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bosspigeon · 3 years

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Carabosse et la Fee des Lilas

Prompt: 💋Drag

Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~

Words: 5,346

Summary: Tina spends some quality time with Arlo and Unit Bravo as they prepare for Wayhaven's first real Pride festival, Tina torments her best friend and his maybe-boyfriend (as is her god-given right), and Arlo has a big think about his favorite role and what that role allowed him to explore~

CW for references to transmisogyny and implications of past trans/homophobia

Sometimes, Tina wonders if Arlo missed his true calling. His hands are surgeon-steady as he pencils delicate patterns onto Felix’s cheeks, outlining with white eyeliner in preparation to fill them in with bold colors and glitter. Tina almost can’t wait for her turn, even though Felix looks like he’s in real, physical pain with the effort of holding as still as possible. She’s no stranger to that struggle herself.

Neither is she a stranger to Arlo’s forceful, if toothless, threats, overcome as she is by fondness when he growls that he's going to draw a mustache on Felix’s face with permanent marker if he doesn’t stop bloody bouncing.

It’s pretty fun to watch from the outside. Sure, when you first sit down when he’s like this—all sharp and snappish and “stop moving or I’ll chuck you out the window”—it’s hard to keep still, but Arlo’s got this sort of quiet intensity to him when he’s focusing on something that’s oddly meditative. He’s just a soothing presence, really. Like a capybara or something. He’s friend-shaped.

Whatever weird magic it is, it’s definitely catching, because Felix looks less like he’s about to burst, like he did when Arlo was putting down the foundation, and more like he’s enjoying the attention. Tina’s not sure how long it’s going to last, seeing as Felix has given her a run for her money in the “manic energy” department, and he’s nowhere near as caffeinated as she is at any given time, but for the time being, he’s (mostly) still and quiet.

There’s music playing, quiet enough that the broody one (she knows his name, but it seems to bug him when she calls him "the broody one," which is funny, so—) only grumbled about it for a few minutes when Arlo turned it on, and even seems to enjoy sitting close enough to Arlo’s stupidly fancy stereo system to, she guesses, feel the rumble of the bass through the floor. Vampires are weird.

Anyway, it’s Arlo’s usual sad goth boy nonsense, but as quiet as it is, and with its intense instrumentals and rumbling vocals, it’s pleasant background noise more than anything.

Nate (the handsome and charming one, because of course all Arlo’s vampire friends are handsome, so she has to differentiate between them somehow) is rifling through Arlo’s bookshelf like it’s his job, and visibly struggling to pick something to read, because Arlo’s sitting room bookshelf (the one she found at a yard sale three hours away and lashed to the top of her sedan with every single bungee cord she could find at the local hardware store because it was coffin-shaped, for god's sake) is where he keeps all his weirdo occult stuff to, quote, “make people who pop by unannounced leave faster.”

And then there’s the big, handsome, stupidly fit blonde Arlo still won’t call his boyfriend, even though they’re so obvious it’s sickening, and she means that with all the love in her heart. He’s sitting in the armchair by the bookshelf, positioned so he can look like he’s reading one of Arlo’s old music magazines and totally isn’t taking advantage of the perfect line of sight of Arlo perched on the end of his coffee table so he’s not too tall to work on Felix, sitting in a chair from the kitchen. Tina sure hopes he doesn’t think he’s subtle, being a super special vampire secret agent and all.

He seems to notice her eyeing him, at least, and keeps his attention pinned firmly on the magazine, though he is definitely not reading a single word. Nate keeps browsing, the Broody One keeps brooding, Arlo keeps working, and Felix starts to hum. Arlo gives him a sharp look, but it doesn’t seem to be moving his face in any major way, so he just rolls his eyes and keeps tracing pretty patterns onto that unfairly smooth, dark skin. Do vampires do skin care? They probably don’t even need to, and that’s probably one of the reasons people like to villainize them. It always comes down to jealousy, doesn’t it?

She sighs, loudly enough that every eye in the room turns to her, and while she did not expect the sudden attention, she knows she can at least use it to entertain herself. She homes in on Adam, and smiles when she finally looks at the magazine he’s still valiantly pretending to read. There’s a familiar man on the cover, and while she can’t be bothered to remember his name, she grins. “Oh, hey! Arlo, he’s reading the one with the guy who looks like you!”

Arlo doesn’t even look up, but he huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes again. He’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps that up.

The comment does exactly what she wants it to, which is draw the attention of all the other vampires. Arlo even begrudgingly pulls the pencil away from Felix’s cheek so he can take a look, and he immediately bursts out laughing.

“Arlo!” he exclaims, slapping at Arlo’s knee. “You didn’t tell us you had a twin!”

Nate chuckles (warm and rich and handsome, if a sound can be called handsome) and turns from the shelf to study the magazine curiously himself. Even the Broody One peers over to see, a little smirk curling his permanently-scowling mouth.

“Considering he was born in the sixties, I definitely don’t,” Arlo drawls. “Tina’s been making that joke since we were kids. She’s just happy she’s got an audience who hasn’t heard it twelve times a week since she first saw my old Type O Negative poster.”

“Some jokes just get better with time,” Tina says archly. “Like a fine wine.”

“And some jokes age like milk,” Arlo fires back.

Adam tilts the magazine so he can look for himself, and his dour expression clouds over even more, brows furrowing and mouth twisting. He peers up at Arlo, studying him, then down again.

Got you. “Yeah, you’re right,” Tina says, nodding sagely at him. “Arlo’s much prettier.”

It has exactly the reaction she was hoping for. Arlo drops his eyeliner pencil and makes a strangled noise, glowering at her with his cute freckly cheeks going all red, and Adam, who is a good bit paler than Arlo, goes pink from the crewneck of his just-this-side-of-too-tight tee shirt to his hairline. Tina wants to punch the air as the other vampires snicker at them. Well, except for Nate. Nate’s not a snickerer. He chortles. It’s adorable.

“Speaking of pretty!” Felix crows once they’ve all had a laugh at their fearless leader’s expense. He points to his own face with both hands, dancing in his chair, and Arlo sighs and rolls his eyes again, bending to pick up the dropped pencil. Luckily, the tip isn’t broken, so he can get right back to work, once he’s given the young vampire a moment to get his wiggles out. He settles, sitting on his hands and pursing his lips when Arlo gives him a dry look. He hovers back in with the pencil, and then Felix blurts out, “How’d you get so good at this anyway? Well, I assume you’re good at it. I haven’t seen it yet.”

Arlo doesn’t say anything. He just looks at him, pencil poised, until Felix pinches his mouth shut with a quick little apology. Once Arlo’s satisfied his canvas is actually going to hold still and keep quiet, he gets back to it. “My school was pretty small, especially compared to the bigger-name performing arts schools out there,” he says after a moment of quiet focus, tracing the outline of a heart around one of Felix’s eyes. “Our department didn’t really have a huge budget, and workspace was at a premium too. We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for performances before someone else had to use the theatre, so we all did our own makeup at once, for the most part. Sometimes we’d help each other out, because we all had our strengths and weaknesses.”

He pulls back the pencil, squinting critically at the heart like it’s not completely perfect. “Demi was the best at laying the groundwork, and at matching colors to our costumes and complexions. Viv was the best at coming up with concepts and making sure we looked like a matching set. Wendi could do insane prosthetics, and was the best at bullying our department head into giving us the money for them. I had the steadiest hands, so I always did the eyes and the details.”

“Was Wendi the one who did your Dracula look?” Tina gasps. “That one was so cool!”

“Dracula?” Felix blurts. Tina doesn’t miss how the others perk up with interest too.

Arlo glares at him, and he shrinks back with a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, we did Dracula, uh… second year, I think? That was when Tilly transferred in and started doing our choreography. She’s the one who got Professor Dacey to let us do less classical stuff and start branching out a bit.” He glances briefly at Tina, staunchly ignoring the way Felix pouts at him for dividing his attention. “And, yeah, Wendi did the prosthetics for that one.”

“She’s got to be magic,” Tina asserts. “She managed to make your sweet, mopey face look so scary.”

Felix and Mason both snicker at that, and Arlo’s mouth goes all lemon-sour pinchy, like it always does when she calls him a sad puppy man, or any variation thereof.

“Take a lap,” Arlo says to Felix. “Don’t touch your face.” He jerks his head at Tina when Felix bolts to his feet and starts zooming around the flat to get out some of his energy. “Your turn, if you’re done being a comedian.”

“I’m never done,” she says with a sunny smile, but she bounces over to take Felix’s place in the chair and closes her eyes serenely so he can start on her makeup.

“And, God, do I know it,” he grumbles under his breath, knowing full well she can hear him, and so can everyone else in the room, too.

“Do you have pictures?” Felix hollers. He’s dipped into Arlo’s studio, and he’s making no secret of rifling through the desk in there, drawers slamming and paper rustling.

Arlo tips his head back so when he sighs, loud and dramatically long-suffering, he’s not blowing his breath right in Tina’s face. She appreciates the gesture. “Bottom right drawer,” he calls back, resignation thick in his voice. Given how long he’s been putting up with Tina—and Felix might just be Tina’s second platonic soulmate (Arlo, of course, being the first)—he already knows that keeping quiet is just prolonging the inevitable. Tina opens her eyes briefly to see Felix come sailing out of the studio with a thick leather-bound album held triumphantly over his head.

“Oh, I haven’t seen that in years!” she coos happily.

Arlo bops her on the forehead pointedly with a sponge covered in foundation, and she closes her eyes obediently.

She hears Arlo’s antique sofa creak as Felix plops down onto it, rifling through the plastic pages. “Aw,” he whines, “no baby pictures?”

“I can’t imagine him ever being a baby,” Mason snorts, and he sounds closer than he was before. Tina knows better than to open her eyes while Arlo’s in the zone, though. He’ll bop her with something less soft than a sponge next time. “I figured he’s just always been a giant.”

Felix laughs, high and chiming. “No wonder Agent Priestley’s always so sour, then,” he says. Tina giggles, and it becomes an inelegant snort when Arlo bops her again on the nose.

“Ask Rebecca if you want to see my baby pictures,” Arlo mutters blandly, and Tina can feel the weight of his attention. “I doubt she has many after age two, and the ones before I’ve barely seen.”

Tina’s not a super-special supernatural secret agent, but she tries with all her might to will someone to change the subject before things get weird. Now’s as good a time as any to learn telepathy.

Felix, heart of her heart, interrupts what’s shaping up to be a real prize winner of an awkward silence with a loud gasp. “Woah!” he exclaims, and pages crinkle as he presumably holds up the book for Arlo to see. “Who’s this? Did you do her makeup too?”

Arlo’s hair rustles as he turns his head away from her, and then the hand on her cheek freezes. Tension radiates through every inch of his body, practically leaching into hers. She cautiously opens one eye, and sees Arlo sitting up impeccably straight, stiff as a board and staring at Felix like a deer in the headlights. He swallows so hard she can see his throat move. “Um,” he says, stilted and strange. “Yeah. I did.”

Tina opens both eyes and squints at the photo album. Oh.

Felix looks at the sudden strain in the way Arlo is sitting, the tightness of his posture, and looks quizzically down at the picture again.

Tina remembers that performance. She remembers Arlo dancing (ha) around the subject when she asked him teasingly if he was going to be playing the prince, who was the lead, was he excited to kiss a pretty girl?

She can’t remember the character’s name, not so many years after the fact, especially since they were all weird classical nonsense, either Latin or French or some mishmash of the two. But she remembers the costume. She remembers waiting with bated breath to see Arlo onstage, to stand and scream and cheer obnoxiously loud in support of her best friend. She shot to her feet the second she saw his obvious silhouette rise from a feather-bedecked black chariot, head and shoulders taller than anyone else onstage. The music swelled, lightning flashed, and then when the spotlight hit him, she was so stunned she plopped right back into her seat with her jaw on the floor.

Arlo’s always been one of those guys that straddled the line between pretty and handsome. Long, lustrous hair and eyelashes she would kill for, cheekbones that could kill, a defined jaw, a proud nose, and intense eyes she could only call sultry—if she hadn’t known him since they were both weird, gawky brats, she’d probably be half in love with him before figuring out she wasn’t his cup of tea. But seeing him onstage was always an adventure. He threw himself into whatever character he played, put his everything into them, from the costume to the makeup to the performance. He just became the character, and in a way that was so very Arlo, all that intensity and focus channeled into an act that completely stole the show, in Tina’s humble and completely unbiased opinion.

Carabosse! That was her name!

Carabosse was no different.

Arlo’s makeup was flawless, ghost-white foundation giving him intense Morticia Addams vibes, contouring that made his cheekbones look absolutely unreal, bold black (or maybe really dark purple?) lipstick and shiny, smoky eyeshadow that made him look ethereal and wicked, with a daggerpoint cat-eye that she spent an hour begging him to teach her after the show. When he turned his head in a sharp, birdlike motion to look down his nose at the dancers playing the King and Queen, she gasped at the way his hair rippled down his back, shiny-black and woven with actual feathers that trailed back from the ornate metal circlet resting on his brow like a bird’s crest. The costume was breathtaking, too, a tightly corseted bodice and a high collar, a dramatically billowing skirt and trailing, feathered sleeves that flared like wings whenever he moved.

And the way he moved! Arlo’s dancing changed with every role, whatever he felt would suit the character. One of her favorites was always his Hans-Peter (she had a soft spot for that one, and had ever since she was little—one of the first Christmas gifts her stepmom had ever given her was little storybook version of The Nutcracker that came with a CD) because his dancing was so stiff and stridently mechanical, he looked like a real toy soldier come to life. But his villains moved with a slinking, predatory prowl she’d only ever seen in monster movies, and never in something like a ballet. His Carabosse was as beautiful as she was terrifying, and it was incredible to watch. She wanted to fling herself at him after the show and babble at him endlessly like she always did, but she spent a solid minute staring at him slack-jawed, until he shifted awkwardly and looked down, and the confident intimidation of the Wicked Fairy sloughed away to reveal Arlo underneath.

He almost melted into the floor with relief when she finally startled to babble.

She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, and he takes a slow, deep breath, offering Felix a strained smile. “Take a closer look, mate,” he says quietly.

Felix does. He looks up and squints at Arlo, and then back down at the photo. Tina has to bite her lip so she doesn’t laugh when he looks over at Adam, still holding the magazine with that metal singer that kind of looks like Arlo on it, and then back at Arlo. His mouth drops open into a little o, and he shoots to his feet and shouts, “No way!”

Mason was allowed his name back briefly, but he goes right back to Broody One when he grimaces at Felix and slinks pettishly back to his corner.

Arlo’s shoulders are practically around his ears, but he tries to keep smiling. “Yeah. Sleeping Beauty. Fourth year. I was the Wicked Fairy.”

“He was amazing,” Tina declares, shoulders back and chin tipped up challengingly. “The costume was insane, but the way he played her was absolutely, ridiculously badass.”

“You look awesome!” Felix blurts, still gawking down at the photo. He flips to the next page, and squeaks happily when he finds more pictures, from different angles, showing off the costume, the way Arlo loomed over the other dancers, the way he commanded the stage. Tina should really find out who took the pictures and send them her thanks, because they really put in the work. “Your makeup, your dress, your hair! How’d you even do that?”

Arlo laughs, and it sounds so utterly relieved, Tina’s heart breaks a little. Arlo’s always been sensitive, and for someone who dresses and holds himself the way he does, he worries more than he lets on what people think of him. Especially people he cares about. She squeezes his shoulder again, and he bites his lip when he glances back at her and smiles hesitantly.

“A lot of wire, and enough hairspray to choke a bloody cow,” he says, twisting around and slinging his long legs over the coffee table so he can face the sofa. “I think we bought every bag of black feathers the craft store had, and then spent an entire weekend painting them with this stupidly expensive embossing powder. We had to get, like, ten pots of the stuff, because the craft store only had pots the size of a quarter.”

“I admire your dedication,” Nate says pleasantly, strolling over to peer over Arlo’s shoulder. They tighten just a bit before relaxing slowly. “That costuming is superb. I’ve seen professional productions that weren’t half so detailed.”

“That would be Viv’s work,” Arlo laughs, looking down at the pictures fondly. “She took whatever cheap garbage the department had for us, raided the nearest clearance fabric rack, and worked her magic. The employees at that little craft store loved and hated us in equal measure.”

Arlo is still tense, but he’s loosening up little by little, and with him Tina does too. The easy camaraderie is soothing, and she knows how much Arlo cares about his vampire friends, so it’s got to be a huge weight off his shoulders to be able to let his guard down around them. He deserves that. He deserves to be able to be himself.

Adam standing up draws Arlo’s attention like nothing else could, and he freezes like a startled rabbit again looking up at the burly blonde vampire as he approaches the sofa. He looks a split second from bolting. Tina sits up straighter and gives Adam her most daring look, squaring her shoulders to make it perfectly clear she's ready to fight the second he opens his mouth. She’ll definitely lose, sure, but she’ll make as much trouble as she can before she goes down.

He reaches out, his hand hesitating before it touches the album’s glossy page, and he looks up at Arlo with a questioning tilt to his brows. Arlo looks like he’s barely breathing, but he nods, and Adam slips one of the pictures from its sleeve. He straightens his spine, shoulders back, holding the photo and studying it carefully. His face is impossible to read, about as expressive as a bloody brick wall. Tina’s vibrating with nervous energy. She’ll fight a vampire, though. She will.

When Adam does finally speak, his voice comes out so softly Tina almost doesn’t hear it over the adrenaline rushing through her. “You look… striking.”

Striking. Oh my god.

She wants to laugh. They’re ridiculous.

“Thanks,” Arlo chokes out, his cheeks and ears going red this time.

Oh my god. Tina covers her mouth with both hands. Arlo glowers at her. It’s a lot less threatening when he’s blushing like that. “I didn’t say anything,” she mumbles against her palms.

“Your face,” he hisses, and she yelps.

“Oh! Shit!” She pulls her hands away, and he grabs her by the chin to check the damage with a click of his tongue.

Tina thought things would get better once Arlo actually kissed the man (and maybe got a leg over, but that’s only her business when she can finally get Arlo to actually talk about if the big, beefy Adonis is as missionary-with-the-lights-off as he looks) but at least they’re not just staring longingly at each other from across the room and then getting all sad about it anymore . Thankfully, Felix seems to be an old hand at clearing up the weird tension between the two of them, chiming in a delighted, “I’ve never seen you look so scary!” as he rifles through all the pictures from the Sleeping Beauty show. “I mean, you’re pretty scary when you go all furry, but also, you sort of just look like a big lanky puppy, because it’s just you, you know? This is someone else! Who is she! She's so cool!”

Arlo sighs and turns around to fix whatever Tina’s ruined with her foundation, and throws himself back into dolling her up. Thankfully, the actual festival’s not for a while yet. She complained about the unnecessarily early start when Arlo suggested the time, but now she’s glad he’s such a persnickety prick about scheduling. “I had a lot of fun with it,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “The original script notes said to get, y’know, sort of silly with it, but I wasn’t a big fan of that angle for a character like her. Yeah, I wanted to be campy, but not in the way…” He purses his lips. “Okay, well, Nate probably knows this, but a lot of classical ballets that have a female villains do this thing with them that I hate.” He frowns deeply, patting at Tina’s chin with gentle ferocity. “ An evil female character is supposed to be sort of… sort of a cautionary tale, I guess? Like your typical bitter spinster crone, the old hag, or the wicked stepsisters, things like that. So they’ll specifically cast a male dancer and put them in bright, gaudy facepaint and garish costumes that are supposed to be cartoonish and ugly, that you're supposed to find funny, to show you that this character is bad because she’s indelicate and mannish, and that’s why she’s evil.”

His mouth twists around the words, and he looks up, back at the vampires, leaving Tina a moment to really appreciate that Arlo’s comfortable enough with them to do what he’s only ever really done with her—which is ramble about something he’s passionate about. It’s always fun to watch. He turns back to her, and she just wishes his hands weren’t occupied, because he’s a big hand-talker otherwise. “I got the role because the professor thought it would be funny to stick me in a role like that, being so tall and, y’know,” he gestures vaguely to his faded old band tee and dark jeans, the thick leather cuff around his wrist. Tina doesn’t see what he really means, seeing as he looks cozy and content right now, but she gets what he’s going for. “He was expecting me to be awkward about it. The big, tough guy doing drag as the creepy crone caricature.” He huffs. “I talked with Demi about it, and we decided to say fuck that.” He sits up straighter, tilts up his chin, and looks down his nose at Tina.

She peers up at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly wonders if this is how Demi felt, playing Aurora when Carabosse looked down her nose at her like an insect under her heel.

“I thought Carabosse deserved better,” Arlo says fiercely. “If I was going to be a villain, I was going to be a damned good villain. I was going to tower over all the delicate, dainty little princesses and fairies, and I was going to be fierce. Professor Dacey wanted Aurora, and Candide, and Florine to be the epitome of sweet, delicate femininity, the ideal damsel in any classical show. Carabosse is supposed to be the complete opposite. You’re supposed to root against her, not want to be her. She’s a threat to the idea of womanhood, of the ideal feminine. She’s bold and selfish and she takes what she wants. I leaned into that. I even danced en pointe for parts of it, even though Carabosse isn't supposed to, and between the rehearsals and the actual performance, I thought my feet were gonna fall off, but it was worth it.”

Arlo smiles, and Tina is thrilled by the wickedness of it. She thinks she even sees just a hint of fang. Arlo’s been so careful about showing his teeth, ever since he told her what happened to him, why he disappeared for so long, so it's somehow special for him to feel like he can show her even a hint of what he’s become.

“Professor Dacey was pissed, afterwards, of course,” Arlo laughs, but there’s an edge to it. He seems to shrink. From Arlo to Carabosse to Arlo again. He looks down at his hands as they work on Tina more than at her face. “He didn’t, y’know, say anything he could have gotten fired over, but he did rail about being left out of planning and the budget and all that rot. Got even madder when Demi pointed out we’d spent our own money on the costumes. I think if he was tall enough to look down on me, he would have.” He snorts, a bitter curl to his mouth. Tina thinks of it painted bold, dark purple, thinks of how it would look with those teeth behind it. She wonders if he’d let her do his makeup for the festival. She’s not nearly as good at details as he is, but she’s no slouch either.

“You should have let me put raw fish in his hubcaps,” Tina mutters, just to make Arlo laugh. It works, and she beams at him.

“Would have been a waste of fish,” he mumbles, sucking his teeth. He finally picks up a bright eyeshadow palette and starts waffling over colors. He’s quiet while he deliberates, but after a while, he sighs. “I liked being Carabosse,” he says, like it’s a secret. Like he’s trying very hard not to be ashamed.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Adam says, almost dreamily. Tina could scream. “I— We could have, I mean. All of us. In solidarity.”

“Smooth,” Felix whispers.

“I’m sure it was a phenomenal performance,” Nate adds helpfully. He’s taken the album from Felix to flip through to some of Arlo’s other shows. “The passion you have for your characters shines through in just photos. It’s quite impressive.”

“You should have gone pro,” Tina mutters. “You’d be a household name by now.”

Arlo snorts and bops her with the brush. How many bops is that now? She’s certainly on a roll today. “And who’d keep you in line back here?” he teases.

Tina squints up at him and sticks out her tongue. “Like you’ve ever even tried to keep me in line, you big softie. You love the chaos, just admit it.”

“I’ll admit you to the hospital when you do something stupid and get yourself hurt again, how about that?”

They bicker like children back and forth while Arlo finishes her makeup, a wash of pink, purple, and blue eyeshadow and matching lipstick, overlaid with a lustrous sparkle to her cheekbones and a cute little black heart-shaped beauty mark under one eye. Felix gets a bi flag heart to match her eyeshadow around one eye, and then the rest is a sort of confetti splash of sparkly stars and hearts in every color. Even Nate goes for the bi eyeshadow (Bi-shadow? She should have been saying that this whole time!), making him, Tina, and Felix a matching set, and Mason consents to a very simple pan flag on his cheek. Tina suspects Adam only allows the eyeshadow treatment so he can have Arlo cup his face all tenderly, but she keeps the thought (mostly) to herself. He looks good in pastels, she thinks when she sees the finished blue, pink, and white.

Arlo draws a little heart under his eye too. The heart in Tina's chest almost explodes with warmth.

And then Arlo disappears into the bathroom, leaving the rest of them to entertain themselves while he gets ready on his own. They go through the album some more, and Tina tells them all about her favorite shows, because she went to every single one she could manage, and got Arlo’s school friends to send her videos of the ones she couldn’t. Tina Poname is Arlo Priestley’s number one fan, and that will never change. Not even now that she's got some competition.

When Arlo comes out of the bathroom, they all look up in sync, and he stands there, shifting anxiously from foot to foot under the attention, and lifts his hands in a stilted shrug. “So?” he asks, smiling nervously. He’s changed clothes, too. Tight pants, big boots, a mesh-sleeved black shirt underneath his patch-and-pin-covered denim vest. His wrists jingle with chunky bracelets, and his hair is braided neatly over one shoulder. But his makeup is what really steals the show. That insanely sharp cat-eye, of course, but one eye is done up in blue, pink, and white, and the other in yellow, white, purple, and black. He smiles timidly. “I, uh, I couldn’t really decide on just one,” he says, sticking his gloved hands into the pockets of his vest. “I’m, um, I’m not sure which one’s really right for me yet, I guess?” He shrugs again, and Tina watches delightedly as Adam stands up slowly, his eyes on Arlo with such an awed intensity she wonders if he even remembers there’s other people in the room. Arlo keeps babbling as he approaches, the words tumbling nervously from his black-painted lips. “I sort of like matching with you, Adam, and I know they’re both fine, but I—”

Adam grabs him by the lapels of his jacket, yanks him down to his level, and silences him with a kiss. Tina throws her arms up in the air with an impulsive shriek of “WOO!” that Felix echoes even louder. They high-five over Mason’s head, and he looks like he wants to throw them both out the window. Nate sits by with a pleasant little smile, which only fades when he takes note of the clock.

Adam and Arlo are still kissing, Arlo’s hands cupped around the vampire’s cheeks and Adam clinging to his vest like he'll drown if he lets go. Tina thinks she might see a hint of tongue when Nate loudly clears his throat.

They break apart with an indecent smacking noise, and Tina yelps out a sharp laugh when she sees Arlo’s black lipstick smeared all around Adam’s mouth.

Nate crosses his arms and smiles dryly at them. “Why don’t you two go fix your faces,” he suggests. “The rest of us will make sure the car is packed for the festival.”

“Um, yes. You— We—” Arlo fumbles for a bit, touching his smeared lips, his eyes just a bit dazed. He and Adam look at each other, and then flee for the bathroom together.

Tina’s never been more excited for a festival in her life.

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhavensummer #pride in wayhaven #tina poname #adam du mortain #a du mortain #felix hauville #f hauville #specialist agent mason #specialist agent m #nate sewell #n sewell #oc: arlo priestley #pidge writes #HELLO I AM FINISHING THIS AT 3:30 AM #I HAVE MY FIRST DAY OF MY NEW JOB TOMORROW #WISH ME LUCK #this turned out WAY longer than i meant it to but god was it fun #i hope you guys like it as much as i liked writing it #arlo playin w gender expression via ballet is my everything #the costume designs for carabosse can be SO GOOD #but some of them are SO BAD #ballet is like that #its very uuuuh traditional wrt its aesthetics and gender roles #and arlo and his friends were all like 'but what if not'#anyway title is v last minute bc *shrug*#tina gets to be the lilac fairy #i did so much reserach into this ballet y'all #the only thing i didnt do was watch the whole thing #tho i DID find it on yt so i could later....

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zatyrlucy · 4 years

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Hi guys I have good and bad news. The bad one is that Dave’s Q&A on Twitch wasn’t recorded and I didn’t watch it so there won’t be a list about it :( Good news is that Viv gave an interview few days ago. Its more about the making than the content of the shows but I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy.

1. It took 4-5 months to do the pilot of Helluva Boss

2. The latinoamerican team behind Helluva was selected because they already had experience working together, making good quality content and working fast.

3. The team of animators are part-time so they come and go as will in the projects.

4. It is planned to do 7 new episodes of Helluva Boss.

5. Each Helluva episode will be a different adventure in different scenarios because the imps can travel around the world

6. For Helluva there is (approximately) 10 background artists, 5 character designers and 15 clean up artists. (min 12:23)

7. Viv and other artist does main composition.

8. Viv calculates around 40-50 people in total that help in the making of Helluva Boss (min 13:45)

9. The team was bigger for Hazbin Hotel

10. The budget for Hazbin was: Patreon (new and old accounts), her freelance jobs, her personal savings (since high school, including graduation gifts) and sales. (min 16:00)

11. The money of the sales and patreon goes to different projects, not only Hazbin

12. Viv asked for help and suggestions to different studios and freelance artists to know how they managed to create big projects with crowdfunding

13. Every single penny of the sales goes to the projects

14. The zoophobia short is expected to be finished in summer

15. Hazbin’s episodes are planned to be 22 min long, so it’s needed a lot of budging and help because even if Viv and her team try to make the first season as fast as they can it would take a year per episode. So that’s why Viv is looking for a better way to produce the show.

16. Helluva has a shorter story and narrative than Hazbin plus is easier to produce and release, that’s why it was decided to be the show to be continued on youtube.

17. Viv knows the demons of her series don’t have this cliché look of red body with tail and big horns. That’s because, according to her, demons are supposed to look different from each other and because her characters are based in different religions and myths, not the typical image that everyone has of hell.

18. Viv likes her characters to be animals because they can be appealing, a good story teller device and easy to be included in any level of drama, like Zootopia or BoJack Horseman.

19. Different shows, artists, entertainment companies and movies inspired Viv while growing

up, like for example in the design of her characters (Tim burton, Invader Zim), appealing (Disney) and cartoon characters doing adult stuff (Who framed roger rabbit).

20. Ed Bosco, the voice actor of Alastor, also did the voice of Lucifer in the “Son of 666” short.

21. Viv won The Dusty Award and was gave to her by Ralph Bakshi

22. Viv worked as an artist for a studio owned by Dreamworks in a short called “Too loud”

23. Zoophobia is Viv’s webcomic when she was in college. She likes to call it her “childhood comic” because she did it while she was growing up as a story teller and artist. That’s the same reason why she says is messy.

24. If she ever has the chance to continue the comic she would reboot it instead.

25. Zoohpobia was the start of everything. Thanks to that comic Viv learned to tell stories better and it was the origin of other series too, like Hazbin.

26. When Viv got very busy in the school of animation in New York doing her thesis project she lost passion for the comic.

27. If Viv would do a reboot she wouldn’t change the characters and their personalities much, only the story because she is now a better story teller than she was in college.

#Hazbin Hotel #Helluva Boss #Link to the interview in the source

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sisterstories02 · 4 years

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Hey guys, so we learned recently that Vivziepop isn't a fan of mass produced unofficial Hazbin merch. So after some thinking we decided to show more love to her too this month. We're going to be taking our hazbin designs off our redbubble store at the end of February. Of course we will still be donating money to her patreon every month that came from those sales as we have been and continue to after with our own money. But we hope to save money in the future somehow to hopefully someday sell our hazbin merch and posters and things only at conventions. Along with our own art. But prep and paying to go to the cons will be expensive so who knows if this will really happen in the future. Thank you so much to everyone who was able to get the things we sold relating to hazbin the time they've been up. Please know your money from those sales goes to supporting Viv and her amazing team. Hopefully once the pictures for our mlp project and other things we've been working on will slow down later and we can start opening commissions for art more in the future. If you'd like to support us and help to our convention dream, we have a ko-fi account where you donate the amount of buying a cup of coffee to us or become a patron for us and get rewards on our patreon page!

#redbubble store #redbubble #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #merchandise #sales

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roommatesandwiches · 4 years

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Movie Night

For context: This WIP is set in The Consequences Of A Magic Sandwich, a series (with currently only one fic) based off that 'demon sandwiches' thread; Reader is a human that pals around with demons and serves them sandwiches when they come visit. It's supposed to be Vox-centric, but I somehow ended up writing about other demons more. (this one is set a bit after Reader's met Vox for the first time)

I wanted to write a one-shot of Reader hanging out with the VVV but realized I had zero idea how to write proper dialogue, especially with characters I'm not all that familiar with. I chickened, basically, because we have little to no information what all of their personalities are, but this came out decent enough so I thought I'd share.

Viv mentioned that all of the stuff in Hell are 'off-brand', and the following is kinda how I interpret the meaning of that as well as Velvet and Valentino's personalities while we still know little about them.

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The ice cubes clink as they touch the bottom of the glasses. Following after them is your fresh, homemade lemonade that you pour carefully from the jug. You then pop the straws into the glasses before carrying the tray over to the table where your demonic guests are sitting. Valentino is casually eating a sandwich, his eyes glued to his hot-pink phone, while Velvet is wolfing down your cookies one after the other like a homeless person who hadn't eaten in weeks. You place the tray down and the demoness immediately snatches a glass at the speed of light and knocks it back like a shot of vodka, ignoring the straw entirely. Her haste is rewarded with the ice spilling out and onto her face, some bouncing down her chest to her lap. "Slow down," you tell her as you hand her a napkin. "It's not going anywhere." "I know, but your food is just so good!" she draws out the words, and your worry that she'd get brain freeze disappears as she continues to be just as chipper as ever. Do demons not get brain freeze? Maybe she's just too hyped up to notice. Do demons get adrenaline rushes? You consider asking, but Velvet's stuffing her face with cookies again and Valentino is distracted. "Thank you," you say and you take a sip of your own glass of lemonade through the straw. You turn to the taller demon across from you, effectively catching his attention with your gaze. "You're not texting one of your workers, are you?" The pimp is quiet for a moment. "...'Course not." he says, but he puts his phone down. You sigh disappointedly, earning an annoyed look from him that you brush off easily.

"No working when you're here, remember?" you say. "This is a place for demons to relax. If you wanted to work over sandwiches you can do that in Hell." He frowns at your mothering, crossing his lower pair of arms poutily. "Fine, fine." He finishes his sandwich and finally takes his glass and brings the straw to his lips. He takes a sip and his eyes widen. "Dang, baby! This is f*cking delicious!" It tastes pretty average to you. "Don't you have lemons in Hell?" "Kinda?" Velvet made a face. "They taste gross. Everything tastes gross." "We have lemons, they're just... Off-brand," You raise an eyebrow. Off-brand lemons? "Just like everything else down there. We've got all the food and all the products you have up here but they're all sh*tty as f*ck." So that's why they like your food so much. It's not really great, it's just leaps and bounds better than the food in Hell. Velvet sighs and leans into her palm. You wonder if the brain freeze finally caught up to her. "Yeah... Even the Oreos are terrible." She suddenly perks up again and gasps sharply. She leans into you, filling your vision with her face. "Do you have—?!" "Oreos?" You push her back a bit by the shoulders as you try to remember. "I'll go check." You get up and make your way upstairs. Behind you, Velvet squeals and hits Valentino's arm excitedly. You hear the pimp say, "Calm down, Vel." but he sounds a bit excited, too. You go into your room and look into your snack drawer. After pushing aside a package of candies you spot a blue Oreo package hidden within and pull it out of the drawer. You grab some scissors before you bring it downstairs and show it to the demons triumphantly. They visibly brighten at the sight of it and won't stop looking at it in awe even as you cut it open. You hand them each a pack and they waste no time in tearing them open. They each toss a cookie into their mouths and simultaneously moan with delight as they bite into it. "So... So good," Valentino says with his mouth still full. Some drool drips down his chin and your fingers twitch with the urge to wipe it with a napkin. Velvet crams the other two Oreos into her mouth without even swallowing the first one and gets crumbs all over her dress and your tablecloth. Valentino at least takes his time to savour the sweet, sugary goodness. The demoness next to him reaches for another packet but you pull it out of her reach. She pouts like a puppy but you remain firm. "If you eat them all there won't be any left for other demons," is your reasoning, but really you don't want them to eat too much and get sick. You know how terrible that feeling is. Besides, you mother them enough as it is. "Just buy more." Velvet whines, making grabby motions with both her hands. "I'm not made of money," you say. Valentino opens his mouth so you add, "I can only get promoted so many times." "Actually, what I was going to say was that you could get a better job. We can easily make that happen, baby. You've just gotta ask." He winks and snaps his fingers with a flourish. "Thanks, but I like my current job," you say with a polite smile. "It's not the best pay, but it pays good and I like doing it." "Suit yourself, then." the pimp sighs and takes another Oreo. "I mean, with the extra money you could get some better clothes," Velvet comments, glancing at your outfit. You furrow your brows at her and she shrugs. "A change could be nice." "My clothes are perfectly fine as long as they fit me." you state with finality. "There's nothing wrong with looking good, sugar." You cast Valentino a look at that. "Not that you don't look good, I'm just saying that you could look better." "Well, I don't care about looking better. I like how I look right now." When clothes shopping, you usually just get whatever you think looks good, comfortable and is affordable. You've never really thought about how good anything looks on you and you don't really have any regard for style and brands. It was less of a hassle that way. "Are the clothes in Hell off-brand, too?" you wonder aloud. "Oh yeah, totally," Velvet says as she snaps a picture of the Oreo pack with her 'Hellphone'. She picks at the fabric of her dress. "A lot of the stuff for sale are tacky as Hell. If you want good clothes, you gotta make them yourself or pay really good money." "All my clothes are custom made and cost more than your house." Valentino adds. He gestures with all four of his arms and you easily understand why that could be. A lot of people in Hell probably didn't care to make clothes that accommodated demons that are shaped less like average humans. "That sucks." "It's Hell, babe," Valentino shrugs. "Everything sucks." "Even movies?" you question. "Yeah. Well," the pimp smirks. "Not our movies." Oh right. They make porn. You're not into that stuff, but you understand how some people are. All to their own. "Drugs don't pay for themselves!" Velvet laughs hysterically before adding, "We sell drugs too." Well, no wonder they were so stinking rich and high up Hell's hierarchy. Sure, power played a part, but down in Hell stuff like porn and drugs are likely really high in demand, you'd think. Velvet suddenly gasps again and turns to you with wide eyes. "O. M. G. Do you have—" Drugs? "—Movies?!" You look at her quizzically. "Of course I do—" "Ohmygoshohmygosh!" She's practically vibrating with excitement and her pupils dilate to the extreme. She's so excited that you're afraid that she might explode and get blood all over your dining room. Her claws snag on your shirt as she pulls you close. "Can we borrow them?!" You're about to say "Yes." when you second-guess it. You close your mouth and take a moment to think about it, prying Velvet's hands off of you as you did. "I... Don't know." you end up saying. Honestly, you don't doubt that she'd slit your throat and snatch up all your DVDs (or just steal them without going through the trouble of killing you) if you said "No." Velvet grins maniacally, giggling. "Don't trust us with your movies, huh? Haha! I wouldn't either!" "How about a movie night?" Valentino suggests. You look up at him and you swear his eyes are sparkling with excitement at his own idea. "Instead of borrowing them, let's watch them all here!" He grins expectantly at you and you suspect that he expects you to hate the idea, but surprisingly, you don't. Having a movie night with some demons isn't a bad idea. It'd be just like having a movie night with humans, but demons. It's been a long time since you've had a movie night with anyone, anyway, so it'll be nice. "That sounds fun," you say truthfully and Valentino frowns. "I can prepare the snacks, but oh—Don't you guys have work, though?" "We already have a night set aside for movies!" Velvet pipes up. "Ooh, Vox's gonna love it!" That makes you pause. "Vox?" "Um, yeah! We can't have a movie night without Vox!" she says as if it's the most obvious thing. "The point of movie night is so that we can hang out, duh."

(That's pretty much it. Thanks for reading y'all.)

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #fanfic wip #one-shot #unfinished fic #valentino #hazbin valentino #velvet #hazbin velvet #the consequences of a magic sandwich #demons #maj writes #sandwiches #lemonade #if it isn't obvious I have no idea what I'm doing #btw do y'all laugh at your own jokes #bc I legit cracked up at the Drugs? part #bc I'm lame lol

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fbwzoo · 4 years

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Dragonhaus is doing a big sale this week because they just upgraded to a commercial working space! Dunno if anyone's needing new vivs, but it's a great time to get one from these guys!

#reptiblr #vivs #vivariums #snakes #lizards #I'm seriously considering ordering Charis's #with my next paycheck #gotta talk to the boys #but it's nearly $100 off....

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smokeysister · 4 years

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The Stepford Game: Part 1

(This story features brainwashing, mind control, stepfordization, and unintentional reality warping)

Carrie wandered through the mall, trailing after her friends as they talked excitedly to one another. She was of average height for a 20 year old college student, albeit a bit plain looking. She kept her blonde hair in a pixie cut, and wore the bare minimum when it came to makeup. She didn’t even paint her nails or do anything with them beyond clipping them when they got long. Even her clothes were unremarkable. Just jean shorts, flip flops, and a red crop top. Carrie stuck her hands in her pockets and sighed. Normally she enjoyed mall crawling with the girls, and it was spring break too! But she just felt so listless and bored. Nothing could really excite her. Even her last few dates with her boyfriend, Kent, had ended with her going home early and wondering if she should just end the relationship. But out of the corner of her eye, Carrie saw something that did interest her, at least a little bit. There was a new store, or at least one that she had never seen there before. It looked like an old hobby shop, with dusty windows and old toys and games in the display. Little toy cars and train sets that seemed to be from the 1950s, all made of painted wood and metal. Probably lead paints, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose. Still, the store had caught her attention. All of the other hobby shops and toy stores in the mall had been closed down and replaced by tech stores years ago, so it was an odd duck out. And it seemed to be empty.

“Carrie? Why are you lagging?” Vivian asked. She was Carrie’s best friend, ever since they were little kids. If Carrie was unremarkable and plain, Vivian was anything but. She had ivory skin, with heavy black and red makeup that never seemed to leave her face. Her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders, and she was always wearing black leather and lace. Silver studs dotted her chin, cheeks, and nose, and she had large black gauges in her ears. She wore a black band shirt, which advertized one of the endless list of heavy metal bands she listened to, and which showed off her sleeve tattoos. She had ripped jeans and combat boots to complete the edgy look. And of course, she always looked dour and grumpy. “Huh? O-oh, I was just… Looking at something,” Carrie mumbled. The other girls turned around and joined her, looking the store up and down, with varying reactions. “What is this place?” Linh asked innocently. “Who cares? I gotta head to the apple store and get a new phone!” Mariah complained. Linh and Mariah were Carrie’s other closest friends. Linh was tall, asian, and had long black hair that reached all the way to the bottom of her back. She was wearing an oversized purple t-shirt that hung off of one shoulder and a pair of black and white gym shorts, as well as a pair of glasses with thin wire frames. Mariah was the shortest of the bunch. She was black, and wore her hair in bright, multi colored dreadlocks. The most athletic of the group, she wore a blue basketball jersey and a pair of mesh shorts, as well as some worn out sneakers. “Can we look inside first?” Carrie begged. She wasn’t totally sure why she wanted to check it out, but it… Well, it called to her. “Please?” “I’m with Carrie. It could be fun!” Linh agreed. “I don’t really care one way or the other,” Vivian said with a shrug. “...Alright, fine!” Mariah agreed. “But we’re going to the apple store after! I promised Mark I’d text him tonight when I need a ride home.” “I told you, my mom could give you a ride if you needed,” Linh offered. “Sure, she’s got work early tomorrow morning, but I could probably convince her if we really need to.” Carrie felt a pang of sadness when Linh mentioned her mother. Linh’s mom was always busy with work, ever since her dad had left them. As a result, Linh was just about always at home alone, or spending her time at their houses, but Carrie knew that she missed being able to spend time with her mom. But as much as she’d like, there wasn’t really anything Carrie could do to change that. “Let’s go inside then,” Carrie said, trying to shift over to the less serious topic. She walked into the store, and the other three followed after her. The inside of the shop was just as musty as the outside, and it seemed as though nobody had shopped there in years, if not decades. In fact, the only person inside, aside from themselves, was an old man behind the counter, keeping watch over an old metal cash register. “Talk about old,” Mariah said, wrinkling her nose. “I dunno,” Carrie said. “I think all this old vintage stuff is kinda cool.” “I was talking about the guy,” Mariah snorted. She looked down her nose at an old train set from the 1930s and rolled her eyes. “So what do you sell here?” Linh asked the owner. He was a short, stocky, warm old man, with thick rimmed glasses and a forest green sweater vest. “Oh, old toys and games, mostly,” he explained with a friendly chuckle. “I don’t get too many customers, but whenever I do, they always manage to find something to enjoy.” “I somehow doubt that,” Mariah snarked. If her remark offended the old man, he certainly didn’t show it. He just kept on smiling fondly, as though he were talking to his grandchildren. “I have to agree with Mariah,” Vivian said, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the store. “I haven’t met anyone, our age or younger, who has even a passing interest in a game that doesn’t involve a CPU.” “Ah, people can surprise you!” the man claimed. “Why, just last month, I had a little boy come in with his mother. Just like you say, he wasn’t interested in anything other than his fortnights or call of battlefield, but then he found this little wooden car, over on that wall. The second he laid eyes on it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He begged his mother to buy it for him, and then he ran right on past the game store down the way, because he couldn’t wait to get home and play with the car.” “Suuuure he did,” Mariah muttered under her breath. She gave up on even pretending to be interested in the store’s contents, and so she stayed by the front entrance and leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “I can believe it,” Carrie said, smiling at the old man. “There are still people who like this old vintage stuff. Collectors, you know? They’ve gotta start somewhere.” “I guess…” Vivian agreed, tentatively. Linh, however, seemed to be fully on Carrie’s side. While Linh and Vivian looked at a few old toy soldiers, Carrie wandered off, towards the back of the store, where there was an array of board games stacked in a pyramid. At the very top of the pile was one with a name she didn’t recognize at all. Even the brand on the box, the people who made it, didn’t ring any bells. Milton Bradley they were not. But the cover of the box is what caught her attention, as well as an odd name, which clashed with the date that it was made. “The Stepford Game?” she asked nobody in particular. Wasn’t that story from the 1970s? But the game, from it’s production date to the scene on the cover, dated the game to the early 1950s, roughly twenty years earlier than that horror film her cousin showed her. But the box seemed so interesting, so unique. It had an idyllic image on the cover, showing a group of six housewives chatting on a patio. They were all different races, which seemed surprising, given the era. But they also looked so happy. Genuinely happy, too, not that fakey happiness that old advertisements always involved. Carrie didn’t even have to think twice about it. She was going to buy the board game. Like the old man said in his story about the little boy, she was transfixed. She knew that it was now or never, somehow. If she walked out of the store without it, she would never find this piece of history ever again, no matter how hard she searched. She picked the box up and hugged it close to her chest as she raced back to the counter. “I’ll take this, please!” Carrie said with an eager smile as she set the box down on the glass countertop. “Huh? Really?” Vivian asked, looking up from a pack of baseball cards that the man had been showing to her and Linh. “Oh, cool! I haven’t played a board game in ages!” Linh said. “We can play it back at my house tonight!” Carrie nodded enthusiastically, happy that her friend was down with trying it out. “C’mon, Viv, play it with us?” Carrie asked. It didn’t take much encouragement. If it made Carrie happy, Vivian was willing to do just about anything, no matter how hokey. Vivian gave the box one last suspicious look, but then she sighed and relented. “Alright, I’m in. It’s gonna be weird, but whatever. Weird is my middle name.” What she didn’t admit was that the image of the happy housewives on the cover seemed almost… interesting? She didn’t have the faintest clue as to why, but Vivian had a hard time avoiding looking at them, no matter how many times she forced her gaze away. “That’s the spirit!” Carrie said. “So, um, how much do I owe you, sir?” she asked the man. “For that one? Just $5.” “Wait, really? Even Monopoly costs, like, $20, and that’s new. This has to be worth more than that, right?” Carrie asked, shocked at how cheap the offer was. “Everything here goes for the original sale price, dear,” the old man said with a smile. “And in 1952, that board game was $5, so $5 it is.” “Alright, awesome!” Carrie said as she handed the man a five dollar bill. “Seriously, mister, thank you so much!” “Thank you, my dear! Have a swell time!” “Believe me, dude, we will!” Linh said with a laugh as she threw her arms around Vivian and Carrie’s shoulders. Carrie picked the box up and hugged it close to her chest again as the three headed to the exit, where Mariah joined them. “You’re forcing me to play that dumbass game with you, aren’t you?” she asked, dreading the answer that she knew was coming. “Yes, yes we are,” Carrie insisted with a bright and cheery smile. She had a wonderful feeling about this game. She hadn’t been this excited in a long, long time. ********************* “Mom! We’re home!” Linh said as the four girls climbed out of Vivian’s black Tesla. Her mother was sitting on the front porch, typing away on a laptop. “Mhm. There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry. But try to be quiet tonight, okay? It might be my day off, but I still have to review these case notes, and I don’t need any distractions,” Linh’s mother said coldly. “Right. Sorry, mom. We’ll try not to cause too much noise,” Linh said, looking a bit crestfallen for a moment, before she put a smile back on her face and led the others inside. They headed straight up to Linh’s bedroom, on the top floor of the house. She was the only one of the group who lived at home year round, since she lived close to their college, and so her room looked, well, lived in. The bed wasn’t made, and there was a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, which Linh shoved into a closet to deal with later. Meanwhile, Carrie set the board game box down on the white carpet, in the center of the room. Vivian sat to her right, Linh sat to her left, and Mariah sat across from her. Carrie opened the box and set the top off to the side, then pulled out the game board. It was set up to look like an idyllic 1950s suburban neighborhood, with white picket fences and green hedges separating rows of identical houses. The starting point was the local grocery store, and the ending point seemed to be a lively barbecue in someone’s backyard, attended by the whole neighborhood. There was also a small speaker set into the center of the board, though it didn’t seem to have any buttons connected to it. Carrie grabbed the rulebook and started skimming through it, reading aloud for everyone to hear while they all picked out a character piece to represent themselves. The tiny plastic figures were all identical, being little housewives with poofy skirts and beehive hairdos, but they were set apart by their colors. Vivian grabbed the black piece, while Linh grabbed the purple one, and Mariah grabbed the blue one. Vivian picked out the red piece for Carrie, knowing that it was her favorite color. “The Stepford Game. Two to eight players. Roll the dice, yada yada, pick up cards from the appropriate piles… Always read the card out loud… Event spaces, chore spaces, reality spaces, and wardrobe spaces… Fail a chore challenge, get a punishment… First to reach the barbecue wins, but the game doesn’t end until everyone arrives. Sounds simple enough, yeah?” “Yep. So who goes first?” Vivian asked. She still couldn’t believe that they were actually playing this thing. The things she did to make Carrie happy… “It says that we have to roll for turn order,” Carrie explained, after finding the appropriate rule. Carrie got a six, Linh got a five, Vivian a three, and Mariah a two. “Okay, so I go first!” Carrie said with an eager grin. She was hoping that she’d be the first one to get a turn. Carrie shook the dice in her hands and then rolled them along the carpet. She got a four, and so she picked up the little red housewife piece and moved it to the fourth spot, which was marked as a wardrobe space. After double checking the rules to make sure she was supposed to do so, Carrie took the top card off of the wardrobe deck and looked it over. The card had a drawing of a woman’s hand, with long, perfectly manicured nails, which were being lovingly painted. There was also text on the card, which Carrie read for the group. “Fresh Coat of Paint. You spent the afternoon taking care of your precious little digits, and now you’ve got a lovely manicure and a new coat of paint to go with it! Keep good care of those nails, dearie!” A second after she finished reading the card, the speaker in the center of the board played a happy jingle, and Carrie felt a little tingle on the tips of her fingers. When she set the card down, she noticed something peculiar. Her nails, which had been cut short and unpainted just a second ago, were now long, perfectly manicured, and colored cherry red. Her eyes went wide with shock, but she played it off as if nothing odd had happened, and set the card aside, then folded her hands in her lap. Nobody else seemed to notice the sudden change, but she had to wonder… What kind of game had she bought, exactly? “Alright, my turn!” Linh said as she snatched up the dice and tossed them again. A three. “One, two, three… Reality space? What’s that mean?” Linh asked once her game piece landed on the tile. “You’ve gotta draw a reality card,” Carrie said, reading from the rule list. “Here you go.” She picked the top card from that deck and handed it to Linh, who began to read it aloud. “Like Mother, Like Daughter: Being a housewife runs in the family. You grew up with a mother who is the spitting image of a 1950s sitcom housewife, and you’ve always wanted to be just like her when you grew up.” Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, and everything was swamped in a strange darkness. The hair on the backs of the girls’ necks stood on end, before the lights flickered back on and everything went back to normal. “Well of course I want to be just like my mom!” Linh said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s always been my role model!” Suddenly, a voice called out from the other room, and then Linh’s mother poked her head in to see how the girls were doing. “Are you girls having fun?” she asked in a voice as sweet as apple pie. Her hair was freshly permed from a trip to the salon that morning, and she was wearing a bright red shirtdress, with a ballooning skirt pushed out by several petticoats, and a white apron tied around her waist. In her hands, she held a tray of chocolate chip cookies. “I baked you some treats, in case you were hungry!” “Thanks mom! You’re the best!” Linh gushed as she took the plate off of her mother’s hands and set it down on her bed. The four young adults all began munching on the cookies with blissful smiles on their faces. Linh’s mom really was the perfect housewife! No wonder she wanted to get married and become a homemaker herself. It was all she ever talked about! Carrie was so happy that her friend had such a caring, doting mother. Even Vivian and Mariah liked Linh’s mom, even though she was so old fashioned. “Your turn, Vivian!” Linh said, handing her the dice. Vivian tossed the dice onto the carpet, and came up with a six. She moved her little black housewife piece six spaces, and ended up on a wardrobe space. Following what Carrie had done earlier, she grabbed the top card off of the pile and looked at it suspiciously. The card had a drawing of a cartoon housewife on it, with natural red hair tied back in a high ponytail. “Dye Job: You spent a day at the salon, and now you’ve got a brand new style. Being a redhead suits you, doesn’t it?” The little speaker on the center of the board played a jaunty little jingle, and all the girls watched Vivian with wide eyes, surprised by what they saw. A wave of light orange-red color swept across Vivian’s hair, from the top of her head down to her shoulders, until her jet black hair was gone, and she looked just like a natural redhead. Even her eyebrows changed color to match! And once that was done, a black ribbon seemed to appear out of thin air, and tied itself around her hair, pulling the bright red locks up into a ponytail, identical to the one on the card. “Uh… Did everyone else just see that?” Mariah asked, unable to break eye contact. It was just too bizarre. “I think she looks nice! You make a cute redhead, Viv!” Linh said with a giggle. “Yeah!” Carrie agreed enthusiastically. “It really suits you.” “No, seriously! Her hair just changed color!” Mariah exclaimed, pointing at Vivian, who was blushing a bit. “Well, yeah, it did. But it’s cute!” Linh giggled. “Maybe it’s a magic board game?” Carrie proposed. The idea had been swimming around in her head since her turn, when her nails had transformed. She took a deep breath and held up her hands for everyone to see. “My nails changed too, after I drew my card. See? They were normal before, but now they’re manicured, just like the card said,” Carrie explained. Vivian looked a bit relieved, seeing that she wasn’t the only one who had been affected. “Magic?” Mariah asked, baffled. “You think you bought a magic board game?” “Do you have a better idea?” Vivian asked. For her, the idea of a magic board game wasn’t absurd at all. She was Wiccan, and so magic was perfectly normal in her mind. “Old games like these, someone might have cursed it or something.” “So we’re playing a cursed board game, and you’re all just… Fine with that?” “Well… If you find a magic board game, why not?” Carrie asked. “It’s like something out of a movie!” “I guess…” Mariah said. Still, she wasn’t sure this was the best idea. “But if this game goes all Jumanji on us, I’m out.” “My only question is why nothing happened to Linh,” Vivian said, looking at their unaffected friend. “Carrie’s nails were painted, and my hair changed color, but Linh’s card just said a fact about her life. Right now, that’s the weird part.” “Well, it is a reality card, so maybe it knows something about the players, and is saying it?” Linh offered as an explanation. It made about as much sense as anything else. “But seriously, though, Vivian’s hair is SO. CUTE. I love it, Viv!” “Um… thanks, I think?” Vivian said. She could feel the change as it occurred, the tingle that swept across her whole body, wherever she had hair. But she wasn’t upset by the transformation, for some reason. Logically, she could just dye it black again if she really wanted to. And really, it just didn’t bother her. “My turn, then,” Mariah said as she grabbed the dice and rolled, scared of what might happen. With any luck, she’d get a reality space like Linh, and she’s just get a card that talked about how she nearly flunked her statistics course. But no, she got a one, and groaned in frustration. She moved the blue housewife forward one space, onto a wardrobe tile. Vivian handed her a card, which Mariah read out in a worried tone, cursing her poor luck. “A Gift From The Hubby. Your husband bought you a pretty new dress, and it would be terribly rude not to try it on for your date night!” Again, there was a cartoon housewife on the card, though this one looked more like Mariah, with long dreadlocks and dark brown skin. She was wearing a fancy, low cut evening dress, made of a seafoam green satin, with a full skirt and a sheer silver shawl. Once again, the speaker on the board played its jingle, but this time the effect was much more pronounced. Mariah’s clothing vanished in the blink of an eye, but she was only nude for a split second before the outfit from the card had entered the real world and wormed its way onto Mariah’s body. “What just happened?!” Mariah asked, alarmed. Carrie and Vivian were both similarly shocked, but Linh just smiled and patted Mariah on the lap. “What a gorgeous dress! It looks just like the one my mom wears when she goes out to dinner with daddy!” “Yeah, b-but what happened to my jersey?!” Mariah exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Girls, seriously, this game, i-it’s not normal! Just look at what it did to me! What it did to Vivian’s hair!” “I don’t really mind my hair…” Vivian mumbled, missing the point entirely. “Mariah, calm down, okay?” Carrie pleaded, placing her hand over Mariah’s. “I’m sure this’ll all go back to normal once the game is over, okay? That’s what the rules say, at least.” “Really? You’re sure?” Mariah asked, still very uneasy, and not at all comfortable wearing the fancy vintage dress. She sat down slowly, her petticoats rustling as she awkwardly sat down cross legged on the floor. Her skirt flounced upwards, and ruffly petticoats poked out from beneath it’s hem. Clearly, she wasn’t used to sitting down in dresses. “Yeah, I’m sure. Like I said… The rules say this is all temporary,” Carrie lied. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

#stepfordization #50s housewife #1950s #housewife #smokeysis

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raxlestrange · 5 years

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Bury the Hatchet or Bury A Friend | Phoebe x Sam x Avery

Phoebe

Phoebe shoved a Marlboro Gold between her crimson lips as she weaved through the crowded street, waving on her newest business partner with her free hand. Their recent alliance was already proving to be lucrative with the whereabouts of the bookstore attacker secured. A little too secure for Phoebe's liking.

"My contact’s shop's just up the road." Phoebe quipped, not wanting to waste any more time. Especially when a potential lead could turn cold, or worse get thrown into Azkaban. Upon arrival, she cast her eyes at Sam "Let's go. He's expecting us."

Sam

Sam kept up with Phoebe’s pace with ease, though that wasn’t overly impressing considering his legs were practically the size of his new companion. He wasn’t quite she what to think of her yet, nor was he sure if she would be a reliable partner, but right now he couldn’t afford to let the opportunity slip. Besides, it wouldn’t be hard to get rid of her if she betrayed him.

He was mostly the muscle of this operation, even if he wasn’t a vampire it wasn’t often people tried to fuck with the giant man, especially not when he was visibly pissed off. He gave her a nod and a quiet grunt in response, pulling his jacket closer to himself. As they approached the store, he opened the door, a small bell sounding, and held it for the younger woman. “Ladies first.”

Avery

Avery raised his eyes from the inventory notes he had been taking for what felt like the dozenth time in the past ten minutes. Of course, he always greeted customers when they arrived — as was the polite thing to do — but he was expecting some very important company that afternoon. When Phoebe had approached him with a lead, he was surprised to learn that the otherwise quite solitary woman would be bringing the owner of this particular lead along. The allomancer still wasn’t sure if he could trust the spitfire woman, let alone this new stranger, but he had pulled his weight thus far and he could only hope that they were prepared to do the same.Directing his employee at the front of the shop to keep an eye on things for a moment, he greeted his new... business partners.

“Miss Maddock—“ Avery nodded to the smaller woman before lifting his gaze to the tall stranger. “Perhaps introductions are better done behind closed doors... if you will both follow me.” He canted his head towards his office before leading the way, directing them behind sturdy wood and soundproofed walls.

Phoebe

Phoebe stamped out her light, allowing the last bits of smoke and exhaust to fill her lungs before entering. As per Sam's request, Phoebe strode through the familiar doors to Allomancy. She nodded a deliberate thanks to the taller man, taking a quick second to marvel at his impressive height. Phoebe liked to think she had seen it all, but she never seen a man quite as tall as Sam before. It was curious, and it would have to wait.

"Lestrange." Phoebe nodded back, bringing her attention to the man behind the counter. "Lead the way." She was familiar with the manner in which the eldest Lestrange had conducted his business affairs having worked with him a number of times in past. It was no surprise that they were going to keep the contents of this particular deal private as well.

Phoebe then nodded a second time. This time at Sam as if to wordlessly say that it was all clear and then proceed to follow Avery to the more secure location. If they were going to work together they would need to develop a systematic form of communication.

As instructed, Phoebe waited for the door to close behind them before she began the introductions. "Lestrange, this is Samuel Prince. He owns the bookshop down the road.” Her eyes darted between the gentlemen. "Prince, Avery Lestrange. I do believe the lot of us have similar interests. Interests that involve the outcome of recent events and Lestrange’s particular skill set.”

Sam

Lestrange was a familiar name to Sam, it was about time he met the eldest. He was unsure how the interaction would go; he was go friends with Viv, but Marius was a whole other story. Hopefully this man wasn’t as annoying as his brother, otherwise he might have to eat him, too. However, he trusted Phoebe knew what she was doing, at least for now, and Sam was too desperate to turn down her services and information.

His usual extroverted demeanor was replaced with an irritable and quiet mask, returning the young female’s nod and trailing after her and the eldest Lestrange silently, the only sound coming from his black boots against the floor. Sam nodded at the other gentleman, muttering a quiet “pleasure to meet you” even if he knew the circumstances were anything but a pleasure — even after all these years he couldn’t help his manners, he guessed that was his mother’s doing.

Avery

Avery nodded to each of the visitors in turn, noting how even he had to lift his gaze to meet the other man’s. He only vaguely recognized the other store owner despite his striking size and features, but he had heard plenty about his misfortune. The damage wasn’t irreparable from what he had seen, but the vandalizing had already caused a lull in business for himself— he could only imagine what such a targeted attack must have done to Sam’s. Not to mention the added drama of Potter’s mental break; from what he had read in the papers, the victim had been a friend of Prince’s. Surely that was motivation enough to team up with a vengeful Maddock, but Avery couldn’t help but wonder if there were something else driving him to such extremes.

“The pleasure is mine. My deepest apologies about your storefront, I know better than many how that kind of attention can influence sales... though I suspect business may not be the only reason you’ve come.”

“Nonetheless— I have kept up my end of the bargain thus far. This room has been carefully safeguarded by yours truly, I trust we can speak freely among these walls.” The metal charmer pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, opening the cabinet behind his desk and pulling a sturdy black box from one of its shelves. He brought the box to the table, raising an eyebrow at his occasional business partner.

“Have you informed him what I have been tasked to do?”

Phoebe

Phoebe scanned the room, deep brown irises narrowing with intent as she inspected the area for any ill will. It was more out of instinct than mistrust, and general good practice when it came to making these sorts of deals. Judging by their similar interests and previous work together, she didn’t have reason to distrust this Lestrange.

Satisfied, Phoebe nodded towards Avery allowing the pair to finish up their introductions before continuing on with more urgent matters.

“He has been briefed.” Phoebe confirmed, her eyes flickering towards her new ally then back to the eldest Lestrange, hunger and impatience apparent in them now. “As have you. Now, enough with all the small talk. Let’s see this prototype of yours.”

Avery

Avery nodded his head, fighting back a wave of nerves and excitement as he took out his wand, large hands working over the box with a series of quick mutters to unseal the item from its case. He was nothing if not thorough, but he couldn’t help the concerns that had wormed into the back of his mind. Working on this new piece had left him feeling equal parts challenged and accomplished, and while he was confident in his abilities, there was always a certain risk that came with such prototypes—a risk the other two couldn’t exactly afford considering their plans. He would have loved more time to develop and test, but felt comfortable that they would find use in the piece as it was.

“You’ll notice it looks very simple—unassuming. Exactly what you would want for such a task.” Avery slid the long silver cord from its box, twisting and turning the enchanted metal in his hands to show how it could be linked and unlinked, extended and shrunken.

“The base metal is no longer than a standard necklace, so you’ll notice it can’t shrink beyond that length. However, the charms I have layered should allow it to wrap and extend to your bidding... but there is a catch. Such a binding charm can only be broken with certain materials. Long ago they might have used a unicorn horn, but we don’t exactly have time for such unwieldy tools..”

Sam

After living through the Middle Ages and all of the lovely torture devices of the time, the puny ass chain almost made Sam laugh. Instead, a scoff escaped his lips and his eyes rolled. Who even was this guy to be making something for their task? Phoebe trusted him it seemed, but Sam wasn’t sure if he could trust her either.

“Are you going to tell us what it does or would you prefer we guess?” The vampire sassed, arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes piercing into the younger male. He couldn’t help but distrust him, he was a Lestrange after all. Of course, he loved Viv, but if Avery was anything like his brother he might be the next on his grocery list.

Phoebe

Phoebe’s eyes managed to widened at the silver chord as it resized itself several times, then regrettably sink as Avery's explanations continued on and on. Phoebe didn’t have time for all the subtle nuisance and intricacies of the product, not while Alfie's killer's still drew breath.

In an attempt to ease Sam’s frustrations that mirrored her own, Phoebe stood on her tiptoes and placed a hand on as close as she could get to the tall man’s shoulders. She, too, was beginning to grow impatient even if she respected Avery and his craft enough to tolerate his introductory ramblings.

But enough was enough.

"Perhaps a demonstration.” Phoebe suggested, darkened irises flickering towards the noise proof door. A smirk snaked across her crimson lipstick. “I saw a few willing participants in the store front."

Avery

Avery wasn’t offended by Pheobe or the stranger’s reaction, if only because he was confident that the cord’s complex hidden utility would prove them wrong for underestimating him. He was slightly put off by the man’s attitude, but trusted that Phoebe would not take someone on as a partner if he were incompetent or not to her liking. Desperate as she may be to find out what happened to her brother, he knew his business partner was nothing if not ten steps ahead of the game.

“I was getting there,” the allomancer replied cooly, “Though business is already at risk as it is, so perhaps a volunteer would be more appropriate?”

Avery raised a challenging eyebrow, extending his hands with the cord for one of them to allow him to fasten it. “You see, when the metal is melted down for production I am able to add certain ingredients and elixirs to imbibe the metal with. Only trace amounts of course—“ he reckoned they didn’t care much about how added liquid could change the composition of the metals and compromise the item, but his point still stood. “Enough to produce certain qualities, however. For example, if an allomancer were to have some veritaserum on hand...”

Sam

A small huff escaped the young vampire’s lips as Miss Maddock’s hand met his shoulder, containing the urge to shrug it away. Be nice, he told himself, even if the gesture reminded him of Teddy and Teddy made him want to rip his heart out of his chest like a Mortal Kombat fatality, except on himself.

Anyway, he wasn’t overly impressed by his new companion, but he was already getting attached to Phoebe and wasn’t going to let her try out Mr I-Have-A-Crazy-Brother’s new contraption. Sticking out a tan hand, he pulled up his leather jacket’s sleeve to expose his wrist, allowing the stranger to fasten it around him.

Avery

Avery wasted no time, slipping the cord around the taller man’s wrist, wrapping the cool metal several times before attaching it to itself. He pulled back, the tail end following his own hand as he leaned against the desk. “Now, Mr. Prince... I want you to lie to me. Have you ever killed someone?”

Sam

If Sam was being completely honest, this was the only question he didn’t want to be asked. He released a breath, closing his dark eyes before mumbling a quiet no.

Avery

Avery watched as the cord began to glisten faintly, felt as the heat began to travel from his end of the cord to the taller man’s wrist. The heat was tolerable enough to maintain his grip, though surely after prolonged exposure it would be blistering. A faint smile graced his lips, just barely concealing the pride he felt at seeing his invention serve its purpose.

“Not to worry, Mr. Prince— there will be no judgement here. Business is business after all, and your presence here tells me all I need to know for this particular transaction.”

“Would you like to test it for yourself, Miss Maddock? Or shall we set our friend here free?”

Phoebe

Phoebe leaned in watching intently as the device was fastened around the taller man's wrist. Her lips twisted into a wicked smirk once the demonstration was underway, and she nodded at Sam impressed not only with his readiness to volunteer, but with his answer to Avery's question. Having Sam in her ragtag crew was continuing to prove more and more valuable.

"The more lies the more pain." Phoebe confirmed. It wasn't so much a question as it was a mere admission of the facts. A simple yet effective formula.

"That will be enough. I'm not interested in injuring my associate before we get our hands on the bastard it's really for." She faced the eldest Lestrange now. "And how long are these effects projected to last? Hours..?" she trailed, matter of factly, a plan already beginning to form in her mind. "Days?"

Sam

The stranger’s chain barely phased Sam, but he supposed it would do — after all, most humans couldn’t endure the pain he did after he was sick with the plague, repeatedly cut by Medieval healers in attempt to bloodlet the disease, and then changed into the monster he is today.

“It’ll do,” he shrugged, barely flinching at the affects. He was sure they were beginning to question his humanity, but he hoped they’d keep their mouths shut. If they ended up trying to spill his secrets like dumbass Marius, they’d end up missing and look like victims of the Guardians. At this point in time, Sam wasn’t looking to play with his food.

Avery

“Precisely—“ Avery nodded to the smaller woman. “Naturally I haven’t had the chance to test its prolonged effects, but I imagine there’s a certain threshold after which the heat ceases to increase, or else we would reach a melting point.”

“The effects of the charm won’t fade, though they don’t seem to last for a particularly long time following each lie. More of a detecting charm than anything, not unlike the Sneakoscope. If the lie is present it will continue to radiate heat, but you will have to get creative if they choose to remain silent — though I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with that.”

Avery turned to grab a dagger from the box, returning to his position in front of Mr. Prince once more to gesture for his wrist. He broke the chain with the blade, the cord shrinking back to its original size. “Unicorn horn. Not the most complex, I’d have liked to work out a more functional binding system for the future... but for now it should do the trick.”

Phoebe

Phoebe nodded as Avery rambled, committing the details to memory. The piece about getting creative was particularly of interest to her, and she shot Sam a pointed look, perhaps a bit too eager. There certainly was something deliciously peculiar about her new ally, something that Phoebe hoped would prove most useful to their future endeavors together.

Once Sam was set free and logistics were sorted, Phoebe pursed her lips tightly with a hand positioned at her hip and irises like draggers aimed to pierce. Nothing was ever simply handed over to the middle Maddock. There was always a deal or catch, and everything had its price. She then faced Avery, “I assume something of this value doesn’t come cheap...Name your price.”

Sam

If he was being honest, Sam was rather bored. Sure, the trinket would be useful for their plan, but Sam didn’t need fancy gadgets to cause pain to their victim when he grew up around blood, torture, and death. But Phoebe seemed excited and interested so he tried to focus on what the stranger was saying. However, he couldn’t help tuning the pair out and becoming lost in his own thoughts. There was too much going on and too little time to process it all.

The talk of money brought him back, blinking a few times before he felt focused. He was prepared to spend on this endeavor, but he had a feeling Mr Lestrange didn’t want money, he had enough of that.

Avery

“Ah, you always were the quick one—“ Avery set to carefully packaging the cord back into its box with the knife, setting the case free of its various security charms. “Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed this little task. I don’t get asked to work with such... complex parameters... very often. I would be happy to do this without compensation, however...”

“I’d like to be kept in the loop. While I do have a certain image to maintain so that we can keep making arrangements such as these, I consider myself invested in your cause. I have lost in this tragedy as well, and we will all continue to do so if this is allowed to continue.”

The allomancer extended the case out to the woman. “Perhaps we can continue to be of assistance to each other. Surely there are contacts that we don’t share... I can keep my ears to the ground if you are willing to do the same.”

Phoebe

“You have yourself a deal, Mr. Lestrange." Phoebe reached to grab the package from Avery, careful in her movements as she wrapped her thin fingers around the new toy. It's not that she didn't trust the allocmancer, she simply wasn't accustomed to such terms. Then again, information wasn't exactly cheap.

"I believe this is the beginning of a very lucrative partnership." She offered Avery her hand, extended her it towards him. All deals needed to be sealed. "I look forward to continuing business with you."

Sam

Normally Sam would feel awkward at moments like this, however he was at a point where he genuinely didn’t give a fuck. He found himself tuning them out, fiddling with the lip ring he had gotten a few days ago. Probably wasn’t a good idea to play with it, but he wasn’t a human and he was pretty sure the piercing was already healed.

Only when he heard Miss Maddock say they had a deal did he go back to reality. He shoved a hand into his pocket, waiting for the pair to tie up loose ends before he gave Mr Lestrange’s hand a shake. Sam kept silent, apart from a quiet grunt. He didn’t really need Avery’s toy, he was only there because of Phoebe. If they didn’t get what they wanted, Sam would have to pull strings of his own.

#;hermione rally #;sam #;phoebe

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androidavenger · 7 years

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guys oh my god I’ve just remembered

brevoort’s sales strategy as avengers (which includes champions and obviously the crossover) editor is that outrage sells

no-one is happy that viv’s dying, on any platform where it’s discussed people are generally mad I’ve checked

that’s why they’re killing her

it’s not that she’s unpopular - it’s that she’s just popular enough to get people mad about it

#Viv Vision #Champions #The Avengers #Marvel #liv speaks

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maryb121813 · 7 years

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Untitled (Mystic Messenger fan fic Zen x reader)

Part 6

MC was released from Saeran’s hug, she started to lead her small group of men towards the kitchen, Viviane had look of disdain on her face, as she walked near the sale counter. “Is there a problem, Viviane?” she asked. She saw the woman’s jaw clench before speaking, “Yes, yes there is,” she put her hands on her hips, “How the hell do you have men flocking to you? Not just men, good looking ones at that?” MC shook her head, “Viv, jealousy doesn’t look good on you.” she stated, walking away from Viviane, leaving her with her jaw hanging open. “At least she doesn’t know about Jumin,” whispered Seven to Yoosung, causing him to giggle. Once she had the boys settled in the kitchen, on stools and she was back to work making sweets and breads, Saeran spoke, "Now MC, what has the idiot done, in full detail of how it lead to you wanting to kill him.” She flung the bread dough on the table, with a loud thwack, while staring at Seven. "Well you all know that Zen and I broke up four years ago and when I left him, I asked Seven to keep my whereabouts a secret from everyone, like when I was at Rika’s apartment.” another thwack of the dough against the table, making Seven and Yoosung flinch, “That secret was kept for 4 years, till yesterday,” she started kneading the dough till it became a smooth ball. Saeran crossed his arms over his chest, "So what happened yesterday? " She took her dough cutter and started cutting the dough into sections, "Zen showed up here, with roses-" "What color?" Saeran interrupted. "What does the color have to do with anything?" asked Yoosung. "It's the meaning he was trying to convey to MC with the roses. Go on MC, what color were they?" Saeran asked. "Yellow, pink and white." she said Saeran chuckled, shaking his head. "What do those colors mean, Saeran?" asked Yoosung. "Pink means perfect happiness, admiration and "please believe me". Yellow means promise of a new beginning, welcome back and remember me. White," he chuckled, "white means purity, innocence, humility, and "I am worthy of you". He was trying to tell you his feelings with flowers instead of words." Saeran looked at MC, who had created bread dough rabbits and was putting them in the oven. "Wow, what a romantic Zen is." Yoosung commented dreamily. MC snorted in laughter, "Zen has always been a romantic, even in the beginning before we ever met in person." MC watched the rolls bake in the oven, her mind started remembering all the good memories they had shared. Saeran cleared his throat, bringing MC back to the present. "So after he came here with the roses?" he asked. She faced the boys, "He said he wanted to talk about what happened four years ago, and that what happened was a mistake and other things." Saeran narrowed his eyes, telling her to spill the beans on what happened and explain the other things. Seven frowned knowing what she was talking about. Yoosung just looked confused. MC bit her lip and adverted her eyes away from the boys, "Seven?" her voice cracked a little. He heaved a sigh, he knew she wanted him to explain or else if she did she would break down, "MC caught Zen having an affair." Yoosung gasped, covering his mouth. Saeran let a growl slip from his throat. "But that's not all," Seven looked at MC, she nodded her head, telling him to go on. "She found out she was pregnant the same day she caught him." Three pairs of eyes now looked at MC. Both Yoosung and Saeran had looks of disbelief, Seven smiled reassuringly, MC knew that she needed to explain. "A week before I caught Zen, I had a doctors appointment, a normal physical exam, they took a urine sample to check my kidney function. The doctor came in saying 'congratulations MC, you're pregnant.' My mind went blank. We weren't trying to start a family, but I was happy after I let the news sink in.” MC rubbed the bridge of her nose trying to choose her words properly so they could understand what she had to say next, “The following week, the day I found out about Zen, I went to an OBGYN and found out I was 12 weeks pregnant and was carrying my baby further back into my body then a normal woman would. Which is why I didn’t realize I was pregnant sooner, since my baby bump wasn’t noticeable till I got further along in my pregnancy." she inhaled hoping they understood. "Wait, you had a baby?! And you kept it a secret for 4 years! Why? Who else knew?" Yoosung exclaimed. "I didn't want Zen to think he needed to stay with me because I was having his child, when he obviously wasn't happy. Seven was the only-" "Jaehee knew." Seven cut in. MC raised her eyebrows in shock. "Since when?" "When you were having knew of your pregnancy cravings and were also very hormonal, I needed a woman's help and she wee the only one i could go to." he crossed his arms and pouted.

"Fine, I can understand that. I'll admit, I was a monster when I was pregnant, but that's not the point. Seven and Jaehee knew that I was pregnant. I didn't tell the rest of you guys because I knew one of you would tell Zen, then he would be looking for me to try to make things right when I didn't want to be a burden on him or his career."

The oven buzzed, telling MC, her rolls were done. "But MC, you and Zen loved each other right?" asked Yoosung.

MC sighed, pulling the rolls out of the oven, "We did Yoosung, but emotions change, people fall in and out of love now a days."

"Didn't you guys think about getting married and having a family?"

"Yoosung," the pan clattered against the table as she threw it down out of frustration, "That was before I caught him having sex with another woman, those plans were when we were faithful to each other, when I was more than happy to change my name and bare him children. I loved him that much, I'm not sure how much he loved me at the time, but I do know that he's only coming around because he knows I still love him and will go running into his open arms if he asked me to come back!" she shouted.

All three men looked at her with sorrow in their eyes and each one stood and wrapped their arms around each other in a group hug with her in the middle.

"You don't need to cry MC." said Seven.

"Please, stop crying." said Saeran.

"I didn't mean to upset you with my questions MC." said Yoosung.

MC finally realized she had tears spilling from her eyes, they continued to fall down her face and chin as she cried in their arms, each one squeezing her tighter, telling her 'everything will be okay'.

To be continued...

_______________________________________________________

Sorry this took awhile to write, a family emergency came up, being diagnosed with depression and having family problems, with all that I didn’t have the motivation to finish writing this part.

I’m not telling you this for sympathy or to have someone throw me a pity party, I’m saying this because it is hard for me to share my work and my feelings, but my concerned husband came to the rescue and showed me ink therapy and it made me feel a hell of a lot better and happy because i felt the pain of the needle jabbing into me and having a piece of art on my skin, it also made me release everything that I’ve been feeling over the last few weeks and was able to talk to my husband and to someone who had no idea about my situation.

Thank you to those who have read my work so far, and for reading my little venting session. Much love.

#mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger #zen #reader

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promocodenovember2023-blog · 5 years

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$20 OFF $50 Active Target Promo Codes That Work (In Store) 2019 *New*

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