#it's interesting too that she tries to ask for some slack cos her dad just died | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunjaesol · 4 years

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My BFB is the one for me!

juke | human!au + brother!reggie | title from BFB // victorious

If someone had to ask her who the one constant in her life was, she would have to say Luke Patterson. Which was depressing, cause the guy went through life pretending to be a 90s heartthrob and, even worse, that list didn't even include her own mother.

Julie met Luke when she was five and he was six. Her brother Reggie befriended him on the first day of school and the rest was history. "Soul-brothers" they called themselves, which would be cute if they weren't so obnoxious together. Separate, they were somewhat manageable. Put those two in the same room? Chaos would ensue.

He was there for it all. Weekly play dates, birthdays, the occasional holiday, her mom's funeral, band rehearsals. And when Luke had a month-long falling out with his parents, he stayed with them.

Realistically, that should make him seem like a brother to Julie. But neither Carlos or Reggie were as infuriating as Luke was! With the stupid band tees and the stupid smile and the stupid, relentless teasing he lovingly bestowed upon her. She lost count how many times he "poisoned" her soda with salt or woke her with a heart attack by playing his electric guitar. At least she had some grip on her brothers, being their only sister, but Luke…

Luke and her had this interesting, little relationship that she couldn't quite put her finger on and it unnerved her. Like it was an itch she couldn't scratch. (Or maybe he was just an annoying mosquito buzzing around her and should leave her the fuck alone. Probably.)

Hopping down the stairs for her midnight snack, it was no surprise to her to find the idiot gaping into the fridge like a goon. With a nudge of the hip, she pushed him aside.

'Hey!'

'Either pick something or save power,' she retorted, grabbing a bowl of grapes.

He snorted. 'I don't think my indecisiveness is gonna kill the planet.'

She shot him a look, an amused smile tugging on her lips. 'You wanna say that in the cute face of a polar bear?'

Luke stared at her for a beat, a smile crawling on his own face and shaking his head with a chuckle. The fridge fell shut with the pride of a won argument swelling in her chest.

'So why're you still up?', he asked as she flitted around him for the bread and peanut butter. Maybe she could sneak up a butterscotch cookie too - her dad won't notice one missing, right?

Unscrewing the lid, she sighed. 'Mendoza's class is murdering me. I really don't get why we need to learn calculus. We're an arts school, not like any of us are going to use formulas on the set of a movie.'

When she passed him to get the orange juice from the fridge, he took hold of the jar, sliding it between his hands thoughtfully.

'Just don't overthink it,' he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. 'Easy for you, obviously.'

His mouth fell slack, offended, as Julie put the bottle on the island with mirth glimmering in her expression. After years of sparring with Luke, she knew how to press his buttons and took great joy in doing so.

Suddenly leaning into her personal bubble, he sputtered. 'Are you… calling me dumb?'

Her hand pushed his face back with a scoff. 'Don't breathe on me. All I'm saying is that you look like you have elevator music playing up there 24/7.'

When she went to grab the jar from his hand, he moved it away.

'Uh, I think you're mistaking me for your brother.'

'No-' Tried again, moved away. '-I don't think I do.'

'You do.'

She crossed her arms, resolute. 'He's part of the gifted program.'

It unfazed him. 'Yeah. And it means shit.'

She held her palm up, exasperated. 'Just give me the peanut butter, Luke.'

Raising it over his head with an infuriating smirk, the other tugged on a curl. 'No.'

Gah! He was so dead! Did he forget she lived with three men in this house?!

Without a second of hesitation, Julie barrelled into him and jumped to catch it. Luke snatched her wrist before she could with a laugh, a hitched puff coming right after as her elbow jabbed his ribs.

He set the jar down at lightning speed and grabbed her other wrist. Both their arms were outstretched as her foot kicked his calf, hard. When he yelped, her left hand loosened and dove for the jar. Right as her fingertips grazed the glass, a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back. An "oof!" left her lips, the breath kicked out of her lungs.

Luke guffawed in her ear victoriously, whooping the house together. Curse words rolled off her tongue as she repeatedly slapped his forearm to let go. She felt embarrassingly small with her feet hovering above the floor and this power dynamic was not doing it for her confidence.

'The fuck are you doing?'

Julie smacked to the floor before the last words were uttered, a flabbergasted Reggie staring at the pair.

Luke stammered. 'Uh…'

'Your bestie held the peanut butter hostage,' Julie replied sardonically. 'Did dad wake up?'

He shook his head, a peculiar expression fixed on Luke. Her gaze shot between the two. Were they having… a silent conversation? With the way their brows quirked an lips twitched, it seemed like some "bro-talk" Julie wouldn't even like to understand.

'Don't break your head too much over Mendoza, okay?' Reggie added, smiling at her this time. 'Just relax.'

She sighed. Relax. Because the fear of failure got eradicated with the snap of a finger if she just relaxed. 'Yeah. Sure.'

The boys finally left, silence descended, and Julie made her sandwich. For some reason, the quietude made her uncomfortable.

***

Though Luke was annoying at times, the band he was in - Sunset Curve - definitely wasn't. Reggie, Alex and Luke created it when they were thirteen and overzealous. Reggie and Luke met Alex the same year and bullied him into a friendship, all bonding over cliché lyrics and overused chord progressions. They quickly got better though, earning a small following and a hopeful future in the LA scene. Julie was very proud of her brother. All those hours practicing the bass until his fingers bled was finally paying off with each new gig they rocked.

And as the Molina's were raised to appreciate good music, Julie often found herself sprawled on the leather couch as they rehearsed. Reggie used to hate it, saying she was being "sticky" and "distracting", but eventually found her useful whenever they needed someone to bounce ideas with. She has co-written many of their songs. It was then that Luke was the least annoying, when he was so entranced and passionate about music that he had no time to pester her.

(If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that song-writing with Luke was when she felt like herself the most, enjoyed life the most. But Luke was stupid and she definitely didn't feel a vibe when they wrote, so honesty was obsolete.)

'Or else you'll get,' Luke growled in the mic, music crashing together in their signature punk-rock sound. 'Crooked teeth!'

They shot into an electrifying interlude. Alex headbanging the sweat of his forehead from his fast-paced drumming, Reggie bouncing in his heels as he heightened the bassline and Luke… was being Luke. Julie looked up from her laptop as his strumming came closer, that signature grin fixed on her as his fingers expertly glided across the neck. Her typing paused, amused.

Why was he so adamant about "impressing" her with a riff? He knew she liked their music (and has caught her looking at his hands… ugh, fourteen year old Julie had bad judgement), he didn't have to prove himself or something.

She smiled. 'You're going to miss your cue, idiot!'

Ignoring her exclaim, he bobbed his head to the melody and wiggled his brows. Her eyes drifted to Alex, the blonde staring at Reggie and Reggie staring at the back of Luke's head. This has been happening a lot, Julie realised. There was this weird energy whenever they were all in the same room. For a bit, she thought it was her that was the problem, but if she was, Reggie would've told her by now.

Now Luke was really in her face, pushing her laptop shut with his knee and making those stupid expressions he pulled whenever Grace talked to him in the hallway. Never one to back down, Julie abruptly stood up and pushed him back with a challenging smirk. The boy was seventeen; he was in serious trouble if he lacked the spatial awareness and common sense.

‘Sing with us?!’, he pleaded over the crash of the cymbal. Behind him, Alex’ brows went so far up it disappeared into his snapback. A nervous tug knotted in her stomach at his request, like she was afraid to disappoint him, and shook her head. Keeping up the attitude she nodded at the laptop he so valiantly closed for her.

Pulling it against her chest, she pointed at his bandmates. ‘Go sing about some fucked up teeth more!’

‘Crooked teeth!’, they all yelled in annoyance. Proud to have executed her role an irritating, little sister, she hopped out the studio. If she felt someone’s gaze burning in her back, she must’ve imagined it.

***

There was something to be said about Grace and Luke. Though it wasn’t Julie’s business (or anyone’s, for that matter), the coupling has always intrigued her. Or lack of coupling, really. Every few months they’d find themselves at each other’s lockers flirting up a storm for everyone to see to then ghost each other again. This vicious cycle has been on loop since sophomore year. Julie felt bad for Grace, the pretty senior girl deserved far better than Luke.

Last night, Julie couldn’t sleep. “Crooked Teeth” was blaring in her mind and haunted her dreams (and Luke’s stupid face) until she woke up in a sweat. Something was off. Like solving a math question and knowing the result is wrong but unsure where it all went wrong. Around four in the morning, it hit her. The bridge! It was all jumbled and clunky and she had far better ideas on how to craft it! She sat at her keyboard until seven in the morning, only to stop when a frustrated Carlos barged in, threw a pillow at her and yelled to “zip it!” Reggie and dad, naturally, slept through all of it.

Now, a sleep-deprived, caffeinated and kind of manic Julie was bustling through the hallways trying (and failing) to find Luke. Sure, they butted heads a lot, but music has always been the glue. Temporary glue, but the fact remained that she and Luke were cut from the same cloth when it came to composition and lyrical prowess. (Not that she’d ever admit that. Ew. His ego was large enough as is.)

And then she saw him. At Grace’s locker. Her breath lodged in her throat at the sight. It shouldn’t. God, it truly shouldn’t. But it did. Because Grace was pretty and Luke had one of those faces and they looked good together and it annoyed the fuck out of her. Like, who decided who went through puberty better. Julie knew she wasn’t unattractive, but she wasn’t Grace either. Tall and lithe and glossy black hair and a perfect nose. The ugly, green monster in the back of her head snarled about how her personality was probably off-putting, though Julie knew that to be untrue. Grace was, well, graceful. Genuinely kind. Gah! Since when did Julie hate on other girls? Pushing the voice down, she mustered back the previous excitement (the! bridge!) and paraded towards the pair. Luke saw her before Grace did.

She rushed the last few steps and hastily grabbed the papers from the side pocket of her backpack. 'Luke! Hi, Grace. Okay, I know "Crooked Teeth" is finished, but I couldn't stop thinking about it and I had this amazing idea for the bridge.'

When he didn't react for a beat, stunned by her giddy attitude, her smile mellowed awkwardly. 'I mean… it's your song. You don't have to-'

'No!', he shouted, frantic. Her brows raised in surprise. 'No, uh-' His hand flew to the back of his head, raking the ends of his hair. 'Yeah. D'you wanna go to the music room? To show me?'

Julie’s eyes flitted to a confused Grace. ‘Um…’

Luke caught on and shot the girl an easy grin. ‘Talk to you later, yeah?’

She shrugged. ‘I guess?’

Before she could say anything more, Luke snatched Julie by the wrist and dragged her to the nearest, open music room. The arts school was littered with them, though most had a reserved schedule. Luckily, one was empty.

‘Okay,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears as she slid down in front of the piano. Luke sat next to her, expectant. ‘The bridge right now? It’s fine, but it’s not “wow”, you know? I was thinking about how the verses and chorus sound so visceral and loud, so the bridge should have something guttural. Like, primal. That’s a weird word to use, but, I don’t know, have it sound dangerous? Like - why’re you looking at me like that?’

A strange expression was plastered on Luke’s face. A half-grin and wide eyes, like he was scared he’d miss something, like he’d blink and she’d disappear. In other words: he looked insane. Then again, her exhaustion mustn’t look too appealing either.

He shook his head, that smile falling away for something more timid. All the bravado he oozed while talking to Grace just moments before, was gone for shy eyes and fingers gripping the chain around his jeans.

‘Nothing.’ He nudged her. ‘You kinda ambushed me here, Molina.’

Her words stuttered out. ‘I- I was just-’ Zeroing back on the keys with a frown, she said: ‘I’ll just play you the bridge.’

As she did, her mind was elsewhere. This wasn’t weird, right? They’ve done this before. Collaborated, gone to music rooms to bounce ideas back and forth, played until dusk. She knew it wasn’t weird. It was always just a matter of time before the next “ambush” came, as he put it. Soon, he’d barge into her room with half a melody and forced her to finish it. This was normal.

Then why did her skin ripple with anticipation from his intense gaze directed on her temple?

When she finished, she kept her eyes on the keys. Suddenly, his hand appeared in her vision and softly patted her knuckles, urging her to look at him anyway. He had that strange look again, the sight letting the most peculiar feeling rush through her veins.

Luke smiled. ‘I like it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Wanna play it for the boys during next rehearsal?’ His brows raised with hope, head leaning her way as if he wasn’t already close enough. And he wasn’t close enough.

Julie went on autopilot at this point, too enthralled by her emotions running wild. ‘Yeah.’ It came out breathy and foolish and if she had half a brain cell right now, she’d kick herself in the face for how dumb she sounded.

His hand squeezed hers and then let go, that smile turning nervous. Oh God, did he notice how weird she abruptly got? ‘Cool. Sweet. Perfect. Your- this was perfect. I’ll see you, uh, -’

‘Yeah,’ she squeaked. ‘Whenever.’

When he left the room in a hurry, her face planted itself on the keys and erupted a harsh sound. Fitting, she believed. Her mind was a mess too.

***

Then stuff began piling on and each time it did, Julie’s heart fluttered like the traitorous bitch it was.

Like when Luke told her to tell calculus to “bite her” as a joke, but then she actually did during a test and somehow didn’t get a black out. She knew it was likely just a placebo, but the grin she earned later on when she showed him the B+ and he gave her the tightest hug was worth the pseudo-science.

Or he found her in the hallway whenever they both had a free period and casual small talk turned to slamming each other into lockers or, more recently, pulled her outside to get boba from the place right across the street. Their boba hangouts were probably the strangest development of all, but it was… nice. Pleasant. If she ever secretly thought it was a date, then it must’ve been a sun stroke hitting her.

Or she’d be doing her homework and he’d waltz into her room (because he was always at their house and that never changed) and randomly help her with a task or question. It was small and it usually slowed her down, but she hasn’t had the guts to turn him away either. She blamed his stupid smile.

Or just yesterday they were all in the kitchen and she was peering over Reggie’s shoulder as he tried and failed to properly text his crush Kayla, when she said:

‘Isn’t that weird? That you’re talking to a junior?’

Luke, who was looking over his other shoulder, scoffed. ‘Why would that be weird?’

Pointing at the emoji he should be using (the purple heart - duh!), she shrugged. ‘I don’t know. You just don’t see a lot of people date outside of their year. It’s, like, an unspoken rule.’

Reggie pouted. ‘Not helping, Jules.’

‘I am! Use the purple heart!’

Luke snorted. ‘Please, if you were asked out by some senior boy, you’d say no?’

The Molina’s looked up from the phone to shoot him a weird look. The boy shrunk under their stare, fingers nervously drumming island.

Caution tinged her voice. ‘I don’t know… should I?’

The boys stared at each other for a beat. That “bro-talk” again, Julie presumed with a roll of the eye. Typical.

‘Yes,’ Luke trailed, unsure. ‘You should say no.’

A ball of disappointment dropped to the pit of her stomach at his words - hard. Oh. So he didn’t mean himself then. Julie froze. Why would she even want that? She was not returning to her fourteen year old self that gawked at Luke like an idiot. Nope. Not happening. Just because she felt flushed and ecstatic every Wednesday afternoon when they schedules lined up, that didn’t mean her crush has resurfaced. Totally.

But then something even more maddening happened. It was Thursday afternoon, right before lunch, when Nick approached her by her locker. She’d been fervently texting a sick Flynn to get better when he started asking about dance class and how on earth he was supposed to master a calypso by Monday next week. He was clearly stressed and Julie gave him a hug. Just as she was going to offer her help (or redirect him to Kayla, as she was an actual dance goddess), a familiar arm draped around her shoulder and pulled her back.

Julie was fuming. Luke decided to start acting like some jovial prick as he intimidated Nick with all these terror stories about his own dance assignments from last year and that “a calypso was just the beginning.” The poor guy was practically passed out from anxiety by the time his spiel was over. She couldn’t even yell an apology as he sped off and spun around the corner at lightning speed.

The arm fell away, Luke stared at her ridden with guilt, muttered some half-assed “sorry” and rushed off in the opposite direction. A baffled, angry Julie was left standing there.

If Luke thought he could be some white knight, he was dead wrong.

***

She got lucky. Reggie mentioned beforehand Luke was coming over and knew that he, inevitably, would ascend the stairs. A pent-up Julie paced in her room, feeling that fever pitch come to a boiling point. Argh! Why was he so… infuriating?! (And attractive?! And charismatic?! Argh!)

Then she heard it. His tentative steps up the steps. Like he knew. The fact that she was seemingly predictable left her cold this time, slamming her door open at just the right moment to snatch his wrist and roughly yank him inside.

Before he could react, she yelled: 'What the hell, Luke?! Why did you do that?'

Luke was a stammering, embarrassed mess. Good. 'Uh- I- I-'

'You can't just act all overprotective or possessive like that! What's your problem with Nick? He's super nice and, you know, my friend. I already have two brothers, I don’t need one more!’

'I-'

'You don't get to decide who I talk with! Or save me or whatever fantasy you were living in! And-!'

'I like you, Jules,' he blurted.

Julie was blazing though. 'So? That doesn't mean that-' Until the words dried on her tongue, stunned. All else she had prepared to say flew out the window. The constant fluttering in her heart hitched. Did she… hear him correctly? 'W-what?'

A beat went by, like he couldn’t believe he actually said that, but then word vomit spewed out. 'I- I like you? Like, on and off since I was eleven and I tried to not like you - I really tried - but you're just incredible and pretty and an amazing singer and you keep doing that thing with your lips when you have a thought and it's been killing me seeing Nick shoot his shot and-'

Julie dove forward and pressed a kiss on his rambling mouth. Stretched on her tippy toes, she saw him freeze and stare at her in wonder. Slowly, her poor heart began to beat again, fast and fond and for him and oh my God, what was happening?

'Did you just-', he croaked.

Shit. Should she have asked to kiss him first? Her hands didn't leave his shoulders, alarmed. 'Uh… you just kept talking and-' She swallowed back her nerves and mustered a smile. 'If you wanted to be my boyfriend, you could've just asked.'

Luke blinked, completely in awe by her words. 'What?'

Alright. Time to take life by the balls, Molina.

'You didn't think I might like you back?'

An incredulous laugh puffed from his lips, looking from her hands on his shoulders and then grabbed onto her waist. Jitters burst in her stomach at the sudden touch. This was actually happening. Holy shit. But God, how could she deny that bright smile and his warm smile and that giddy feeling that rippled her skin each time they hung out?

'Can we try that again?', he breathed.

His grin captured hers before she could fully nod, his hands slipping to her lower back and jaw without hesitation. Her arms slung around his neck, finally getting a feel for his soft locks of hair. Heat grew from her chest to her toes, curling from bliss. She felt deliciously empty and full of glee all at once.

Her back fell against the door with a giggle. Just as he went back in, she pressed a finger on his lips.

'Still doesn't make it right what you did.'

'Yeah.' He kissed her again. 'Sorry.'

She tried saying more, but each word was muffled by another warm kiss of his intoxicating lips and all she could do was melt against him. The odd lyric that “heaven was his lips and larger than paradise” passed her by, hopefully reminding her of its existence in an hour or two.

His fingers slipped under her shirt and dug into her heated skin. They became lazier, the kisses open-mouthed and smiling and already so amazing at first try. Julie has kissed a handful of boys before, but this? Unmatched.

Two sudden knocks against wood. ‘Julie?’

They froze, Julie slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his inevitable snicker.

‘Have you seen Luke?’, Reggie continued, confusion lacing his voice.

‘No!’, her voice squeaked, still affected by their make-out. Cringing, she tried to level it. ‘Uh, maybe he’s gone to the, uh-’ His lips grazed her neck, teasingly. She pinched his arm, but he didn’t lean back. Asshole. ‘-uh…’

‘Julie? Everything okay?’

‘Yeah! Yeah! I’m fine!’ Julie pushed Luke back again, this time the boy giving her some space. The wolfish smirk he was sporting was one she either wanted to slap or kiss away. ‘Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Annoying Carlos? The studio?’ Not my room!

They held in their breaths as they waited for a reply. Her mind was failing to catch up to what she’s just done. Here she was, with flushed lips and tingling skin from Luke’s actions as her brother was meandering on the other side of the door. How did she end up here?

He blew a raspberry. ‘Okay…’ They sighed. ‘When you’re done making out, can you force Luke to start our project? Kind of an important assignment.’

Luke’s face crashed into pure horror, mouth falling agape and skin pale as a ghost. Julie snorted despite herself, dropping her head on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle her giggles but failing horribly. Of course, Reggie knew. His dreamy nature made anyone forget how observant he actually was, yet here he instantly he had his pulse on the facts. Or he’s always known about Luke’s crush on her. Probably both.

Her smile stretched against the fabric of his shirt. Luke had a crush on her. Luke liked her.

Reggie’s footsteps faded away, his bedroom door falling shut. Their gazes met again.

Luke gulped, green eyes wide and oh so adorable. ‘He took that surprisingly well.’

Her chin raised, haughty. She hasn’t forgotten about that infuriating face of his just one minute before. ‘You kissed my neck.’

That look returned as he hummed, edging closer. ‘I did.’

‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’

His face brightened at her words, weaving a hand through her and making her sigh just like that. She was gone and she didn’t even know it. ‘And you’re-’ he murmured, softly kissing her lips, ‘-into that.’

How desperately she wanted to keep this going, she has heard what Reggie said. An important project due. She shouldn’t trouble her brother like that, even if making out with his best friend was far more appealing than anything else in the world right now.

The measly words puffed out. ‘You have-’ kiss ‘-a project-’ kiss ‘-with Reggie.’ kiss.

‘Hmm…’ Letting her stand between his legs to be even closer and consequently shutting down any rationale, Luke mumbled against her lips: ‘One more minute.’

In the end, Luke stayed for another thirty minutes before Reggie barged in, dragged the boy from Julie’s bed by the collar and wordlessly trucked back out the room. When later that night she received a text saying goodnight jules 💙 she knew she hadn’t been dreaming.

And when Luke kissed her square on the lips the next day for everyone to see, Julie had inkling this interesting, little relationship of theirs was the just the beginning.

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @sophiphi @ourstarscollided

#jatp fanfiction #juke #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

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beca-mitchell · 5 years

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you are my favorite thing (1/1)

Summary: Beca and Chloe find themselves alone in their apartment after the instruction comes to self-isolate. Set pre-PP3. Just pretend PP3 doesn’t exist.

Notes: Apologies for this fic. It stuck with me...and I had to write it before it drove me crazy. I know it's not that good but hopefully it brings a small smidge of levity to your lives. <3 I promise I'm working on other stuff, just haven't been feeling well lately.

Word count: 3.1k

Rated M/E.

Read below or on AO3.

When the announcement came that it would be in everybody’s best interest to self-quarantine and self-isolate, Beca hadn’t really known what to expect. In fact, she feels kind of bad for not taking this more seriously and leaving Chloe to pick up the slack. Chloe, who had been almost zealously preparing for the “worst to come” by her standards.

And now, apparently the CDC’s standards.

With the rampant news updates and social media seemingly tearing itself apart at the seams, Beca kind of wishes she had picked a career that required her to be on her computer less but now as she lugs her two laptops and three pairs of headphones home from the label’s head office in midtown, she supposes that she has no choice.

“Oh good, you’re home,” Chloe says upon seeing her. She reaches out automatically to help Beca with her bags as Beca belabours the fact that they live on the fourth floor of their walk-up. She tries to smile gratefully at Chloe, but Chloe is already pacing across the small kitchen space in front of her.

“No welcome home?” Beca jokes. She shrugs off her blazer and moves towards the rack of clothes so she can hang it up neatly. Chloe quickly places a hand on her chest but before Beca has a chance to squawk indignantly at Chloe’s hand placement (Beca totally doesn’t think it’s nice or whatever...because she doesn’t care), Chloe stares at her seriously.

“Do we have enough groceries?”

“Did you eat all the groceries from two days ago?” Beca asks, confused. She turns on her heel to open the fridge to check. “Nope, we literally have all the food that we still haven’t eaten.”

Chloe slumps, moving to sit at the table instead. “Sorry, it’s just been super hectic today. I know we just went to get stuff, but my parents are stressing me out so much.”

Beca smiles sympathetically. “I get it, my dad was messaging me all day today. I told him it would be fine. It’s just a matter of waiting it out.” Beca injects some optimism into her tone. “Plus, Amy isn’t around this weekend so…” she trails off hoping Chloe will understand.

Chloe brightens. “Trashy television night?”

Internally Beca groans, but the smile on her face is genuine because it’s worth it to see Chloe smile.

— — — — —

So the whole having a crush on your captain/co-captain/best friend/bedmate thing?

Kind of overrated. Beca’s over it—or she wants to be over it.

She wants to stop thinking about how nice Chloe’s smile is or how effortlessly Chloe can lift her when she overenthusiastically hugs Beca.

Or how ridiculously happy Chloe makes her.

All those dumb things and dumb feelings that she never really felt to any extreme or significant levels with Jesse. And definitely not that one night stand after her break-up with Jesse.

It’s just that Chloe had somehow always been there, somehow slipping through the cracks and all the crevices of Beca’s carefully constructed walls—places that Beca didn’t even know were available to fall victim to Chloe’s special brand of love and care.

But if there’s one thing that Beca has come to love about Chloe, it is exactly that care—that specific way Chloe somehow makes her feel like she’s the most cherished person in a room. In the world, maybe.

It’s gross and cheesy.

Beca loves it.

It just kind of sucks that all of this pondering—all the pondering the world, maybe—wasn’t enough for Beca to be wary of what it would mean to be stuck twenty-four-seven in an enclosed space with the girl she’s in love with.

— — — — —

With how busy their lives have been, Beca realizes with a pang in her heart that she really hasn’t had time to just sit down with Chloe and just be. It’s Tuesday and after a weekend spent just catching up with Chloe and meal-prepping for the rest of the week, Beca realizes that this whole situation could be a lot worse.

I’ve missed you, is what she wants to say.

Like most things when it comes to her feelings for Chloe, it just sticks inside her head instead and she settles on saying good morning to Chloe.

“It feels weird,” Chloe admits, sitting down next to Beca on Tuesday morning. She scoots her chair closer to press her cheek against Beca’s shoulder.

Beca scrolls lazily through her social media feeds, a habit she picked up from Chloe. Naturally, her body turns into the warmth offered by Chloe’s close proximity. “What feels weird?”

Chloe sighs. It is a large enough sigh to shift Beca’s shoulder as Chloe moves against her. “Not having work.”

Unlike Beca who was permitted to work from home, Chloe’s supervisor suggested that she just take some time off. It wasn’t like Chloe was really being paid a lot to begin with, as a temporary veterinary assistant, but Beca knows that the blow must be hard on both the financial and emotional level.

“You can be my assistant for the day,” Beca suggests. “I have to finish finalizing a few tracks on this album. You can give me feedback. It’ll just be like the old days. Just, um, don’t tell anybody about it. And no posting on social media.”

Chloe immediately brightens at that, like Beca just offered her the entire world on a silver platter. The kiss that she presses to Beca’s cheek is absolutely worth it.

— — — — —

Chloe is, as Beca has always known, incredibly attentive. She also has no real concept of personal space.

Beca knows however, that if she had bothered to say anything to Chloe about that, Chloe would have backed off years ago, but Beca kind of likes that it’s their thing. Kind of.

So when Chloe leans right over her shoulder to watch her work, Beca says nothing.

Whatever.

This is way better than being stuck in an office.

— — — — —

“Hey,” Chloe says, drawing Beca’s eyes up from her screen. “I’m just going to shower, do you mind.”

Beca shakes her head, no, because she doesn’t mind. Chloe lives here too. Chloe can totally walk around half-naked if she wants. She’s confident about all that. Chloe can toss a towel over her shoulder and hum to herself. Chloe can squeeze Beca’s shoulder in affection. Chloe can step into their dingy bathtub, draw back the curtain and proceed to strip off all her clothes in front of Beca—almost quite literally—and just shower a few feet away from where Beca is accidentally deleting an important layer in her audio editing program.

Chloe can do whatever she wants because Beca and Chloe are roommates and that’s what roommates do.

— — — — —

Chloe doesn’t need to shower every day, Beca’s sure of it.

She’s not really complaining. It’s not like she can even see anything, though the reappearance of her rather vivid sex dreams about Chloe on Thursday night is alarming.

But honestly, Beca’s not really complaining even though she hundred percent moves her seat at the kitchen table on Friday so her back is towards the shower.

She thinks Chloe pouts at her on the way to her shower, but Beca’s too busy renaming arbitrary files on her computer to really pay attention to that.

— — — — —

It’s crazy that it is in these circumstances that Beca is really truly considering that she should just tell Chloe how she feels. It’s just hard, wanting to kiss Chloe all the time. It’s hard because they’re really and truly alone and Beca has nothing to do but stare at Chloe’s stupidly perfect face and her lips and she has to see her sweet smile.

It’s gross. Beca’s gross.

(It also doesn’t help that sometimes she catches Chloe staring back—with the same degree of affection to boot. The same care, affection, and desire in her eyes that Beca knows must be shooting out of her own like fucking spotlights.

But she supposes that she could be imagining it too.)

“Beca?” Chloe asks. “Are you watching?”

Chloe’s voice cuts through Beca’s thoughts gently. Beca gazes up at Chloe who has not moved her attention from the screen. She takes the moment to genty observe the curve of Chloe’s nose. The fullness of her lips. The way her lips gently part as she expels a breath.

“Yeah,” Beca says before slowly dragging her eyes back to the screen with some reluctance.

She’s fucked.

— — — — —

Beca Dude where are you

Fat Amy At a friend’s place, don’t wait up xoxoxo

Beca What???? Come home now Amy?????

— — — — —

“Remember college and how I said I wish I experimented more?”

Beca chokes on her water.

“N...yes? Why?” Beca demands, ignoring the way her heart races. Being in close proximity to Chloe tends to do that to her. Nothing new.

Chloe hums to herself. “Nothing. Just lots of time to think today.”

“Oh,” Beca says. “Okay.” She quickly refocuses on her work.

Chloe sighs and returns to her textbook.

— — — — —

Beca blames the long, extended time spent inside. She kind of forgets that they had dinner plans. Or that she probably should have sent that email to her boss.

It’s so easy to forget that they’ve been confined to their apartment for days, but Beca can’t complain.

Mostly because Chloe’s tongue is in her mouth doing absolutely sinful things.

And well—now they’re kind of tumbling onto their deeply uncomfortable but satisfactory for the moment bed, Beca grunting as her back hits the mattress heavily.

“Sorry,” Chloe pants out, drawing back. “Are you—”

“M’fine,” Beca mumbles, pulling Chloe back down for a kiss. Chloe responds eagerly, not-at-all minding that she had been cut off. Instead, she makes a happy little sound, curving her body neatly into Beca’s. The warmth of Chloe’s body on top of her own is driving Beca crazy—that and the distinct lack of friction between her own legs. “Wait,” Beca says, after pushing lightly at Chloe’s shoulders. “Wait—can you—”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “What is it?”

“Just…clothes,” Beca mumbles.

“Oh!” Chloe grins then. “So forward.”

Beca’s cheeks heat up spectacularly. She both loves and hates that Chloe can still tease her like this, even though they’ve both completely eviscerated whatever fragile lines they had set up in their already-confusing friendship.

Chloe, ever the master of making Beca feel many things at once, doesn’t stop there, however. She smiles, leans back—sits all the way upright for Beca’s viewing pleasure—and pulls off her shirt in a smooth motion that makes Beca’s mouth go dry.

Then, when Beca thinks that it can’t get worse…

“I like it when you’re forward,” Chloe murmurs, leaning back down to cup Beca’s cheeks before kissing her so thoroughly and deeply that Beca thinks she might soak through her jeans completely.

Speaking of her jeans—

Beca whimpers into Chloe’s mouth when she feels Chloe’s thumbs expertly popping open the button on her jeans before Chloe is pulling away again to slide the offending material down her legs. Beca scrambles to sit upright so she can pull off her shirt quickly.

It is all pent-up urgency and flying clothes as Chloe climbs back over her, all messy hair and flawless skin, and pulls her into another sweeping kiss. It ought to be illegal, the way Chloe’s tongue flicks through her mouth, desperately seeking out Beca’s. Chloe somehow has made making out a high-level art form and Beca is only all too willing to pay full price for admission to that particular show.

Beca has imagined this, she would be remiss if she weren’t going to admit it right off the bat. It is just difficult reconciling her imagination with this reality because the reality is making Beca’s imagination look very, very weak.

Chloe’s arms come around her, pressing against the mattress before Chloe is rolling them all at once. Beca groans, moving to straddle Chloe which proves to be a mistake, somewhat, because suddenly she can feel the ripple of Chloe’s stomach—damn abs—right against her soaked center. She bites her lip, leaning back slightly and watching with rapt attention as Chloe follows, folding Beca into her arms again.

“I want you so much,” Chloe rasps, voice hot and low against Beca’s neck. “Like, right now.”

Have me, Beca wants to say. I’m yours.

A whole slew of clichés float through Beca’s mind, but all she manages is a guttural moan because Chloe chooses that mount to eagerly palm Beca’s stiff nipple while sucking a nasty hickey into the side of her neck.

“Was that a yes?” Chloe murmurs.

“Fuck yes,” Beca grits out, holding Chloe’s head against her as Chloe’s kisses descend lower so she can envelop Beca’s neglected nipple in her mouth. The sensation of Chloe’s lips, her tongue, the graze of her teeth—all of it right against Beca’s sensitive flesh.

— — — — —

So how that happened is kind of a long story and it might or might not be Beca’s fault.

The short story is that Chloe wanted to watch a movie and Beca had agreed because movie nights with Chloe usually meant cuddling.

But strange times call for unexpected occurrences, though upon reflection, the build-up had been there all along.

(Literally. For years.)

Beca just didn’t really expect the whole making out thing. And the sex thing.

Oh—

And the whole ‘watching Chloe sleep next to her while she runs her fingers through beautiful red hair to calm herself down because her heart is threatening to burst out of her heart’ thing.

That thing.

— — — — —

“You’re horrible at picking up signals,” is the first thing Chloe says to her when Beca wakes up on a bright and sunny Saturday morning.

“I am,” Beca agrees, rolling into Chloe’s body with no intention of going outside ever again. “But maybe you’re horrible at dropping hints.”

“Maybe,” Chloe murmurs, breath hot against Beca’s mouth.

— — — — —

“So this is week two,” Beca says in the most dramatic voice she can muster. She grins at Chloe’s little delighted giggle as she pulls the sheets over both of their heads. It is early Monday and Beca’s phone has been on silent pretty much all weekend. She and Chloe pretty much only left the bed to shower and eat, both of which were activities that could be pleasantly underscored by sex.

“It is week two,” Chloe echoes, pulling Beca in for a slow, muted kiss. It reminds Beca of the kiss Chloe had woken her up with after their first time—the mild disorientation had faded away quickly.

“Whatever shall we do?”

— — — — —

Beca thinks that morning sex absolutely should be part of her regular routine—no matter the circumstances.

Chloe trails gentle fingers down Beca’s neck, between her breasts. Beca waits with heavy breaths, watching Chloe’s progress as she maps out invisible lines on Beca’s body, like an artist at work. Beca clenches her hands into fists, resisting the urge to pull Chloe into another messy kiss. She kind of likes this slower pace—this care and attention bestowed upon her. Chloe’s eyes are incredibly blue as they track over Beca’s body carefully, like she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

“You’re so…” Chloe trails off, sighing happily as she presses lazy kisses around the curve of Beca’s breast before leaning up to suck gently at her nipple. A familiar sensation now, Beca’s back still arches obediently as her breathing quickens.

She doesn’t need Chloe to finish her sentence. She just needs Chloe to continue whatever she’s doing. Naturally, Chloe settles between her legs after a few more torturous minutes of lavishing attention on Beca’s chest. Beca’s hips rock up impatiently, almost of their own accord. She is wholly aware of how uncomfortably wet she is and she knows she’s going to need another shower, but she doesn’t care about that at the moment. The ache between her legs only intensifies when Chloe’s fingers finally make their way to her aching clit.

“Oh fuck,” Beca mumbles. She slowly moves her hand to tangle her hand in Chloe’s hair, needing to feel Chloe closer on all accounts. She spreads her legs wider to accommodate her lover, heaving a breath when Chloe shifts closer still and leans up to press a kiss against Beca’s neck delicately.

“I think I love seeing you like this the most,” Chloe murmurs.

“Like—how?” Beca squeaks out when Chloe’s fingers press down more firmly against her clit. A soft whine escapes her lips.

“This. Spread open. For me.”

Chloe says that like it is the most natural thing she could say to Beca. She says it like she is simply discussing a reading assignment or that she thinks Beca should add another layer of harmonies.

Not at all like she's describing exactly how much Beca wants her; how wet she is; how much she needs Chloe between her legs before she combusts.

Beca pulls Chloe in for a messy kiss, already aching for Chloe’s tongue in her mouth. Chloe indulges her for a few moments, sweeping her fingers through her wet folds. Up, down. Around.

Beca cries out, muffled against Chloe’s mouth. She rips herself away from their kiss. “Chloe, please. Fuck me.”

Chloe grins and leans back in to nip at her lower lip gently. “I thought I was?”

Beca groans in frustration. Fucking tease. She tightens her legs around Chloe’s waist, moving her hips so that Chloe’s fingers almost slip inside her. At the sensation, her head falls back and she lets out a broken whimper.

“Oh,” Chloe murmurs. “You meant like this.” Chloe gently pushes a finger past her folds and Beca clenches hard around it. Chloe begins a slow rhythm, curling her finger every now and then. “And like this.”

It is such a slow, steady pace that Beca has no real reason to complain. Uncomfortably, her neck arches. She reaches down to grip at Chloe’s wrist with a trembling hand, but she does not stop her. “More,” she whimpers. Begs. “Please, baby, more.”

Chloe seems to perk up at the pet name (or the begging—Beca thinks she should do more research; she can absolutely do more research with all the time in the world at her disposal) and to her credit, she listens to Beca for once. She picks up the pace, this time adding a second finger to join the first. Beca grunts at the fullness, blinking up at the ceiling for a brief moment before she squeezes her eyes shut only to see stars explode behind her eyelids. She grunts again, louder, slackening her grip on Chloe’s wrist. Automatically, her hand drifts to her momentarily-neglected clit and she rubs at it with as much pressure as she dares.

Chloe growls—full-on growls—and nips at her throat before using her free hand to move Beca’s hand out of the way. “I want to,” is all she says when Beca opens her eyes, ready to demand Chloe explain herself.

Oh.

Well, if Chloe wants to do that, Beca isn’t going to stop her. They’ve got weeks to figure it out.

— — — — —

Beca Amy, nvm, you should probably stay exactly where you are Just to be safe yknow thanks

fin.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #anna kendrick #brittany snow #pitch perfect #its dumb i know #au #gif #my fanfic #mine #queue #mine:au

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leupagus · 5 years

Text

you will miss the green and the woods and streams

A Schitt’s Creek AU thing I wrote for @broadlybrazen, which boils down to “lol what if Schitt’s Creek had been Schitt Records can you imagine.”

You’re welcome/I’m sorry.

***

“Okay, but why are you making me do this.” David doesn’t ask, because it’s not a question; it’s a declaration, something he’s learned in the long years since he and Stevie were coworkers, then friends, then — something, almost, not quite — and now they’re people who drag each other to shitty bars in shitty basements in shitty Toronto, except only Stevie is that.

“I’m not making you do anything,” Stevie lies right to his actual face as they collect her beer and his wine from the bartender. “You offered to comfort me.”

“I don’t think I said ‘comfort’ so much as I said ‘support you in your time of—‘“ he waves at her generally, carefully not to spill. “Loss, or whatever.”

Not that Jake qualifies as a loss, per se; he hadn’t even tried to get out of the contract, which Stevie keeps saying is the important thing. And David of all people knows that above-average sex can only take you so far when the other guy is an emotionally illiterate carpenter/rockstar who responded to a breakup text with “bummer :P”

“Well, this is you supporting me.” Stevie takes a swig and leans back against the bar; David admires the clean line of her neck and chest the way he’s done a thousand times before, absentminded appreciation the way he looks at a beautiful coat or listens to a new record; letting it slip through his fingers, like everything else.

“You’re not…performing, are you,” David doesn’t-ask.

Stevie gives him a long look. “You’ve known me for over two years,” she says, even. “Do you think I’m likely to break out into song?”

“You’re a talent scout for a major record label,” he feels obliged to point out.

“Uh, first of all, it’s not major, and second of all, so are you,” she says.

This is, sadly, irrefutable.

When Ira disappeared to God knew where with the keys to the Rose family fortune, their lawyer had pulled them all into the living room with a chipper expression and a folder. David hadn’t listened, the sounds of furniture, paintings, his life being carted out the door overwhelming everything else. But Dad’s voice cut through.

“Schitt Records? That was a joke—“ and it still is a joke, almost two and a half years later. The biggest joke in the music industry, and David hears the laughter everywhere he goes.

Roland Schitt had been managing his wife and an extremely chipper singer-songwriter who went by “Twyla” and did tarot card readings after every set. Schitt Records was worth approximately nothing; probably why the government had let them keep it. When Dad finally exercised his ownership clause and made Roland an ex-officio (read: non-voting) board member, Roland had actually cackled with delight and wished them all the best, taking his “President of” title and a small stipend with him. Jocelyn and Twyla stuck around, although David still isn’t sure that Twyla’s all that aware of the change in management.

And anyway, as far as David’s concerned, the only thing of value at Schitt Records, at least at first, was Stevie.

They’d put Alexis back in the studio for want of any better ideas; David had found a semi-decent, semi-sober songwriter to give her some of the songs Meghan and Ariana had rejected. “Pullin’ Up Alexis” didn’t so much as crack the top 200 but it had put Schitt Records in the black, at least, even if Alexis did go white-faced and brittle at the awful venues David coaxed her into for the better part of a year — county fairs and no-name festivals where the audience wanted to jeer and heckle, where her dancing would get her laughed offstage if her singing didn’t. But every time he’d tell her she could quit (she couldn’t) and that they’d find another way to get the company on its feet (they wouldn’t), she’d lift her chin and smile and ask her where they were going next, and David loved her more than he’d ever, ever tell her.

And when the tour ended, David gritted his teeth and went out with Stevie to find something else. They found Ronnie, who hates them all but has hands like an angel on the piano; Jake who’s prettier onstage than off but who can draw a reliable crowd; even Ray, whose one-man band act is surprisingly lucrative, though David suspects that’s because anyone who listens can’t actually believe what’s happening.

Schitt Records still isn’t worth buying, but it’s worth something, now; worth spending late nights in small towns, worth sleepless weekends working festivals, worth more than David had ever expected to find.

But he’s still looking, he knows, for something else.

Even more insultingly, the open mic has a theme; “90’s Nostalgia!” which means too many bad covers of Alanis and one truly offensive attempt at “I Will Always Love You” that has David ordering his next glass of wine in a pint glass.

Stevie is laughing, though — she’s happy, in tune with the crowd who are clearly here for their respective friends onstage, leading the shaky ones through their choruses and cheering with far more enthusiasm than is merited when each of them wraps up.

“This is horrifying,” David tells her as some guy in his 60s gets gently ushered offstage and there’s a blessed lull.

“I know,” Stevie replies, eyes shining. “It’s great.”

And it is, in a weird way that David would never have enjoyed in his other life; he would never have set foot in here, would never have been friends with someone as grounded and solid and plaid as Stevie in the first place. So he takes a drink and doesn’t suggest they leave, but does pick a fight about sending Ray to ACL.

Stevie obligingly takes the bait and they’re halfway through the comfortable old argument about riders when David realizes the strummy-strummy lala in the background is a) recognizable, b) good, and c) infuriating.

The guy onstage is best described as “unprepossessing accountant,” wearing an ugly shirt and ugly slacks and uglier shoes and an astonishingly ugly fringed vest that’s probably (hopefully) a joke, judging by the wolf whistles from a table near the stage. But he’s got a smile like a searchlight as he rounds the corner of the first verse:

“I’m caught up in the midst of you And I cannot resist…”

David flails around until he makes contact with Stevie’s — okay, her face, which she’ll probably complain about later, but he’s too incensed. “He’s singing Mariah?”

Stevie swats his hand away. “He’s not bad.”

“I—“ David clutches at his pint glass. Fringed Vest, still grinning into the crowd and unaware of David’s newborn vendetta against him, continues.

Boy, if I do The things you want me to The way I used to do Would you love me, baby Hold me, feeling now Go and break my heart

The entire bar joins in on the chorus, Fringed Vest leading them like some hick accountant Pied Piper:

Heartbreaker, you got the best of me But I just keep on coming back incessantly Oh, why did you have to run your game on me I should have known right from the start You'd go and break my heart

Fringed Vest does not, thank God, try his hand at rapping the break but the crowd seems reluctant to let him actually finish the song, the choruses getting progressively louder and more boisterous until Fringed Vest puts a line underneath and steps back from the mic and they finally take the goddamn hint.

“That was—“ awful, he’s about to say, but the problem is that it wasn’t. There’s not a whole lot a Canadian accountant can add to Mariah Carey, especially with the advent of Lip Synch Battle. But it hadn’t felt patronizing or mocking; Fringed Vest knew every word, sang with a voice that couldn’t hold a match to Mariah but still expressed some sort of longing. He’d been joyful, earnest where most people tonight had clung to trite. It… worked.

He’s even more enraged.

“C’mon,” Stevie says, slipping through the crowd with the weary ease of someone who’s been doing this half her life. David tromps behind in her wake, bumping up against the same people Stevie glides past and almost losing her twice before she gets to the dinky curtain that is the backstage and ducking inside.

Which smells like vomit; David immediately flips through the various acts tonight and makes a bet with himself that it was the very sweet otter with the beard and the accordion even while Stevie is making her way over to the side of the stage where Fringed Vest is talking to somebody else and drinking — god, Red Mountain, David is vetoing any contract Stevie tries to push on this guy for that alone.

But Stevie’s introducing them and Fringed Vest extends a hand. “Patrick,” he says, grip firm. Up close he’s — not attractive, exactly, no eyebrows to speak of and a haircut that screams middle management, that smile still the most interesting thing about him. But it’s very interesting.

“David,” he admits, aware of Stevie’s narrowed eyes.

“David Rose,” Patrick says, worryingly. “You own Schitt Records.”

He blinks; this is possibly the first time anyone’s said the name of the company without smirking. “Co-own,” he corrects.

“You manage a friend of mine,” Patrick continues, “Ray? Butani?”

“We only manage one Ray, don’t worry,” Stevie tells him.

“How are you friends with Ray?” David demands. “He plays a vibraphone.”

“We both went to Rotman,” and that explains so much about both Ray and Patrick. “He was pretty excited when he signed.”

“Yes, the glamour of the pub circuit,” David says. “Who can resist the allure of all this,” and he almost hits a girl with beads in her hair and a banjo in her hand climbing onstage.

“It’s got its charms,” Patrick says, still smiling.

#schitt's creek #david/patrick #schitt records #schittalking #ficcage of interest #this story happened mainly because I finally bit the bullet and listened to Noah Reid's album #which hit all my 'very impressed‚ was not embarrassed at all‚ and I thought I would be' buttons #and was like 'oh no what if Patrick had written this instead'

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whateverisbeautiful · 5 years

Text

Reveling in Richonne

#156: The Reward (9x16)

Every protagonist needs a reward. Even if they don’t get a happily ever after or a perfect ending, they have to get a reward for all their efforts. And Rick’s reward was/is/and will always be Michonne and the family they created.

So even though he’s not able to still witness it all yet, the fact that his family can have a joyous moment like they had in this s9 finale shows the reward of all Rick and Michonne’s hardwork and sacrifice.

And getting to watch Richonne and their family all these years has been such a treasured experience and a reward for me. So, y’all, I’m walking into this final season 9 post like...

So the finale jumps ahead a bit, to the first snowy winter we’ve really seen on the show. And it’s actually really pretty.

And y’all, you already know the main scene that I need to bring up from this finale in regards to my love for Richonne and the Grimes family. 😊🙌🏽 ❄️

But a few observations before that moment:

1. I admit I found Negan’s commentary on this messy love quadrangle hilarious. He was Jerry Springer up in that joint. 😂He was straight up giddy to be out of that cell and crack his “Father Not The Father” jokes.

2. I absolutely love seeing little Judith and RJ in their beanies and winter clothes and Judith being a good big sister by wrapping a blanket around her and RJ. ☺️

Carl took care of her and now she has a little sibling to look after. Full circle. 👌 And I cannot wait until Rick gets to reunite with his little ones. They’re too precious! 🏽

3. Judith somehow lost Dog and I was legit fearful for her cuz Daryl would lose his mind if they didn’t find his best friend before he got back lol. But seeing little RJ in this moment was adorable. How I would love if Rick and Carl would have got to be in his life and watch him grow up.

4. Michonne and co stay at the Sanctuary (which makes me sad cuz the last time she was in the Sanctuary she was all cuddled up with the famous Rick Grimes. I need that Richonne reunion asap.) The group at Sanctuary tries to figure out how they should best travel home and when they go over the map Aaron says Rick’s bridge would’ve saved them which is sad too. 😔 Rick had the right idea about that bridge all this time and it would’ve helped people just like he believed it would.

5. Michonne and Ezekiel have a talk, leader to leader, and Michonne expresses how being apart didn’t actually make them stronger and they can’t let that happen again. She reminds Ezekiel that “that charter we signed, it means something.” But that dialogue had me looking at the writers like...

Again, I wish it was “we” tho and that they had let Michonne sign her charter so that she could sign it with “Michonne Grimes”. But I digress lol. 😪

Michonne passionately says the kingdom people aren’t just King Ezekiel’s anymore. “They’re ours. And we’re gonna get them home” I was like Kingdom, it’s your lucky day cuz now that you have Michonne claiming you, you gon’ be alright. When Sis is leading, people live. 👸🏽💯

6. Judith thinks she hears Dog so she runs after him (which I was like baby girl please stop running off. She’s about to beat Carl’s record) and then Negan chases after her and again I’m not with this. I just don’t want him near her no matter how much he’s “changed” and I especially don’t want him holding her or acting as a pseudo dad. The father/daughter vibes the show might be going for...

Negan asks if Judith’s okay and gives her his coat and then he jokes that she’s doing all this running to get extra Negan time...and y’all, I really think Rick would dislike this moment. ☹️ I don’t care how harmonious Rick wanted the world to be, he def didn’t intend for Negan to be buddy buddy with his daughter.

And while yes someone needed to go after Judith so I’m glad someone helped, cuz those Alexandrians stay slacking whenever it’s time to look for some kids. But still, Negan needs to stay in his lane.

I know this show will be adamant to redeem Negan going forward tho so it’s pretty much inevitable. And the show really was working double time to redeem this guy with having him save a little girl and a dog at the same time. 🤷🏽‍♀️

7. The only thing colder than this winter weather was Carol breaking it off with Ezekiel 👀🥶 I felt really bad for the king cuz that’s a lot of loss to go through with losing your kid and then your wife leaving you. It also just makes me really grateful for Richonne cuz, y’all, there’s a lot of couples both in this show and in other shows who fall apart or get really mishandled but Richonne is so solid and so everlasting. #StayWinning

8. Michonne and Negan have an interesting exchange in the very room where Rick and Michonne were once laying down the law to Negan in the prior season finale.

Michonne thanks Negan for saving Judith and Negan brings up how last time the two were in here together Rick had just slit his throat open. Good times. 😝 Negan says Judith is a special girl and again my gut reaction was just to be like; Negan step back cuz you aren’t a pseudo dad, uncle, or anything else. 👏🏽

9. Interestingly one of the most compassionate things said to Michonne since this time jump comes from Negan in this scene. Cuz he looks at her and says “And you…you’ve been through enough.” It’s true. It’s so true. 💯

Her friends needed to express this sentiment too. You can tell it feels strange for Michonne to be having a fairly friendly moment like this with Negan so she just says “Get better.” and leaves. But then Negan asks if everyone’s okay and she questions if he cares and then they end up having a whole little conversation about how no one sees themselves as the bad guy. It’s true that from most people’s perspectives they’re the hero.

I feel like this scene was low key meant to plant the seed of Michonne and Negan having a more friendly open dialogue with each other moving forward and all I can say to that is...tread very lightly TWD lol. 🙃😑

Alright so now onto the perfect winter wonderland scene. 🤗

The group gets back to Alexandria and there’s this great aerial shot of Alexandria’s queen, Michonne being the first one to walk through the gates and then we see Judith run and hug her.

I adore that Judith runs to her with open arms just like she did in 9x14. Mom and daughter love, y’all. 🙌🏽

Mama Michonne of course checks on Judith and asks how she is and she notices Judith’s cheeks are super red so she immediately asks, “What happened?” and Judith doesn’t want to admit that the Carl in her had her running out the house and off into the frigid storm, so she instead adorably says, “It’s cold.” And Michonne smiles and hugs her again. I love their love. 😭😋

And then y’all, I’m sent straight to another galaxy when Michonne looks over and sees RJ adorably laying in the snow.

PRECIOUS. She cutely walks up to him and scoops him up into a hug and this is some of the best Mama Michonne content. 😭

Can you believe we’re here? We’re at a point in this series where Michonne can hug her son who belongs to her and Rick. Richonne is the best journey. 🙌🏽💯

Rick and Michonne’s love always felt like a character in itself. It was that evident and present and powerful. And now it’s precious to know that their love gets to take form in this adorable little boy.

I just adore seeing Michonne hug her children. And Judith’s little face of joy as she watches her mom and brother is the adorable cherry on top. More of this in season ten, please!

Michonne has hugged all the Grimes in the most beautiful way. 😭Especially, in times they’ve been in danger Michonne’s always right there to hug them and be there for them.

The Grimes are lucky to have Michonne as the matriarch. ☺️ #Royalty!

And then it gets even cuter as Judith and RJ play in the snow and Daryl gets in on the action and throws a snowball at RJ which is the sweetest thing. 😊

And RJ throws a snowball back at Uncle Daryl and I don’t know about y’all but on my TV I heard RJ throw that snowball and say “This is for not taking my dad back to Alexandria like you said you would.” 😂Was it just my TV? 😋

Lol but for real it is cute and I love seeing Daryl interact with Rick and Michonne’s son.

So then they all engage in this adorable little snow ball fight and it’s really heartwarming. This is the world Rick wanted. This is the life he wanted to give Michonne and their kids and I’m glad that in this moment his wife and kids got to enjoy the bliss he so deeply wanted to provide for them.

This is the reward. 😌

The only thing that would make this scene better is if Rick and Carl were here to join in this family fun. But Rick will get his chance. I know he will. 💯

Every season finale had pretty much always gave us a notably special Richonne moment. Season 3 Finale: “Must’ve been something else then.” Season 4 Finale: “Cuz I’m okay too.” Season 5 Finale: “I’m still with you.” Season 6 Finale: Rick being sent into a whole daze after finding her locs on that walker. Season 7 Finale: Rick finding her and hugging her after that battle and letting her know they will be the ones who live. Season 8 Finale: R&M holding hands as they head off to war.

So going into the season 9 finale I was sad that this would be the first finale without a sweet Richonne moment. But what’s great is that Richonne lives on through their family. So the finale still gave us something so precious.

If they’re going to take Rick away from us then ending on Michonne hugging both her kids in the snow is a nice touch to give us some Grimes family love. After everything Michonne went through this season I’m glad we get to see her smile and embody the sentiment she expressed to Negan in 9x04; As long as you’re still breathing then there’s life worth living.

The final moment is Ezekiel and Judith talking on the radio and before Judith leaves to do homework she tells Ezekiel, “I’ll tell my mom you said hello.” And again, I just love how often Judith says “mom”. I was hoping we’d hear Judith call Michonne mom at least once this season and we got that ten times over so I’m happy.

And y’all, I heard about the rumors leading up to the finale that Rick’s voice might potentially be heard on the radio and I was pretty certain that those rumors were just that; rumors. But you know there’s always that little tiny piece of you that hopes. And then it was some indiscernible woman’s voice so idk, we’ll see where that goes I guess.

But even though Rick being alive didn’t get foreshadowed in this finale, I have hope that at some point Michonne will learn the good news that her man is alive because once again, they’re the ones who live. They’re also #MagnetsForLife 🙌🏽😊🎉🥰

And that is everything from Season 9!

Season 9 was quite the roller coaster. Even though the show isn’t what it was, this season was a refreshing upgrade from the last two seasons. And as always, in my humble opinion, Richonne and their family was the brightest beacon of light this season. They never fail to deliver and shine.

On the eve of this s10 trailer, (Michonne’s last trailer 😭 ), I know I’m going to watch for Michonne and Danai’s final season. (And imma need this show to give both Danai and Michonne their things. Said things include but are not limited to: Their respect, their honor, their peace, their accolades, their time to shine, and their route to the movies with Rick)

But after that, it’ll be the movies I wait for. I want Michonne, Rick, Judith, and RJ content. All of it. Every second of it. 😍👌

(Side note: And I don’t want Michonne to leave Judith and RJ for any reason at all, so I seriously hope wherever she goes she takes them with her. Even though I have a feeling Judith will be around for the rest of the show, but a girl can dream that Michonne gets to leave with her kids)

Whatever happens with the show or movies all I know is I’m in it for the Grimes Family. I’m glad Andy and Danai get to move on and go thrive beyond this show. I’m grateful for the time they’ve put into these characters and I’m especially glad that their characters are alive, Richonne’s love lives, their son and daughter live, cuz this family be giving me life.

And y’all, just know that so long as Richonne is alive my love for them and my need to revel over them lives on too. So your girl is not done gushing over the GOAT couple lol.

I’ll of course have to analyze every moment in those movies but even before then I’ve already got some ideas. I’ve mentioned before how I have a non-existent top ten Richonne moments list that I don’t have written down it’s just in my head. And that’s true. Or at least it was.

Now that we’ve officially gotten every Rick and Michonne moment we’re gonna get from the series, I’ve compiled a whole Top 30 list of my all-time favorite Richonne moments ranked in order, leading all the way to my number one favorite Richonne moment. (Y’all know my extra self couldn’t stop at a Top 10 lol).

So at some point down the line, I’ll try and share that list with some updated thoughts on those scenes. And I’d love to hear your lists too!

Until then, I can’t wait for these “alleged” movies lol. They’re coming. They have to cuz I need this all to conclude with Rick and Michonne back where they’re always meant to be; together. I need Judith and RJ back with their mom and dad. I need Richonne/Grimes Family gold. A whole pot of it. And I believe we’ll get it.

I’m excited too cuz If Rick and Michonne are in a movie it’s going to be good, no matter what else goes on, cuz those two don’t know how to do anything other than be excellent. 💯And imma be there cuz that’s our family so you know we gotta be there to reunite lol. 😋🙌 🏽 🏆

I already know that reunion is about to be just like Richonne and their family...

So before I conclude this post, I really want to say a sincere thank you to everyone who read all these s9 posts and all the little dissertations I’ve done thus far. As I always say, and I always mean it, y’all are the best and have great taste in TV couples lol. I know writing these when I have some free time puts a smile on my face and if this last 30 days of posts put at least one smile on your face then it makes all this time spent worth it.

Thanks so much for letting me revel on your TL and thanks for sharing the comments, kindness, and conversations. I so enjoy hearing from you and your opinions are on point for real. Your insights make me love Richonne even more. So thank you! I genuinely appreciate the support and that even seasons later, even with all the stuff and thangs this wild show puts us through we’re still here rocking with Richonne. #Always&Forever

All that’s left to say is Richonne is amazing and the GOAT. When you have two iconic multidimensional characters played by two iconic multidimensional actors you’re gonna get magic. And that’s why a “zombie” show ended up having the greatest healthiest most beautiful love story I’ve ever seen. #GospelTruth #StayBlessedY’all #LongLiveRichonne!

gifs source: the amazing & gifted @michonnegrimes

#richonne #s9 #9.16 #blessed and highly favored #Rewarded by Richonne

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thedupshadove · 5 years

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G-d of My Father’s

Summary: An interesting fact about Newton Pulsifer comes further to light. Newt, as usual, frets.

Author’s Note: This was sort of written to be set within @jewish-kulindadromeus “HaSofer”, but I’m over-eager, which means that only Chapter One of that fic is actually up as I write this, which means that further chapters of that fic may render this one incompatible with it, which is fine as that author is within her rights to write whatever kind of story she wants, seeing how we’re not actually working together.

“Say,” said Crowley after the sixth time Newt overheard him giving Aziraphale some Judaism 101 lesson and interjected with a helpful clarification, extra information, or his own view on things only to hastily shut himself up, “how come you know all this? I remember asking you if you were Jewish and you said no.” In fact Newt had looked at the ceiling, stammered a bit, pulled his mouth into a thin Muppety line, rubbed the back of his neck, and then said no, but Crowley hadn’t given that much thought at the time, since that was barely more awkwardness than Newt tended to display when asked to make a definitive statement on anything. “What, did an old girlfriend teach you?”

“His current girlfriend could have taught him.” said Anathema pointedly, walking into the room. “Although I suppose if that were it he’d wax fondly about boyoz instead of babka.”

“No,” Newt finally forced out after exhaling the breath he’d been holding in since Crowley had started addressing him. “No, it…it wasn’t any girlfriend. It was, er, well it’s all stuff I picked up from my father’s old synagogue.”

“Uh-huh.” said Crowley in a much-is-becoming-clear-to-me voice. “Your father’s old synagogue. Your mother, I take it, not having one.”

“Right.”

“And may I further hazard a guess that your father, family obligations aside, is not what one would call a pious man?”

“Oh, completely non-observant. And pretty well atheist too. Since well before he met my mum, mind, so don’t go blaming her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Crowley deadpanned. “So, you were dragged to the synagogue sometimes, probably mostly for b’nai mitzvahs, and couldn’t help but absorb a few things. I see.” He made as if to turn back to Aziraphale.

But Newt suddenly looked distressed and a little defensive. “Well I wouldn’t say dragged.” he protested. “I mean they didn’t have to drag me. Why would they? It was something special, something wonderful. A day to be spent surrounded by relatives, plenty of whom I didn’t see very often. Getting to see some cousin have a shining moment. Good food, good music, good conversation, us kids sneaking off to go exploring or play hide-and-seek during the reception, what wasn’t to look forward to?”

“Alright, alright, I apologize.” said Crowley, seemingly a little taken aback.

But Newt seemed now to feel that not enough had been said. “And it wasn’t just b’nai mitzvahs either. I mean there were a lot of those, but there were some weddings too, and of course a few funerals. Those obviously weren’t fun, per se, but they were…good. In a way. Like, if this relative was going to die, I’d much rather that we’d all gathered and done this funeral than if we hadn’t. When I first heard that my grandfather had died I was just…numb, and it wasn’t until we were all standing around the grave and it was my turn to shovel in some dirt that I think it really hit home. And that was a good situation to have that happen in, I think. And we would go to the Seders at my aunt’s house pretty regularly.”

That made sense, Crowley reflected. If there was any one holiday that even the most secular Jew might go home for, it would be Passover, being not only very major and important but also placing such an emphasis on family and gathering and togetherness. And food and drink and storytelling and, if you do it right, laughter.

“I even…” some of Newt’s natural state of embarrassment seemed to have caught up with him again, but he soldiered on, powered by some inner spring of…something that needed to get out. “I even did the Four Questions a couple of times, until the cousins younger than me started getting old enough to take their turns doing it. But I remember my Dad teaching me how in the weeks before the holiday. Took me forever to get it right: I kept forgetting myself and using a soft ‘ch’.

“And sometimes Dad and I would just…talk about it. I mean, he didn’t keep any of the practices or rituals anymore except at family things, but I never got the impression that he, you know, really hated it now or anything. I would want to know something about what’s this holiday or why that rule or how come this is kosher but that isn’t, and he would tell me, and he never seemed to mind. Even seemed to kind of enjoy it. Not, I figure, from belief surging anew but,” Newt shrugged, “nostalgia, you know. And often that question led to other questions, and discussions, and sort of…arguments but without anger. I remember one time, after he’d got done explaining that ‘animals that walked on the ground’ had to have the right kind of hooves and the right kind of chewing habits, but any kind of bird was okay, I pointed out that perhaps our ancestors had not made a close examination of the usual behavior of the average chicken, and he,” Newt made an upward striking motion with his hand.

“He hit you?” Aziraphale gasped, shocked both at the sudden turn of the story and the fact that Newt’s tone hadn’t changed with it.

“What? No, no, no.” Newt said hastily, realizing his failure of communication. “He pantomimed dope-slapping me, but he didn’t actually make contact, and he was smiling. Smiling like he would sometimes when we had those talks. Like I was the biggest little smart-arse he’d ever met, and he loved me for it.” Newt was smiling too, now, bathed in his own nostalgic glow.

“Did he ever start one of these talks?” asked Crowley.

“Not often, no. The only times I can think of when he did were when they tried to teach us something about Judaism in school, and I’d come home and tell him about it, and it turned out school had got it wrong, or not given the whole picture.”

“So you grew up with Jewish family, going to Jewish events, celebrating (some) Jewish holidays, and getting a Jewish education at home pretty much for the asking.” Crowley clarified.

“That’s about the size of it, yeah.”

“But you’re not Jewish.”

“Well I’m not, am I?” Newt shrugged in agitation. “There’s a set of criteria, and I fall outside it.”

“Love,” said Anathema gently, “There’s been a lot of talk lately about reconsidering how strictly the matriliniality rule needs to be adhered to…”

“Yes, yes, I know about that. And it would be one thing if my immediate family really practiced Judaism regularly, or if I’d been bar mitzvahed myself, or anything like that, but we didn’t, and I wasn’t, so I’m not.”

“Well, that must be a relief then.” said Crowley, in a tone that could have pickled meat.

Newt stared at him. “What?”

“To have that escape clause.” he went on nastily. “I can understand why you would want it. Historically speaking, being Jewish has rarely been easy. Why be part of a weird minority if you don’t have to? So yes, you just go ahead and lean on that mother of yours. No one would blame you for pushing the…oddities of your heritage and past under the rug. No, don’t worry; you don’t have to be Jewish if you don’t want to be.”

Newt stood slack-jawed for a moment, then exploded. “Don’t say that, how dare you say that?” he demanded, with far more heat than it probably should have been safe to direct at a being like Crowley. “Haven’t you been listening? The times I spent…” he fumbled for words “…in Judaism have consistently been some of the happiest of my life. Laughter and connection and this…this feeling that I never got anywhere else. A feeling of warmth, of rightness. It was almost like believing in something. Not in G-d, maybe, but sometimes, even if it got more fleeting and less strong as I grew older and started to really understand the kind of half-breed hanger-on I was, sometimes, I believed that I belonged.

“And as to your veiled references to the fluctuating but ever-present antisemitism or just simple ignorance of mainstream society, trust me, I know. When I was younger it was listening to a classmate confidently explain to her friends that Jews weren’t allowed to eat leavened bread at all, ever, and not having the courage to interrupt the conversation and correct her, and more recently, it’s been these three co-workers at United Holdings who I can only assume think they’re funny. Or possibly they think that they can get away with it if they pretend to think they’re funny, which, to be fair, so far they have. But I get to listen to them gathered around the water cooler across from my cubicle making Lynch-The-Black jokes and Gas-The-Jew jokes, and they both make me angry, but the second category undeniably hits a deeper, more personal well of anger than the first.”

Here he paused. “I’m not…proud of that, by the way. It would almost certainly be better if every cruel or bigoted joke I heard hit me just as hard as the ones that make me picture my father and my aunt and my closest cousin and my new little second cousin being dispassionately yet hatefully murdered. But that’s not how my mind works. I would even hazard to say that it’s not how most people’s minds work.”

Crowley, who had withstood the storm with equanimity, leaned in closer and raised his voice a hair. “So are you Jewish or aren’t you?”

“I-DON’T-KNOW!”

“Because it seems to me that your position right now is that people who tell you that you’re Jewish are wrong, and people who tell you that you’re not Jewish…are wrong.”

“Well…maybe! Maybe they are both wrong!”

Crowley’s voice gentled a little. “Then what’s right?”

Newt sighed and deflated. “What’s right is…that I can’t say I’m Jewish. But I’m definitely not not Jewish. And sometimes I feel closer to it than other times. And sometimes I can manage to be sort of okay with this ebb-and-flow relationship, and then sometimes I want to be really Jewish so badly my teeth hurt.”

For a moment, Crowley looked distinctly like he’d just gotten exactly what he was looking for. “Then why don’t you do something about that?”

Newt blushed again. “Because…because I never know where to start. Because even if I knew enough to just jump in and start doing more, it would feel wrong of me to decide that I was allowed to do so. But trying official conversion, and having to explain my particular position to a Rabbi, always seemed to promise its own stew of awkwardness. So I’ve just…sat with this uncertainty. For years.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, and an awful lot seemed to pass between them in quite a short time. “I think,” the Angel then said, “that I should quite like to have a classmate. Someone to collaborate with on homework. Someone to gang up on the teacher with, if need be.”– Crowley put his hand to his forehead in mock horror– “An extra brain to keep things interesting. If you think you can stand to bring yourself down to my level–”

“Oh, there’s loads I don’t know.” Newt interjected. “My ‘Jewish education’, such as it was, was incredibly piecemeal and haphazard, really just getting answers to questions I happened to think to ask. I’m sure that plenty of the basics will be new to me. Heck, you’re an immortal angel; you probably know a lot of things that I don’t.”

“Then we’ll make perfect complementary students, won’t we? Will you join us?”

And so, shaking almost imperceptibly, Newt sat down.

#good omens #good omens 2019 #good omens is jewish and so am i #newton pulsifer #Anthony Crowley #anathema device #Aziraphale

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themurphyzone · 5 years

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Dooferella Ch 1

Summary: Heinz has to read to children at the local library as community service, but things go awry when Heinz uses a Fairy Tale-inator to spice up the story of Cinderella. Unfortunately, something malfunctions and Heinz is transported into a strange fairy tale world! Now Dooferella, he’s stuck with a long list of chores for his parents and goody two shoes brother until a summons from the kingdom’s headquarters arrives….

Ch 1: Once Upon a Time in the Danville Public Library

Musical cliptastic countdowns were not a viable way to knock out two hundred hours of community service. Monogram’s contract had been rewritten to include a Will Not Ever Co-Host with Heinz Doofenshmirtz clause, and Perry refused to cheat and add more hours onto the community service form, though he made a small concession and factored in the ten minutes of commercial breaks.

Heinz still had a grand total of 199 hours and 30 minutes of community service left.

Well, 198 hours and 30 minutes after this reading gig at the library.

Reading to children was something an upstanding citizen might do, but no evil scientist worth their salt would be doing something considered beneficial and good to society in such a public area.

Heinz’s evil street cred was taking a nosedive, though he didn’t have much to begin with.

“CAN I PICK THE STORY, DAD?” Norm asked. “I’VE BEEN BRUSHING UP ON POPULAR CHILDREN’S BOOKS.”

“I’m not your dad,” Heinz snapped. “I really gotta fix whatever bug is causing you to say that. Besides, the story-picking privileges belong solely to the storyteller, which is me. Last I checked, the Mother Goose Corner isn’t a democracy. Not that it would matter, since kids can’t vote and stuff.”

Norm crashed through the library wall, leaving a giant gaping hole and massive amount of rubble where the entrance used to be. The head librarian made several furious shushing motions in Norm and Heinz’s direction, but didn’t look up from the thick tome she was reading.

“CAN WE READ THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD?” Norm asked as they headed to the Mother Goose Corner. “I THINK IT’S A VERY INSPIRING STORY ABOUT OVERCOMING HARDSHIP AND-“

“Last time I read you that story, you repeated ‘I think I can’ ad nauseam and prevented Perry the Platypus from hearing my spiel on the Banana Peel-inator!” Heinz retorted. “I’ll be picking the books from here, because chances are you’ll wind up stealing a catchphrase or mantra and I’ll be the one dealing with the copyright issues that come out of that…actually, making copyrights could make a good evil scheme one day. Doof-patented self-destruct buttons, bratwurst brands, and evil! I should definitely copyright evil. And suing and forcing people to shoulder their own attorney fees is also evil, so that’s a bonus! And with that kind of monopoly, I can take over and rule the ENTIRE! TRI! STATE! AREA!”

He cackled evilly, though the moment was rudely cut off when a group of middle-aged women shushed him. Heinz scowled. Their shushing was at a way higher decibel level than his cackling. At least his brand of evil laughter didn’t threaten to destroy people’s eardrums. Besides, the drummer from Love Handel was always rhythmically stamping books at the check-in and nobody complained about that.

The Mother Goose Corner was mercifully secluded from the rest of the library. A blue curtain decorated with waterfowl separated the small room from any prying eyes.

“Perry the Platypus would love this curtain. Remind me to ask someone where I can buy one of these things. Probably wrap it up and make it this year’s Christmas present. Alongside another vase. He liked the last one I sent him,” Heinz said.

“HI, MY NAME IS NORM. I LIKE SQUIRRELS AND EVERYTHING ELSE LITTLE BOYS ENJOY,” Norm greeted a young boy with a green baseball cap. The other kids quickly flocked to the edges of the mat to avoid getting crushed by Norm’s titanium posterior.

“I’m Balthazar Horowitz, but I’m trying to legally change it to Ballpit Kid!” the boy exclaimed.

“MY DAD IS TODAY’S STORYTELLER,” Norm declared. “I’M VERY PARTIAL TO THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT COULD. HINT HINT.”

“Real subtle, Norm,” Heinz muttered. “And for the millionth time, I’m not your dad!”

Someone tugged on his lab coat, and Heinz glanced down. A little girl with puffy blonde pigtails stared back at him, rocking back and forth on her heels cutely. “Excuse me, but may I pick today’s story?” she giggled.

She was adorable, but it was the calculating sort of adorable.

When Vanessa was little, she pulled the innocent look if she wanted something. Heinz’s resolve crumbled every time.

But since this girl was a total stranger to him, it was going to be way easier to resist.

“Nope, doesn’t matter how cute and innocent you make yourself,” Heinz said as he turned away from the girl and leafed through the stack of books by the storyteller’s chair. Thankfully, The Little Engine That Could wasn’t among their choices. “I already told Norm that I was picking today’s book and I’m not budging on the matter. Ugh, not that any of these options are any better. I don’t get how books on overeating caterpillars or uncreative ursine parents who can’t come up with better names for their kids than Brother and Sister can be engaging to kids nowadays.”

Heinz rejected five books before a tiny black shoe stomped on his hand. A pudgy hand grabbed the front of his turtleneck, and he found himself face to face with the cute little girl.

“Look, I’ll cut you some slack since you’re obviously new to the Mother Goose Corner,” the girl said casually. “But I’m going to warn you once and only once. This is my turf and I pick the stories. And don’t bother warning anyone else. The other kids won’t squeal on me. Nobody outside this room will ever believe you. Except for maybe Candace, but I have my own methods of discrediting her. Capiche?”

“Alright!” Heinz yelped, throwing up his hands in surrender. Pint-sized powerhouses were dangerous to push around, but at least Perry the Platypus was firmly on the good side. He was definitely not messing with a kid whose evil stare put the entirety of LOVEMUFFIN to shame. “You win! Just let a guy earn his community service hours in peace, kid!”

Satisfied, the girl shoved her preferred book into his face, then claimed a bean bag chair for herself. “Yay, Cinderella!” she exclaimed, as if she hadn’t just threatened him five seconds ago.

The other kids muttered among themselves, giving Suzy a wide berth as they settled on the far edge of the mat.

“Rule number one of the Mother Goose Corner,” Ballpit Kid murmured to Norm. “Little Suzy Johnson always gets her way.”

“WOW, DAD GOT FOILED AND THIS ISN’T EVEN PART OF AN EVIL SCHEME,” Norm replied.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s laugh at the soon-to-be dictator’s expense. Cause that’s gonna bode well for you in the future,” Heinz snapped as he sat down in the storyteller’s chair. “You like Cinderella, huh?”

In Heinz’s opinion, the book’s cover painted a really misleading picture of the protagonist. It contained the image of a smiling girl in a silvery ballgown, surrounded by smiling woodland critters with the Fairy Godmother and Prince Charming standing in the background.

The Drusselsteinian Cinderella was a lot bleaker, considering that the Fairy Godmother didn’t exist and Cinderella spent most of her time sobbing her eyes out over her mother’s grave. It wasn’t common knowledge that the Brothers Grimm version was adapted from the Drusselsteinian story, though they changed the ending so that the evil stepsisters were punished. The original ending stated that the evil stepsisters poisoned Cinderella at the banquet after her wedding to the prince.

In hindsight, Drusselstein fairy tales were usually designed to crush children’s dreams and traumatize them for life.

But these kids didn’t need to know that.

“She always picks Cinderella,” another girl mumbled. “We all know how it goes.”

By the time Heinz had finished the obligatory once upon a time introduction, most of the kids’ eyes glazed over. Only Norm and Suzy were paying attention.

Well, it was hard to tell if Norm was paying attention since he didn’t have facial expressions.

“Cinderella washed the dishes, fed the animals, tended the garden, swept the floor, dusted the furniture, and cooked for her stepmother and stepsisters every day and…well, you get the picture,” Heinz yawned and flipped the page, deciding to skip over the full list of chores since he was pretty sure the kids had a good understanding of Cinderella’s daily chores. “Honestly, her family isn’t even the good type of evil. They’re just jerks.”

While Heinz didn’t know of any versions of Cinderella where she was forced to pull lawn gnome duty on cold nights with only a balloon to keep her company, he didn’t think it was out of character for the stepmom.

“HER EVIL STEPSISTERS NAMED HER CINDERELLA BECAUSE SHE WAS FORCED TO SLEEP IN A FIREPLACE AMONG THE CINDERS,” Norm supplied.

“No, she doesn’t. She sleeps in a tower,” Ballpit Kid said.

“That’s too mean!” a girl wailed. “How come we call her Cinderella if it’s insulting?”

“COULD WE GET BACK TO THE STORY ALREADY?” Suzy roared, shutting up the other kids. She flopped against her beanbag chair. “Keep going, please!”

But Heinz was already getting an idea. He put the book down and brought out the Parked Car Away-inator he kept in his lab coat. Since he’d finished this device yesterday, he hadn’t encountered a parking problem where it was needed yet. But with a few minor alterations, he could easily tweak it into something that would be more useful for this situation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you might be onto something, Norm,” Heinz said as he switched the positions of a blue and orange wire.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I SAID, BUT I’M GLAD I HELPED. IF I HAD A CARDIOVASCULAR AND INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM, I WOULD BE BLUSHING.”

“We just need a more interesting medium. Cause happily ever afters get cliché once you’ve heard them a million times before. Granted, it usually ends up a happy ending for Cinderella, except in Drusselstein, but that place doesn’t lend itself well to happy endings anyway. Ah, there we go. Voila!” Heinz triumphantly held up his modified inator. “Behold! The Fairy Tale-inator!”

The Fairy Tale-inator was slightly slimmer than the Parked Car Away-inator and much easier to maneuver.

“This’ll give us a more engaging and realistic experience and make it way more interesting for all parties involved!” Heinz declared. “Besides, I forgot to bring a water bottle. I don’t want my throat to get dry while reading. I gotta keep it in good condition for my evil monologues.”

He blasted the book with his inator. A glowing blue residue clung to the cover as the beam died away. Heinz set the Fairy Tale-inator on his chair and picked up the book.

“Is that safe?” Ballpit Kid asked. “Television taught me that unnatural glows around objects aren’t a good sign.”

“Don’t worry. It shouldn’t be radioactive. You guys ready for an immersive experience?” Heinz grinned as he flipped to the first page. But instead of the moving illustrations he expected, he came face to face with a swirling blue portal. “You know, I don’t remember any portals in Cinderella. Kind of anachronistic for whatever ambiguous time period this story’s supposed to be in.”

A wind picked up from somewhere, and Heinz tucked his arms closer to his body as he shivered from the sudden chill.

“Hey, did it just get drafty in here or something? Does anyone know where the air conditioning unit is?” Heinz asked.

The wind grew stronger, sucking Heinz’s right arm into the portal like a vacuum. Heinz grabbed the edge of the book with his free hand and tried to yank it off, but only succeeded in getting his other arm stuck in the portal as well.

“Yeah, this looks and feels just about the same amount of awkward,” Heinz muttered, trying not to gasp as some unseen force tugged on his wrists insistently. “Norm, can you call Perry the Platypus for me and let him know I might be running late for the scheme tonight? Oh, and tell him there’s leftover shrimp pasta in the fridge if he’s feeling hungry. Thwarting’s not fun on an empty stomach.”

“SHOULD I SEND A DISTRESS ALERT TOO?”

Heinz scowled. “What do you mean distressed? I’m not distressed! Do I look like a damsel to you?”

Figures that the portal decided to suck Heinz’s legs and torso as well. Heinz had to crane his neck all the way back to see Norm.

His neck was gonna be really sore tomorrow.

“Alright, so I’m a little distressed,” Heinz admitted. “Looks like storytime’s over now. Man, they better let this count as part of my community service.”

Then the world spun around him in a dizzying swirl of blue and green. Heinz screamed as the wind battered him around like a rag doll, pushing him in every direction imaginable. His surroundings blurred together, becoming an indistinguishable mess of colors with no shape or form

He was pushed, pulled, tugged, yanked, and all the other synonyms that Heinz couldn’t think of because his brain wasn’t registering things properly. The sensations couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but it felt like an eternity.

To add insult to injury, the universe decided to plop him face-first into the leftover dust and ashes of a poorly maintained fireplace.

#dooferella fanfiction #phineas and ferb #fanfiction #heinz doofenshmirtz

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the-silver-sunrise · 7 years

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Setting Up (Tales from the Lost Souls’ #1)

Riverhold. What was originally a fortress built on the western point of the explored world, grew into a massive city and a central hub to the dozens of surrounding towns and villages. The city was a haven for adventurers from across the world seeking treasures and knowledge hidden in the unexplored Wildlands.

Of course, if there’s anything adventurers love as much as treasure, it’s a good bar or tavern where they can gather information or simply enjoy drinks with friends. One such bar is The Lost Souls’ Rest. A simple bar on an unassuming side street opened by a retired adventurer to cater to the needs of an ever growing city.

Julia smiled as she looked upon the plain sign above the bar doors. The barmaid had spent the past week alone in her home due to a required vacation from work and now she was eager to get back to serving drinks. A sharp gust of wind pushed her towards the door and Julia hurried inside.

She stopped in the porch before walking into the bar proper. Julia took a second to brush her long, black hair out of her face before opening the inner door to see her two co-workers already preparing for the new work day.

“Good afternoon.” Julia said to the room. The girl behind the bar poked her head up when she heard the door open but the boy by the tables didn’t seem to react.

Effy, the young blonde girl behind the bar, waved enthusiastically “Hey, Jules! How was your time off?” She asked.

Effy was Julia’s manager and the daughter of Sven, the owner of the Lost Souls’ Rest. Despite being only fifteen years old, Effy had shown great talent and interest in her father’s bar and had been brought on as Sven eased his way into retirement. She wore a white shirt with a black skirt under a black apron, the same uniform that Julia wore to work, and around her neck was a blue crystal pendant.

“Good, thanks.” Julia replied as she closed the door behind her and took a seat at the bar. “I think I just needed a little break. Did you manage without me?”

“More or less.” Guy answered from across the room. “I’m still learning the drinks.”

Guy was the newest employee at the Lost Souls’, having only been working there for two months. He was also quite young but, unlike Effy, he at least looked old enough to be working in a bar. Since his hair matched the black shirt of his uniform, Effy had made him wear a yellow bow tie to add some color, similar to the red neckerchief that Julia wore.

Julia smiled at Guys direction, despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at her. “Well, thank you very much, Guy. I really appreciate it.”

Guy glanced up at her and waved idly. “Whatever.” He pulled a cloth out of his pocket and started wiping the table in front of him “Happy to help.”

Effy stifled a laugh and gave Guy a snide look. “You were definitely NOT happy to help.”

“Of course I wasn’t!” Guy snapped back. He had stopped what he was doing and turned to face Effy. “You just sprang the extra time on me out of nowhere. If you’d at least told me the day before Jules wasn’t going to be here I’d have been okay with it.”

Effy turned her head in annoyance and huffed audibly. “Stop being such a baby.” She chided, “You’re supposed to be adaptable in this line of work.”

Choosing to leave the pair to their argument, Julia stood up from her seat and went into the back room that doubly served as Sven’s office and cloak room for the staff. She took off her coat and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall, next to a torn black jacket that Julia assumed was Guys.

Julia took a minute to check her uniform. She made sure that her shirt was tucked properly into her skirt and that her neckerchief was tight enough. Happy that she was presentable enough for work, she pulled an apron from its hook on the wall and put it on. As she tied the cord around her waist, Julia noticed that the desk in the corner of the room was clean, as if it hadn’t been used today.

She stepped back into the bar floor. Guy and Effy had finished the argument and had gone back to setting up in silence. “Effy, is your dad not coming in today?” Julia asked.

Effy looked up, surprised, as if she’d forgotten Julia was there. “No.” She answered after a second of silence, “He wasn’t feeling well this morning. He said he might come in later but for now he’s left it to me.”

Julia’s expression turned worried. Sven didn’t get sick very often. “Oh, that’s not good. Well, tell him I said ‘Get well soon’ okay?” She said to Effy.

“Will do.” Effy answered with an idle thumbs up as she returned to checking the stock.

Julia watched the two of them work for a minute before Guy casually walked to the bar. “Okay. Tables are ready. What next?” He asked.

“Make sure the bathrooms are clean.” Effy answered from beneath the bar.

“Got it.” Guy nodded and turned towards the two bathrooms in the back corner of the room.

“Wait a second.” Julia said before Guy took a step “Let me take care of that, Guy. You sit down for a bit.” She walked forward but was stopped by Effy’s arm outstretched, blocking her way.

“Hang on, Julia. Let Guy take the bathrooms. Then he gets to sit.” She tried to give a genuine smile but Effy was radiating smugness.

Guy looked at Effy with a single raised eyebrow. “What’s in there?” He asked.

Effy met Guy’s suspicion with a wry smile. “See for yourself.” She said, pointing him towards the bathroom doors.

Guy sighed audibly and walked to the bathrooms, his earlier confidence shaken and replaced with trepidation. Julia leaned close to Effy and whispered, “What’s in there?”

Effy let out a little chuckle before answering. “Dad and I were the ones closing up last night. I ‘forgot’ to clean the bathrooms. Whatever was in there smelled pretty bad and now it’s had twelve hours to turn really bad.”

They both watched intently as Guy reluctantly opened the door to the men’s bathroom. He didn’t even take a step in before exclaiming “Oh God!” and slamming the door shut.

Effy immediately started laughing loudly despite Guy’s glares at her. Julia made sure to turn away to hide her own laughter. “Why!? What did I do?!” Guy shouted in exasperation.

It took a minute, but eventually Effy answered Guy’s question through her laughter, “You didn’t do anything. You’ve actually been pretty good lately. This was just to remind you how bad it can get if you slack off.”

Guy muttered something under his breath that Julia couldn’t hear from across the room, but she thought she made out the words ‘devil woman’. She decided that he’d had enough abuse for now. “It’s alright, Guy. I’ll help you” she said as she walked past Effy towards Guy.

“Thank you.” Guy said, sounding like a dying man who had just been given a loaf of bread.

Effy continued laughing to herself as Julia coaxed Guy into the bathroom. Eventually, she went back to what she was doing, organizing the various drinks and ingredients they kept behind the bar. After a few minutes she heard the sound of the bathroom door opening followed by quick footsteps. She looked up from the bar just in time to see Guy dash out of the back door. Julia stepped out after another minute, shared a smile with Effy, and went into the women’s restroom.

With nothing else to do until either of her employees returned, Effy checked over the different glasses. She noticed one was chipped at the rim so she took it into the back room and left it on her dad’s desk to remind her to either get it fixed or replaced later. On her way back, she saw Julia leave the bathrooms. Effy walked up to her and was immediately assaulted by a ghastly odor.

“Hang on. Before you do anything Jules…” Effy said before turning to the back door, “Hey, Guy! Get in here!”

Julia stayed where she was. Guy came back in and shambled up to where they were standing. True to Effy’s suspicions, Guy smelled just as bad as Julia.

“Stand still for a second.” Effy commanded as she held her crystal pendant lightly with one hand. She waved her other hand in the direction of Julia and Guy while muttering words that Julia couldn’t quite make out. After a few seconds of standing awkwardly, Effy’s pendant started to glow faintly and Julia noticed the distinct smell of lemons.

Effy brought her hands down, “There,” She declared happily, “Couldn’t have you two smelling like that all day. The alcohol can only cover up so much.”

“Thanks, Effy” Julia said with a smile.

Guy started walking away before turning over his shoulder and saying “Yeah, thanks. I’m still gonna take a minute outside if that’s alright.” Without waiting for an answer, he strolled out of the back door.

Julia and Effy sat at one of the tables. “I hope whoever did that went to see a doctor afterwards. Vomit shouldn’t be that color.” Julia remarked, gesturing back to the men’s restroom.

Effy shrugged “I dunno. I didn’t catch whoever it was. You can get some air too, if you want.”

Julia shook her head “No, I’m okay. I’ve worked here long enough that the smells don’t bother me much. Plus, I don’t have a great nose in the first place.”

“Great.” Effy replied before snapping her fingers in realization. “Oh yeah. So I added a couple things to the menu while you were gone. Take a look.” She picked up the menu on the table and handed it to Julia.

Julia looked over the menu. Most of the entries were drinks she was familiar with but one in particular caught her eye. “’Sea Breeze’. That’s a new one, right?”

Effy nodded enthusiastically “Yep. It’s about two thirds cranberry juice with the last third a split between grapefruit juice and vodka. You serve it on the rocks with a lime slice.” While talking, Effy was moving her arms as if she was preparing an invisible drink to highlight her explanation. “It sounds like a nice, summery drink. Might do well as it gets warmer.”

“Good idea.” Julia said, putting the menu back on the table. “I might try one of those later today.”

Effy opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the back door opening and Guy walking up to them “Okay, I think I’m good now. What else needs doing?” He asked.

Effy looked around the room. To Julia it seemed as if she was working through a checklist in her head. After a few seconds, Effy said “uhh… I think we’re good to go. Are you guys ready to open?”

Julia stood up from her chair “Uh huh.” She answered.

Guy made a show of stretching his arms before saying “Sure.”

“Cool.” Effy responded while standing up herself. “Hey, Jules. There’s a couple more new things on the menu. Just call me if you don’t know something.”

Julia walked behind the bar and began checking where everything was. “Will do, Boss.” She called out as Effy jogged to the front door.

Effy turned the sign on the window from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ and opened the outer doors of the front porch wide. “Alright!” She exclaimed to the room, “We are officially open!”

Guy coughed to accent the silence that followed Effy’s statement. “And now we hang around for an hour before someone comes in.” He said, taking a seat at one of the tables.

Julia leaned on the bar and laughed, “It could be worse. At least when it’s quiet we can relax.”

“I guess.” Effy conceded as she sat at the bar. “I’d still be nice if we were more popular.”

The door opened a few minutes later and Julia smiled at her first customer of the day. “Welcome to the Lost Souls’ Rest. What can I get for you?”

#fantasy #bar #alcohol #tales from the lost souls #lost souls julia #lost souls effy

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