#rolling out of my holiday coma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosewaterandivy · 5 months

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i. incandescent glow

summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?

pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays

w.c.: 8.2k

a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.

Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”

And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.

He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.

So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.

“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”

Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.

Eddie.

With a fiancée?

“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.

Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.

Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.

“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.

“It’s brown.”

“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”

Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.

But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.

The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.

He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.

“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”

He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”

“Have you met her? What’s she like?”

“I don’t—”

“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”

“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”

She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”

“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”

“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”

“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”

“Good, still in the coma.”

Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.

“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”

An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”

It’s a feeling he knows well.

You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.

“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”

He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”

“She’s freaking out.”

“What?”

He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”

Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”

“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.

Earlier that day

Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.

Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.

Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.

Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.

“Call an ambulance!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”

Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.

Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.

Somehow, this would be your fault.

Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.

Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.

They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.

Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.

“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”

“You didn’t go back with him?”

“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”

He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.

“That’s shitty.”

He hums his agreement.

“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”

“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”

“Oh, okay.”

He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.

“You’re the fiancée, right?”

“Wh–”

“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”

Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.

But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.

A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.

“I don’t–”

The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.

The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”

Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.

“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”

“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”

“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”

Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”

“No? Me neither.”

There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”

A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.

“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”

“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”

You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.

Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”

“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”

Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.

“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”

Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.

It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”

“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”

He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”

Damn.

“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.

Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”

“Great, thank you!”

Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.

Steve Harrington.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.

“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.

Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.

A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.

You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.

“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”

Well, shit.

It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.

“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”

Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.

“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’ll tell them, I just—”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”

You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.

He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.

And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.

Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.

“You fucking idiot.”

That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:

“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.

Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”

Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”

“So, that’s her?”

You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.

At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.

“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Cereal?”

She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”

Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.

“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”

“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”

She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”

“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”

Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”

“You could ask her.”

She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”

He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.

If that’s what the case may be.

As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.

Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”

With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.

All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”

A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.

“Leaving so soon?”

And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.

“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”

“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.

Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.

Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”

Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”

Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.

He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.

“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.

Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.

“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.

“Oh, thank you.”

He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”

You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”

Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.

“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”

Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.

“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”

“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.

“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.

“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.

“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”

You stare back at him blankly.

“Or he’ll kill ya.”

“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.

Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.

“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”

He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.

But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”

When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.

“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”

Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”

“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”

You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”

“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”

“Mom, I already offered—”

You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”

Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.

But maybe it’s too perfect.

Now there’s some food for thought.

A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”

Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.

The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.

“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.

“Lord hear our prayer.”

Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.

“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”

Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”

“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”

“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”

Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”

And the congregants say, “Amen.”

“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”

Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”

“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”

“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”

“Nope.”

“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”

“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”

“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”

“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.

“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.

Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”

“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.

“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”

“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.

“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”

Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.

And the congregation says, “Amen.”

Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.

“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.

“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”

Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.

“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”

“And I can’t even defend myself?”

“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”

“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”

Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.

“Yeah,” Hop agrees.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.

Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”

Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”

Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:

“No swearing.”

Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”

The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.

The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.

It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.

“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”

The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.

The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.

For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.

Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”

“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”

Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.

You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.

Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.

“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.

You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #fic: tbsg #Spotify

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bailey-dreamfoot · 9 months

Text

Bowser and Luigi Incorrect Quotes Because Why Not Honestly

Luigi, handing a balloon to Bowser: I have no soul. Have a good day!

Bowser, walking off: I don't have one either.

Luigi: Bowser, I need some advice.

Bowser: You need advice from ME?

Luigi: Yeah, frightening, isn't it?

Luigi: I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Bowser: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

Luigi: You don’t have to wear…

Bowser: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

Bowser: I made tea.

Luigi: I don't want tea.

Bowser: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea.

Luigi: Then why did you tell me?

Bowser: It's a conversation starter.

Luigi: It's a horrible conversation starter.

Bowser: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

Luigi: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Bowser: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

Bowser: Luigi and I are no longer dating.

Luigi: Bowser, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

Luigi: *is visibly upset*

Bowser: Luigi, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out candyland wasn't an actual country.

Luigi: You don't know anything about me!

Bowser: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

Bowser: You don't know anything about me!

Luigi: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

Bowser: A decision had to be made.

Luigi: And you fucked it up!

Luigi: You call yourself my soulmate, but where were you when my meme only had four likes?

Bowser: Making four accounts.

Luigi, tearing up: Really...?

Bowser: It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

Luigi: Not by the law!

Luigi: Bowser is not allowed to decide which one of us is the chosen one.

Luigi: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Bowser: I wrote you a poem.

Luigi, already crying: You did?

Bowser: Love makes people do stupid things.

Luigi: I love everything!

Bowser: That explains a lot.

Luigi: Hey.

Bowser: Hey?

Luigi: I can't sleep. :/

Bowser: I can. Goodnight.

Luigi: Bowser, you need to react when people cry!

Bowser: I did. I rolled my eyes.

Bowser, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY!

Luigi, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

Bowser: You're violent.

Luigi: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Bowser: Do you have a self-care routine?

Luigi: "Keep going bitch" said to myself in different accents.

Luigi: They don’t make them like me no more. I’m the last of my kind.

Bowser: Thank god.

Luigi: So I was just having a conversation with Bowser about Star Wars; particularly, about the choice of architecture. The amount of people who die from falling down bottomless pits is TOO DAMN HIGH! Like, who designs architecture like this? Catwalks with no guard rails whatsoever, just zigging and zagging through enormous voids. Giant holes to nowhere!

Bowser: It's by design. It's a cleaner look, for a more elegant time.

Luigi: Like... who the fuck put this hole here???? And why????

Bowser: Exhaust?

Luigi: Darth Maul falls down a hole, Palpatine falls down a hole, Solo falls down a hole, everyone falls down a hole! Star Wars universe needs OSHA.

Bowser: Luke falls down a hole, Boba Fett falls down a hole…

Luigi: Yes, yes, I forgot about those! R2-D2 falls down a hole in the Millenium Falcon after he fixes the hyperdrive.

Bowser: We're onto something here!

Luigi: Obi-Wan almost falls down a hole.

Bowser: C-3PO falls off the barge into the sand. Pretty close to falling down a hole.

Luigi: His lightsaber does though.

Bowser: *thinks hard about what other Star Wars Characters fall down holes*

Luigi: What if the hole is symbolic? The hole represents the dark side.

Bowser: Nah, doesn't work. Luke chooses to fall down the hole instead of joining Vader/The Dark Side.

Luigi: Fair point.

(^ ive litterally never seen that before in my life, so i thought it was funny. but like- imagine they're talking ab Bowser's Castle design.)

Bowser: If by any chance Luigi should attack, just start calmly talking about anything.

Luigi: Bowser told me that brown is just navy orange, and I have never been more disappointed with something I agree with.

Bowser: Whether or not I pay income taxes is none of the government's business.

Luigi: No, well, actually, it is.

Bowser: You don't know my name or what I look like, good luck finding me.

Bowser, making a cup of tea: Yeah, get into that leaf juice, you sexy, sexy bee sauce.

Luigi: Hey, do you take constructive criticism?

Bowser: I absolutely fucking do not.

Bowser: What is this!?

Luigi: That’s the weight of guilt. Give in to the nice side. Help those unfortunate, and make the guilt go away, my friend.

Bowser: Ow! Make it stop!

Luigi: Surrender to your kindness, Bowser. It’s nice to be nice.

Bowser: Your guilt is strong, my friend. But it is no match for the power of my selfishness!

Bowser: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Luigi: Killed without hesitation.

Bowser: Gatekeep, girlboss, and what's the other one again?

Luigi: There isn't another one. You're crazy.

Luigi: How many children do you have?

Bowser: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

Luigi: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Bowser: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Luigi: ...

Luigi: You mean ring bearER, right?

Bowser: ...

Luigi: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

#i am mentally ill #bailey’s ramblings #luigi x bowser #bowuigi #bowugi #luigi #bowser

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crinkled-emotions · 4 months

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Day 26: Food coma naps

Requested! The initial prompt just requested Hangman, a food coma and either Bob or Rooster :)

Ship: Hangster

(I swear I'm going to write something else after this lmao)

“Guys, I really think we outdid ourselves this year. We’re gonna be eating leftovers for the next month.”

“Don’t worry about the leftovers; I don’t think my belt is ever going to do up again.”

Everyone laughed, beginning the clean up from Christmas lunch. They’d finished eating about half an hour ago and just remained at the table, talking and drinking. Amelia was with her father for the holidays so Penny and Maverick had offered to host the Daggers in attempt to distract themselves. Instead of Penny making all of the dishes, everyone had contributed and they’d mostly used paper plates and plastic cutlery so there wasn’t a ton of dishes or clean up to be done.

Hangman stretched in his seat, his hand finding Rooster’s back who was looking like he regretted that last serving of pie. To be fair, everyone was regretting their last slice of pie.

“C’mon, let’s clean up,” Coyote said. The Daggers stood and began bagging up the rubbish, waving off Penny and Maverick when they went to help.

“You hosted us; the least we can do is clean up a little,” Fanboy smiled. Whilst the others worked on getting things fixed up, Rooster and Hangman went into the kitchen to get through the minimal dishes needed to be done. Rooster rolled up his sleeves, preparing to wash whilst Hangman located a dry dishtowel. As Rooster washed Hangman methodically dried and stacked the dishes on the counter so Penny could put them away in their correct spot, talking quietly between themselves until Hangman stopped responding.

Rooster glanced over his shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned against the counter, yawning quietly.

“Don’t you start,” Rooster groaned. Hangman grinned.

“Start what?”

“If you start yawning I’m gonna start yawning.”

“Oh c’mon, a little nap never hurt anyone.”

Hangman reached out, pulling Rooster toward him by the waist. Rooster huffed as he stepped into Hangman’s arms but he was smiling.

“A little nap? We both know it’s not little.”

The pair burst out laughing, Rooster pressing a kiss to Hangman’s temple before going back to the dishes.

“C’mon, let’s finish these and then you can nap.”

The others had already spread out across Penny and Maverick’s living area, leaving a loveseat for the two aviators to share. Rooster flopped down first but Hangman didn’t hesitate to sit on his lap which earned groans from around the room.

“Can you two not be in love for once?” Fanboy complained, Bob nodding.

“We just ate. Don’t make me nauseous.”

“Are you gonna rock him to sleep?” Phoenix snickered, to which Rooster shrugged but Hangman very quickly shook his head.

“As Bob said; we just ate. I wouldn’t if I were him.”

That being said, he did scoot to rest his head on Rooster’s shoulder. Rooster sucked in a breath, grasping his boyfriend’s arm.

“Jake, can you not-“

“-what are we watching?” Penny interrupted as Fanboy flicked through Netflix, trying to find a Christmas movie. He glanced over.

“How do you feel about the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas movie?”

“We all know we’re gonna be asleep in five minutes anyway, might as well pass out to a great soundtrack,” Payback said. Bob glanced at Phoenix beside him, an amused smile crossing his features. She was already half asleep despite teasing Hangman for his food-coma-induced potential nap.

“You good?”

“Shut up.”

She lifted his arm to use his chest as a pillow and by the time the movie was starting she was asleep. Bob ran a hand over her back, moving in slow circles whilst the others all settled into the movie.

About halfway through the movie Rooster stirred, grimacing when he realised he couldn’t feel his legs. His arm was still across Jake’s waist, gently circling his hip. It appeared the others had also flaked, strewn across the living room and napping off their food comas. Rooster sighed, his hand reaching up to work his fingers through Hangman’s hair. Jake groaned, turning his face back toward the crook of Bradley’s neck and huffing at him.

“I was finally asleep, asshole,” he muttered. Rooster’s lips twitched upward in amusement as he kept his hand in Jake’s hair, scratching at the back of his neck. It made Hangman shiver, eyes falling closed again but Rooster poked him in the ribs.

“Don’t go back to sleep; c’mon, let’s go home, our bed is much more comfortable.”

“Pretty comfy here, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Jake replied. He shifted, pulling his arm out from where it had previously been tucked behind Rooster’s back for support. He dropped a kiss to Rooster’s forehead, standing and holding his hand out to him.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

Rooster grabbed his keys and wallet, then as an afterthought shoved them in his pocket to grab Hangman’s hand.

“C’mon, babe. If you fall asleep in the car just know I’m leaving you there.”

“You always say the most romantic things, Roos.”

The pair made a beeline for their bed, not even bothering to get under the covers before they flopped on top of it. Rooster pulled himself up to the pillows but Hangman stayed by his stomach, lifting Rooster’s shirt to blow a raspberry before he slung an arm over him. Rooster glanced down at him, an amused smile crossing his face.

“Is it comfortable down there?”

“It’ll do.”

“You’re gonna put your neck out; c’mere.”

Rooster put his hands under Hangman’s arms, suggesting he scoot up. Hangman groaned.

“You’re killing me.”

“Me? I think it might have been that last slice of pie.”

“It’s always the last slice of pie,” Jake yawned. He shifted up, letting Bradley press a kiss to his forehead before they went quiet. Rooster drifted back off to sleep but Jake stayed up a little longer, the earlier nap fixing the worst of the food coma. He glanced up at Rooster, already snoring his ass off, and he snorted.

“Happy holidays, B.”

#Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Callsign: Hangman #Hangster #G's Dec 2023 Prompts!

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

Text

It's the Easter Dragon, Eddie Munson Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Just a big scary metalhead doing cute Easter-y things with Evil Woman and her family, nothing to see here. Contains: Easter fluff + She's Not A Regular Mom; She's A Cool Mom. Words: 2.7k-ish

"Nobody look, eyes closed, these bags do not contain things that are going in Easter baskets!"

You laugh and get up to close the door behind your mother, who's struggling to hold onto her top secret bags as she kicks off her shoes. Eddie watches curiously from the kitchen table.

"Look at you, pretending to be helpful so you can sneak a peek!" she jokes, turning to shield her loot from you.

"Hey lady, you pay the electric bill, if you want me to leave this open, I will," you threaten with the door still open a crack.

"Hello, Eddie, my favorite child, the only one who never talks back to me," your mother greets him, ignoring you. You close the door with a roll of your eyes.

"Hi," he laughs. "Can I help?"

"Nope, you stay your butt right there, I'm outta here."

Finally free of her shoes and done taunting the teenagers, she proceeds to her bedroom, where the candy will be stashed until Easter.

You return to the table, which is covered with open books and scribbled notes and an unreasonable amount of homework.

"Easter baskets?" Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut up," you say without looking at him, a hint of pink appearing on your cheeks.

"That's cute," he continues.

"Shut up," you repeat.

"I'm not making fun of you."

You look over at him, and determine that he's really not.

"I think it's cool," he shrugs in a way that makes you soften.

"Mom's a basket junkie. It's not just Easter. Baby shower? Gift basket. Retirement party? Gift basket. First period? Freakin' gift basket."

He smiles and turns back to his work, but the wheels in your overactive mind are already turning.

After the homework was finished and dinner was done, Eddie returned home to spend a little time with his uncle before work. (And bring him a plate, of course.)

You're lying on your bed with a book you're not reading when you see your mother walk through the hallway. You call out to her, and she comes back to pop her head in your open door.

"You rang?"

You bite your lip, your nerve faltering. It's not a big deal, you chicken. Just do it.

"Do you think… maybe… we could do an Easter basket for Eddie?"

"Why?"

You'd planned out a whole speech about why you suspected he hadn't had a real Easter in a long time, and why he'd be very appreciative, and how good he was to you, and how he really was your mother's favorite… and all of it went right out the window the second you were questioned.

"Relax, would you? He's taken care of."

"What?"

"You think I'd leave my favorite child out? Actually, I think every time one of you displeases me, I'll take a piece of candy out of your basket and put it in Eddie's."

"What?!" you hear your brother shriek from further down the hall. You and your mother both cackle. Fear not, Eddie Munson, the women of this household adore you.

Your mother was not much of a religious person, but Easter was her favorite holiday as a child, and she loved reliving some of those traditions each year.

Not the sunrise service, thankfully. She'd tried that a few times when you were little, and it proved to be much less fun when she was the adult wrangling the children, rather than one of the children being wrangled. She'd given up on that fantasy quickly.

These days, she settled for Easter baskets, her favorite holiday foods, and watching The Greatest Story Ever Told. She was the only person in the house who had ever made it all the way through it without falling asleep, but she didn't mind. Her offspring tried… occasionally.

By the time the youths had recovered from their morning sugar comas, brought on by her famous cinnamon buns and a pile of Easter candy, the real feast was usually underway in the kitchen. There was no room for experimentation on your mother's Easter menu: Ham, rolls, scalloped potatoes, green beans, dressing, deviled eggs, and a carrot cake for dessert.

She had cousins who always tried something strange, and had never forgiven them for tampering with her grandmother's carrot cake recipe. Everyone was expecting the familiar taste of childhood, and what they got was a mouth full of strange spices. And coconut icing instead of cream cheese? Blasphemy!

Now that her little trio had a few hundred miles separating them from the rest of their brood, she got to do things her way. Some might complain about being so far away from the bulk of their family on an occasion like this, but she didn't mind a bit.

She was looking forward to a nice, quiet, family affair. No nasty food-related surprises, no noisy toddlers screaming for attention or fighting over candy, no outrage over who said what or who brought an uninvited date or who's getting divorced. Just a calm and quiet day with her own children, and a shaggy-haired bonus kid.

You weren't sure how you did it, but you convinced Eddie to come over for breakfast on Easter morning.

Eddie Munson, out of bed before noon on a Sunday.

It was an Easter miracle.

He knocked on your door at 9:55.

Five whole minutes early.

He did not look happy about it.

"Good morning, sunshine!" you beam as you let him in. He grumbles and walks straight into you, resting his head on your shoulder like he's ready to fall asleep standing up.

"We have coffeeee," you tease quietly. He grunts.

"And sweet, gooey, freshly baked cinnamon bunssss," you continue. He licks the side of your neck, and you squirm away with a squeak.

"Sit, stay, gooood Eddie." You give him a gentle push toward the table and reach for a mug. Smiling sleepily, he drops into his usual chair. He puts his elbows on the table and rests his face in his hands, squishing his own cheeks adorably.

You fix his coffee how he likes it and bring the mug to the table, sitting close in case he falls over before the caffeine can work its magic. A minute later, your mom comes bustling in to check on her precious cinnamon buns.

"Good morning, Eddie, my favorite child. I'm honored that you got up so early to be here with us, that must've been very hard for you."

He chuckles into his mug. You sit silently by his side, both mesmerized by the sight of your mother whipping up a batch of icing in a measuring cup. Watching her magically turn a few basic ingredients into the best-tasting icing in the world never gets old. Especially when she begins pouring the liquified sugar onto the giant pan of perfectly golden brown cinnamon buns.

"Children, you're drooling on my table," your mother teases as she scrapes out the last of the icing with a spoon. "Saucers, please."

You get up and pull down a stack of saucers from the cabinet, placing them next to the pan that smells like heaven.

The aroma must be wafting through the house, because your brother stumbles into the kitchen blindly, still in his pajamas. He feels for his usual chair and sits down hard, sprawling his upper body across the table. Your mother carefully lifts out the first cinnamon bun and places it on a saucer. It nearly reaches the edges.

You give the first to Eddie, who is suddenly very awake. He looks from his massive cinnamon bun to you, and you give him a wink before returning to the stove. You bring the next one to your brother, still half-laying on the table, and accidentally put it so close to his face that it leaves a little icing on the tip of his nose. Finally, you retrieve yours and return to your seat next to Eddie. Your mother follows a second later, licking her fingers and carrying a saucer of her own.

"Eat up, Eddie. I only make these a few times a year. I'm amazed that these monsters agreed to share with you."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," your brother mumbles with his mouth full.

"Are you sure we can't revisit the No Familial Violence on Easter policy?" you ask.

"Nope, not today, but he's fair game tomorrow." He scoffs, and you smirk.

The boys each had seconds, and you split one with your mother. She collects everyone's saucers and walks them to the sink.

"Alright, it's go-time, they're in the living room," she says without turning around.

Your brother gets up and wanders into the next room. Eddie glances at the door and chugs the rest of his coffee like he's about to make a break for it. Before he can speak, you stand and extend a hand. He furrows his brow in confusion, and you tilt your head toward the living room. He hesitates, but reluctantly gets up and lets you guide him in.

Your brother is already digging into his haul on the floor, but there are two more heaping baskets on the coffee table.

You lead him toward the couch, where he begins to protest as soon as he sees his name. He turns to your mother, who followed you in.

"You really didn't have to--"

"I know. I wanted to."

"But you--"

"Eddie, it's not a big deal."

"But I'm not--"

"I told you, you're the best kid I've got."

He walks over and gives her a silent hug, which she returns.

You sit quietly and watch them, bursting with love for them both.

"Alright, I'm not used to all this genuine affection, go see what's in your dang basket."

Eddie laughs and lets her go, dropping onto the couch next to you. He pulls out each trinket and piece of candy like it's the best gift he's ever received. He seems exceptionally fond of the little stuffed dragon, which has been christened Sir Scorch.

Just a big scary metalhead sorting through his Easter basket. Nothing to see here.

After all the little treasures were discovered and your brother was barreling toward a sugar coma, your mom put her favorite Easter movie into the VCR. You began thinking about your forthcoming nap.

Eddie fought it, but eventually drifted off after about an hour.

Your mother was very impressed.

"Anybody wanna dye Easter eggs?"

You and Eddie both jolt awake at the same time. Your mom stands in the doorway, drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

"Really, Mom?"

"I missed it," she shrugs. "I'll do it myself if you don't want to help."

You look at Eddie and cock an eyebrow. He bites his bottom lip, looking unsure.

"C'mon," you say with a grin. You get up and walk over to your brother, still snoring on the floor, and nudge him with your foot.

"Get up doofus, we're dyeing eggs." He grunts and rolls over. You shrug and continue toward the kitchen, Eddie walking uneasily behind you.

Your mom has set up an egg-dyeing station: newspaper covering the table, six little cups of dye, a box of crayons, and a bowl full of boiled eggs. You and your brother had lost interest in this particular activity years ago, but you have a pretty good idea why it was suddenly back.

"Eddie, have you dyed eggs recently?" she asks, putting on her glasses and reaching for a green crayon.

"Not since I was a little kid," he admits, still standing awkwardly behind you.

"Come on, we'll show you how it's done." She finishes her drawing and drops the egg into the green dye.

You and Eddie sit at the table, and you reach for two eggs. You hand him one, and he takes it hesitantly. As you're trying to think of a way to explain this without making him feel bad about having no idea what he was doing, your mom reaches for one of the little egg dippers. Each kit only came with one, so she saved them every year.

She pulls an egg out of the pink dye with "Easter 1985" written on it in crayon. Eddie's eyes widen. She carefully places it in the empty egg carton, lined with a paper towel, to dry.

"Two down, twenty-two to go. Hop to it, kiddos. No curse words!" She points an accusing finger at you, causing a mischievous grin, then slides the box of crayons toward Eddie. He's still looking a little intimidated.

"Hand me the white?" you ask. He picks it out and gives it to you, watching as you write a quick, invisible message on your egg before dropping it into the pink dye.

"What's first: A Corroded Coffin egg, or a Hellfire Club?" you suggest, handing him the crayon. Eddie's eyes light up, and his face splits into a grin. He leans over and gets to work, cradling the egg with his left hand and letting the creativity flow with his right.

You look up, and your mom catches your eye. She winks, and focuses on her next egg.

"You're not gonna make us wear bunny-ear headbands and hunt for these, are you?" you jokingly ask after a few minutes of silence.

"Heck no! I'm packing these in my lunch next week, you're not taking them outside and getting them all dirty!"

You and Eddie both laugh.

"Wish I'd thought to buy bunny ears, though. I bet Eddie would look awfully cute in them."

He hunches over his egg, trying to hide his scarlet face with his hair, so he didn't see the adoring look you and your mother shared.

After the egg-stravaganza was cleaned up, it was nearly time for dinner. Most of the prep work had been done the day before, so it was mostly a heat-and-serve situation. Your mom was not a fan of doing more work than she had to on holidays.

Eddie's uncle was quite the opposite. The plant was always desperate for people to work the holiday shifts, and Wayne Munson always stepped up. Wayne took every holiday double-shift he could, so he and Eddie rarely saw each other at all on special occasions; they usually celebrated everything the day after. It broke your heart to think of all the holidays Eddie had probably been on his own, but now that he was yours, he'd never spend one alone again.

You'd been with him for over six months when you'd invited him to come over for Easter, and he'd still shyly asked if you were sure you wanted him to crash a family holiday. "You ARE family," you'd told him. You hoped that today had banished those thoughts from his twisted little brain for good. He's family. Your mom said so.

Dinner was perfect. You'd been stuck at the kids' table with annoying cousins for most of your young life, so this lineup was ideal. The Holiday A-Team. The meal was full of laughter and memories. Your mom told stories about dressing you and your brother in matching outfits when you were little, and the last time she tried taking you heathens to a sunrise service, and you finally revealed how a raw egg found its way into your least favorite aunt's fancy new purse. (She yelled at your baby brother. She deserved it.)

Eddie didn't volunteer any information about his early Easters, but that was okay. He enjoyed himself, and laughed until he cried when your mom broke out the album containing all the obligatory Mall Photo with the Easter Bunny photos.

She sent him home that night loaded down with so many Tupperware containers, he needed a bag to carry them all. There were two more cinnamon buns, a sack of colored eggs, and enough Easter leftovers to make a meal or two for him and Uncle Wayne the next day. He insisted that she didn't need to send so much, but you know he loved being fed as much as she loved feeding him.

Maybe next Easter, you could convince him to put on bunny ears.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x easter #*sigh* i just want him to have a happy everything #if the egg thing is unclear: he's dyed eggs before. just never thought of using crayons.#these images were sized for a side-by-side but i've been fighting with tumblr about it all fucking day and it insists on moving them #they're where they're supposed to be when the draft is open!#i give up #tumblr you miserable bitch!

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purpleprincessonfyre · 3 months

Text

OUAT AU - Galentines and Valentines

Characters: Liane Felton and Belladonna St James

Mentioned: Ethan Lensherr Long

Category: Fluff and Platonic familial love and hints to possible romance

Liane St James had never really hated any holiday before. Even when she was little. There were some she'd found boring or tedious but never any that just made her feel so low. Until of course now, when even the word Valentines felt like someone had put sandpaper on her tongue.

When you've had your heart broken as many times as Liane has, you almost become numb to the notion of romance and true love. She would watch Meredith flirting with McSteamy on Grey's Anatomy and feel nothing, see people kiss on the street and feel empty, and watch Romcoms like a zombie, just barely alive as the cutesy couples flirt and play cat and mouse.

For Bella's sake she still tried to show her love to her daughter on Galentines Day. A day out in town, a meal for two, a present, and Belladonna would accept them all in her usual manner. A slight nod, a mumbled thank you and then she would go back to whatever she was already doing. It still drove Liane a little crazy not being able to read Bella's emotions that well but she knew deep down that her efforts were appreciated.

But now with Bella's father in town, the Mayor wanting her to find dirt on him, information about a coma patient coming to light and so much going on, Liane had no time to plan anything for the 13th. Her head was too full of questions and concerns to even consider a moment for herself. Her world had been shaken up like a snow globe and the dust was still settling.

Liane was still at the office long after school had let out. She felt awful that Bella would be walking out those doors with no one to greet her but she had deadlines to meet. So wanted to just throw all her papers into a fire but she continued to work, her tightly wrapped hair starting to unravel, layers of her neat suit coming off until she was sat hunched at her desk in just a cami top and pants, furiously typing away and writing as the clock ticked on, pushing her reading glasses onto her nose.

As her work day finally came to a close and the sun began to sink in the sky, painting the clouds orange and pink, Liane gathered herself up and trudged out of the office to her car, running to the supermarket for supplies. It would probably be an oven pizza night. As she entered the store she was bombarded by posters declaring "Show your love for that special someone" and cheesy cards saying "Be mine" in cute lettering with teddy bears hugging on the cover.

Liane rolled her eyes and grabbed a basket as the realisation hit her. There was no gift for Bella! Frantically she searched through the store for something Bella might like, not wanting to let her down and she finally saw the perfect thing for her dark, gloomy daughter of shadows. She stuffed it in her cart and continued her shopping, starting to take more time picking out what she needed, grabbing a bottle of wine for herself.

"I'm home!" Liane called, opening the door with her foot as she brought in groceries.

"Sorry I'm so late, got held up at the office then went to grab groceries. You here?"

"I'm here." Came the response, calm and collected. Liane sighed in relief. She started carrying groceries to the kitchen and eventually Bella came to help her, putting away cereals and meats in the freezer.

"So how was school?"

"Kids were making Valentines cards. The jokes were unfunny and their messages insincere. I do not plan to send any of course but I doubt I will receive any either."

"Oh honey! Anyone would be lucky to have you as a Valentine."

"Inaccurate. But kind. What's for dinner?"

"Pizza! Listen kiddo I'm sorry I didn't plan a meal or do my cute Valentines sack lunch today. I've really dropped the ball this year. Forgive me?"

Bella paused and surveyed her tired mother's eyes. She saw the pain in her face, the ache in her throat, the sadness in her eyes. She cleared her throat and spoke.

"I do not need a Valentines nor a Galentines to know you love me. You show you love me every day without sending flowers to my door or writing inane poetry. Your actions speak louder than any cheap box of chocolates or heart shaped sandwich. Love is a feeling, and I know your love is real."

Liane smiled, rubbing her daughter's shoulder kindly. She had raised this girl but that mind was often too smart for its own good. As she let go, Liane remembered the gift she had bought.

"So I know you said all that and I also know you aren't easily impressed but when I saw this thing I just...I thought of you so..Happy Galentines Day, Belladonna."

Liane reached into a large shopping bag and pulled out a soft black mass of stuffed velvet and handed the mass to her daughter. Bella turned the velvet egg shape around in her arms and saw it had a face stitched on it with bright green thread for eyes, black thread for whiskers and a triangular shaped nose, and two soft triangular ears. It was an egg shaped black cat plush toy.

"I know you said you're too old for toys but I know you still have that old doll in your room and even though it is soft and cute I thought this one matches your aesthetic a bit more and I know that you don't mind hugs that are asked for and wanted so I just-"

"Mom. I love it."

Bella responded, her mouth curving up into a very small smile. She held the plush in her arms and squeezed it very gently. It was soft and warm like her mother's hugs. She looked up at Liane, satisfied.

"Thank you. I will treasure this." She put the plush down and opened her arms to her mother, wanting a hug. Liane's eyes were already filled with tears as she embraced her girl. Instead of rolling her eyes, Bella just let it happen, enjoying the moment.

Liane had never seen Bella smile like that before and she was overcome with emotion, it was like she had finally done something right in this journey of motherhood. As she felt her daughters arms around her waist she felt a huge weight lifting off her shoulders. Her back had started to twinge but she didn't even care. She had made her daughter smile. And that was all she needed.

Eventually Bella pulled away and brushed herself off, picking up her plush and turning to face her mother, her dark brown eyes serious again.

"Since you have made my Galentines so special, I feel there is something you should know. You can choose not to believe me or you can realise this is fated to happen because its all happened before." Belladonna stated, holding her plush tight.

"What's this about?"

"About your Valentines. You aren't meant to be alone. You may say you are a Girl Boss all you wish but there is someone in this town who loves you and I think you also may have begun to love him."

"Bella?"

"My father. Ethan. He has not said it to your face but he is clearly in love with you. And you have grown to love him despite the fact you are spying on him for The Mayor but that cannot be helped, he is an asshole and you can't refuse him."

"Bella!"

Belladonna stopped, her gaze fixed on her mother. Liane's cheeks had gone quite pink at this point and her eyes had widened very noticeably. She took her daughter by her shoulders to try and put her mind at ease.

"Sweetie. I- I wouldn't want to- how- that's very sweet, kiddo. But I doubt that. He would more likely hate me if he knew what I was doing. And you're right, I don't like it but I can't refuse the Mayor he's- I can't. But I do want to make you happy so I will stop trying to find dirt on your father if it will make you happy. I'm tired of this anyway, it's eating up my sleep and my time with you. Screw the Mayor. Ethan can do as he pleases in this town. Do you care that he has a record?"

"No."

"Then that's all that matters." Liane finished, smiling at Bella. Belladonna eyed her fairytale book, knowing Liane's actions would have consequences but knew that there wasn't much she could do to predict those just yet. But maybe...she could make sure there was someone to save her.

I know it's a day late but hope you enjoyed!

@jackiequick @gcthvile @cherrysft @blueboirick @meiramel @ask-starrk @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh

#valentines day #galentinesday #liane felton #askliane #liane's blog #marvel roleplay #violet pyre #belladonna daughter #amanda seyfried #ethan lensherr #ethane #jenna ortega #once upon a time #purple princess on fyre #ouat au

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rubyarrows · 4 months

Text

Holiday Excuses

The familiar scent of fresh coffee grounds and gentle hum of people conversations amongst themselves enveloped the air of the cozy local coffee shop that I found myself in waiting for my older brother to show face. I had asked him to meet me for a late breakfast here as a way to spend time with him and have our weekly fill in on our lives. That and he’s been beating around the bush in giving me a straight answer on if he was coming with me or not to visit mom’s side of the family in San Jose. I wasn’t leaving or letting him leave, for that matter, this coffee shop until I got one.

I was scrolling through Facebook when he approached the table I sat at, with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Excuse me is this seat taken?” he asked in a playful voice.

Acting like I was paying him no attention, I shrugged and continued to mindlessly scroll. “Was saving it for my brother but at this point I don’t think he’ll show.”

He chuckled slightly before walking over and giving me a hug. “Hey, YNN.” My curly haired, older brother greeted me before sitting down in the seat across from me. “Looking like you finally got a good night’s sleep for once.”

I shook my head and giggled. “Oh, you have no idea. This research paper is going to be the death of me. If not from the late nights, then the lack of materials on the subject assigned will stress me enough, I’ll fall into a coma.”

“And it’s due when?” He questioned as he placed his gym bag down onto the hardwood floor.

I sighed and rubbed my head in frustration from just thinking about the damn thing. “Friday. Just in time for the holidays. I swear May can’t get here fast enough.”

Marty shook his head in amusement. “Still want me to talk you out of the next degree out mother tries to talk you into?”

I groaned. “Please do because you know it’s bound to happen. Every graduation I ever had she seems to rope me into going back to school for another four years.”

“Will do.” He said with a smile on his face.

I was quick to change the topic of discussion. “Enough about my college habits. What’s been going on with you? You seem to have a few more scars since I seen you last month.”

The shaggy, blonde haired man in front of me shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old shit different day. Catch the bad guys, save the day. Be the big hero that somehow disappoints mom. I don’t know how that works out but hey what am I to do about that?”

I nodded at his rhetorical question. “Very true. That woman is never happy.” I stated before taking a sip of my coffee. “Speaking of our mother, you still haven’t given me an answer on whether or not you’re going to join us in visiting grandma this year.”

There was a hesitation as Marty went to answer, as if he wasn’t sure what his answser was going to be. “YNN, works been hectic and there’s this major operation that I can’t just bail on. I don’t have an answer but there’s a good chance that’s probably not going to happen.”

“Big operation, my ass, Mart.” I said as I rolled my eyes. “I know for a fact there isn’t no op, I’ve talked to Kensi. The girl is going to the cabin for Christmas. Unless PD has you in one, which I highly doubt considering you don’t really report to them anymore, if at all, there isn’t an op you’re working and you’re just making up excuses not to.”

“Who’s making excuses? I’m not... no excuses here. What excuses?” My brother rambled on but stopped when he noticed the unamused look that had now plastered itself on my face. “Are Aunt Connie and Uncle Newt gonna be there?”

“That’s who you’re trying to dodge?” I questioned him and when he nodded, I let out a small but understood sigh. “Not that I’m aware of. Last I heard, they are going to visit Sammy in Greece. Mom said something about she had a new boyfriend that she wanted them to meet, or something like that. I wasn’t listening to the entire story; Ma was rambling, and I didn’t have the patience nor the attention span to care to hear the whole thing.” Marty raised his brow and nodded. “Marty, it’s probably going to be the last Christmas that Grandma will be around and though I know and completely understand why you would want to avoid Aunt Connie and Uncle Newt at all costs, not that it seems to be a problem now, but she wants us both to be there.”

He sighed deeply in defeat. “Okay. Fine.” Marty finally said. “But I’m not traveling down there with Mom. I refuse to make that five-and-a-half-hour drive with her going on and on about all the things I could have done better since she last saw me. I don’t know how she knows these things and I don’t think I want to but I'm not dealing with it.”

“Oh, you really thought I was about to do just that?” I questioned, knowing exactly what he was talking about. I have had to endure it enough times my-damn-self. “Ha. You’ve got jokes, brother." The two of us laughed slightly then diverted the conversation as we sipped our coffee. For the rest of our time at the small coffee shop, we just enjoyed one another’s company.

#ruby arrows #ruby arrows imagines #ncis #ncis la #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis la x reader #ncis la imagine #ncis la imagines #ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #marty deeks x reader #marty deeks imagine #marty deeks imagines #marty deeks fanfiction

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thetistaboveall · 1 year

Text

The Coven Of Giants

In a weird sweep of dust flowing through the dank, miserable and busy suburbs of Hollow Coves overtake the neighborhood.

The neighborhood flows through sifting in to the air passing it come hitting hard by way of open windows.

It’s a holiday weekend for the men as their wives pack away for a weekly event of free times and fun.

The air so cool overflowing the room it filters to the top as the window shuts close quietly it tickles his skin.

The first man Tom plays with his senses as the nerves go into over drive sending his fiery vessels.

The synapses electrifyingly his mind fell in to a deep coma like state staying in a stasis as his body froze.

The air swirls above his head does his right and left cheeks sending it in to both of his nostrils.

His body cools blowing up his entirety of his body causing him to shake, shiver and total rock him.

His body breaks out in a feverish pitch in to a reverberating of his body he slips to the floor.

“You can hear the whispers in the wind for a strong call of his name.”

“Thomas! Thomas”

“What? What the fuck?”

“Who is there?”

“Ssssshhhhhhh”

“Nnnnnnnooooo! Ssssssttttttoooooppppp!”

“You can’t move”

“Can you?”

“Oh Relax”

Tom eyes pop open slowly stirring fully till he is awake rolling on to his eyes he pushes his body upward.

His eyes turn very dark black pacing a bit forward at a time he rips his closet door open.

Inside his walking closet he begins to undo his shirts, removing his pants and redresses himself.

He flows from the closet through the front door slamming it close he strolls next door to the house across the street.

His neighbor Alan tired as ever wiping his eyes with anger in his eyes he rages a bit making a fist.

He slam it in to the wall Alan grabs him by his shirt collar pulling him in to the building and slams his back to the wall.

“Who the hell are you to the knock on my door at eight in the morning?”

“Then why are you staring in my eyes.”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck me indeed, you need to so bad w at to crave me.”

“Ravish me”

“No! Zip it! Stuff it”

“Overwhelming! Need to love me”

“Kiss me! Feel my lips on yours consuming you.”

“Yyyyeeeesssss! Mmmm Babe ! I am at your will possessed.”

“Good boi!”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Kiss me again”

Tom sees his friend Andrew in the next door apartment next to his home with a bright bit of smile.

Andrew is about to be in for a shock rolling his eyes he shook his head and knowing it’s off.

Truth Andrew can’t believe that Tom tries to speak with him, Tom knows how odd and off he is.

“Andrew pal! Over here”

“What’s up Tom?”

“What’s up Andrew?”

“Pass me over”

“Give me a kiss”

“What the fuck?”

“Give me a strong kiss like a real man”

“Get the fuck off of me”

“What is that blowing in to my nose? Get off of me.”

“Sir my love Sir”

“He is prepped”

“Mmmmmm”

“Alan attends his best friends concert”

“Hey Guys!”

“Sing for me”

“My love”

“How about you guys dance for me?”

“Clap your hands for me”

“What’s that smell?”

“Me bro”

“Stay back”

“Smell me”

“Nnnnooooo”

“Shit Face”

“It’s so good”

“Sssoooo ggggoooodddd”

“Mmmmm…my love”

“Hey babe”

“Where is Master Lawrence?”

The end

#magic #Hypnosis #straight to gay #warlock #possession #alien #tom hardy #andrew garfield #grant gustin #alan ritchson

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kohakurin8 · 6 months

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It's Not Me, It's My Basement

Explained

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

This Post Contains Soilers Following the First Paragraph.

Proceed with Caution.

That's right! It's Halloween time, my favorite holiday ever, and I'm back at it again with the semi-extensive theory posts. This time I'm tackling something in one of my favorite genre of media -- Horror RPG Maker Games.

Last night I experienced an adorable, eerie little game called It's Not Me, It's My Basement.

Developed by arcadekitten, the incredibly short-&-sweet story follows a non-binary child named Embry G. Oliver who is hiding a horrible monster in their basement. Although they didn't see it for themselves, they believe that the monster ate their parents, and Embry now feeds it whatever they can so that it doesn't attempt to eat them too. Unfortunately, as the story progresses it appears that the more the monster eats, the stronger and hungrier it becomes...

The story then begins to reach its climax when Embry visits the market to find a traveling doctor in town. Since Embry has been telling the villagers that their parents are bedridden sick, they're forced to meet Dr. D. Light (who is acutely of his punny name) and take him back home. Dr. D. is incredibly kind and helpful, even capable of making Embry trust him enough to open the basement door. However, in an attempt to stop him from descending the stairs to meet the monster, Embry accidentally pushes the Dr to his death. Truly tragic ...

Throughout the entire short story, the monster is never truly seen. However, it does demonstrate its ability to mimic voices and presumably shapeshift, all the while acting mercilessly manipulative. By the ending, that took me entirely by surprise, Embry has a nightmare where they confront the demon and get consumed by it, only to wake up and brazenly descend the basement for real.

And that's it

That's where it ends.

Boom, roll credits.

Now, my intense OCD ass simply can't cope with an ending so sudden and inexplicable, even if it was written incredibly well. In fact, the entire story was cryptic and felt immensely symbolic, steeped so heavily in allusions to depression and guilt that you could serve it at tea-time. So of course, I began to research popular opinions and theorize about what all of it really meant.

Now, the most popular theories (and almost exclusively) are either:

1) Everything is exactly as it's spelled out for you. A monster ate Embry's parents, it can shapeshift and manipulate, and Embry finally gains the courage to confront it instead of running away.

2) Embry actually has a Split Personality, or psychotic alter-ego, which murdered their parents and now the Main Personality of Embry is living with guilt that they don't entirely understand.

3) Something bad happened to Embry's parents that, as a child, Embry cannot understand and the entire story of the game is Embry suffering from traumatic hallucinations.

Obviously, these all have some pretty big flaws. The first theory is simple enough, but relatively uninspired, and feels rather like an insult to the thought put into the nuances of the story. Not to mention, Embry, their parents, and even Dr. D. Light cameo in other arcadekitten games that canonically take place afterwards.

Which farther disproves the second theory, since the characters are all clearly alive and well. Not to mention, as someone with a lot of experience in the field of child trauma and psychological issues, the story really gives no hints whatsoever to Embry potentially having a split personality. Nor does it hint at any potential triggers that would cause them to kill their parents.

And the third theory is the best yet, but still leaves some holes.

So, after careful consideration, I offer you my inspired theory: The Coma Dream.

Perhaps they were in an accident with their parents, like a car crash (or in this world, carriage crash). They were sent into a coma and assumed their parents died based on the sounds they'd heard, since while in a coma they couldn't remember the details of what happened.

Being a child, Embry would have related the sounds they heard during the accident to some sort of monster. Especially if they were asleep when the accident occured.

Within the mysterious subconscious of a coma they could have fabricated a story based on their fears about what really happened and what life would be like without their parents. The heavy theme of guilt and mistakes would even be Embry's immature mind trying to cope with what happened, and feeling like they had done something wrong since they couldn't really understand it all.

Kids have a tendency to blame themselves for things that weren't their fault, simply because they don't understand the situation.

Then of course, facing those fears in the basement is what allows them to wake up.

This even potentially explains Dr. D. Light. Considering Embry's mother was a nurse, as revealed in her cameo in Crowscare, the Dr could be her boss or the family's personal doctor. Someone Embry trusted and liked.

Although Embry acted like they'd only just met the Dr, it isn't unheard of to not entirely recognize (or only subconsciously recognize) someone typically familiar in a dream.

And have you ever had a really intense nightmare where things start to get better, and you think something good might happen and help you, but then your fear and anxiety of something bad ruining it actually causes that to happen in the dream?

Because I have and that would explain why Dr. D was so reassuring only for Embry to panic and push him down the stairs. The more they worried about D getting hurt, the more they thought about what bad could happen, and suddenly those thoughts came to fruition.

Following this theory, after facing the monster in the basement, Embry may have either unlocked their memory about what happened -- a painful, terrifying memory that they were trying to hide -- or perhaps they merely finally gained the courage to wake up from their coma. Either way, when they wake up their parents and Dr. D would be safe and sound, and they could all live together happily again.

Of course, this is only a theory, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!

If you're interested in playing the game, you can download it here:

#it's not me it's my basement #inmimb #horror #rpg #horror rpg #rpg maker #explained #theory

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palettepainter · 9 months

Text

Incorrect cousin quotes!!

With all the cousin designs I have posted, time to make some quotes with them!

Liv/Zee/Penny/Lazer/Raph - me

Rand - @rottedbrainz

Gabe - @posies-and-bundles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lazer, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY! Rand, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

Raph: I think Lazer is in trouble. Rand: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

Raph: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Lazer meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

Zee: Why did you kidnap Liv!?!?! Rand: Ah- um- well- the reason for that is, uhh... Zoot: Sometimes, we must work together towards a common goal. Zee: NOT TO KIDNAP PEOPLE!

*when a child starts crying in public* Zee: *tries to make the child laugh* Liv: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down* Raph: *gives detailed instructions to the parents* Lazer: *cries with the child* Penny: *ignores the child* Zoot: *is the reason why the child is crying*

Zee : *sighs* I have no friends... Rand: Rand: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

Rand: Alright, listen up you little shits. Rand: Not you Liv. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Rand, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Penny: What if people had food names and food had people names? Lazer: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Penny for dinner. Gabe: What is wrong with you people? Raph: Shut up, chocolate.

Penny: So, what, now I'm just supposed to do anything Raph does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Gabe: If Raph were to jump off a cliff, they would've done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Raph jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Lazer: You jump off a cliff! Gabe: Gladly, provided Raph did first.

Raph: What’s it like being tall? Liv: Is it nice? Gabe: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Penny: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Gabe: Christmas is cancelled. Penny: You can't cancel a holiday. Gabe: Keep it up, Penny, and you'll lose New Year's too. Penny: What does that mean? Gabe: Raph, take New Year's away from Penny.

Liv: Aww, what's your dog's name? Rand: Spartacus. Liv, yelling to Gabe: TRY SPARTACUS! Gabe, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK! Rand: Liv: What's your favorite number?

Rand: Which way did Liv go? Gabe: Well, based on the direction of the wind, the broken sticks in the corner, and the slight disturbance in the dirt, I'd guess they went left. Rand: You could really figure it out from that? Gabe: No, you idiot, Liv sent me a text. See?

Penny: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness. Zee: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

Liv: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Gabe: I don't have pupils.

Lazer: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant. Rand: Well, on a good day, I’m both

Lazer: Okay. Hypothetically speaking, how mad would you be if I burned a hot pocket so badly it could probably fall off a ten-story building and be completely fine? Rand: Lazer, what did you do? Lazer: Take a guess.

Raph: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Penny: But are you shuffling? Raph: Everyday. Gabe: What language are you two speaking??

Gabe: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Raph: How? Gabe: I need someone to take the fall. Raph: What did you do? Gabe: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Penny, from the other room: Oh my god. Gabe: ... Penny: OH MY GOD! Raph: Make it a hundred. Gabe: Deal.

Raph: Regular soda is too sweet! Penny: Diet soda has a weird after taste! Raph: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Penny: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Raph: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Penny: I'm going to physically attack you. Raph: Which is better, Gabe? Gabe: Oh, I usually drink water! Penny: Wha- NO! Raph: DISGUSTING!

Liv: So when are we gonna tell them? Zee: Just give them a minute. Gabe: *Pulling on a door that clearly says push*

Liv: Do you guys want to see a butterfly? Zee: Ooh, yes please! Gabe, with their laptop open: I'm not going to stop working to look at a stupid bug! Liv: It's not a bug though... Gabe: ... Zee: ... Gabe: Well I still don't want to see. Zee, realizing: Please don't throw- Liv: Whee! *throws a stick of butter*

#Muppets #The Muppets #Muppet OC's #Liv #Zee #Zephyr #Raph #Penny #Lazer #Rand #Gabe #Zoot #Zoot's family #Zoot's cousins #Gabe may not have any grandkids but he's got an army of neices and newphes #They'll drive him just as crazy #Incorrect quotes

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deadskinned · 6 months

Note

"So there you are, ga ne. Mis—no no. At this point. Just Heat is fine, isn't it?" The cabin door is closed and locked. Galdino stares at man with blue locks with a smile that equals more of a mannequin rather than his true feelings. "That moonshine of yours, quite the thing. Quitee the thing. I sincerely wonder how you can enjoy it, ga ne. ~Saa… in honor of going into an alcoholic coma." The artist stops talking, going unblinking for a minute with empty eyes before regaining his senses. Placing a hand over the forehead, letting out a dry chucke. "Fu ha ha ha~ Excuse me. Anyway, I thought I would share a little of this wonderful day with you. Pocky day. Heard of it? " He throws a 1 kg bag of pocky over the nearest table. Lock seal already opened as he pointed to it. " Go on, Heat. Have one." As he offered, Galdino picked one as well. Chewing on it while locking eyes with the pirate. "Safe and delicious as your moonshine, ga ne."

✞ I it takes him a moment to register that he was being spoken to; despite the audible clicking of the doorlock that signaled that the other man had essentially barricaded them inside the cabin, alone without any witnesses. a slow turn of the head, and suddenly he's locking gazes with candlewick, of all people.

have they ever had a direct conversation before this?

heat can't remember.

he wasn't the type for small talk. not with folk he was unfamiliar with, and not when galdino's starting right out of the gate packing vibes too antsy to ignore, prattling on and on about how much he appreciated downing his home-made moonshine.

so that was where the missing bottle had gone. he should've guessed when he was checking up on the small cupboard tucked away in the ship's hold, only to come up short several days back: a real curiosity, considering the precious few who'd dare lay hands on his belongings without asking first. even kid himself had no particular reason to keep mum about sneaking a cap or two, whenever he felt like chasing after a failsafe buzz. would've been bitchin' about the ensuing hangover the next morning to the entirety of the new world.

the thought of the misplaced liquor somehow ending up in galdino's unsuspecting hands hadn't even crossed his mind. though, he doubted that the other was the type to go rummaging around where he wasn't permitted; much less embark on a thorough hunt to loot another pirate's freshly fermented booze. a prank on their supposedly new 'treasurer', perhaps?

the details escaped him. yet, it seemed like he was more victim than culprit here, judging by the five stages of grief rolling over his bespectacled face in alternating phases.

" that right? surprised to see ya back on yer feet so soon, if ya ain't lyin'. my brew's pretty strong. would've brought ya flowers or somethin' if i knew you were bedbound. "

the comment eases out casual, and equally as dry, while he lets his hand slip absent-mindedly to scratch at his forearm in an open gesture of awkwardness. he's double surprised at the waxman's relentless glaring, doesn't care for how he's crunching away with pocky between his teeth, unmistakably devious.

eventually, he answers with a loose shrug, not intimidated, but definitely skeptical.

" 'preciate the offer, but i think i'll pass. "

heat doesn't buy it. whatever galdino was planning on selling him. still, he reaches to grab what's been abandoned on the table with a pasty hand.

" tell ya what. how 'bout i do ya a solid and pass yer stash of sweeties along to the captain? "

he tests the weight of the bag in his hand; hundreds of biscuit-sticks shifting around within flexible plastic, untouched and ignored. a whole kilogram of pocky on its own was already too dodgy to begin with— and a part of heat wants to know how he's managed to obtain that much, annual holiday or not. the faint trace of a lazy smirk hints at his threaded mouth, but there's hardly any humor present there.

" — think we all know by now that boss's got a way bigger appetite than anyone 'ere. i'll even be nice and credit ya. who knows, might earn ya a few brownie points. "

#( ⊹₊ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 ／ answered. › )#waxgentleman #( namae. namae what are you DOING. )#( heat wasn't born yesterday; he knows he shouldn't be accepting candy from strangers. :3c )#( even on the off chance that mr3 isn't planning anything evil. he's already so wary lol;;;; )#( BUT IF GALDINO JUST WANTED TO STEAL A KISS FROM THE POCKY GAME HE COULD'VE JUST ASKED. u///u )#( i screamed when i logged in and saw this attack in my inbox;;; )#( i'm sorry if it's a itty bit weird or anything; i'm still tryna find heat's voice in my head since he's so NEW. )#( squeezes u until u explode. )#( praying 2 the tumblr gods that my formatting doesn't mess up. )

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alj4890 · 1 year

Text

Day 4: Travel

Choices Red Carpet Diaries Appreciation Week

(Seth Levine x MC*Jessica Clarke) in a Choices Red Carpet Diaries Drabble (Taking place between books 1 and 2 before Jessica moved out of her cheap apartment)

Prompt: "Can we go ice skating?" "It's 70 degrees, where are we going to find ice?"

Song inspiration: Walking In a Winter Wonderland by Darlene Love

Rating G for nothing but Fluff

@choicesrcd2022 @hopelessromantic1352 @promptnonny @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @trappedinfanfiction @flyawayboo @krsnlove

Masterlist

Hollywood Magic

Jessica sniffed as she finished trimming her tiny tree. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazed at the pitiful little thing.

"You look like you should be Charlie Brown's tree."

Taking a stuttered breath, she tried to calm down before answering her door.

"Ho Ho Ho! Merry Chris-why are you crying?" Seth came in, arms filled with presents, and kicked the door shut.

Jessica shrugged. She swiped up a dish towel to wipe her face.

Seth set the gifts down on her kitchen table. He folded his arms and waited for her to explain.

She ignored the silent prompt and began to search for something to drink.

"You want anything?" She asked.

"Yeah." He replied. "I want to know why you're crying."

"Well I want to know why you're wearing a Santa hat." She quipped back. "I guess life is full of unsolved mysteries."

"Nice try, Iowa. But there can only be one comedian in this apartment building." He spread his arms out with a grin. "And you're looking at him."

Jessica rolled her eyes as she brushed past him to sit on the loveseat.

Seth pulled his hat off with a deep, over exaggerated sigh.

Plopping down next to her, he set his arm around her shoulders.

Tears began to fall freely once again.

"Will my work never cease?" He grumbled playfully. "Hey Jess?"

She looked up at him.

"What do you call a kid who doesn't believe in Santa?"

Her brow furrowed. "I don't know."

"A Rebel Without a Claus."

A heartbeat of silence fell between them before a tearful laugh slipped out.

"Whew. I was worried I had lost my touch there." He gently shook her. "What's going on?"

"I guess I'm homesick." She mumbled, dabbing at her eyes.

She then narrowed them at the sunshine spilling in through the windows. It was so... unnatural.

"I've never had a Christmas without my mom or snow."

"Ah yes." Seth pulled her closer. "Who can forget freezing your extremities off while shoveling snow for five months of the year?"

Jessica laughed, settling her head upon his shoulder. "We always got the biggest tree we could find on old Mr. Winslow's lot. Then we'd pull out the ornaments passed down through our family and tell the same stories we tell every year about them."

"Hard same, but with a menorah." He quipped. "Nothing like polishing great Uncle Morty's for eight crazy nights."

Jessica chuckled. "Then we'd bake goodies for all our friends and neighbors. There'd be caroling."

"Sugar comas while singing in below zero temperatures." He smiled when she laughed again.

"There'd always be a group of us who would go ice skating on Christmas Eve." She continued. "Then we'd hurry home, nearly numb from the cold to sip hot chocolate by the fire."

"Now there's a thought." Seth turned towards her. "How about a date tonight, Iowa?"

"Um," Jessica replied, a little surprised by the abrupt change in topic, "okay."

"Can we go ice skating?" He asked.

She stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "I don't know if the heat has gotten to you, but it's 70 degrees here, where are we going to find ice?"

His smile grew. "Oh Iowa. You're in the city where the magic never stops." He got up, pulling her to her feet. "Go wash that beautiful face of yours. We are going to do one of your holiday traditions tonight.

************

"Welcome to Pershing Square's Holiday Ice Rink!" Seth gestured out where people were gliding along to music.

Jessica blinked, trying to take in the sight of an outdoor ice rink in downtown Los Angeles.

"How?" She asked.

"Magic." Seth replied.

"Sure, but seriously. How??? It was almost ninety degrees out today!"

"Oh Jess. We don't do science here." He wrapped his arm around her waist as they walked over to a skate rental booth. "I mean, I'm sure whoever runs this does. But we locals--"

"You are from Ohio." Jessica reminded him.

"I've been here long enough for the sun to burn away all those Midwest winters." He winked at her. "Anyway, we don't ask questions. We put on our skates and rock out to whatever DJ HowLy puts on."

"Walking in a Winter Wonderland is something you rock out too?" Jessica teased.

"We rock out when it's a remix of Darlene Love's version." He knelt down to tie her skates.

Jessica felt her loneliness begin to lessen as she watched him. Her heart ached over how sweet he was in trying to bring a holiday tradition from home to life out here amongst the palm trees.

He took her hand, smiled at her, and tugged her out onto the ice. He then let her go.

"Okay Iowa, let's see what all those years of ice skating taught you."

Jessica's smile made his heart race. He still couldn't believe someone like her was always ready to go out with him. After the unexpected success of her first film, he'd thought she would consider him a part of her past.

Instead, she acted as if nothing big had happened to her. She was still that sweet, gorgeous, incredibly talented girl who'd been completely lost in the big city six months earlier.

He whistled when she began to skate, doing elegant twirls and jumps around him.

"All right. You passed the test." He held his hand out to her. "I believe this is a couple's only skate."

"Oh?" Jessica pretended to think about it. With a huge smile, she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. "Then we shouldn't break the rules."

He squeezed her hand as they skated, both belting the lyrics to songs as loud as they could, laughing the whole time.

"You know?" Jessica cut her eyes towards him. "I like this couple's only idea."

"You do, huh?"

She nodded.

He stopped them off to the side of the rink.

"Anyone in particular you'd like to be the other half of your couple?"

She lowered her eyes while a pretty blush made her cheeks rosy.

"I had a few ideas." She looked up at him. "But clearly there's only one that will do."

"A few ideas?" Seth felt the wind get knocked out of him. "Wh-wh-who is it?"

He knew she and Matt Rodriguez made their love scenes in Tender Nothing's look like the real deal. Plus he'd seen how close she was to Teja and Victoria. Then seeing Thomas Hunt talking to her after the premiere revealed a lot potential romance there. He didn't stand a chance against any of them. Not only was he not in the same league with them, it wasn't even the same universe!

Jessica skated forward, pinning him between the barrier and her body.

"It's you, you dope." She draped her arms around his neck. "Who else has gone out of their way so many times to make me stop crying and encourage me?"

His smile reappeared. "You are pretty lucky, aren't you?"

He held her close as he sought her lips.

She hummed her agreement in the midst of it.

Her eyebrow raised in expectation once the kiss ended.

Seth took her hand again and pulled her back out on the rink.

"Yes, you are very lucky, Iowa." He continued. "But nowhere near as lucky as me."

#rcd appreciation week #choices rcd #choices red carpet diaries #seth x mc #seth levine #jessica clarke #prompt nonny #choices fic writers creations

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painted-piggy-ships-archive · 2 years

Text

Winds of Change

Jack Skellington x James Priest

Word Count: 1824

Tag List: @canongf @captainscyarika @ghostlyvenus-selfships @sweettoothselfships @knightfallships @groovyships @void-selfships

Summary: Been awhile, hasn’t it? (In regards to my writing.) James’ first time in Halloween Town, for the spooky month ✨

Warnings: Discussions of death/afterlife, mentions of a coma, brief mention of food.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a nice comment! 🎃

James awoke, blinking, to the swirling of autumn leaves around his body, and the sight of three costumed children staring down at him; a witch, a devil, and a skeleton. He flinched, scrambling to sit up as the three backed away, stared some more, then turned and ran, giggling mischievously. James looked up toward the sky, pale orange in colour… he didn’t recognize the leafless woods around him, nor did he remember how exactly he got here in the first place. Bracing himself against the tree behind him, he pulled himself onto his feet, legs pricking with pins and needles, flexing his numb fingers. With no reference of a way out, James simply, warily, began trekking forward.

He could not tell how much time had passed since he left that initial tree, for he could see no sun moving between the others, though it certainly felt like an early morning. Eventually, he passed through a small clearing, with a circle of trees around the edges, carved with peculiar, whimsical doors. After a moment of contemplation, he realized they each represented a significant holiday; Christmas, St. Patrick’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, Easter, and Halloween, and one he couldn’t quite put a name to considering its ambiguous shape. Of course, he felt most drawn toward the Jack-o-Lantern-shaped door, very likely representing Halloween, and approached it with newfound curiosity. His pale hand wrapped around the small wooden handle representing the nose of the Jack-o-Lantern and peered inside… darkness, and a crisp autumn chill, greeted him.

And suddenly he was falling, tumbling into the darkness beyond the door and through winds of leaves, like the one he woke up to. He opened his mouth to make a sound of fright, but nothing escaped his throat, and if he hadn’t closed his lips shortly after, he likely would’ve swallowed a leaf. The wind whistled in his ears, louder and louder until he made firm impact with solid ground. He wheezed as his breath was knocked out of him, clutching his stomach and rolling onto his knees as he tried to gain his bearings once more. When he could breathe normally and stood, he noted a long, winding pathway ahead of him, lit with Jack-o-Lanterns pierced on a similarly long and winding fence, as well as a scarecrow holding a sign: HALLOWEEN TOWN. This was all very strange, and James began to suspect he was dreaming as he followed the path.

Here, the sun was hugging the horizon, and slowly disappearing beyond it, making the path to this so-called Halloween Town darker by the minute. While it initially looked like a long walk without much to entertain James’ mind, he found himself at the gate in record time. A small band of odd-looking people was playing instruments just inside. James flipped up the hood on his skeleton hoodie and passed into town. He dug in his pocket for a moment, pulling out some loose change and dropping it into a tin placed at the band’s feet.

“Thanks, daddy-o” the saxophone player hummed after a pause.

“Don’t mention it. Is there somewhere I could get a map or some information or something? I… I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here.” James prompted, hiding within the shadows of his hood. The people before him did not appear to be alive.

“You could try the town hall. If you’re lucky you’ll bump into the mayor.”

“Thanks.” James nodded and ventured further into the town, passing over uneven cobble streets and past treacherously constructed buildings. At the center of the town, past an intricate fountain, James found the town hall, and a tall, clearly skeletal man walking out beside a shorter, fatter man with a doll-like face. They were talking excitedly about something when the doll man bumped directly into James, his rosy face quickly turning, literally, pale and upset.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized in an abrasive voice.

“It’s fine…” James glanced down at a sash slug across the man’s chest. Mayor. “I was just looking for the mayor, do you think you could help me?”

The mayor’s face turned back to its initial complexion, a wide smile replacing his deep frown.

“But of course! What can I help you with, dear boy?”

“Well, I don’t think I’m supposed to be here. I was just wondering if you could tell me what this place is? … Am I dead?” He found himself staring up at the sharply dressed skeleton, who shared a glance with his mayoral companion.

“Mayor Maynot, why don’t I help this lost soul?” The skeleton interjected. His voice was like a warm down comforter, smooth and comforting, and suddenly the rising anxiety James had felt was quelled slightly.

“Al-alright, Jack, you are the boss. You just let me know if I can help.” Mayor Maynot shrugged to himself and went off on his own while Jack gestured for James to follow him.

“Let me see your face,” Jack instructed as the two began to walk away from town and toward what appeared to be a cemetery. James pushed back his hood. “Why, you look as fresh-faced and alive as my dear friend Sandy Claws! Well, maybe not that fresh… but you’re absolutely right, you’re not supposed to be here, you haven’t even begun to decompose!”

Jack looked quite concerned.

“So what is this place? The afterlife?? Hell???”

Jack laughed lightly. “You’re right about it being the afterlife. More appropriately an afterlife. There are plenty of others, and you must be going here when your time comes… but it’s far too early.”

The two stopped at the cemetery gate. “Oh, I apologize for bringing you out this way, I just love to walk and talk, but we must head back to town. I’m sure Sally could help us figure out what’s going on.”

So the two turned back toward town.

“Sandy Claws?” James prompted after a pause. Jack smiled.

“Yes! I suppose you’d know him better as… what did he say it actually was…? Santa Claus?”

James nodded. “Yes, I’m familiar… I didn’t think he actually existed…”

“He says that’s unfortunately rather common, especially as the years go by. But he supposes that’s better, keeps people from trying to discover Christmas Town and getting themselves hurt in the process.”

“So there are other places like this beyond those doors in the forest?”

Jack nodded. “I would assume so. I’ve only ever visited Christmas Town, I don’t want to cause too much kerfuffle among the other Holidays, but perhaps it would be smart of us all to form an alliance… here we are.” Jack stopped in front of a bulbous tower and rapped upon the thick wooden door using its brass knocker. A hunched little man with a twitching eye opened the door, while a voice croaked out from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Jack Skellington, master!” The Igor responded. “A-a-and a stranger…”

“Let them in.”

Jack and James entered as a man with a head as bulbous as his home came down a winding ramp in a motorized wheelchair.

“Evening, Dr. Finkelstein, we’re here to see Sally, is she home?” Jack asked with a fondness in his voice.

“Sally!” The doctor called over his shoulder, but a ragdoll woman was already making her way down behind him.

“Jack!” She called out, smiling and approaching. The two embraced before she noticed James. Even she towered over him. “Who’s this?”

“Why, I haven’t even gotten your name.”

“J-James. James Priest.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, James. Though I must say, you look rather lively…”

“That’s just why we’re here. We’re trying to figure out why James is here so early in life.”

“Come with me.” Sally waved the two into the basement of the tower while Dr. Finkelstein went back upstairs. The basement stunk of things James couldn’t quite place as he stood awkwardly to the side and watched Sally pull a large cauldron from underneath a sink. She began filling it with steaming water and odd herbs.

“What are you doing?” James asked curiously, coughing into his fist.

“Finding your body in the world of the living. I suspect you may be unconscious, but not in a dream state…” Sally explained, stirring the murky liquid. James could see brief images beginning to form within the cauldron.

“Like a coma?”

“Precisely…”

“And if that’s the case, you may be stuck here until your body regains sentience.” Jack chimed in with another concerned look. James frowned and flipped his hood back up, seeking comfort.

“I-I suppose I could get used to living here…” he mumbled. “I’ve always liked Halloween.”

This got Jack to smile again. “Well, you’re in the right place, my friend!”

The trio leaned over the lip of the cauldron as Sally stopped stirring and the liquid began to clear up. Amongst the murkiness, the image of someone identical to James appeared, laying in a hospital bed. Out cold. James stepped back with a shudder, closing his eyes.

“That’s trippy,” he muttered as Jack placed a caring, bony hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry James, this must be quite alarming for you. But please, make yourself at home here until we can get you back safely to the world of the living,” he looked to Sally, “thank you for the assistance, my dear.”

“Of course, Jack.”

Jack took James to an Inn, making sure he got a room to his liking and asking if there was anything else he could do for him.

“Some food might be nice, but otherwise, I think I’m going to lay down…” James had felt increasingly weak since he noted the state of his living body. It was hard to believe this wasn’t just a dream. Jack nodded.

“I’ll have the staff send you up something, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind fixing a quick sandwich for you. We haven’t had a new soul for a noticeable while, now. Must all be getting to the other afterlives.” He started toward the door.

“Though, one more thing, Jack. This town wouldn’t happen to inhabit some strange children, would it?”

“What do you mean? Yes, some of the residents have kids, but they’re no stranger than usual.” Jack spoke fondly.

“When I first awoke, in the forest, three kids were staring down at me. One dressed as a witch, one as a devil, and one as a skeleton.”

Jack frowned. “Those would be the Boogie Boys, Oogie Boogie’s henchmen… it’s all a bit much to get into now, but I advise you steer clear of them. Nothing but trouble, those four. In fact, I might just have to make a visit if they showed interest in you. But don’t you worry about that, you rest now.”

Jack made a motion for James to lie down and he took the hint. The two waved to each other, then Jack left James alone with his thoughts. He had many, but they didn’t linger as he slipped into a catnap.

#q'd #self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert x canon #s/i x f/o #s/i x canon #piggy writes #💀King of Halloween🎃

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