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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Unsolicited 19

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

Your chest sinks as you see the familiar marquee. It’s the same restaurant you and Colin went for your forfeited date. You cringe and look over at Lloyd’s knowing smirk. It’s intentional. He never does anything without malice. You don’t say anything, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I figured you never got to have your big date and hey, this time, you got an upgrade,” he winks at you as his shifts into park, “isn’t daddy so generous?”

You bite down and remember how you fled in humiliation. His words echoing in your ears. "She calls me daddy…" It’s a bitter sort of irony.

“Thank you… daddy,” you force out.

“Ah, don’t act like you weren’t just clenching my fingers like a mousetrap,” he taunts, “if you’re good, I’ll finish the job.”

He smirks and puckers his lips, taking a deep whiff of his mustache. You grimace and undo your seatbelt, sickened to your core. You get out and he mirrors you a step behind. He comes around and grabs your arm, ushering up towards the restaurant.

“I didn’t have to bring you, lamb chop,” he girds, “I got a dozen girls who will drop their panties to be here.”

You tweak a brow but again, you withhold a retort. What do you care about those women? Sounds like a lot of smoke to you.

You enter and the hostess greets him by name. He would be memorable, he always makes sure of it. You’re happy she doesn’t seem to remember you but you recognise her from that disastrous night. How could you predict that the douchebag in Gucci would haunt your existence so entirely?

As the hostess leads you between tables, Lloyd drops his hand and squeezes your ass. He turns and whispers above your ear, “babe, you see anyone you know?”

He gropes you as you try not to trip in your heels and you glance around. You latch onto Lloyd’s coat without thinking as you see a familiar buzzcut and blond ringlets bouncing with laughter. You can’t breathe as you walk past Colin and her. Ali. The other woman. He brought her there, to your place…

“Don’t panic, baby,” Lloyd says under his breath, “he ain’t gonna win this.”

You’re sat at a booth. You hand over your coats as the hostess offers to check them and you settle in as Lloyd slides around the seat to sit close to you. He crowds you, slinging his arm over your shoulder as he flips over the drink menu. He drags his finger down the wine list.

“I hear there pinot is pretty good,” he drawls before turning the page, ��you pick out something sweet for yourself, baby cakes. A nice strong cock…tail.”

You ignore how he drags out the last word and peruse the menu. The apple sounds good but you’re not in the mood for it. You settle on a Moscow mule as Lloyd signals for the server. A man appears in sleek black and offers to take his order. You put in your request before Lloyd asks for his usual.

“Oh, and garcon,” Lloyd calls the server back, “can I send a bottle of pinot to that table?” He points across the restaurant, “yeah, the one with bleach blond bimbo. Thanks.”

You smile at the man until he’s gone and his under your breath, “Lloyd, what–”

“Don’t question me,” he chides as his hand slips down your side, “and you know what to call me.”

He squeezes so his fingers curl painfully into your waist and you wince, “yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“A few drinks will loosen you up,” his hand descends to your hip and rests just above your ass, “well, most of you.”

“This isn’t fun for me.”

“It will be,” he sits back and feels around his jacket with his free hand, “gimme a sec, I needa make a phone call.”

He retracts his arm from around you and sidles around the bench. You watch him stride away and into the back hall near the kitchens. He looks taller than usual, his figure refined by the tailoring. It makes you feel like even more of a slob.

The server returns with your drinks and you thank him. Lloyd’s whiskey sits untouched as you take a sip of the mule. He returns and drops onto the bench with a sigh as he smooths his shirt. He keeps his head high as he peers around.

You look over as the server presents a bottle of white wine to Colin’s table. The man points over to you and both head crane around to see. Lloyd waves and shoots a finger gun at them as he hooks his arm around your neck and pulls you close to kiss your cheek sloppily.

“This is gettin’ me hard, sweetheart.”

“Stop,” you plead as you sit rigidly and hide your discomfort with another swig of alcohol.

“Hey, this is just the warm-up, I got a whole show planned,” he takes away the glass and sets it down, grabbing your chin as he forces your head around.

He smothers you with his lips, kissing you deeply as he leans over you, nearly crushing you down against the seat. You gulp in surprise as his tongue invades your mouth. You murmur and grasp at his chest. What the fuck is he doing?

“Oh, baby, you taste nice,” he pulls back and forms a V with his index and middle finger around his mouth, wiping away your lipstick lewdly as he flicks his tongue at you, “go on and touch me. See how hard I am.”

“Oh my god–”

“Did I tell you, you look delicious? Because I’m gonna fucking gobble you up until you’re shaking–”

“Jes–”

The server interrupts your disgust and Lloyd shows now shame as he keeps you close to him. He smirks up at the young man and orders himself a steak before ordering you a pasta dish. You don’t argue as you hadn’t even seen the menu.

“You’re a lobster gal, right? Doesn’t fucking matter ‘cause you’ll eat what I give you but… sometimes you make me think. You know, not many woman do that.”

“Uh…” you squint and reach for your drink again.

“Don’t get too fucking drunk, baby, I don’t want you passing out as you’re choking on my cock.”

You puff your lips out in exasperation. You have no idea how to have a conversation with this man. He trails his hand back around your lower back and walks his fingers up your leg. You shift and pull your legs tight. He taps you and risks, urging your thighs apart as he slides his fingers between them.

He pushes his hand up your skirt and you grip the edge of the seat to keep from squirming. You’re overly aware of all the people around you. Your heart pumps hotly as you squeak.

“Someone will see–”

“Only if you make a show of it.”

A glimmer of your former arousal lingers and he glides along your folds. Your eyes fall on Colin as Lloyd searches out your clit and you swallow loudly. You sit frozen, mortified as your husband looks up from his plate. The bottle of wine is still corked as he dines in silence with his mistress.

His blue eyes widen as your lips part in a gasp. Lloyd swirls his fingers cloyingly around your cunt, spreading the slickness up and down, and toying with your bundle of nerves. He growls and you peek over as he glares across the restaurant at Colin.

“That’s it, baby, I want him to see you cum for me,” he snarls and bites his lip, “you’re already close, aren’t you? Daddy’s little slut about to make a mess.”

“Please…” you wisp as you clasp your hand around his wrist.

He drags his fingers down and shoves two knuckles deep into your cunt. You snap your mouth shut and hold back a moan. He squeezes so the heel of his head comes flush to your clit and he rocks his hand.

“Put your hand on my dick,” he rasps, “now.”

Senseless, you obey. You reach to touch the front of his pants and feel the rigid shape pressing eagerly against the fabric. You grab him firmly, feeling his thick bulge as it twitches in your hand. You groan and quickly smother it as you cover your mouth.

“I can’t wait to split you in half later,” Lloyd breathes, “you think cuck boy will wanna watch that too?”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #unsolicited #series #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man #the grey man #au

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swifty-fox · 1 month

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Hiii! I love your priest!Gale fics! (I have reread them way too many times 🙈💗🙈) Are you working on part 4? Can't wait for the angst in it

am i ACTIVELY working on them? No I got really caught up in kfak verse!

Right now I',m ending out the chapters of my brady/benny fic. Then finishing Bikeriders smutfic because its ALMOST done (part 1 at least)

and then after that it will be LB part 4

But plans for it are some rough angry car sex (consensual) and maybe we'll get John's backstory

a snippet for you:

“You’re really hitting me in the ‘yes daddy harder’ places with that face you’re pulling right now,” John says, swirling his finger through the over-complicated mess of a coffee in front of him.

It tasted awful, but he ordered it just to see if the kid behind the counter could actually pull it off.

Chick continued to keep his ‘yes daddy harder’ expression, which was in fact a look of profound exasperation and disappointment. And didn’t really awaken anything in John, but he found it plenty amusing to see the way the older mans eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“I could have you thrown in jail today if i wanted, you know,” Chick Harding takes a sip of his own soy latte, “I could make up a reason, I hold your life in my hands.”

“That’s a misuse of power and a miscarriage of justice, and also you like me. I’m your favorite little POW just admit it.”

“Someone’s going to pop you one in the mouth, mocking veterans like that.”

John spreads his hands wide in a dont shoot the messenger sort of gesture “hey, I can claim it. My great gandpops was a POW. Got his flight jacket and everything hanging in my closet. This is my history.”

“I think I should arrest you.”

John grins at him.

“You been meeting with Brady?” Chick asks, setting his coffe down with a pleased hum, begins folding his utensils wrapper accordion style until the cheap paper has become nothing more than a little square. It’s the same thing he does every time, restless fingers the only betrayal that the parole officer wasn’t just a robot.

Which John already knew was false. He’d looked the guy up the moment he’d had access to internet again. Had a neatly sealed Juvenile record and an exemplary military record which meant the guy was both secretly interesting and also probably a little batshit.

“Every couple weeks just like those fascist fucks tells me too. Just like i meet you every six weeks and we pretend I’m in need of babysitting and you pretend you’re not hoping that college boy will finally write his number on your coffee cup.” John leans forward on his elbows,the table creaking under his weight “I could do it for you, if you’re too shy.”

Chick doesn’t give him the satisfaction of blushing, but John can see the way his sholulders straighten slightly.

“He even looks like me a bit too. Curly brown hair,” John smooths his fingers across his mustache, “ the sexy landing strip. You sure you’re not displacing some sexual attraction?”

“You are the devil incarnate. That barista means nothing to me.”

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy, meeting your favorite little felon.”

“Only person around here that seems grumpy is you, Egan.”

“Me?” John stretches, tilting his chair back with one foot until he nearly topples backward, “Whay’ve I got to be grumpy about? I’ve got a shitty dead-end job, a dying grandma who, by the way, isn’t actually even my grandma, and i’ve got to check in with some middle aged drill sergeant with a thing for some guy who looks like Sean Cody’s next up and coming.”

“I don’t know what that even means.”

“Oh you so do.” John smiles.

#swiftywrites #clegan #buck x bucky #little beasts

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not-your-bro · 1 month

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do you have any ud hcs? It could be anything idc

ooh, free rein! sure sure. josh + chris are def the characters i most frequently rotate in my mind, so some stuff about them off the top of my head...

josh

film studies major. i must admit i don't adhere to the psych major he's given in canon, though director/producer roles aren't my first choice for him either. he goes all-in on tangible stuff for his prank, so i put him in the practical effects arena.

artist in his spare time, but big surprise he's cagey about it. like, chris sees josh's sketchbook in josh's room all the time, but he's never actually looked inside.

with both movie sfx + art, josh is practical > digital, and he only dips into digital effects or art when he absolutely needs to. i just think he's a tactile sort of guy who prefers to make things with his hands, so creating on a screen alone doesn't give him the same satisfaction.

on social media in that he has accounts, but they're sporadically active at best. he can be slow to respond to texts/dms and his responses can be short, which gives off the impression that he's disengaged or bored. he isn't, he just doesn't want to be on his phone.

this is a longstanding hc of mine that i've absolutely mentioned before, but: designed hannah's butterfly tattoo! didn't really understand why, he was like you know your tattoo artist can do one for you, right. but she insisted, and he obliged.

gay as fuck. realized young, came out young, very comfortable. as demonstrated by the fact that, much to everyone's annoyance, he wears shirts that say shit like 'employee of the month at the dick sucking factory' in public.

chris

ok, so i've reached the point where the chris in my mind looks different enough that i get a little jumpscared when i see him in-game LMAO. i hc him both taller and heavier. he's gotta be at least 6 ft. and a chris hartley who's thin is no chris hartley at all. not to me.

does not come from money, like lower middle class. i have two totally different hcs about his family that both feel real to me: one is that he's an only child, his parents divorced when he was a kid (old enough to understand, but not quite a teenager), and he lives with his mom. the other is that his parents are not divorced, and he has a big family - lots of siblings. i've been going with the former in my fic lately, but both work for me. the constant is that his family's economic situation is more precarious than most people in the friend group, and family trips with (and funded by) the washingtons were his primary vacations.

has adhd. i find 'always on his phone bc he just loooves technology' less interesting than 'always on his phone bc he has existing attention problems.' this went undiagnosed for a while, and his performance in school suffered for it.

speaking of, he is not all-around school smart. like, emily may have strengths and weaknesses (even if she'd never admit them), but she can swing As across the board. chris cannot. he's getting good grades in classes that interest him or cater to his solution-oriented brain, but he's terrible in any class where there's no right answer. english, art - he does not get it. love him to death but his media literacy is Bad

bi as fuck, but it was a journey. thought he was straight for a long time, dismissing any attraction to men as a 'who hasn't had gay thoughts' kind of thing. i think it took him a while to come to terms with it bc he had a lot of internalized shit to work through. if a friend came out as bi, he'd have been like cool 👍 but him? surely not! he got there eventually though.

wowee this is long. as a lil bonus hc for another character, i'll add that i don't think jess went to college - i think she went to a hair/beauty school. she loves what a social job it is, getting to chit chat with clients all day, and like josh, she does best when she's working with her hands.

#thank u kindly for the ask!! sorry i do not know the meaning of the word brevity #asks #thebestever16 #until dawn #josh washington #chris hartley

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morganski-19 · 6 months

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I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 15: Visitors

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

cw: minor descriptions of violence/physicall assault

Present Day, March 1987

“When are you going to move in,” Sarah asks over the phone.

“Next week, I think. I should get the keys in a few days and then we’ll take some time to get some basic furniture. Then we should be all good.”

Steve was excited for the move. Excited to get out of this house to something he owns. Something he can make his own. A place where he can walk through the door and see himself on the walls. In the furniture. Where it feels like home.

Not just a large house where most of the lights are never on. Suffocating anyone who lives in it.

It’ll be an adjustment. But he’s willing to do it. Ready to do it. He’s been stuck in the same loop for so long, he ready to break it.

“Any word from your parents?”

Steve still feels bad about that. If things went the way he wanted them to, Julie would never have to endure his parents. Over the phone or in person. Knowing her, she’d probably want to sit behind him in court. She’d see them there. But wouldn’t be dealing with him. That’s his job, not hers. Not anyone’s.

He’s been dealing with his parents for his entire life. He’s used to it. Knows how to shut up and say the right things just so the issue is dropped. Most of the time. Sometimes he fights back. Stands up for himself. Just to get knocked back down to the lowest peg possible. But he tries.

Now, it’s a totally different ballgame. They can’t knock him down again, not really. He’s stronger than he was back then. Older. More mature. Has a sense of his own self worth and how it doesn’t revolve around their opinions. They never cared enough to stay, why should he care about their words.

“Uh yeah. They got the papers, last I heard from the courthouse is that they got the response letter. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well, that was to be expected. Anything else?”

Steve hesitates. “Yeah, um. I sort of got kicked out.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my dad said he wanted me gone. That if I thought I was going to get anything from them anymore I was wrong and can’t keep living here rent free. But they haven’t, like, sent a cop or anything to make sure I’m gone. So, it’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“That’s only because you have an in with the Chief, Steve,” Sarah says sternly. He can picture the frustration on her face. “When did they tell you this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Sarah swears under her breath. “You’re cutting it close here, Steve.”

“I know,” he says before she can continue. “I know I am. But we’re so close to getting out. Most of our stuff is out of the house except for essentials, and I have people on standby incase they come home. I’m not going into this blind. I know how they are.”

“The minute they show up, the minute that this backup plan gets put into place, you call me immediately.”

Steve knows that Sarah’s just planning for the worst possible outcome. That it’s better to plan for things that might never happen than to scramble for a solution. He doesn’t want to think of the worst. Deep down, there’s a strong feeling that it’s actually going to happen.

Because he does know them. He knows how they will want to fight. They don’t want to do it at all. Threats have gotten them out of trouble before, it shouldn’t be any different now. Only Steve wasn’t giving up. Giving in. He separated himself from them enough that their words don’t mean shit anymore.

At least that’s how he’ll act. In court, he’ll tell the judge the truth, not caring what their going to say as a rebuttal. The way they’ll tear him down as much as they can. It won’t affect him then, but Steve has no way of knowing how it will affect him behind closed doors.

Despite everything, someone deep inside him craves for their approval. Their attention. That person has been getting satisfaction knowing that he’s getting it somehow. The same person that threw large parties just to get the cops called. Just to see if they would show up again. Give him a phone call. Steve wants to ignore that part of him, but it’s there.

That same part of him will probably cry when this is all over. Knowing that his parents are done with him forever. That they think the worst of him. Their opinion shouldn’t matter. It still does sometimes.

“I promise I will,” Steve assures.

“Good.” Sarah hangs up without another word.

Steve’s relationship with his parents has always been complicated. He knew that. Everyone knew that. There was a small hope that if he just acted right, did all the right things, the relationship would become less complicated. Less strained. He’d be their son the way other sons were. Not just a trophy to sit on a shelf, but something more. It never became that, no matter how hard he tried.

So he stopped trying, and look where he is now.

. . .

Julie was putting her plate in the sink when a car pulled into the driveway. Steve’s head turned to the door, wondering who it is. He never does that. People come and go here all the time, normally Eddie since he has a car. Robin if she gets him to pick her up on the way.

But Steve never turns his head when it’s them. Like he has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to random people showing up at his door. Always knowing who it is before he sees them. This is different.

Still, Julie doesn’t pay much thought on it. It’s probably just one of them. Or maybe one of the kids had their parents drive them over. It’s nothing.

Until they hear the garage door start to open. No one ever uses the garage.

Steve’s body tightens. Standing straighter that he normally does. He abandons his dish in the sink, walking toward the door leading to the garage. On attention. Waiting for something to pounce.

She’s never seen him like this before.

When he returns to the kitchen, there’s a frightened look in his eye. One that immediately makers her heart start to pound faster. It can’t be that bad. What can scare him into looking like this? Spine tied up with a string. Stance ready to start running. Afraid. He’s so afraid.

His mouth opens to say something as a car door slams. A rage filled voice traveling across the house. Enough that she can place who’s it is, even after only hearing it once. Steve’s fear matches in her eyes.

“Steve, who’s here?” Her voice waivers.

Without saying a word, Steve gently grabs her arm and brings her to the sliding door. “You can’t be here right now. They can’t know you’re here.”

“Steve,” she asks again.

He slides the door open, the evening air making her shiver. “The Byers house isn’t that far through the woods. You remember going there for Christmas Eve, right? Go straight about thirty feet, then make a right and keep walking.”

“Steve.”

The door starts to open, and the voices fill the other room. Steve’s eyes dart towards the sound before landing back on her. Only making her more scared.

“I’ll be there within an hour with the rest of our stuff. But it will be worse if they see you’re here. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“Steve,” she pleads for him to slow down.

“You got it. Go to the loose fence behind the pool house and then walk straight a little bit. Then make a right and keep going. You’ll see their house after a while. Take this.” He reaches for the walkie on the kitchen table. Messing with the dial. “When you get to the woods, call for a code red. It won’t go to everyone, just to them. I’ll be there when I can.”

Before Julie can say anything else, Steve pushes her out the door and shuts it behind her. Sliding the lock into place.

Heavy breaths fill her lungs, burning slightly with the chilled air. She looks at Steve though the glass. Face frantically asking for an explanation. Trying to convince her the one she has is wrong. They can’t be here right now.

“Go, please,” Steve mouths through the glass. Terrified.

Julie turns. Walking to the pool house. Finding the loose panels of the fence and pulls them to the side. The same way she would do when she would sneak into this backyard. When she lived in that other house and would do anything not to be there.

Steve’s instructions replay in her mind. Walk straight for a bit, about thirty feet. Maybe more. The turn right and keep walking until you see the house. Call for a code red. Julie looks at the walkie in her hand before she presses the button. Seeing how her hand in shaking.

“Copy,” a man’s voice comes through the speaker. Julie unable to place it right now. “I’ll wait outside for you. If you don’t see the porch light, look for the flashlight. Call again if you get lost.”

Julie turns to the house again. The light click on in Steve’s room. He shouldn’t be much longer. There’s not much else to grab. He should be right after her.

She thinks about waiting. But she already called. They’ll get worried if she doesn’t show up.

Her mind can’t stop racing as she walks. Sun setting slowly as it becomes harder to see the ground. Squinting to make sure she doesn’t trip on a root or branch.

Did Steve’s parents really show up? Just unannounced. That part wasn’t as surprising when she thought about it. They seemed like the people to do that. Steve mentioned that they might come home. She didn’t believe it then. She barely believed it now.

He was right. They showed up at the worst possible time. Give it another week and they would have been out of there anyway. But no, they just had to show up today.

The rage of Steve’s father’s voice rings in her head. The threats on the phone call finding their way back to her mind. What would they do when they saw he was still there? He wanted the two of them gone, that didn’t happen. Not yet. It was happening, but something told Julie that wouldn’t matter. In their heads, Steve disobeyed them. Again.

. . .

Steve watches Julie round the pool house before he turns away. Knowing that she’s going to a safe place, that no matter what the Byers’ will take care of her. His safety, he’s not so sure about. Anger fills his dad fast, and it’s already bubbling over with the sight of the Beemer still sitting in the driveway. Or the fact that there’s lights on in the house.

He’s about to see his parents for the first time in two years. And he’s terrified.

Everything slows down like one of the horror movie scenes. Where the footsteps thump down the hall while the protagonist just stands and waits like an idiot. Waiting for it to strike. They don’t seem like such idiots anymore. Steve knows how feet can feel glued to the floor, but it has a whole new meaning now.

His back is straight, chest puffed out in a way that makes him look bigger than he is. Anything to make him more menacing than his father’s glare. Or fist. Or whatever is coming his way as his father finds his way to the kitchen.

For the first time in two years, Steve looks at his father’s face. Disgusted how much it looks like his. A constant reminder of where he comes from, no matter how hard he tries. Rage filled eyes meet Steve’s, waiting for him to make the first move. All he does is cross his arms, clench his jaw. Trap his father in a glare. He’s not speaking until he has to.

“Steven,” his mother breaks the silence. “We were not expecting you.”

She always tried to keep the peace between them. To try and keep in his father’s rage. It rarely worked. But she tried. It was the one thing Steve commended her for. Deep down, he felt bad for her. Trapped in an unhappy marriage having to follow after Richard just to make sure he didn’t cheat. But that still meant leaving him, and she didn’t call enough for him to forgive for that.

“No, we were not,” Richard finally speaks, voice tense. “What are you still doing here?” Considering you are no longer welcome in this house, that is.

His father can’t even speak his name. Steve debates walking past right up to his room. Filling the last tote bag before doing the same with the rest of Julie’s stuff. Walking out without an explanation. His father raises his eyebrow with a tilt to his head. Awaiting an explanation.

Instead, Steve decides to gloat. “I’m actually just waiting for the keys to my house. Didn’t want the neighbors to think you left your son to sleep in his car. That wouldn’t be so nice to the reputation, wouldn’t it, dad.” He continues to glare at his father, not backing down.

His father lets out a condescending laugh. “If you were so concerned about reputation, then we wouldn’t have to go to court. Would we, Steven? Instead, you think that you deserve some kind of justice. After all we’ve done for you.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “What did you do for me exactly?”

“Put a roof over your head, make sure there was money to put food on the table. Give you a car, clothes, expensive gifts. See you through high school, pay for your sports equipment. Everything you have is because we gave it to you.” Richard’s voice raises, almost yelling. Almost.

Steve resists a flinch when the last word booms through the room. Instead of saying another word, he side-steps his parents, heading upstairs. Flicking on the light in his room, stuffing as much of his stuff into a tote bag. His room already looks bare except for the sheet and the stupid car poster on his wall.

His mother appears in his doorway moments later, a more silent argument ready to be said. Until she sees the walls. “You painted?” she gasped.

“I did. Hope you don’t mind. I won’t be here much longer anyway. You can turn it back into what it was.”

A sickened smile forms on his mother’s face. “You never told me you wanted to change your room. We could have done it together.”

Meaning that she could have changed it while he watched. Hating how it would have turned out no matter what the product was. His mother never listened to him anyway.

“Well, you were never here long enough to change it, so I just did it myself.” He smiles to himself when his mother’s smile twitches. Knowing that his words stung.

The tote bag gets slung over his shoulder as he pushes past her. Leaving her to look at her ruined masterpiece as he packs up Julie’s room. Pulling out the tote bag she has underneath her bed and putting away the few essentials that she had left. Taking out another to shove her clothes into.

His mother gasps as she sees the paint over these walls as well. This room in particular being her favorite guest room. “What have you done?”

“Painted. Like I said.” He continues to fill the second tote bag.

Richard finds his way up the stairs, done waiting for Steve. Eyes landing on the desk where the picture of Julie and her mother rests. Steve grabs it before he can, gently placing it in the tote bag. Throwing some clothes around it so it doesn’t break.

“Has someone been living in here?” his father asks, not willing to admit he recognized the woman in the picture.

Steve takes a deep breath. “Oh no one special. Just your daughter.”

His parents stiffen at the same time. Bringing a sly smile to Steve’s face.

“I don’t have a daughter,” his mother says with feigned confidence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him.” He meets his father’s eyes again. “I was talking about Julie.”

As fast the smile formed of Steve’s face, it’s smacked off. Cheek stinging with the contact of his father’s hand. His mother gasps, scolding her husband. Knowing nothing would stop him from doing it again. Steve grabs the desk chair, using it to balance him as he gets his bearings. Waits for the ringing in his ear to calm down, for the breath to return to his lungs.

“You are never to speak that name again,” Richard commands. “She is nothing.”

“Julie is not nothing.” Steve manages to stand, only to have to grip the chair again when Richard’s fist makes contact again. Lip darting out to taste the blood coming from his split lip. A short laugh escapes as he stands, planting his feet stronger this time. “You really thought I’d never figure out about her.”

“You think you are so tough, don’t you, Steven. Changing your room, getting a job, housing someone you don’t know. All of that you could do because of me. All of that you are going to lose. What will come of you when you don’t have us paying for everything anymore? When you can’t come crawling back to us when life gets hard.”

Steve manages to stand again. Plants his feet the way he’s learned to. Treating his father like every other monster he’s faced. Wishing that there was a bat in his hand to twirl around. Make a show of protecting himself.

He doesn’t need it this time. Richard might pretend to be strong and menacing, but he’s just a person. Who got a few good hits in because Steve wasn’t prepared for them. He is now.

“You would know something about housing someone you don’t know. You’ve been housing me for twenty years.”

Richard’s arm raises again, but Steve was ready for it this time. Catching his wrist before it can contact Steve’s face. It surprises the both of them, but Steve doesn’t let his guard down. His eyes dart to his mother, who hides just barely behind Richard. Laura was never one for confrontation, and now he’s something more than just her son. Now he’s a threat.

“I am more than what you think I am. I changed my room because I never liked the old one. Because I should feel welcome in my childhood home. I got the job because if my hard work, not because of my name. I gave Julie a home because she is my sister, that is a fact. And because her and I have something in common. Our father knows nothing about us.”

“Let go of me, Steven.” For the first time, Richard is the one with fear in his eyes.

“Are you going to hit me again?” Steve tightens his grip.

Richard shakes his head. “No, no I’m not. Don’t do anything rash here, Steven.”

Steve lets go of Richard’s wrist with a swing, letting it slam back into him. “I go by Steve, but you both always ignored that anyway. I’m not some kid you get to push around anymore, no matter how hard you’ll try. You might think I’m stupid for staying here after you told me to get out, you might think what I’m doing is pointless. But I’m not doing all of this for me anymore, I’m doing it for me and for Julie. Because while you thought she was just something you could pay to never think about again, you missed out on a pretty great kid.”

He takes a deep breath. “But I guess you’re used to that. You missed out on the kid you kept around. Even if you weren’t here to see me grow up. I hope it all was worth it. It was a lot of hell for me.”

Steve grabs the tote bags, slinging one over each shoulder and the other in his hand. Taking a moment to realize that this is the last time he’ll ever set foot in this house. It’ll no longer be his home. It should be sadder than it is. There were many good memories among the bad that happened here. But he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. It’s not over yet, but he’s free of one of his chains.

“You going to let me leave? Not like you want me here anyway.”

Neither of them moves. Not ready to admit they lost.

“Where are you going to go?” Laura asks like she cares. She might, but it was too little too late at this point.

“You don’t get to know that.”

Laura lowers her head in a nod, accepting. Steve pushes his way past them and down the stairs. Finding his keys.

Richard follows him down, not willing to give up. “Don’t think you can have the car, we paid for that. It’s ours.”

Steve laughs, undoing a keychain Robin made him from the ring. “I know, was just getting this off.” He tosses Richard the keys. “There you go. House key is on there too, so you won’t have to bother about me coming back.”

He grabs his flashlight from the hall closet before opening the door. Sparing one last look at his parents, to find anything that shows remorse. All he sees is Richard’s hard stare and Laura’s sorry eyes. Nothing calling him to stay.

So he leaves.

. . .

Julie was lucky she didn’t get lost. She followed the directions and, after a while, saw the porch light. The last bit of sunlight helps her get the rest of the way there. Illuminating the path just slightly so she doesn’t trip.

“Hey,” a voice says from beside her, making her jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Julie turns to see the Chief holding a flashlight, the light pointing towards her. “I think you would have even if I knew you were there.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cold out here.” Hopper steps in front of her, leading her the rest of the way.

Joyce is waiting for them in the house. Getting up from the couch when they open the door. “You’ve been out there for a while. I was getting worried. Oh honey, you’re shaking, are you cold?”

Julie looks down at her hands, seeing them shake. She doesn’t feel cold. More in shock than anything. Afraid of something she’s never really experienced. Only hearing his voice once over the phone. That was enough to spark fear. Not for her, but for Steve.

It was all she could think about when she was walking. What Steve was going to face when his parents saw that he wasn’t there. If they saw what they did to their rooms. If they saw her.

She agreed it was probably best that she wasn’t there. It would have probably made it all ten times worse. But leaving Steve alone in that house, with them. It felt like a bad idea.

He can take care of himself, she knew that. That didn’t stop her from feeling like she should be there. Be a barrier to stop them from hurting him. In whatever way they were going to. Maybe if there was a witness, he could leave without a fight.

“Julie, sweetie, are you ok?” Joyce’s warm voice breaks through her thoughts.

Julie tries to say something, but nothing comes out. It hits her all at once how scared she was for him.

“What time is it?” she asks.

Joyce checks the clock in the living room. “Just about seven thirty, why?”

Julie left a little after seven. So, assuming Steve left right after her, he should be here soon. And if he left a bit later, he should be here by eight. That’s if nothing went wrong. If they didn’t get into an argument. Or he didn’t get lost.

“He said he’d get here within the hour. So by eight. If nothing happened. Do you think something will happen?” Her voice can’t help but shake.

Joyce makes a face that is supposed to help but doesn’t. Full of sympathy, but one of no answers. “I’m not sure. But whatever it is, he’ll be fine. I know he will.”

“And if he isn’t?” Julie keeps seeing the small person that Steve becomes when he talks to his father. How the light drains out of him, and he becomes a shell of the person he is. His father isn’t even in person and can do that. What will happen when he is in person?

“He will be,” Joyce assures. “How about you come in, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water, hot chocolate?”

Julie lets herself be led to the living room. “Water would be nice.”

“Alright. El here if you want to see her, have someone to sit with.”

“Yeah, yes. I would like that.”

Joyce smiles at her. “Ok, I’ll go get her for you. Jim.” She nods her head toward the kitchen before heading down the hall.

Hopper brings her a glass of water, which she takes. Taking a sip before setting it on the table, seeing how her hands still shake. Joyce comes back down the hall motioning for Hopper to join her in the kitchen. Leaving Julie alone in the living room. Until El comes to sit next to her.

“Joyce told me about what happened,” she says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“He used to hit my mom,” Julie blurts out. “He used to hit my mom when they were together, and she made him angry. Steve made him angry. I know he did. He called the house last week and, and kicked us out. And we didn’t leave yet, because we couldn’t. Steve doesn’t get the keys for a few more days. What if he hits Steve, too?”

El’s hands find hers, holding them together to calm the shaking. Julie turns her head to meet El’s eyes. Seeing an expression that feigns strength but fear still rests in her eyes. She’s scared for Steve too.

“I have known Steve for longer that you have. I know how strong he is, how brave he is. He will be ok. I promise.” There’s a certainty in her words.

Somehow, Julie believes her. “Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah. He’ll be ok.”

“Would you like a hug?”

Julie nods. Her breath starting to even out again, the adrenaline keeping her tears at bay failing.

El opens her arms and leans forward to give Julie a hug. Julie takes it with a choked sob, tears starting to fall. El pats her back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do but it’s helping. With a few deep breaths, Julie’s able to pull herself together. Pulling away from El to wipe the tears from her eyes. She won’t be ok until Steve shows up, but she’s better. For now.

“Thanks, that helped.”

El smiles. “Good. Do you want to watch something while we wait? Keep your mind off of it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

El clicks on the tv, finding a channel with some reruns that Julie doesn’t pay attention to. Her mind is still on Steve. Knowing that the there’s no sunlight left to guide the way, and he has no walkie to let her know when she’s coming. Yet she still grips the one resting in her lap. Hoping by some miracle she hears Steve’s voice through the staticky connection and knows he’s ok.

But nothing comes through. The only noise filling the house is the tv, and the not so silent whispering between Joyce and the Chief in the kitchen. After a while, Hopper heads back outside with the flashlight, walkie stuffed in his jacket pocket. He’s going to look for Steve.

It feels like forever before there’s a knock at the door. Making Julie sit up straighter. Joyce emerges from the kitchen to open it. A very winded Steve behind the door, tote bags slung over his shoulder and flashlight in hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes while catching his breath. “I had to go the long way.”

Joyce ushers him in. Steve barely gets a chance to put the bags down before Julie’s on her feet and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re ok.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Did you get here ok, I know I kind of freaked you out.”

Julie lets go. “Freaked me out. Steve, you terrified the shit out of me. After the phone call last week and the little I knew about him I,” she pauses when she sees his split lip. “He hit you?”

Steve touches his lip. “Yeah, he, uh, he did. But I’m ok. I’ve had far worse than this.”

“You say that like it makes it ok. It doesn’t.”

He looks down with a shake of his head. “I know it doesn’t.”

“He really hit you because you didn’t leave.” Julie can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea. But then, she would never hit someone for any reason. Let alone that.

Steve clears his throat. “Sort of. Why don’t you go sit with El for a bit, I have to talk to Joyce for a second.”

She gives him a confused look, knowing he didn’t answer her question fully. But she still goes to sit on the couch again. Him and Joyce go to the kitchen, speaking in whispers. Something tells her that reason he was attacked was because of her.

. . .

Joyce uses her walkie to let Hopper know that Steve is at the house. She gets him a glass of water and makes him sit down, looking at his lip.

“It’s really not that bad. You and I both know this is the least beat up I’ve ever been after a fight.”

She sits down in the chair across from him. “You should listen to Julie. That still doesn’t make it ok.”

He looks down at his hands. “I know. Just easier to think of it that way. Out of all the things he’s done, he’s never hit me before.”

Hopper comes into the kitchen, sitting down next to Joyce. “You ok, kid?”

Steve shakes his head. “I will be, just need a second. Thanks for making sure she got here. Making sure she was safe. I didn’t know what would happen if he saw her there. Just knowing that she was there at all was the reason why,” he can’t finish the sentence.

“Of course. You both can stay here as long as you need to,” Joyce offers.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hopper crosses his arms. “You could press charges if you wanted, make your case a little stronger.”

“It’s my word against his, and my mom will never speak out against him.” She never did before, why would it change now. “Can I use your phone, I need to make some calls.”

Joyce nods and Steve heads to the phone in the hall. Pulling out Sarah’s number from his pocket. Dialing it with a deep breath. She wouldn’t be happy with this.

She wasn’t. Cursing Steve through the phone with an “I told you so”. But grateful that Julie is safe, grateful that he is too. She gives him a day before she’ll say anything. Give him time to make it look like Julie was just at an extended sleepover. For them to move. He thanks her just before she hangs up.

Robin is next. Takes a second to make sure he’s ok before cursing out his dad. Offering to go over there herself and give him a piece of her mind. He tells her it’s a bad idea, she disagrees, but still says she will keep it all for when she sees him in court. That way there will be witnesses. She makes sure he’s ok, offers to come over. Steve assures that he’s fine and will talk to her again in the morning.

The last person is Eddie. Steve already knows how he’ll react, but still hopes he won’t freak out that much.

“Where are you right now?” he asks after Steve fills him in.

“The Byers. It was the closest place that was safe.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Steve holds the phone closer to his mouth. “Eds, really. You don’t have to come over.”

“Like hell I don’t.” Eddie hangs up before Steve can protest anymore.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to see Eddie right now. That if knowing that his boyfriend was willing to drop everything just to be there with him right now didn’t bring him comfort. Part of him didn’t want Eddie to see him like this, though. Fragile, partially homeless. Taken a few hits to the face.

As if Eddie hasn’t seen Steve beat up before. Pretty much all of Hawkins has, it’s a reoccurring event. But those times were different. It was because of his own idiocy or protecting someone. This was at the hands of someone that already caused him more pain than he should have gone through. He didn’t know how to admit that he got hit for no reason.

He heads back to the kitchen, tells them that Eddie’s coming over. They don’t say much, but have a knowing look in their eye. One that scares the hell out of him, but makes him feel seen at the same time. Steve could be himself in this house. Around these people. It wasn’t even his, and it felt more like home than he’s ever known.

“I never asked if you were ok,” Steve says as he sits down next to Julie. “Are you?”

Julie shrugs. “As ok as I can be I guess.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Did he hit you because of me?” Julie asks after a pause.

Steve would do anything to lie to her right now. To dart around the question and make up some excuse. Knowing her, she would see right through it. She didn’t need him lying to add to tonight. But would it be better for her to know the truth?

There’s a knock at the door before Steve can try to answer. He thinks it’s for the best. Enough has happened for one night.

He stands when Joyce opens the door. Almost getting pushed out of the way when Eddie sees Steve in the living room. They meet in a hug, Steve feeling more relieved that he thought he would.

“Those jackasses couldn’t have waited a few more days before they finally came home. They had to do it while you were still there.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah well, they never had the best timing.”

Eddie notices the cut on his lip when he pulls back from the hug. Eyes filling with anger. “I’m actually going to get arrested for murder this time.”

“Eds, it’s really not that bad.”

“Not that bad.” Eddie’s voice raises. “Not that bad, Steve. You have a fucking split lip. Your eye is puffy.”

Steve tries to calm Eddie down, still conscious of the people around them. Trying not to make it look too revealing. “It could be worse.”

He sees Joyce say something to the girls that gets them to leave and head down the hall. Leaving him and Eddie alone in the living room.

“How hard did he hit you? Can you hear me alright? What about your vision, nothing’s blurry. You can still see fine?” Eddie clocks when they leave, grabbing Steve’s head with both his hands, assessing the damage.

Steve tries to pull Eddie’s hands away, make this less of a big deal. “I can hear and see fine. He didn’t hit me hard enough to do anything. I’ve had worse, it’s the least concerning thing that’s happened in the last few hours.”

“Your father, a grown man, assaulted you. His son. And you think there are more concerning things that happened in the last few hours.” Eddie’s face falls. “Just because you’re an adult when he hit you doesn’t make it better.”

“I know that,” he admits. Starting to feel the weight of everything finally sink in. “I just don’t know how to process it all right now. Tonight’s been a lot and I just need a minute, a day, I don’t know. Something. I just can’t think about that right now.”

“Ok,” Eddie says softly. “Ok. Then we won’t talk about it anymore. When every you’re ready. Does it hurt though, do you need ice or anything? Last thing, I promise.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no. It’s ok. I’m ok right now.”

Eddie nods. Kissing Steve before pulling him into another hug.

Just when Steve gets his life together, it all falls apart again. Or at least feels like it. In just a few days, the pieces will be put back into place. His life will get back on schedule. His schedule. Where he can move into a house that he bought, with his own money. To a job that he got, by himself. And life that has nothing to do with his last name.

Even if the court date is a few months away, and he’ll have to see his parents again. But after that, he’ll never have to interact with them again. He will be permanently free.

Right now. He’s trying to hold it all together. Making his brain slow down to give himself a minute to breath. Before the crushing reality of all that just happened presses down on his chest. And they’ll take hold of his mind again. Just for a little while, then he’ll break free again.

Joyce insists they stay the night. Explaining how Julie is already set up in El’s room, and how the two of them can take the pull-out couch. Just like that, with no explanation needed. Or excuses. Maybe Steve could tell everyone about them soon.

It’s still early when everyone goes to bed. Just wanting the day to be over, even if they’re not tired. But the comfort of darkness lets Eddie scoot closer, hold Steve a little tighter. Make him feel put together even though he’s slowly starting to fall apart.

Tomorrow is a new day. With plenty of problems to be solved and conversations to be had. Telling the rest of the group to stay clear of his old house and change his contact information with a few people. Try to get the keys a few days earlier.

Tonight is meant for sleep. To float around and exist without anything pressing his mind. Wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms and feel comfort for a brief moment. Until his looks in the mirror again and see the healing cut on his lip, and the slight bruise on his cheek. Almost fall apart all over again until he pulls himself back together. Each time a little weaker than the last until he finally breaks.

It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. To bottle everything up for the sake of other. For the sake of himself. Steve really can’t process everything right now. It would sting more that it already does. So, it gets pushed away. Until he’s ready to face it again.

He only hopes that time will be sooner than most. So he doesn’t blow up at someone that’s undeserving. Saying something he can’t take back.

But right now, he doesn’t need to think about that. Right now he needs to sleep.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #julie lawson #joyce byers #jim hopper #long lost/secret sibling #i don't know which ways home fic #cw minor descriptions of violence #tw minor descriptions of violence #cw physical assault #tw physical assault

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welcometololaland · 1 year

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WIP WORKING WEEK PART 1: THE RING-IN (AGAIN) (not sure if this is 57 sentences exactly but here you go - TK, Carlos and Nancy go to a spin cycle class, and TK and Carlos assess the quality of the restrooms).

The spin cycle class is exactly as TK expects – sweaty, loud and full of middle aged women who are far better at riding a stationary bike than he is. On the upside, he gets to sneak looks at Carlos every thirty seconds and appreciate another perfect part of his husband’s physique: the way the muscles in his shoulders flex as he shifts the distribution of his weight, the tight swell of his ass in workout shorts, the way his skin looks golden in the dim lights, glittering with sweat.

On the downside, so does everybody else.

Carlos is so distracting that the instructor has trouble maintaining control over the class. Despite their spin bike prowess, many of the women seem to be gradually losing interest in the class as Carlos gets increasingly sweaty. At some point, the music gets turned up, as does the instructor’s mic, trying to redirect attention to the fact that they’re supposed to be changing their resistance every few minutes. On a quick glance, TK suspects a fair few people haven’t gone up a level for half the class.

TK isn’t typically the jealous type. In fact, he feels vindicated by the attention Carlos gets because he finds the man borderline irresistible, and being in love with such a gorgeous creature has made him do some pretty insane things. Even so, there’s a limit to how much appreciation he can endure before he feels the need to savagely stake his claim.

“Stop looking like you want to murder that poor woman in her sleep,” Nancy says through laboured breaths. They’re just about to get back out of the saddle, although TK has sort of lost which part of the class they’re up to.

“Her jaw is practically on the floor,” TK mutters. “Do you think she could pick it up one of these days?”

“You can’t seriously be jealous of Janice over there,” Nancy snorts. “Have you forgotten that your husband is completely obsessed with you? He bought you a pet lizard the other day.”

“Bearded dragon,” TK corrects. “And the fact that Carlos loves me isn’t going to stop me informing the entire class that he’s gay and he’s mine.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, blinking as the sweat from her brow appears to momentarily blind her. “You need to cool down,” she says drily. “Go outside and then come back in when you’re ready to play nicely with the other children.”

“What? And look like I suck?!” TK protests. “I’m not giving Janice the satisfaction.”

“You do kinda suck,” Nancy mutters, “also – and I say this in the nicest way possible – no one is looking at you.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” TK snipes as he stops pedalling and hops off the spin bike, plucking his water bottle from the holder like it’s personally offended him. “Also, you suck.”

“Don’t forget your towel!” Nancy snickers, and then wobbles dangerously on her bike as TK pulls it off with a flourish. He feels like a matador tempting a bull, because the instructor gives him a very dirty look.

TK has to admit, once he’s back in the cool, heavily air-conditioned hallway, he starts to feel a lot better. There’s something about getting sweaty in a room full of other sweaty people that grosses him out a bit and he’s admittedly not the best at being told what to do. Unless it’s at his job, but that’s because he respects his father and Tommy more than he respects most people. A hell of a lot more than he respects any spin cycle instructor, at least.

“Hey,” Carlos says, dropping down onto the bench seat next to him. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

TK takes one look at him and wishes he didn’t, because the concern written into Carlos’ expression combined with his sweat-slicked curls and the big, irresistible brown eyes renders him completely weak.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Just sick of how good you look. Also, I don’t like spin cycle.”

Carlos arches an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yes, you did,” TK mutters under his breath, but loses his train of thought completely as Carlos cups his cheek in one hand.

“You don’t like getting sweaty with me?” he asks, and although it sounds innocent, the wink that accompanies is anything but.

“Careful,” TK warns. “The restrooms are less than twenty feet away and I’m very frustrated.”

Carlos drops his hand and looks over his shoulder, before turning back to TK with a coy smile. “Think there’s anyone in them right now? The class is fully booked and it looks like the reception area is empty.”

TK stares, mouth watering. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

“Well,” Carlos replies mildly. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

“I’ll show you something else I can rub off,” TK smirks, before taking Carlos’ hand and tugging him towards the door.

#The Ring-In (Again)#The Ring-In #WIP #work in progress #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #911 lone star #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #WIP working week

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imaaa · 6 months

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1:20 a.m. is the time. the mattress in this rented room is too uncomfortable for my liking. these unfamiliar grey walls will take a while for me to get used to, considering i've been staying around white ones for too long. i have a corporate job to attend in about 9 hours; it'll be my fourth day. i should be sleeping. but i've made enough effort for sleep to arrive. the futility of the same made me give in to the urge of writing. i hope at 3, though, i am worn out enough to surrender myself to the luxury of sleeping.

a few years back, i would always make a point to my mother that one should not be consuming headache pills on a regular basis. but right now, the headache is too bad, the way it was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. maybe i have the capacity to bear it. but now i am not that 19-year-old anymore who would speak against consuming the painkiller. i tell myself i understand mom now and take a pill and go to sleep. the headache eases but the guilt widens. the ache was not unbearable, and the medicine was not essential.

yesterday, my friend and i were discussing why i am a good fit for a marketing role. at one point, she said, “you have a jolly personality, that is why.” i was surprised for a moment hearing that, not because i am not jolly, because i am. but because it struck me that my writings never portray me that way. and it matters so much to me what my writings speak about me, and according to me, all they speak about is synonyms of melancholy i carry. joy does not demand to be wrapped in words, while gloom gets spilled every time. i know it is incredibly irrational, but i would choose feeling sadness over joy if that is what makes me hold my laptop at odd hours and pushes me to write.

i am sorry, i do not know what life looks like when you are not a student anymore under the direct care of her parents. i keep on spending money, and i have spent too much in less than a week. i tell my parents that i cannot understand where i am spending so much and that i am frustrated. but they tell me it is no big deal and i should not be worrying. they give me all the reasonings as to why i should be spending money and not be a stupid miser that i can be at times. i cannot explain how much i love them and how so much ease lies in those 8 p.m. video calls. and ease lies in this friend of mine who makes me giggle so much by just being herself. i was afraid that a corporate career would not leave me with time to write, but the case might be opposite. my role at my job might not be too great, but i think it will make me feel dissatisfied enough that ultimately, i will be resorting to writing to find some sort of satisfaction.

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daedalusdavinci · 1 year

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MY Davekat Fic Recs

i read everythign in the davekat tag a couple years back. yeah. everything. the whole bitch. it was a couple of years ago, so that might date this post, but heres a bunch of fics that i thought were so good i put a little note on them in my bookmarks about how hard they went

>Dave: survive three years on this rock

by MadSeason

Growing up on a flying meteor is hard work. You know this from experience. TG: dude what is this piece of shit you just sent me CG: TO PUT IT IN YOUR HUMAN TERMS: CG: IT’S A FUCKING LOVE STORY, DAVE. Well, it's a bit more than that.

this is a meteor fic, and youve read any davekat fics, thats a summary in of itself. however, from what i remember, this particular meteor fic goes really hard bc it does such a good job of building dave and karkats relationships with the other meteor residents and it leans hard into dave and roses friendship which is so important to me, bc guys they are BEST friends and theyre just so ; ; its just important ok. also according to the note i left for myself on this fic it made me cry a lot so thats always good

catch me, keep me

by CurlicueCal (@curlicuecal on tumblr)

Dave drops by the twinkle vermin class transport-ship Calliope to visit Captain Crocker and her crew. He engages Jake for some repair work, bugs his brothers of the corporeal and non-corporeal varieties, and stops in to harass chat with Karkat. Absolutely no flirting ensues.

frankly everything curlicuecal writes goes hard as fuck, so write that one down. read everything. they never miss. they are SO good at handling side characters and dealing w the complexities of homestuck characters, never shying away from the things that make them miserable little assholes. their fics are always so fun + funny and this is a really good one

just two guys being dudes being moirails and smooching a little

by MisPronounce_and_MisAccent

DAVE: yeah id be down DAVE: just two guys being dudes being moirails and smooching a little im not opposed DAVE: if youre cool with that A few options flit across your mind. The first is picking up the couch cushion next to you and screaming into it for a solid minute. The next is just screaming, sans-pillow. The third is, of course, throwing in the towel and flinging yourself off the meteor, because it is abundantly fucking apparent that you possess an inherent incapability to maintain any simple, good relationship without getting your feelings in a bullshit fucking twist. You decide to do none of this.

if you are like me and you really really love fics where they blur the lines between romantic and platonic and flushed and pale, this is the one. this is the fic.

Car Accident Blues

by ode

Dave Strider is good at looking fly, but he sure isn't good at not getting run over!

fuck i remember this one actually. its really short but its SO fucking funny

midnight soliloquy

by apocalypticTaco

If you had the time, you could wax poetic about every inch of him. Well, it’s past midnight. You could spare a few minutes to wax. If someone asked you what was it specifically about Karkat that you fall head over heels over, you honestly could not tell. It's everything.

its short and sweet, really cute fluffpiece. i CANNOT remember this users tumblr un anymore but they were huge in the davekat fandom for a while and they have a really good grasp on dave and karkat as characters which makes all of their davekat fics hit hard. highly recommend checking out their whole page rlly

We've Got Time

by acedavestrider (@acedavestrider on tumblr i think)

He’s very pointedly trying not to smile, trying not to give you the satisfaction of knowing you made him smile, but his eyes completely give him away. They’re far too fond to give any sort of impression other than absolutely smitten, regardless of how hard he’s trying to seem annoyed, and the way he blinks at you - quickly like he’s trying to clear his vision, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or if he’s imagining you - is enough to make your heart swoop in your chest.

another REALLY cute sweet one. honestly i think this is one of my favorite davekat fics ever. acedavestrider writes some of the best davekat in general and you should 100% read all of their stuff, because it ALL goes this hard. ofc anyone w a un this good is bound to have a good grasp on the characters so like what more do you even need me to say

Fait Accompli(cation)

by IntelligentAirhead (@dragonomatopoeia on tumblr, but im p sure it was cowritten w someone else? dunno theirs)

In Which a Mutant and an Alien Meander Towards a Quadrant of Indeterminate Identity at a Glacial Pace While Examining the Internalized Toxicity Perpetuated by Their Respective Societies, and The Nature of Friendship is Determined to Be More Universal Than Originally Theorized [Banned In Alternia]

this IS the best davekat fanfiction. this is the one. ive read it multiple times and its good each time. im just going to copy my notes straight from ao3 on this one, i think theyre from a second reread some time after the first

"ok this does slap. this slaps super hard. its a meteorstuck fic wherein karkat and dave both have to question toxic ideas theyve internalized from their own planets and eventually fall in love and get together. no one is delegated to rosemary therapist, all of the charas are beautiful and just as important, and the characterization is so flawless it couldve been written by hussie himself. this TOTALLY holds up, holy shit

"#literally the most beautiful piece of prose known to man"

The Eurydice Suite, v2.0

by callmearcturus (@callmearcturus on tumblr)

Dream-sharing: a highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people's dreams, and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. Within this business, the Strider-Lalondes are known as the best there is — until Dirk Strider gets his fool-ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, the best and brightest dreamers in the world will have to form a team. Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the latest, greatest agent in the biz, and on the run through a dangerous tiered dream in a hostile mind... It's going to take a miracle to pull this one off.

ive read this one so many times and honestly its still really good. the writing style is fantastic and i have spent many a year trying to capture the same beautiful atmosphere arc does. its a really creative au with really cool ideas about classpects and the characterization in this fic is awesome

Crash Standing

by Asuka Kureru (@asukaskerian on tumblr)

It's been eight days since the end of Sburb and Davesprite is not coping especially well.

ive already listed my favorite davekat fic, but THIS is my favorite homestuck fic period of all time ever the end. this is the best one. this is the ONLY one, as far as im concerned. you dont want to know how many times ive reread this fic ok. i love davesprite/karkat way more than i love dave/karkat (bc you know me w my doomed characters) and the way this author handles the interpersonal relationships between not just karkat and ds but also like ds and all of the OTHER characters is SO. GOOD. davesprite and kanayas relationship in particular lives in my brain rent free at all fucking times oh my god they are so perfect. shes so perfect. i love kanaya so much in this. oh my god and JOHN. the senor strider thing is so fucking funny sldkjfnsdf just. AUGH. its such a good fic just trust me ok just trust me

there are probably more i could recommend but its been so long since i read them im just going to stick to these bc like. man. i do NOT remember some of the bookmarks ive got in there anymore. ask me again when i finally snap and reread homestuck

#davekat #my recs #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck fanfic

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ficreadingchallenge · 1 year

Text

Summer Fic Reading Bingo

This is a low key summer reading challenge specifically for fandom. All you have to do to participate is get a bingo card, read a fic, leave a comment, and mark that square off on your card! We hope this will encourage you to step outside your go-to fandom paths and find something new and amazing.

The challenge will run from June 21, 2023 to September 21, 2023.

Your friendly mods are @carcrash429 and @therealjambery. Now get reading!

FAQ below the cut.

Q: What's all this, then? A: This is a low key summer reading challenge specifically for fandom. All you have to do to participate is get a bingo card, read a fic, leave a comment, and mark that square off on your card!

Q: How do I sign up? A: Fill out this form!

Q: What are the dates of the challenge? A: This year the summer reading challenge starts on the summer solstice, June 21, 2023. You have until the fall equinox, September 21, 2023 to complete your bingo card.

Q: Who can participate? A: Anyone who reads fanfiction!

Q: Can I get a text-based bingo card instead of an image? A: Absolutely, please let us know you’d prefer that format when you sign up.

Q: Do I have to leave a comment to complete the square? A: Yes. I mean, we're not going to check up on you or anything, so it's the honor system. But let's give creators some love, shall we?

Q: Can I listen to podfic instead? A: Yup! The comment rule still applies, though.

Q: What if the thing I'm using to complete my square isn't on AO3? A: That's fine. You can reblog on Tumblr, leave a comment on a blog post, or otherwise let the creator know you enjoyed their story/art/podfic.

Q: What sort of things are on the bingo card? A: You can see our full list here.

Q: What if there is one of my triggers or something that squicks me on the list? A: Just let us know when you sign up and we'll make sure you get a card that doesn't have those things on it.

Q: What do you mean by [fill in the blank]? Does this fic count for that square? A: It's up to your interpretation - we wanted to leave things as broad as possible. If you're really stuck, send us an ask and we can talk about it!

Q: What do I win if I get a bingo? A: The priceless satisfaction of a job well done. Also, we might have something special for you at the end. Guess you'll have to participate to find out.

#summer fic reading challenge #sfrc 2023 #fandom event

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lesbian-empress-nero · 8 months

Note

Mementos.

God, Ryuji fucking hates Mementos.

Dark and dreary and full of evil things that formed in the collective unconscious of everyone. It’s oppressive and cold and Ryuji has to fight his memories along with Shadows.

At least his friends come with him, at least he and Makoto fight together, at least Ann makes sure they don’t run themselves into the ground, at least Joker keeps a cool head when dealing with powerful Shadows and hostage situations.

Ryuji has been the bargaining chip in way too many hostage situations.

Things... shift when Akechi comes with them. Now he’s fighting alongside someone he would rant about, someone he used to despise.

It’s awkward, sure, but Ryuji is determined not to let that affect how they fight.

So when he (rather unceremoniously) pushes Akechi out of the way of an attack, he thinks nothing of it. It keeps the darling Detective Prince out of the way of danger- that’s all that matters.

Protect. Attack. Dodge.

It’s a steady rhythm, one he’s good at. One he can follow. One he can keep up with.

He’s good at attacking. He’s good at protecting. He’s... decent at dodging. He can duck out of the way of physical attacks, at least. That has to count for something.

When Akechi catches his balance, he gives Ryuji a dirty look that goes completely ignored. Ryuji is too busy blasting the Shadow to smithereens with Captain Kidd.

He knocks one down, gets a chance for a follow-up attack. He passes the opportunity to the guy he just shoved.

Akechi’s hand smacks against his, and Ryuji notices the way he almost winces. If he feels a pang of guilt for accidentally hurting a teammate, no one has to know.

Akechi summons Loki, finishes the job Ryuji started, smiles in satisfaction.

They move on, further and deeper into the place Ryuji fucking hates.

As the rest of the team moves towards the escalator down, Akechi turns to Ryuji.

“Don’t fucking push me like that again, Skull.”

Ryuji falters, hearing the venom and malice in Akechi’s voice. He turns around, trying to find some clue on Akechi’s face as to why he seems so pissed.

“Dude, I was just tryin’ to help. I took the blow for you, didn’t I? You coulda, I dunno, told me in a nicer way that you didn’t want me to do that. No need to get hostile,” he says, hiding his hurt.

His worth as a Phantom Thief hinges on how helpful he is to the team. If he can’t save his own teammates, how can he be expected to save people by changing their hearts?

He couldn’t save Shiho, he couldn’t stop her from jumping. He couldn’t save Mishima and the volleyball team, he couldn’t save them from being beaten black and blue. He couldn’t save his mom, couldn’t stop his dad from slamming her head against the wall and screaming at both of them-

“Skull? Oh my god, do you do this every time someone says something you don’t like?”

Ryuji looked up from the floor, head swimming. He was going to be sick. This place was bringing his worst memories to the surface, forcing him to remember all of the terrible things he had endured.

“...This place is going to make me throw up,” is all he says before turning on his heel and stumbling down the escalator.

He has barely enough time to warn the others about how he feels before he’s careening forward, world going darker than Mementos’s bottom level.

i love ryuji having a sort of "survivors guilt." he couldnt save people before so he deticates everything to saving his friends now. he probably feels like akechi is being an asshole to him trying to stop him from putting himself in harms way to save his friends but he really does care about him. he doesnt want him to get hurt because of other people but ryuji feels like he will only get worth from that.

#literally hb!nero's story #shackle-foes #nero answers #ryugoro

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thegodthief · 6 months

Text

An Occasional Lurker™ asked...

Which hobby would you give a try if money, materials and space were handled?

I have to pick ONE?? And does it have to be a hobby I haven't yet stuck a finger in? If we're discussing something I haven't yet tried: Blacksmithing. Which sounds more like a job than a hobby, but in the (lack of) constraints that you have given, all the blocks that keep me from even being a helper to an established blacksmith is out of the way.

Blacksmithing would tick off a lot of personally satisfying activities in one category, while also giving the option of never being overly repetitive. How can a hobby that is mostly comprised of swinging a hammer on a hot piece of metal repeatedly not repetitive? I know enough about blacksmithing to know that the art of swinging that hammer is NOT just swinging the hammer.

Where to strike. How hard to strike. How to set up a particular strike three hits back. Even if it's a set of identical knives, no one knife is going to be hammered out identical to any other.

There's the pure physical aspect of it, but there's also the art of it. There's the satisfaction of taking something useless (scraps and/or raw ingots) and making something useful out of it, even if that useful thing is only good for looking at.

But if it's a hobby that I have given a try to before, then weaving. Though any loom the size of a room is more likely to eat me instead and I will never be heard from again. Bystanders will look at me with despair, saying that I have been enchanted by the loom and forced to weave until I waste away.

Nothing of the sort. I have always held threads in my hands, and I will admit that not having the time to get back to it has been detrimental to my health.

What food or snack would you prefer on a lazy afternoon?

Ooo... Trick Question™! (First I need to remember what lazy afternoons feel like.) Can't go wrong with a bowl of baby carrots. With hot sauce. And cottage cheese dusted with season salt.

Popcorn is always a favorite, but only if I'm doing something that can exist around butter. So I won't be eating popcorn if I'm going through some books.

You know what's good? A sandwich with sliced roast beef or turkey breast, colby jack cheese, a right thick layer of spinach leaves, on wheat bread that has just enough mayo to keep the seasoning in place.

But ya know... some thin sliced ham and provolone cheese rollups are good as well. If I have to choose between prosciutto and thin ham, I'll take whichever is less salty. Besides, I'm too busy putting the prosciutto on the roast beef sandwich.

I'm hungry, now, dammit.

Reader's choice, what topic could you happily talk about at length?

Keri.exe is taking too long to respond. Close or wait?

Uh...

WHICH ONE?!

My head is a Trivial Pursuit wheel of chance. I know a little about a lot of things, and I know enough to pretend I can connect the dots, and if the topic is a work of fiction, I will spin fanon tales on the spot about certain characters and how they interact in AUs.

One thing I have learned the hard way, is that there is a big difference between typing a few dozen thousand words and having a sit with a friend and talking their ears off even if the recipient of both actions is the same person.

When I go on a rant in DMs, my first message is "Wall of Words in progress, please come back later.", because I know I am going to plow so many words that Merriam-Webster should give me a commission for selling a dictionary to the recipient. But not every topic that is suited for DMs is suited for public posting nor is suited for a phone call nor is suited for a chat at a café.

What topic that I could happily talk about at length is completely dependent on who is the audience and how much time am I expected to fill (or meet).

I'm treating this question in bad faith, and I apologize, but as the answer is public I find myself wary of my phrasing. There is a terrible tendency on the Internet to treat everyone that is posting about anything is an Expert™ in the topic discussed. And many of the topics that I would gladly indulge in private DMs or a public meeting place are topics that I will NOT even comment on in a public post.

And that's bad.

And that's my problem.

And that's something I need to break myself of.

After all, someone told me recently that there is neither comfort nor safety in cowardice, and yes, I am a coward. I am afraid of being targeted, of being hurt, of saying something that will offend the people I look up to and they abandon me for it.

And funny how little things become the lock-pin that holds larger things in place.

I also think that I don't post like I used to because that same Internet tendency that views anyone with an opinion as an Expert™ also makes it hard to hold conversations about a topic. Posts become hills to die on and fortifications to defend. Having an opinion on the Internet is an act of war.

Or so I perceive the topic of topics on the Internet.

Perhaps my perception is incorrect.

Perhaps I'm typing furiously against clouds.

Or perhaps I'm going on at length about nothing.

Who knows.

#Keri throws a lot of words against the wall.#Some of them might make sense.#Read at your own risk.

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oxtofmydcpth · 2 months

Text

Last Words - Floyd x Xiu

Of all the people Xiu never anticipated visiting her cell, Floyd may very well have made the top of that list. Setting down her book cautiously, she eyed her former employer. "Are you here to talk morals to me? If so, I advise you save your breath."

There were a number of things Floyd had pre-planned to say to Xiu when he arrived at the cells, so many questioned he'd run through scripted in his head, but seeing her sat there so...unphased, perhaps, made his blood boil. "I'm not sure you're capable of morals," he said with a huff, arms folding tightly across his chest. "Why'd you do it?"

Xiu didn't bother to hide her eye roll as she regarded the man. "Would my motives matter? Make any sort of difference? What is it you would like to hear? Some bleeding heart story about how it was a misguided attempt at mercy? Or perhaps that it was the demons that told me to do it?"

"Because it happened in my building, in my business," Floyd stepped forwards, teeth gritting as he spoke, an attempt being made to keep his temper, knowing it wouldn't do any good, or that she would be receptive to it anyway. "I don't care what the explanation is: mercy, demons, just a way to pass the time, but you owe me an explanation, at the very least."

A cold, harsh laugh escaped her lips. "I don't owe you anything Blackward. And the fact you think as such inclines me to leave you brewing away at the whys and what ifs. That I will die and you won't know the explanation at all gives me quite the satisfaction."

The laugh caused the first slip in Floyd's neutral expression, the twitch at the edge of his lips the first tell that he was irritated, but she more than likely knew that. "Was I really so terrible to you? After giving you a job, after letting you into my home and in on my family legacy? After trusting you?" He bit his lower lip, turning for a moment, "that's the part that stings y'know? Not what you did, but the breaking of my trust."

Xiu let out a sigh, expression turning more neutral. "You barely know me, Blackward. While I admire you're work ethic and earnestness, trusting me, a stranger, was not a wise choice. For obvious reasons." Still, a part of her did feel some guilt for the hint of a defeated look Floyd held. "No," she eventually admitted. "There was never a time when I thought you terrible to me. Quite the opposite, and for that I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you. It was never anything personal, I can promise you that much. I....have been doing this long before I met you."

At least her words seemed genuine, Floyd could appreciate and respect that if nothing else, in fact, even her apology seemed genuine. With all things considered, he doubted she had the capacity to do that. "I don't like it," a pause, "but I accept your apology." A long time? He dare not think how long that might be, but it did pique more curiosity in him, and he pulled up a chair, taking a seat in front of her cell. "I wish you'd said something. I could learn a lot about hiding motivations so expertly, as you did. I'm almost jealous, but definitely impressed. I like to think I'm quite perceptive, but you had me fooled."

A quiet laugh escaped her, this one softer, warmer than the last. "You always did wear your emotions on your sleeve. The key is to play the role people expect of you. I've already done that all my life, so being the sweet, bubbly nurse was just one more mask to wear."

"I thought I had that mastered," Floyd huffed, "but I guess I thought I was playing the role well enough that I didn't notice the mask slipping." No wonder people were growing so wary of him lately, so many people coming up to him and asking about his distaste for the mayor and plans to take over. He'd never announced any of that. "And what do you think people expect of me? What role should I be playing?"

Xiu gave a shrug. "Does it matter what role you should play now? It would raise more attention if you started acting different. You're too well known in this town Floyd, though that's not necessarily a bad thing." She dropped her gaze. "I got away with what I did for so long because I went unnoticed. I blended into the background and I was okay with that."

Floyd clicked his tongue in thought, taking careful consideration of her words, not like she was going anywhere and needed him to speed things up. You're too well known. It would raise more attention if you started acting differen. Both valid points, both things he hadn't completely considered. A shift in his tone, or his alleged goals, or his attitude as a whole towards town and the mayor and the other founding families would cause a lot of suspicion. So maybe Xiu had the right idea of going unnoticed, what if he fell into the background a little more, or would that be seen as giving up? "It appears I have a lot of things to consider going forwards." One being Xiu's replacement. He stood finally, taking the few steps he needed to until he was against the bars, and he extended his hand through them to her. "I suppose this is it for us?"

She lifted a brow, surprised at Floyd moving closer and offering his hand. Getting up from her cot, she also stepped forward and firmly grasped his hand. "You were a good employer, Floyd. Do not put what I did on your shoulders."

"I always try to do the best by the people I employ, even if they end up crazy, and I won't. I know it wasn't my fault.," he chuckled. Maybe he could have seen the signs if he'd been looking for them, but everything was done now. He just needed to deal with the fall out and the clear up, the regaining of trust. "You've been so honest with me today, and I appreciate that. But I do have one final question before I go," his grip shifted up her arm a little more, tightening just above the wrist and pulling her in close. His following words were whispered, but they had bite to them. "Is grandma's decline your fault too?"

Xiu felt a flash of fear as Floyd pulled her closer, his tone shifting. Her eyes searched his expression, debating on how to answer. "Yes," she finally settled on, her own tone normal.

Floyd's response was another short burst of laughter, nervous, or manic (?), he wasn't completely sure. "If you weren't already dead, for that, I'd kill you myself." He gave one final, rough squeeze of her arm before letting her go, stepping away from the bars, turning, straightening the jacket of his suit and adjusting the collar on his shirt. Professional. "I hope you got everything you wanted to out of this. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you." And with that he left.

@detectivegoldstein

#Floyd // Xiu

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showfallmediacameracrew · 1 year

Text

[This post was made using Showfall Media Text-To-Speech. If you believe there's been an error and would like to end Showfall Media Text-To-Speech, please say 'End transcript'. ]

[Nonverbal input Registered as: fabric and upholstery shifting with weight, a barely perceptible huff of satisfaction as the conversation begins to be heard.]

J: ...Just give me a second Ruth, normal seats are annoyingly difficult for me to sit in with my tail in the way. I’ll put my phone right there, to make it more comfortable for me, apologies if my lounging might make it seem as though I’m not taking this seriously.

R: No, no, you’re totally fine. Ah. I can understand why that would be an issue. Erm. So.

[Nonverbal input Registered as: Clearing throat from unregistered user]

R: What are you doing out of the facility? I know you said you were looking for some sort of restaurant, but I’d imagine there’s food inside the facility too?

J: Yeah, but it’s mall food, and mall food is shit. Besides, not exactly good for a date night to eat where you live and work, and I figured food prepared at a place that knows what it's fucking doing might taste better.

R: Wai- date?? With who?

[Altered Pitch Registered: quieter but not a whisper.]

R: I didn’t know demons had, like. Romance. Huh.

J: Yeah... you're going to need to like, stop believing demons are emotionless or whatever. You're aware we’re the same level of sentient beings right? Like we do a lot of the same stuff humans do, we’re just different and cooler.

[Nonverbal input Registered: user huffs, unclear if meant to be a laugh or a sigh of botherment]

J: He’s not a demon though, he’s a normal human, kinda eccentric, but he’s my Little Bird.

[Nonverbal input Registered: pen scratching on paper.]

R: Fascinating--wait, that’s another thing, does he work within Showfall? And what would you say is, like, the demon to human ratio in there?

J: He used to work for Showfall, now I think he’s living in the walls or somewhere else, but maybe he’ll wanna live in the room I commandeered for myself later. Most of the people working there are human though. There are other demons of course, but not as many as you probably were thinking.

[Nonverbal input registered: shifting fabric and a dull thump from what could be a tail as he snorts]

J: Most of them aren’t powerful at all, like Chase, just lower demons who do the jobs they're given and lack any significant powers. Isn’t that right, G’lopp? Just a weak slime demon who gets stuck to the floor because your suit was the only thing really sticky about you.

[Nonverbal input registered: Chair scraping against wood and a startled noise]

C: … What??

R: You own a suit?

C: No??

J: It was more a costume then anything, acting and stuff. His memory has never really been the best, though that could be said for a lot of the lower demons. The suit was just a one time thing before he was put in the recent job he had before... getting here.

C: … Yeah. Uh. Something like that.

R: The demons are actors??

J: Some of them! Most are humans. The demons mostly help with the special effects if they have the power for that.

[Altered Pitch Registered: whispered]

R: Hah! I suspected that…

[Nonverbal input registered: pen scratching again, a closer quiet rumble of a chuckle from right beside the mic speaker from the phone's user.]

R: Uhhh, okay, what’s with the whole…? Amphibious features thing?

J: Do you know what’s the most special feature about an Axolotl, Ruth? They can heal themselves, they can lose limbs and grow them back. They can do this with even their own hearts and brains. Why wouldn’t someone, already fairly powerful, want an ability like that? It has its drawbacks, having to be submerged in water for a certain amount of time and being sure I’m never fully dry, but it’s cool. It’s fine. It’s useful for someone with my job to be able to heal from potential grievous injuries.

[Time between last spoken words: 10 seconds broken by a loud sigh directly against the speaker mic]

J: It was...you could say, an experiment done by a... friend. We’d gotten into a rather bad fight against some powerful enemies, and the friend had recently... gained powers that allowed the alterations, of a sort. It’s a little fuzzy for me personally, I’m sure you understand, I wasn’t really awake for the decision.

R: … No. No yeah I understand. That… You don’t seem particularly happy about it?

J: Oh I am. Axolotls are my favorite animals! It’s mostly the wings that I’m not a fan of. I can understand how you hadn't noticed.

[Nonverbal input registered: a dull thump and grunt as the registered user shifts fabric, and something light brushes across the speaker as it flopped down to the floor, shifting starting up again as registered user continues back in original position.]

J: They don’t work, they were broken during the fight. I... had a raven companion, who would become part of me and lend me his wings. He died when the wings were broken, and without his presence, they can’t be used. This sort of injury, from the being that did it, can’t be healed by normal animal means.

R: That’s… I’m sorry about your bird. I kind of figured this was just your demon appearance, I didn’t realize it had, like. A whole backstory for all of it, I guess?

J: Heh, that’s a good word for it, yes. I did say I was a vampire first. The horns and everything else came later, I did grow more sharp teeth from the axolotl stuff, I think that amused Angus. He was uh, a werewolf friend I had at the time. He’s the one who did the Axolotl thing.

[Time between last spoken words: 6 seconds, then an amused snort detected to be feigning wistfulness upon internal analysis.]

J: The good news about it though is I sometimes see my raven's ghost. A wonderful perk of assuming the position of the God of the Dead after killing the old one.

R: … God. Like. Like an actual God.

J: Yes. Angus only was able to save me because he took control over the domain of the God of Animals a few weeks before. You didn’t think I was calling myself a demon king because I’m a vampire, did you? I’m a demon, what humans would probably call a monster even, and I happen to be the ruler over the realm of the dead.

R: … Wow. Wait, I… am I supposed to like, uh, address you as your majesty or something??

C: No, you don’t have to. It’s. Uh. Optional.

J: You're also not dead yet, so no. He’s right. The old gods were old enough to no longer remember their own names, and now they’re dead, along with the whole ‘your majesty’ deference bullshit thing. They didn’t even do their jobs anymore at the point we killed them, it was a whole issue, that’s why me and my friends fought them. Now death is treated like the next stage in life, like it should be. I’m perfectly content being known as the Demon King.

R: Oh, shit, are you saying humans become demons when they die, or like-?

J: I’m saying your soul goes to the afterlife, where I will rule when I’m fully old enough to assume the title. For now, I can summon and talk to ghosts sometimes, but mostly I’m just hanging out. Seeing the life my friend Dixie thrives in. She’s the goddess of life, she’s technically still human probably. I assume she’s somewhere in a flower field at this point getting excited about bee pollination.

C: I can see why she would be. Absolutely, uh, invigorating stuff.

R: Wait, how old even are you?

[Nonverbal input registered: A brief laugh after Chase spoke, weight shifting as fabric rustles. The possible tail thumping a few more times as registered user hummed thoughtfully]

J: Oh, I’m 25. This happened around when we all were 12 or so, maybe a bit older for a few of us. I’ve got a few years until I need to actually go back to the afterlife and properly train to care for the souls.

[Time between last spoken words: 4 seconds]

R: Is that like when your contract ends, or…

J: Contracts aren’t a thing, no one wants your soul. There’s no currency or buying shit when you're dead, and demons don’t really...claim lives I guess? Like they can say they have your soul but everyones going to my domain regardless. I’m like the Devil, I guess, if we want to choose a religion to fuck with. Except hell is also Heaven and there's ghosts and monsters and stuff just... existing. That, that’s most of what I learned in the little bit of training I got before working with Showfall. There's... probably more.

[Nonverbal input registered: Slight shifting of fabric again, moment of contemplated silence]

J: That isn't when anything ends really though, just when I’m old enough to assume responsibility and fully come into my title, I suppose.

R: Okay, yeah, that makes sense, uhm. And- oh, I forgot to ask this one- what’s your job, at Showfall, exactly?

J: I’m a Director of Photography, a DP. I work on a camera crew, basically. Done that for five years. It’s fun, I tell people what to do, it’s sort of my own version of learning to lead and direct people to do what I want them to do.

R: Huh. And what were you doing before then…?

J: Jumped into the afterlife after one of my friends literally turned into the moon. It took awhile to kill what literally amounted to a concept instead of a physical person. So, I guess she isn’t technically the moon. That was... that took some years. And I had to leave once everything had settled to establish my connection to the afterlife before it probably imploded or something.

[Time between last spoken words: 6 seconds]

R: … Wow. You’ve had, uh, quite the eventful life, huh?

J: Yeah, which is why it’d be nice to go to a normal restaurant, and have dinner with my boyfriend. If you could give me some names of ones you know around here. You can ask me any other questions you have of course, but this seemed like a good time to ask again.

Altered Pitch, subverbal input only heard from closeby proximity: barely a mutter]

J: Save draft, end transcript now before this gets-

[Transcript has ended. Thank you for using Showfall Media Text-To-Speech! Saving to Draft Downloads... ]

#showfall ask blog #showfall media #showfall camera operator #ask blog #showfall media ask blog #showfall jasprix #encoreverse blog #this conversation lasted #for hours #until the sun was close to setting and I had to make excuses #to finally leave #Ugh

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