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stygianflood · 3 years

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Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain

A/N: nor’westers- violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…’

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one.

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious.

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes.

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens.

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days.

Almost as a ritual.

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie.

He mustn’t be that aware.

But she talks too much.

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms.

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly.

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they.

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade.

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along.

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her.

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it.

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts.

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers.

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it.

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So… just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why.

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business.

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers.

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave.

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him.

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye.

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades.

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself.

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close.

‘You should.’

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her.

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer.

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones.

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone.

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it.

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all.

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery.

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it.

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering.

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

#open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #choices monthly challenge #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #openheartfanfics #choicesaprilchallenge2021 #cac2021

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years

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Delicate. — Part 2.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Part 2, let’s gooo. as always, feedback is very much appreciated! Let me know what you think or what you would like to see next. thank you for reading!

catch up here!

"Stupid cheesecake recipe."

"Over baking wasn't exactly on the recipe, J."

"Oh, shut up. Yours is dry as fuck."

Y/n opened her mouth, pretending to be offended. The pair was currently having a little baking competition that clearly went wrong since none of them can bake. Now, Y/n was pretty good at cooking in general, but for some reason baking just wasn't her thing. And obviously, it wasn't Jensen's thing either.

"I hope you clean this mess after you're done." The truth was, Louise wasn't surprised by the mess her children had made and didn't mind it either. The age difference between both of them was big, so growing up there wasn't much they could do to bond. Right now, however, they were so much closer than they were before, and Jensen and Y/n had more things in common and more options of activities they could do together, like baking.

Even if they were bad at it.

"I invited Harry and Sarah tonight. They're having dinner with us." Louise spoke again, grabbing a rag and starting to wipe off the flour on the kitchen island.

"Who's Sarah?" Y/n asked, cleaning the flour on her left cheek. She tried to ignore the growing butterflies in her stomach at the mention of Harry. She'd be lying if she said she hasn't thought about him since their last encounter, even went as far as trying to look for him on the internet but she got nothing. But the mention of another woman made her feel confused. Was he married or something? Don't blame her, the guy wears a lot of rings.

"The owner of that cat café I took you to the other day. She's great, don't worry."

Jensen nudged her playfully, and she rolled her eyes in return. "I'll take a shower." She announced before marching out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her old room. She wanted to clean herself up before Harry arrived, although she didn't know why. Looking through the clothes she kept at her mother's house, she settled in a plain, long blue dress with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't want to look overdressed but also didn't want to just wear a pair of sweatpants like she's been wearing all afternoon.

"Do you remember when mom tried to set me up with that girl who worked at the restaurant on the other side of town?" Jensen entered the room without knocking, running his fingers through his hair. He was also fresh out of the shower.

"Madison?" Jensen hummed in response. "She was nice. Why did you stop going out with her?"

"Because mom only did it because she thought I was lonely.?"

"What's your point?" She looked at him after grabbing a hairbrush from the vanity.

"That she's doing the same now with Harry? Duh."

"Woah, I've met the man once. And I've tried going out with people she sets me up with, and we never click."

Y/n tried to play it cool when she heard the gates open, busying herself with whatever as the doorbell rang and Louise hurried towards the door. Harry and a gorgeous brunette stepped into the house, smiling widely at the middle-aged woman.

"Come on in! I'm so glad you could make it."

"You have a lovely home, Louise." Harry's deep voice along with that accent of his sent shivers down Y/n's spine. She had a weak spot for British people and she didn't know why.

"I'm sorry Mitch couldn't make it." The woman beside Harry said.

"Oh, it's okay. There's always next time."

The three of them walked into the living room where everyone else was sitting. Jensen stood up and high-fived Harry before giving Sarah a side hug. A smirk appeared on Harry's face as Y/n came into his view. "Hello again, love."

"Hi, Harry." Y/n returned his little salute. "Azaleas are doing great, by the way." She jokingly said.

"Knew you would keep them alive." He gave her a little wink before giving her a quick hug.

Sarah introduced herself and Y/n did the same, accepting her hand to shake. Y/n had to admit, she was really pretty. Along with her brown hair, she had a pair of blue eyes and an inviting smile. If Harry was really dating Sarah, then he was a lucky man.

Throughout the dinner, Y/n didn't say much. She'd occasionally steal little glazes at Harry and admired how gorgeous he looked tonight. It was funny, Y/n had this feeling in her tummy every time she's seen him, which by the way has only been twice, and she grew nervous out of nowhere. It was almost like she was too shy to speak to him, which was weird considering she was a pro at holding conversations as she's been trained to do so. Sometimes she'd stare for too long and Harry would notice and smile her way. Y/n felt like a teenager with a highschool crush. She tried to convince herself she didn't like him that way and she was just taken back at how pretty he was.

Dinner was over and Harry insisted on helping with the dishes despite Louise's protests. So now it was just Y/n and Harry in the kitchen putting everything in the dishwasher while sipping on white wine.

"How can you put ice on it?" Harry asked, nodding at her glass filled with wine and ice. "When the ice melts it just tastes like water."

"I like it really cold but I don't like keeping the bottles in the freezer." She explained, taking a sip from her glass. "So how do you know Sarah?"

"She was the first friend I made when I came here. She's also British so we became fast friends. Plus, he's dating my best friend and co-worker."

"Oh." She said, processing the information. Perhaps that Mitch guy Sarah mentioned was her boyfriend and not Harry. Suddenly, she felt a wave of relief but then again, why?

"Can I say something without sounding creepy?"

"S-sure?"

"My sister is a massive fan of yours. When we still lived with my mum, you were all she listened to."

"I'm sorry." She joked and he breathed a laugh. "Well, tell her I say hi, please."

"Will do."

"So..." She dragged the word. "You knew who I was?"

"Obviously I don't live under a rock." He rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm just not invested in that whole world as other people, you know? I don't even own an Instagram account or anything." Harry shrugged.

So that's why she couldn't find him anywhere, she thought. A feeling of excitement ran through her veins. Harry knew who she was, but he didn't care. Being treated like a normal person was a luxury Y/n didn't have anymore, so it was safe to say she felt happy knowing he'd treat her like one.

They finished the task in silence, but Y/n couldn't contain the little smile forming on her face and honestly, Harry couldn't either.

She was curious about him. What was he doing in her hometown if he was from the other side of the world? What did he do in his free time? Where did he get so many cool rings? Did he always want to be a florist? Why was he a florist? She had a million questions she wanted to ask, feeling genuinely intrigued by him. Harry could easily come off as an intimidating man, but what she has noticed from him was completely different.

Harry was shy, incredibly so. But he was also cheeky, and silly and had a boyish smile that he could change into an intense look in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. His green eyes were always shiny, like stars in a black sky. He also appeared to be always happy, although she couldn't be certain on that one.

The things she was feeling right now were things she's never experienced before and that was both exciting and terrifying.

"I never trust a narcissist." Y/n tasted the new lyrics she's been thinking about with a random melody on the piano. She sat in front of the instrument in her living room and this time she didn't have to squeeze her brain for one decent melody, because this time she was able to come up with one smoothly.

Pandora was casually laying down on the floor close to Y/n while Lizzie was chilling around the house as she didn't like the sound of the piano that much. This was one of those nights when inspiration came to Y/n from nowhere, having to drag herself out of the comfiness of her bed before she forgot what her brain had come up with. She continued adding lyrics, making sure her phone was still recording everything she was doing.

It had been a few days since she's seen her family or had any kind of human interaction and now that she was thinking about it, she kind of missed it. Now, she loved her family to pieces and would do absolutely anything for them but she missed her friends, her real friends who were thousands of miles away from her right now. She was craving that more than anything right now and that's probably why she found herself in front of The Blossom House the morning after, debating whether or not entering the shop.

Deciding to suck it up, she opened the door of the building and stepped in, feeling the overwhelming smell of flowers hit her nostrils immediately. There were a few people in the shop, a young boy buying a bouquet of red roses and two middle-aged women that looked like they came together. Y/n tried to go unnoticed as she stepped deeper into the store. The truth was, she didn't know what she was doing there. She didn't need more flowers, that's for sure.

She looked through her sunglasses a bouquet of daisies her mother would absolutely die for, so she decided to grab it for her.

"Oop, sorry. That one's not done yet." Someone said from behind. She turned around and saw a man with long hair tied in a low bun and a mustache on his face. "It's a commission, actually. But I can make another one for you."

"Oh, it's fine. I'll just pick something else." She gave him a polite smile. The name on the tag read Mitch, so he must be Sarah's boyfriend. "Uh... weird question but, is Harry around?"

"Yeah, he's in the back. Want me to get him for you?" He offered but she declined.

"It's okay. Thank you." Giving him one last smile she walked away to the other side of the room, this time looking at the roses. The white ones were her favorites and she loved looking at them.

"Hey, stranger." Taking advantage of the fact he couldn't see her, she smiled widely at the sound of his voice. "Fancy seeing you here." As soon as she turned around she saw the goofy dimpled smile on his face.

"Likewise, do you work here by any means?" She smirked as he giggled, deciding to play along.

"Darling, I own the place."

"An entrepreneur, oh my god." She pretended to fan herself with the palm of her hand and Harry let out a big laugh.

"What brings you here? More flowers?" Something tells her he knew she wasn't here for the flowers, and it was true, as much as she wanted to tell herself she wanted a new bouquet for her mom. In reality, she wanted to see him. "Has something caught your eye so far?"

"There was this bouquet of daisies but a man told me it was for a commission?" Her words came off more like a question.

"Oh, yes. Mitch's been working on that for a few hours now. I can tell him to make you one like that if you want. Could be done in a couple of hours."

"That would be great. I could swing by in a while to get it."

"Orrrrr, we could wait for it over a cup of coffee?"

She observed him for a while and how the dimples never disappeared from his face as he waited for her answer. He seemed confident and she really liked that. "Sounds fun." She shrugged before a smile appeared on her face, matching his.

"Let me tell Mitch and we'll go." He said before rushing to the back of the store and returning shortly after without his apron. "Would you prefer to go to Sarah's? Because there's this one, half block away that serves good coffee."

"Let's try that one." Honestly, she'd walk whatever blocks if that meant they'd spend more time together. "As much as I loved going to Sarah's, seeing all those kittens at once makes me cry."

"I feel the same. I always take my mum there when she comes to visit, last time she came she adopted one." He mentioned. A car passed at low speed, making Y/n nervous. She tried to cover her face as much as she could with her hair and fixing her sunglasses. "Is everything okay?" Harry asked, noticing her change of behavior.

"Uh? Oh, yes. I thought someone was watching from that car." She said in a low voice. What happened next, she would've never expected. Harry pushed her gently to the other side of the sidewalk, changing places with her so his much taller frame would cover hers.

She blushed, looking up at him but he acted like it wasn't a big deal, like it was a natural thing to do although they didn't even know each other that well. She thought he'd tell her she was being paranoid or something but instead, he chose to do something he thought would make her feel more at ease. And it worked.

Harry held the door open for her when they arrived, guiding her to a table away from the windows and pulled out the chair for her to sit, being an absolute gentleman with her. And although Y/n insisted, Harry went for their coffees and paid for them as well, saying he was the one who invited her hence he'd be the one who pays.

Once they were settled with their own cups of coffee, they started talking. Mostly about Harry, Y/n still didn't feel comfortable enough to talk about herself and he understood so he let her ask him anything she desired.

"Do you go to England often?"

"Not as much as I'd like to. I try to go during summer and for the holidays, of course. Although for birthdays and such, I'm not always able to fly there."

"You must miss your family a lot." From what she's gathered about him, he was a family guy, so being away from his must be tough. She knew it was for her.

"I do. But I also love it here."

"Do you see yourself going back?"

"To London? Probably not. I have gotten used to being in the states so if I ever move back there full time I'd feel out of place."

She nodded along, listening to him carefully. Harry had a beautiful voice and he spoke slowly so it made it even more soothing than it already was. She swore this man could read her a bedtime story and she'd be out in the first minutes.

They talked for some more and bought another cup of coffee for the walk back to the flower shop. They were having a great time, and although they wouldn't say it out loud, none of them wanted it to end. So it was safe to say they both felt a little sad once they arrived at The Blossom House.

"Let me get the bouquet for you." Harry told her after they entered. He came back with a replica of the bouquet of daisies she saw earlier and she smiled. "It's on the house, tell Louise I say hi."

"You don't have to gift me flowers every time I come, you know that right?" She chuckled but grabbed the bouquet regardless.

"I know I don't have to but who says I don't want to?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, grinning at her.

"Thank you, Harry. For the coffee and the flowers."

"You're very welcome. I, uh, I had a great time today." He said, blushing a little.

"Me too."

"Do you think we could do it again some other time?" He asked hesitantly.

"I'd love to, honestly." Y/n admitted, starting to blush as well.

"So can I have your number or I'd have to wait until you come again?" He asked teasingly. "Swear I'll not sell it on e-bay."

"Can you even sell a telephone number on e-bay?" She asked, laughing as she took her phone out of her bag, handing it to him. "Feel free to text yourself so you could have mine too."

"I'll use it wisely, I promise."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps not only for coffee but for a nice dinner."

Yeah, she definitely hoped he'd do that.

Tag list: @reverse-hxlland @cronias13

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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In the Arms of the Anus

Fandom: Spider-Man, Thor Pairing: Roger Harrington/Grandmaster Rating: T Word Count: 8883

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @spiderman-homecomeme!!!

Summary: While people all over the world are finding their soulmates, Roger Harrington can barely find time to grab a sandwich. Clumsy, anxious, and stagnating in a mediocre marriage, it's a miracle that he still believes in love.

Today's the day the universe rewards that belief.

Three things about Roger Harrington: he’d just tripped on the sidewalk, he worried daily that he was developing a bald spot, and, at the age of 36, he felt he still believed in love as strongly as did the little girl in his building who’d made all the residents Valentine’s Day cards the year before.

The cards—which Roger had found endearing while his wife had been baffled to the point of annoyance—had been wedged into everyone’s mailbox sometime on the afternoon of last May 19th, and maybe that was why he thought of them today, exactly a year later.

It was helpful, he found, to consider love in markers of time passing, or just numbers. The anniversary of those Valentine’s cards would always be 271 days early, leap year or not. Roger had been married twice, longer the second time. He had zero children, and that was alright with him because he wasn’t totally sure that he did want kids and, anyway, he was too profoundly stressed about the welfare of the teenagers he taught at Midtown to comfortably imagine himself as a fulltime parent.

His wife was cool. Significantly cooler than he was. She drove out of the city to hike every other weekend (he had never joined her and hoped to never be called upon for woodsy companionship), had once performed an emergency tracheotomy on a friend at a dinner party, and had a tattoo on her hip that predated their relationship, which made it consequently, eternally, enigmatic, no matter how many times she told the objectively trite story of its acquisition. Also, she was a casual shoplifter, which made him very, very nervous in a way that he found difficult to differentiate from how he felt when he was turned on.

He was the kind of person who consistently forgot to take his glasses off before stepping into the shower. She was the kind of person who would run into and recognize a famous race car driver at Whole Foods (that had happened) or fake her own death (that had not happened—knock on wood!). Essentially, what and who his second wife was was the natural successor to his first wife (the reckless young bride to his insomniac young groom), who had in turn been the natural successor to the only other romantic encounter of his life worth mentioning: a kiss on the cheek at a birthday party on the day the Berlin Wall fell. Roger had been seven.

So his romantic history was speckled and, in two out of three cases, spoke a little too loudly of a need for legally-recognized codependence. So he didn’t feel like a man anyone would ever get a tattoo in honour of. So his wife had been a little unkind in the long pause before her negative when he’d asked her if she thought he was getting a bald spot. Roger still felt that love was going to happen for him. Hopefully sustained in his current marriage, but if not, there was always what Julius Dell had taken to (highly unscientifically) calling the Love Wave.

If Roger decided to be really delusional, he could pretend that the Love Wave was to blame for his stumble over uneven concrete on his way to grab lunch. That he was finally feeling its cosmic tug. Not that he would be the last to sense it—the inexplicable force that had lately begun guiding people the world over to their new partners—but every day that he didn’t, he feared his wife would feel it first and go careening out of their life together in a Thelma and Louise-style launch that somehow left her intact and him feeling like he’d plummeted to his death at the bottom of a canyon. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he imagined feeling that impulse to go to this destined soulmate and pictured it leading him home. Not in some metaphorical way, but literally home, to the apartment he shared with his wife, to find her arriving at the same time, the two of them matched up, the universe endorsing their marriage.

The reality was that he was a man with clumsy feet (and knees and elbows) who’d forgotten to pack himself a lunch and had just enough self-awareness (though probably not dignity) not to believe that eating in the cafeteria with his students was something he would be able to socially recover from.

He thought about a poorly-cut-out pink heart glued to a fold of red craft paper. He went to buy a sandwich.

At the deli, Roger waited in line and didn’t so much allow his mind to wander—like a dog off-leash in a dog park—as feel his mind jerk insistently away—like a dog on-leash, trying to snap a dropped slice of pizza off the sidewalk. He was violently not present as his thoughts migrated from Valentine’s Day cards to lesson plans to the anxiety he always felt over the fact of never seeming to have enough power to go with the tremendous sense of responsibility he felt for all situations in which he was even remotely involved. He would have, should have, continued to shuffle vacantly forward in line, except that the man ahead of him grumbled something that drew his focus.

What he grumbled was: “Even the Sorcerer Supreme should be able to spare a minute to decide what kind of sandwich he wants.”

Now, Roger Harrington was a man of science, but he was also a man who had previously enjoyed a close friendship with the Hulk (and if anyone challenged him on specific parameters within that assertion, Roger knew that he would cry). Aliens swarmed the sky like clouds of bees. There were compilation videos of Spider-Man nearly getting hit by city buses that could’ve been designed expressly to see how hard Roger could flinch. For a clumsy man with the unathletic, knock-kneed gait of Pippi Longstocking, Roger did his best to roll with the supernatural punches. Hey, this was how science worked too: just because there wasn’t a precedent yet didn’t mean there never would be. Just because he couldn’t explain something didn’t mean no one could. Sorcerers? Alright. There could be sorcerers.

“Sorcerers?” Roger blurted to the man, overeager to expel the word.

All other words had fled to the back of his mind, twitching in an agitated cluster, leaving just the one to be snatched frantically from the surface. Like fishing. (Roger had never been fishing. One of his greatest fears was having a live fish somehow jump into his shoe and stepping on it by accident.)

“Uhhh,” the man droned. He looked uneasy. If Roger knew how to make his eyes a little less wide in situations like these, he would’ve done it.

“No, yeah, sorcerers, sure,” Roger swiftly backpedaled. “I’m a teacher.”

As if being a teacher equaled knowledge of sorcerers. As if that were a normal unit of the high school curriculum. Roger’s understanding of sorcerers began and ended with Mickey Mouse in a blue wizard’s hat. He wondered if that was sort of the standard look.

The man did not appear reassured. Roger thrust his hand forward.

“Roger Harrington, Midtown Tech.”

Face still wary, his deli companion shook hands.

“Wong.”

“So, this sorcerer of yours didn’t pick a sandwich?” The line shuffled forward and, now in reach of the long glass case of food, Roger attempted to lean his elbow casually against it, misjudged the distance, and jerked back upright again before he could fall over.

“No… You heard that part too?”

“If I could hear the part about the sorcerer, why wouldn’t I be able to hear the rest?”

“I think most people would’ve been so fixated on the sorcerer thing that they wouldn’t really absorb the part about the sandwich.”

“Just got sandwiches on the brain, I guess,” Roger said.

God, if Wong knew a sorcerer, odds were that he was a sorcerer too. (Roger based this on being a teacher with almost exclusively teacher friends and acquaintances.) He was making it sound like he cared more about sandwiches, he knew he was. He stared silently at Wong for a few painful seconds and wondered if the man could tell that he had worked for a sandwich shop as a teenager—the role of wearing a full-body sandwich costume and standing on the sidewalk, trying to attract people into the shop.

But Wong surprised him by nodding.

“You could get one of everything,” Roger heard himself suggest.

He was not typically one to make suggestions, but rather one to panic when other people did and he was in the position of having to choose between them. He could never decide on a restaurant for he and his wife’s now few-and-far-between date nights, or provide straightforward feedback when she asked for his opinion on her clothing choices… which movie they should see… what they should buy for her friend’s sister’s housewarming gift...

Oh god, she was probably going to fake her own death and his biggest anxiety was knowing that someone would ask him to choose the casket!

“I have like…” Wong jingled his pockets and extracted a fistful of coins that, when he opened his hand, Roger saw belonged to several different currencies. “…six bucks.”

Like a mirror with a delay, Roger patted his own pockets to locate his wallet. He flipped it open to reveal something promising and terrifying: he’d forgotten to return the school credit card after the last field trip he’d chaperoned. He shouldn’t, but… sorcerer.

“I think this’ll cover it,” Roger said. “It’s for emergency expenses.”

“Like lunch?” Wong asked doubtfully.

“I could be very hungry.”

“They sell seventeen different types of sandwiches here.”

“I could be very, very hungry.”

Wong shrugged in evident acquiescence and Roger marvelled that it was so simple for him to accept this act of generosity. Roger couldn’t recall the last time someone had been as generous towards him. Wait, yes he could. The Valentine’s Day card. Well, handing over a credit card that wasn’t technically his didn’t exactly equate to presenting his ticket at the Love Wave gates (not that there were such things—not that he’d know), but he was hoping to trade this generosity up for a different magical experience in the near future.

When they reached the front of the line for service, Roger ordered a total of eighteen sandwiches. (And received an undisguised groan of complaint from the people still in line behind himself and Wong.) While they waited, Roger buzzed like the posterchild for over-caffeination, doing his best not to let his excitement translate into erratic movements.

Of course, once the sandwiches were presented and paid for, it only made sense for Roger to help Wong carry them all. His own ham-and-Swiss was stuffed into one of the three bags and they were all bulging, threatening to spill. If one of them ripped on Wong’s journey back to wherever he had to take them, who would be there to gather the sandwiches into their arms so that Wong wouldn’t have to leave them on the ground? Roger was clearly the best (only) person for the job.

And if they talked on the way? That would be natural. If Wong stared at him with abrupt, unyielding suspicion the instant Roger attempted to negotiate a visit with this ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ in exchange for buying his lunch? Yeah. Yeah that suspicion would be fair.

“Not for my sake!” Roger defended as Wong blinked back at him. “For the kids!”

“The Sorcerer Supreme isn’t a birthday party magician.”

“No, I would never imply that! These are bright kids. They’d be there to learn, respectfully. They’ve had their own traumatic encounter with Spider-Man already so there wouldn’t be any clambering to meet another person with superhuman powers!”

“What did Spider-Man do to traumatize them?”

Wong looked interested now, in an entertained sort of way. Meanwhile, Roger was having a flashback of his life flashing before his eyes inside the Washington Monument.

“Actually, he saved us,” Roger explained. “That’s not the point. It would be purely educational. You and the Sorcerer Supreme would call the shots. As long as it wasn’t anything dangerous.”

“Dangerous? We would never put children at risk!”

Roger was about to clarify that he hadn’t meant to imply that they would when he realized Wong seemed to be taking this as a reason to prove himself, or to make the other sorcerer prove what he’d just said.

“I would hope not,” Roger said carefully, “because not all of the children I’ve taken on field trips have come back alive and that haunts me.”

“Well, what haunts me is everything I’ve seen and learned from in order to become someone who could now guarantee a safe field trip environment.”

“Well, that would be great.”

“Well, good,” Wong concluded.

Roger looked down at the bag he was holding as he dug out his sandwich. His wrist twisted and he caught the time on his watch. Oh wow, oh no, his lunch break was almost over.

“Ok, deal,” he said quickly. “We’ll come by next Tuesday!”

“I’ll be out here to let you in!” Wong agreed with a parting wave.

Roger took off running in the direction of Midtown and when that got too awful, he wheezed like an asthmatic and waited at the closest bus stop.

—

Roger had expected Principal Morita to say there was no room in their budget for this trip. That they were nearing the end of the school year, that parents and guardians would be reluctant to sign another form for an excursion that Roger could only give a vague, stammering explanation of. At the very least, he’d anticipated the journey via school bus in lurching, stop-and-start traffic to take so long that the kids would revolt; Flash Thompson would lead the complaints that they could’ve walked to their destination faster than the ride took and Roger would feel the primal horror of a confrontation with a self-possessed teenager who wielded the kind of peer influence Roger could only have dreamed of when he’d been Flash’s age.

But no.

Highly improbably (Roger didn’t like to consider it miraculous), things went smoothly. The trip cleared the budget assessment on zero notice because, besides renting the single bus to transport the students, their outing didn’t actually have any costs. Permission slips came back signed. Traffic was light. And dear, dear Flash—who usually gave Roger so much anxiety—slapped the hand Roger raised to shield his eyes from the sun as his students disembarked from the bus, rewarding him with a surprise high-five for getting them out of the classroom on a Tuesday afternoon. It almost knocked Roger’s glasses off.

They were ushered inside by Wong, who was now laying the mystical solemnity on pretty thick. He certainly wasn’t talking about sandwiches or complaining about the Supreme Sorcerer under his breath.

Before Roger could feel too good about himself though, he realized he’d had time to run through his headcount of the students three times without interruption. Normally, something would happen partway through his first count and he’d be uneasy for the rest of the day, sure that one of the kids had fallen down a manhole or been stampeded by a dog-walker’s unruly canine swarm. The universe shoved teenagers into the path of bike couriers with one hand and paired up soulmates with the other. That was just how things went! However, inside this house (or, no, Sanctum, Wong had called it), the air was still and quiet.

“Do you think he’s gonna make himself appear out of thin air?” Roger heard Ned ask at a whisper. “Or out of a wardrobe, or a trapdoor, or one of those boxes people get in to get sawed in half?”

“Those are cheap tricks,” Wong said loudly. He stared unsympathetically at Roger’s motley group, hand closed around his opposite wrist to maintain a serious pose. “The man you’ll be meeting shortly has capabilities that far outstrip those of the kind of magician-for-hire you’d find in a phonebook.”

From behind him, Roger heard Peter ask Ned what a phonebook was.

“What kind of capabilities then?” Flash demanded.

Roger sighed and was turning to reprimand his student when Wong said, “Like this!”

The man faked a sneeze of horrific volume and range, doubling over and cupping his hand around his mouth and nose. When he straightened up and presented his open palm, there was a raspberry sitting in it.

Roger closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and his teaching career played on a fast-forwarded film reel behind his lids. The Sorcerer Supreme was a no-show; all Roger had accomplished was taking the kids to a weird building to witness a man pretend to sneeze out a raspberry. Midtown Tech was going to fire him. His wife would recognize his unemployment as a reason to leave him. Depressingly, Roger was thinking about how that would almost be a relief—an end to his incessant worrying that they were really kind of a mismatch—and he was thinking it while he blankly watched Wong eat the raspberry he’d just feigned dislodging from his nasal cavity.

He was really unprepared for a different man to come sweeping down the stairs, motion with his hand, and have a red sheet come whizzing down after him to settle itself on his shoulders. Roger blinked. He heard the mixed noises of fright and appreciation from his students.

Then Flash piped up with, “That’s just a trick. It’s wires or something.”

Roger backed into the cluster of his charges and, without taking his eyes off the obvious Magical Guy in front of him, reached over and placed his hand across Flash’s mouth.

Unfortunately, his censorship seemed to be too late. The Sorcerer’s narrowed eyes zoned in on Flash.

“Oh yeah? How ’bout this? Is this just a trick?”

Fingers splayed, the man moved his hands in a precise, practiced way and a window opened up in the middle of the room. No, not a window, but Roger was having a tough time wrapping his head around it. What this non-window showed was something that wasn’t the room, that wasn’t a view of the street, that wasn’t anyplace in New York, if he had to guess.

“You can’t just do it like that,” Wong said wearily. Roger felt himself and his students look from one of the men to the other as though watching a tennis match. “There should be a little more finesse.”

“Look,” the Sorcerer told him. “You don’t get to spring this on me and then expect me to ham it up for the kids. This isn’t a David Blaine show.”

“Maybe you should watch one. You might learn something about showmanship.”

“So, it’s fake, right?” Flash checked.

Dammit, Roger had dropped his hand, distracted as he tried to make out what he was seeing through what he was becoming increasingly comfortable with calling a ‘magic portal’ in his thoughts. He scrambled to take hold of Flash’s shoulder—yanking him back would be bad, but dealing with the fallout of him pissing off somebody who could make magic portals would be much worse—but Flash dodged him, swaggering forward to inspect the Sorcerer’s work.

“What is it? Mirrors? Greenscreen? You buy your tech from Stark?”

“Stark?” the Sorcerer spat out derisively.

Overcome with the terrible feeling that he was about to find out what it looked like when a wizard put a curse on a child, Roger sprang forward. As he did, three things happened: the Sorcerer rotated his wrist slightly, the scene on the other side of the portal changed, and Flash turned to the side.

Without a student to grab onto and pull to safety, Roger’s momentum sent him hurtling through the gateway currently connecting Midtown to parts unknown.

Of all the times to trip, he thought.

—

The world was bright and fast and bad. Actually, Roger was almost positive that what he was seeing wasn’t the world at all, but he couldn’t put a name to where he was any more than he could think of better adjectives to describe it. Unless the Sorcerer Supreme owned a magical slip ’n’ slide that operated at speeds designed to train prospective astronauts for space travel, Roger was no longer in his building.

The colour of the tunnel of light surrounding him turned from something like the intestinal track of a unicorn who ate lightning and nebulas to a dangerous, broiling red. Roger kept waiting for his skin to bubble, his face to melt off. Maybe he was the fabled frog in the pot of boiling water and had failed to notice the heat steadily increasing. Because he didn’t feel hot. He couldn’t tell whether or not he felt cold either and before he could work it out, he finally landed.

It was rough.

He curled his arms up around his head, protecting his face. He hit and tumbled, hit and tumbled, banging his shins and elbows, setting off a series of metallic clangs and thwumps like his body was playing drums made of the contents of somebody’s recycling bin. Roger could see—once, shaking, he was able to lower his arms and open his eyes—that his imagination hadn’t been far from the mark: he was lying in a heap of trash.

Trembling like a baby deer, he got to his feet and assessed his surroundings. There were piles everywhere. Piles of stuff. Roger could identify some of the battered objects, but most were utterly alien to him. This was like the time he’d found his wife’s sex toys all over again.

“Hello?” he called out, because he seemed to be alone. “Hel—”

His throat closed off abruptly when he swiveled in place and noticed the sky. His mouth fell open. Was that what he had just come through? That furious-looking, billowing, volcanic, enormous… disturbance? Weather pattern? Entrance to hell, if hell were a mountain of trash?

Oh man. Where was Spider-Man this time? Roger didn’t know which would come first, but if something distinctly reassuring didn’t happen in the next 30 seconds, he was going to either burst into tears or pee his pants. His cool wife was going to be so bummed to have to declare him dead instead of faking her own death. And his students would be traumatized, having just witnessed their teacher disappear before their eyes. He spent a frantic 17 of his 30 seconds wondering if this were Jumanji and he’d started a game without realizing it; being sucked into a board game was another of his greatest fears, ever since he’d watched the chilling horror film Jumanji in his teens.

“Hello?” Roger croaked a final time.

Some other scientist—a Tony Stark type—would thrive in this scenario, Roger knew. They would scavenge the surrounding mounds of metal, collecting and assembling pieces into some sort of technology that would either get them home or enable communication with a rescue team. Would there be a rescue team for Roger Harrington? Would anyone even try to get him back?

The cry/pee conundrum was looking more like cry with each passing second until suddenly, amongst the broken things Roger was aggrieved to consider the lone sentinels of his demise, some kind of spacecraft touched down. Based on his recent luck, whoever was at the helm was likely here to kill him, but he immediately elected to throw himself on their mercy, whether that meant rescue or just a swifter snuffing out of his life than he would otherwise experience on this sad island of garbage as he died from dehydration, starvation, and exposure to that infernal gateway in the sky.

He mouthed the word “help” more than said it as he staggered forward on legs he could hardly feel. A door in the side of the spacecraft slid smoothly open and party music blared out. Roger flinched back as though he had not heard the sounds of civilization in years.

A woman exited the craft. She wore an expression about as kind as the murderous upside-down mushroom cloud in the sky and when their eyes met, she barked, “Back!”

Roger executed an awkward reverse lunge, pleading hands raised. Ok, now that his time had come, he didn’t want a quick death. Put out of his misery? No, he would learn to live with his misery, the way he’d learned to live with his college roommates, or his wife’s collection of handmade bowls! With food and water to sustain him, he was suddenly confident that he could be successfully miserable for years if this intimidating woman would just leave him to his own pathetic devices.

But then, like a visitation from a tan, eye-liner-wearing angel of indeterminate age, a man in gold robes emerged from the vessel. He beamed like he had always been beaming, and always would be.

Just like that, Roger Harrington got it. He got what Hot Chocolate meant when they sang that they believed in miracles. He got the meaning of Kylie Jenner’s year of realizing stuff. He got why a child would send out Valentine’s Day cards in May and why his wife was so dedicated to her hiking group and why he was here.

“Now, what did I say about that before we left?” the angel seemed to be asking his companion, though he’d locked his eyes on Roger. “Did I say to harass our visitor or did I say to be nice?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Roger, which he felt more than saw; it was possible that he was crying after all. Tears of joy.

“Harass,” she answered flatly.

The angel chuckled.

“You know, I do like having you around. Before you, I said to myself, ‘Next time, get an enforcer with a sense of humour.’” He sighed as his laughter dwindled. “But you can, uh, skedaddle back onto the ship now. That’ll be all.”

“What if you want to melt him?” she queried.

That was enough to tear Roger’s gaze away from the man and send it zipping nervously to the threatening almost-smile the woman was now directing his way. He’d preferred the murder face.

“Melt him!” the angel said, in a tone that implied her suggestion had been ridiculous. (Roger relaxed. A little.) “Topaz, don’t you realize who this is? Don’t you know?”

She shrugged.

“Trash.”

“No, he’s not trash! Do you think I would’ve left the Grand Arena to retrieve a new gladiator by hand? All those Scrappers don’t do my bidding just so I can dig through the garbage looking for fresh challengers for my champion! I wouldn’t even assign Scrapper 142 this task, and you know she’s my favourite!”

When the woman only grumbled, the man pressed, “You have an unbelievable poker face. Do you really not know why I flew all the way out here for this guy?”

“I’m his soulmate,” Roger blurted, because that was the one thing he did know.

He had no idea what a Scrapper was, or whether the man in front of him was more or less important than the ‘champion’ he’d mentioned, or how his homicidal sidekick planned to melt Roger, but he understood what was happening here. Forget the Love Wave—what had come for him had yanked him violently across solar systems, maybe galaxies. He’d been sucked under by the Love Riptide.

The angel pointed at him and proudly proclaimed, “Correctamundo!”

Then he strode forward and folded Roger into a hug. Roger thought this must be what it was like to be a piece of antique furniture, tenderly wrapped in gold leaf.

“I’m the Grandmaster,” he said.

“Roger Harrington,” Roger offered, feeling that his life was entirely surreal as he cautiously returned the hug.

“As soon as I felt you land on my humble little planet here, I came looking. My orgy guests were disappointed, naturally, but I had to put my interests first. What was I, elected? If they wanted a leader who would pretend to care about everyone equally, they should have organized themselves into a viable political party capable of rivalling my dictatorship, am I right?” He drew back slightly and laughed. “You should see your face! I’m kidding. I would’ve had anyone involved in such a thing put to death. Don’t you worry, Hairball.”

Roger cleared his throat. He’d learned so much in the last few sentences alone. Death. Dictator. Orgy. Any one of those things was a lot to confront and yet… he was calmed by the Grandmaster’s presence. He was alive and unmelted. He’d managed to find his soulmate—a man he’d been almost certain to never meet as things stood with Earth’s individually-impressive but cosmically-insignificant progress with space travel. At long last, the universe had smiled on Roger Harrington.

“Just Roger is good,” he said. If last names ever came up again, he would tactfully correct his soulmate, but with a name like ‘the Grandmaster,’ he doubted they ever would.

“Roger. Anything you say.” Gripping Roger’s shoulders, the Grandmaster leaned in and planted a sound kiss on his forehead with a loud, “Mmmwah!”

He asked Roger if he would like to go aboard his ship, apologizing that it wasn’t the one where he’d just been having the orgy and appearing to check Roger’s face for disappointment. Roger didn’t know what the Grandmaster saw in his expression, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Inside the spaceship, Roger looked around with huge eyes. He hadn’t felt this kind of wonder in a room jammed with so much beyond his understanding since the first time his mom had taken him to the New York Hall of Science as a kid. Everything was bright and white and immaculately clean, and Roger could concentrate on all of it because the Grandmaster had Topaz drop the volume of his party playlist until it was just a low pulse of background noise. Seemingly amused by his awe, the Grandmaster allowed him a peek at the controls before gently herding him into a chamber with seating arranged for socializing. A pneumatic hiss sealed them safely inside and away from the woman’s scowl.

“I really just wanna sit here and, uh, just look atcha, but that look on your face tells me you’ve got about a million questions.”

The Grandmaster settled back into the bench seating, resting his long arms along the top of the seat. Across from him, Roger fidgeted, experiencing sensory overload. Soulmate. Spaceship. Alien planet. He found it hard to decide what to ask first. Was that even polite? Was the Grandmaster just saying that Roger could ask questions when he really wanted Roger to say or do something else? There was an awfully flirtatious look in his eye, the likes of which Roger hadn’t seen directed towards himself in several years.

“What is this place?” Roger asked before he could stop himself. “Where am I?”

“Oh! This is Sakaar! Are you saying you didn’t come here on purpose? I figured you weren’t aiming for a pile of trash, but you really didn’t know where you were going at all?”

Roger shook his head so hard that he had to nudge his slipping glasses back up his nose.

“It was an accident. I fell through a wizard’s—uh, I mean, a sorcerer’s—magic portal. That kind of clumsiness must sound pretty farfetched to someone who’s so obviously…” Roger motioned spastically towards his soulmate, the dictator, with both hands. “…in control of their life.”

The Grandmaster laughed, transparently pleased and preening.

“Oh, Roger, you flatter me.”

He stretched out his leg to playfully tap his shoe (gold) against Roger’s (plain, brown, frayed shoelace). Roger jumped, giddy from an alteration in sea level, possibly, plus life-changing events.

“But it really isn’t so uncommon for people, beings, things… to end up here without meaning to,” the Grandmaster went on. “A lot of junk passes through the Anus. Not that you’re junk, obviously.”

With a winning smile, Roger’s soulmate leaned forward and patted him on the knee. He was a touchy-feely guy, it seemed, and it made Roger cognizant of how very lonely he’d been in his marriage, in the last year especially. How skittish around strangers, how unaffectionate with his friends. This was what he needed, and the universe had understood that.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up with what his soulmate had said, distracted by the comfort he was taking in his easy warmth.

“The Anus?” Roger asked in a choked voice.

“The Devil’s Anus, to be exact. That enormous, horrifying wormhole out there in the sky!” the Grandmaster explained, gleeful. “Best I can guess, it acts as a funnel for accidental travelers, like yourself. And boy, are we ever grateful for that thing. I’ve never had to post any ‘Help Wanted’ flyers, I’ll tell ya that. We need more people serving drinks? Boom. More entertainers? Boom. More lubricators for the orgies? Boom, the Anus provides, baby.”

Roger didn’t inquire what the duties of a person with the job title ‘orgy lubricator’ entailed; it seemed sleazily self-explanatory. He just nodded.

“And now,” his perfect, golden match continued, “the portal brings me my soulmate. I love that thing. It’s really somethin’, huh?”

“It’s really something,” Roger agreed. “Really, really something.”

“You’re looking just a little stunned there, Rodge. Can I offer you something to eat? A drink? I promise, I’m usually a much better host. I feel like I’m positively, uh, bumbling right now.” He beamed.

This man was so many things at once—possibly too many—but bumbling was so far from being one of them that Roger actually laughed weaky in his state of happy, semi-delirium. He accepted the cold glass that was pressed into his hand, the brush of the Grandmaster’s warm palm across his forehead. He had moved to sit right next to Roger.

“You can get used to this place at your own pace, within reason.” His soulmate chuckled. “Heck, we can stay right here a day or two. My plans are cancelled, and when I stop, the world stops. That’s how it is, being the Grandmaster, and that’s how it’s gonna be for you too. You can give all your worries a big, wet kiss goodbye, my love. You’re living a life of luxury now. A court of sycophants, fights to the death in the evening, orgies on a lazy afternoon. I’m talkin’ a life of pure class—”

“Class!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I said.” The Grandmaster was wearing a languid smile as he traced the back of his fingers along Roger’s jaw.

But Roger was suddenly too alert to be lulled by welcome caresses and delicious, exotic beverages.

“I was teaching a class before I fell through the portal,” he said. “I’m a teacher. My students are probably terrified. Some of them might be messed up for life after watching me disappear right in front of them. What have I done…”

“So you gave them a cool story to tell their friends! You don’t need to think about that anymore. Now that you’re living here—”

“I can’t live here!” Roger said, seizing the Grandmaster’s hands in his as he tried desperately to explain. “I have responsibilities as an educator! Jesus Christ, I’m married!”

“Roger. Rodge. Rodge. Hey,” his soulmate said, finally disrupting Roger’s spiral of panic. “That’s all in the past. Do you know how many creatures from just, uh, every darn corner of the universe I’ve made slaughter each other for my entertainment? Thousands, Roger, ok? Thousands. And it’s taught me oodles about life. What I’ve learned is that love is the only thing that matters. What all of those poor bastards scream for in the end is their mom, their partner, their best friend. Now, that doesn’t help them, but it helps us. It helps us understand that we’ve done it—we’ve achieved the one thing in our lives that was worth a damn to achieve. I’m not gonna, gonna now be parted from you, sweetheart. You are the point of me.”

Roger felt himself growing teary at the speech. Yes, this had been a whirlwind—they’d met no more than 15 minutes ago—but he was feeling something just as deep as the love the Grandmaster described. It was a fantasy in the best way, the life his soulmate pictured for them (most of it… maybe not the part about slaughter). But it was a fantasy in the worst way too, something so impossible that Roger felt sick for getting as attached to this man as he already had.

“I can’t,” he said softly. He let his head hang down, solaced when the Grandmaster guided it onto his shoulder and wrapped a protective arm around him.

“Can’t you? For me? Roger, if I put you on a ship and send you back through the Anus, we may never meet again.”

Roger squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be selfish, but there were people he couldn’t leave in the lurch. People who maybe didn’t care about him in a way that was equal to how he cared about them, but that was how any kind of relationship was, apart from soulmates. There were imbalances. He knew he might not be the most brilliant scientist, the most inspirational teacher, the husband a woman would prefer over the outdoorsy hunk in her hiking group, but he knew who he was: he was someone who couldn’t just walk away.

“We’ll be together again,” Roger said, clutching the Grandmaster’s robes. “After.”

Though he didn’t yet know what ‘after’ would mean.

—

It wasn’t as unexpected as it could have been—Roger had always had a feeling he’d die on a school bus.

The difference between his fears and reality was that he wasn’t departing this world in a fiery crash or zooming out of control between the steel trusses and into the East River. There was confusion, there was chaos, there were screams and the violent honking of horns, but there were elements he couldn’t have predicted. Primarily, the giant alien spacecraft hovering over the city. The ship immediately moved into first place of the most ominous rings in his life (he and his wife were not in a good place). Since its sighting, things had quickly spiraled out of control. Julius had radioed Roger from the other bus of students they were chaperoning to MoMA to report that Ned Leeds had ‘flipped his shit’ and Peter Parker was currently missing. Roger had nearly passed out. The only thing that had kept him conscious was his jittery concern for the rest of his students.

At Midtown Tech, they had drills for almost every eventuality. As of 2012, hostile outer space invasion was actually part of their repertoire, but it had always been assumed they would be at school when it happened, not out on a field trip. The most Roger had been able to think to do was get the kids to a secure location. Which meant getting the buses to a secure location. But the buses were on the bridge, and all over the bridge drivers were panicking, mindlessly stomping on the gas and attempting to swerve around the rest of the vehicles. Above the blood rushing in his ears, he’d heard crash after crash, until their bus was hemmed in and, through the smoking, crumpled hoods of their fellow commuters, the alien ship hung stationary in the sky. Disturbingly tranquil as New York City went to pieces to the tune of apocalyptic dissonance just below.

In the end, the spaceship hadn’t stayed put, but Roger had. The lanes around them were crowded with smashed cars. Glass from shattered windshields glittered on the pavement. Still, more vehicles surged forward as drivers attempted to use the bridge to flee the city; this wasn’t NYC’s first alien rodeo. He hadn’t attempted to force any of his students to remain on the bus—they were some of the smartest and the best of their generation, and he trusted their survival instincts far more than his own—but he did direct the ones who fled to first climb up onto the roof of the bus instead of dropping directly down onto the street and risking injury. Yes, he worried about minor cuts and bruises. Even now.

He thought that Flash was staying with him, and was touched. But then he realized Flash was just gripping his shoulder for leverage as he jumped and grabbed for the emergency roof hatch with his free hand. Roger knew the boy was somewhat neglected by his parents, and so, for the first time, he was happy go hear ‘Hotline Bling.’ It was Flash’s ringtone and it played incessantly as his phone rang and rang until the song, and the sound of Flash running, faded into the distance. Somebody wanted to see that he was safe. Somebody cared about him.

Alone, Roger hunkered down between the seats, knees bent in front of him. He scraped one hand anxiously through his hair and gripped his phone in the other.

He should call his wife. He knew he should. Only, he was afraid that she either wouldn’t pick up or she’d answer and be with the guy from her hiking group. Roger wasn’t even upset; he was glad she had someone, if this was it.

Ever since he’d returned from Sakaar, he’d been different, he was aware that he had. In the past, his wife had been largely responsible for the sundering of their marriage, but Roger knew that he was now pulling away too. It had begun inside him—the tear. He wanted to be with two people for two different reasons. In two places, on two worlds. Commitment clashed with longing. Logical rightness fought emotional rightness. He’d been weak, persuading himself daily to tough it out with his wife (even as he slept on the couch every night because lying beside her made him unhappy), when, for once in his damn life, he wanted to be fulfilled. Somewhere out in the stars, there was a man with blue eyeliner and an entire planet at his capricious command and he was the person for Roger.

If only, he thought, picturing the face he shouldn’t have been able to recall so clearly for the brevity of their encounter months ago. Roger shut his eyes to better remember the Grandmaster, and so he wouldn’t have to see his phone clatter to the bus’s dirty floor when the hand that held it turned to dust.

—

As with his life on regular, non-apocalypse days, not much happened to Roger. Despite his paralyzing breakdown on a school bus, he wasn’t among the billions scattered to the wind like sentient dandruff. He picked himself up and went home. Sure, he was shivering almost out of his skin from the shock, but he didn’t collapse into wracking, snotty sobs until he was safely in his living room, listening to his neighbours’ wails through the condo’s walls.

Roger’s wife wasn’t there, didn’t answer when he called her, and, three weeks later, still hadn’t made contact. It took another two months to hold her wake; the funeral business was booming. Never had so many words been spoken over so many vacant graves. Some members of his wife’s hiking group attended, some had even helped him select the right music and flowers beforehand. They knew her preferences. It felt surreal to be burying a person he couldn’t prove—in any meaningful way—that he’d really known.

With a queasy sense of being very lucky, he accepted that, apart from his marital status, his life hadn’t been upended. His windows weren’t broken, his car wasn’t stolen, the few family members he was out of touch with anyway had also survived. He went back to work before anybody called him in. There weren’t any students at first, just the echo of Roger’s clumsy footsteps tripping over the rug in the staffroom, half-solved equations on the whiteboards in the math classrooms, and the unholy stench of unwashed pinnies when he poked his head into the gym storage room to see if Coach Wilson was around. One day, Roger tipped back in the chair at the front of his own empty classroom and spotted a gigantic cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. It made him think of Spider-Man. He guessed that guy was gone too.

The most important thing for keeping sane was establishing a regimen. Work was a big part of that, but Roger also traveled daily into Manhattan to visit the Sorcerer’s place. It became a kind of pilgrimage. Early on, Wong would come out to say hello, but it was eventually less about commiseration and more of a perfunctory thing. Roger knew (assumed, hoped) that if the Sorcerer ever did return, Wong would let him know and welcome him inside. And then… a portal? And then the Grandmaster? He tried not to think about it too hard. Yearning took up a lot of energy and, when his students began to come back to school in distressingly low numbers, Roger needed to reserve that energy for teaching.

Everything was the same, every day, until it wasn’t.

For a reason he couldn’t rationally explain, Roger knocked on the Sorcerer’s door. While he was waiting—just a few seconds, he planned—a man materialized on the sidewalk right next to him. He tottered and Roger reflexively said, “Whoa!” and grabbed his shoulder to keep him on his feet. Before Roger could hypothesize or ask the man any questions, a teenage girl returned to existence a few feet away. Then a woman holding a toddler tightly in her arms. A little boy. A man with a dog. A bicycle-less bike cop, still wearing his helmet. Releasing the man, Roger spun and pounded against the door with his fist.

Still, no one answered.

Fighting the urge to show up at Midtown Tech, Roger made himself stay put, right there on the Sorcerer’s doorstep.

He waited a long time. As the sun set, New York City rose around him. He watched people hugging, running home down the middle of the street. He fielded unfinished questions as the newly returned began to ask him what had happened, what time it was, what year, before jogging away, more purposeful with every step they took. Roger’s foot began to bounce on the sidewalk and his clammy hands twisted fretfully. It was still another 12 hours before the door opened.

Roger fell backwards into Wong’s shins, delirious from the sickening seesaw between urgency and exhaustion. Everywhere, people were reconnecting. He scrambled to his feet because he wanted to be one of them.

“Is he here?” Roger demanded.

Wong narrowed his eyes slightly, holding the door so it couldn’t be pushed open further.

“Might I remind you that it’s me you’ve been seeing here the last five years.”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed, trying to see past.

“I thought we had developed a rapport.”

Finally, Roger met Wong’s eyes, his own pleading.

“No, yes, you’re right, we have,” he babbled.

“We’re friends.”

“Yes, of course, we are friends. Definitely.”

“So when is my birthday?”

Roger’s mouth hung open as he searched his brain for a piece of information he knew wasn’t in there. A few seconds later, Wong turned mirthful.

“Did you spend the Blip hiding under a rock where there are no jokes? Come inside. We just got back.”

None of the thousands of times he’d come to the door mattered—Roger hadn’t been inside the Sanctum since that first time. He hoped the Sorcerer remembered him.

When he saw the man, Roger’s steps stuttered. The Sorcerer appeared grim and wiped out. He was dirty and he looked older, though Wong whispered to Roger that the Sorcerer had been among the Snapped. Roger understood that, for something to go right and bring everyone back to life, something else had gone wrong. He could dwell on that and awkwardly bow his way back out of there, or he could convince himself that things had gone wrong for him too, and that he’d like them to be righted. He remembered that his soulmate was a dictator and tried to channel that sense of entitlement.

“What do you know about the Anus?”

The Sorcerer blinked.

“What.” The word came out perfectly flat.

“The Anus.”

“I wasn’t that kind of doctor.”

Roger strode eagerly towards him, hands gesturing before his words caught up.

“When I was here about, um, five and a half years ago, I fell through your magic portal—”

The Sorcerer snapped his fingers in recognition and turned to Wong.

“Oh, that’s who this is. I always wondered what happened to that guy.” He looked at Roger again. “How did you get back to Earth?”

Roger hadn’t been prepared to answer this question, just make his demands, and he began to explain what had happened to him, all out of order. The words ‘orgy ship’ had barely left his mouth when the Sorcerer was waving him into silence. His expression told Roger he was sorry he’d asked.

“So you went through the portal…” he prompted instead.

“That’s right! And for a while, I was just falling. I don’t know where I was.”

The Sorcerer stroked his chin.

“The connection must’ve been unstable. I know—one of your students distracted me.”

“That’d be Flash,” Roger said.

“Jesus. This is why I prefer not to be a field trip destination. Normally, the portal would allow you to pass cleanly through one place and into another.”

“And instead he passed cleanly through the Anus,” Wong summarized.

“…Yeah.”

Roger glanced from one man to the other.

“So,” he said, “could you do it again?”

The Sorcerer stared at him.

“The short answer is no. The long answer is also no, but it contains a great deal of vernacular to do with the Mystic Arts, so I’ll save us both some time.”

The last time Roger had defended his intellect and qualifications had been years ago, and he was out of practice. Anyway, he didn’t want a lengthy debate.

“Can’t you just open a portal and shove me through?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a lot going on today. I’ve only entertained you this long because you and Wong seem to be friends. I’m not just going to mess around to humour you.”

“What if you had to do it?” Roger asked quickly, beginning to feel desperate and preparing to metaphorically jam one of his clumsy feet into the closing window of opportunity.

“Uh, let me think about that,” the Sorcerer droned disinterestedly. “No.”

“What if I attacked you and you opened a portal in self-defence?”

The Sorcerer squinted at him in disbelief and befuddlement.

“What?”

But Roger was already gracelessly throwing his weight into a wild, uncoordinated punch.

For once, he didn’t think critically of himself; he told himself that the Sorcerer’s portal sparked up between them because he was intimidated by Roger’s tenacity. And that it didn’t show a clear destination because the Sorcerer’s reaction speed was no match for Roger using the element of surprise. And that he dove purposely through the portal—on a mission for love and science and the unknown—instead of tumbling into it sideways because the momentum of his unpracticed punch had gotten the better of his balance. It didn’t matter. His feet went out from under him and he was on his way.

Roger had forgotten how intense the trip was, but he completely recalled the rough landing, bouncing down through a stack of the universe’s lost garbage. He shut his eyes to the whooshing and the brightness and braced himself (probably too early, but he didn’t think he could be too careful on this reckless endeavor).

He felt his body hit open air and gasped as he fell, trying to keep his limbs tucked in. The hat he’d been wearing was torn from his head. Didn’t matter; it wouldn’t have offered much protection anyway. At any moment, his poor elbows and knees would be battered by space junk. Between his velocity and his fear of the coming impact, Roger could hardly breathe.

Music. A familiar voice singing, It’s my soulmate! made his eyes fly open. Right in time to land on his back. Whatever was beneath Roger was soft, but he’d still had the wind knocked out of him and was struggling to fill his lungs. His eyes clamped shut as he began to cough.

“I have no idea how you survived that thing twice, but I sure am glad I caught ya.”

Finally sucking in a stronger breath, Roger opened his eyes and looked up. His glasses were askew. Above him was the opening in the ceiling of a hovering spacecraft, but closer than that, leaning over him, was the face of the Grandmaster. He was beaming.

“Any trouble with the Anus?” he asked.

Roger grabbed for the hand his soulmate had rested on his shoulder and moved it to his chest, right over his heart.

“The asshole who got me here will probably be thrilled to never see me again, but the Anus treated me just fine.”

“Ha!” the Grandmaster barked. His free hand lovingly patted Roger’s windblown hair back into place. “Welcome home.”

#my writing #MCU #spider-man #thor: ragnarok #Roger Harrington #En Dwi Gast (the Grandmaster)#their ship name is Mr. Master and they're what G deserves on her birthday

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morbidmotive · 3 years

Text

I've had the beginnings of an Animaniacs/Bob's Burgers crossover fic sitting in my docs for a LONG time, but I'm not sure if I should pursue it, so I'm posting the first two chapters under the cut so that I can if it's something anyone would read or not. (Keep in mind these are still only rough drafts)

Chapter 1

Inside the Warner Bros. water tower, Wakko and Dot were literally bouncing off the walls with excitement. Dr. Scratchansniff was going to New Jersey for a big counselling conference, ‘Council Con’, and he’d agreed to let the Warners come along if -and only if- they behaved themselves. The three siblings promised to be on their best behavior and so far - with the exception of typical excited child-like behavior - they had held up their end of the bargain.

“And we’ll be able to see above the clouds!”

“And we’ll get those little packets of pretzels!”

“And they’ll have those little trays that fold into the chair in front of you!”

“And our ears will get plugged from the air pressure and then they’ll pop when we land!”

“And we’ll get to stay in a hotel!”

Yakko sighed as he listened to his siblings excitedly jabber on about their plane ride the next morning. He couldn’t blame them for being excited, he was excited too - this was their first vacation, but he had gotten his excitement out in the weeks prior, and now he was focused on making sure the three of them were ready for the next day as his younger siblings rattled on and on and on about all of the things they'd get to experience during their first vacation. After an hour, their list hadn't made it past the plane ride, let alone the rest of the trip.

“Are you two all packed?” he interrupted, putting the last few items into his suitcase.

“Yes!” his siblings confirmed before going back to their excited chatter. Satisfied, Yakko zipped up his suitcase and wheeled it over next to Wakko’s and Dot’s luggage.

With a satisfactory nod at everything being prepared, he walked over to his siblings. “Okay, sibs, we should probably go to bed.”

"What?" Wakko whined in disappointment. He then ran to the tower door and threw it open. “But it's still light out!"

“Besides, we aren’t even tired yet! We’re way too excited to go to sleep now!” Dot agreed. “Please can we stay up?” Dot asked, clasping her hands together and giving her oldest brother her best puppy eyes. Wakko joined in too; between the two of them, Yakko was sure to give in! “Pleeeeeeaaaaaaase!?” they begged in unison as they slid onto their knees.

Yakko smirked. “Nice try you two, but it isn’t going to work. With as early as we need to get up tomorrow, I’m not going to want to try and drag you both out of bed and get you dressed in the morning.” As expected, he was met with two exasperated groans. “Think of it this way, sibs; would you rather spend the first day of our first vacation too tired to do anything, or, ahhhh, do you want to spend it having some fun?” Wakko and Dot were silent for a moment, but then begrudgingly agreed that Yakko was right. “Of course I am, that's why I'm the oldest," Yakko said with a triumphant smile. He took his sibling’s hands and pulled them to their feet before ushering them to the bedroom. “I know we’re all excited now, but we’ll be even more excited when we get there tomorrow.”

When they entered the bedroom the three siblings got changed for bed. Dot crawled into her bed as Yakko finished buttoning his pajama shirt. He then turned to Wakko, who was buttoning his pajama shirt very slowly.

Yakko sighed. "Wakko, hurry up."

The younger Warner brother groaned dramatically but did as he was told. Once he was done and had crawled into his hammock, Yakko turned off the light and collapsed into his ball-pit, seeking sleep.

They had a long day ahead of them.

Chapter 2

“And… GO!” Gene yelled, and he lifted the plank of wood that kept the crabs they were racing behind the starting line. The crabs began to scuttle down the racetrack they had drawn in the sand as the siblings cheered for them. Gene’s crab was taking the lead with Tina’s close behind, and Louise’s crab was trailing behind in last place.

“Come on, come on, I have a race to win!” Louise yelled, and her siblings followed in cheering for their crabs as well.

For a moment it looked as though Gene’s crab was going to win, but it then stopped and turned around before heading back to the starting line.

“No, Crabatha Christie, you’re going the wrong way!”

“Come on, Jennifer Crabniston, you’ve got this!”

“Pick up the pace, Pablo Escrabar, you’re so close!”

The three continued to cheer on their crabs as they scuttled in different directions, and in the end, Tina’s crab was the winner.

“Yes!” Tina exclaimed, “I win! I believe you two losers owe me five bucks.”

With groans of disappointment, Louise and Gene handed over the money.

“How dare you betray me like this, Crabatha Christie!” Gene said, looking over at his crab. “Aw, who am I kidding, I still love ya, girl.”

“Well I don’t.” Louise said, glaring at her own crab, “This is why you got caught, Pablo, THIS IS WHY YOU GOT CAUGHT!”

They watched as the crabs began to walk back to the ocean. “Well, there they go, back to their home," Tina said. "Speaking of which, we should probably head home too, it’s almost time for the dinner rush.”

“Oh yeah, Tina, it's such a rush.” Louise said sarcastically.

“I mean, you never know, stranger things have happened.”

"For four seasons," Gene said.

Louise just groaned. "Fine, let’s go pretend to help mom and dad give Teddy his burger for the night."

…….

The Belcher kids walked into the restaurant and were surprised to see there were several customers inside, almost at full capacity. Their mom smiled over at them.

“Hey, you three!” She greeted excitedly. “So, who won the big race?”

“As a matter of fact, it was me.” Tina said with a proud smile.

“Aw, my little winner!” Linda said happily. Louise grumbled something about her crab losing on purpose to spite her.

Bob peaked through the serving window. “Hey kids, get washed up, it's time for the dinner rush and this time it actually is a rush.”

The kids walked to the back and washed their hands, and Tina grabbed her apron.

“What are all these people doing here, dad?” Tina asked.

“Isn't it great?” Bob asked excitedly, “Some people got food poisoning at Jimmy Pesto’s, so everyone came here instead. I mean, it's bad that someone got sick, but good that we get his customers.”

“That's the spirit, dad.” Louise said, heading out to the dining area.

“And don’t forget, we’re catering that psychiatry conference thing this weekend, you’ll need to be on your best behaviour. All three of you.” He then looked at his youngest child. “Especially you, Louise.”

“So does that mean that if we don’t behave we don’t have to go?”

“No, you’re definitely going.” Bob said, and went back to grilling the burgers.

Louise groaned. “Fine.”

“Who knows, Louise, it could be fun.” Tina said, trying to cheer up her younger sister. Louise scoffed.

“Yeah, Tina, I'm sure it’ll be sooo much fun.”

“It could be.” Gene said, walking out of the employee bathroom in his burger costume. “Maybe we’ll meet someone interesting and learn something; like how I just learned that I look even better in this burger suit with my pants off!”

“Gene put your pants back on!” Bob scolded.

“No!”

“Besides, all those psychiatrists under one roof? Oh, I bet it’ll be like an episode of Frasier!”

“I love that show.” said a customer who was sitting in the booth next to Linda, and the two of them got into a deep conversation about the show while the kids were forced to go back to work.

#animaniacs #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #yakko wakko and dot #bob burgers #tina belcher #gene belcher #louise belcher

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ltwharfy · 1 month

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Can you tell us some headcanons for older!Chlogan? 👀

Awwww, Pom, your enthusiasm for rare pairs- your own and others- is just the best! So, Chlogan, the relationship between aged-up Chloe Barbash and Logan Bush...

I will admit, it first started as a joke that amused me on a couple of levels, the main ones being "wouldn't it be funny if Louise's nemeses got together?" and "Chlogan is a fun portmanteau ship name- her name flows right into his!"

But when @sailoreuterpe was doing the rare pair ask game last year, I asked her about Chlogan and she gave a thoughtful answer, which included this: "However, considering who Chloe and Logan are, it's just as likely that their parents hate each other for dumb wealthy WASP reasons. If that's the case, Chloe and Logan could very well date specifically to piss of their parents." That sort of inspired the most developed idea I have about the two of them getting together.

I imagine them knowing each other as kids (ie- at their current ages in the show and maybe even longer) because of their parents (who dislike each other) being in the same social circle. They do not get along either. They each find the other annoying- Chloe thinks Logan is gross, Logan thinks Chloe is a spoiled brat. At best case, they ignore each other, at the worst they fight.

However, as they get older, Chloe, to her chagrin, starts finding Logan attractive and thinking of him as a "cool bad boy"- at least, in the context of her privileged social circle. By the time Chloe graduates high school, she is really starting to chafe against her parents and their rules and their expectations- so she seeks Logan out to teach her how to be rebellious- and hoping to eventually get him to date her to annoy their parents (but that's not her only reason..)

Eventually, in romcom fashion, everything resolves as follows: 1. Chloe realizes Logan actually isn't much of a bad boy or rebel after all; 2. But by that point they actually just like each other anyway; 3. It turns out their parents don't actually care if they are together.

That's the main idea I have about the two of them. Here are some jokier alternatives (which could also incorporate the childhood/family animosity background):

-Rudy sets them up. I imagine this being when they are further in adulthood. Rudy and Louise are married; Louise is running the restaurant and Logan also has a store on Ocean Avenue (skateboards or something) and they've become friends (friends who annoy each other, but still). Rudy ends up reconnecting with Chloe (maybe interviewing her for some story he's doing for public radio) and comes up with the idea of setting Chloe and Logan up. Louise mocks him for it and everyone thinks its a bad idea (including Logan and Chloe) but it works out. This idea amuses me, but I doubt I'll do anything with it because it really says more about how I see older Rudy (a romantic who thinks everyone deserves happiness) rather than Logan or Chloe themselves.

-Rewatching "A Few 'Gurt Men" for my episode ranking rewatch led me to think (based on my experience as a lawyer) which "Bob's Burgers" kids would succeed in law school and the practice of law- and honestly Chloe and Logan were two of the top names on my list (along with Tammy- being a lawyer is not about being smart, it's about being confident). I could easily see them going from work rivals (within the same firm or on opposite sides) to lovers.

Thanks for letting me talk Chlogan! I don't know if I'll ever write anything about them. I love Chloe (and have written from her POV once) but I'm not super interested in writing about Logan. I don't hate him (Linda's parents are the only "Bob's Burgers" characters I might say I hate) but I don't find him particularly compelling. That said, "Jade in the Shade" was probably the most I've enjoyed his character- and the first time I ever felt empathy for him- so who knows what the future may hold!

#thanks for the ask!#chloe barbash #logan bush #chlogan #bob's burgers #rare pairs #please no one take this too seriously- it's just a silly rare pair idea that makes me laugh

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comic-book-jawns · 3 years

Text

Ten Minutes

Based on an anon prompt

“Hey, I’m so - ”

Jamie flung her arms around her, which was always welcome, of course. But it was done with quite a bit of urgency for having last seen each other not even an hour ago. Jamie had clocked out a bit early to go home and shower ahead of their dinner reservation, and they’d agreed to meet back up at the restaurant, which they were currently standing outside of. Dani was trying to catch her breath, having run over.

Jamie pulled back now, her hands lightly gripping Dani’s upper arms.

“You alright?”

Jamie looked alarmingly distressed. Her voice sounded tight, and her cheek felt clammy as Dani cupped it. Dani tried for a reassuring smile, even as her own mind raced. Why was Jamie so worked up?

“I’m fine. I’m... so sorry. I was... talking to a customer... and lost track of time.”

At that, Jamie let go of her and stepped back, shoving her hands in her pockets. She cleared her throat and looked down. Dani wanted to say something but was at a loss. She’d assumed Jamie would be relieved, but she seemed even more upset now.

Dani took a step closer.

“Hey... are - are you okay?”

Jamie didn’t step back, but she still wouldn’t meet her eye, and she scoffed.

“Well, I’ve been here, haven’t I?”

Dani’s heart sank. She’d felt guilty as soon as she’d realized she wouldn’t make it on time. But still... she glanced down at her watch. It was ten minutes past the time they’d agreed to meet, not ideal but within a standard grace period, and this wasn’t a special occasion — as far as Dani was aware, at least — just a Friday night dinner.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry... I would’ve called, but I... I figured you’d already left the apartment, so... ”

“S’fine.”

Jamie still wouldn’t look up and was now kicking pebbles toward the curb. Dani stepped closer and rubbed Jamie’s upper arm.

“It’s not. Please just... ”

Dani cut herself off with sigh. Jamie hadn’t pulled away, but Dani could tell she wasn’t going to engage. Something was clearly bothering her, and Dani’s explanation for her tardiness had only exacerbated it. She knew Jamie wasn’t the jealous type, but what did that leave?

“Jamie, I... ” Dani swallowed. “I really did lose track of time. I’m not - I didn’t leave late on purpose.”

She should’ve said nothing.

Jamie whipped her head back up, her face flushed. How of much it was in anger versus embarrassment was unclear. But it was definitely both.

“I know that!”

Startled, Dani jumped slightly, then saw her own expression mirrored on Jamie’s face. Dani’s hand slipped off her arm as Jamie stepped back, the color draining from her face. Before Dani could call out, someone else did.

“Jamie! Party of two.”

Dani saw Jamie tense up and followed her gaze. Looking over her own shoulder, Dani saw the hostess standing by the restaurant door looking around, two menus in hand. Assuming she would just want to go home, Dani turned back to Jamie.

But Jamie was gone.

*****

She hadn’t gone far.

Dani found her in the first place she looked: the park around the corner. Jamie was sitting on a swing, kicking off and then dragging her feet against the wood chips as she swung back. There were a few kids playing on the jungle gym but none on the swings.

As Dani approached her, she could see tears trickling down Jamie’s face. As much as she wanted to take her in her arms, she knew it would better to take things slow, so she sat down on the swing beside her instead. Dani didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing again, so they sat for almost a minute in silence, save for Jamie’s sniffling.

“D’ya know the last thing Louise said to me?”

Dani shook her head, relieved Jamie wasn’t going to give her the silent treatment. Then, she realized Jamie probably wasn’t looking at her, and therefore hadn’t seen her acknowledge the question. Then, she remembered it had clearly been rhetorical. She was so distracted it took her a moment to process what Jamie said next.

“Me neither.”

Dani’s heart sank again as her breath caught. She looked over to find Jamie wiping her face with the heel of her hand. Then, she returned it to the chain of the swing and continued staring straight ahead.

“It’s s’pose to stay with ya — whether it haunts ya or comforts ya... That’s what I’ve heard, but... ” Jamie cleared her throat. “Didn’t even realize at first... that she’d really gone.”

Jamie finally looked over her, and Dani felt her own eyes watering, but she did her best to keep the tears at bay. She couldn’t stop herself from letting out a small gasp, though, when Jamie dropped her right hand from the swing chain and held it out. Dani took it immediately, squeezing it, and offering a faint small. Jamie faced forward again but didn’t let go.

“She wasn’t there when we woke up. But that wasn’t unusual. Me and Denny went to school, asked a neighbor to look in on Mikey. Not that she did it gladly... or well.” Jamie let out a mirthless chuckle. “Denny went out with his friends after, and I went home to find... ”

Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand. She’d heard this part before. Jamie cleared her throat.

“So once I calmed Mikey down, changed ’im, I went over with him to see Agnes, our neighbor, give her a piece ah ma mind. She wasn’t s’pose to leave ’im alone. That was the whole point.” Dani nodded. “But she started yellin’ back, said Louise had come home with a man and told her to leave.”

Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand again as Jamie took a shaky breath.

“I didn’t want to believe her. But she didn’t have a reason to lie. The only reason she watched Mikey willin’ly was so she wouldn’t have to stay home with her deadbeat husband. But she still... ” Jamie chuckled again. “She still stood there and laughed at me.”

Jamie sniffled, and Dani swung sideways toward her, close enough to gently nudge Jamie’s foot with her own. She smiled softly as she saw Jamie’s lips twitch.

“So I went back home, but I still thought she’d show up. Told maself she’d just gone off to a pub with ’im, that she’d come traipsing back drunk that night or hungover the next day... But then it was the next day, then it had been a few days, then a week... And that’s when it finally hit me.”

Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand once more as Jamie cleared her throat.

“So I tried to remember what she’d said — any part of our last conversation... and I came up blank.”

Jamie turned to her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she didn’t seem to be actively crying anymore.

“That’s what I was doin’ while I was waitin’.” Dani furrowed her brow. Jamie looked down at their hands, and her voice grew softer. “I was tryna remember the last thing you said to me.”

Dani felt the air being sucked from her lungs. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she felt even worse now than she had outside the restaurant.

“Jamie!”

It came out strangled, breathless. The tears finally broke free and started streaming down her face. Her vision blurred, but she saw Jamie’s head whip back up.

“No, Dani, please. Please don’t. This is my fault.”

Jamie sounded on the verge of tears again, but Dani shook her head violently.

“It is, Dani. I - I overreacted when ya didn’t show... and then I took it out on ya ’cause I was embarrassed.”

Dani nodded after a moment. Having a meltdown wouldn’t help either of them, and Jamie’s behavior made a lot more sense now. But something still didn’t add up. She took a few deep breaths as wiped her face with her free hand, then cleared her throat.

“If you were that concerned, why didn’t you just look for me?”

Jamie opened her mouth to respond, then closed it after a moment and looked down at their hands. Dani tried to think of what to say, cursing herself for having upset her again. But just then, Jamie burst out laughing. It was genuine, Dani could tell, but that only added to her confusion.

“Jay?”

Jamie shook her head as if to clear it.

“Sorry, I, uh... ” She cleared her throat and looked back up, smiling faintly. “I didn’t look for ya ’cause it had only been a few minutes, and I didn’t want to seem like a possessive psycho.”

Jamie laughed and looked down again. Dani exhaled, relaxing slightly.

“But I failed after all.”

“Jamie... ”

“No, it’s - we spend so much time together as it is. And obviously you’re allowed to talk to other people.” Jamie looked up, tense. “You know that, right? That that’s not why - ”

Dani squeezed her hand.

“I know. You - you thought something had happened to me.” Jamie nodded sheepishly. “I’ll be more... conscientious from now on.”

Jamie shook her head.

“Dani - ”

Dani put her other hand around Jamie’s now, too.

“Jamie, it’s my choice.” Jamie sighed after a moment. “But I can’t - I can’t guarantee I won’t ever run late again or - ”

“’Course not. No one can. I know that... Doesn’t mean... ” She cleared her throat and looked down. “Just hard to remind maself ah that sometimes.”

Dani nodded, massaging Jamie’s hand. They sat in silence for a few moments, both swinging slightly, then Dani gently released Jamie’s hand. Jamie went wide-eyed, so Dani slipped her left arm around the swing chain and stood up as quickly as possible.

“Can I, umm?”

Dani held out her arms, then smiled as Jamie’s crooked smile greeted her. Jamie stood up swiftly and flung her arms around her once more. Dani closed her eyes as she cradled Jamie’s head and rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Jamie - ”

“And thank you.”

“For what?”

The response came a few moments later.

“Bein’ you.”

Dani felt her smile widen, then remembered something.

“Did you?”

Nothing, then:

“Did I... ”

Dani opened her eyes, chuckling as she realized how her ridiculous her question had sounded without context.

“Did you, umm... ” She swallowed. “Remember what I - the last thing I said before... ”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Dani felt Jamie pull back slightly and shifted her hand from Jamie’s head to her back. Jamie kept her arms around her neck, and Dani was relieved to find her crooked smile still in place. She was even blushing slightly. Intrigued, Dani tried to remember herself, but Jamie beat her to it.

“‘Wash behind your ears.’”

Dani laughed. It came back to her now. Jamie had worn her hair in a bun while she’d worked and managed to smudge dirt behind both of them.

“Right. Sorry.”

Jamie, laughing too, cocked her head.

“Why?”

Dani cleared her throat.

“Well, it’s not exactly - I mean, if that really had been the last thing I’d said to you... ”

Jamie shrugged.

“I liked it. It was sweet. Short ’n sweet.”

Dani smiled, feeling her eyes tear up again. It was a good thing to know, she thought. And then she felt her smile fade. Jamie must’ve seen it.

“Like you.”

Dani felt her smile return and her cheeks blush. Normally, she was the one who got all corny, but...

“Don’t.”

Dani giggled. Jamie was trying hard to keep a straight face but now blushing furiously. Dani glanced to their left. The kids were gone — though even if they hadn’t been, the way they were already holding each wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

She wasted no time turning back for a kiss, which Jamie eagerly returned her until she pulled back, giggling herself. Then, they just looked at each other for a few moments, both giggling, until Jamie cleared her throat.

“I know we have to eat.” Dani nodded. “But while we’re here... ”

Jamie jerked her head back. Dani immediately pulled away, beaming, and ran back to her swing.

“You’re on!”

She sat down and turned to find Jamie sitting down with much more dignity, eyebrow raised.

“S’not a sport, Poppins.”

Dani smirked.

“It is the way I do it.”

Jamie chuckled and faced forward.

“All right, then. Loser has to pay for dinner... Dani?”

Dani was already a few swings in, gaining speed and momentum by the second, when she saw Jamie turn to her in her periphery.

“Dani!”

Dani laughed as she saw Jamie kickoff.

“Never said we had to wait to start!”

23 notes · View notes

bunnylouisegrimes · 3 years

Text

Sick Day (NOS4A2 Drabble)

A/N: Holy shit! I actually wrote something?! Well, unfortunately, this is probably gonna be my only fic for a while since I’m gonna be so busy. But I hope you all enjoy some Charlie fluff! It helped to let my creative muse out amongst my stress! (Also, I own a Totoro like the toy pictured above) ;)

Sick Day

NOS4A2 Drabble

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

That Friday, the stretches of farmland rolled along beside the Wraith as we went for a leisurely drive. The clouds were grey, the spring air was cool, and dew covered the windows. We took a rest outside of a beautiful and abandoned hospital to eat our fries and crack each other up. Nearby, a park sat where Charlie pushed me on the swings. But by the time we decided to head back home and order a pizza, I noticed I was feeling a bit tired. While ordering the pizza, I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. The only interesting (and scary) thing on was a news segment discussing how a shooter at a restaurant two towns over had threatened to kill people (something like an altercation with his girlfriend who was a waitress perhaps?), and he was still at large.

“Well, that explains the helicopters we’ve been seeing and hearing,” I said.

“Indeed,” Charlie nodded. “We’ll have to be careful tonight and make sure everything is locked up so that he doesn’t try to hide here, especially since this house is the perfect place to hide. Out in the middle of nowhere, miles of forest to run, the mountains... good thing my Wraith has a mind of her own, because if he thinks about hiding there, he’ll be ran over.”

After I ordered the pizzas from my laptop, we went out for another small drive in the grey skies to retrieve them. By then, my tiredness had gotten worse, and I noticed my body had a dull ache. I wrapped myself up in my yellow sweater tighter. Besides that, I was wearing green floral leggings, green socks, and black Mary Janes. It was already a cool afternoon, but it wasn’t this freezing, so why was I so cold? I thanked the fact my hair was done in a pair of long fluffy puppytails held together by my green ribbons so that I had an extra layer of warmth.

“I’m concerned I might be coming down with something,” I told Charlie. “I’m starting to feel real tired, cold, and achy.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel,” he said. “If you start to feel really sick, we’ll have our answer and we’ll give you medicine.”

After coming home and eating our pizza, my tiredness, alongside my full stomach, overtook me, and I fell asleep. When I woke up from a bizarre dream, I realized how cold, achy, and tired I was. Charlie felt my head and observed that I was feeling very hot. He took into consideration how cold his body temperature was and placed the tympanic thermometer from the bathroom into my ear. I was 100 degrees Fahrenheit on the dot, a definite fever.

He presented me with medicine and he carried me upstairs, where I fell asleep once more. When I woke up from even more odd dreams, my fever had increased to almost 103 degrees. I had developed a headache and chest discomfort. I went to the bathroom due to an odd sensation in my stomach, and I realized what it was once I was done.

“Charlie,” I called weakly to the hallway. “I have diarrhea too!”

“Well, all of this is most unfortunate,” Charlie sighed. “We should call the doctor and he can figure out what’s wrong.”

He got on the landline and contacted the local doctor. I ended up with an appointment that day at three. Charlie helped me change into the clothes I wore yesterday, and he helped me rebraid my hair. When we arrived 30 minutes later, there was only a few other people in the doctor’s office. I was the second person to be called. After a quick checkup and a quick talk with the nurse about my symptoms, the doctor walked in five minutes later and concluded I had the flu.

“Flu season’s in fall and winter,” he said. “It peaks between December and February, but it can run even as late as now. It happens sometimes, someone has it and you just catch it. It’s pesky influenza, you can get it at anytime.” He turned to Charlie. “That elderberry medicine was good thinking. Keep giving her that so it will help her immune system. I also recommend Vitamin C, so orange juice is a good drink idea. Here’s an antiviral prescription.” He gave the paper to Charlie. “I’ll call the pharmacy, you’ll be able to pick it up in a few hours.” He turned back to me. “In the meantime, you just take lots of rest and stay hydrated, especially with your diarrhea. Since your stomach might be upset, you should eat lighter things like crackers.” He chuckled and smiled, saying, “I assume you know all this, however, given you are in the medical field yourself.”

I nodded, laughing as best I could. “I don’t work as a nurse now since moving here, but at anytime, if I do need to work, I think this would be a good place.”

He beamed. “Absolutely! I’m glad you think so! You seem like the person we’d like on board. But you focus on your health first.”

After leaving, Charlie took me home, where I switched into my pajamas and cuddled up with some of my ponies (Razzaroo, Minty, Wysteria, Sweetberry, Cotton Candy, Sunny Daze, Sparkleworks, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Kimono), Kuchi Kopi (who glowed a comforting green), and my stuffed Totoro on the couch.

“I’ll make you some soup,” Charlie said. “You want some Progresso rice soup with Taco Bell sauce?”

“Just like when I was a kid,” I smiled. “Yes. Can you put in A Charming Birthday so I can watch something small for a little bit?”

He put in the pony VHS tape and went into the kitchen. The soup was done and I had adjusted myself on the couch. He also presented me with orange juice in a glass and ice. I ate my soup and drank my OJ carefully while Charlie turned on the news again once the twenty minute short was over. The culprit from yesterday had been caught, so there was no need to worry about him on the loose anymore. Other than that, the news became annoying, so I asked Charlie if we could watch a movie.

“Could we watch My Neighbor Totoro?” I asked.

“What is that?” He looked puzzled.

“It’s one of the movies I brought. It’s from the 80’s, animated, and from Japan.”

He looked at the clock. “Let me get your medicine. I’ll have to get it in about fifteen minutes, and you know it takes ten minutes to get to town. Finish your soup while I’m gone and I’ll make you some hot chocolate upon my return.”

I nodded, changed the channel to Two Broke Girls, and we exchanged a kiss before he left once more. I had finished my soup almost ten minutes later and my stomach felt slightly upset (not the fault of the food, it had to have just been my stomach being in the state it was in). I weakly stumbled upstairs, chills hitting my aching body without my blanket, and did my business in some discomfort. I did my best to clean myself up with painfilled muscles. I felt clean and wrapped up what I needed to do. The lilac smell of the soap and the warm water I was using to clean my hands up smelled and felt refreshingly pleasant on my ill body.

I snuggled with my toys when I returned downstairs and chuckled at Caroline and Max’s antics to get more money until Charlie returned home. I took my medicine (including the elderberry medicine he gave me yesterday) and he made me hot chocolate, alongside a plate of crackers. He put in the Totoro DVD and I anticipated seeing the serene and beautiful world associated with Studio Ghibli movies. I was snuggled up with Charlie and had my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked.

“Physically, no, but emotionally, yes.”

“I’ve never seen this movie before. How good is it?”

“Very. It’s comforting, light hearted, and filled with lots of innocence and imagination.”

He smiled. “Hmm, seems like it’s right up my alley. I’m intrigued.” He picked up the case. “What is a Totoro?”

“He’s a forest spirit. He’s a mix between a cat, owl, and raccoon. You’ll like him, he’s a gentle giant.”

We watched the entire movie, the two of us making side comments every now and then, and Charlie loved every minute of it. By the time the famous ending credits serenaded, I was ready for a nap. Charlie turned it to Ghost Adventures reruns. I desperately wanted to stay awake, but I knew by then I couldn’t. I didn’t mind too much because I knew I had all of their episodes on DVD. I warned Charlie I might fall asleep.

“That’s fine,” he said, kissing my forehead. “This is just so you have something you like to lull you to sleep. I might take a nap myself.”

Within minutes, I fell asleep and had vivid dreams inspired by the movie (something about it raining and Totoro roaring and flying in the night sky while I was roaming around a gorgeous forest). When I woke up, I needed water. I went into the kitchen and downed as much as I could. Charlie woke up a few minutes later. I had to go to the bathroom again and Charlie helped me this time.

“I feel very sweaty and gross,” I sighed.

“You want a warm bubble bath?” He asked.

“You’d give me one?”

“Of course.”

I slipped my pajamas off and he filled the clawfoot bathtub with warm water and and sparkly white bubbles. He made it smell like two soaps called Cosmic RainbowBerries and Old Fashioned Flowers. Once again, my cold, achy body felt exposed, but stepping into the soapy water melted it away. The scent was amazing, and his firm and gentle hands cleaning my weak body made me sigh in pure content. He unbraided my hair and I embraced every moment of his nails and fingers working their way through my scalp. All the while, he was softly humming “Put Your Head On My Shoulder.”

Once I was all clean, he wrapped me in a soft towel as quick as he could so I would not freeze while he dealt with the tub. I picked out a long and soft nightgown with strawberries on it and thigh high flowered socks. I wandered back into the bathroom so he could blow dry my hair and rebraid it.

“Why look at you! You smell as clean as a spring flower! Perhaps the first rose in the meadow? Fitting for your name, dear!”

I laughed and hugged him. “I certainly feel like one thanks to you.”

When we returned downstairs, he began making chili for me, and I decided to play some Call of Duty Zombies. I took more medicine before I played and drank more water as I did. After eating it, talking with Charlie about various things, and snuggling up with him while playing, sleepiness took over again. By the time I went down from running out of options and being surrounded by the undead, I was about to fall asleep on Charlie’s lap, controller still in hand.

“I think, my darling, it’s time for you to find a more comfortable place for your head,” he coyly teased. “And as I would consider myself a gentleman first and foremost, I would certainly rather have my lady comfortable in a bed rather than my lap.”

I lifted up and rubbed my eyes. “Ugh, you’re right, my fever might be getting a tiny bit high again because it’s night. Sorry, baby.”

He kissed my cheek. “No, no, it’s quite alright. You are correct your fever might be higher now. Let’s head to bed.”

We turned everything off, I put my ponies (with the exception of a random three of Minty, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash) and Totoro back where they belonged, but I held onto Kuchi Kopi. He carried me to bed as I snuggled with my toys and blanket in his arms. I set my ponies and Kuchi Kopi near the lamp on my side of the bed. I brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom one more time (but not to deal with my stomach, luckily, that would maybe be saved for the morning), cleaned off my glasses, and hopped into bed. Charlie has brought up my glass of water and set it near my lamp as well. He turned off the light and left us with the comforting white hallway light and Kuchi Kopi from beside me. We snuggled into bed under the covers and I held onto him.

“Thank you for taking care of me today and helping me every step of the way,” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Of course, my dear, anything for you. I know you’d do the same for me... well, if I could get sick, but I don’t, hence why I was able to take care of you to the extent I could without fearing exposure. But even if I wasn’t a vampire and could get ill, I’d still take care of you.”

“Awww, sugarpop ,” I kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick. I wouldn’t force you to do it. I’m not even forcing you now.”

“I would anyways, and you know this.” He rested his chin on my scalp.

“You are the sweetest man alive, you know that?”

“And you are the sweetest girl alive. Once you are feeling better, would you like to visit the children? I am sure they would love to see their stepmother all healthy and well.”

“I’d love that, and we could make pillow forts, eat cookies and oatmeal, drink hot cocoa and watch Totoro together...” My eyes fluttered just at the thought and my body sunk into his.

“They would love that deeply,” he agreed. “I admit, in some ways, those two little girls in that movie remind me of my own Millie and Lorrie. I think they’d relate to their sisterly bond.”

“Mmmhmmm...” I snuggled closer to him, about to drift off.

“Good night, mignon,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Good night... I love you too...” I mumbled.

We both fell into deep sleep. It had been a rough two days feeling as ill as I did, and I knew the next few days would be the same, but I had Charlie by my side to help take care of me. And that would make all the difference.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charles manx #nos4a2 charlie

15 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 3 years

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1192

Have you ever tried a colorful macaroon? Maybe you mean macarons? I’ve never seen a macaroon with food coloring before.

Do you say macaroon or macaron? It depends on what I’m referring to because they’re two different kinds of food.

Do you know what a macaroon is? Yes, they taste terrible.

Would you rather go to Paris or London? Both sound a bit too boring of a trip for me tbh, I’d rather go to other European cities.

Which national flag do you like the best? I’m not that into flags to have a favorite...I like how Nepal’s has a unique shape, though.

Name 3 celebrities people say you look like. Lucy Hale, Anna Akana, and a local celebrity you wouldn’t know about.

^Do you agree? I never saw myself looking like Anna but that’s actually the most common one I get, so I just might not know my face all that well. The only one that’s agreeable enough with me is the last celebrity I mentioned.

Do you know anyone who looks like Taylor Swift? No, especially not on this side of the planet.

Have you ever been betrayed by a best friend? Yes but that was like back in the fifth grade. I’ve been very selective of my friends ever since.

What color is the sweatshirt that you wear the most? Black.

Do you have a mirror in your room? No. I don’t really feel as if I need it.

What was the last thing you painted? I last painted on a paint-by-numbers kit, but it’s been a while since I took up the hobby. I want to get back around to it someday, but proably not any time soon as I find it a tad bit time-consuming.

Do you correct grammatical errors online? Not other people’s, but yeah I edit my posts whenever I catch a typo or grammar error. I also edit survey questions if they aren’t in proper grammar, just so other people who’d want to take the same survey won’t have to deal with it and point it out anymore.

What’s the last thing you made out of clay? I’ve only done pottery once, and that time I was taught how to make a vase. I wasn’t able to see the end result though since they still had to bake it and everything, and I was only staying in that town for a few days.

Do you go for days without washing your hair? No, I absolutely hate that feeling. My hair starts getting itchy after a day or so of not washing it and it feels irritating, so I feel the need to shower everyday.

When is the last time you had scrambled eggs and bacon? Maybe around a week ago? It’s something my parents make regularly for breakfast, alongside other local breakfast dishes.

Do you like bacon bits on your salad? I don’t really eat salad but sure, I’ll take some bacon in mine.

What is your favorite salad dressing? See above.

What is your favorite kind of soup? Not a big soup person either. I suppose I’m most enthusiastic about miso soup, if anything.

Do you eat a lot of soup? Not at all. I don’t think I ever purposely ordered it at a restaurant either; I only consume soup if it already comes as a freebie with my order.

Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? Nope, was never a hobby of mine. This reminds me that I have a mason jar filled with date receipts and love notes on tiny Post-Its from my last relationship, though...I literally can’t remember if I’ve since thrown it out, but I also haven’t seen it in a while...hm. I guess I’ll try looking for it later today and throw it away if I do find it still lying around in my room.

What’s a trend that you never caught on to? Remember when I said streetwear like, literally a month ago? Lmaoooooo I’m into it now. That’s why I’ll just skip over this question HAHAHAHA I always end up being obsessed with the things I swear off in the beginning :((((

What’s a trend that you haven’t caught on to yet, but you want to? Vlogging? It’d be nice to make a video or two of my own.

Do you type fast? Very. My co-workers recently started sharing this typing speed website that we’re all free to try out and so far I’m the official reigning champion haha. No one has beaten my WPM record yet.

Did you learn to type through a computer program for kids? Yes. I never adopted the ‘standard’ finger practice though; I type only with my index and middle fingers.

How many years were you homeschooled? I was never homeschooled.

If applicable, what’s a youtuber you would love to collab with? Louise Pentland.

Do you think you’re successful in life? Not quite there yet, but I’m comfortable with the way I’m working towards it for now. It’s nice to be doing things that I know will lead to something in the future.

What color is the tree outside your window? If you mean the leaves, then green.

What color is your rug, if you have one? (not carpet, rug) I don’t have one in my room but the main one we have in the living room is brown.

What do you take for pain? I take a Biogesic pill for headaches. If I get muscle sores/strains, I rub Katinko on the spots that hurt.

Which pharmacy do you use? I never need to go to those but I can always take a drive to the nearby Mercury Drug.

Do you reapply nail polish when it starts to chip? I don’t wear nail polish at all.

What is this month’s calendar picture? I don’t use a calendar.

What was the last thing you ate? Sushiiiiiiiii. I made a very impulsive and rash decision to buy THREE ORDERS of sushi yesterday. I hadn’t eaten all day and I also had a crappy at work, and my clouded judgment thought buying 24 pieces of maki was the way to go. I’m still in the stage of trying to convince myself I deserved it anyway.

What are your favorite things to put in tea? I don’t drink tea tea, but when I buy milk tea I always go for chocolate flavors. I also don’t like pearls in my milk tea.

Do you wish the Unicorn Frappuccino was a regular drink at Starbucks? I never go for customized drinks, so I don’t care at all about this.

Is there a coffee shop in your town that’s better than Starbucks? Possibly, but I may not have checked it out yet. For now, I like buying from Starbucks.

Do you frequent any coffee shops? Back in college I used to alternate between Starbucks and Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf; I’d go several times a week to either because coffee shops were the best place to study at.

What’s your favorite Lisa Frank character? I was never aware that there were characters lol. I thought it was only her.

Which Disney character looks the most like you? Raya for sure, but before her, I felt a big connection with Moana.

Did you go to Disney World or Disneyland as a kid? No, I haven’t gotten to go yet. It would be nice if my first time could also already be a trip with my own kid in the future :)

Do you live with a demon? Talk about creepy question lol. No.

Who has the best personality on youtube? Who cares? < I mean, same. I’m sure they all put up a show to some extent - I don’ think anyone would ever know the answer to this...but personally, those whose personalities I find really endearing would beeeeee Grace Helbig, Kelsey Impicciche, Kelsey Darragh, and Andrew Ilnyckyj.

What are some of your goals for this year? Stay employed, be better at my job, collect more BTS albums.

Does it feel like spring yet? We don’t have spring, so I don’t know what that would feel like.

What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? I don’t wait until April 22 to do something for the planet.

How do you celebrate Easter? I don’t.

Have you ridden your bike yet this year? I can’t ride bikes, haaaaa.

What does your bike look like? The family bike has some blue and grey on it. Not that I ever practice riding it.

What is your favorite place that you’ve lived? I like the house that we live in now. I like that we have a rooftop and that we don’t live with extended family.

Do you shop at Aeropostale? No, and I’m not sure we have Aeropostale shops here. The only reason we ever got Aeropostale items of clothing in the past was because relatives living in the States would occasionally bring home a box of pasalubong for us here in the Philippines.

What’s the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? Idk, probably a shirt. Have you ever been to a church that just wanted your money? Aren’t all churches like that? < Can agree and can confirm. My local parish has been undergoing a ridiculously extravagant renovation for years now and the thing is that the renovation is meant to be so fucking fancy they clearly can’t afford it, so they’ve been pooling money from churchgoers for years now as well. When we could still physically attend mass I used to keep myself from laughing everytime one of the church staff would come up on the podium and ask for money again.

Who is someone you are struggling to forgive, if applicable? I don’t struggle to forgive. I just don’t forgive. If someone does me wrong I just do my best to block them out of my memories, get into the mindset that they never existed, and live peacefully from there.

Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? I don’t think so, at least not intentionally. My mom always did it unintentionally though, especially in my tween and teen years. She was always very harsh with her words and actions (she still is, but we don’t butt heads as often anymore). I didn’t have a very good emotional foundation mainly thanks to her and I had to claw my own way to get to be the much more stable self I am today.

What’s your favorite type of cereal? Sweet ones.

Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? I never babysat kids outside of younger relatives.

Who is your favorite cousin? My eldest cousin from my mom’s side. I’ve always viewed him more as a brother than a cousin since we did live under the same roof for nearly a decade before my family moved to our own home.

Does one side of your family live in another state? My family is spread out everywhere, dude. I have relatives living in another town, another city, another province, another region, another island, another country. Idk about cultures but that’s generally how Filipino families are to begin with.

What states did your parents grow up in? I’m not saying that.

Do you want kids? If yes, how many? It would be nice. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find someone I would want to marry and have a family with. It definitely seems bleak, but then again I’m 23 lmao. I’m not in a hurry.

What’s a craft that you’ve seen online that you don’t think will work? Most of the shit that that 5 Minute Crafts channel or whatever they’re called puts out.

What, if anything, are you severely allergic to? Grass.

Have you ever had an allergic reaction to an insect? Nopes.

How do you react to bee stings? I’ve never been stung and I hope that never happens to me.

Is there a good hospital where you live? I’m not so sure; I don’t take trips to the hospital frequently.

What’s your favorite kind of tea to drink in the spring? I never drink tea. Never been my...cup of tea? Hahahaha.

What are your favorite biblical names for girls? Elizabeth and Eden.

…for boys? Luke, Noah, Jacob, Seth.

What color nail polish do you usually wear in the spring? Again, I never put on nail polish.

What’s your favorite color that you’ve dyed your hair? I haven’t tried dyeing my hair either :( It’s something I want to explore, though.

Do you ever eat ice cream in the winter? We don’t have winter but yeah, I’m not opposed to having ice cream when the climate is on the cooler side.

How often do you wash your sheets? Every month or so.

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? No one got away with pulling that kind of shit in my old school.

^Did everyone hate her/him? -

^Were you his/her target? -

#survey #surveys

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har-rison-s · 4 years

Text

heaven: 16

nothing lasts forever

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Hi! Part sixteen already. Whew, last one was quite long, wasn’t it? It’s one of my best works ever, I think. Has me feeling so many emotions, and quite strongly, idk. Welp, here goes one of the last chapters. I still haven’t decided how many more chapters there will be, but I just know this Heaven is nearing its end. I hope you all like how this turns out. I’m still a bit conflicted between a few characters and plot points of the ending, like I have a few versions of the ending in mind, and I wanna execute all and none of them at the same time. If I decide on this one ending that’s the most strong out of all of them, I hope y’all won’t kill me. I just finished rewatching the 1990 mini-series. Damn, that’s messy. The dialogues, the special effects… Don’t even get me started on the acting. Anyways, happy quarantine reading! Love you lots <3

warnings: long as always hahahah, wounds, blood, food, nothing else

word count: 3.7k

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Gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me! (Also, it's raining in the gif but idc! Y'all know it's morning and sunny as hell in Derry, Maine rn!)

“Could we have six menus and a first-aid kit?” Richie Tozier asks the young waitress who has approached their miserable-looking table. Her eyebrows raise and she scans the eight adults to see why they would need a first aid kit—not that it’s any of her business—and she screams, coming across Eddie’s bleeding side. The Losers flinch at the high pitch of her scream.

“You need to get to the hospital!” She says, tears streaming down her face. Now this one’s quite emotional for six o’clock in the morning, the Losers think in unison and exchange looks between themselves, finding it imposible to say any words at the current moment.

“I promise, he’s fine.” Richie tells the girl, looking at her through his thick glasses.

“It’s just a scratch.” Eddie says non-chalantly, and the waitress thinks to herself that these really are a bunch of crazy people, as she presumed when they walked inside the diner. “Besides, I’m a doctor. Could you please bring the menus and a.... uh, a first-aid kit?” He squints and tries his best at a smile at the crying waitress.

She gathers herself, wipes her tears and smiles as wide as up to her ears. “Right away.” She says in a squeaky voice and leaves their table. The Losers exchange looks between themselves once again, overwhelmed by the events of the night and by the heavily emotional waitress that they have to deal with. They huddle closer together to one another in their red-and-white leather seated booth.

The place smells of freshly cooked food, coffee and cigarettes. Oh, they’ll all definitely have coffee. A mood and energy booster, that’s for sure, that’s what they need. Though none of them are sure they even have such a thing as a ‘mood’, or ever will. This morning they’re certainly not in any kind of mood. To be completely honest, the Losers feel quite hollow. They feel completed, and they feel a lot of love and pride, but they feel empty inside, as if there’s a hole in their chests and it keeps getting more hollow.

Stanley’s head rests on Y/N’s shoulder, his hair fallen against her delicate neck. She runs her fingers slowly through his semi-dry curls. Only the roots have dried, and slowly the draught moves further through his jet black strands, taking its time. Stanley places his hand over Y/N’s in his lap, their fingers intertwining seconds after. She lays a kiss on his forehead, and he closes his eyes. You can be at peace.

Y/N looks onto Eddie and Richie, both anxiously waiting for that requested first-aid kit. But they look more peaceful than ever before and Y/N thinks, they all must look that way. Richie’s arm has fallen with natural force around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie holds that slack hand in his own, creating a lock of security around himself. Richie’s other hand is drumming against the marbled surface of the table, and he looks at Bev and Ben across the table.

They’re talking to themselves abotu something so quietly that no one can hear them. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re playing with each other’s hands softly, playfully. Bev’s crimson locks touch Ben’s cheek ever so softly and he closes his eyes. January embers. He opens his eyes again and looks strongly into Bev’s. My heart burns there, too.

Bill tries not to watch them too strikingly. But it’s hard, his first supposed crush and love sitting at the other end of the table with his best friend, completely in their own world, completely in love. It’s hard for his heart, to be precise. His mind knows better. You know better, Bill, you have a wife that you love and, now that you think of it, looks a lot like Bev here. And Beverly’s happy. So are the rest of your friends. You’ll go home and you’ll be happy, too. Back home with Audra, her movies, your novels and their shitty endings.

Maybe I don’t want to go home, he finds himself thinking. And he’s a bit surprised by that thought. Hmm. What does that mean? Maybe I could live in Derry, spend the rest of my days here, watching as the town, hopefully, evolves, changes. Maybe he can live with Mike now. Bill looks over at his friend. Mike’s smiling, smiling for his friends and his own self, but he’s not looking at them. Mike is probably gonna stay, isn’t he? So what’s so bad about me staying here, and with him?

Actually Bill doesn’t even wanna think about going back what’s been, for the last thirteen years, considered home. The thought of it makes him sick, for some reason. Maybe he’s not yet ready to think about it all, think about the possibility of going back to England and telling Audra they’re moving to Derry. Yeah, she is not gonna like it at all. And he’s not gonna like that she won’t like it. The thought of it makes him sick, as already said.

“Here are your menus and the kit.” The waitress has returned, and she doesn’t look shabby anymore. She lays out the menus on the table with her delicate, seemingly teenage hands, and puts the first-aid kit on the table in front of Eddie.

“Thanks so much.” Eddie speaks his thanks the loudest, and the young girl leaves again. Eddie immediately opens the red box and searches for disinfectant and bandages. He finds a bottle of Equate antiseptic and hands it to Richie, continuing his search for cotton gauze and pads, assuming he won’t find plasters as big as he needs in here.

Richie unscrews the antiseptic and lifts up Eddie’s shirt. Jeez Louise, it’s a bloodbath. Eddie’s started to bleed onto the seat. Y/N sees their desperate situation and hands the box of tissues on the windowsill to Richie. But Richie gives them to Mike, so he can help clean the wound while Richie cleans it with wipes Eddie’s found in the box.

“You’re losing a shit ton of blood, dude, you feeling okay?” Richie asks Eddie, carefully cleaning the scrape in his side. Eddie winces here and there, and even draws back when it really stings.

“I’m fine.” Eddie replies in that same non-chalant voice he’s used for the past half hour. “It’s not that much, anyway.” Richie shakes his head at that statement. They’re almost done with cleaning the skin and wound. The blood still flows, though.

“We’re going to the hospital later.” Richie states in a soft, commanding voice. Eddie doesn’t really pay mind to Richie’s words, having trouble connecting to thoughts about the next five minutes. He’s gathered some bandages from all that he could find in the kit. Then Eddie looks down at his left side and groans.

“Looks like something took a bite out of me.” He states, looking at the obvious strike in his skin and a bit further than that. There’s other layers visible already, a darker red than his skin. Muscle, that is, and he can see some blood vessels too. Oh, dear God, he’s going to faint. The blood flow is not stopping.

“Be thankful it didn’t.” Richie reminds him. Eddie takes some medical wool and gives it to Richie. He puts it, as softly as he can, directly into the wound after it’s disinfected, to hopefully stop the blood drip for at least a while. Eddie winces, and his face scrunches so much he feels tears squirting out at the corners of his eyes. That is not a nice feeling at all.

Mike presses his hand on the wool to keep it there while Richie gets bandages from Eddie. He puts the biggest plasters at the top and bottom of the wound, securing the wool, and Mike lets go. Then Eddie adds more wool, puts tissues and bandages over it, and Richie helps him secure it all with gauze. Quite messy, but for the time until they’re in the hospital, this will have to last. Richie cleans up the blood around their make-shift work place and puts Eddie’s shirt back down. They throw the tissues in a trash can under their table—wow, they have that kind of thing here?—and lean against the sofa, both tired, more tired than before.

“No staph infections in our lifetime.” Richie states between yawns. The ones who were there, in the back alley where the two holy words were spoken first, laugh. But Mike and Bev only share looks of confusion. Richie lays a kiss atop of Eddie’s head and embraces him back in his arms. Now they have time to look at what the menu’s offering.

Y/N opens the menu in front of her and Stanley so they can both read it at once. Stanley sighs. “I don’t have my glasses.” He mewls. The words printed on the laminated paper are blurry to him, and he realises his obstacles are either back at the hotel or lost in the over-flown sewers or the underground lair. He blinks his eyes twice, but he still can’t read anything except for Derry Diner Menu, which are much larger and in bold.

Y/N tilts her head to rest on his. “Breakfast. Pancakes - ones with caramel, ones with chocolate, ones with bacon and cheese, ones with berries and fruit, ones with ice cream…” She reads out loud. “Country breakfast - ham, eggs, fries, baked beans. Eggs Benedict, Lobster Benedict, Irish Benedict, Eggs Florentine, waffles, steak & eggs.” She sighs. “Anything strike your fancy?”

Stanley shrugs. “Keep reading.” He says, and feels his eyelids and chest heavy. Her voice is so sweet and soothing. Y/N nods.

“Breakfast burrito, mac and cheese, mac and cheese with lobster,” she widens her eyes, “chili, chicken pot pie… turkey, roast beef sandwhiches… sea food, side orders…” she flips through the menu, which requires to move the arm that’s around Stanley. And she finds that his body is limp against hers. She worriedly looks down.

His breath passes through his slightly parted lips, his eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. He’s asleep. Y/N almost laughs into his face, but she turns away and suppresses her giggles. Her friends look at her. “He’s fallen asleep.” She tells them in a whisper, pointing down at Stanley. They nod and most of them smile. No wonder. They feel like doing the same, and they’re actually on the verge, if they weren’t concentrating on reading the menu and hoping for coffee soon.

Y/N stops her giggling fit and looks down at the menu again. What do I want, what do I want… “What are you guys gonna order?” She asks her friends.

“Probably pancakes.” Comes from Bev, who’s decided for both her and Ben.

“Us too.” Mike informs. “Bacon?” He asks.

“Berries.” Ben responds.

“We’re gonna get that country breakfast or whatever.” Richie says. “To get proper fat, you know, grow into Eddie’s mom.” He explains further and everyone giggles, even Eddie himself.

Y/N hums. “I’ve got no idea. I want everything, but it just won’t fit.” She states and Bill chuckles. “I know what to order for Stanley, but myself…”

“Take the same and stop working your brain.” Mike suggests. Y/N looks at him.

“It’s worked enough for the past hours.” Bill supports his argument. Her eyes shift to Bill, and then she looks down at the menu again, a smile on her face now.

“I guess it’s just that easy now.” She admits and closes the menu, putting it on the table instead. Making decisions really is that easy now. She leans back into the seat, Stanley’s body moving with hers. He gets more comfortable while sleeping, his face nuzzling into her neck, tickling her a bit, and his arms going around her, securing themselves together at her waist. Y/N smiles and hugs him back, resting her cheek on his curls. She closes her eyes.

“What will you have?” Bill asks her and she opens an eye to look at him, her own eyelids feeling sort of heavy now. “Before you join him.” He whispers, smiling. She smiles back.

“Love you, Bill.” She tells him sincerely. “Eggs Benedict for us both.” She says and Bill nods. “And coffee, too. Both black, but two sugars in Stanley’s.” She’s surprised herself that she still knows how he likes his coffee, or which breakfast option he’d always choose. It’s like it’s basic knowledge now, something that’s imprinted in her mind and feels like it’s been that way since she can remember. She closes her eyes again and lets her exhaustion take over. She wants to rest, just for a little bit, just lay with Stanley for a while.

She did join him in sleeping for a while. Bill wakes her up when the food and coffees have arrive, starting to tickle her, Ben doing the same to Stanley. The two adults jolt awake, eyes wide and confused, and make their friends laugh.

“Morning, sleepyheads.” Richie nods to them with a smile. Stanley nods right back and Y/N and he both right themselves, sitting up straight. Y/N moves her hair behind her ear and Stanley flattens his shirt. They look down at the fresh food in front of them, though their vision and look on their environement is still hazy from the good-as-hell nap they just woke up from.

“Bone, apple, tit, was it?” Richie suggests as a toast for the Losers’ diner breakfast. Everyone laughs once more, but they clink their coffee cups together, repeating Richie’s ridiculous words and they laugh again, harder this time. Languages have never been Richie’s strongest side.

They all drink coffee in unison and regain some amount energy at that, then delve into their steaming breakfast which fill their noses up to the maximum with utterly irresistible aromas. Richie, like the beast he is, devours half of his plate in the first few minutes while everyone else devours their food bit by bit. But everyone is so endorsed in eating that they don’t pay mind to their friends, for the time they’re eating they even forget they’re with their friends, lest someone else entirely. Food is very good right now. Heavenly, if you might.

When they’re done, they all slump into their seats, letting out groans of content and holding their bellies. “For a diner, that was really good.” Bill says. Y/N laughs. Bill, Eddie, Stanley, Ben—cross that, all of them, except herself and Mike, have grown used to dining at fancy restaurants where it costs to even reserve a table, grown used to making great mega-dishes at home for themselves. They’ve grown used to business events with crazy dinners and a wide range of appetisers. Champagne, wine, whiskey of the highest classes. So this is entirely out of their usual menu, and Bill is, of course, taking it like a snob. Hence Y/N laughed.

She and Mike have not lived the life their friends have. Not that it’s bad lives they’ve been living upto this point, just different, way different from most of the Losers Club. Y/N hasn’t become a famous writer, architect or fashion designer, neither has Mike. So for one, their daily routine differs, and two, their eating habits differ from their friends’. Diner food may be the lowest of them all, considered so by the highest class of society, but Y/N can safely admit that she likes diner food and doesn’t mind having it once in a while. And what can Mike have in this shithole town, anyway, other than make-believe restaurant meals, takeout and diners? Neither of them mind eating here now or any other time.

“I want more.” Y/N manages to croak out, and everyone laughs. “Anyone up for a sundae split?”

“Ugh, we’re really gonna get fat.” Eddie sighs.

“Haystack’s gonna have a come-back!” Richie announces and changes his face into an excited expression. But he still makes his friends laugh, including Ben himself. His laughter rumbles deep and low like a bear’s roar.

“I’ll have a sundae split with you, Y/N/N.” Beverly says, then. Y/N smiles at her.

“Anyone up for a Diet Coke and salad?” Mike asks now, and they all laugh again. Richie joins the girls for a sundae split, and the rest agree with Mike’s offer.

“Wait, wasn’t Y/N working in a diner for a while? In, like, high school?” Eddie asks now, as they wait for the waitress, and he looks at Y/N. She looks at him, tired and full from the eggs, but nods.

“I was.” She confirms. “Not this one, though, the one in the center of town.” She leans towards the table to sit proper and rests her elbows on the surface. She crosses her arms and puts her chin on top of them. “After Bowers and Cockstetter were… out of the picture, I had the freedom to work in the skirt the diner required me to.” She recalls. Those boys were always onto her and Beverly, while they were still alive, which made it hard for them to ever wear something remotely feminine. They always got some sort of cat-calls, and groping was the worst of what would come from them. “Jesus…”

“What scumbags they were.” Beverly joins in, also leaning against the table. She moves her hair out of her face, and looks to Y/N, but Ben’s worried gaze catches her eye instead. She turns to him. He only reaches for her hand with his own. I’m here now.

“You working in a diner was the best thing, Y/N.” Richie says, putting emphasis on ‘best’. She looks at him now and smiles, remembering how stoked they all were for free food and the food that she actually made. Mostly deserts. Stanley’s arm makes its way around her waist. She leans closer to him. “I mean, the birthday parties there were amazing. Nothing could top them.”

“Wow, Rich, even college and work parties?” Mike asks, and they both chuckle.

“You bet your fur, Mikey,” Richie says, patting his friend’s shoulder. He looks reminiscent for a second, his head hangs down, and then he tries to put it into words, “you know, I think—I think because childhood, and teenage years, were the best part of my life. I mean, I’m forty now, so I’m old enough to say shit like that, you know, but… It’s true. I know that I thought it then and I know it now—those were the best parties of my life.” He admits and looks around at his friends. “Because—because I was still young, and because it was the best childhood, I think, any kid could wish for. Even counting in all the shame, the fear, and IT. And because I was with you guys.”

A silence falls upon the Losers Club. But they smile at Richie, and at each other, realising that’s true. Those were the best years of their lives, and actually, taking the horrible parts, the best childhood any child could wish for. The best friends anyone could wish for to spend that childhood and those confusing, difficult teenage years with. Without each other, they wouldn’t be the same, and they wouldn’t be as strong and as full of love and, perhaps, belief.

“You know…” Stanley starts to say, they look at him, “nothing lasts forever.” He states, shaking his head with a dreamy look in his eyes. Nothing does seem to last forever, that is true. But he has a feeling of differing in opinion with his own statement. Nothing lasts forever—the monster they thought had lived under Derry forever, eaten its kids and other residents, cast a spell on the adults and the whole air of Derry, is now dead. So that doesn’t last forever. The promise they made—it is fulfilled now, meaning it won’t last forever, either. It lasted as long as needed to unite them all again. But this… what they have…

“Except for friendship.” Y/N says, looking at him. “And love.” Yes, friendship and love. Those will last forever. The love they have for each other will outlive all their future deaths, all their future kids’ deaths, and their kids’ deaths. This love, and this bond, it will last forever. It will always be somewhere in the predicted long life of the Earth and humanity. It will fly with the wind, blossom in flowers and rosy cheeks, it will swim with the ocean and breathe with the air. Always.

“And love.” Eddie says it with Y/N in unison. They smile at each other. Love. What a wonderful thing. It might as well be a living creature, like fear was. Only much stronger.

“Desire.” Ben suggests. Beverly closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. I know, Ben. But we’re here now. All the desire pent up in teenage and adult years seems much lighter now. For Beverly, Ben and for Richie and Eddie, too. And for Stanley and Y/N. All their desire towards each other has finally been released, even if the door to it is only open in a narrow slit now. Desire might as well live in all eight of them, desire for each other, desire to meet each other again, desire to have that unbreakable friendship again. Desire for that lived in their hearts all these empty years, it was unknown and mysterious, a feeling they could not guess. Now it’s known, and out in the open, nothing to hide from each other. Or anyone else, for that matter. They’re proud.

The Losers Club fall silent, but comfortably so. They’re finally in a comfortable state with themselves and each other, and with the world around them. Strange, vile and ignorant as it may be, the world is truly amazing, though, and much bigger than they all thought. Brought them together that one summer, made a bond that will last forever. They’ve got a lot to thank it for. But they’ve also got every reason to kick the world in the butt and other places.

For now, they’ll let it slide. For now, they’re only focused on being in the diner, getting desert and then showering. Most importantly, for now, they’ve got each other, safe and healthy, and that’s all they need. That will do.

“Anything else you’d like to order?”

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doof-doofblog · 4 years

Text

"You Want A War?! You Got One!"

Tuesday 20th October 2020

Hello again folks! Hope you're having a good day so far! I really enjoyed writing about Monday's episode, I'm really hoping Tuesday's will be just as good. My plan was going to attempt two blog posts today but I've decided it will be a lot easier for me to do one post a night. Seeing as I'm not working on Saturday, I can write up about Friday's episode then and follow tonight's episode tomorrow. That will leave me with next week not being behind, I hope I've not annoyed any of you with this, and I apologise in advance if I have. But I just want to do the best I can with this blog and I just want let to you guys know that I am still committed to do this 100% ... life just seems to get in the way sometimes. Anyway, let's jump right into Tuesday's episode and see what's going on in Walford!

The episode starts with Phil still reeling from the recent news he's learned about Ellie. Ben is adamant that his Dad shouldn't be going in with all guns blazing, he even asks his Dad if he wants him to go along. But Phil instructs his son to get things in the house ready for a 3 year old, as not matter what, he'll be bringing Raymond home! But something tells me, it's not going to be as simple as that! Is going to be walking into a war or a trap? We already know the Ellie was to blame for Raymond's parents passing away, what is she going to do next?

At the Beale household, Ian finds Peter and informs him that he has transferred some money into his account, not just his allowance but a little extra. Is he literally buying his son's silence?! I'd like to think Peter is smarter than that, maybe in time he'll come to realise that his Dad is lying to them all. As Ian leaves, Kathy can be seen doing her make-up, getting herself ready for her date with Iain. She confides in her Grandson that she's feeling nervous, more to the fact that the fella doesn't even know her real age. Peter tells his Gran not to worry and that the date will go smoothly. Just as Peter happens to mention the word "Date" - Bobby appears and is shocked to hear that his Gran is going out to meet some stranger, but I think the main issue is that he's upset she's going outside during a pandemic and after taking precautions during lockdown, she should be careful as she's vulnerable. Something tells me that this has something to do with Bobby's OCD storyline, recently he's been constantly reminding everybody to wash their hands and be careful, I might be jumping the gun here, but are EastEnders going to make Coronavirus a storyline? Meaning, is Kathy going to catch it while going on her date and become really unwell, or will Bobby end up getting it after being incredibly careful. Who knows? I could be completely wrong, but it would be an interesting outcome, don't you guys think?!

Meanwhile, in the Vic Stacey and Kat are cleaning whilst Lily sits and watches as she's playing on her tablet. This was a very interesting conversation between Stacey and Kat. Kat just happens to mention that she saw Ruby with a designer handbag that Martin has supposedly bought her for her birthday. Stacey seems a little upset by this news and she appears jealous as she mentions that the best presents that Martin ever bought her were a CD and paint! It's the next part which Lily seems to listen really closely too, she's obviously aware that her Mum is feeling sad about Martin and Ruby being together, but to let off some steam, Stacey will shout and probably say things that she doesn't mean, it's then she mentions Ruby having "Daddy issues" and she's had them ever since her Dad saved the wrong daughter in a house fire. Lily picks up on what her Mother has said, what is she going to do with this new information?!

At the Cafe, Habiba is eager to get Ash and Iqra on side to go to court with her to support Jags. Ash reveals that Suki and Kheerat are going and everyone thought it was best if no else went. Habiba is saddened to hear that Ash isn't doing anything to save her brother. Everyone knows that Jags is innocent, but no one is willing to tell the truth. Iqra offers to go with her sister for support, Habiba accepts and they both leave to head off to court.

In the Arches, Phil is looking that he's waiting for someone, checking his watch and the clock on the wall. Suddenly, Ellie walks in, personally, I feel there's going to be some kind of row going on, but Phil plays the sympathy/guilty card. Explaining that he knows everything regarding the car crash that Raymond's parents were in. He tries to convince her that Raymond would be better off with him and his family, he'll be safer - seeing as Ellie has put her Grandson's life in danger and what's going to stop her from doing it again?! Ellie then plays dirty, she scoffs at Phil's words, informing him that she has also done her homework and found out everything about Ben, Louise and even Dennis. Phil looks a little bit defeated that he's been caught out, but then Ellie changes her tune, she admits that she can see how much Raymond means to him, and she even goes on to say that she'll let Phil have him. Phil, however, does look a bit suspicious, what's the catch?! Oh - only £150,000! Ellie announces she'll let him have Raymond for 150 grand!!! How the hell is Phil going to find that kind of money?!

Meanwhile at the restaurant, Kathy is preparing herself for her date, she takes a deep breath and turns the corner to find a - dare I say - dashing gentleman waiting at a table. He spots her and he seems really happy to see her, clearly a little nervous but ever more happy to see her turn up. As Kathy takes a seat you can see she is also nervous, mainly due to the fact that the poor man isn't aware of her real age. He makes a point about going on dates and ending up being catfished, meaning that the person who turns up doesn't turn out to be who they make out they are online. Kathy can only give a small smile, she must be feeling a little guilty, perhaps feeling that she's leading the poor guy on. Something tells me she might come clean by the end of her date, but who knows? Will it be a success?!

At the Prince Albert, Ash and Peter - surprisingly two other characters I never thought we'd see share a scene. But from what I can make out, they both have a little bit in common, Ash is wallowing her thoughts and fears about her brother going to prison for something he didn't do. Peter is also battling demons about his own Dad, wondering whether to trust him or not. They're both dealing with deep family issues right now, and it looks as if as they continue their conversation, they have some mutual understanding of each other and what the other is going through. I could be looking into something that isn't there, but do I sense a bit of flirtation as Peter offers to buy her a drink? I mean, sure, anyone can offer someone a drink without it be flirtatious, but I don't know - something told me that maybe there might've been something there. But who knows, Ash I believe is happy with Iqra, so who knows what could happen? This is EastEnders after all!

Back at the restaurant, it looks as if Kathy's date with Iain is going brilliantly! They're both giggling and enjoying each other's company. But it looks as if Iain is asking Kathy really awkward questions, questions which are having to make her lie about her family, such as Peter being her son instead of Grandson. Is she going to keep up the pretence that she's younger than what she actually is?! I mean, I said it last night, Kathy is looking fabulous at 70 and she shouldn't be afraid to be proud of her age! I think Kathy is a stunning looking woman, gorgeous hair with a beautiful dress sense, with a gorgeous smile - what's not to like? Who cares if she's 70? I hope eventually Kathy will admit the truth and hopefully Iain won't find the age-gap a big deal! Kathy deserves some happiness! Later on as they leave the restaurant together, Kathy invites Iain to the Prince Albert, things are looking great when suddenly Kathy takes a nasty tumble as she twists her ankle and falls to the floor. Ash, Peter and Bobby rush to Kathy's aid insisting that she needs to go the hospital to get herself looked at. Iain is a bit blaséabout it, saying she "Just tripped" - something you do never say when a woman falls over! In my opinion, if a woman ever falls over, people should do the decent thing and make sure she's okay - no matter what her age may be! As Peter and Ash plead Kathy to go the hospital, it's then that Peter slips up and calls her "Gran" - much to Iain's surprise, it's then that Kathy admits her real age and admits she's feeling incredibly foolish. I feel sad for Kathy at this point, everything was going so well before her nasty fall - I hope Iain will maybe look past it, but who knows? Did any of you also notice that when Bobby saw his Nan fall, he started counting, clearly to cope and calm his breathing after what he's just witnessed.

At the club, Stacey is looking for Martin, but Ruby appears to be in the middle of something with a supplier, she's refusing to sign for items she didn't order. Stacey watches on as she's being hounded by the delivery driver, surprisingly she stands up for her ex-friend and basically tells the delivery guy to do one! Ruby seems surprised that she's stood up for her, in an attempt to rekindle their friendship, she asks her friend to stay for a drink. As Stacey and Ruby are drinking, it looks as if things aren't going to be as easy as saying "Sorry!" - they are both really strong feisty females and to be fair, they have both done wrong to each other in recent months. Stacey makes the valid point that any man in Stacey's life, Ruby also seems to get her hands on - Sean, Max, Martin, but then again Ruby comes back with another valid point, that she didn't pretend to be her! It's true that they are both best friends and they're the only friend's each of them has got right now, will they be able to look past everything that's happened and move on?

Meanwhile, in the Vic, Habiba is looking absolutely heartbroken, it looks as if Jags has been sentenced to four years in prison for his attack on Martin Fowler. Habiba is devastated that her boyfriend has gone down for something he didn't do, she announces to her sister how much she hates the Panesar family for watching and doing nothing to save Jags. It's then she informs Iqra that she no longer wants Ash living with them. Is Iqra going to be forced to make a huge decision, whether to ask her girlfriend to leave or whether to move out with her girlfriend and leave Habiba alone. Back at the club, Suki and Vinny are also discussing Jags, Vinny is still adamant that he should've taken Jag's place, but Suki shrugs it off and tells him to man up, prison will be the making of Jags - apparently.

As soon as Suki leaves the club, the camera spans across and we find Stacey and Ruby again. Stacey is quick to say that she needs to get off to find Lily. But suddenly, Lily walks in admitting that she's been in the club office the whole time, both Ruby and Stacey are shocked to find her. Stacey is quick to ger home but Lily - oooh she's become such a little madam hasn't she - She's can't understand why her Mum and Ruby are now socialising? She opens her mouth and puts her Mum right in it, revealing what Stacey had said about her previously to their meeting. Stacey is horrified with her daughter, Ruby is just as shocked. It's then that Ruby begins to play the evil stepmum, she promises Lily can have a takeaway with herself and Martin whenever she likes, much to Stacey's annoyance. Stacey gives Ruby a warning, she is nothing to Lily and never will be and she warns her to stay away! Something tells me it's going to be a long time until Ruby and Stacey are friends again, something is also telling me that somehow it'll affect the children. Also I'm thinking that Lily is going to become a very twisted little girl, causing so much trouble and causing havoc in her family, ruining relationships and perhaps spreading lies about everyone. What do you guys think of the new Lily?! It's going to be quite a while to get used to, Lily was such a lovely little girl and now she's turned into such a spoilt brat!

Back at Beale household, Bobby can be seen once again cleaning extravagantly. Wearing gloves and counting the amount of times he's wiping the picture frame. Peter comes in and calls out to him, informing that their Gran has been in agony since her fall. He walks in to find vases and picture frames placed on dining room table, Bobby is breathless as he violently wipes clean every inch of the vase, counting to five as he does so. I've never been one to understand OCD, but it must be hell to live with, but then again I guess I kind of have the understanding that the people feel the need to do things until they feel completely safe. Peter looked concerned for his brother, will he confide in his Dad or Nan about what he's witnessed?!

The final scene of this episode, Phil has gotten the money together to give to Ellie. He walks in the Arches to find Ellie waiting for him, without Raymond! Ben quickly follows his Dad to see what's going on. Phil throws the duffle bag with 80 grand inside, insisting that he needs more time to get the rest. Ellie seems very unimpressed but it's only when Ben begins to plead to his Dad to not give Ellie more money that she starts to squirm. Ben makes a very good point that she could bleed Phil dry for years at the promise of getting Raymond eventually. Part of me is hoping that Phil will listen to his son, as much as Phil is desperate to be reunited with his son, he can't afford to lose all his money. He can't risk giving the money to Ellie, to then have her do a runner and not keep her word. Phil agrees with Ben and informs Ellie that she's not going to receive another penny from him! If Phil wants Raymond, he's going to do things properly with solicitors and possibly even take Ellie to court - it looks as if we've got a custody battle on our hands!!! Ooooh I am so looking forward to seeing the outcome of this! What do you guys think? Will Phil eventually be able to welcome Raymond back into his life? Or is there going to be many dark twists and turns along the way?!

Thank you guys for reading! I hope you're enjoying my blog. I'll be back tomorrow following tonight's episode! Thank you for your continued support! Enjoy the rest of your week! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #philmitchell #benmitchell #ellienixon #kathybeale #peterbeale #bobbybeale #ianbeale #ashpanesar #habibaahmed #iqraahmed #jags panesar #vinnypanesar #suki panesar #staceyslater #rubyallen #lilyslater #martinfowler #katslater

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