one. “Saturn Devouring His Son,” BJ says, briefly putting on a voice like a tour guide, high pitched and peppy, and both she and Adam wince. “What’s with you and cannibalism?” she asks, which only earns her that haunted laugh in response.

The kitchen, at least, looks a little more normal and bright, but Barbara learns quickly that’s not to be trusted, because sitting on the counter is what looks to be a lasagna made from sandwiches and sauce. “You guys are here on a night Emily had to cook. Bad luck,” BJ tells them, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s talking about his mother. Does he use her first name?

Emily, or, Mrs. Deetz, her mind corrects politely, busies herself with dishing them both a plate. “So, you kids must be.. Adam and Barbara,” she says, knowingly, and BJ, perhaps embarrassed, shuffles his bare feet at nothing. He’s been talking to his mom about them… aww. She notices then that he’s in his pajamas, which are, like everything else he wears, eccentric. He looks cute. She realizes she’s staring, and BJ catches her eye, and wiggles his eyebrows at her. Oh, god.

“We’re sorry for dropping by unannounced, Mrs. Deetz,” Adam says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Mrs. Deetz waives that off. “It’s totally fine. BJ’s never taken a sick day, before, I bet you probably thought he was faking. You kids can call me Emily. And that, of course, is Lydia.” She gestures to the nine year old scrutinizing them from the kitchen table.

“Hello again,” Barbara says, and Lydia gives her a smile, at least, but it's wary, it’s very, “I’ve got my eyes on you.” It’s strange to see from a little kid.

They all sit down to eat, all five of them, at the kitchen table, she and Adam settled across from BJ and Lydia. Adam squints, trying to read what’s on the other boy’s shirt. “What does that say?” he asks, and BJ glances down, and pulls the top taught, to make it easier to read. “Least exciting hole I’ve ever been in,” both boys say, at the same time. “Grand Canyon National Park.” Barbara and Adam both blush at that, and Mrs.. Emily, Emily just laughs. Lydia looks annoyed. “No one will explain to me what that means,” she tells Barbara, leaning closer to her, and almost looking hopeful. Barbara avoids that look. “It’s a dirty joke,” is all she says, and Lydia, clearly not satisfied, just takes a bite of her grilled cheese abomination. “Chuck hates this shirt,” BJ tells them. “Chuck?” “Chuck, Chuckster, Chuckles, Charles.. My dad,” he grates out. Barbara can’t imagine calling her father by his first name. She’d be in a world of trouble for being “disrespectful,” if she tried. “Is Mr. Deetz home?” Adam asks, and Lydia is the one to reply, mouth still a little too full.

“He’s at the office. He’s always working so fucking late,” Lydia says, and then lets it settle in the air, like she’s waiting for something. Barbara balks, and it feels like her eyes are bulging out of her head, because she’s never heard that kind of language from a nine year old. She glances at Emily nervously, waiting for her to blow up, to be angry, but Emily just seems to be in deep thought.

“I dunno about that one, Lyds,” Mrs. Deetz finally says, and Lydia puffs up her chest and tries again. “He’s always working so god damn late?” She looks to her mother, and Emily, finger on her chin, nods. “Yeah, alright. I hereby decree that Lydia Deetz, at the age of nine and a half, is allowed to say god damn.” Lydia pumps her fist and then takes another huge mouthful of grilled cheese casserole. “Bout fuckin’ time,” BJ grunts. Barbara thinks the Deetz family might all be whack jobs. there's more, a lot more, but tumblr can't handle it all, so read this chapter in full over on Ao3!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #goldenrat #beetlelands #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lydia deetz #emily deetz

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