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yamagucji · 3 years

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Embarrassing moments

warnings. just for shits n giggles, 14+ readers preferably, mentions of vomit, poop, choking, etc.

HINATA was extremely constipated and needed to use the bathroom quick. but there’s a long line to the mens bathroom (what’s the occasion anyway??) and he’s standing all the way at the back. poor hinata felt a fart coming so he just couldn’t... hold it in. mans SHARTED. shitted and farted at the same time. it stunk so bad that the guys in front of him said, “damn, you need the toilet more than me,” and let him cut in line.

USHIJIMA and tendou stopped to pet this dog during their walk. tendou’s conversing with the owner while toshi’s petting the dog. dog likes it, it’s all good. until... it got bored and decided that toshi’s butt smelled good. dog just wouldn’t stop sniffing his ass. “please, stop smelling me,” toshi says with desperation, which now catches the others’ attention. the owner has to pry their dog away from toshi’s ass cheeks, please. the awkward tension kinda dies down until tendou utters, “so, what’s your secret? what product are you using?”

YAMAGUCHI drank water in the middle of silent class reading. this boy started choking— and i mean choking on his water. you can hear his muffled coughs in the distance and when you turn around to look at him, his face is all red and his cheeks are puffy. none of his classmates say anything but you can practically feel second-hand embarrassment oozing around. the assistant teacher even has the audacity to say, “drink some water.”

KENMA’s calling this one his last try. he sticks his remaining coins into the slot and tries to get the brand new nintendo box thats in the machine. mf has been going at this for over twenty minutes now. his pouch is empty and there’s a crowd of kids waiting for him. no miracle happens in his last try (shit got stuck!!) so he has to move away only to watch in horror— as the kid after him manages to get it. you’re gonna have to hold kenma down before he hunts that kid with every bit of his soul.

DAICHI had a fat one coming in, that’s for sure. thought it was a free real estate just because everyone else in the camp seemed asleep. so he let that monster fart come out (even partly stuck out his thigh for better airway). whole team was awake in a matter of seconds. nishinoya’s jumped off his sleeping bag and asking everyone if they heard that “loud bang.” tanaka’s over here sniffing around because he knows that no one has got some kind of bomb that stinks.

SAKUSA’s not gonna admit to this one. but one time he opened a bathroom stall (it was unlocked) only to find that it was occupied. there are no words to accurately describe just how horried the sight was. sitting on the toilet was a man taking a shit, with his dick on full boner mode, staring back at sakusa. they only made eye contact for just 2 seconds but sakusa’s seen enough. he’s heard enough too, when said stranger asked him, “you wanna join me?”

ASAHI projectile vomited at the theaters. you should’ve known it was a bad idea to take him out to dinner before going to watch a scary movie. man had no courage to tell you he had an upset stomach nor tell you he’s not a fan of horror. it’s twenty minutes into the movie and he’s poking your arm— but you don’t notice because you’re too engrossed. another twenty minutes, and a jumpscare comes on. man beside you vomits like there’s no tomorrow. ya’ll spend the rest of the movie secretly trying to clean his throw-up.

TENDOU was watching anime in his dorm peacefully. until... the whole shiratorizawa team opened the door just in time for the show to switch up to an inappropriate scene. out of all the times they could’ve walked in, they really had to come when 2d clown man was moaning and fighting a kid? tendou scrambled to close his laptop but now he’s just staring back at his teammates; silent, except for the fact that his show is still playing and you can still hearing moaning in the background.

TSUKISHIMA turned his house upside down and still couldn’t find his glasses, nor his extra pair. he was about to leave bare eyed until his mom caught him and forced him to wear his sports glasses. yeah, the one with the whole strap and everything. mans looked like a fool coming to school with it on. people who didn’t know it was his sports glasses mistook it for swimming goggles. he’s so utterly humiliated now, he can’t even bite back when hinata or kageyama says something.

GOSHIKI... i don’t even know what to tell you. who let this kid go further into the lake by himself? it’s all fun and games for everyone until you hear an ear-defeaning shriek by your one and only goshiki. he’s yelling out, “help me! please! help!!” the lifeguards start kicking in and everyone’s trying to make way. is he drowning? is there something there? no for god’s sake. you find out he just made it 5 ft deep and happened to swim over a bunch of seaweed. never take him swimming again.

ATSUMU decided to check himself out using someone’s car window. he’s fixing his hair, picking at his teeth, and even checking to see if he has any boogers. all of a sudden the window rolls down and there’s a senior citizen staring back at him. “boy do you think my car is your mirror?” the man says in a gruffy voice. atsumu’s knees nearly buckle from how scary this man is and how embarrassed he is of all the four minutes he probably spent with this stranger.

SACHIRO’s job as a vet sometimes makes him do really questionable shit (from an outsider perspective). once he had to ejaculate someone’s dog in front of their owner. uh huh... jack them off, for the sole purpose of examining the dog’s semen. he’s never felt such a wave of regret wash through his body during that whole procedure. it didn’t help when the owner was looking at him mortified, nor the fact that it took such a long time.

OIKAWA does this thing were he shows up unexpectedly behind iwaizumi and slaps his ass. everytime he does it iwa always hits him back (but not the ass). today he learnt his lesson when he mistook a stranger for iwa and slapped the guys ass from the moon and back. when i tell you just how quick all the blood drained from oikawa’s body when the man turned around— you can hear a bag of chips fall at the other end of the aisle and it’s the iwa, who had to witness that whole ass-slap event.

ARAN is gonna knock the shit of the miya twins one day, he swears to god. they sent him a mysterious video during his morning walk, where he stopped at a busy street. it starts off quiet, so he goes to turn the volume up full blast. damn video suddenly started blaring ‘lick my pussy and my-’ please... he’s shaking. passerby’s are looking at him with distaste. aran’s now flushed from embarrassment and running towards the miya house. you can guess what happens next.

BOKUTO walked into the wrong house. spent a whole ten minutes rummaging around the kitchen because his friend said to “make yourself comfortable, i’ll be on my way.” little did this man know that there’s a whole family upstairs waiting for the cops to arrive because they think it’s a robbery. poor bokuto, dragged out of the house by some cops but had no idea what was going on. man was literally just vibing— thinking he was in his friends house.

OSAMU swore this size pants still fit him (hint: it doesn’t). he’s walking through the snack section of the store, lightly limping because damn his dick can’t breath. his truth is tested when he goes to pick something off the lowest shelf and his pants literally go, ‘let er rip.’ fabric tore, and what’s worse is that he was wearing onigiri undies. osamu goes to check if there’s anyone else in the aisle and there is— a group of underclassmen girls from his high school.

KUROO tried to make his chemistry presentation more interesting by putting in jokes. he thought they were funny; kenma even huffed a breath. kuroo’s at his third joke by now and literally no one has laughed. not a single one. except for kuroo himself, who’s awkwardly laughing in a dead-silent room. man was embarrassed. other people are getting second-hand embarrassment by the way they avoided eye contact with him. he vented to kenma later only for kenma to say, “it wasn’t funny. it was just stupid.” poor kuroo.

SUNA accidentally connected his bluetooth to the bus. you know, the one that drives all of inarizaki to their games. wanna guess what the fuck he might’ve been listening to? it’s porn. he’s watching porn in broad daylight. suna doesn’t realize what the issue is until he goes to turn up the volume and notices that the sound is off. he take his airpods off and that’s when he hears pure moaning sounds blaring inside the bus. everyone’s laughing— except for kita and their coach who’s still outside. mf calls himself lucky for that.

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sagemusesoutloud · 3 years

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Anti-Romantic, Part 3

(credit to the original owner of the image)

Character | Jaehyun x reader

Genre | nonidol!au, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Fluff, Angst

WordCount | 2.5 k

Author'sNote | I know I promised this would be up Monday, but life has a funny way of getting in the way sometimes. I honestly don't know what came over me, but I woke up at 3 am and just HAD to write this down. Hope you like it ^^

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Sorry I’m an anti-romantic, I want to run far away

My heart that already chases after you, Blazes up with a small flame

You begin to regain consciousness as the pain in your neck increases. Ugh, this is why you brought your pillow from home. Rolling your neck in the other direction, you reach your hand over from the warmth to fluff the pillow when you feel movement under you.

You freeze and open your eyes, the light so bright that you immediately shut them again. Once your watery eyes calm down, you try opening one at a time. The sun was shining directly on you from the window behind you, you’d guess it was probably early morning. What shocked you into panic mode was the fact that you were still on the sofa and not in the guest bedroom like you had planned last night. Lightly lifting your head, you peek over at Jae to find him still sleeping.

Sometime during the night, both of you must have shifted to a laying position on the couch. Jae was still under you, his arms wrapped around your lower back. Well, there are worse things to wake up to. But now that you were up, so was your bladder. Do you just get up and leave? You didn’t drink that much water; you eyed the half empty water bottle on the coffee-table. Yeah, you could hold it. You relax your body and plan to drift off again when you feel Jae’s chest move with a deep breath, stretching an arm over his head. Crap, maybe I should have moved earlier…is it gonna get weird? Will he be mad?

You’re so deep in thought, it takes you a while to realize he’s not pushing you away but pulling you closer. He places his arm back, this time cradling your head as he peeks at you. “You’re awake?”

“No, I’m sleep-talking.”

You feel him rather than hear him chuckle. He rolls you both over so that you’re lying side by side and able to see you better.

“We fell asleep on the couch…did you sleep ok?” the sun hits half of his face, one of his eyes shining a deep honey color. Even the dust motes help make him look ethereal. Curse him for looking so beautiful first thing in the morning.

“hmm, yeah. Don’t get too close though, I have eye-boogers,” you try to bring the blanket up from your waist but it’s stuck so you opt to covering your eyes with your hands.

“shut up, as if it weren’t normal,” he groans as he pulls you into his chest. “It’s still early, just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t”

“…You can’t?”

“no”

“oh…” he lets you go and scoots as far back in the sofa as he can, “sorry.”

“I’m just gonna go freshen up,” you say as try your best not to fall flat on your face trying to untangle from the blanket, “I’ll be back.” Your only response is a groan before he presumably falls right back to sleep.

As you take care of your business, you can’t help the heavy feeling in your chest. What you were both doing, was it wrong? Did something change or are you overthinking things? It’s happened to you before, where you get too ahead of yourself and end up in misunderstandings. You wanted to enjoy whatever step it was that you both took together last night, but you needed that reassurance or confirmation that it wasn’t all just in your head. Jaehyun would never hurt you, not intentionally. But his cold exterior had been known to break a few hearts here and there throughout your childhood. Heck, even at work nowadays. Now that you think about it, the only times he’s hurt you he hadn’t even been aware of it. You desperately wished you could just waltz right up to him and demand answers; you just didn’t want to make yourself look like a fool for diving straight in to the ‘something more’ stage.

Up until the night before, you had been content with the game of push and pull and if someone would have told you yesterday that what transpired the night before would happen, you would have thought they were joking, but…they do say that the body makes known what the heart wants. You were still in a mess when you realize that you’d been washing your hands for long enough that the water ran cold. You decide that now was a good time as any to wash your face and brush your teeth, combing your fingers through your hair. If he wasn’t going to say anything, why should you? Yeah, this is all probably too much too soon to mean something more, so you were just going to enjoy it while you can. If anything, this could be like a free trial before committing to the long-term subscription. Yeah, that’s simple enough.

You get back to the living room to find Jae still on the couch. An arm covered his face blocking the sun and the other splayed out next to him, an invitation. Or was it? Stop it. You can’t be the one to blame when he’s taking up the whole space. You pick up the blanket from the floor and lay it half on him, leaving an opening for you to slither into. Leaning over the sofa, you move the sheer curtains to cover half the window. they didn’t do much but Jae did move his arm in alarm at the change of lighting, “oh, you’re finally back.”

“yup, all good now.” You nudge your way back into his chest as you laid down facing the room. If you really were going to sleep, you don’t know how much rest you’d be getting if you were facing him again. “good, we can sleep an hour or two more,” his arm reaches around you to pull you even closer, “don’t want you to fall off.”

And there it is, the ‘excuse.’ Is that all this was?

It all felt so intimate and personal. Jaehyun wasn’t sure if the excuses he kept giving you since last night were even believable anymore. He just couldn’t get enough of your closeness. Like a man starved, he kept drinking in the sight of you next to him, the feel of your body along his. This had officially been his best birthday to date.

He was aware that some deep, deep part of him was tensed up waiting for something to go wrong or to bolt at the first chance. But for once, his heart was louder than those thoughts. He wanted this, he wanted to have you. All of you. In turn, he wanted to give you all of him as well. That’s what scared him the most, he’s known he’s wanted you since forever, but the fact that he needed to you to embrace all of him? That he needed you to be his safe space?

In a way, he’s always known about all of this. It’s why he’s kept you at a distance for so long, but maybe he was finally ready to open up to you and be completely honest and vulnerable. Fuck, he can’t even believe it took him this long to actually do something about it.

You both wake up later in the morning. Jaehyun’s preparing coffee while you whip up breakfast, an easy pattern you both fall into. He’s not sure if the silence is a comfortable one or a heavy one, but you did seem to be in a good mood. While he’d gone to freshen up, you had connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers and had a light melody playing. He makes a mental note to ask you over more often, he would gladly become a morning person just to see you fit so seamlessly in his home.

As you both settle down to eat, he hears you let out a gasp, “I forgot!”

“What is it?”

You whine, “aww, I wanted to give it to you on your birthday. It’s the whole reason I needed to see you.” You get up and dash over to the guestroom before he can even stop you.

“So you didn’t come just to spend time with me? Ouch,” he zeroes in on your form, hiding something behind your back. “Don’t tell me you got me flowers.” Your smile drops.

“No, they’re not flowers,” you roll your eyes. You pull his arm out, guiding your hand down until you grasp his hand. He hopes you don’t see the way he shivers at the contact. “Here,” you place the red-velvet heart-shaped box in his palm. He gasps, “oh.”

For a moment, he doesn’t know how to react. Is this what he thinks it is? No, you couldn’t possibly have, you for sure would be way more nervous if you did. But it did look like jewelry, expensive jewelry. “well, are you gonna open it?”

He wordlessly lifts the lid and finds an exquisite bracelet inside. Jaehyun wasn’t much of a guy for jewelry, but it was simple enough to be worn as everyday type of accessory. It was a thin silver type of chain, the clasp had his initials and a heart hidden on the inner-side of it. “Just so you know, the heart was part of the model,” you begin explaining, a nervous shake to your voice, “but I did ask them to engrave your initials on it to personalize it. You don’t have to like it, like I said, I saw it while out shopping and thought of you.” He glances at you to find your ears red but your expression was drawn. Fuck, were you even real?

He hands you the box back, for a second, he sees your shoulders deflate before clarifying, “I’m gonna need some help to put it on.”

“Why do you always tease me?” but you concede his request, taking out the chain carefully and pulling his wrist closer to you. Because I love you…

Because this is the only way I can show you affection without scaring you…

“Because I love your reactions.”

You let go of him as you finish your work, inspecting the way it looks. “I’m glad I knew your size,” you mumble, “it fits you perfectly.” He doesn’t miss the way he feels it weighing down his wrist. Was it a comfortable weight?

“Of course it does, you got it for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your eyes are piercing his, no doubt that your thoughts are probably going a hundred miles per hour. “What I just said,” his eyes are staring you down, “anything you give is perfect to me.” You weren’t going to make him spell it out for you, right? Not after last night.

You frown at that, “what if I don’t want to ‘just’ give you this?”

He finally looks away as he finds the courage to say, “what are you willing to give?” He’s treading carefully, he can’t mess up now.

“I don’t know.”

That stings. Are we back to playing games? So soon?

He’s tired of it. Forget tired, he’s exhausted from it. And all it took was one night to help him realize that he really doesn’t want to continue playing, not when it comes to you.

“Then, I would be happy for the time you spent together with me last night. I would be grateful it happened but I probably wouldn’t feel comfortable being that close to you again.”

Did he just say that? Maybe this was all a dream still. A cruel nightmare.

So he doesn’t want to move things further, is that what he’s saying? After all the moments you just shared, that’s all he’s got to say to you?

“I’m sorry I crossed the line then,” you need to go. Before you say something more and before he sees the tears that are just itching to be released.

You force out a laugh, “but thank you for being honest, I guess.”

You grab your plates and move towards the kitchen. Almost there, please don’t fall. He will not see you cry. God, you knew this was getting too good to be true. You knew it had to be a trick, you were back to square one! Man, you felt so stupid now. Did you really think one night would change everything?

You don’t realize he’s quick to go after you, grabbing your arm to face him. You let the plates crash on the sink, the sound startling him as you push his hold off you. You almost make it out the kitchen when he pulls you back again, this time pushing you against the counter standing chest to chest.

“No, you’re not listening to me.” He grabs you by the shoulders. Your heart is pounding furiously against your ribcage. You finally break down, “No, you’re not being honest.”

“If you had told me last night that I make you uncomfortable, I would have respected your boundaries, Jae.” You push down a sob, “If you had no intention of—of being that close—” You can’t even find the right words to express yourself. You spent so much time thinking about what you wanted to say earlier and now you couldn’t recall a single sentence.

He cuts you off with groan, “How can I make myself any more clear? What do you want me to say?” He lets go of you and takes a few steps back, “that it scares me? How much you know? How much you hold over me?”

“Hold over you?? You keep me at a distance! You always draw the line! Even last night, all you could do was excuse each and every one of your actions. What, you thought I wouldn’t catch that?? You don’t leave room for misunderstandings; you are crystal clear.”

You get close enough to poke his chest, “YOU—it was always you! I’ve always just been happy to go along at your pace. FOR YOU. And for years, too. So no, YOU don’t get to throw it back in my face like that. YOU—”

He pushes your hand away, “Me?! Ok no, you’re joking right? This push and pull cycle? I’m not the only one to blame and you know it! What about all those relationships you’ve been in? All those relationship questions you’d ask me, literally just a few weeks back! This is not entirely my fault either. Because guess what sweetheart, it takes two to tango.”

You’re so angry at upset, because how dare he?! Was he not the one that would sleep around in high school? The one that decided to study in a different freaking country?! Leaving you and your friends behind? Leaving the sport he oh so loved behind? He’s just running away again.

You don’t realize how hard you’re breathing and how close you’re standing until you can literally feel his breath on your lips. It’s the whisper you barely catch against the loud ringing in your ears, “You want me to be honest?”

You freeze.

“I’ll be honest with you, you can’t fault me for what I honestly need to do.”

Who made the first move, you’re not sure. But the moment his lips touched yours, it was game over.

EndNote | hahahaha... and there it is. Will there be more tension or are they finally gonna stop being so stubborn?? I honestly don't know, but this has to have been my favorite chapter to write 🙊

In the future, is it ok to post short but daily? Or would people rather I post the whole story in a single post?

Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4

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hughjidiot · 3 years

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Jelly Beans, A Sashannarcy Oneshot

So I’ve written a number of Sashannarcy oneshots that I’ve posted over on AO3 and figured it was about time I start sharing them here as well. So here’s the first oneshot, in which Sasha brings some special candy to spice up the girls’ weekly game night

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“BeanBoozled?”

Anne blinked in confusion as she beheld the colorful box Sasha was holding up. She and Sasha sat on the couch in the living room of the apartment they shared with Marcy, who at the moment was searching through the board game cabinet for a suitable game for their weekly game night.

“Picked it up while I was out running errands today,” Sasha said. “Thought it could be a fun way to spice up game night.”

“How are jelly beans gonna make game night more interesting?” Anne asked with a furrowed brow.

Sasha grinned and gave the box a shake, the candy contents rattling within. “Ah, but these are no ordinary jelly beans. There are ten colors, but twenty possible flavors. Each color can be something really good, or really really bad, and the only way to tell is to pop one in your mouth and hope for the best. Take a look.”

Sasha passed the box to Anne. Her eyes widened as she beheld the flavors on the back. “Birthday cake or dirty dishwater? Coconut or spoiled milk? Peach or barf!? Jeez, it’s like Russian Roulette with candy!”

“Nah, at least with Russian Roulette the odds are five-to-one in your favor,” Marcy said as she walked over to the couch, a huge stack of boxes in her hands. “With those it’s more like a coin flip. Heads you get a delicious bean, tails you get one that’ll make you wanna die.”

“Exactly,” Sasha said with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you say, girls? Wanna raise the stakes this week?”

“Sounds potentially disgusting and humiliating,” Marcy said, setting the board games on the table and taking a seat on the couch next to Anne. She grinned. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Anne said, smiling and handing the box back to Sasha. “What did you have in mind?”

Sasha hmmm’ed as she looked over the games Marcy was offering. “We need a simple game. Let’s see here... Clue, no… Cards Against Humanity, Settlers of Catan, Boss Monster… no, no, nope… Ah, perfect! Would You Rather.”

Sasha opened up the game in question, took out a stack of cards and began shuffling them as she continued speaking. “So here’s what I’m thinking: we each take turns drawing a card and asking an either/or question for the other two to answer. Anyone who picks the less popular option has to eat a random bean out of the box. Sound good?”

Anne and Marcy nodded. Sasha set the deck of cards down and drew the top one. “Cool, I’ll start us off then. Anne, Marcy, would you rather… punch a pilgrim or eat an avocado?”

Anne sputtered out a laugh. “What kind of question is that?”

“That’s just the game,” Marcy said with a shrug. “Some of the choices have logic to them, others are just completely random. I think I’d rather eat an avocado, they’re loaded with nutrients and can be used to make guacamole.”

“Avocado it is,” Sasha said. “Anne?”

Anne pursed her lips. “Well from what I remember from history class, the Pilgrims were kind of dicks… But I think I’ll go with the avocado too.”

“And those are your final answers?” Sasha asked her girlfriends. Anne and Marcy nodded. “Well congratulations! According to the card fifty-nine percent of people agree with you.”

Marcy and Anne high-fived. Sasha discarded the card and Anne reached for the deck to draw her own card.

“Okay Marcy, Sasha, would you rather… have no teeth or have no tongue?”

“Oof, that’s a tough one,” Sasha said. “Either one of those would make eating a pain in the ass.”

Marcy rubbed her chin. “I think I’d rather have no teeth. ‘Cause at least if you have a tongue you could still taste stuff.”

“But how would you chew with no teeth so you don’t choke and die?” Sasha asked.

“Well that’s what blenders are for. Plus no tongue means you can’t talk either.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll go with no teeth too.”

Anne nodded, discarding her card. “You and sixty-three percent of people. Congrats girls, no one gets to try the beans yet. You’re up Marbles.”

Marcy drew a card. “Sash, Anne, would you rather… sing everything you say or dance all your movements?”

“Sing everything,” Sasha said with a proud smirk. “After all, I’m a heart-stomper~! Stompin’ on hearts~!”

Anne and Marcy laughed. “Oh man I haven’t thought about our old garage band in years,” Marcy said. “We should break out the instruments one of these days, for old time’s sake.”

“Yeah but it’s been so long we probably suck,” Anne said. “Dancing was always more my thing, so that’s what I’m going with.”

“Ooh, first time two of us have picked different options,” Marcy said. She reached down for the BeanBoozled box. “Those are your final answers?” The other two girls nodded. “And the jelly bean goes to… Anne!”

“Aw, for real?” Anne asked as Sasha pumped a fist in the air. Marcy nodded and showed the text on the card: fifty-six percent of people would rather sing as opposed to forty-four who’d rather dance. “Damn it. Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

On the back of the box was a circle of the ten jelly beans with a built-in spinner. She gave the spinner a flick and watched it slow until it settled on brown. “Okay that’s… chocolate pudding or canned dog food? Oh boy.”

Anne picked through the box of candies, pulling out a single brown bean. She held the candy up between her thumb and forefinger, gulping audibly. “Well. Here we go…”

Marcy and Sasha watched with great interest as Anne plopped the candy in her mouth. She slowly chewed… and a smile graced her face.

“Oh thank God, it’s chocolate pudding!” She said, swallowing.

“Aw, well that’s no fun,” Sasha said with an exaggerated pout. “You were supposed to get a gross one so me and Marcy could laugh at your misfortune.”

“Hey, the night’s still young,” Anne said. “Don’t forget you could also end up with a gross bean, Sasha.”

“Well not this time, ‘cause it’s my turn to ask the question.” Sasha drew the next card of the deck. “Would you rather… be dangled over the edge of the cliff or forced to speak in public?”

“Dangled off a cliff,” Marcy said instantly.

“Really, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked flatly.

“You girls know how I am about public speaking! Why do you think I did most of the work during our group projects back in school and left the actual presentations to you two?”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about public speaking vs. being dangled off a cliff!”

“It doesn’t say anywhere that you actually get dropped!”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll still go with public speaking.”

“You and seventy-eight percent of people,” Sasha said. “Sorry Marcy, but the price of not having to speak in public is a gross jelly bean.”

“Totally worth it,” Marcy said defiantly. She picked up the box and flicked the spinner. “And I get… toasted marshmallow or stink bug.”

She plucked a brown-and-white bean from the box and plopped it in her mouth. She slowly chewed, and her neutral expression slowly morphed into disgust.

“Oh. Oh that doesn’t taste good,” she said. Her jaw moved again and she gagged, hand going to her mouth. “Oh that’s really not good!”

Anne tried to cover her giggle with a closed fist. “I don’t think she got the toasted marshmallow,” she said to Sasha, who openly laughed and slapped her knee. Marcy hunched over, face contorting.

“Ugh, it tastes like how stink bugs smell,” Marcy said with a grimace. “That sucked .”

“Could’ve avoided it if you just did a little public speaking,” Sasha said in a sing-song voice.

“Bite me, Sash,” Marcy grumbled. “Let’s see how you like it when you get one of those beans. Draw a card, Anna-Banana.”

Anne nodded and did so. “Would you rather own a mini horse or own a regular horse?”

“Ooh, I’d love a mini horse,” Sasha said with a smile. “They can actually be kept as house pets, right?”

“Yeah, but they still require a lot of upkeep,” Marcy pointed out. “If you’re gonna have a horse, it might as well be a full-sized one you can actually ride. I’d rather have a regular horse.”

“Well I’ve got good news Marcy, so would fifty-nine percent of people.” Anne said. Sasha crossed her arms with a hmph as Marcy smirked.

“Go ahead, take a bean Sasha,” Marcy said, holding the box out and giving it a taunting rattle.

“Fine, I will,” Sasha said haughtily. She accepted the box and spun the spinner. “And I got… buttered popcorn or rotten egg.”

Sasha quickly fished a yellow-and-white spotted jelly bean out of the box and quickly popped it in her mouth, face full of determination. Seconds passed as she chewed, Anne and Marcy watching her expression closely.

Finally, Sasha smirked.

“Buttered popcorn it is!” She said triumphantly. “Once again Sasha Waybright comes out on top.”

“Seriously?” Marcy plopped back on the couch, crossing her arms and letting out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m the only person who didn’t get a good bean yet!”

“Cheer up Marbles, I’m sure you’ll get a tasty bean at some point,” Anne said. “Now draw the next card, this is getting good!”

---

“Green,” Marcy said. It was a few questions later and she’d picked another lower option, choosing to only have access to games online along with thirty-three percent of people, compared to sixty-seven percent who’d rather have access to only Youtube. The spinner had given her a light-green bean to sample. “That’s juicy pear or booger? Oh jeez…”

She picked a green jelly bean from the box and popped it in her mouth, chewing tentatively. She retched, cheeks turning as green as the candy she just ate.

“Oh God it’s booger,” she said with a retch, to Anne and Sasha’s shared amusement. “ Blech, plech! Oh that’s foul!”

“Okay, so you got two bad ones in a row,” Anne said between giggles. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”

---

“More people would rather drink tea than coffee, are you for real?!” Marcy asked, incredulous.

“Well coffee is an acquired taste, and there’s like a million different varieties of tea,” Anne pointed out, having picked the tea option to the question Sasha had given.

“Yeah but… coffee!”

“We get it Marcy, you love your bean water,” Sasha said. “But you still picked the lesser option, so it’s jelly bean time.”

Marcy gave the spinner a twirl and grimaced. “Strawberry banana smoothie or dead fish?! Oh this isn’t gonna be fun.”

She dug through the box until she found a lightly-colored orange bean with red speckles. With a heavy sigh she tossed it in her mouth, and her face contorted in disgust almost instantly.

“Dead - ack, hack - fish!” She said between gags. Anne looked like she was caught between sympathy and amusement, while Sasha was openly laughing.

“Man Marcy, those beans really hate you,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

---

“Oh goodie, I got another one wrong,” Marcy said with a too-wide smile. “Silly me for thinking more people would rather die by drowning in a tsunami than throw themselves in lava.”

She let out a short, desperate laugh as she grabbed the box of jelly beans. “You know what? That’s fine, it’s fine. So what if three of three beans have tasted like garbage? One of them is bound to be good sooner or later. I mean if you flip a coin enough times, it’s bound to come up heads at some point. That’s just the law of averages, yeah.”

“Uh, I think that’s the gambler’s fallacy,” Sasha pointed out with a raised brow.

“Shut up and let me have hope, Sasha.” Marcy spun the spinner and giggled again. “Oh good, it’s peach or barf. That’s fine, that’s totally fine. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

She plucked another jelly bean out of the box, this one a darker orange with red flecks. She kept giggling, one of her eyes twitching.

“You sure you’re okay, Marcy?” Anne asked, concerned.

“I’m just peachy , Anne!” Marcy said, far too brightly. “Peachy like I’m sure this jelly bean will be!”

She stuffed in her mouth, chewing quickly. The smile remained frozen on her face even as her eyes began to water.

“Aaaand it’s barf because why not?!” Marcy doubled over, hacking and coughing. “Oh God it’s on the sides of my tongue!”

Anne gave Marcy a comforting pat on the back. Sasha just shook her head with a chuckle.

“Okay, maybe we should give BeanBoozled a rest before Marcy keels over,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it’s just getting sad.”

“No no, I’m fine,” Marcy insisted even as she kept gagging. “I can get a good bean at some point, I know I can!”

Anne and Sasha exchanged uncertain glances as Marcy grabbed the next card, it being her turn to read the question. “Okay, would you - blech - rather be a Jedi master or an elite Saiyan?”

“Ooh, I’d rather be a Saiyan,” Anne said instantly. “I love Dragon Ball!”

“Well I guess I’ll be a Jedi,” Sasha said with a shrug. “At least I’ve actually seen Star Wars. I’ve only seen like a handful of Dragon Ball episodes.”

“Well sixty-eight percent of people agree with you, Sasha,” Marcy said. “Sorry Anne, looks like it’s your turn for a bean.”

Anne nodded and spun the box’s spinner with a swift finger flick. Around and around it spun until it landed on blue. “That’s berry blue or toothpaste.”

“Aw man, you got an easy one,” Marcy said with a pout as Anne picked a blue jelly bean out of the box. “Toothpaste doesn’t even taste that bad.”

Anne looked to Marcy as she plopped the bean in her mouth. Marcy, who’d been unfortunate enough to get four terrible-tasting jelly beans in a row. She smiled as an idea formed in her brain.

“Hey Mar-Mar,” Anne said, voice slightly muffled with her mouth full.

Marcy looked up, and didn’t even have time to react before Anne pulled her in for a surprise kiss. Marcy’s face lit up as she felt Anne’s tongue push past her lips, too stunned by the audacity to offer any sort of resistance. Anne pulled away after a few seconds, and Marcy felt a familiar lump in her mouth.

“Oh my God!” Sasha laughed, a splash of red on her own cheeks as she brought a closed fist to her mouth. “Did you really just…? You didn’t! ”

“Yeah, I totally did,” Anne said proudly, blushing herself. “Well Marcy? What’s the verdict?”

Marcy’s face was burning as she slowly chewed, a pleasant taste spreading across her taste buds. “Berry…”

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sashannarcy

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers.

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!” Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!” With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.” You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago. Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.” At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.” Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!” Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face.

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

<-Previous Next->

TAG LIST @mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @mandoinevarro @kaermorons

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #self insert #bargaining with beskar

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the-singlest-pringle · 3 years

Text

A Sweet Song

Prompt 5 of Surprise from this list: "You got this for me?"

It was not common knowledge that Billy played the violin.

Read it here on AO3.

It was not common knowledge that Billy played the violin. “Not common knowledge” meaning there were only four people that knew: Max, Neil, Old Lady Garcia, and his music teacher from California, Ms. Petrov. Neil was never meant to find out, but after word of Billy’s first (and last) performance got out, Neil smashed his violin, along with his left hand. It wasn’t long after that when Neil caught Billy with a boy. Neil lost his shit, nearly beating Billy to death, then he packed up the whole family in less than a week and moved them to the boondocks.

It was now April, meaning it was nearly his birthday and also that it would be six months since he last touched a violin. The first few months without his violin were the hardest. Billy swore that he was going through withdrawal. His hands yearned for the violin, fingers itching to play. He longed to wrap his fingers around the neck, to slide his bow across the strings, and carefully finger out some Paganini. Billy would drive to the quarry and listen to his stash of classical music. One time he actually broke down because of it. His heart ached for his violin as he cried out in mourning.

Now that it’s been six months, he’s had time to adjust. He still gets that itch when his emotions are high, but Harrington helps quell his hunger. In fact, dating Harrington had been the best thing to happen to Billy in a long time. He was kind, caring, and provided the support that Billy desperately needed yet woefully lacked. He took care of Billy when he was hospitalized because of Neil (again) and was there for him when Neil lost custody and Hopper took him in. Billy was convinced that he loved Harrington, which is why he decided to add Harrington to the list of people that knew his secret.

It was a normal night, the Party gathering at the Wheeler’s for another Dungeons and Dragons campaign, when Billy said (out of nowhere), “You know, I used to play the violin.”

He and Steve had gone upstairs to grab more snacks, so they were alone in the kitchen. Steve was already attempting to balance two boxes of cookies and three bags of chips in his arms when he heard Billy. He started to clumsily juggle and drop the snacks while stuttering out a surprised “What? Are you serious?”

Billy chuckled at Steve’s shock. “Yeah, I am. I even performed at Royce Hall back in Cali once.”

“Bee, that’s amazing!” Steve exclaims as he crouches down to collect the snacks. “How come I’m just finding out about this now?”

“Well, only five people know about it, including you. And I felt that since we’ve been together long enough, you deserve to know everything about me, which means knowing that I play the violin,” Billy explains before quickly correcting himself with a, “Well, used to play.”

“You don’t anymore?” Steve asked.

“Nah. My old man made me stop when he found out.” Billy flexes the fingers of his left hand as he says this. “I played for nearly ten years in secret. I would tell my dad I had clubs after school, but instead, I would go to the music room and play.” He clenches his hand as he continues. “When Neil found out, he took a hammer to my violin, then to my hand to make sure I would stop.”

Steve sighed at the mention of Neil, making his way across the kitchen to take Billy’s hands in his. “Your dad is a dick and I hate everything he put you through.” He pushes a lock of hair out of Billy’s face and tilts up his chin so that they’re making eye contact. “I am so glad that you’re out of that situation and that you don’t ever have to deal with Neil again. I love you so much, okay?” Steve plants a kiss on Billy’s forehead for emphasis before Billy pulls Steve closer and practically smashes their lips together.

Billy smiles into the kiss, whispering out, “I love you, too,” before they’re interrupted by a familiar shrill voice that causes them to pull apart.

“Ugh! You guys are so gross !” Max says from the kitchen entryway. She was the only member of The Party that knew about Steve and Billy. Max made it a thing to point out how gross their PDA was, which she named DAFM (Displays of Affection in Front of Max).

“Yeah, shitbird? Well, you stink,” Billy quips.

“I do not, booger face!” Max retaliates.

“Carrot top!”

“Stupidhead!”

“Half-pint!”

“Shortstop!”

Billy gasps dramatically and feigns offense. “I am not short!”

Max rolls her eyes at that. “Tell that to every guy we know!”

“I’m literally taller than Jonathan,” Billy defends.

“That doesn’t count!”

Steve just sits back and laughs at the two siblings quarreling before intervening when the volume reaches near screaming level. “Alright, alright. Break it up, you two. You’re both shorter than me and that’s all that matters. Now can we head back downstairs?”

“Ugh. Fine, ” Billy and Max say in unison. Max makes her way downstairs as Billy and Steve gather the snacks.

Billy steals a kiss from Steve before they head down the stairs, Billy announcing his presence with a “‘Sup, fuckers? What’d we miss?”, earning him a smack to the arm from Steve. They settle into the couch, a comfortable distance apart, as the rest of The Party continues playing DND.

The next time Billy playing the violin is mentioned is during Billy’s birthday party. It’s a pretty lively event considering Billy had next to no one just months ago. But now he has a family and friends, all of which have gathered to celebrate him. Just thinking about it makes him smile.

Billy is about halfway through opening gifts when he comes across a rather large box. It’s covered in sheet music wrapping paper with a bow on top. Curiously, he shakes the box, causing Harrington to say “Careful! It’s fragile,” revealing that it’s from him.

Knowing the size of the box, the wrapping paper, and the person who gave the gift, it doesn’t take long for Billy to piece together what it is.

“No… no way,” Billy says while frantically tearing the wrapping paper off the box. That earns him a chorus of people asking what it is and a smile from Harrington. “I swear to god, Harrington, if this is a joke…”

Billy slides the case out of the box, unzipping it then opening it slowly. He stares for a few seconds, not fully comprehending what he’s seeing. Staring back at him is a brand new violin. The rest of The Party is eager to see the contents of the case, but all Billy can focus on is the instrument in front of him.

“You got this for me?” Billy asks, still not believing what he’s seeing. Steve nods in assent.

Before Steve can register what’s happening, he’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug from Billy to everyone’s surprise. The Party’s confusion only multiplies when they see that a violin is what caused Billy to hug Harrington. When Billy pulls away, he looks like he’s so happy that he might cry. Steve is sure that he almost does.

“Thank you so much, Steve. I- I don’t even know what to say.” Billy is stumbling over his words, so overcome with emotions. Back in October, he was so sure that he would never touch a violin again, but now that he’s free from Neil, he can do whatever he wants. And what he wants right now more than anything is to play.

Billy slowly takes the violin out of the case. He puts the shoulder rest on the instrument and rosins the bow a bit. Billy looks up nervously at Steve, silently asking for assurance. Steve smiles at him and gestures to the center of the rug as if to say “go ahead”. Billy can feel all eyes on him when he stands up. He doesn’t even know if his fingers healed properly, but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to play. So he gets up into position, takes a breath, closes his eyes, and starts playing.

The whole Party is in awe as they watch. It’s clear that Billy puts every emotion into how he plays. His fingers dance gracefully across the neck of the violin while his right arm moves the bow fluidly across the strings. His tone is practically perfect. An untrained ear wouldn’t be able to tell that he hadn’t played in over six months.

When Billy finishes, the whole room is silent before Joyce starts clapping. Then everyone joins in, Max leading a standing ovation. Billy blushes, embarrassed by the attention, but smiles at the praise, happy people enjoy him playing just as much as he does. When everyone finishes clapping, Billy is bombarded with questions and praises.

“Oh my god, that was amazing!”

“Since when did you start playing the violin?”

“What song was that?”

“How come you never told anyone?”

“I can’t believe that Billy Hargrove just played violin in my living room!”

Billy laughs out several “thank you”s as he puts the violin away in its case. “I started playing when I was seven,” Billy starts to explain. “The piece I just played is called ‘Violin Concerto No. 3 in B minor, Op. 61’ by Camille Saint-Saëns, and I never told anyone because of Neil.” The Party didn’t know the details of his situation with Neil, but gossip spreads quickly in a small town, so they knew Neil lost custody for some reason.

“Sweetheart, you played beautifully,” Joyce praised.

“You really did,” Lucas agrees, which surprises Billy.

“Could you play something else?” Dustin asks, exciting a chorus of agreements.

Billy doesn’t know if anyone besides Ms. Petrov has asked him to play. He’s still getting over the shock of it all. But he agrees. So he takes out his violin again. His violin. And he plays for The Party. He plays all night long, playing Bach to Beethoven, and even some rock songs. He plays until his out-of-practice fingers cramp. He plays because he’s happy. Billy feels fulfilled as ever with his friends and family around him, with Steve by his side, and with a violin in his hand.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #harringrove #harringrove fic

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freckles-and-jalapeno · 3 years

Text

First Snow

Word count: about 5K 🎧: this Originally I posted it on AO3 in 2 languages, English and Russian. Check it out if you'd like! Other than that, I hope u enjoy! 🌟

--------------

First snow...

No, we’re not talking about that pathetic, grey, mashed potato-like mud that makes your socks wet. It’s not those soggy pieces of cold white cotton wool, blown into the folds of your scarf by the wind. And it’s not that icy-cold frost that bites into your cheeks and ears, ruffles your hair and pierces the layers of your coat and sweaters. It’s that warm, pure December snow that quietly falls from the sky in soft flakes.

- What fine weekend weather we‘re having today! - happily said Tonks as she was crunching on her cheese toast. - Last week, you said exactly the same thing about the snowstorm - remarked Talbott, briefly looking up from his book "Transfiguration Tips for Young Wizards and Witches".

"What’s wrong with enjoying life?" Tonks would have answered, but since her mouth was still full of food, she only managed “Fffoosss wwonkk ittph eehooaaifff?”

Indeed, everyone at Hogwarts was in high spirits: the winter holidays were in full swing, half of the tables in the Great Hall were removed to accommodate beautiful Christmas trees, and students from different houses were allowed to sit together. Y/N, Tulip and Bill were the first ones to arrive for breakfast and attack the apple oatmeal; then Talbott and Tonks joined them. The air was full of joyful hubbub: the owls, who already delivered their morning parcels, were hooting and flapping their wings; students were rattling with their spoons and cups or loudly discussing the latest gossip from The Daily Prophet . And yet, there was one man in the castle who did not share the common joy.

Charlie has entered the Great Hall and tragically plopped down next to Tonks. - It’s a nightmare. I asked Francesca Wayne out on a date, and she agreed. - And... isn't that good news? - Bill gestured with his spoon of oatmeal towards his brother. Coincidentally, some oatmeal flew off the spoon, soared over the table and sludged right onto Barnaby’s shoulder.

- Her agreeing to go on a date with me was good. - Charlie said. - We were strolling around Hogsmeade, and everything was swell until some fifth-year Slytherin student unexpectedly jinxed me with the Tarantallegra charm. I began to tap-dance like a madman!.. And then it got worse. I was still dancing by the time Fitwick showed up. He did cast a counter-spell, but.. - Charlie covered his face with hands, and now was talking through his fingers. - ...by that time I had already managed to plummet into some mud nearby… I suspect it was porlock’s dung. It smelled all the same. Basically, I looked like a complete idiot ... oh, crickey!

Just at this moment they noticed a group of cute Hufflepuff girls passing by. For some mysterious reason, all girls had their hair gathered in a neat, long ponytail. The tallest gal from the gang stopped and waved in their direction.

- Hee-hee! Hiiiii Charlie! .. How are your legs doing today? ..

The feeling of shame caused Charlie’s face to take on a shade of beet.

- This is officially it. I quit girls. From now on, I will become a druid, go somewhere like Egypt and will only be dealing with dragons.

- Oh come on, Charlie! Don’t mind Francesca! - Y/N reassuringly patted her friend on the arm. - You know, I often see her in Potions class: she hides behind a cauldron and picks her nose, thinking that no one can see her.

- So true, - Tulip signed with her brows. - I bet she’s eating her boogers, too!

The whole company burst into loud laughter.

- But seriously though, - continued Tonks. - Let's forget everything about these bloody incidents and celebrate the weekend properly! Let's visit Hogsmeade, buy some butterbeer….

- Take a look at Zonko’s! ..

- Blimey, how could we forget about Zonkos’ for a split second?..

- Actually, this might be a good idea. I do need a new moke leather bag...

- I”ll get some sugar quills! ..

And so they agreed.

* * *

After shoving themselves into warm sweaters, hats, and mittens, they headed out of the Courtyard together. Bill, Charlie, and Tulip were walking in front, followed by Talbott, Y/N and Tonks. The group chatted about the upcoming semester and wondered which subject will have them writing most essays. Shortly thereafter, they met Professor Snape, grouchily making his way back to the castle, and they started proposing different versions of why he wasn’t around much these days and what mysterious business he was up to. Finally, they had an argument about what kind of festive pudding the elves would be making for the last day of holidays. Talbott betted galleons to Fizzing Whizzbees that the pudding will have strawberry flavor, Y/N voted for lemon, and Tonks - for cherry.

The road was gradually getting covered in white. Snow was sneaking into their boots, and the wind was merrily propelling them forward.

Suddenly, when friends were walking past a small brome grass field (now frozen and covered in snowdrifts), a large snowball glided through the air, furiously whistling all the while. It crashed directly into Tulip’s hood and majestically exploded with snowflake glitter.

- What the %#!*i9&! - angrily cursed the Ravenclaw as she turned around in search of the culprit.

Tonks was standing a little further away, now mockingly tossing another snowball up and down.

- Haha. One-zero, Karasu. C’mon you guys, we can't just walk away from this much snow.

Tulip shook her head to get the snow out her hair.

- Well, you're doomed, you little pink-haired witch! - she yelled and lunged herself at Tonks.

- Look at yourself, you tomato head! - metamorphine shouted in response and dashed away from her friend, laughing uncontrollably.

Unable to resist such good fun, the rest joined the battle, which was about to become the greatest strategic snowball battle in the history of Hogwarts.

They split into 2 teams. While one of his teammates was distracting the others, Talbott would conjure gigantic snowballs and avalanche them onto the heads of enemies via Wingardium Leviosa. Meanwhile, Tulip sneaked up on Charlie using a disillusionment charm; she grabbed his red hair and dipped him into a snowdrift right up to his neck. Bill, suddenly filled with brotherly instinct, jumped in front of Y/N and covered her from a charge of Tonks’ snowballs with his body. This sacrifice, however, turned out to be utterly useless, as the very next moment Charlie doubled the snow artillery in her direction; so much so that he knocked Y/N’s cap off.

At last, they tumbled in Madam Rosmerta's pub as one noisy lump of fun and laughter: cold, wobbly and covered with snow, but lively and carefree nonetheless.

- A table for six, please! - Tonks demanded in a jolly voice.

- For six? M’dears… - a low pitched, cackle-like noise came from a table at the very door.

It was professor Trelawney who tremulously perked up from underneath her thousand and one sherry-scented shawls.

- I think I heard I ... saw that you wanted a table for six? But did you know, m’dears, that the ancient scroll of prophecy specifically says NOT to sit down at a table on the sixth day of lunar December, if you are a group of six? The last one to sit down will lose a friend on the very same night ...

The group of friends exchanged puzzled glances. Of course, no one believed in Trelawney's predictions, but it was still very uncomfortable to hear things like that.

- Here, please. - Madam Rosmerta appeared in front of them before anyone had the time to reply to the terrible omen. She led the group up to a cozy table next to the fireplace.

- Blimey! What rubbish this old blind cat is saying this time? - Tonks hissed.

- Nonsense, like the usual. Every tea leaf class she’s now predicting a painful and a horrible death for just about everybody. Woo-o-o-o! Some dark forces are hovering over Hogwarts… - Y/N mimicked professor Trelawney’s voice and gestures. - But when aren’t they?

- Right. - nodded Talbott. - Besides, no one has died so far.

- Uh .. Well, who wants to sit down last? - Charlie asked hesitatingly.

- I’ll go! - volunteered Y/N.

- Suit yourself. - shrugged Charlie and hastily sat down.

- You don't believe those silly predictions, do you, Charlie? - Tulip settled down on a nearby chair. - Take a look, there are so many people around here sitting in groups of six. This doesn’t mean they will all lose a friend overnight ...

- Numerologically speaking, it is simply impossible, - added Bill and sat down, too.

Tonks sat down next to Bill. Talbott thoughtfully gazed at Y/N for a moment, and then he silently joined the others. Y/N was the last one to sit.

Without listening to friends’ endless squabble about Trelawney's competence, she stretched her legs towards fire, feeling blissfully warm and tired. Today was such a good day. And Madam Rosmerta is about to bring butterbeer for everybody! ..

- While we’re here, - Tulip cleaned her throat, - we need to make sure that there is enough of the wonderful drink for each one of us.

She took out her wand and pointed it at the glasses with beer.

- Engorgio!

The glasses had grown twice in size. They weren’t glasses anymore, really - they were jugs.

Bill raised his jug in the air:

- Let's drink to friendship! - To loyalty! - To honesty! - To dung bombs! - To holidays! - To Hogwarts!

Comfortably nestled at The Three Broomsticks, friends were clinking their glasses and drinking, and then some more, and a little bit more. At last, when everyone started to feel the soothing and flushing effects of the caramel liquid, Tulip grabbed a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards from her coat.

- Alright, friends. How about we play some truth or dare? - she suggested.

- Since when does truth or dare require cards? - argued Charlie.

- Since today, you silly redhead. Highest card gets to ask. Lowest card gets to answer. I'll start, you chickens... Y/N, take one card, too.

Y/N stretched her hand forward and caught a card that jumped out of the deck. One moment later, the two girls smashed their cards onto the table. Charlie declared:

-Three of feathers and a phoenix. Hey, Tulip wins!

Tulip let out a wide mischievous grin.

- Y/N, tell us the truth then. Marry, flip, kill: Penny, Merula, Charlie.

Bill and Tonks immediately started to giggle and nudge each other with their elbows. Talbott and Charlie, on the other hand, straightened up in their chairs, leaned forward and stared at Y/N solemnly, without blinking.

After some thinking, Y/N tilted her head to one side and replied:

- Okay, I think I got it. I’d marry ... Charlie.

Tonks let out a loud whistle.

- I ... Uuhhh thanks I guess? - responded Charlie, blushing furiously.

- I would flip ... Merula. - continued Y/N.

- You mean you’d flip the greatest witch at Hogwarts? Ha-ha, that’s an interesting choice. - Tulip mightily slapped Y/N on the shoulder.

- Wow Tulip. - Talbott gingerly proceeded to remove Tulip’s hand from Y/N’s shoulder. - You pronounce “horrifying” differently than I do.

- Wait, so this means that you kill ... Penny? - Bill's jaw dropped in astonishment.

-Don’t get me wrong ... - explained Y/N. - She’s nice and all, but sometimes I get this feeling that she’s following me everywhere… and I mean everywhere. So yeah.

- Poor Penny. The sun-like creature who is always happy to see you. - Talbott chuckled. - And now, she has to DIE.

Their table shook from the loud cackling.

Brilliant! - Tulip clapped her hands. - The first round is over. Y/N, you won, now you get to choose who draws cards next..

Y/N chose Bill and Tonks.

- 7 of wands and 9 of stars! That was a close one, Bill. - Tonks’ face glowed up and her hair turned raspberry color. - So here is your dare, William...

- Oh no, no, no ... - Bill grabbed his red hair and started to crumple them.

- Don’t fret, dear Bill! I like you, so I will provide you with options... You can either ask Ismelda for a kiss or... you can kiss a garden gnome’s tummy!

Y/N and Talbott simultaneously snorted into their butterbeer glasses, almost choking on the drink. Bill, on the other hand, looked like someone had just asked him to drink a cup of newt’s goo.

- What bloody hell is this, Tonks ?? - he howled from annoyance and smashed his fists on the table. - There are NO gnomes in here!

- Most certainly there are. - Tonks replied calmly. - Take a peak at that table in the corner.

The table in the corner was taken up by Hagrid. He was quietly cooing with a small potato-like creature he had brought to the pub - apparently in secret from Rosmerta. At this very moment, he was feeding colorful Bertie Botts beans to the gnome.

- Merlin's saint underwear! - Y/N whispered reverently - It looks like Hagrid knitted a suit for him ...

And surely so, if one was to look closely, the gnome was dressed in a blue sweater and coarse-knit socks that were almost reaching the creature's thighs (if garden gnomes have thighs, of course). By some unknown coincidence, the gnome had no pants at all.

Bill looked at Tonks with the most touching expression Y/N had ever seen in his eyes.

- Can we play without the kisses?

- Hey, come on. I'm not asking you to kiss a Dementor, aren’t I? - Tonks just laughed in response.

(read here if you want Bill to kiss Ismelda)

I can't believe I'm doing this. - Bill shook his head. - I'll go out there and ask Ismelda for a kiss.

Charlie delightfully roared "Hallelujah!" and let a few green sparks out of the end of his wand. Tulip, Y/N and Tonks began to synchronously thump on the table and whisper: “Smooch! Smooch! Smooch! Smooch!”... Talbott threw his hands behind his head and settled himself more comfortably on the bench, getting ready for the spectacle.

... As a prisoner goes to be executed on a guillotine, that is how Bill Weasley was approaching Ismelda. The Slytherin gal was chatting with her fellow students at the bar.

- Check it out, it looks like she noticed him ... - Tulip started to comment on the action. - He’s telling her something ... great, they have contact! Come on, come on ....

- I almost feel sorry for him now - announced Charlie.

- Never let me forget this, ok? - Talbott smiled lazily.

Nobody else had the time to add anything because in the next second, the pub was filled with Ismelda’s shrilly wails, immediately followed by the ones of Bill. The girl, as one might expect, went absolutely berserk at Bill’s proposal and wacked him in the eye with all her mighty strength.

- Left hook! Fa-la-la…. A punch to the stomach! Fa-la-la ... And our hero returns ho-o- ome! .. - friends began chanting Bill's name merrily, with no tune or tempo whatsoever, which attracted even more attention to the oldest Weasley.

- Somebody please tell me why I became friends with a bunch of brainless doxies.. - Bill muttered under his breath as he was sitting down. He tried to say it with the most serious expression there is, but all the while his lips were quivering from a suppressed smile.

(read here if you want Bill to kiss the gnome)

- I can't believe I'm doing this. - Bill shook his head. - I choose to kiss Hagrid’s gnome.

- On the tummy! - abruptly corrected him Tonks. - Otherwise, you'll have to redo the dare!

- His tummy looks like pumice, did you know that? It’s crusty and hard and got some weird flakes falling off of it… And it smells just like my Great Aunt Tessie’s feet! - Bill exclaimed in anger.

- Stop whining! Just go already. While we sit here and enjoy ... - one could hear pure delight in Charlie’s voice as he was (for once) telling his older brother off.

Bill let out a sad sigh, got up from the table and started to make his way towards Hagrid. Apparently, the giant was not very happy to see him - the garden gnome would be considered quite a contraband for Madam Rosmerta, and she could forever ban Hagrid from The Three Broomsticks.

- Crickey, it's starting now! - excitedly squeaked Tulip.

The company stared at the show unfolding in front of them without blinking.

- Ah, it seems that the birds started chirping, can you hear? - Talbott said quietly.

- Fountains are sparkling, little hearts are flying in the air! - continued Y/N.

- Oh gosh, oh look! Oh, he’s kissing him!

As a matter of fact, it seemed like the angels themselves started crooning the moment Bill's lips softly touched the gnome’s belly button.

The friends doubled over with mirth. Tonks laughed so hard that butterbeer and snot started spewing from her nose.

But the gnome, as it occurred, did not like being distracted from his bean feast at all. The creature got even more upset as all the boundaries of his personal space were violated, and probably that’s why he suddenly growled and bit Bill’s nose. "Crunch!" - the sound echoed throughout the pub. Bill angrily yowled and burst out in obscenities. Now all the eyes in the pub were watching in his direction only.

- Yeh… What are yeh doing?! Stahp scaring the baby ... - Hagrid said gruffly and hid the gnome in his pocket. - Go back to yer’ friends, now, or he’ll start molting from stress .. And tis’ the worst, you know ...

Bill returned to their table, still rubbing his swollen nose in frustration.

- Oh, hey, Father Christmas! Did you bring us any gifts? - Charlie mused.

- I brought you a whipping, reptiloids... - Bill replied with the most serious face he could make, but his lips were quivering from a barely suppressed smile.

* * *

It was getting dark. While the group of friends was drinking and enjoying themselves at the pub, Hogsmeade was slowly being enveloped by velvet darkness. One after the other, the stars were lighting up. Here and there, windows of little shops and huts were blossoming in shades of orange. The garlands and wreaths, untouched after the holidays, were glittering with frost. Now there was cheerful music emerging from Madame Rosmerta's pub - those were the local musicians. They were playing flute, lute and tambone. One of the guests, who had a pig's snout instead of a nose, joined the musicians and started to grunt and beat on the drum. Many visitors picked up this joyous tune and began clapping and tapping to the beat - slowly at first, then faster and louder. One of the guests - a bubbly witch dressed in a lilac robe and a pointed hat - jumped from her chair, knocking over a mug of fiery whiskey, and began to dubstep dashingly with a goblin in a tweed jacket.

- Wowza, it's getting hot in here, - Bill said, wiping his beer mustache away. - Let's have the last round and head back. Talbott and Charlie, now it's your turn.

- My pleasure, - replied Talbott and drew a card.

Charlie drew a card with a higher suit.

- A perfect ending for a perfect day! As you can see, I'm a man of many talents, not only Quidditch. - Charlie boasted and gracefully ran his hand through his hair.

- Uh, yeah, except that quidditch sucks, - Talbott raised his eyebrows.

- You suck! - Charlie blurted.

- Mmm ... not as much as quidditch. - smirked Ravenclaw in response.

The young Weasley's cheeks turned so red that one could easily fry eggs on them if they wanted.

- Fine. Okay. If you do hate quidditch that much, maybe you’d care more for dancing? I dare you, Talbott Winger, to go out there and have the best time of your life on the dancefloor - yes, IN FRONT of the musicians! But of course I can’t let you suffer alone - sarcastically added Charlie. - Go ahead and invite someone to dance with you… if they agree to dance with a haircut like yours, that is.

Talbott squinted his eyes and examined Charlie’s face in disbelief.

- Uhhh ... I look cool.

- Pffft. Whatever you say. - the redhead let out a cheesy grin.

- I say I look cool. - Talbott replied calmly.

Tulip and Tonks audibly snorted.

- Now then… Who will be the lucky one to have the ultimate all-inclusive Talbott Winger experience? - asked Bill and started to tap his fingers on the table. The rest of the group picked on this beat and joined Bill, making the sound be a very accurate drum roll.

- Hmmm ... I know just who to take on this adventure. Y/N... would you like to dance with me? - asked Talbott and offered her a hand - I promise not to step on your toes more than three times.

- Oh? I thought you “fly solo”... - teased him Y/N as she was taking his hand and getting up from the table.

Talbott didn’t answer, just sighed and rolled his eyes at her.

The two entered the dance floor in an uncertain and shy manner. A new festive holiday song was just beginning. Another vocalist stepped onto the stage, bowed, and dimmed the pub lights with Nox . He then casually flicked his wand, created a few golden and silver wandering pellets of light, and then sent them floating around the pub. Soon, the music began to play, and the vocalist started singing in a heart-warming voice:

Last Christmas, I gave you my Hippogriff,

But the very next day, you gave it away...

Y/N felt that the majority of gazes were directed at her and Talbott - not at the singing wizard. What a strange feeling - to be in the spotlight. It got very hot; she felt a few sweat drops form and slide down her forehead. Talbott looked at Y/N with a weird expression on his face. He seemed to be slightly uncomfortable, too. Without changing his bewildered expression, he took Y/N's hands and placed them on his shoulders, then dropped his hands on her waist.

- Talbott ... I hope you know what you’re doing? - Y/N inquired quietly.

- What kind of question is this, of course I don’t know what I’m doing. - said Talbott with feigned confidence.

- Now I get it. You're winging it, Winger!

Both dancers burst out laughing. The tension was released. They began to move, jump and spin to the beat of the music. And even Merula's screams about how they looked like two prancing warty frogs could not spoil their mood. Maybe they weren't professionals and had no idea what they were doing, but they were having a lot of fun together.

The song ended. To Y/N’s great surprise, there was an applause from the audience! Someone from the crowd even threw them a bright, fragrant bouquet of orchids, freshly conjured from the air.

- For the record, I hate dancing. But it wasn’t all that horrible with you around. - Talbott said bashfully. - Maybe I should have gathered my courage and should have gone to the Celestial ... you know ...

Talbott and Y/N returned to the table, slightly out of breath after the dance and still holding hands. “Two brooos !! chilling at the Three Broomsticks! Five feet apart ‘cause they’re not friends!” - the others hollered and cheered and greeted the two back.

- Will you just shut up?.. - chuckled Y/N as she was letting Talbott's warm hand go.

* * *

It was time to return back to the castle. Friends were getting dressed in silence. All their wet clothes had almost dried up by the fire, and for those pieces that weren’t dry yet, they used their wands. Before leaving the pub, Y/N gave the bouquet to Madam Rosmerta. At the very exit, Trelawney's warnings came back to Y/N. It was so scary to think that on this night, according to the prophecy, she would lose a friend, and so she chased those thoughts away. As soon as the group stepped outside, contrast between the warm pub and icy cold air made them cough. Sniffing and cursing from freezing weather, they rushed towards Hogwarts down the snow-cleared path. This night was especially quiet: there was only the sound of snow creaking under their feet, and from time to time there came a bird’s distant cry.

- Bloody hell, we never bought anything, - Charlie complained in annoyance.

- Well… Let it burn, then. It will just be added to that list of four hundred things I have to do tomorrow ... or the day after ... or after.. or after .... - Tonks answered him with a loud yawn.

Friends were already approaching the doors of the castle when Talbott deliberately started to slow down. He stopped right in front of a path fork that was turning off the main road and leading to the owlery.

- Ummm... I need to send a letter to someone, - he said shyly, milling about the path. - Care to join me, Y/N?

“Hmm .. that’s a strange request, it’s practically nighttime... Something is fishy (pardon me, birdy) here.” - Y/N thought in her head, but out loud she only said:

- Uhh .. okay, sure. Let’s go.

After all, Talbott was her friend, and she had no reason to mistrust him.

The group of friends said their goodbyes and parted ways. Talbott and Y/N turned to the owlery. Tulip was waving at them a very long time after that, until their silhouettes blurred out, enclosed by the veil of snow.

Several minutes had passed since Talbott and Y/N were alone together. They were strolling down the path and talking about all sorts of things that happened during the past few days. The two of them were approaching the little towers of the Owlery rather quickly, and now only a small meadow was separating them from a brick staircase leading upstairs. In the summertime, the meadow was blooming with daisies and dandelions and was serving as a perfect playground for Puffskeins and Knarls. But now, the meadow seemed to have stopped in time: bare bushes were the only thing that was left from thick flowering plants; icy ground was tightly intertwined with fallen grass and wrapped in snowdrifts. Here and there, towered a few cedar pines, spruces, and chestnuts, but now they all were covered with white snow dust. For some reason, Talbott stopped walking towards the Owlery when they reached this meadow, and he began searching for something in his pockets. Finally, judging by the way his face lit up, he found what he was looking for. Aloof animagus beckoned Y/N closer. He was clutching something in his fist. As soon as Y/N approached, he opened his hand; there were two small luminous grains lying on his palm.

- What are these, Talbott? - said Y/N in quiet astonishment.

- These are midnight mint seeds, - he replied. - Professor Sprout gave them to me this Christmas.

- I have never heard of them…

- These are very rare. They can only be harvested once a year from underneath ash flowers. In places where you plant them, blood will never be shed again. - Talbott remarked in a lowered voice.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at the grains. They seemed alive.

- Don't be afraid, touch them.

Y/N carefully raised her hand above the luminous grains and covered them with it.

- They’re warm! - not expecting that, Y/N let out a smile from ear to ear.

Talbott nodded. He looked straight into her eyes.

- I kept looking for an opportunity to plant them. Today seemed very special to me, and I decided to do it now. With you. If you want to.

- I ... of course I do! - Y/N’s cheeks and neck were rapidly getting covered with blush. - But aren't seeds planted in the fall?

- Not these. These should be planted in winter. They can only be planted under snow.

Y/N and Talbott knelt down and started preparing the soil for the seeds. They dug up a sufficient amount of snow, and then carefully placed glowing grains onto dead grass. They covered them with several layers of grey leaves and twigs, and then put a dense snow blanket above it all. But even through all these layers, the magic light of the seeds was shining through. Moreover, it seemed to have intensified and was now pulsating. For a brief instant, the pulsation stopped, and little blue stars began to emerge from under the snow, where the seeds were planted - similar to mini-fireworks. The stars took off and fell, crumbling and shattering into smaller pieces and dust. But the most spectacular thing that two friends were now hearing was... singing. It was a wonderful, calm and solemn melody without words. It was sung by the grains! Y/N had never heard such music before; she felt how her heart was opening up because of this melody. If someone had looked out of the Owlery window at that moment, then through the veil of a starting blizzard, they would have only distinguished a soft blue light illuminating two young faces floating above it.

The singing ceased; the blue light also faded away. Friends were silent for a minute, as if they were afraid to destroy the soothing feeling that the magical grains have produced within them. Finally, Talbott said in a hushed voice :

- You know, I didn’t actually need to send any letters. I just wanted to spend some time with you but without those dorks. So ... Thank you for being here with me.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he was smiling softly at Y/N.

- It was my pleasure, - she answered quietly.

Talbott rose and brushed the snow off his knees. He then reached out his palms towards Y/N to help her get up, but he did not let go of them after that.

- There was something else. Care for one more dance with me?

For the second time during that evening, Y/N and Talbott were dancing together. But this time it was so much different than it was in the pub!! Instead of all the noise and din of The Three Broomsticks, soft spruce paws were playing them a silent symphony of winter. It was a melody of silence, a melody of bright joy, a melody of snowflakes and wind. This melody cannot be heard unless one would actively try to listen to it. The snow was falling inaudibly. It was cascading from the sky in large flakes, performing a couple of waltz motions with the dancers, and then laying down on the ground and sparkling merrily under their feet. These instants were filled with a sense of miracle: without any magic or magic wands.

- You know, dancing like this is so much better than having to dance while hundreds of thousands of eyes are staring at you. - Y/N noted.

- Agreed.

Gradually, without noticing it themselves, two friends stopped dancing. They were now standing across each other, looking at individual snowflakes on their faces and hair. Every now and then, several small crystals would shiver and gravitate down, but they would never reach the ground as they would melt in a cloud of frosty haze from their mouths. It was very quiet now. Soft light was being reflected from snow and onto their cheeks, flushed from the cold.

- We might freeze this way. - said Talbot, slightly smiling.

Slowly and gently, he unwound his blue and silver scarf and wrapped it around his own neck first, and then around Y/N's neck; now their heads were even closer to each other, connected by knitted threads. Y/N could see his face much more clearly now. She could see glitter in his brown eyes, his every eye lash, every mole, she could smell the herbal scent of his shampoo ... she could even feel the warmth of his breath.

- What I actually wanted to tell you, Y/N, - Talbott said softly, - is that the longer I think about it, the more it seems to me that professor Trelawney was right about her prophecy.

- H-how do you mean? - stuttered Y/N.

- You’re about to lose a friend because I don't think ... I don't think that I can stay friends with you any longer ... I want to be much more than that, - Talbott whispered and leaned over toward Y/N's lips and kissed her.

It was a light, subtle kiss, but Y/N could clearly feel the warmth gently spreading among her skin. And then, another kiss followed … and one more ... and one more.

All the while, the snow was falling - soundlessly, tirelessly, tenderly.

* * *

Much later, after going back to her dorm in the Gryffindor Tower, Y/N had been sitting on a windowsill for a very, very long time. She was looking through a window, wreathed by frost: at the icy lake, at never-ending fields, covered with silver and at the...

First snow.

46 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

From: Cace, Jae, and Calum

Cace and Calum meet at a Christmas and for being in their mid to late twenties that’s feels right. But things change when a baby gets involved and Calum just wants his best friend to enjoy her time, especially at the holidays.

Female OC. Uncle Cal. Baby fluff. Enjoy!

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__________________

Calum giggles mostly to himself, his index finger wrapped up in the fist of his nephew laying on his lap. Well, he’s not technically his nephew by blood but the bond is still all the same. Calum never misses an opportunity to show off his picture to anyone that will give him the change too. Jae looks so much like Cace it’s insane but he gets it now, all the comments he and his sister used to get, and even now. Calum met Cace only two years ago while at a Christmas party thrown by someone that he can’t remember. They found each other by fate, as Cace liked to say.

Calum had been nursing his one drink for only half an hour before flipping the switch, rather than sulking, he was going to enjoy himself. Nothing too far, or too crazy but Calum knew he was definitely going to need a ride back home and he was going to enjoy the night. And it was in that, going back for another drink that Calum tripped. Nearly face planted with someone caught him with a laugh. “Let me guess, you’re not normally this much of a klutz.”

He laughed in return, still holding onto the girls forearms. “Give or take.” His balance returned soon, but his hold never fell away. He wasn’t sure if he had seen her around before, outside of the party. She looked so familiar. But in the drunken cloud taken over his brain he couldn’t answer his own curiosities.

“Cace,” she states.

“Calum.”

“And you might want a water at least one before going for whatever else tickles your fancy on this spread.” She guided him towards the drinks and snacks and quickly tossed him a bottle of water. “Drink up, buttercup.”

“Thanks,” Calum said, watching her turn to head back to the depths of the dance floor. “Hey, Cace,” he called out. When she turned, eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side, Calum had a shot prepared, raising up into the air. “Oh, don’t make a man drink alone.”

Cace walked back over with a grin on her face. “You know it’s bad luck to cheers with water right?”

Calum’s sly grin never wavered and he pulls up a second shot prepared. “Just give me two minutes to finish this water and no bad luck for us.”

And that brought them to grabbing lunch on Cace’s breaks--while she’s no singer, she does know her way around a contract--hanging in studios, the two of them taking day trips to get away from the noise of the city. Calum would ask for advice and Cace, being a year and a half older, happily gives it. But for all the advice she can give, Cace’s track record in the dating department wouldn’t ever show for it.

Jae kicks a little but a grin lights up his face. Calum laughs, stroking a finger along his cheek. “Hey, hey, what’s got you all giggly?” Calum’s voice is soft. The couch dips just a little next to him and Calum looks over to Cace.

Her smile is soft but still clearly holds the exhaustion that she hasn’t been able to shake yet. “How long have I been out?”

Calum keeps a hand on Jae’s tummy before sliding back into the cushions. “Not long enough. You’re off Mum duty. Remember. Uncle Cal and Nephew Jae taking the world by storm--no mum’s allowed.”

Cace scoffs, pushing up to to glance at the clock on the wall. “By the looks of it, it’s been an hour and a half and you haven’t left my house.”

Giving Jae’s tummy a rub, Calum tries to hide his smile. “Little booger here preoccupied me.”

“Oh just admit it, he’s too stinking cute.” Cace stares down at her son, watches the way he giggles and coos at the tickle of Calum’s fingers. “Like really stinkin’ cute,” she states in a whisper. For the moment she tried not to think too much about how she could kill the son of a bitch that got her pregnant only to bolt--though Cace wasn’t sure she’d call it bolting. He had a line of women and as Cace steadily refused to give up her baby, he went onto the next.

“I know that murdery look in your eyes. You’re exhausted. That guy’s a dick. But you have a happy and extremely healthy baby boy. Take the day, Cace. You deserve it.”

Cace sits up, folding her feet under her. “I love my son. I just wish he wouldn’t have any pain.”

“Jae’s got Uncle Cal, and Uncle Ashton, and Uncle Michael, and Uncle Luke. We’re all he’s going to need--you’ll be there for his first crush and we’ll beat up bullies.”

Cace laughs, hand rubbing gently over Jae’s head as Calum rests Jaue against his chest. “I’ll be there to beat up bullies too.”

“I did say we,” Calum grins, the twinkling lights of her decor. Her living room’s already been decorated. He helped last weekend with that and even helped her put a tree. “You know what you need?”

“You already told me it was sleep.”

“In addition to sleep,” Calum starts. The tree’s beautiful. Cace always makes sure of that for Christmas. “You need Christmas photos in cheesy matching outfits with your baby boy and we’ll send them out to your family and make really bad Christmas ornaments and we’ll stamp Jae’s little hand on one and you’re going to enjoy this holiday season with your son and your best friend.”

“Do you remember the Christmas party we met at?”

Calum nods. “Of course I do. And this year will be the absolute opposite of that, but it’ll be good for you, Cace.”

There’s a moment silence. Cace studying the feature of Calum’s face and Calum studying the features of her. She notices the worry on his face, the way it pulls down his lips and makes his eyes dimmer. He notices the bags, but a certain bright spot in her eyes. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Homemade Christmas ornaments and cheesy photos. I’ll go get dressed.”

“No, no, you stay home. Rest up. I’ll go out and get what we need. Jae can tag along. He gets a vote in the really cringe onesie I buy him.”

“Cal, c’mon. Jae gets fussy sometimes and in a mood. I don’t want you have to tackle that all on your own.”

“Cace, let me do that. For you. Just one day. I know Jae, when he gets fussy I check diaper first, try the bottle second, and if that doesn’t work. you taught me the swaddle. We’ll take five and I’ll make him a cozy bean wrapped in his mum’s smelling blanket,” Calum punctuates the part by tugging on the blanket Cace snuggled up with in her sleep, which admittedly she might be just a tad too big for, “and he’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Pushing to her knees, Cace holds Calum’s cheek in one hand. Calum didn’t have to step in. Surely, there were better things to do than go with Cace to appointments and stay home on nights when she knew the guys were out. And he helped put together the nursery. He got the guys to help him too, but Calum would be on the receiving end of 7 am phone calls to fold baby clothes and lift packages into her house when she got too big to bend over or lift anything.

“You’re more than a girl could ever ask for, you know?”

“Good thing you didn’t ask for me.”

Cace rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no, I called it fate. But still, I appreciate you. For everything. It means a lot.”

Calum kisses her cheek. “You’re welcome. Now, text me what size you wear and then go back to sleep. Shower first. I can smell you.”

A chuckle escapes Cace’s throat. “That’s-that’s not me, Cal.”

“Oh, Jae, buddy.”

With Jae in a fresh diaper and the diaper backpack Cace keeps packed at all times on his shoulders, Calum straps Jae into the carseat he bought for his own car. Cace told him to just use the one she had, but Calum wanted one in his car, just in case he needed it for emergencies, for Uncle and Nephew days. His phone shakes in his pocket as he connects the last buckle into the middle. “All good? Snug in there?”

Jae’s on the verge of sleep, and Calum knows the ride will lull him right into the deep sleep. Calum responds to his own question. “Yeah, Uncle Cal, I’m snug as hell. Drunk of some milk. But, oh, boy, was it good.”

I wear a XL. Still have baby weight. Who knows if I’ll loose it all.

A sigh escapes his lips. Cace hasn’t let the baby weight fixation go. She lost some of it, but the last little bit was still holding strong. You know XL just means extra love, right?

What happened to the e then?

Xtra Love. It’s cool guy spelling. You look great. You had a baby. Give yourself some kindness.

Cool guy spelling for Cool guy Cal.

Yeah, something like that. It doesn’t shock Calum that she doesn’t respond to the other parts of his text.

Calum makes his first venture to the craft store. It’s the furtherest stop on the agenda today, so he heads there first. Jae sleeps the majority of that stop, even with all Calum’s wondering up and down aisle he doesn’t seem bothered. Calum gathers some popsicle sticks, glue, felt, glitter, various body safe paints, string, ribbon, and everything else he can think of. He knows it’s going to be a mess, but what’s Christmas without a little bit of a glitter bomb.

Jae sings, or as close to singing, from the backseat as the radio plays. At a red light, Calum glances back. “Huh, that was a nice nap you got in. Let’s hope your mum got the same.”

Calum knows by the parking lot this store is going to be a bit crowded and noisy. But it’s the first one he could think off that would family matching onesies. Calum figures instead of the stroller he’ll strap Jae to his chest. Hopefully that will keep him calmer seeing as the little guy’s still not totally a fan of a lot of noise. He does alright by prolonged exposure makes him just a tiny bit fussy.

It’s a good sign when Jae looks around, eyes bright. “Oh yeah, lots of new sights around here,” Calum states softly. The store is not as bad as he originally thought. There’s still a lot of people out and about but somehow they don’t seem to be all swarming the shopping floor. He can only imagine what the checkout line looks like, but that’s more of a worry for later--if he even finds the matching onesies.

The speakers overhead pump Christmas music through the store. Thought Calum wouldn’t call himself big on Christmas, he finds humming along, fingers brushing along the various fabrics as he weaves through the aisles and racks. Calum gets sidetrack on his way to the Christmas displays spying an intriguing button up--it’s black with a dotted pattern. Up close he can see there’s little snowflakes instead of actual circles.

He shouldn’t get it, but he finds his size and figures he’ll hold onto it and debate whether or not he’s going to give into the impulse buy. Returning back to his assigned course, Calum debates if he’s going to go for the reindeer onesies or if he’s going to go for the ones decorated in various trees. “Your mum’s going to kill me if I show up with reindeer onesies, but you’d be cute. Maybe death ain’t so bad.”

It takes a few minutes to consider all the options though, checking out what’s available in all the sizes they’d need. Calum catches the tiny whine Jae starts up with and soothing bounces him. “Okay, bud, I got it. I’ll be quick.”

Calum hopes death comes swift as grabs the reindeer onesies. Calum rushes over to the baby section. He knows without a doubt there are Christmas onesies hanging out. And sure enough, with only a two minutes search, Calum is able to grab Jae a matching outfit too and turns for the registers. On his trek, Calum does put back the button up--he doesn’t need it at the time being.

The line is long. Jae’s settled for the time being, but Calum knows it might not take much to set him off. The cashier’s seem to be working fast so Calum risks it. He steps into line with a deep exhale. The first couple of minutes is goes by without a problem. And he manages to inch up just a little. However, by the time they get halfway through the life, Jae’s earlier whines start back up.

Softy, Calum shushes him, running his free hand up and down Jae’s back. “It’s okay.” If this doesn’t work, Calum will just abandon the line and hope once Jae’s settle he can find the outfits again.

For a minute Jae seems to be settling and the line shuffles up again. However, they seemingly get stuck under/near a speaker hidden in a ceiling tile because the beef between Heat Miser and Snow Miser gets louder and that in turns sets off Jae. A cry spills from his throat. Not ideal, but Calum looks to see how many people are behind him--there’s only a few in front. But the sound of Jae’s cries tells Calum not to push it.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Calum whispers to Jae, turning and shimmying past the people in line. He mutters a few apologies and though, he would normally find the rack to place the clothes back on, Calum doesn’t want to take too long in case this is a diaper change cry.

“I know loud noises aren’t a favorite of yours, buddy. We’ll get somewhere quieter, promise.”

Free from the line, Calum shuffles to the bathroom. “Alright, let’s see what’s causing these tears.” It’s partially a diaper change. Though in a clean diaper, Jae doesn’t settle completely. “Hungry?”

It doesn’t hold interest. Calum tries a few other things before just resigning to the fact that it might’ve been sensory overload on Jae’s part. Calum drags Jae’s blanket over his shoulder and nestles him into it. Holding him close to his chest, Calum slips the backpack back onto his shoulder. “Okay, we can go chill out in the car. Try another store--hopefully less crowded.”

The cries haven’t completely stopped but they have faded. Calum doesn’t even glance over to where he stuck the onesies. They’re not important right now, an always be attained at some other point. Right on the mat that leads out of the store, Calum catches some voice shouting, “Sir!”

He doesn’t stop, assuming it’s someone trying to reach someone else. however, another, “Sir!” fills the air and Calum slows, turning his head. He doesn’t spot anyone at first, well not anyone that he recognizes are seems to be trying to get his attention but on a second pass over the faces, an older woman at the register holds up a bag.

“Me?” Calum questions, readjusting Jae quickly and tucking him more into his chest and neck.

The woman waves him over, before quickly turning back to the cashier. Calum steps a step forward, still unsure of what’s happening. He doesn’t know her. He thinks she might’ve been in the line either in front or behind him, but he doesn’t really know at all.

“Is-is everything okay?” Calum tries to see what’s in the bag and then mentally runs through his mind of what he could’ve dropped in line. All the bags from the craft store are in the truck. His phone and wallet are in his pockets, along with his keys.

“I should be asking the little one that,” she grins. Calum studies her face. He’d figure forties at the latest, two younger kids at her side. He wishes he did know her, then this would make this last strange. “Double check that these are all that you needed. Two adult onesies and then one for the baby, right?”

Calum’s heart nearly drops to his ass. “Wh-What?”

“Check that it’s all right,” she returns holding out one bag. The two kids hold bags of their own. “I don’t know if you were getting anything else, all I saw you put back were the onesies.”

“I-I can’t.” Jae wriggles in his arms and Calum sighs for a moment before bouncing him gently. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Well, now, I don’t have to do anything, you’re right. But I wanted too. I’ve been down this road. And the fact that you put your son above all, besides, it’s Christmas.”

Calum doesn’t even think to correct her thoughts on Jae instead he peeks inside the bag to see three outfits and a receipt. “Ma’am, really, I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I-I can pay you back.” Calum fumbles for a second to reach his wallet but she stills him with pat on his arm and a smile.

“No need sweetheart. Take care of that handsome one and enjoy your holidays.” With that, she takes a hand of each of the kids with her and then continues on past.

Calum watches her, unsure if it’s real or not. Unsure if he’s really living this. Someone, possibly a manager, comes down to the register he’s standing in front of. “Everything okay, sir?”

“I-yeah. Maybe a Christmas miracle?” he exhales facing them.

It’s another woman with a smile. “She’s a regular here. Does stuff like this all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The second you got out of line, she was on it trying to get the stuff you put down.” Lined on the front of the registers are a line of gift cards. No good deed should go without something good in return.

He grabs one quickly. “Can I put 50 on this?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” The question clearly comes as a surprise. Calum knows by now in all his shock he’s not likely to find the woman in the parking lot. As the machine asks him to remove his card, Calum instructors them to use it for the next person in line.

“You sure?”

He nods. “Yes, I’m very sure. Thank you, for taking me.” He grabs the bag and hurries back through the door.

“You really bought reindeer onesies?” Cace sighs, peering into the bag.

Jae sits in a rocker nearby. The moment Calum got him into the car his nerves completely settled and he went back his is normal bubbly self. Calum gulps down a third of the glass of water. “I didn’t buy it. But yes, reindeers.”

“What do you mean you didn’t buy them?”

“The line was long and I got stuck under the speaker in the store. Jae had been getting a tiny fussy beforehand but the music was the tipping point. So I stepped out of line. Just as I got Jae mostly settled, I figured I’d take him out to the car let him completely reset basically before trying again to snag the clothes. A woman in line saw me leave with him and she paid for it. One of the managers or something said she does stuff like that all the time.”

“She what?”

“Yeah, she paid for it while I in the bathroom. I guess the line was moving faster than I thought but I didn’t want to just ignore Jae, so I just made the call to leave line.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Cace returns.

“Something like that. Did you rest well?”

“I didn’t wake up until you called and said you were on your way. So yes, much needed.” Leaning into the kitchen table, Cace uses her foot to add extra bounce for Jae. “I noticed there’s a second adult onesies in there.”

“Sue me. I wanted in on cheesy photos too.”

“Good thing phone cameras come with timers,” she grins. “Sticking around for arts and crafts too? I gotta feed Jae in another half an hour. Or am I still in Mum jail?”

“I’ll stick around. But you’re still in Mum jail, so that means I make Jae’s ornament--you sip on the non-alcoholic bubbly and gingerbread cookies you bought.”

“I do vote pictures first. Because there’s bound to be a mess.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” It can be that much of a mess, especially if Calum doesn’t bother with glitter.

“You say that now,” she laughs. “But if you think there won’t be a mess, be my guest. I’m going to sip on non-alcoholic bubbly, eat gingerbread cookies, and enjoy this show.”

Cace pops open the white grape sparkling juice and a fancy wine glass. Her second trip into the kitchen is for the tin of cookies--actually full of cookies--and settles at the kitchen table. She sits opposite of Calum’s ornament crafting setup. And it takes him until Cace has to feed and rather than fussing about with moving to another room, she drapes the privacy blanket over. The amusement is settled in deep on her face as she watches Calum try to sketch out his design.

“I will say, I’m glad you’re a musician,” she teases.

“Ya know what, not everyone can have a Dad who’s like a world renowned artist.”

“Tattoo artist, and trust me the drawing gene skipped me.”

Calum scoffs. “Then you’re talking a lot shit for a non-drawing-gene. But that does explain who you got into legal things.”

Her laughter is sharp. “Something like that. Though I think it might be more about me liking raining on some parades. Besides, who else can you call that will scare your team at just a name-drop?”

Calum points the pen cap in her direction with a nod. “I never suspected that you’d shake grown men to their core. But just the casual mention of you and you’d think they’d seen ghosts.”

Cace winks, readjusting the burping blanket. “I have that effect sometimes.”

“Can I burp him?”

“You’ve stolen my son!”

“Oh c’mon, I’m his Godfather.”

“You now Godfather Cal has a certain ring to it.” Cace turns down her mouth into a frown, dropping the octave in her voice, as she hoists Jae onto . “You come into my house on the day of my daughter’s wedding.”

Calum giggles at her impression but doesn’t push on the burping request. “I still prefer Uncle Cal. Easier to say.”

It’s as Calum can only watch the paint splatter onto the page does he immediately regret not taking Cace’s advice and taking photos first. Jae continues to hammer into the paint and thankfully, Cace doesn’t lose her head about messes. But Calum can only imagine what the green paint is going to look like against her yellow walls.

“Jae, c’mon, work with me,” Calum sighs, lifting his tiny hand and then presses onto the felt. “Your Mum’s going to murder the both of us. But very slowly.”

Cace gasps from the end of the table. “I can hear you you know! I wouldn’t kill either one of you. Just tell you I told you so, repeatedly. Until you’d wish I have of killed you.”

“Just be glad I decided against opening the glitter.”

“Why would you buy glitter, Calum?”

“I don’t know. I was in a craft store. I blacked out and when I came to, there was glitter in my basket.”Jae watches the exchange and slams a hand with paint onto the table. Calum’s sigh is audible and she watches him deflate in the chair. “It’ll come out I promise.”

“Or it doesn’t and I can forever mark that as the spot that Uncle Cal and Jae DIY’ed Christmas ornaments and when I’m old and nothing but skin and bones, I’ll pass the table onto him for his kids to make arts and crafts on and it becomes a legacy.”

Calum feels the wet hand on his chest through his t-shirt and cringes. Cace continues on. “Or what doesn’t come out is that stain on your shirt and you forever think twice about not listening to me. The pictures will be a story to remember. When my dad ask me why does Jae have a green nose and I tell him before pictures were taken he and Calum made ornaments and I advised ornaments second but Calum wanted to do that first and I scrubbed my son down as best as I could, but you know how green paint is.”

“You are not helping,” Calum whispers.

“Oh, no, I’m not. But you’re right. I needed Mum jail.” Her raised eyebrow and pointed sip from her glass tells Calum he’s going to be the one cleaning up and only him.

He doesn’t want her to be right. But even after ornaments are left to dry and he scrubs down Jae there is still a bit of residue, a hint of what color once took up residency on his skin that don’t completely fade reminds Calum to maybe listen to Cace since she’s the one dealing with a baby day in and day out. Though Calum would’ve liked to think he was a pretty good second. He’s there for a lot but there might be some things he hadn’t had to think through just yet on the whole baby front.

His t-shirt is ruined and the battle of baby vomit vs t-shirts should’ve warned Calum to not wear anything he holds too precious. But clothes are just clothes in the grand scheme of things. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Jae.”

Calum gets him into the onesie and settles him into the rocking seat to see what he can do about the wall. The table made it with very minimal damage and Calum’s sure with another passover the little that does remain will come out. Cace kneels on the floor, a bucket beside her and the sounds of scrub hits his hears. “Hey, Mum jail, remember,” Calum returns.

“Oh, I couldn’t let you suffer for that long without helping. I’ll probably have to repaint in some points, or I wait until he gets way older and just let whatever mess he creates exist and possibly turn it into some masterpiece.”

“You said the art gene skipped you.”

She laughs. “I did say possibly. As in an option.”

“I can help you repaint next week.”

“Wanna borrow one of my--what did you call it, an ultimate robe?”

“What are you on about?”

“Undershirt. I call them a white beater. You’ve got tons of them. You called it the ultimate robe in an interview once.”

“You said you didn’t watch those.”

“I don't normally. I saw a clip.”

“And you remembered from how long ago?”

Cace shrugs, dipping her rag into the water at her side. “Who knows at this point? You’re lucky I still remember my own name.”

The thing Calum’s learned about Cace is that’s it’s true. She can hardly ever remember things about herself, but she’s always got it together for those around her. And that’s why he pushed for her to take today--because she needed the time for herself. And even if it’s hard because of a baby he still wants to be the one there for her. He would always have her back. He’d buy cheesy matching onesies and hold bells behind the camera to get Jae to look up and he’d fake pose decorating an already decorated Christmas tree and he’d hoist Jae into his arms and tickle the little boy’s side and he’d take the most unflattering pictures of Cace only to make it up with the most flattering ones right after if it meant that at the end of it all, she knew he had her back.

Cace reclines into Calum’s side, Jae seated in her lap. The phone’s still counting down but she’s not worried about that. She looks up, watching Calum watching her. “I’m not the camera,” he teases.

“Nah, but you’re a close second.”

Calum kisses the top of her head, mostly aware of the shutter of the camera. “I’ll take that. Though I should be number one. Now actually face the camera once I set this up again.”

“No promises,” Cace laughs. Though she does look at the camera the second time. She can faintly see the slightly out of focus string lights on the trees. And inside the square it’s bound to be picturesque. There’s no walls with green paint or t-shirts ruined, or still open can of cookies that she absolutely thought she had covered and put back up. And maybe it’s okay if perfection only exist inside that square. And maybe it’s okay if her house is a mess and she’s a mess, and Calum’s a mess because at least she had the few people that cared around still.

********

Joy hadn’t anticipated seeing Calum’s handwriting on a letter just yet. His card usually came with him in person. But she doesn’t let the curiosity simmer too long and flips over the white envelope to pop the golden sticker holding it close. A beautiful white, gold and green card greets her, with Merry Christmas on it.

When she open the card, a couple photos slip down and she can see the black ink with Calum’s telling handwriting. She spies Cace and Jae standing in front of a tree, a decorating dangling in her hand. The second photo is Cace, Calum and Jae seated on the floor, smiling with the twinkling lights fading in the background. There’s a third of Calum and Jae too. All three of them matching with reminders antlers poking out from the hood of their pj’s.

The typography of the inside of the card is the same as the outside, Season Greetings. But just above it is a note, from Cace, Jae, and Calum. And then just below the standard greeting of the card is more from Calum.

Hi Mum,

I know this card normally comes with me attached but I didn’t want to forget to send these pictures.

I made Cace take a day and partially it was successful. Another part was disastrous. Disaster struck with paint and ornaments but I know you said you wanted more pictures of Jae too. These felt appropriate. He’s getting bigger, like everytime I blink he’s in a new size. I don’t know how Cace does it. How she just watches him everyday and doesn’t worry that time is moving too fast. Maybe she does worry and does her best just to focus on the day at hand. I don’t know how you did it with Mali and me. I’m sure it was the same thing--everyday just us shooting up with almost no end in sight. You’ll be happy to know Cace and Jae are doing well too. She started work again and takes him most days. Some days she drops him off at a daycare. He seems to handle it well for now. Soon, she says she’ll be dropping him off more than half the week at the daycare. So we’ll know for sure how Jae feels about that when that happens.

Send me some Oz summer. I wasn’t sure I was ready to jump into onesies just yet and even after this pictures, I still don’t think I am. Love you and miss you.

Calum.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood blurb #calum hood fluff #h writes #h writes christmas 2020 #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer blurb #calum hood x oc #OC included

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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“Chasing Jessi”: A Sirius Black Story: Plus Size OC: Chapter 7: Tinkerbell & The Lost Boy

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Sirius Black Imagine Turned Story

Re-Written and Edit of an old story of mine I had on Mibba that deserved some more love and attention, lol.

Sirius Black x Jess Scamander (OC, OFC, PLUS SIZE OC, PLUS SIZE OFC)

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Sirius Black was lounging comfortably in his bunk. He hadn't even bothered to change out of the KISS shirt and black flannel pajama bottoms at this point. He was reading through a book that he'd borrowed from Jess. Contrary to popular belief... Sirius actually loved to read.

He’d rather die than admit that but he’d learned from an early age that it could easily provide an escape from his horrible daily life.

Again though, he’d rather die than admit and let someone see him doing it.

He was up rather early on a Sunday morning- something that used to be obscenely out of character before he played Quidditch. Now, it seemed that his biological clock was against him. However, it proved rather useful when wanting the shower to yourself or getting to breakfast while everyone was still in bed. He'd been to breakfast already and was currently just relaxing for he had been informed by a tired looking Lily Evans that Jess was not coming down for breakfast this morning. He had been slightly disappointed but guessed that it was because the two girls had been up late talking. He figured that girls did that just as much as boys did. Although, for Jess's sake he hoped not because James had nearly driven him mad last night by both talking about every detail of his and Lily's date and all but demanding the same from Sirius. Honestly, boys were just as bad as girls when it came to gossip.

If not worse. However, he supposed he could just try and read this ridiculous book of hers until she awoke. He had really just settled in and was beginning to immerse himself into this fantasy world when.... "Sirius!!!" His brows furrowed and he glanced over at Remus who was studying on the floor in front of his bunk but he only shrugged.

"Sirius! Ooof! Sorry! Sirius!" "What in the name of Merlin?" he pondered as he sat the book down and went to the door to see none other than his hyperactive girlfriend balancing a package on her hip and apologizing to a fourth year boy who went white as a ghost at the sight of her. "You're ...you're not supposed to be up here." the boy said. "Oh, I'm sorry." she said to him. "I'm just looking for Sirius. See, I have something I have to-" The boy was too shaken to speak. To be fair, she was still wearing her pajamas and he was a fourteen year old boy, most likely with a crush on her. And she was only wearing a big floppy yellow smiley face shirt and some rather short multi colored shorts. "Over here, love." Sirius smirk. She turned to face him with a relieved smile looking so odd with her floral cat ear headband and her big blue monster house shoes. "Thanks, anyway." she told the boy and gave him a one armed hug. Sirius almost snorted when the boy looked as if he may pass out. The poor boy probably didn't know whether he found her attractive, terrifying or strange....or all three. "What are you doing up here?" he asked her as she came to a stop in front of him, "And in your pajamas no less?" "I have something for you." she said simply but he smirked and she smacked him in the stomach, "Not that!" "Aw, and it's almost my birthday too." he moaned playfully and he opened the door and let her him. "Hello, Remus." she greeted the studious green eyed boy. "Oh, uh, hi Jess." he said a little surprised to see her there, especially in her pjs. "Remus, she beats me." Sirius wailed dramatically. "She wounds me." "If it's to your pride..." he said. "I suggest she do it some more. Your head is far too big as it is." Jess grinned in victory. Sirius gasped, "Moony, old boy, I can't believe it! Everyone's mistreating me and it's almost my birthday!" "Sirius, if you don't come sit down, then I'm going to open your present." she informed him smartly. "Present?" he asked. "What present?" "This one." she said tapping the lid of the green box. "You got me a present?" he asked curiously taking a seat on the bunk as the box lay between them. "No." she said. "Well, yes. I did. But this isn't it. This is from my mum and dad." "What?" he asked in disbelief. "From mum and dad." she repeated. "She sent a blasted howler as well. Damn near threatened my life if I opened it. So I'm guessing it's rather good and most likely involving food. Best open it sooner than later." Sirius' hands shook just a little as he pulled the box open and cringed as a howler floated out. It was that same familiar shape that he recognized as the ones Jess usually got. From previous experiences, he was expecting yelling but relaxed when he saw the letter transform and the dark wax sealed lips give him a smile. It began to speak in a soothing tone, "Hello, Dear. Happy Birthday! I do hope you have a good one this year and that you get this package in time. Jess mentioned that you had a particular liking for toffee and fudge so I do hope you like what's inside. She also mentioned that you loved music and so there is something extra special inside from my husband. He said that he wanted it to go someone who could appreciate her as he much as he did. I wasn't allowed to see so I'm trusting that it's appropriate and if it's it not, you'd best tell me so I can tan his hide! Everything is under the shrinking charm so all you need to do is use the Engorgio charm. If you have trouble with it, I would advise you to ask Lily rather than Jess. She means well but she tends to get terribly excited and...blow things up. We are so excited to see Jess making such lovely friends! She speaks very highly of you and bless your soul, you must be patient to deal with her antics! I do hope she isn't being too rough. Some of those pictures... Merlin, I feared she'd nearly kill you with that one on the broom. I've told her about that! Nevertheless, any friend of hers is a friend to us. Welcome to the family, sweet boy. Have a wonderful birthday, dear! May you have many more! P.S. Do not let my child con you out of your presents with her innocent face. I know that she 'seems' sweet but if you give in...you'll regret it. Trust me. Her father has been wrapped around her finger since she was six seconds old. " When the letter was finished it ripped itself up and turned to ash. Sirius was a little disappointed. It had been so nice...he had kind of wanted to keep it. He glanced up to find Remus looking at him curiously and Jess looking mildly offended. "She makes me sound like some kind of animal." she scoffed. "Well..." Remus smirked. "I'd say more reptilian. You do have a certain, what was it you called it Padfoot? Dragon lady...quality about you." "Remus Lupin!" she scolded him. "You are a booger head and I am not talking to you anymore!" "I have chocolate." he said lifting his brows at her and holding up a piece. "All is forgiven." she said racing over to join him. "So what did she get you?" she piped up from her spot with Remus on the floor. Sirius reached into the box to pull out a container and he smiled. "Toffee." he smiled. "Oooh!" she gushed and jumped on his bed. "That's mum homemade toffee! It's really good! She won a blue ribbons for it at the local Muggle fair!" He pulled another out and observed the white chunks with rainbow sprinkles. "Birthday cake fudge." he smiled as he read the label aloud. "It's really good." Jess nodded. "It tastes like white chocolate and cake batter. Mum makes it for Dad every year on his birthday. I bet she had to make two batches!" He pulled out a jar of something and for just a moment it made him think of firewhiskey but he smiled when he read the label. 'Sirius, dear, this is a new recipe I'm trying out. It's called Toffee Syrup. We like to put it in porridge, tea, pumpkin juice, coffee...come to think of it, anything really. I've added just a bit something special to this one. I'd love to hear what you think.' "Mum'll kill me for telling you this but it's really good you mix it with firewhiskey and put it over ice cream." Jess piped up and he lifted his brows at her. "And here I thought you were sweet and innocent." he commented. She laughed, "Sirius, we both know I'm far from either of those." He pulled out a black knitted hat. "Oh, Mum, doesn't want you to catch cold!" she wailed dramatically. "Don't cry on it." he teased. "But she stitched it with love, Sirius!" she wailed again. He resisted the urge to shove her off the bed when something caught his eye. A small black case and upon further inspection he realized that it was a guitar case. 'Engorgio.' he murmured and enlarged it before pulling the zipper open to reveal a beautiful black acoustic guitar. "Ophelia!" Jess squeaked. "What?" Sirius asked her. "It's Ophelia." she said. "It's Dad's guitar. He let me name her when I was a little girl." Sirius frowned, "Oh, maybe you should have it then." "Nah." she shook her head. "I'm rubbish at guitar. I'm a drums kind of girl...much to mum's dismay." She grinned wickedly and pretended to play the drums.

She never failed to make him laugh. He pulled it out and ran his hand over it before glancing into the case and seeing the matching strap and an envelope. He opened the envelope to reveal a small note and a silver chain with a matching guitar pick on the end. "Hello, Sirius. I hope you have a very Happy Birthday. Jess tells me that you love music along with many other things. She seems quite fond of you and speaks of you quite a lot. Which is considerably out of character for her. You have to understand that for the longest time when she wrote home...it was usually to tell us that Lily's eyebrows had grown back or that she'd was very close to finding redcap colony. Naturally, as her father, I was a little defensive about you at first. However, you seem like an alright lad and she seems to take a liking to you. Any man that will willingly let her braid rainbow colored yarn into their hair....well you're alright with me, kid. I hope you have a great birthday and you enjoy old Ophelia. P.S. If you press the guitar pick, you can record yourself. Comes in handy when you're working on songs. ' Sirius carefully sealed the letter back up and placed everything delicately back in the box. "Sirius?" Jess whispered. "You have really, really good parents." he said quietly. Remus quietly left the room, deciding it was best to give the two of them some time. "I know." she said softly. Sirius just nodded, still just slightly shaking until she placed her hand on his. "Maybe you can meet them sometime. You know, to properly welcome you to the family and all." she said. There was more to that statement than either of them were willing to talk about at that moment. Grey eyes caught green and they just stared for a moment. She decided to break the tension with some comedy. "Mum may be swayed by your charms but I will not being giving you your present from me until it's your actual birthday." she said. "You got me a present?" he questioned. "Yes, and I'm not telling so don't even try!" she scolded as she stuck her finger in his face. He smirked at her challenge as he carefully placed the box underneath his bed and grabbed her ankle. "Not even if I do...." he trailed off as he hovered above her neck. "This." She bit her lip when his lips caressed her skin. "No!" she cried out. "Don't use your tricks!" "How about here?" he asked kissing her nose. "Never." she whispered. "Alright." he said. "But I think I'll try one more." "I'll never surrender, Captain Hook!" she called out, grinning wickedly as she saw her book on his bed side table. "Now, now Tinkerbell. Let's not be rash." he teased. "Now give me some of that pixie dust." She erupted into a fit of giggles, "Sirius Black, Lord of the Cheeseballs!" He tickled her relentlessly, "Surrender!" "Never!" she said rolling out from underneath him and racing into the halls, "Lost Boys, unite! We have to defend ourselves against the terrible Captain Hook!" The muggleborns got it, thought it was weird, but go it. Everyone...just kind of wrote it off as Jess being Jess. And James Potter stood at the foot of stairs looking at his friend with an odd expression on his face. "What?" Sirius asked. James shook his head. "Nothing. It's just...you two are clearly into some weird things." he said. Sirius laughed and shoved his friend along into his room. The thing was...he didn't mind her little games. He loved them almost as much as he did her.

Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

Hello, loves! How do we feel about Sirius’ early bday present from Jess’ parents? How are we liking their relationship so far?

I’d love to what you think! Please feel free to hit up the ask box, blast the comment section or reblog with your thoughts and feelings! Next chappie coming soon!

All my love darlings!

Kenny

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Love, Kenny

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black imagine #sirius black story #sirius black x ps #sirius black x plus size #plus size #ps #ps ofc #ps oc #plus size oc #plus size ofc #sirius black x oc #sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders era sirius black #young sirius black

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unicyclehippo · 4 years

Note

First impressions after the live show? Beaujester impressions or otherwise

‘Ah. Would you mind looking after Luc for a little while?’ Yeza asks with a somewhat nervous - but excited - smile.

Beau salutes him from the bathroom. ‘No worries, dude. Go get her.’

Yeza laughs, fumbles to return the gesture. ‘Thank you. Thank you, everyone. Ah - if you’ll just...excuse me,’ he says and in amongst the Nein’s gentle teasing, the halfling bobs an awkward bow and leaves, hurries back to his wife.

As Jester disappears into Marion’s chambers, her quiet apology for the bathtub reaching the bathroom, Beau does her best to sweep up the clay and the soot left by the burned incense, the pieces of the bathtub. These she separates, drops into a box Beau suspects once held a gift of some kind or is, like, some unnecessarily fancy bin. The largest of the pieces she just sets beside it. Maybe... if she figured out where all the pieces were supposed to go, Jester could mend it? Beau grimaces down at the hundreds of ceramic shards. Maybe not.

‘Beau?’

‘Huh? Oh, hey! I was just -’ She waves a hand toward the mess. Her other hand is cupped, middling sized shards held in it that she’d found under the shelves. ‘D’you reckon you could mend this thing? Or...?’

Jester grimaces too, looking at the extent of the problem before her. She steps into the bathroom beside Beau, shoulders jumping in surprise as something crunches underfoot. She smiles guiltily.

‘It would take a really long time.’

‘Right, right, right,’

‘But I promised my mama I would buy her a new one. Or find someone for her who will buy her a new one.’

‘Maybe you could ask the Gentleman.’

‘Beau.’

‘What? Is that - that’s stupid, got it,’

‘No!’ Jester grabs her arm, shakes it, not caring a bit that the shards Beau collected drop to the ground and break even more. ‘Beau!’ she squeals. ‘That’s a great idea!’

‘Oh no.’

‘Yeah!’

‘No, no, see I was just kidding - ‘

Jester squeals louder. ‘Oh my gosh it will be so romantic, I can send him a message and he can pick out the most beautiful bathtub and I can write -’ She goes a little breathless for a second, tail flicking right at the tip with excitement, eyes darting over Beau’s face. It’s clear that Jester isn’t looking at her, but rather past her to all the many plans she can concoct. ‘I can write a letter,’ she says quietly. ‘I have his handwriting now, I can say, Oh Marion, in your time of greatest need I am - um - fulfilling that need,’

‘We can workshop it. Or not. Because that’s - it’s an idea,’ she says, dropping the adjective she would ordinarily tack onto that. ‘But it’s maybe, you know, a tiny bit, uh,’

‘Too soon?’

‘I was gonna say hurtful,’ Beau tells her bluntly.

Jester’s face falls. ‘What do you mean? You mean - getting them together?’

‘N-no, not exactly. But, y’know, if the guy you liked walked out on you and then you had a kid and you raised her alone for years and he never came back and eventually you figured, y’know, he was either a piece of shit or something bad happened to him or maybe both or maybe he didn’t care or maybe he did and maybe he wasn’t ever in love with you or maybe he was and you flat out don’t know, and then you find out that he’s this crime lord up in Zadash and your bathtub breaks and that is what he writes to you about?’

Jester blinks, her surprise bleeding into faintly troubled, and thoughtful, and a soft distant kind of expression Beau doesn’t fully recognise. ‘Probably not the best.’

‘Prob’ly not.’

‘Hmm. I’ll think on it.’

‘Sure, yeah, you do that. I’ll - edit your letter, if you want. Help you workshop it.’

‘Even though you think it’s a terrible idea?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Beau is quick to point out, mind racing backwards in their conversation to make sure that yeah, she definitely hadn’t said it. She had thought it, but that’s not the same thing. Jester is smiling at her when she comes back to the here and now, the mischievous smile that tucks into her cheeks, makes her dimples pop and her eyes glint. Beau rolls her eyes, shakes her head. Grumbles, without any real annoyance to the word, ‘Tricky.’

‘Well, I am a trickery gods protégé.’

Beau cleans for a little longer, waves Jester away to help Caleb with getting the magic he wants and starting on their clothes. With Caleb and Fjord gone to Yussa’s tower, and Caduceus following closely after when he sees Fjord step out, and with Yasha looking for a dog for their dinner (a joke? Uncertain), Beau realises that she is the only one left, and that they had all completely glossed over one very important fact.

‘Shit! Luc!’

She sprints down the steps from the third floor and when she hears the familiar sound of a shriek of dismay, follows it to Carlos and Luc and a smashed bottle on the floor.

‘Luc!’

‘That,’ the boy says, backing up, brown eyes wide, ‘was an accident.’

‘You need to be more careful, lad!’ Carlos cries, and scrubs his hands over his head, disturbing the slicked combover. ‘Enough with the sword! And the crossbow! Please!’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Luc insists, and Beau closes the distance quickly. Luc is in zero danger from Carlos, who seems more interested in making sure that the wine doesn’t soak into the nearby carpet - and that Luc doesn’t step onto any glass - but seeing the tall man towering over the young boy, and the raised voices, has her moving faster and her heart pounding in her chest.

‘Everything alright here?’ she demands, staring at Carlos. Without her meaning to, without looking, she sets a gentle hand down on the top of Luc’s curly hair, guides him backwards and behind her.

‘What? Oh - Jester’s friend. Yes, yes, it’s fine,’ Carlos sighs, and he lets out his breath in a gusting sigh. Runs his hands over the combover again. His brown eyes take in Beau before him, interposed between him and Luc, and his stance softens. ‘The lad is fine,’ he assures Beau. ‘Just rambunctious.’

‘That’s a good thing,’ Luc whispers up to Beau. He holds the back of her pants with one hand, peers out around her thigh to grin up at Carlos. ‘My dad says it means I’ve got lots of beans, but I haven’t had beans and toast since we left Felderwin.’

‘Do you like beans and toast?’ Beau asks.

Luc shrugs. ‘It’s fine? The fish here is weird but it’s fine too.’

‘Not a picky eater, huh?’

‘No, there’s heaps of stuff I won’t eat. I hate sprouts - ‘

‘Same.’

‘ - and there’s this red root that stains everything but my dad uses it for inks and dyes and stuff so we used to have it all the time,’

Beau lets him ramble on about food and shifts her attention to Carlos. The man has settled like a spooked chicken and he nods to Beau, hands lifted slightly. She relaxes a smidge. Fishes a few gold pieces from her pocket and sets them on the bar top. Then, as Luc continues to ramble, she leads the boy to the stairs.

‘ - and there’s this gross, like, pea thing and pea is already a funny word,’ he tells Beau, who snorts obligingly, nods, ‘but it tastes like sand. That’s probably my least favourite, it’s gross.’

‘Yeah, that sounds like shit.’

Luc giggles, eyes wide. ‘You said a bad word.’

‘What? Oh fu- uh - right. You’re a kid. Shi - ah crap. Balls. Oh no.’ Beau stops, rubs a hand over her face. Luc is fully laughing now, little hand clutching at the railing post he had dented earlier with his sword, and when Beau peeks through her fingers she finds that his smile is wide and honest and delighted.

‘You’re really funny. And rude.’

‘I’m - the rude part is right,’ she agrees. ‘Uh. Look, your mum and dad are gonna be - uh - talking for a bit so we told them we’d keep an eye on you. Is there anything you’re, like, wanting to do or do I...have to entertain you?’

Luc rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t need to be baby sat. I’m five.’

‘Oh, cool, basically an adult. You should probably be getting a job soon.’

‘What? No!’

‘No?’

‘No! I’m not old enough to get a job.’

‘But you’re five.’

‘That’s too young!’

‘Is it?’ Beau asks, feigning ignorance. ‘Shit, okay, what do you wanna do then?’

‘I dunno!’

‘Figure it out, or I’m gonna - uh - feed you sprouts.’

Luc gasps. ‘You wouldn’t.’

Beau grins, a little feral, mostly amused. She crouches on the landing in front of him so they’re almost of a height, her still a little taller than the young halfling. ‘Your mum hasn’t told you about me,’ she guesses. Luc shakes his head. ‘My name is Beau, and I’m a monk. I trained for years,’ she tells him, ‘to become a spy.’

‘Whoa.’

‘Yeah. Pretty cool, right?’

‘Yeah!’

‘One of my lessons was on how to torture people.’ It is only as she says it that she wonders if maybe a joke like that is a bit dark for a five year old, but Luc’s eyes only seem to widen further, sparkle a little more. It’s super weird - but weirdly nice - to be on the receiving end of what Beau can only categorise as extreme fascination. ‘I won’t stop with sprouts. I brought with me food from Xhorhas. They have vegetables,’ she tells him, voice dropping low and ominous, ‘that are soft and squelchy. Like boogers.’

‘No.’

‘Yep. Super gross. But good for you. And I’ll tell your dad that and he’ll make you eat them for every. Single. Meal.’

Luc shrieks and sprints away from her up the stairs, laughing as Beau pushes to her feet and follows. She lets him get fairly far ahead before her own competitive nature comes out and she picks up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time. It isn’t long before she catches up with him and it’s easy to hoist him off his feet and up into the air, hold him by the ankles as she marches him back down and out into the courtyard behind the Chateau. She had seen it when they arrived, the manicured yard, and the small training dummy raised there with a painted target and many, many dents from wooden crossbow bolts. Luc wriggles free when she lowers him down and races ahead, yelling back to her all the while about training, and look how high I can climb, and what is the coolest monster you’ve seen, and what’s it like being a monk?

It’s weirdly easy. Hanging out with the little dude, and answering all his questions - leaving the fallout for answering all of them honestly to Yeza and Veth to deal with in the future at some point - and catching the bolts when they whizz too close to her face, which sends him into another spiral of questions, and begging her to show off some of the cool monk shit that she can do. They’re in the middle of practicing wall-jumps - or, she is and he is jumping as high as he can in place with his stumpy little legs - when the others return and he slumps, exhaustedly, into her shoulder when she picks him up this time. Loops his arms around her neck in a loose hug.

Beau feels something twist in her chest as she hugs him back, carries him to his room, and she wonders if TJ will be anything like Luc. Outgoing, carefree, happy. Or if he’ll be more like her.

#prompt fill #cr tag #tagging my stories #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #sort of

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boogiewrites · 4 years

Text

Rosie & the Road Less Traveled

Characters: Declan Harp x Rosie Anderson (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp 1970s Hippy/Roadtrip AU Rosie has made a bold decision and decided to leave her monotonous life. She sets out to create her own with a group of misfits traveling across America, post-Vietnam during the 1970s. She breaks out of her shy and insecure, sheltered shelf to have an adventure where she learns the realities of life outside her former cookie-cutter existence. She experiences, a year of sex, drugs, and rock and roll as the group of ex-soldiers and free spirits change her worldview and show her another way. She meets the charming but damaged Declan who takes her under his wing. Will a budding romance for this blossoming Rose prove to be her gift from the universe for making the hard decision to be her own woman?

Warnings/Tags: Talk of emotional abuse by family.

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Rosie awoke in the same pink and frill filled bedroom she had every day of her life so far. She could smell the same coffee she wasn’t allowed to have. The scent filled up their Better Homes and Gardens modeled modest family home settled in a suburb full of pastel houses with the same pastel cars in their driveway. It was polished and performative, just like Rosie’s mother who was standing in her doorway looking like a copy of June Cleaver.

“You’ll be late for John to pick you up! Don’t keep a man waiting! A wife must be preemptive and pretty dear.” She exits as quickly as she’d entered. Rosie is left looking to her favorite childhood toy and only friend, Booger Bear, with a sigh before starting her day. Not much had changed in Rose Anderson’s life since she was a child. She was raised by older parents, very strict and traditional. Which would explain why they’d agreed to her engagement so fervently. She was 24 and unmarried and being a spinster was not an option according to them. So she was having yet another huge life decision made for her by someone else. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held her own opinion or made up her own mind. She had fear instilled within her from a young age that she was less than and this was used to keep her under control. Being different as she was with her ghostly white skin and pale blonde hair, her albinism stood out among her peers. She wore glasses and a constantly apologetic look on her face. Her childlike treatment was clear on her face as her features were baby round. A button nose and large light blue eyes with cheeks that always had a flush to them showed her softness unwillingly. She truly did look like a baby animal, naive, and easy prey.

This was a common theme among the treatment she’d had from men so far in her life. She didn’t expect any different. Her mother had cried tears of relief when George had asked for her hand. She would finally be able to tell her bridge club that her daughter had at least something normal going on about her. The cruel and belittling words she’d heard her whole life only made sense to continue hearing from this new person that would now be in charge of her she was told. If nothing had changed in her life up to this point, why would it ever?

The fact that George never showed didn’t surprise her. So when she went into town to run wedding errands on her own she wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. He usually disappears at night and not in the morning so that was unusual but she went through her day with the same polite smile she always did. A smile that said sorry for existing. She called her home from the library, offering to see if her mother needed anything for supper. She hadn’t but she had heard from George’s mother, and she hadn’t seen him either. So it was now Rosie’s job to find him, as they’d be married soon.

She sat defeated on a bench to rest as the sun started to set. She’d asked at the stores on the square and no one had seen him. Luckily for her, she’d sat down in front of the Beauty Parlour and it being a small town, everyone knows everyone, one of the ladies there knew who sweet little odd Rosie was and took pity on her.

“I know it’s not my place to say so baby but that man of yours is no count. You know that right?”

“I’m sorry ma'am?”

“You were in town all day today alone, doin' your dress and all that right? For the wedding?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And he’s been across county lines getting drunk as a skunk.” She shakes her head. “Again.”

“Oh.” Rosie sighs and looks to the ground. “Do you know where he is?” She asks reluctantly.

“No where no sweet thing like you needs to be goin'.”

“I need to get him home. His mother’s worried.”

“She should be. Ain't your mama worried about you out here alone?”

“She said I have to do real women’s work and take care of George as best I can. He’s mine now and I better start acting like it and go… find him.”

The kind woman sighs and feels bad for the poor thing. But it wasn’t an uncommon story. “He’s out at the bar past the county line. Neon sign, bikes out front, can’t miss it. It’s on the right.” She says with a groan.

“Up 25E?” She asks already getting to her feet.

“Yes, baby now be careful. I’m only telling you this because someone’s gotta help you out, honey. Maybe it’s time you helped yourself huh?”

“I’m doing what any good wife and daughter would do ma'am.”

“Life’s not about being good for other people. You have to think about what’s good for you. What do you want? Do you want to marry George?”

“Ma'am what a silly question.”

“That’s not the enthusiastic YES I should be hearing from a bride to be is it?”

Rosie doesn’t know how to reply and just looks worried for a moment with her wide eyes.

“Go before it gets darker baby. Be careful. Take care of yourself.” She says as Rosie scurries across the square to the car.

She did love getting to drive around. Something she’d not been allowed to do until recently. So a trip out of town on a lovely evening was something that got her very excited.

She had held onto that moment of happiness as she drove out of town. A perfect evening with a chill after the sun went down. She could hear frogs and crickets as she left the roads full of cookie-cutter homes and drove into a more forested area.

She had a comfortable smile on her face until the trees cleared for a patch and showed a roadhouse. This had to be the place. She pulled in with a mix match of very nice and very beat down cars. Some buses and small caravans lined along the perimeter. She could hear music coming from inside the metal and wood walls. There were men three times her size all around. They were an odd mix of trendy sleazy men with feathered hair and grizzly biker men and they were all chain-smoking. Everyone looked as confused as she did as she entered the building. If she was polite and direct there was no reason these gentlemen had to give her any trouble. She’d heard about these sorts from her mother. Bikers, greasers, all sinners, and a dirty lot to associate with.

But Rosie had always seen glimpses of people in the magazines. The intense men on their bikes with a scantily clad woman who looked both elated and aroused clutched to his back as they rode through the great American Route 66. They looked like they were having fun, she thought. She thought they looked free and those were things she longed to know how they felt. But there was no room for these things in her life. So although she should be afraid to be around these people, she was actually quite excited. She fantasized with already blushed shy cheeks about striking up a conversation with one of them and finding out what they were really like.

“You lost sweetheart?” The man in glasses with his arms crossed at the door asks her.

“I’m here to fetch my husband- my fiancé.” She corrects herself.

“You with a man that comes to a place like this?”

“His name is George. He is a fan of a strong drink and a cigar. And apparently, his frequenting of this place is something everyone in the town knew about but me.” she admits freely as she wasn’t one to have any reason to hide bits of herself. Everyone could be a friend in her eyes. She entered every interaction with a genuine curiosity it was honestly a bit hard to be rude to her.

“Ah.” He nods and understands. “Go on in, sweetheart” he holds open the door for her and watches her stand and take it all in for a moment. He chuckles and then sighs, “Poor little thing.” he mutters.

Through an old western saloon style inner door she enters with a delighted smile. “How charming!” She says to herself. She walked into a rather large room full of gambling tables. A bar on one end and a stage on the other. Panning over to meet the stage last, she’s hit with a thump of bass in her chest by way of her feet. It rumbled into the floor as she tentatively approached. She’d never seen live music before. She supposed choir and church and talent shows didn’t really count. There were electric guitars and men with no shirts and girls without bras and she was enthralled. She had heard a few rock songs by way of sneaking into a poor reception radio station when she was left alone in the car. She loved it. But it was something only classless people were apart of. Or so she was told. But these people looked the same as those in the magazines. A very tall and dark man played the instrument causing her to experience a very pleasant vibration through her body. He was shirtless and sweating and had a large tattoo on his arm. A chain from his worn dark jeans that bounced with every pluck of his long fingers. Next to him a smaller man, pale and singing with delightfully large blonde curly hair. He sang beautifully she thought. He wore a shirt unbuttoned and tucked into pants so tight she could see a bulge that ripped her from her fantasy of being as cool and free as they were. She turns around quickly and moves towards the bar.

She finds George in his work clothes, the navy not being blotched by black oils and spills told her he also hadn’t been to work. She wears her disappointment in her face clearly for a moment before trying to put on that mask her mother taught her to wear. Never show him that you’re upset. Anger is unseemly on a lady. But this did make her angry. Her red face made it obvious she was holding in red hot emotion. Her smile was hollow and her eyes gave her away.

“Hello, George. I believe it’s time we got home.” She says with a hand to his shoulder.

“How’d you find me here?” He asks with a dramatic turn on his bar stool, and he was in true skunk form.

“A person in town suggested it. Your mother is worried about you. Can we please go home?”

“You can. I’m staying here.”

“Please George I have to get you home. Both our parents expect me to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“What if I don’t want you to take care of me? Huh? What if I don’t want anything to do with you?”

Her throat felt tight. She was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way since she was bullied when she was young. The eyes she could feel on her from a growing audience he was causing made her feel all tingly and nervous. He looked at her with disgust and the shame she usually felt was quickly turning into anger in this new over-stimulating environment.

“Do you think I want to be here?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think I wanted to run all the errands myself today for my own wedding? And make excuses for your absence all day and have people look at me with pity. Because they knew you were here. Again from the looks of you.”

“Well, I’m only here because of YOU.” He spits back.

“Me?” She squeaks with growing confidence that makes her take a deep breath and steady herself. “I have been nothing but an ideal fiancé from the beginning of this. YOU asked for this. Not me.”

“I didn’t ask for it! You did!”

They both looked at each other confused. “I was told you asked for my hand.”

“Hell no my parents told me I had to say yes to your parents offer or they’d cut me off and send me to the army.”

They both blink at each other for a moment. “This is…” she takes a shaker breath. “I’m in an arranged marriage.” She whispers and feels a betrayal deep in her chest. She’d been lied to. Her parents lied, her fiancé lied, the whole town and only one person has the decency to tell her where George was. It hurt like a knife might she thought as her hands held fast to her stomach.

“Are you like...retarded too? Ugh geez. Of course, it is! Why would I want to be with a freak like you?”

It’s as if he’d culminated every fear she’d ever had into a single sentence. All her thoughts of not fitting in, of something being wrong with her. She’d been right all along. “Well, I don’t want to be with a mean drunk like you!” She says back with a face that showed her first real emotion in years.

“I am not a drunk.”

“Yes you are! The whole town gossips about it behind your back. Your parents threaten to send you off if you don’t start acting like an adult. You try to take advantage of ME when I’ve never been anything but nice to you! You are MEAN and you are a DRUNK!”

He moves fast and grabs hold of her arms tightly. Enough to make her cry out and wince. “You listen here you little freak of nature. If you’re gonna be with me you’re gonna respect me as a good wife would.”

“Is there a problem here?” The same tall man from the stage asks, towering over George.

“Buzz off bud. This is between me and my girl.”

“It’s not when you talk to her like that, loud enough for whole damn bar to hear and then put your hands on her.

“Why don’t you go and fuck your cousin, you dirty ass hippies.”

The man meets eyes with Rosie and he immediately knew he had to help her. She looked defeated, but a shine of hope that someone, anyone would ever help her out. He knew one of their kind when he saw that look. Just like the group of outcasts he’d gathered over the years since returning home.

“You’re a…” he glances to Rosie who beams innocence in such a way a man like him is forced to protect it. “Jerk.” He decides instead of saying words that might make the victim feel embarrassed.

“He’s an… asshole.” She spits out and feels a wave of rush over her as she curses.

George flinches to hit her and that was enough for the tall stranger. “Alright, you’re killing the vibe, man.” He wraps his neck in a headlock and drags him out of the bar with a shocked Rosie froze for a moment.

“‘Ello there, love.” The singer from before came in. With gentle hands to her shoulders. “You alright? Hurt?”

“N-no.” She stutters.

“Ya sure you’ve gone all rosy in the face.” He fans her with his hand.

“I always am.” She excuses quickly. “Sorry..I-“

“No apologies, let’s get you into the fresh air eh? Don’t worry I’m with the big guy what dragged off that unpleasant twat you were dealing with.”

“Okay.” She says breathily and a little dazed. “Thank you.”

——-

“Well, he’s gone.” The tall one says proudly, clapping his hands.

Rosie stands and looks at the spot where her car had sat. Now empty. “Did he take that yellow car?” She points to the space.

“Yeah, he headed right for it, had the keys.”

She nods and sighs. “I’m afraid that was my car he took.” She looks down the ground to figure out her next move from here, now stranded.

“Oh shit. Oh no, I’m sorry.” The tall man says putting his hands to his mouth. “Ah. Well fuck, honey I really screwed you there didn’t I “

She blinks with her large pale blue eyes at him with tears withheld. A cherub round face that struck a deep nerve as she tried to hide her upset. “You didn’t mean it. You were trying to help.” She says with a slow nod and inhales.

“Bad luck innit.” The other rubs her back comfortingly and she didn’t mind it. He seemed like such a nice man. They both were.

“Can you get a ride home? Call your parents or… something? Or did he just... steal your car?” He towers over her but she doesn’t feel afraid. He rubs his head in thought as he bit his lip.

“I’ll have to call my mother. He’ll go home to his mother I presume.” She nods. “I can retrieve my car tomorrow. Unless he crashes it.” She sighs. “He was terribly drunk.” Her shoulders sink in disappointment.

“Look, we’ll get ya home...what’s your name love?”

“Rose.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name innit? For a beautiful girl.” He holds no ill will as he says it and the compliment hits her hard in her emotionally unstable state. Tears well up for someone, a man, a nice man to be so kind to her to say such a nice thing. “Oh no, don’t cry. We'll get you a cab home. It’s no trouble love. Don’t worry ya pretty little head about it eh?”

“You’re so nice.” The tears fall fat over her flushed cheeks.

“Now there’s a good girl.” He brings her in for a hug. “Go call her a car, mate.” He nods away the other fellow.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’ve had such a bad day.”

“Now let’s sit down here and you can tell Danny all about it now little Rosie.” He shoos some men off a nearby bench to sit her down.

“That your name?” She sniffles

“It is. I’m Danny and that big man was Declan. You’ll be safe with us. Don’t worry. We are protectors of the oppressed.” He chuckles as he puts an arm on her shoulder as she hides her face from the eyes watching.

“Oppressed?”

“Yeah. You know, women… people that are... various beautiful shades of brown, black yellow..." he spoke dramatically with an outstretched hand that captivated her " … homosexuals. You know how it goes, the bad ones yeah? The rebels, the outcasts, lost children who come across our path.”

“You’re making us sound like a cult man. Don’t scare her.” Declan laughs and stands guard at her other side. “Taxi’ll be here within the hour.” He gives her a warm smile that crinkles around his eyes. Half of it coverd in a beard that was pointed and a bit fuzzy. His hair was like a dark lions mane around his face and shoulders.

Rosie contemplated as she looked up at him and wondered if she’d ever seen a man so tall before.

“He only looks scary,” Danny assures her. “Declan this is Rosie.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He gives a gentle nod down at her.

“Almost exactly what I told her.” Danny beams.

“Hey Rosie, I’m Declan. Nice to meet you.” He spoke softly and gently as if she might startle if he spoke too loudly at her. “We’re in a band. We travel around. Play music and just...living life y’know. Being free with the life we’ve got.” He spoke proudly as he explained. “We’ve heard a lot of stories. So you aren’t going to tell us anything we’ll judge you for.” He laughs.

“We’ve all done far worse than whatever spot you’ve got yourself in angel.” Danny joins in the laugh.

“I’m sorry to cry I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She wipes her cheeks. “As I was telling Danny I’ve had a very bad day.”

“Tells us about it then love. Let the evil out.” He motions with his hands as if he were vomiting and it makes her have a soft little giggle. “There she is.” He pushes her chin up gently. “Go on then…”

Her blubbering story hurt them both as she told of isolation and now betrayal and forced marriage to a terrible man. They’d seen it and heard it before, many in their group had a similar past.

“You deserve so much better Rosie love,” Danny says with a broadly shaking head. “You are clearly such a bright and lovely girl with a pure heart and you deserve the same given back to you.”

“I do!” She whines.

“You can change it all. You’ve got the power. They tell us we don’t. That we can’t. But it’s because they’re afraid of us. Afraid that if we knew what power we had as a collective, as they’ve made us all feel so isolated you see? You can have whatever sort of life you want Rosie. You just have to take it.” Dany speaks intently to her with unwavering eye contact.

“Take it?” she sniffles.

“Make the hard choices. You want things to stay like this forever or you want to take a chance and be your own person?” Declan asks with high brows. He had the tougher approach and Danny handled the whimsy of things, it suited their personalities.

“Like...refuse to marry him?”

“Not just that. You can refuse to stay with your parents.”

Rosie laughs as if he’s joking.

“I’m serious. You could go and live anywhere you wanted. Did you even know that?”

“No. I thought….”

“You can make your own choices Rosie,” Declan says as he sees the cab arrive. “You could see the world. Meet anyone. Do anything. ”

“That… sounds too good to be true.” she looks down at the ground as they walk her towards the car.

“It’s what we did,” Declan turns to face her. “We didn’t like our lives so we just...changed them. I wanted music and freedom and to be around people who understood me.”

“We eventually found each other. And our little family has grown ever since.” Danny holds his home like an adoring mum seeing away their daughter on the bus.

“Family?”

“We’re just a bunch of misfits that are trying to find our place in this crazy world.” Danny shrugs. “Some of us play music and some just follow us in the summertime to escape their lives. Some just like life on the road. We’ve got all sorts. Certainly had a few girls with stories like yours.”

“Really?” she rubs her cheeks.

“We aren’t saying you have to join us. We’re just saying you can make your own choices... have whatever sort of life you want. That’s all. You seemed like you could use the help.”

“I could.” she lets out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. “Thank you. Both. You were very helpful. I can’t really repay you.”

“Start making YOURSELF happy Rosie. That’ll be payment enough. You deserve it, pet.” Danny waves her goodbye.

“Don’t let the man get you down little Rosie.” Declan Nods her way as she gets in the cab to head home.

—————

The cab drive home was the most peace she was going to know for the next 24 hours. It started with the cops being at her house when she got there. George had been arrested after being taken to the hospital for injuries from wrecking her car. He was being held and charged and poor Rosie thought she might pass out.

George’s mother paced and shouted in their house late into the night. Wailing about her “poor” son. What did she do to him to make him behave in such a way? Denial was not just a river she'd read about in the encyclopedias she'd gotten for Christmas.

Her own mother joined in, what did she do? How was she going to fix this? Why didn’t she have the money to bail him out? She raised her better than this.

Rosie sat and took it. But each biting remark only made that funny feeling in her stomach grow as each verbally slapped her over and over.

“Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” She finally says back quietly.

“For god's sake girl don’t mumble and slouch! It’s ugly!”

She had been told she was pretty tonight and told she could be and do whatever she wanted. Things she’d never heard before. There were people out there that wouldn’t treat her like this. This isn’t what she wanted. She wouldn’t survive a life like this, it would hollow her out into a shell of who she really was.

“I said, Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” Her brow was now creased and a rare sight it was. “Did you ever consider your son is a drunk? A hateful loser who has been breastfed too long by his mother?!” She sass’s with balled fists in the meanest and most insulting thing she’d ever said came out of her mouth confidently. “And you! I don’t have any money because you won’t let me work! You won’t let me leave! Or even LIVE!” She throws her arms up in the air. “You’re being bullies when I’m the ONLY one that tried to DO something and HELP him. And this is what I get? No. No more. I don’t have to put up with this...this… BOLOGNA!” She yells and stomps to her room, slamming the door and leaving a room of shocked faces behind. Her father in the kitchen almost choked on the beer he was trying to secretly down to deal with the situation. It was beer and not even liquor what was he becoming?

Rosie falls to her bed and cries and hits the pillows as her door is quickly bombarded with screeches on the other side. Demands of her to come out and apologize and she just kept shouting “NO!” Over and over to their requests. She took all of her suitcases and laid them on the bed, the voices on the other side growing tired and falling quieter and they tried to listen to what she was doing. She threw her life into those cases. All her favorite things, things she might need, she stuffed them full and sat on them to get them to shut. She angrily pens a letter. Telling them she was tired of being oppressed and lied to and she was going to make herself happy and never see them again. She still signed it with a heart.

She gets out of her bedroom window and makes her way to the car with the dented fender and busted windows the cops had returned to them. She throws in her bags and whispers a prayer it will start. Someone was looking out for her. She could see the sources of the yelling running out of the house behind her as she headed out of the subdivision. She’d never felt more alive.

She practically drifted into the gravel parking lot at the roadhouse and held tears of joy from her escape and the fact that the buses and vans were still in sight. The bus was headed out of the parking lot. She leaves the car with the keys in the ignition and straps her bags and suitcases up and runs as fast as her feet will carry her toward the van left in the line.

“WAIT!” She shouts and pants. “PLEASE WAIT!!” She lets out a scream she didn’t know she had in her. Her lungs burned and her blood pumped faster than it ever had as the van door rolled open. “I’m coming with you!”

“Is that?” Declan snorts out an amused sound

“Well fuck me it’s that little girl again.” Danny muses as he looks out the door. “Slow down mate, we got a castaway.”

“Being. Chased. Keep going.”

“Chased?” Danny laughs. “By who?” The thought of someone being in pursuit of this tiny white field mouse amused him to no end.

“I RAN AWAY!” she laughs as she throws her bags to the filled van and is ran full force as the van gets to the highway and she’s yanked inside. The door slams shut behind her and she’s left wheezing and trying to fix her dress and hair.

“Come now little bird, have a seat.” Danny pulls her down on the bean bag he’s sat on.

“I. Ran.” She pants out and Danny and Declan laugh but the other eyes in the van are looking at her confused.

“From the cops?” Someone asks concerned

“No.” She clears her throat and takes a deep breath as she calms down. “From my house.”

“Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Danny pushes back her hair.

“Worse.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I can... I can come with you guys right?” She says with puppy eyes.

“Welcome to our merry little crew Rosie bug.” Danny beams.

“I ran away too.” Another girl with long beautiful wavy hair says from her spot in the open-backed van, now crowded full. “Husband? Parents?”

“Both.” Rosie nods and they share a sympathetic nod of understanding.

“I’m glad you came Rosie.” the girl's eyes showed strong empathy and it made Rosie certain she'd made the right decision.

“I am too.” She finally catches her breath. “So…” she primps for a moment to gather herself. “Where are we off to first?”

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s

#Declan Harp #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fic #frontier au #frontier #jason momoa frontier #jason momoa #declan harp au #declan harp x ofc

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gayenerd · 3 years

Text

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie

by Tom Lanham

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not).

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids.

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true.

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake.

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!"

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers.

* * *

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not?

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time.

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves.

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job.

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living.

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead.

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right?

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly.

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs.

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so...

TC: Sickening!

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too?

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10?

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music.

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls.

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]?

MD: At work, doing their own thing.

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her.

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school.

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable.

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs.

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky.

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food.

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen.

Why name your disc Dookie?

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer."

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine.

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"?

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland!

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night.

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie?

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you.

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label.

Is Green Day angry?

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry.

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible.

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently?

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie?

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building!

* * *

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract.

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set.

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude.

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura.

* * *

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless.

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed.

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids?

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want.

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways?

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything.

=Was this something you went through personally?

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything.

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show.

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week!

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move?

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

=I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you...

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

=OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction...

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?"

=And you let just anybody touch it?

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced.

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut.

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89.

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones.

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it.

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too?

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time.

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"?

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!"

=As they say, you can never go home again.

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?"

=And if that teacher could see you now!

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself.

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own?

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give.

* * *

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

#article #interview #articles #billie joe armstrong

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marmolady · 4 years

Text

Growing Pains: Part Three

PART ONE PART TWO

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. For Liv and her mothers, Taylor and Estela, a turbulent period of transition is afoot. Set primarily in the distant future of 2033.

Word Count: 5678

More Liv fics here: Livita, Teething Problems, Milestones and Memories, Mutual Comfort, All That Matters

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn, @mrsmontoya, @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @quinnkellys-wife, @greengroove

La Huerta, 2033

The sun slowly began to set, and a cool breeze came in from the sea. The reunion was in full swing, and Taylor, had found her way poolside, the traditional centre of all activity. The energy all around her was wonderfully refreshing after all the time she’d spent hiding herself away from the world; the sounds of the most familiar of voices as her friends caught up with one another, therapeutic. She was far too much of an extrovert to isolate herself; she knew that now.

Sitting down at the bar, it only took a few skilled flourishes of bottles before Raj was handing her a signature drink.

“It’s been a little while since I’ve had one of these,” she laughed. The joys of pregnancy. Worth it, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t a little relieved it was all over in time for the reunion. “Mm, that’s fruity! And just the right amount of kick to it. I say this every year, but you really do know me.”

“Another happy customer at the BhandarBar? You know there’s nothing I’d rather hear!” Raj beamed. He came around the bar and sat beside Taylor, sensing a need in her. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages-- last time I saw you, you had a baby on board. How has life been treating you, Taylor, my friend?”

“Oh, you know. My whole body gearing up for looking after baby, and then trying to tell it ‘no, that’s not what’s happening, here’; that’s been a bit of a challenge. My mood swings have been epic. I know she already did deserve one, but christ, Estela deserves a medal. Liv as well. I swear I’ve been like a walking hormone or something.”

“Well, if you need someone to lay it all on….”

He didn’t even get to finish. Taylor had her arms around him, hugging him tight. Where the tears were coming from now, she didn’t quite know. Maybe it was just a release of everything she’d been carrying these past months. But come they did, thick and fast.

“That’s it, bro. Let it all out. I’ve got plenty of shirts if you get boogers on this one--”

Taylor spluttered, laughing until she made herself choke and cough. “I don’t even know why I’m crying! That’s just me right now. A little bit useless.” Well, if you talk like that, you’re gonna be sobbing all night.

“You? Never. We have witnesses! You are definitely not useless. You just need a bit of Taylor Time right now. You’re allowed to take some Taylor Time.”

“For how long?” Taylor sighed. “Liv’s only nine-- sorry, nine and three-hundred-and-sixty-four days. That distinction is important to her. But she needs me. My body’s all geared up to be a mom, but with Liv I feel like I just can’t do anything. Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed.”

“Trust me. I’ve had those days. You know I’ve had those days. And listening when your mind and body need a rest isn’t a bad thing. If Liv was feeling the way you were, what would you have her do?”

Taylor pouted. “Who told you you could use my double standards to pep talk me? Fine! I’d tell her to be kind to herself. Every time.”

“So. What are you going to do?”

“Be… kind to myself,” Taylor said begrudgingly. Damn you, Raj. I can’t argue with that logic.

“We’re going to home-school Livi. For a year, use that time to reassess where we want to be in life. I’m a little nervous, but… I like that I’m going to be more proactive in her life. I’m glad I had Michael; having him was one of the best things I’ve ever done, but I want to be able to put my energy into Liv, and Estela, our little unit. Mostly, I’m excited. I am so, so ready to feel like a mom again.”

“Aw, Taylor-baby, you always were. But I getcha, sometimes you kind of lose a part of yourself in all that life throws up. And whatever life wants to throw at Liv, you guys got her back. She’s done all right for herself with you two.”

Exhaling, wiping away those stupid tears-- hadn’t she cried enough?-- Taylor nestled into a warm hug. Raj was a talented man, but no more so than in his ability to make everything feel all right. Together, her family had weathered many storms, and their bond would carry them through any still to come.

_____________________________

La Huerta, 2027

A resounding crack of lightning had Liv dive under the blankets, shaking in her Batman pyjamas. To her, it felt as though the storm had been raging for hours. Never had she heard the sky sound so angry. She burrowed under her Mama Estela’s arm.

“Mommy, it’s so loud,” she whimpered.

“I know, mija,” Estela said gently, stroking her four-year-old daughter’s hair. “But it can’t hurt us in here. Our house is strong and safe.”

The creaking of wood in the wind made Liv nervous. If the house was safe, why did it have to complain so much? Was it trying to scare her?

“It’s okay, Livi-sweetie,” Taylor soothed. “We’re all gonna sit this one out together.”

The family trio were sharing the big queen-size bed, Liv tucked up snuggly between her two mothers. There had been no talk of attempting to settle Liv in her own room; she was distressed, and that meant she could take security in the maternal bed.

As the howling wind became a frightening roar, Liv whined softly. At the foot of the bed, the little dog, Fenix, was sleeping soundly. Fenix didn’t have the best of hearing, which on this occasion struck Liv as quite lucky. The cat, Madam Mierdita, seemed more grumpy at the disturbance than frightened, growling and changing colours with every scary rumble.

“Hey, Liv,” Taylor said cheerily, hoping her easy tone would lessen the tension, “Knock, knock!”

Liv peered over the covers. Was now really the time? She’d humour her silly Mama Taylor. “Who’s there?”

“Europe.”

“Europe, who?” Liv asked, then her eyes went wide and she gave a shout of laughter. “Ha! You’re a poo, Mama Taylor!”

“No, you’re a poo!” Taylor chuckled. Saved, once again, by some good old fashioned toilet humour.

Estela rolled her eyes and shook her head exaggeratedly. “Oh, cariňa, you blow me away with your comedic wit.”

“Yeah!” Liv affirmed enthusiastically, apparently still oblivious to the art of sarcasm. “It was super funny!” She flinched at another crash of lightning, but didn’t hide under the covers.

“Well, my fan club, here comes another one!” Taylor smirked at Estela’s dramatic groaning. If it eased Liv’s fear, they could and would do this for hours. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?”

“I dunno, Mommy. W-why?” Liv asked, her voice wavering as a rumble of thunder seemed to shake the very earth. But if the world was ending, it would surely wait to hear the rest of Mama Taylor’s joke first.

“To get to the bottom!”

On queue, Liv squealed with laughter. “You said ‘bottom’!”

“You know, Taylor, I’m sensing a theme here.”

“Hey-- toilet jokes aren’t my favourite, but they’re a solid number two!”

“Dios mío! Why do I feel like I’m in for a long night?” Estela reached to tickle Taylor’s belly, which served to push Liv ever deeper into her giggle fit. She could never adequately express just how grateful she was that their daughter had that gorgeous dork to see her through the scary times. Don’t you ever change, mi amor.

The storm raged on. Cocooned together in their humble sanctuary, the small family saw it out-- or at least, Taylor and Estela did. Liv nodded off amid the thunder and the lightning, the wind and the rain… safe in her mothers’ arms.

_______________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Livi-- be careful!”

“I am careful!” Liv hollered down from a towering palm tree. She had everything under contro--

There was a thud, and the squeak of breath being forced from Liv’s lungs as she hit the ground hard.

“Ow.”

Taylor rushed over, but her view was quickly blocked by young Isla, who had gotten there first.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt, Isla. See?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“Can you move all your arms and legs?”

“Yes!”

“On a scale of one to ten--”

Taylor cut in, feeling simultaneously relieved and incredibly fond of her friends’ little nurse in training. “Thanks, Isla, sweetheart. I think we’re good from here. Right?”

Liv scowled and jumped to her feet as if nothing had happened. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Oh, Livita, foiled again by your old friend, gravity?” Estela laughed from her comfortable spot on the beach. She’d seen Liv through enough bumps and scrapes to know when there was nothing to worry about.

Taylor snorted, and ruffled Liv’s short hair. “Gravity’s a bitch. Try and respect her in the future, okay?”

Gravity wasn’t just a bitch. Gravity was Liv’s nemesis. A literal pain in her ass. Someday, Liv had decided, she was going to get a pilot licence like her Uncle Jake. That would teach bloody gravity.

A yell distracted Liv from her plotting.

“Hey, Livia! Livia!” Reggie hollered as he pelted up the beach. “The big tortoise came back! Diego said we can feed him! Quick!”

That got her attention. The past two years, the mighty Shore Guardian had lumbered into their midst during the reunion, and it had been an incredible thrill. In an instant, she was off and running.

“Liv, when I say to be careful…,” Taylor started.

“I know!” she called over her shoulder, “ Actually be careful. But you know I’m not scared of some old Shore Guardian, right?”

The tortoise was colossal. Built like a tank; the peak of his pyramid-like shell reached the height of a man. It had come as an immense relief to everyone when the creature started appearing on La Huerta’s shores, that he was of a docile and placid disposition.

“Helloooo there, Shelly!” Liv called, clambering up and over the rocks, a bunch of glowing flowers in her hand. “I brought you a snack.”

“See,” Diego said from his perch, overlooking the beast, “I told you he’d come back. He’s pretty smart. He must know that the reunion happens every year, and that the reunion means kids bearing flowers. I think you’ve started something, though-- the Vaanti kids are all over this guy when he hangs near Elyys’tel.”

“He’s less scary than the yeti-bear. I like the yeti-bear, but Mom and Mom say I’m still too young to give her a pat. Do you think I should make friends with the Sea Guardian next?”

The Sea Guardian was rarely observed. It was something like a plesiosaur with scales all the colours of the rainbow, and even after more than a decade since Cetus’ demise, it seemed as though the monster was only gettng larger. Sighting the beast was something of a badge of honour for young Vaanti, with the bolder among them daring to touch its back-- some even managing to take loose scales when the beast was shedding. There had only been a few serious injuries over the years, but the practice was largely frowned upon-- especially by those old enough to remember Cetus’ wrath. If there was one thing everyone agreed upon, it was that they did not want another Cetus.

Diego chuckled nervously. “Better stick to old Shelly. He appreciates your friendship.”

“Yeah, Livia, you should look after the friendships you’ve got,” Reggie said, huffing and puffing as he came over the ledge. “It’s not like you’ve got many.”

“Hey!”

“Was I insensitive again?” he asked sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“A little,” Diego said. “Why don’t you come closer and feed Shelly with Liv?”

Reggie eyed the hulking beast. “No… no, I’m fine just watching. A good scientist never interferes with wildlife. You know Jane Goodall used to feed chimps bananas? But that was like… years and years ago. Now we know that is not the best way to science.”

“Whatever, Reggie,” Liv laughed, “but don’t cry to me when I’m Shelly’s best friend.”

Down on the sand, Liv could feel the enormous presence of the giant tortoise as he towered over her, sniffing.

“Good boy, Shelly. You wanna flower?”

Diego watched her, ready to swoop down and pull her to safety if the beast appeared bothered. “Good job, Livi. Nice and slow so you don’t freak him out. Like… like you’re Hiccup and he’s Toothless.”

Liv chuckled, and peered into Shelly’s mouth as it gaped open to take a flower. “I think he is toothless.”

“Yeah, but I bet his hard mouth could break all the bones in your hand!” Reggie piped up.

“Shelly would never,” Diego assured. “He knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.”

The tortoise gave a rumbling grumble of pleasure as he swallowed a flower.

“How have you guys been recently?” Diego probed, keeping it light, but knowing that life had recently been a rough ride for the kids. “I heard Maia moved schools; that kind of sucks. She was pretty great.”

She was pretty pretty, Liv thought, though she kept that to herself. “I’ve been really sad and lonely. But it’s all better now-- we’re all back here! No mean dumbasses. I wish Maia didn’t have to leave though.”

“I decided I don’t like getting in fights,” Reggie said. “I am now officially a pacifist. But… I guess I’ve gotta make exceptions if people are gonna say stuff about my sisters. They’re only little. They can’t stand up for themselves.”

“Better stick to fighting with your words, Reggie,” Liv said with a little smirk. “I have never seen such a weak-ass punch in my life….”

“Hey, I did pretty good!”

“If I hadn’t jumped in, they’d still be mopping you off the floor now,” she laughed.

“Well, maybe I’m better at more important things, like actually using my brain! You should try it sometime.”

“Okay, okay,” Diego intervened. “Easy, kids! You don’t want to freak old Toothless out.”

Liv looked up at Shelly. He was calmly chewing on the last flower she’d offered him, not batting an eyelid at the raised voices.

“Tio Diego,” she murmured. “Can I tell you something? And Reggie-- you can know too.”

“Of course, you can, Liv.”

“Well… it’s kinda… embarrassing. But I know you won’t laugh. Not when it’s important. I like liked Maia. I thought everyone would laugh at me if they found out I had a crush on a girl. I know it’s not something to be ashamed of, but I was still… too scared.”

“You’re telling us now-- that takes a lot of guts,” Diego told her. “It is scary. You never know how people are going to react. Most people are pretty cool these days, but it only takes one mean person to make you feel sad and small.”

Liv climbed back up onto the rocks to sit by her uncle’s side. “Yeah. Some of the kids already teased me about my moms. I thought there would probably be at least one mean person.”

“That’s fair,” Reggie concluded. “I mean, you’re probably right. If they were jerks about Erin, probably they wouldn’t be any nicer to you. They already think you’re kinda weird.”

Diego put an arm around his niece, and she leaned close. After all these years, he could always tell when she needed a hug. “Coming out and showing yourself to the world should always be on your terms. If you didn’t feel ready, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It means a lot that you feel comfortable enough to share with me.”

“Of course! You’re my tio. I can tell you anything. Even the things that are just silly and annoying… you listen anyway.” Liv sighed, and threw down her last flower to the great, lumbering tortoise, who scarfed it down eagerly. “I’m sad that Maia is gone. I thought eventually I’d be brave enough. I can be brave with stuff like protecting people who need help, but feelings are harder.”

“Feelings can be the absolute hardest. But we’re on your side, whenever you’re ready to share them. Me and Varyyn, and Reggie, and your moms. Your moms are so proud of you, you know? Being sensitive and caring can be tough, but those feelings are what make you strong. Your Mama Taylor told me you’ve been helping her get up every day when she’s been feeling really down. You make a difference-- a good one. You don’t have to be brave enough for everything all at once.”

“Thanks, Tio. You’re smart. No wonder you wrote like, two whole books. All teachers should be as nice as you.”

“Well, I do my best. And in the end, that’s all you really can do. Do you remember from Cinderella? ‘Have courage, and be kind.’ I’d say you’re both pretty good at that already.”

______________________________

La Huerta, 2031

Seven-year-old Liv reached out her hands to a stricken bird as it flailed in distress. The sound of it being slammed against the window of the house by a larger, more aggressive foe had made her all but jump out of her skin, but if something might be hurt, she had to get over her fright quickly and help.

“Hello birdie…,”she cooed. Her fingers gently stroked the feathers on its back. It stopped flapping, but its breathing was laboured, as if it was struggling for air. Blood had risen from its eyes and nose. “It’s okay… I’m a friend.”

Gently, Liv scooped the wounded animal into her hands and cradled it, crouching over the grass in front of her home.

“Tio Diego! Varyyn! I need help!”

Of course, her uncles came running. They were never far away when tasked with keeping an eye on her; by now they were too well aware of her propensity for wandering into mischief not to be.

“Livita, are you okay--”

“Tio, she’s hurt. I think she’s gonna die. This great big bird got her and hit her against the window.”

Diego was pretty sure Liv had heard the talk about not touching wild animals, especially if they were injured and likely to lash out, but the reminder could wait. One look at the bird told him it was not long for this world.

“She is dying,” Varyyn confirmed, sadly. He exchanged a look with Diego. “It’s very sad… but we must make sure she doesn’t suffer.”

Liv sniffed. It wasn’t fair. This little bird used to hang around their home, foraging in the garden Mama Taylor had grown. They liked hearing her singing and calling to the other birds.

Varyyn squeezed Liv’s shoulder. “We’ll give her a minute to see if she fades away on her own. Do you trust us to do what’s kind for your friend?”

“Yeah… but I don’t want to leave her. I think she’s less scared with me holding her.”

Diego put an arm around Liv. “That’s good. You’re making her feel safe. Everyone deserves that. Just keep talking to her, okay? Hopefully, she’ll go peacefully.”

“It’s okay, birdie,” Liv whispered. “You’re not alone now. You can go to sleep.”

The bird gave a few more rattling breaths, then was still.

“Tio Diego… I think she’s died.”

“Yes, she’s gone, mija. You did amazing.”

Liv wept, held by her uncles.

“Death is always hard,” Varyyn said gently, “even when it’s kind. You always feel the hole where there was once a life.”

“S-she shouldn’t have died! She wasn’t hurting anyone… o-or doing anything wrong… she was just in that other bird’s way.”

“I know. It sad, and it’s not fair at all. But you made her last moments so much better; that counts for a lot. Everyone dies sometime… all you can hope for is that you go feeling loved, and you made that happen. It’s like… the circle of life. Nature can be really cruel, but that doesn’t take away the good bits. This little bird probably helped lots of plants spread their seeds.”

“Yes. Even if your friend’s life was short; it had great value.”

Liv raised her head, eyes wide. “Her body becomes the grass, right? Like Mufasa said? She’s got to at least get to be part of the circle of life if she can’t live anymore.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s pretty much how it works. If we leave her body somewhere nice where it won’t be bothered, she can feed the earth.”

“Okay. I wanna do that, then.”

A sombre procession carried the little broken body to the edge of the meadow. Liv laid the bird beneath a bush and draped her body with a fallen leaf. Then, she sat and looked over the resting place of her friend, tears filling her eyes. Varyyn was right; already there was a big empty hole. An echoey feeling right in her heart. Liv would miss hearing the bird’s chirruping as she played around the garden with her Mama Taylor. Hopefully, she’d remember that, not just this sad, sad feeling… of knowing she couldn’t protect an innocent, of seeing a life fade to nothing. Mama Estela told her that was important. That nothing should ever take away what was beautiful about something or someone once they’re gone.

She got to her feet, brushed off the dirt from her hands, then slipped one into Diego’s.

Bye, bye.

__________________________

La Huerta, 2033

“Penny for yours?”

Estela sat down beneath an old familiar banana tree, settling beside Taylor, who appeared to be a million miles away.

“Oh… I was off in my own world, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, it looks that way. But you looked happy.”

“I am. Just being here has been a breath of fresh air. I feel like I’m me again, and it’s been a long time coming.”

Estela gave a contented hum and rested her head on her wife’s shoulder. “I’ve missed happy Taylor.”

“Well, thanks for sticking by and waiting out for her. Happy Taylor appreciates it.” Taylor chuckled at the sound of Estela’s quiet laughter. It was infectious. Hell, just Estela’s smile was like the embodiment of sunshine, it made coming out the other side of her dark cloud all the more glorious. “I think we’ve got our Livi back. Or I think we’re on the right track.”

“I know we are. It’s been a slow decline… I don’t think I even realised how miserable she’d gotten until I saw her snap back to how she should be.” Estela shrank in on herself. What excuse did she have? She had one job; to keep that kid happy. She didn’t have a war to contend with, or the struggle to get by between pay-checks, and she still couldn’t manage it. “I should have done better. I’ve been trying… I’ve been trying so hard… but somehow I couldn’t make everything better for her. Or you.”

“Don’t you even think about it! No.” Taylor pressed a fierce kiss to Estela’s temple. “We hit a few bumps in the road, that’s all. I wasn’t counting on an intense case of the baby blues… or what might actually have been full-on post-partum depression. The timing was unfortunate; really, it sucked. But you carried us through. When Liv got suspended and I couldn’t fucking stop crying because I just couldn’t handle it, you did handle it. You’re pretty great. Ask Raj; he gave me a magic pep talk earlier, I’m sure I could rope him into a repeat performance.”

“Thank you. You’re good at putting things in perspective, I’ll give you that. I know I set my bar too high. Just because Liv has her struggles, doesn’t mean I’ve failed… it means she’s a human being. And that’s probably what we were aiming for….”

Taylor giggled. “Godammit, my otherworldly influence has been foiled!”

“Actually, while we’ve got a chance to talk… I was speaking with Aleister earlier.”

“Yeah, I thought I saw you two hanging out.”

“Well, it seems like we’ve inspired him and Grace. Reggie’s not going back to that school next year either. It sounds like Livi’s gonna have a homeschooling buddy here on La Huerta!”

“Oh, wow! Ohmygod, that’s perfect! It’ll be just like old times; almost half the gang back home again. And… and the girls? Are they waiting a year, or are they going to teach them as well?”

“You’ll have to ask them, but it sounds like they’re going to get started with Erin and Immy. It’s going to be so good for Liv.”

“Yeah. Really that’s… that’s wonderful. God, I’m so happy right now!”

Estela found herself laughing. Her dork was back. She took Taylor’s hand. “And then, moving forward, Aleister says they’re considering a permanent move to San Trobida-- obviously under the assumption that we’ll be heading in that direction ourselves.”

“Oh my… holy crap!” Taylor flung her arms around Estela and hugged her tight. Something in her knew right away… yes, that’s right. That’s where we’re all meant to be. That gut feeling overshadowed any qualms or fears. “Tio Nicolas is really not gonna know what’s hit him, hey?”

“No; and I think it will be a dream come true.” Nestled in Taylor’s embrace, the scent of her mingling with the La Huerta sea air… it was, to Estela, the very essence of happiness. The excited yells of children at play had her look up over her lover’s arms; there was her Livita, piggybacking little Erin through the shallows while the terror, Immy, sent up wild splashes of water at their faces. It was time to try something new. For them.

“Aw, ‘Stel, just look at them!” Taylor snuggled in, a giddy grin on her face. She needed a change, and she had a feeling that for her, for Estela, for Liv… it would be a step towards their best lives. The year to come, and even beyond that, was to be a thrill ride of the most exhilarating kind, and they’d take it on hand in hand. She exhaled her fears and sadness, and let the wind carry them away. “I really love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Taylor. Forever.”

_____________________

Midnight over the Celestial. Or rather, two minutes to midnight. The countdown to Liv’s tenth birthday was on, and the kids-- save for the two little ones who’d long been in bed-- were just about hanging onto the non-grumpy side of overtired.

Ten years. How could that even be? Taylor could see the years in her face and Estela’s, but it still could have been yesterday that they were interrupting the festivities with the announcement that… ‘uh, I think baby might be coming’. What had followed was a period of some of the most intense hours either of them had lived through, a culmination of two lives’ dreams and emotions. And at the end of it, Taylor had found herself holding in her hands the second love of her life. Her sunshine. As children do, Liv grew. She’d tested her mothers, putting pressure on their weak points and making them stronger. She’d brought them closer, something Taylor wouldn’t have believed possible… but sharing their daughter’s journey was like watching a miracle unfold; to be touched and changed was inevitable.

Michelle joined Taylor, a knowing look on face as they watched Liv’s impatient jiggling.

“Crazy night ten years ago… my one and only midwife job.”

Taylor chuckled. “Crazy, crazy night. The best night of my life. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop thanking you for getting us through.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome. Ten years on, it’s stuck with me. It’s amazing to see the young woman she’s growing into. I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of my small part in putting her in the world.”

That change was coming so fast. The transition from that rosy-faced bundle of cuddles into a bright, opinionated adolescent was going to be underway in no time at all. Even now, looking at that giggling ten-year-old, it was hard to imagine.

I’m going to embrace every moment. Every one. You, me, your Mama Estela, we’re on this adventure together. And I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.

Estela put her arms around Taylor from behind, smiling into her wife’s shoulder.

“Is it my birthday yet?” Liv asked, bounding over to them.

“One minute, mija.” She tugged Liv into the hug and covered her forehead in kisses. “Come here!”

The cake was unveiled, and the small girls, Isla, Erin and Immy, erupted into ‘ooh’s, while Liv did a dance in her mothers’ arms. Her family around her sang, all together, celebrating her milestone, and she knew belonging. She looked up to her mothers and grinned, face aglow with candlelight.

The future was bright.

#endless summer #estela x taylor #playchoices

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newproletarians · 3 years

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new proletarians

Alright, so I’m feeling a few things. I’m angry and confused at the world and my place in it, and I don’t want to lose sight of my heart. The reason that’s even on the table is that I feel—in a very real, day-to-day sense—the urge to just let it callous over with grey boogers, or whatever callouses over the hearts of Squidwards everywhere. Regular old life can do that to a devastating degree, but so can the usual suspects—things like real trauma and tragedy. I’d like to say I’ve experienced a little of both at this point in my young life, but I’m still fighting the calcification of my heart. Let’s hope that in just throwing my brain at the proverbial wall, some things stick that are worth sticking. Maybe my clarity can also be yours, reader. Maybe we can snuggle up with ourselves tonight, content that we know what the fuck is going on in the world, and smugly abstain from that which our friends could never imagine abstaining from, and which we’ve known we’ve needed to abstain from for decades. Whatever. It’s wordy. It’s a fucking blog, future me. They’re supposed to contain words. Also, maybe, if I’m writing a blog where the over 50% of the audience is myself, writing it is supposed to feel at least a little similar to masturbating.

Where to begin? Well, let’s start with this: I am a college-educated youth who attended what’s commonly referred to as the best public university in the world. I received a rolled up piece of paper symbolizing a degree on a stage with other students and professors a year and a half ago. So it’s recent. And right off the bat, in my young adulthood, I have a chip on my shoulder, having that big qualifier of “public.” I went to the world’s fanciest college... for the proletariat. What does that mean? For me, this brings to mind a lot of issues having to do with the distribution of wealth in the United States, in addition to what the hell is going on economically here and in the world—but that’s something to get into later. The more pressing issue is what the hell the role of a college-educated young person is today. DFW pretty succinctly laid out an idea of what that could be in his famous address. His point was basically that college (specifically, a liberal arts education) gives you the critical thinking skills necessary to be able to get through life under capitalism (or whatever you want to call the current regime) without going crazy. I think we can do better than that. Also, fuck it, I’m giving myself permission to be temporarily pissed off, because fuck that, dude. I know that rage isn’t always an indicator of fruitful conversation, but I gotta let some steam out somewhere. I’m sure that it’ll only lead to me being better down the line. God—I am pissed. About how we’re deciding to go about talking through issues we’re having as a society (on Twitter, but also in comments sections and in NY Times articles). I have so much anger, I’m just now realizing, and I need to process it without stupidly burning myself out on it. It’s a subject for later, and not what we’re talking about right now. Right now, we’re talking about the role of the college-educated youth today. I think we’re getting somewhere, too. I don’t think the role of the college-educated youth in today’s scenario is to correct their friends and families, nor is it to Tweet about how embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible stupid people are—however embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible they may be. The role, to me, has to do with learning this stuff. Learning about systems of power, systems of abuse (many of which hum merrily along in universities—looking at you, Searl. [My anger, you guide me, but you also lead me astray]).Staying ON POINT. The way it has to do with these things is that today’s C.E.Y. needs to notice them, understand them, then DO something about them. There are, for instance, things that we learn about privilege and prejudice in university that we may be tempted to hurl at our elders back home as insults. Our jobs, as young students, are to be sexy, fashionable, charismatic stewards of the new age. Instead of yelling at our parents about being racist, we should, say, intervene in a subtle way that guides rather than punishes. That preserves trust and connection in relationships while simultaneously doing our best to right centuries-old wrongs. But this is about so much more than that. Our role is about how we conduct ourselves as the nations intelligentsia. But that’s a question. I’m not answering it here, try as I might. I still don’t know how I feel about it. It stretches into all corners of life, this role. For instance, into several things in my life I’m mad about.

For instance, I kind of hate my closest loved ones. Oops. That’s where I’m at. Am I supposed to ignore these feelings? They’re there, they’ve been there, and if I know anything about our brains, it’s that feelings shouldn’t be ignored. That’s what dumb ass patriarchs think. The funniest/saddest part of that is that they, said dumb asses, tell themselves that suppressing their feelings is the manly thing to do. It’s honestly just the cowardly thing to do. Men are so afraid of confronting their feelings that they would rather go their entire life wearing a life three sizes too small than mention a thing about it. Anyway. They’re conditioned to feel this way by their surroundings. This—this is a great point that I would love to be a major takeaway here. The thing about being educated is that you’re aware of systems, that systems need to be changed. Fault the people who can change the systems, if anyone, but really, even they are just products of the system. The good thing is that, as a powerless mass of atomized society, we have been created by these systems knowing SOME things that are wrong with it. Now we, the crumbs of dust living in and created by the gargantuan grandfather clock of life, have the sentience necessary to band together and make switch out some gears. Picture a big hand of made of dust, fixing the clock. That’s us. That’s what the role of college educated students is today. But that’s not so much the point of this paragraph, so much is the fact that I kind of hate my closest loved ones—which feels so good to say. My best friends, for instance, are really rough individuals. One is an obvious, obnoxiously insecure, compulsive liar. He’s not super tall and weighs almost 300 pounds. It’s not nice to say this stuff, but the purpose of life isn’t to be nice about everybody all the time in your own head, or on your own anonymous blog. He alienates everyone I bring him around with his bizarre persona. His insecurity is so deep that I shit you not, almost a majority of the interactions I’ve had with him would very reasonably get a “come on,” response from anyone. He has to create little talking points to make his life feel acceptable. He’s one of those people who constantly refers conversations back to their insecurities, and how they feel so secure about them, for this reason and that reason. It’s like, Christ, man. Come on. I feel a lot more ways about this, but I’m a little scared he’ll see this some day. I’m worried he’s going to die young, because he is extremely overweight. His doctor said he’s a few months away from a heart attack/stroke unless he takes immediate action, which it seemed like he was taking initially, but it doesn’t really seem like it anymore. I don’t know. The whole situation feels extremely choked by our inability to just communicate with our fucking words. And yes, I am sounding angry, I’m not actually this angry, but consider these the bubbles from a can of soda that’s been shaken. What will be left is the only-slightly-bubbled soda. That’ll come soon. For now, there are bubbles. New paragraph.

The point that I was trying and failing to get to in the previous paragraph is that I don’t like this guy. He has a lot of great qualities, and he’s certainly not a bad person to have in one’s life—as in, he’ll never cheat on his spouse, and he’ll always go the extra mile for his friends in a certain sense. But I don’t. I wish I could just talk to him about this weird, bizarre, fucking deal breaking shit, but I just can’t. Our communication is choked. I don’t think it’s his fault, though. I think it’s to do with overlapping systems of culture that make it difficult. Maybe. Maybe that’s not the point here, and the real point is just that I feel stuck in that situation. Moving on.

(TW: sexual assault)

Another friend is a fucking bona fide sexual assaulter. He practically got #metoo’d, on a personal level. His gf broke up with him because he sexually assaulted the female half of their best-friend-couple. He fingered her while sharing a bed with her and his gf, for some confusing reason. We talked about it and he gave me this wordy, bizarre, incongruent tale of what happened. It involved a LOT of details and qualifiers. When I talked to the dude half of the couple, the guy who was (and still is) with the woman who got assaulted, he said that my friend just straight up did a ton of nonconsensual shit. He also said that when his gf told other people, more people came forward saying this guy had been creepy to other women in their friend circle. This friend absolutely has a history of gaslighting and successfully avoiding trouble by forcing his way. I need to talk to him, but again, fucking choked. I have no ability to have any kind of “real talk” with him. We do not have a venue, and the prospect of confrontation is absolutely debilitating to the average WASP-y dude. Which brings us to our next situation.

I have a great friend I met in undergrad. She is very well-liked, and while I definitely don’t agree with everything she thinks, I really value her friendship. Her boyfriend is a fucking nightmare. Not really, honestly. There are actual nightmare boyfriends. This boyfriend is more of a waking nightmare. The kind of nightmare that becomes worse because it’s so hard to call out. It just keeps going. I’ve kept CLOSE track, and every SINGLE time I’ve hung out with them as a couple, this guy crosses the line. He says condescending, mean, weird, bizarre, shit that... there’s just no better way to say it than he crosses a line that normal people don’t cross. I haven’t counted, but we’ve probably hung out close to 30 times. Every time it happens, every time I give him another chance. I got a little counseling about this situation from a friend’s mom, just in casual conversation, and her advice was to figure out what in me upset me about this guy. At that point, I realized that what Eric Andre said is true: advice is stupid. Also, that I am not going to run my life based on what this person, who I previously looked up to in a god-like way when it came to relationships, says. I am going to figure it out on my own, because it seems like everybody’s solution to relationship issues is to never talk about them, or to have some kind of inner-peace solution that makes getting abused not suck so bad (looking at you, DFW). Ugh. Okay. Moving on, again. Because yep, there’s so, so much more. Again, asking questions here, not answering them.

Also, if you’re reading this and thinking “damn, bro, your life is boring,” that’s my point. This is just normal life. These are just normal people. This is the water we’re swimming in. It’s fucking tense, man. Living in the United States is tense.

I’m running out of steam at this point, but God damn it. My brothers are dick holes. And we’re great friends. They are guys who don’t ever cause a fuss, avoid confrontation at all costs, and are nothing but rewarded for it. Sometimes I think I have something to learn from them in that regard. But is that really the life we want to live? Just don’t communicate your issues? It’s just frustrating. They act superior to others, but are categorically unable to have an honest, undiplomatic conversation. They act superior to others, and are treated as superior. It feels a little like talking to robots, talking to them, decoding what they’re saying to ascertain how they may actually be feeling in a given moment. I have no idea how they feel about me. Or anything. I don’t even think they know or care. I think they just get by, and they’re rewarded for it.

Alright, moving right along. My dad. Damn do I want to not talk to that guy. I can’t talk about anything real with him. It’s like playing ping pong where the other person can only hit the ball if it goes where his paddle already is, and his paddle’s made out of glass.

This is a sample of some real life issues I am dealing with, spoken as honestly as possible, as is evidenced by the rampant spelling and grammatical errors. College works into this as the thing that has given me recourse for dealing with this stuff. As a college educated youth, I can approach life in an informed, good way. This is life. Etc.

What am I walking away with? Well, I now know for sure that I have a lot of shit to work through. MAYBE more than one Tumblr post. Also, I guess I am proving that people still Tumbl in 2021. I am starting to really understand what the questions I have are. I think part of my issue stems from some feeling of being “out of the loop,” or having some natural, in-set outrage about not understand what’s going on, which was founded by years of being the same height as the people around me’s knees, being the youngest person in my family. Everyone around me were skyscraper people with adult conversations happening way up there. It’s a little imposter syndrome, I think, too. It comes from being the youngest, I think, too. Mixed with a natural sensitivity that I’ve noticed people like me have.

My goal is to get better at living my life. That involves understanding how I want to live, it involves understanding what my values really are, thinking through them a little, and more. I think it’s really worth it. In the meantime, I am not a work in progress. I am a fucking careful, cool, bright, talented guy who is not perfect, but is working on it. And I am going to postpone making any big decisions about my personal life until I get some clarity.

I thought I’d get more to the subject of the new proletarians, which is something I was thinking about today when listening to Harmontown and asking myself questions about what college is for if it just makes us unemployable, debt-ridden, twitter douchers. Anyway. We’ll get to it again sometime.

This was nice. Let’s do this again sometime.

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