#but look i'm getting a bit tired of the 'jesus is too watered down' argument when folks just want to focus on condemning others

[angedemystere]

You know what gets me about people who complain that The Chosen's Jesus is "too nice"? They're conveniently ignoring who Jesus is being nice to. They're either making a point not to mention (or they do, which is a real yikes) that Jesus is spending a lot of time around sinners, around the downtrodden, around people whom life has kicked in the shins multiple times. These are the people you want Jesus to berate for their sins? These are the people against whom you want the Lion to bare his claws? If you're eager to see him verbally take down the socially empowered self-righteous a few pegs, yeah, me too! But those are not the people Jesus is hanging around most of the time in the show.

And he's not saying there's nothing these people he loves need to repent for.

"It's not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick."

"All must repent or perish."

Are you not paying attention??

[bittersweet--chaos]

Finally, Friday. Morgan has been waiting for the time to go to Shivani's place everh since the fight they had with their mom on Tuesday.

He brought over a friend, who happened to be a girl, and their mom immediately jumped on the sex train- "You're too young! Wait for marriage! If you're going to be a whore you can pack your bags and leave!" Like, Jesus, they were working on a math project. She was forced to be on his knees for a good three hours, it would've been longer if the math project wasn't aparent in the livingroom.

Packing up their bag in last period, Morgan sighs at the sight of the small bible always at the bottom of the bag. He puts their cold water bottle snug next to it, hoping the condensation messes up the text enough to be thrown away. Now, Morgan has no issues with religious people, he thinks that when someone has faith in another world it's cute, but she's been forced into this mess and it gets tiring, she doesn't want to be on her knees for hours a day, with perminant bruising on their knees, due to their mom thinking that a single thing he did was unholy.

Looking behind him, Shivani smiles, "You ready to go? I think pap's is cooking gumbo tonight."

"yessss, I love his gumbo," Morgan praises. They pick up their bag, "I'll show up in a bit, I need to pack up my bag and tell my mom that I'll be at Dylan's."

Dylan was the red-headed, closeted gay church boy that Morgan's mom loves. Little does she know him and Morgan have screwed around, and now knows that Dylan is very good with his mouth.

Shivani nods, standing up and bringing her bag over her shoulders, "Well I'll let my dad know to leave the door unlocked so you can get in later."

The two say their byes and part ways. Morgan sighs once alone, walking home was always the most peaceful time in his day. They're able to have a moment to rest their brain, until his mom forces them to work or go to church.

The leaves are turning orange and brown, the ones on the ground crunch under Morgan's shoes. A nice breeze hits her back, her hair pushing against their shoulders. Her mom hates how their hair has grown so much, she wants it to be short and not girly, the way he has it now.

But nontheless, Morgan persisted with their hair, even going as far as to explain that he just wanted to look like Jesus, his hair was long, was it not? It shut down her arguments after that, but they still had to kneel in the closet for talking back.

Finally, his apartment can be seen, a big yawn escapes from their lips as they walk into the lobby. Miguel, her neighbor, gives them a small smile and wave, they weren't allowed to talk because of Morgan's mom, she didn't like their family. She smiles back, passing a small paper full of the notes from her English class. Miguel nods in apreciation, walking away to grab his back and put the notes away.

Morgan goes up the stairs, all the way to floor 4, and the second door to the left to make their way inside the small apartment.

"I'm home," Morgan says, expecting his mom to ask how his day was, did they pray before lunch, how much of that bible did they read during reading time in English- he decided to read Animal Farm instead, but they'd never admit to that.

Instead, what was heard was music playing from the kitchen, and the sound of a blender every so often. Going into the kitchen, Morgan sees her little sister, Rachel, making a smoothie out of fresh fruits.

"Hey sis, how're you doing," Morgan asks, moving around her to grab a strawberry from the bowl.

She smacks their hand away from it, "I've been fine, I'm making a strawberry and banana smoothie if you want some." She says, adding more milk into the blender before pressing the button again.

"Yeah, I'm game. Where's the demon if you don't mind me asking?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, grumbling the response, "She's out with the members again, said you gotta stay for the weekend."

A small nod from Morgan directs her attention to them, "Seriously, I think mom's getting suspicious of you constantly hanging out at this supposed 'Dylan's place. She wants you home, and if you don't I think you know the punishment."

"Of course I know the punishment ya brat, but the issue is that my nerve endings in my knees dont care about the weird rug in that closet. She's going to have to try harder to keep me here- you're 14, you can stay home alone." Morgan ruffles her hair as she walks away into the hallway to their shared bedroom.

When the door opens, a pleasant smell fills Morgan's nose, their sister had a collecting habit with candles, and because of Morgan's pyromantic tendencies, it just allows him to light the candles whenever they want.

She moves over to her side of the room, before collecting their bag already filled with the things he would need for the weekend. He walks out of the room, closing the door behind him so that the stench of cigarettes doesn't fill their room.

A door opens and slams shut. It's the front door, shit.

Quietly, Morgan throws the bag into the punishment closet before walking back into the kitchen. Their mom is right in the archway, small and fat, you can see the cigarette smoke stuck onto her clothes. How she birthed two beautiful children, the world may never know.

"Good afternoon," Morgan nods at her, going into the fridge for a water bottle. "I was planning on going on a run-"

"I know where you're going. I've heared everything from Greg and that (insert f slur here) of a son he has."

Both of the children's blood run cold. They've never gone too far, Dylan swears it's just a friends-with-benefits situation but... God what did he spill? Did he out them? Did he rat her out for going to Shivani's? Or was it about Rachel sneaking out to party? There's so much he could've spilled.

Silence pierces everyone's ears, until their mom continued. "You really didn't think I wouldn't find out that my son- the son I raised to be- my son would not only be a (f slur once again) himself but hang out with that... that devil family? You talk to the people I tell you to stay away from.. you have premarital relations you... you're a demon straight from Hell is what you are-"

She continues as Rachel and Morgan just look around. So he really did spill everything, huh. I wonder how much shit he's in...

With another spew of insults and prayers to Jesus above, she stops, the silence fills the room again, clicks from the clock seem so far away now.

"That's it, I've tried- I raised you to know the good of the bible, but even with it you've strayed too far into temptation..." With that, she grabs Morgan's hair and starts to pull him onto the floor. Rachel screams as they slam on the cold floor, a loud crack follows it.

Another yell- from Morgan? Rachel? They can't tell anymore, their ears are ringing, vision is blurring and splochy.

His mom's voice pierces through her confusion, "This is what he deserves! And don't think I'm done with you young lady and your (d slur) friends partying like the (f slur)'s you are!"

Morgan pushes at her hand, feeling their hair rip from her scalp as they push mom off of them. Another scream escapes somewhere, Morgan can feel his conciousness fade, until a smack right on their cheek shakes them awake.

"What the hell?" He shouts.

"Don't you raise your voice at me!" She screams back, smacking Morgan again, throwing her foot down onto their rib, a pain Morgan's never felt before shoots through their entire body.

Rachel's voice can definitley be heard from the neighbors, it would be surprising if the police aren't called at this point. Morgan can hear his mom try to shush Rachel, finally realizing the situation definitley would raise not just a few eyebrows.

Suddenly, his mom rushes at Rachel, throwing her onto the ground- her head hits the sink and she goes silent instantly.

Rage seethes around Morgan as their brain stops spinning, noticing the pool of blood start to grow from under the mop of what Rachel's hair has become.

A gasp is heard from his mom, and she kneels down to start to cradle her near her chest, before turning to Morgan and yells, "What have you done?"

Oh

No way she's pinning that shit on him, are you serious?

That rage hits his heart in a way that he's never felt before, heat starts to envelop it- his throat closes in a weird way as a stream of what feels like fire moves with their veins. And just as fast as it was thrown into him, it was literally thrown out- a stream of blue flames rushes from their elbow, around each finger individually, and pushes their way to her mom- the shock in her eyes felt great in Morgan, until her scream hits her ears.

(SKIP, MOM’S LITERALLY ON FIRE)

The alarms finally start, a bright light flashes onto Morgan’s eyes as he stays still- not moving another inch as they watch the blue flames expand onto the counter, the floor- Rachel- shit.

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, they don’t even remember how they got outside of the building- an officer tried to talk to her, she does remember how they’d lightly touch their shoulder, putting them onto an ambulance, and rubbing the back of their head.

Another moment with no memory, and Morgan was in the hospital, awake, the lights off- must be night- and an officer, a different one, sitting with a laptop next to the bed.

“Ah, it’s good to see you awake Morgan.” She starts, closing the laptop with a small smile. “My name is Amanda, I’m here to ask some questions about the fire that started two nights ago.”

Two? Has Morgan been out for that long? They look out the window next to them, noticing that it wasn’t night, just that the curtains covered the evening glow. Another glance shot a sharp pain to his brain, he groans.

“You have a concussion, a broken nose, and some light scarring on your back and knees. If I can ask, how did you get the lighter scars?” she starts, moving the chair to face his bed, moving her hand onto their lower thigh (close to the knee but not on it).

Morgan nods slightly, still looking out the window- I want Dylan… or Shivani… Maybe her dad has some extra gumbo…

“-Morgan?”

“Right…” he says, looking back to the officer, “Um…”

Her voice is comforting as she continues, “It’s alright, you can speak freely here.”

They nod, gaze going back to the window, “My…m-my mom wasn’t- uh… wasn’t the best caretaker.”

After a few more questions, the officer moves to sit at the foot of their bed. “Now, do you know what an elemental is?“

“A what?” She asks.

“An elemental, a person who’s able to control a certain element, we also call these people empowered humans.”

“So… like X-Men?”

A laugh escapes Amanda, she shakes her head and looks back at Morgan, “You have a touch of fire in your soul, it’s bright and orange with a twinge of purple. We would need to keep surveillance while you get your powers under your control. We will give you a full admission to an academy that specializes in empowered abilities, as well as regular college classes. so, what do ya say?”

I was rooting for Dylan and Morgan up until Dylan became a rat. And I feel so bad for Rachel!!!!!

[redacted-ghost]

Finally, Friday. Morgan has been waiting for the time to go to Shivani's place everh since the fight they had with their mom on Tuesday.

He brought over a friend, who happened to be a girl, and their mom immediately jumped on the sex train- "You're too young! Wait for marriage! If you're going to be a whore you can pack your bags and leave!" Like, Jesus, they were working on a math project. She was forced to be on his knees for a good three hours, it would've been longer if the math project wasn't aparent in the livingroom.

Packing up their bag in last period, Morgan sighs at the sight of the small bible always at the bottom of the bag. He puts their cold water bottle snug next to it, hoping the condensation messes up the text enough to be thrown away. Now, Morgan has no issues with religious people, he thinks that when someone has faith in another world it's cute, but she's been forced into this mess and it gets tiring, she doesn't want to be on her knees for hours a day, with perminant bruising on their knees, due to their mom thinking that a single thing he did was unholy.

Looking behind him, Shivani smiles, "You ready to go? I think pap's is cooking gumbo tonight."

"yessss, I love his gumbo," Morgan praises. They pick up their bag, "I'll show up in a bit, I need to pack up my bag and tell my mom that I'll be at Dylan's."

Dylan was the red-headed, closeted gay church boy that Morgan's mom loves. Little does she know him and Morgan have screwed around, and now knows that Dylan is very good with his mouth.

Shivani nods, standing up and bringing her bag over her shoulders, "Well I'll let my dad know to leave the door unlocked so you can get in later."

The two say their byes and part ways. Morgan sighs once alone, walking home was always the most peaceful time in his day. They're able to have a moment to rest their brain, until his mom forces them to work or go to church.

The leaves are turning orange and brown, the ones on the ground crunch under Morgan's shoes. A nice breeze hits her back, her hair pushing against their shoulders. Her mom hates how their hair has grown so much, she wants it to be short and not girly, the way he has it now.

But nontheless, Morgan persisted with their hair, even going as far as to explain that he just wanted to look like Jesus, his hair was long, was it not? It shut down her arguments after that, but they still had to kneel in the closet for talking back.

Finally, his apartment can be seen, a big yawn escapes from their lips as they walk into the lobby. Miguel, her neighbor, gives them a small smile and wave, they weren't allowed to talk because of Morgan's mom, she didn't like their family. She smiles back, passing a small paper full of the notes from her English class. Miguel nods in apreciation, walking away to grab his back and put the notes away.

Morgan goes up the stairs, all the way to floor 4, and the second door to the left to make their way inside the small apartment.

"I'm home," Morgan says, expecting his mom to ask how his day was, did they pray before lunch, how much of that bible did they read during reading time in English- he decided to read Animal Farm instead, but they'd never admit to that.

Instead, what was heard was music playing from the kitchen, and the sound of a blender every so often. Going into the kitchen, Morgan sees her little sister, Rachel, making a smoothie out of fresh fruits.

"Hey sis, how're you doing," Morgan asks, moving around her to grab a strawberry from the bowl.

She smacks their hand away from it, "I've been fine, I'm making a strawberry and banana smoothie if you want some." She says, adding more milk into the blender before pressing the button again.

"Yeah, I'm game. Where's the demon if you don't mind me asking?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, grumbling the response, "She's out with the members again, said you gotta stay for the weekend."

A small nod from Morgan directs her attention to them, "Seriously, I think mom's getting suspicious of you constantly hanging out at this supposed 'Dylan's place. She wants you home, and if you don't I think you know the punishment."

"Of course I know the punishment ya brat, but the issue is that my nerve endings in my knees dont care about the weird rug in that closet. She's going to have to try harder to keep me here- you're 14, you can stay home alone." Morgan ruffles her hair as she walks away into the hallway to their shared bedroom.

When the door opens, a pleasant smell fills Morgan's nose, their sister had a collecting habit with candles, and because of Morgan's pyromantic tendencies, it just allows him to light the candles whenever they want.

She moves over to her side of the room, before collecting their bag already filled with the things he would need for the weekend. He walks out of the room, closing the door behind him so that the stench of cigarettes doesn't fill their room.

A door opens and slams shut. It's the front door, shit.

Quietly, Morgan throws the bag into the punishment closet before walking back into the kitchen. Their mom is right in the archway, small and fat, you can see the cigarette smoke stuck onto her clothes. How she birthed two beautiful children, the world may never know.

"Good afternoon," Morgan nods at her, going into the fridge for a water bottle. "I was planning on going on a run-"

"I know where you're going. I've heared everything from Greg and that (insert f slur here) of a son he has."

Both of the children's blood run cold. They've never gone too far, Dylan swears it's just a friends-with-benefits situation but... God what did he spill? Did he out them? Did he rat her out for going to Shivani's? Or was it about Rachel sneaking out to party? There's so much he could've spilled.

Silence pierces everyone's ears, until their mom continued. "You really didn't think I wouldn't find out that my son- the son I raised to be- my son would not only be a (f slur once again) himself but hang out with that... that devil family? You talk to the people I tell you to stay away from.. you have premarital relations you... you're a demon straight from Hell is what you are-"

She continues as Rachel and Morgan just look around. So he really did spill everything, huh. I wonder how much shit he's in...

With another spew of insults and prayers to Jesus above, she stops, the silence fills the room again, clicks from the clock seem so far away now.

"That's it, I've tried- I raised you to know the good of the bible, but even with it you've strayed too far into temptation..." With that, she grabs Morgan's hair and starts to pull him onto the floor. Rachel screams as they slam on the cold floor, a loud crack follows it.

Another yell- from Morgan? Rachel? They can't tell anymore, their ears are ringing, vision is blurring and splochy.

His mom's voice pierces through her confusion, "This is what he deserves! And don't think I'm done with you young lady and your (d slur) friends partying like the (f slur)'s you are!"

Morgan pushes at her hand, feeling their hair rip from her scalp as they push mom off of them. Another scream escapes somewhere, Morgan can feel his conciousness fade, until a smack right on their cheek shakes them awake.

"What the hell?" He shouts.

"Don't you raise your voice at me!" She screams back, smacking Morgan again, throwing her foot down onto their rib, a pain Morgan's never felt before shoots through their entire body.

Rachel's voice can definitley be heard from the neighbors, it would be surprising if the police aren't called at this point. Morgan can hear his mom try to shush Rachel, finally realizing the situation definitley would raise not just a few eyebrows.

Suddenly, his mom rushes at Rachel, throwing her onto the ground- her head hits the sink and she goes silent instantly.

Rage seethes around Morgan as their brain stops spinning, noticing the pool of blood start to grow from under the mop of what Rachel's hair has become.

A gasp is heard from his mom, and she kneels down to start to cradle her near her chest, before turning to Morgan and yells, "What have you done?"

Oh

No way she's pinning that shit on him, are you serious?

That rage hits his heart in a way that he's never felt before, heat starts to envelop it- his throat closes in a weird way as a stream of what feels like fire moves with their veins. And just as fast as it was thrown into him, it was literally thrown out- a stream of blue flames rushes from their elbow, around each finger individually, and pushes their way to her mom- the shock in her eyes felt great in Morgan, until her scream hits her ears.

The flames die down, turning into a light orange against their skin. The sound of flesh being scorched from her mom's skin- the screams-

"My eyes!" She starts, "I-I can't see- wh-why can't I see- you devil child- the antichrist!"

Morgan stands still, watching as her eyes melt from the eye sockets, her hands scratching at her cheeks until the skin falls, the flames from whatever Morgan grabbed from pushes deeper into her skin- the smell of flesh and hair starting to burn finally hits their nose- they have to do something- they... water- the sink- Rachel- that bitch-

Morgan moves back, trying to figure out a way they can help- if anyone sees her, they'll know the blame is on Morgan, she'll twist it to say that they started it, she was only protecting Rachel, and suddenly... Am I a demon?

where did the.. the fire! right- water-

Morgan’s mom moves, or at least tries to. Her legs shook as hot ash fell onto her thighs, shoulders starting to show fat instead of skin… was fat white before or after it’s burnt?

“My- my skin! I- Oh god-“ she starts to pray as her face starts to melt downwards, but only for a few more seconds until her body stopped, falling onto Rachel.

The alarms finally start, a bright light flashes onto Morgan’s eyes as he stays still- not moving another inch as they watch the blue flames expand onto the counter, the floor- Rachel- shit.

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, they don’t even remember how they got outside of the building- an officer tried to talk to her, she does remember how they’d lightly touch their shoulder, putting them onto an ambulance, and rubbing the back of their head.

Another moment with no memory, and Morgan was in the hospital, awake, the lights off- must be night- and an officer, a different one, sitting with a laptop next to the bed.

“Ah, it’s good to see you awake Morgan.” She starts, closing the laptop with a small smile. “My name is Amanda, I’m here to ask some questions about the fire that started two nights ago.”

Two? Has Morgan been out for that long? They look out the window next to them, noticing that it wasn’t night, just that the curtains covered the evening glow. Another glance shot a sharp pain to his brain, he groans.

“You have a concussion, a broken nose, and some light scarring on your back and knees. If I can ask, how did you get the lighter scars?” she starts, moving the chair to face his bed, moving her hand onto their lower thigh (close to the knee but not on it).

Morgan nods slightly, still looking out the window- I want Dylan… or Shivani… Maybe her dad has some extra gumbo…

“-Morgan?”

“Right…” he says, looking back to the officer, “Um…”

Her voice is comforting as she continues, “It’s alright, you can speak freely here.”

They nod, gaze going back to the window, “My…m-my mom wasn’t- uh… wasn’t the best caretaker.”

After a few more questions, the officer moves to sit at the foot of their bed. “Now, do you know what an elemental is?“

“A what?” She asks.

“An elemental, a person who’s able to control a certain element, we also call these people empowered humans.”

“So… like X-Men?”

A laugh escapes Amanda, she shakes her head and looks back at Morgan, “You have a touch of fire in your soul, it’s bright and orange with a twinge of purple. We would need to keep surveillance while you get your powers under your control. We will give you a full admission to an academy that specializes in empowered abilities, as well as regular college classes. so, what do ya say?”

[willddheartt]

26 Days | Wilbur Soot

30 days to fall in love with someone? Sounds easy right? It would be if that person wasn’t so unbelievably annoying in almost every sense.

You’re not sure how you found yourself in this situation, but you were positive there was no backing out now…

Series Warnings: Mostly fluff and angst, and a very poorly constructed enemies to lovers plot.

Word Count: 2264

Masterlist Series Masterlist

26 Days

God, you hated him so much! You wanted to scream it from the top of a building how much you truly hated Wilbur. But you couldn’t

Lately, no matter what you did or said on stream, he always had a problem with it. You had been streaming Minecraft together, on the SMP. You were just messing around, no lore this time. You suggested you made a house together in L’manburg, no matter what you did, the two of you couldn't agree on a material, you wanted to build it out of birch wood and cobblestone but he insisted on dark oak logs and spruce planks would look better together. You gave up and let him have what he wanted because he was so persistent and you knew had it gone on you would have blown up on him in front of all your viewers, and that’s the last thing you needed right now. 

You were up late, last night, planning out when you were going to meet up, and just a few hours ago the two of you got along perfectly. Laughing over the phone as you were laying in bed, chatting mindlessly. You wondered what happened between then and now.  You and Will planned to meet up in the middle of next week, you were going to drive down to see him and stay at his place. Although you brought up getting a hotel room, Wilbur insisted you stay with him, too tired to resist you agreed, but now you're starting to think maybe getting a hotel room might be for the best. 

You and Wilbur ended your streams at the same time, and you sighed as soon as you were sure it was off. 

“What?” Wil asked, still in the voice chat.  “What was that back there? Why the hell are you so disagreeable?” You let out.  Will scoffed, “Me? You’re the one who kept on insisting birch and cobble when that wouldn't even fit in L’manburg!”  “Jesus Christ,” You sighed, leaning back in your chair and running your hands down your face. “How in the hell are we going to get through this month?”  “Maybe you should stop being so uptight and argumentative.” Wil shot  “Fuck you,” You mumbled before clicking out of the chat and leaving your PC. 

You needed to get out of the house and away from any form of contact you had with Wilbur and social media. You had been cooped up inside your apartment for close to a week at this point, maybe some fresh air would do you good.  You grabbed a jacket and keys before leaving the apartment, leaving your phone charging on your desk. You didn’t want to bring it with you because you didn't even want to think about getting a text or any kind of notification from Wilbur right now, you knew you would have blown up at him completely. 

The weather was just beginning to turn nice, the air was warm but the wind still had a slight winter chill to it, although all the snow was long gone Jack Frost still made his lurking presence known.  Buildings lined the walls of a small square common area where teens mostly hung out after school and on weekends. The square had a fountain in the middle of it, the water had been shut off for the winter but with the warm temperatures from the last month, it had recently been turned back on.  You sat on the ledge of the brick wall around the bottom pool for the fountain, looking at everyone passing through on this nice Wednesday evening. Older couples out for an evening walk, middle-aged business people speed walking their way home from the office, teens scattering the open area, sitting on blankets and laughing in their small groups of friends. You found watching people be interesting, it made you think. 

We are all living our own lives at the same time and most of us on this small planet don't even know of one another, or if you know of them you don't know them, you only know their name. It's weird how that works.  It's astounding to think about though, what are the chances of meeting exactly who you did, at the time you did, and what a gamble it is for them to stick around. 

You had been sitting on the fountain for close to five minutes and when the wind had just started to pick up, sending a slight shiver down your spine.  Your mind was clearer now and you were no longer angry with Wilbur, it was stupid what you fought about and as much as it pained you to admit, he was right.  You were being stubborn and didn’t take into account the surrounding aesthetic of the area. It was your fault that the disagreement broke out in the first place. 

You got home and saw your phone had been basically blown up by notifications from Wilbur, asking if you were really mad at him or if it was for a bit that you took too far, but when you didn't answer he slightly snapped you, asking if you were okay and where you were.  You answered immediately, scared he might have been worrying.

Hey! You typed, Sorry I went for a walk after stream, needed to get out. 

There you are! He responded within seconds, I got worried. 

I’m okay, I left my  phone home, needed a break from the internet and things. You know? 

You mean you needed a break from me? 

You could have sworn, had you been on a video chat with him you would have seen him frowning. You weren't sure what about that message got you, but you found yourself almost with tears in your eyes, you didn't mean to hurt him and you hoped you didn't -what were you talking about. Wilbur didn't mean anything to you, he was just someone you kept in contact with because you were in the same friend group. 

No, you typed, not the whole thing at least. I just needed to clear my head, and i'm sorry for being such a dick on stream, I didn't mean to cause that, and you were right about the blocks. 

You sighed when hitting the send button, never in a million years did you think you would be telling Wilbur, The Wilbur Soot, that he was right about something. I’m sorry. 

Christ Y/N it’s alright, really. Just don't scare me like that again, I was starting to think something bad happened to you. 

I didn't mean to scare you, Wil. 

You found yourself feeling bad about leaving him in the dark while you were out, you didn't mean to worry him, you just didn't want to hurt him by blowing up at him. 

Still call tonight, yeah? He messaged 

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. Yeah, I'd like that very much. I'll call you before I go to sleep. 

In the time that you had been a fake couple, you and Will had started calling while you were getting ready to fall asleep in bed, you usually ended up falling asleep before he did, the sound of his raspy sleepy voice lulled you to sleep like there was no tomorrow. You'd wake up in the morning to find that Wil left the call going, you thought it was cute. Sure it might have been some highschool relationship stuff but it was cute nonetheless. 

-

“Hello, Y/N” Will said through the phone, his voice sounding tired and soft  “Hi Wil,” You smiled, giggling slightly. Although you had just been on a voice chat with him earlier you loved hearing his voice when he was tired, it sounded like stirring honey into your morning cup of tea, or reading an old book, but specifically an old book that smells of must and age of being stored at the back of your grandparents bookshelf that hadn't been touched in years.  “You sound tired,” you mumbled, laying down with the phone resting on your stomach as you looked up at the ceiling.  “I am,” He hummed, “You don't sound very tired though, did you drink a lot of coffee today?” He asked  “A little more than usual, but I’ll be fine.” You sighed, your voice almost coming out in a whisper. There was something about talking to Wilbur before going to sleep that made you feel soft and loved, but you couldn't put your finger on exactly what it was. Maybe it was the thought of having someone there, or maybe it was just as simple as it was Wilbur and it was you.  

“Are you excited for next week?” He asked  “Right now it feels too far away to be real,”  “Who’s talking here, is it you you or is it us you?” He asked, unsure if your thoughts were good or bad “Its both,” You said. “It feels so far away to me right now, but so close at the same time and a side of me cant wait for it to get here, so we can finally meet in person. But another side of me feels like it’s good that it feels so far away because maybe something will come up and I wont be able to make it and i don’t want to think that or even say it because thats a terrible thing to say but you know how it is.” You rambled, trying your best to explain it to him in a way that he would fully understand the crossroads your mind is at, and not sound like a dick while doing it. 

Although you couldn’t see it, you could tell he was nodding along. “How about we make a deal, alright?” He started, “In these night chats, we don’t have to put on the face of the characters we play on stream and through out the day, Alright?”  You rolled over to your side, putting an arm under your head and setting your phone on the mattress by your head. “I like that. Deal.”  “Okay now tell me how you really feel about all of this” 

All the thoughts ran though your head a mile a minute, you didn’t know where to start honestly, you had a lot of thoughts but if you really looked at it and narrowed it down most of them talked circles around the same thing just using different words. 

“You promise what ever I say wont hurt you or make you flip out?” You asked  “Swear on Tommy’s life.” You could sense the smirk that tugged at the side of his mouth when he said that. “Okay,” You started with a sigh. “So I din’t really know where I stand on it anymore, at the beginning I thought this was going to be insufferable, but now that we’ve gotten into it for a few days, you’re really not that bad, but I’m still on the fence.”  “I hope come meeting, your opinion has changed a little bit more. But I do understand where you’re coming from. Its weird being able to talk off stream and such with you and not be fighting twenty-four-seven. It’s nice, I feel like I’m getting to know you better.” 

He was right, you had told Wilbur more in the last five days than you had ever in your years of knowing him. You were surprised to find out that he’s actually not as bad as you thought, but you would never tell him that bit. 

“Do you have to put on a character when we do those streams and such, Wilbur?” You asked, 

“I don’t think I do, and if I do it I don’t know what I’m doing it. It’s just something thats easy to do, I’m not sure how to explain it.” He replied “Do you have to when we’re talking like this?”  “No. Not at all, this is 100% me.” 

You’re not sure what part hit you the most, when he said he didn’t have to put on a full character mask when showing your ‘relationship’ to the public, or if this Wilbur, the tired one was the real Wilbur who you've been falling asleep with for the past three nights. You weren’t sure what you though you wanted to hear when asking him that but it definitely wasn't what you go, but maybe it was what you needed. 

The line went dead for a couple of minutes, you had the radio playing softly in the background to help you sleep better, and Wilbur seemed to be enjoying listening to you breathe through the phone.

“Hey Wil,” You yawned  “HM?” He hummed, you could tell he had his eyes closed with the phone by his face, like he did on one of your face time calls the other day.  “I’m soon gonna pass-out,” You whispered  “Thats alright, go to sleep. Get your rest, I’ll be here when you wake up, love.” He was so sweet it almost made your heart hurt.  “Okay” You nodded, but don’t hang up, okay? I like it when you’re here with me when I fall asleep.” 

You struggled to keep your eyelids open, feeling heavy and light all at the same time. You felt so light it was as if you could float away but you were too heavy and weighed down to get up and move, even if you absolutely had to move for whatever reason you don't think you could have. 

“Goodnight Wilbur, love you.” You mumbled into your pillow  “Sweet dreams.” 

[ncturn-e]

❛❛ ¡cherry bomb! ❜❜

❛ el mañana ❜

✰ ‘verse

⤷ sɓuᴉɥꓕ ɹǝɓuɐɹʇS

♡ pairing

⤷ dr. alexei / laura garcía (oc)

☹ warnings

⤷ none

word count

⤷ 1,845

tags

⤷ @justice-for-dr-alexei

a/n: this is the shitty start to hopefully something lovely for a man who never received the love he deserved. lemme know if you would like to be tagged on updates to this story :)

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If there was one thing to be anticipated upon opening the bunker doors and lumbering inside, Laura knew the mean end of a shotgun was not the first on her list. Her first reaction was an ungodly squawk as she stumbled onto her backside, the guitar case clattering off her back and the bag of paints spilling onto the ground.

“Son of a bitch, Murray!” was her second, her anger rightly placed as she struggled to get to her feet while simultaneously gathering her strewn paraphernalia. Her hair was in massive disarray, and her tanned hands were splotched and smudged with still-drying paint.

“‘Knock before you walk’,” Murray seethed as he withdrew the shotgun, tugging on his beard in a sort of annoyed manner. “You know you're supposed to buzz the warning before sashaying in unannounced - you know that!”

“And I also know I'm the only other person besides you who knows how to get inside,” the Latina mumbled. The man slid to block her back before she could walk inside, and she produced a loud, tired huff. “It's been a long day, Murph. I just need a place to crash for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“If you would've buzzed before bursting in,” Murray stated, clearly tense as the short Latina tried to bob around him. “You'd know that I was a bit busy at the moment -”

“- busy fucking around with the Girl Scout at the door when there are more important things to -”

Laura cut off the unfamiliar voice, “Another human being! Murph, I thought I was your only connection to the world above, you minx!” She seized the opportunity to dart past the eccentric and his shotgun just as he opened his mouth to object. The girl skipped through the armoured doors and into the main room, halting in her steps to visually greet three brand new individuals with a weary-but-still-pleasant disposition. There was a short, bleary-eyed, and oddly expressive woman, an angry moustached wall of a guy who resembled a father at the end of his wit, and a very unsettled, dishevelled man curled up in one of the loveseats. Naturally, Laura was not at all surprised by the oddities of the company - after all, she was friends with Murray Bauman of all people - and she set down the case of her guitar with a smile.

“Of all places a nice girl would be, I would never have guessed the home of a paranoid hermit,” the first man grumbled, placing his face in his hands and rubbing at the weariness lining his expression. The woman beside him sent her elbow into his arm lightly, shooting Laura an apologetic look, though she didn't appear to disagree with his assessment.

While the first stocky slab of a man ran a thumb over his moustache with an utterly exasperated noise, the woman next to him quickly got to her feet, moving to attempt an awkward introduction as she began to consolidate a clutter of wrappers and fast-good carnage together on the coffee table. The third man, likely younger than the other two, was staring at the newcomer through his glasses, wearing an aura of newly introduced confusion.

As Murray came bumbling back into the room, he seized Laura by the shoulders and attempted to steer her back towards the front door. She wriggled free with a wince, and, after casting another quick look at the trio around the table, quipped, “You never have company. Either you're doing something illegal, or convening to stop something illegal illegally.”

“How about Russian translations and a wild goose chase?” Murray muttered, massaging his forehead before nodding in the vague direction of the younger man. “This is Dr. Alexei, our very own foreign menace, graced by the company of Officer Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers.” He added in a tired tone, “Ne bespokoysya Ona bezvredna,” waving his hand. The young man, Alexei, loosened his shoulders slightly, still eyeing the little Latina with both wariness and interest.

“Okay. So, Jim -”

“Hopper,” the first man grunted.

“Oh - okay, Hopper. Joyce. Alexei.” Laura recited each name. “Neat. Anyone want something to drink?”

“You're not - Laura, I swear to Christ - can you at least stay in the other room?” Murray spoke exasperatedly, trying and failing to guide her out of the area.

Laura feigned offence. “You haven't even offered your guests a drink besides that crap Burger King calls edible?” she scoffed as Murray threw his hands into the air. She looked at the doctor, saying with playful sympathy, “I'll bet he didn't even get you water.”

“Apparently a strawberry Slurpee was worse than water,” Hopper growled before Joyce yanked at his arm as if to say ‘shut up, you big oaf.’

“He said strawberry was fine now!” the woman protested, but he waved her off. They then descended into what was most definitely a lover’s quarrel before Murray made a loud and obnoxious shhing noise through his teeth.

“Shut. Up.”

The others complied, except Laura, of course.

“So, what is going on here?” she queried, picking at a spot of dry paint on her knuckles. She moved to hoist her guitar case over to leave against the nearest wall, still observing the others.

There was a beat of silence, puckered by an annoyed whine from Murray before Joyce began to speak up. “Are you from Hawkins?”

Laura shook her head. “No. I'm just two towns over. Read what happened last year, though - that's some crazy stuff -” She cut herself off. “Byers. Byers - you're the woman who found her son two years ago! Er, what was his name -”

“Will.” Joyce showed a soft smile. Murray seemed to have given up on trying to reign in the conversation and had gone rooting through the kitchen, presumably for alcohol.

“Yeah! I'm glad you found him,” Laura went on with a shrug before perching herself on the armrest of one of the empty seats. When she caught the man called Alexei watching her with friendly intent, she shot him a grin before turning back to Joyce. “How's he doing these days?”

“Good - well, better!” Joyce answered, the smile remaining on her features before she was interrupted by an unintelligible grumble from Hopper. “Oh, what is it now? Do you need a Slurpee now? You big - baby - man.”

“Just saying,” the policeman said slowly, tone wavering with restrained irritation. “Not solving the Russian situation with small talk.”

“Russians? So they've finally broken through our defences?” Laura sounded only half facetiously.

Hopper gestured halfheartedly to Alexei. “Ask Smirnoff over here. He's the one with a big-ass base under the goddamn mall.”

Laura creased her brows, turning back to Alexei and repeating, “Base?”

“He can't understand you,” Joyce piped up, just as Murray came strolling in with a glass of what was probably whiskey.

“Doesn't know a lick of English,” Murray confirmed tiredly before falling back into the seat adjacent to the Latina. “I'm the nearest local translator, apparently,” he added with a gallon of absolutely sarcastic glee before tossing the whiskey down his throat. He winced before smiling way too widely.

Laura outed a small ‘ooooh’ as tucked a curl of hair behind her ear, looking at the scientist apologetically. Jamming a thumb into her chest, she made a clear introduction by saying, “Laura.” The Soviet repeated it slowly, thick and hesitant from his tongue. The grin that lit up her features sent a blossom of red spiralling into the young man’s face.

“Alrighty then. Since everyone knows my name now, why don't you all get me caught up on what the hell is happening?”

She humorously took the gurgling sounds of malcontent from Murray’s glass as an affirmative.

»»»

When all was said and done, it was an understatement to say Laura was baffled, if not utterly blown away by the massive import of information that had just been funnelled into her brain, all in a little less than an hour. However, visibly to Murray’s amusement, the presumed couple - who made it a point to announce that they were, in fact, not involved - went off into another minor argument before Murray had cordoned them off into another room.

Laura had taken it upon herself to sit on the floor beside the coffee table and sort out grocery baggie of paints, attempting to clean her hands off in the midst. “Russians have invaded America, and they chose to do so in the ass-end of nowhere. That was clever on their part, I will admit,” the woman mused over the muffled shouts coming from the other room. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, watching Murray come out of the kitchen and situate himself next to the Russian scientist on the sofa across from Laura. ”And he really doesn't understand English?” she requested confirmation, gently nodding her head at Alexei.

”Not a word.”

”Ah,” she murmured, drumming her paint-stained fingers along her leg. She sounded disappointed.

Alexei appeared to notice this, sitting up a smidge as he looked between Murray and Laura, eventually mumbling something to the other man with raised brows. Murray shook his head and replied, pausing in the middle before finishing with the babbling syllables, “Yedinstvennyye drugiye yazyki kotoryye ona znayet eto ispanskaya i umnaya zadnitsa.”

When Laura looked at him expectantly, Murray rolled his eyes and translated, “I told him you only speak English, Spanish, and Smartass.”

The Latina held up a very special finger. Murray chortled tiredly, muttering, “Yeah, you too, Lottie.”

After a reprieve, looked up again and asked slowly, “Do you, ah - do you think I could talk to him? Through you, I mean -”

Before she could even finish, Murray was out of his chair and fleeing to the kitchen for what was presumably more alcohol. “No, no, no, no, don't get me started. No. You already never shut your mouth as it is.”

Laura raised her hands in defence. “Jesus, Murph … I just want to talk to the guy. And I think you owe me for putting your thing in my face.” A pause, then through a sly grin, “Me pregunto cómo reaminará la Mamá cuando escucha cómo trataste a tus invitados.”

Murray gripped his glass with white knuckles and resignation, staring down the young woman - plus Alexei, who had no idea what was going on - before leaving the room, only to return with an armful of paper and a few dull pencils. “Comprise. Knock yourself out with a round of Pictionary first. I'll ‘repay’ you by being a translator tomorrow. Deal?”

Laura clicked her tongue and scrambled over to fetch the supplies, responding with a coy, “Es un acuerdo,” before watching Murray dramatically excuse himself. Looking over to the confused Russian, she smiled, scooting closer to his seat as his eyes followed her movements curiously. He opened his mouth to ask a question but shut it after remembering only one person in the bunker understood him. His brows furrowed, and he sat back with a faint little huff until Laura edged up next to him. He appeared a bit confused by her smile. Nevertheless, she raised a pencil and said anyways, “Let's play some Pictionary, comrade.”