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thetaoofzoe · 3 years

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Fic: Syverson the Protector pt 5

* Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part III (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part IV (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Author note: Finally part 5! Thank you so much for hanging in with me through this delightful journey and I hope that this part quenches your desire.

Summary: Henry has invited you to spend a few weeks at his cabin in the mountains and of course you agree. 💖NEW💖

Rating for this part: Sex, fluff, discussion of trauma (minor) Everyone has a good time and Aika is there too :)

I’ve picked ‘Henry’ as Syverson’s first name and he’s grown his hair out :D

Must be read in order, no part can stand alone.

Word count: 7500

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘Well,’ said your nurse as she watched you sort and pack your belongings. ‘If you want him to know how you feel, you have to tell him.’

She folded her arms and leaned against the narrow door frame to your hospital room. You glanced up at her.

‘I’m not twelve, Barb,’ you scoffed, nevertheless feeling pleased with her observation.

‘Well you were the one asking me to pass notes to him like you were in school.’

You raised your brows in surprise and then pointed an accusatory finger at her. You had resorted to note passing because you couldn’t see Henry face to face and communicate with him like an adult. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you made it work.

‘You, Nurse Barb,’ you started, about to say something caustic and then relented, deciding to be sweet. ‘Did a great job passing notes, and I thank you.’

You flipped closed your small travel case and crossed the hospital room to grab at one of the slowly deflating helium ‘Get Well’ balloons which still listed lazily around the silver weight that held it in place. With a small pair of scissors, you cut the ribbon tether and lanced the mylar in an inconspicuous place. Pressing the balloon to your chest, you squeezed out the remainder of the helium air mix and added the now flat balloon to the pile of other flattened balloons.

‘So? Then what are you going to do about it?’ Barb continued to press. ‘Leave and regret never having said anything?’’

You stopped compacting the pile of deflated balloons and turned to look at her.

This whole budding romance thing between two war torn lovers must have been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to the nurse, you thought pleasantly. It was certainly exciting to you. So, you cut her some slack.

‘I just happen to know that he’s outside in the pool area right now. And, you have some time before your flight.’

The look on her face was both encouraging and infuriating.

Smiling, you walked to the door and patted Barb’s shoulder.

‘All right. I’ll go.’

She waggled her brows, turned and walked with you down the narrow corridor and then through the half-empty dayroom. She stopped at the double glass doors that led to the pool area and used her weight to press open one side.

‘I can’t tell if you’re a really good matchmaker or a really bad matchmaker,’ you said absently.

She shrugged.

‘Good luck, and don’t be too hard on him.’

‘I won’t. Well, I probably won’t. Well...I can’t promise.’

She chuckled and quickly gave you a one-armed hug.

‘I’ll have them bring your bags to the car when it turns up. There are a few people going to the airport with you. So if I don’t see you… keep in touch, ok?’

You nodded and walked through the open door.

The pool area, as they called it, was really just a collection of beach umbrellas shading colourful inflatable kiddie pools, some blowup flamingos, and an odd assortment of mismatched lawn chairs. There were several men camped out around most of the medium sized pools, with their feet in the water and enjoying each other’s company. You spotted Henry right off the bat, as he was the only one still in a wheelchair and paused a moment to watch him laugh at something the man next to him had just said. You were loath to interrupt them.

I’ll just leave a note, you thought, turning your back to the men in order to return to the day room. He won’t mind. I’ll leave a note and my business card so he won’t feel pressured to say anything to my face.

A little lost in thought, you lingered there for a moment, with your hand on the door handle when your thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of teasing male voices calling out your name, accompanied by whistles and several coquettish sounding ‘yoo-hoo!’s.

A wave of heat rushed into your face and you hunched your shoulders in a self-conscious cringe.

Jesus Christ you hated military men sometimes.

But you had been caught and you had no other choice but to turn around and face them.

One of the men kicked out the empty lawn chair closest to Syverson and waved you over. Taking the invitation, you drew the chair close to the circle, lightly rested your hand on Henry’s shoulder and sat down next to him. It was good to see him looking so well.

‘I read your new article,’ said the man, and by deciphering his medical wristband you learned he was called Solensky. ‘That was a damn brave thing you did.’

You shook your head and looked at Syverson, hoping that he didn’t think you were trying to steal glory.

‘I didn’t write it to showcase what I did. I had to tell people what really happened. How heroic the men were. And my partner. The sacrifices that they all made. What I did wasn’t important.’

‘Saving my life wasn’t important?’

Syverson sounded a little bit hurt and turning to him you were at a loss to read his suddenly cloudy expression.

You opened your mouth to protest.

‘I-- I didn’t mean that you… of course you are important. I just did what I had to.’

You held his incredulous gaze and continued, ‘you know that, Henry.’

Didn’t he believe you?

‘He don’t mean it like that,’ said Solensky. ‘He means that, you doing what you did, was important. Even if you don’t think it was.’

Henry obviously agreed with the man’s assessment, for a smile lifted the corner of his mouth and you cut a relieved and fondly exasperated look at him. Sitting back in the creaky lawn chair you kicked your feet out in front of you and rested them against the cushy rounded pool edge.

‘Thank you,’ you said finally and nodded to Solensky. ‘I had hoped to get it finished and published before I left.’

It felt good to hear some praise from the men you were trying to uplift.

‘You leaving soon?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Today. In a few hours in fact.’

You turned to face Henry again.

‘I wanted to say goodbye before I did.’

His face remained unreadable and you feared that you had upset him in some way.

The door to the dayroom opened and Barb called to you.

‘The car is here early. They have to do more stops, so you’ll have to leave now, I’m sorry.’

You shot Syverson a panicked look.

Now? But you didn’t say all you wanted to say. You didn’t have time!

‘Ok,’ Henry said finally. ‘You don’t want to keep them waiting or they’re gonna have you walking home.’

He pressed himself up and out of the wheelchair and breathing a little hard from the exertion, he faced you when you stood as well.

‘I’m in your debt. Whenever you need me, for whatever reason, I want you to call on me. It don’t matter, you got that?’

‘I got it,’ you answered, feeling a deep pang of agony and regret in your gut. Leaving was harder than you had expected.

Henry smiled then and curving his arms around you, he pulled you against his sun warmed body.

And what torture it was for him to hold you like that!

You put your head on his chest and embraced him in return. And, when you lifted your teary eyes, he leaned in and kissed your forehead. But that wasn’t good enough. Not nearly enough and you squeezed him when his lips met yours.

‘Ok… ok,’ you giggled, feeling hot faced and aroused. ‘You gotta stop that or I won’t be able to leave.’

He didn’t release you.

‘You can stay and come home with me,’ he said, moving in for another kiss.

You ducked your head and stepped out of his embrace.

‘If you behave, maybe I will.’

Barb cleared her throat, a signal that you were out of time, and kissing him quickly, you turned to leave.

‘Barb’ll give you my card. It’ll have my info on it.’

‘I will?’ she asked, glaring at you and then at him. ‘Boy, I’ll be glad when you leave and I can stop all of this note ferrying back and forth.’

‘See ya,’ said Henry.

‘Soon,’ you promised and went through the day room doors.

It had been six months. Six months of convalescing at home, writing columns and binge watching all of the television shows you missed while you were deployed. It had also been a pleasant six months of regular correspondence with Henry, which culminated in him asking you to come to the mountains with him for a few weeks. He had a little cabin in Montana which he had been renovating and now that Aika was finished with her mandatory quarantine in the States, he was going to go there and relax.

A few weeks in the fresh mountain air was just what you needed and once you agreed, he made and paid for your travel arrangements.

It was refreshingly cool when you shuffled into the noise and chaos of the airport arrival terminal on your way to the baggage claim. However, you walked a little more leisurely than the hustling crowd, taking in the sights and idly people watching. As a journalist, although you had trekked through more airports than you cared to count, the peculiar culture of tiny, and expensive indoor pseudo-cities like this was still so compelling. It wouldn’t be strange to see a bleary eyed man chowing down on a stacked burger and swilling his third bourbon on the rocks at 6:30 in the morning. Or seeing a grown woman tucked into an awkward corner, and clutching her carry-on bag protectively in front of her as she tried to catch some sleep during an unexpected flight delay.

You had been both of those people at one point or another in your travels. But there was another reason why you were strolling and taking your time examining the mass produced keychains and tee shirts proclaiming the name of the state you were in. You were nervous and your heart banged painfully against your ribs. You could feel it galloping and straining against its internal tethers and you had to stop occasionally and pretend to look at overpriced pizza slices in order to catch your breath.

You were nervous about seeing him again. That sweet, unfairly handsome Captain Henry Syverson.

The thought of him made you smile but you pressed it into a straight neutral line in the event someone was watching. You didn’t want to seem crazy, grinning down at a display case of heat-lamp warmed slices of cheese pizza.

When you finally reached baggage claim, a man, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt was waiting for you. He stood with the rest of the chauffeurs looking bored and holding an open tablet on which your name stood out in bold block letters on the screen. You walked expectantly up to him and he smiled and greeted you by name.

‘How was your trip?’ he asked, as he walked with you to the baggage carousel.

‘It was fine, thank you.’

And the two of you stood side by side watching the conveyor belt start to move and roll out the luggage.

‘Which one is yours?’ he asked, moving closer to the belt, ready to snag your bag as it tumbled by.

‘The red one, with the white stripe. It has the camera shaped luggage tag.’

He nodded and when that red bag came by, he grabbed it by the side handle. He then put it down, pulled up the telescoped handle and indicated that you follow him to the parking lot. Outside, the cool air woke you from your flight induced stupor and you took in a long cleansing breath.

‘First time in Montana?’ he asked, grinning as he watched you stretch your arms and back.

‘Just tired,’ you said. ‘Long flight.’

He opened the door to the glossy black SUV and helped you step up into the high spotless interior. Through the back window you watched him stow your suitcase in the trunk and followed him with your eyes until he climbed into the truck.

‘So,’ he said and fiddled with his tablet. ‘It’s going to take a little while to get to the destination. Is it warm enough for you? Too warm? There are snacks in the centre console and water under the seat. Do you mind if I have the radio on?’

The questions seemed rehearsed and you assured him that everything was fine before you sat back into the plush leather seats and he drove off.

Taking out your mobile, you switched it off of airplane mode and it immediately pinged that you had a message.

Making sure you landed safely.

You smiled and replied that you had done just that and were already on your way.

I’ll be waiting. I hope you’re hungry.

The driver was right. It took two and a half hours to get to the cabin and the last mile or so was on a dirt road so pitted and bumpy that you weren’t sure you were going to come out of the ride in one piece.

But it was all made better when you spotted Henry standing with Aika on the broad porch of a gorgeous mountain cabin. When he said that he wanted you to spend time with him at the cabin, you immediately pictured it to be a one or two room Little House on the Prairie type place. Which was absolutely fine with you, as you wouldn’t be there to admire the decor. However, you were not expecting the beautiful structure that stood proudly amongst the trees.

The driver slowed, made an awkward k-turn in the dirt and deposited you directly in front of the tall man approaching the truck.

The sight of Henry made you feel weak and proud to show the driver that you had been chosen by a superior specimen. Henry briefly spoke to the driver through his open window and the trunk popped open. With hands clasped in your lap, you waited. Henry grabbed your suitcase, slammed shut the trunk and then opened your door. He positively beamed at you and when you took his outstretched hand, you felt like a princess being rescued from a high tower.

When the SUV made its way back down the dirt road and the two of you were finally alone, you were faced with one of two decisions.

One: behave in your usual awkward way and shake his hand or pat his shoulder and thank him for letting you come and visit.

Two: press into his arms and give him the biggest hello I fucking missed you, kiss he’d ever received.

With some internal dismay, you found yourself leaning towards option one. You didn’t want to lead him to the wrong impression about you and slowly you extended your hand.

A look of surprise drifted across his face, but he was apparently willing to follow your lead. Before he could take that hand, you had a change of heart and instead ran straight at him and clamped your arms about his waist.

‘Hey, baby,’ he murmured, kissing the top of your head and enveloping you in his strong arms.

Oh God, you thought. I’m gonna start crying.

Tears pricked your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you heaved with a desperate sob.

‘What’s the matter?!’ he asked, sounding alarmed with the sudden change in your attitude.

You clutched him tighter and put your face against him.

‘I’m… I’m so happy to see you standing right here,’ you gasped.

The last time you’d seen him in the flesh, he had still been mostly confined to a wheelchair, still healing from his terrible wounds and unable to look after himself. But there he was now, strong and whole and so warm in your arms that you felt an overwhelming sense of affection for him.

Henry held you tighter and you felt infinitely safe in his embrace. Everything was right with the world.

‘I thought about the moment I could do this,’ he said, gently stroking your back. ‘And now I made you cry.’

‘I’m just so happy to see you well,’ you said, pulling back and looking at his wryly smiling face. ‘And not hooked up to wires and IVs.’

‘Ok,’ he drawled. ‘Me too. In that case…’

He curved one hand about your cheek and lifting your face, he kissed you. It took a few more moments of cuddling before you eventually stopped trembling and having an existential crisis. He drew back, bent down and picked up your bag.

‘You hungry?’ he asked, slipping his hand down to your lower back and guiding you to the glorious cabin.

‘Famished!’ you announced and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

The dog on the porch sat up and wriggled with pleasure, her thick furry tail whapping excitedly on the wooden boards.

Henry dragged his fingers through the thick brown and black scruff and scratched her angular head. The dog bowed and flattened her ears softly and approached you. You put both hands on her head and massaged her fluffy ears.

‘I remember you,’ you said to the dog who continued to eagerly lick at your hands.

‘This place is different than where she’s from, but she loves it.’

Then to Aika he said, ‘stay on the porch.’

And the dog promptly flopped down on the cushiony bed made from folded quilts and began her surveillance of the surrounding tranquil woods.

Henry opened the cabin door and ushered you in.

The inside was just as spectacular as the outside and your mouth came open with surprise.

‘I know you did all of this, didn’t you. It’s so… beautiful.’

‘I had help,’ he answered modestly. ‘It’s been a work in progress for years. Still got some things to do, but it’s liveable.’

Liveable, you scoffed silently. That was an understatement. The place was an obviously handcrafted masterpiece. From the matte blonde wood flooring and the warm caramel panelling, it was a masculine tribute to a rustic lifestyle. The appliances were new, but understatedly retro and wood burning. The main living room was broad and comfortable with soft couches and homespun appointments. You followed Henry down a narrow hallway to the left. Off of that hallway was a short staircase that led to the upper floor.

‘There’s a guest bedroom down there,’ he said pointing to the door at the end of the corridor and the master is upstairs.’

He gestured that you go up the stairs and you complied. Opening the door at the top of the stairs, you found yourself walking into a bright warm room with a large bed facing a broad clean window that overlooked the trees and the lake behind the cabin. It smelt of pine and you wondered if he picked that scent because he thought you might like it. You did like it.

Henry put your bag on the floor by the bed.

‘This is your room.’

He rested a hand on the glossy dresser top which had been pushed against the far wall.

‘You can put your stuff in here, or hang them up in the closet.’

He opened the door next to the dresser to show you the empty closet space.

‘Bathroom’s over here.’

He crossed the room, opened the second door and you poked your head in, pleased to see a full bath and tub.

That tub might come in handy for sexytimes.

Once the tour was completed you smiled at him, but left the question of where he was going to stay to burn on the tip of your tongue.

It didn’t stay there long for Henry beat you to it.

‘I’ll be downstairs… in the guest room.’

There was hesitation in his voice and he trailed off seeming suddenly shy and awkward.

Was he as nervous about your visit as you were?

He didn’t look at you as he put a hand against the back of his head, which you knew was an unconscious self-soothing gesture. But you didn’t want to put him out of his misery just yet. You were enjoying it too much.

‘If… when you need me,’ he finished.

The implication of needing him, at night, hung heavily in the air and trailing a finger up his bare forearm, you squashed a smile.

‘And you’ll be downstairs…’ you said, keeping your voice serious and your expression neutral. ‘If… I mean when I need you. You’ll be downstairs? In the guest bedroom? Downstairs?’

He looked at you a moment, his own expression a mild mix of confusion and then that sweet slow bloom of understanding in his eyes. You saw the exact moment that he realised you were teasing him and you couldn’t help laughing.

‘C’mon you,’ you said, slipping your hand into his. ‘I’m starving.’

***

Once downstairs, he packed a big red-topped cooler with vegetables and potatoes and steaks that had been marinating overnight, as well as cutlery, plates and other sundry items. Carrying only a chilled six pack of bottled lager, you followed him down the winding gravel path to the lake. There was a rustic firepit down there flanked by two dark wood adirondack chairs and a picnic table.

You wondered if he made all of that himself and then chuckled. Of course he did.

You watched him dump the cooler next to the grated firepit and go to grab a few already split logs from a nearby pile. Clutching the thin cardboard handle of the sixpack in both hands you felt unbearably girly and unwilling to admit that watching him start a fire with a small pile of tinder and a magnesium firestick, aroused the fuck out of you. It didn’t help that his jeans stretched nicely across his thighs when he crouched lower and gently blew onto the young flame before quickly adding additional fuel until the fire was stable enough to tent the logs over it.

Henry rose and dusted his hands against the seat of his jeans and you cleared your throat.

‘That was sexy,’ you said and laughed at your own audacity.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly appreciative of your praise, but instead of addressing it, he pointed to the short pier.

‘Do you see the green nylon sack over there?’

You looked and nodded.

‘Take the bottles and put ‘em in the sack and lower it into the water. That’ll keep ‘em cold.’

Feeling helpful, you did as you were told. When you returned a few minutes later, you hoisted yourself up onto the top of the picnic table and rested your feet on the bench seat.

‘Do you want some help?’ you asked after a moment.

‘Nope,’ he answered, and cast another amused look at you over his shoulder. ‘You just sit there and be pretty for me, ok?’

You preened, and lightly patted your face. It was as pretty as you were going to get.

‘I think I can do that. Sure.’

And you sat there thinking about having children with him. You imagined taking them on camping trips and teaching them all of the survival skills they needed to fend for themselves in the event the zombie apocalypse drove your family into the woods. So you asked him if he was prepared for the apocalypse and sat there rapt as he explained his six point plan and how he had been planning and storing for the last three years.

When dinner was ready, the two of you ate at the picnic table and drank most of the beer and discussed the pros and cons of wasting ammo to achieve a head shot as opposed to just disabling the zombie so that you could escape it.

‘Yeah, but you are the one who’s gonna get the successful headshots. I’m just out there swinging a rake or something.’

‘Can get you a katana if you like.’

You laughed and swigged your beer. Pointing the mouth of the bottle at him you scoffed.

‘A katana?? I’d more likely slice myself up before I’d do any damage to a zombie.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Henry replied easily and stood up to stoke the fire.

He helped himself to another few spoonfuls of vegetables, which when offered, you declined.

‘A little training and some practice, you’d be fine.’

‘You have a lot of misplaced faith in me, sir,’ you teased him.

Henry was quick to answer.

‘You’re wrong. You already proved to be capable, ingenious and tougher than you think. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.’

Your chest tightened at the traumatic memory and you stared down at your empty bottle. The helpless tears started to threaten again.

But biting them back, you reached across the table and put your hand over his. Henry took it, curved your fingers over his and brought your hand to his lips.

Henry’s open emotion made you feel just as raw and vulnerable as you had that fateful day. The day that entwined your lives together forever.

You reached for him with your other hand and stroked his cheek, trailing your fingers through his beard which continued to amaze you with how soft it was to touch. He captured your other hand and kissed that one as well and then held them both. And when he smiled, you smiled in return. It was all right now.

It was starting to get dark and across the lake, you could see the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains. Henry got up and began clearing the table.

‘ Go and sit by the fire,’ he instructed you when you tried to help.

If he wanted to do all of the work, who were you to stop him. You slid onto the cool chair and drew your knees up and to the side to get comfortable just as Aika came trotting out of the woods. She went immediately to you and put her slobbery chin on your thigh. You rubbed her furry head until she was tired of the attention and went to beg scraps from Henry.

‘Coffee?’ he asked a moment later and lifted an old battered tin percolator to show you that he meant coffee and not anything else.

‘I could have one, sure.’

You had got used to black coffee during your time on the front and really never bothered to change it when you went back to civilian life. The cup he gave you was hot and tasted fresh with a hint of vanilla.

‘Vanilla,’ you said and he chuckled, seating himself in the chair next to you.

‘I ah… I got used to it over there, now I can’t drink any other kind.’

You didn’t mind it. Not at all and the two of you sat in companionable silence.

‘It’s a beautiful place, Henry. A beautiful cabin. I am amazed that you did all of this.’

‘My friends helped. This is their place when they want it too.’

Aika flopped down on the space between the chairs and Henry reached down to pat her head.

‘Are you glad I’m here?’ you asked finally, admittedly fishing a little for compliments.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m very glad you’re here.’

You were going to say something else but a yawn caught you off guard. Now that you were full and content and safe, sleepiness began to creep in around the corners.

‘You had a long flight,’ Henry offered as explanation, holding out his hand to take your cup. ‘If you want to go on in to sleep, I’ll take care of things here out here.’

‘No! No, I don’t want to leave. I’m not too sleepy.’

‘Awright,’ he chuckled and leaned back into the chair.

Aika yawned then and you did the same. You put the cup on the flat arm of the chair and closed your eyes. You had never felt so happy and before you knew it, you had drifted off. When you woke with a start later, it was dark and the fire had been extinguished. A glimmer of faint stars reflected by the lake was your only anchor point that confirmed where you were.

But it was the type of dark that could only be achieved when there was no light pollution from nearby cities and you felt a twinge of panic.

‘Henry?’ you called sitting up.

He wasn’t in the chair next to you and Aika was gone.

Shit! What if the killer was still out there?

You heard footsteps approaching on the gravel path.

‘I’m here.’

His voice was warm and steady.

There was no moon and standing, you blindly searched in front of you as he came closer. He put his hand around you, resting it low on your back then pulled you to him. At his touch, a jolt of welcomed pleasure spread out from your core.

‘Why are you out here lurking in the dark?’ you giggled softly, pressing your hands flat on his chest.

‘Making sure nothing carries you off,’ he replied just as quietly and gave you a squeeze.

Henry was clearly feeling for the edges of your boundaries and you deeply appreciated that about him. He hadn’t forced your hand and he was eagerly playing by your rules.

‘I’m glad to have my big strong protector to save me from the monsters. Are you… gonna take me inside now?’

‘Yeah. C’mon.’

God, his voice was so unbearably soft and alluring and you knew that if you weren’t careful, you would find yourself beneath him in his bed tonight.

You had to be careful, so once inside the cabin, you kissed him and bade him goodnight. Admittedly, that probably wasn’t how he expected the evening to end but you knew you were going to make the wait worth his while.

After showering thoroughly, you changed your clothes and sat down on the edge of the soft bed. The cabin was quiet except for the normal sounds of the woods coming in through the open window and the sounds of Henry moving around downstairs.

I could get used to this.

After a moment you heard the shower running downstairs and you immediately worried that you hadn’t left enough hot water for him. Stretching out on top of the quilt you listened and imagined his naked body, his wet, soapy naked body and a tingle raced up your thighs and pooled insistent heat in your groin. You bit your lip and pushed your hand between your legs. You held your hand there, still and unmoving and listened until everything had fallen silent on the lower floor.

You breathed quietly, in and out and in and out again and relaxed, drawing your hand away and tucking it across your midsection.

Sleep, you thought. It was all going to be more rational in the morning.

Bright sunlight and sweet bird songs greeted you the next morning. After washing up, you followed the scent of coffee and breakfast downstairs.

The front room was empty, but there was food and a still steaming coffee pot on the stove. The sound of Aika barking outside led you to the door and then out onto the porch. Henry stood at the bottom of the steps holding a red ball which he launched into the air for the dog to chase. He turned when you came to stand next to him.

‘Morning,’ he grinned and kissed you when you lifted your face to ask for it.

‘Hi. How did you sleep?’

‘Yeah, good, good. You?’

You stretched in the warm morning sunlight and fondly watched Aika race back to you. She dropped the ball and danced away, to wait for the next missile. Henry obliged and the dog took off again.

‘It was better than I expected,’ you admitted happily. ‘It usually takes me a couple of nights before I can get comfortable in a new place.’

He nodded and took a drink from his flowered cup.

‘Good. Hungry?’

‘I love that you’re always feeding me,’ you said joyfully. ‘Can we eat down by the lake?’

‘Anything you want, baby,’ he agreed.

The air by the lake was warm and fresh and a few metres out on the water was a group of ducks having a morning swim. Basking in the sun with a hearty meal and an intriguing and funny man was the most indulgent thing you could have possibly done. And you held onto the moment for as long as it presented itself.

You even agreed to a short easy hike after breakfast and in a sun drenched meadow you lay in the sweet smelling grass and talked about nothing in particular.

The day passed in uneventful bliss and again, Henry prepared dinner over the fire and afterwards the two of you sat side by side on the top porch step to watch some unexpected fireworks in the eastern sky.

During a lull in the colourful explosions, you went inside to grab a seat cushion.

When you came onto the porch, you were careful not to kick the cup at Henry’s side. Instead you picked up your own cup and gesturing for him to make room, you tossed down the cushion and sat on the step right between his knees. A little smile blossomed on your face, a response to the feeling of peace spreading through you, and you leaned back against Henry using his thighs as arm rests.

‘I like this,’ you said quietly and relaxed into the warm hands gently kneading your shoulders.

‘Yeah.’

The sound of him, low and husky behind you, filled you with pleasure. You pressed harder between his open legs and he went still. This was the moment of truth. Your heart thrummed with anticipation against your ribs and when he relaxed, so did you.

A beat of silence drifted between you and then he spoke.

‘You wanna go inside with me?’

There was a loud scratching sound of your nails raking along his jeans, evidence of your involuntary reaction to his clear invitation.

‘Yes. I-- want to.’

The breath he let out was audible.

‘C’mon then.’

Henry pushed himself up from the step and effortlessly lifted you in the process. It was like floating on air, reckless yet safe in his strong arms and when your feet finally hit the porch, you were loath to be released. You turned around to face him and slid your arms about his neck. The force of his kiss surprised you, and you clung tighter to him, opening your mouth to take all of him in. Henry pulled you against him and walked backwards towards the cabin door.

You cried out with delight when he crouched and swept you up into his arms. Just like the charming prince he touted himself to be.

‘I love this,’ you murmured, nipping at his lower lip and then suckling it between your own. ‘Why don’t you fuck me in your bed.’

‘Fuck,’ he groaned and clutched you to his chest. ‘You’re gonna drive me crazy, baby.’

‘I promise I’ll drive you crazy.’

Henry didn’t waste time in carrying you to the small bedroom at the end of the hall.

His room was clean, and quiet. Not as fancy as the master bedroom, but it was enough with its bed and bureau and the small adjoining shower. Aika, who had been napping on the floor at the foot of the bed perked up and cautiously thumped her tail as if wondering why the hell the two humans were making so much noise.

‘Aika,’ said Henry desperately. ‘Out!’

With a groan of a petulant child, the dog heaved herself up and reluctantly left the room. Henry booted the door shut behind her and then set you down onto your feet. There was enough gloaming light coming in through the windows for you to see him grin.

He cupped your face between his hands and kissed you gently, thoroughly and then let his fingers trail down over your shoulders, your arms and then across your waist where he curled his fingers beneath the hem of your baggy tee shirt. Instinctively you raised your arms when he lifted the shirt up and over your head. He tossed the shirt onto the chair in the corner. He then turned you around and unhooked your bra which was also tossed to join the shirt. And still keeping your back to him, he kissed your shoulder and then the other and then kissed the space between them. The light scratch of his beard on such an unexpectedly tender place made you shiver and your nipples harden. He hummed quietly, a sound of absolute satisfaction and he nipped you lightly where your shoulder sloped down to your collarbone. You sighed voluptuously and leaned into his muscular chest, turning your upper body slightly and reaching back to smooth your hand over his head.

Henry slipped his hands up from your waist and cupped your bare breasts and kissed you deeply as if trying to drink in every bit of you. You felt utterly possessed, and helpless in the face of his overwhelmingly masculine sexual power. You would give him everything, anything and all he had to do was ask.

He slid his hands down your belly again and into the elastic waistband of your shorts. He eased them over your hips and chased your curves to the warm, velvety space between your legs. Highly aware of his two thick fingers beginning to work into your wetness you arched and moaned breathlessly, your voice rising sweetly into the warmth of the room. A dark knowing chuckle rumbled behind you and Henry dragged his tongue across your lower lip.

All of your attention narrowed to that single delicious focal point of those deft fingers stroking your quivering clit and sliding deeper inside you.

‘I want you,’ Henry murmured and the demand behind his words made you shudder. ‘I want you so bad.’

Yes, you thought. I want you. The moment I met you, I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.

You turned in his arms and a wave of lust crashed over you at the sight of him. He slipped those two previous busy fingers into his mouth and sucked off your juice. You crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer as you backed towards the bed. Henry whipped off his shirt and took his time unbuckling his belt and shoving down his jeans until he could stand beautifully naked before you, his thick beautiful cock hard and standing at the ready.

You were ready for him indeed. Henry closed the space between you and grabbing you about the waist, he hoisted you up and sprawled you messily across the bed. You sat up, reached for him and dragged him down atop you. He was heavy, and pressed you steadily into the soft sheets and you never wanted to escape him. Henry kissed you hard, punishingly, muffling your sudden cry of pleasure with his mouth. You hugged and kissed him and swore under your breath, eager for the soft velvety feel of his blood-hot cock sliding up along your inner thigh.

‘Come inside me, Henry.’

It was all the invitation he needed.

The newness of him sliding into you hurt just a little, a small but welcomed reminder of what it meant when two lovers finally joined. Henry stilled then, and breathed quietly, as if fighting his urge to cum. You stroked his shoulders and kissed his face, encouraging him to focus only on you. He lifted his head and held your gaze as he rocked up into you again, then again, slowly and deliberately, stoking that fire smouldering between the two of you. You arched against him, vaguely aware of your own lusty sounds and Henry increased the intensity of his thrusts and in turn heightened the ferocity of your pleasure.

Henry lit your fuse and it consumed you. It crackled over your sensitive flesh and along every nerve ending and you responded eagerly to every slow drag of his cock in and out of you. He made you feel alive, more alive than ever before and at the moment of your orgasm you closed your eyes and let his name escape your lips, offering it up as a prayer, as praise. As thanks.

You held onto him when he finally completed the circuit and poured himself inside you.

It took several moments of panting beneath him before Henry moved off of you and you immediately felt the loss. So you lay there, sweat cooling on your skin and basking in the warm feelings of well being. When your senses returned, you got up and went to the bathroom for a quick pee and wash up and when you returned, the bed was turned down and you crawled gratefully beneath the soft sheets.

‘That was fucking amazing,’ you murmured to the man next to you. ‘That was the best sex I have ever had.’

Henry chuckled and sounded pleased.

‘Yeah. I waited a long time for you.’

‘Oh yeah? The moment I put my hand in yours outside of the barracks, you what? Wanted to carry me off to fuck me?’

He grunted.

‘Yeah! Something like that. I would’ve at least got your name first, /then/ put you over my shoulder and carried you off.’

You smiled to yourself and imagined the scene and how shocked the men would have been to watch their stoic captain haul off the journalist for a little fun. You closed your eyes, only intending to get more comfortable to continue the conversation. However, again sleep had other ideas.

Light burst behind your eyelids and the sound of shouting male voices filled your ears. You struggled to open your eyes, but something was holding them sealed shut. Another explosion and then the sound of rocks raining down all around you. I’m on fire, you thought, desperately trying to claw your way out of burning clothes. Your hands were already seared into talons of fused flesh and bone and there was nothing you could do to stop the pain. Sand blasted your vulnerable flesh and you opened your mouth to scream, only to be choked by tiny merciless shards of hot glass. You continued to scream and scream barely aware of the hands on your arms and the voice calling you name. It was Henry and he was shaking you out of your nightmare.

‘You’re all right, baby. You’re all right,’ he murmured pulling you against him. ‘It’s just a nightmare. You’re all right now. I’m here.’

As the dream melted away, you curled up into his arms and burst into tears. Henry gentled you until you quieted and even beyond that until eventually you were able to speak.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry…’

‘Don’t be sorry, baby,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t be. I’m here. I’ll protect you.’

You lifted your tear wet face and kissed him. Then again and again, rolling onto your back and pulling him with you.

‘Make love to me, Henry. Please. Make love to me.’

‘I’ll take care of you,’ he promised.

And you trusted him to do just that.

The morning rain kept the two of you inside the snug cabin and in bed where you took your time exploring and delighting in the mystery of each other.

‘Does it still hurt?’ you asked, pulling back the sheets and stroking your fingers along the thick jagged scar that cut across his lower belly.

Henry looked down at where you were touching him and shook his head.

‘No. Not anymore.’

You fell silent, listening to the rasp of your dry fingers gliding across his skin. Henry curled an arm about you when you put your head on his shoulder.

‘You never went to talk to someone about it, did you.’

It wasn’t a question and as much as you wanted to feign ignorance, you couldn’t shut down your immediate and visceral reaction to his observation.

No. You had buried yourself in work the moment you got back to the States and didn’t want to think about the trauma that had befallen you. What was the point? It was over, wasn’t it?

Henry felt your body tense and he rubbed your back.

‘That’s why you’re still having nightmares.’

Your voice was small when you spoke, hoping to be heard against the lashing rain.

‘I thought I could handle it.’

He chuckled.

‘I know. I thought I could handle it too. They don’t let us go home without group therapy. I fucking hate it, but I do it, because it works.’

You stopped the back and forth motion of your hand and just rested it on his scar. It was the thing that drew you together, the thing that reminded him of you.

Henry turned his head and kissed your forehead.

‘You’re so strong. And you’re carrying this weight. But you gotta let it go, baby.’

‘I know. I… dream about you dying in the explosion and then burning to death. I can’t stop it. I can’t help you.’

Henry held you close.

‘You’re alive and I’m alive. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to worry when you’re with me.’

You slept against his chest for most of the day and dreamed, not of violence in a desolate place but of a bright new future.

-end part 5 you naughty little things. I love you ;D Please consider helping me to broaden my audience by reblogging this fic and sharing. Thank you.

Tag list: @lightsidecalling @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @the-soot-sprite @harrysthiccthighss @little-green-love @foxyjwls007 @angreav @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @supernaturallymarvellous @laketaj24 @october505 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @foodieforthoughts @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @singeramg @sapphirescrolls @brandycranby @zealoushound @eldarwen333 @beck07990 @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @kalesrebellion @angrythingstarlight @lavitabella87 @kebabgirl67 @hail-horror-queen

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #man of steel #geralt #the witcher #reader insert

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I just want to say I really, really adore the way you write. Got me really hooked tbh. I’ve read some of your APH Denmark x Reader stuff (since APH Denmark is a huge fav of mine), and I was wondering if you’d be up to write a fluff scenario wherein APH Denmark gives the reader a LEGO Bouquet? Thank you so much! ❤️🤍

Then, will you be happy to hear that you’re in luck. I was working on the sequel to ‘The New Chieftain’ and just finished a longer, more cohesive, more complex, and maturer story. The revisit really ups the game. But it’s not for little kiddies 😳

Anywho, I haven’t written a scenario before, but it looks like it’s just flash fiction. And just in time for Valentine’s Day too ❤️

Denmark: Valentine’s day - LEGO bouquet

- Featuring the Dane’s disastrous attempt at online shopping -

Mathias is natural with romance until it’s February the 14th. It’s a day dedicated to romancing, so of course he’ll be nervous! He’s going up against every other guy in the world trying to make their special someone feel special. But he’ll always try his best!

The day went much better than he thought.

He took you skating, then to a homey café afterward.

But then again, he always had a track record of overthinking anything with labels. Call it an outing and he’ll be normal about it. But a date? He’ll be acting like it’s the first. Valentine’s day, however, will turn him into a bundle of nerves. He will fuss over anything and everything and get embarrassed over the silliest reasons.

Just when he thought he got over himself, he encountered his direst problem yet. The lego flower bouquet he ordered from Amazon still hadn’t arrived. And it was already four in the afternoon. Mathias chewed on his fingernails as he checked the package status.

“Still in transit? What do you mean, still in transit?” He winced, digging his hands through his hair. “Due to an influx in orders--no. You’re kidding. Come on!” His eyes were wide with disbelief, but along with that were the beginnings of dread as he glanced down at the time. Then, at the order status. Then, back to the time.

“Well,” He huffed impatiently. “I guess the only thing to do is wait.”

Mathias drove to the store ten minutes later.

When he came back an hour later, you were waiting by the couch with an Amazon package on the coffee table. Out of breath and too excited to think, he never managed to join the dots.

“Ooh.” He scurried in. “What did you order from Amazon?”

“No, what did you order off Amazon?” You stood up and held onto his torso. Mathias thought for a moment. When it clicked, his expression relaxed in a knowing sigh. He pulled out something from behind, revealing what he hid behind his back. “You got me lego flowers?” You mused joyously. “Thanks, Mat. I’ve always kinda wanted these!”

He handed the gaudy box to you with a gentle smile.

“Yep. I thought these would look cuter. It can make our house look more like our Minecraft house,” Mathias grinned. “And the best part is, they don’t ever wilt.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” You inspected the package. When you set it down, you showed him a coy look. His cheeks grew rosy like he predicted exactly what you’d say. “This is really sweet, Mat. I probably should’ve bought you the same. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything Valentine-y.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” He hummed, bringing you in for a tight hug. You returned it with just as much fervor. “I just hope you like it enough to own two of them.”

“What do you mean?”

Mathias pulled away with a nervous laugh.

“That Amazon package is actually the same thing,” He picked up the cardboard box and shook it. The lego pieces rattled inside. “I messed up. Don’t ask about it.” When you heard it, your eyes went wide like a switch just flipped.

“Then I’ll buy it off you. How much was it?” You looked around for a pair of scissors while he watched you with a blank face. While you cut open the box, you glanced up at him with a mischievous stare. “Well? What are you standing around looking stupid for? Don’t tell me you haven’t got it yet.”

“I think it was around seventy bucks,” Mathias answered, showing a light frown. “And I’m just standing normally. What did I not get?”

“I’m buying this off you, dumbass.” You laughed, much to his surprise. You handed an identical box to him and pulled him down for a quick peck. He gawked at you, but his lips quickly tilted up into a wide smile. Did he not mess up like he thought he did, after all? “I was conflicted about getting you flowers, but...”

Pulling out a few notes, a fifty, a ten, and another ten, you slid it into his little breast pocket and patted it. Mathias lifted his eyes to you, which sparkled like a child’s would on boxing day.

“... Happy Valentine’s day, Mat.”

#ask answered #thanks for the ask anon #scenario #valentine's day #denmark x reader #lego bouquet #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hetalia x reader #alfredosauce50 #aph denmark #hws denmark #hetalia scenario #hetalia scenarios #aph denmark x reader

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galladrabbles · 2 years

Note

I know some of my fellow drabblers were a little nervous about what I’d come up with for this week, but I think I chose a pretty open-ended prompt with a lot of possible interpretations. In exactly 100 words, I’d love to see what you come up with for: CUT. It’s what a director yells at the end of a scene, what your take-home is from a job, the outcome of using kiddie scissors or the downside of handling a switchblade… so many ways you can go. Happy drabbling, guys!🥩💈🎬 ✂️ 🔪🩹

Thank you, Maria!

You read it here first, my dear Galladrabble Crew, this week's prompt for the writers is:

CUT

Again I'm amazed about Maria's brain (and appreciate the ideas you serve to us on a gray ask-background-platter).

I have no doubt whatsoever that you will all come up with amazing 100 words exactly. Can't wait to read them!

Happy drabbling from the Galladrabble Mods too!

#galladrabbles #weekly prompt #mzshko #answer #mod post #no16 #cut #gallavich

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insaneasgardian · 3 years

Text

Haircut Of Love - Sambucky

Summary: Confessions are made, and lives are changed the day Sam gives Bucky a haircut.

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: Bucky being slightly sad while thinking of Steve, Bucky thinking that his feelings for Sam are unrequited (they're not), Idiots in love.

A/N: I have actually worked on this for longer than I should've XD A big thank you to @cassiecasyl and @aixabi for being such great friends and helping me out by proofreading, and making suggestions!

He knew he should've stopped Bucky tagging along, but the moment that infamous, "I'm coming with you!" so eagerly left the super soldier's lips, Sam knew it was pointless to persuade him to stay behind.

Not that he really minded, the mission he'd been assigned with was a tough one, and it would've been lonely if Bucky hadn't been so adamant about accompanying him.

Sam stared into the fireplace and focused on the embers as he let his thoughts wander. There were some terrible people to be stuck with in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, but Bucky certainly wasn't one of them. He was an interesting character for sure, and Sam was sure he still didn't know a whole lot about him, but their relationship had developed all the way from 'a couple of guys' to 'almost best friends'.

"Hey", came the voice of the man Sam had so deeply been thinking of. He turned around with that signature smirk he reserved especially for Bucky, and watched with delight as the White Wolf turned a light pink color, and it wasn't because of the cold.

"I thought you might want to catch a shower, the water's nice and warm" the brunette said, and Sam nodded as he noticed his friend's damp hair from his own shower.

"Man, you need a haircut" Sam remarked, and much to his pleasure elicited a chuckle from Bucky.

"Do I?"

"It has gotten kind of longer..."

"Well, it's not easy to find a hairdresser in the forest"

"I could cut it for you"

The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself, and he didn't miss the way Bucky's widened ever so slightly. Sam internally scolded himself, feeling that he'd made things awkward somehow.

There was a slight pause in the atmosphere, but the ex Winter-Soldier eventually smiled. It was a weak smile, but genuine nonetheless.

"I'd like that," he told his friend, "would you mind?".

Sam shook his head, a bit too enthusiastically, and that made Bucky raise his eyebrows

“I can do it now if you want, so I don’t get your greasy ass hair all over me after I’ve gotten out of the shower”, Sam casually slipped in to look less ecstatic than he really was.

Bucky scoffed and crossed his arms at the statement, but his grin only grew wider.

“So… are you gonna give me something to cut your hair with?” his friend asked him, making a scissor snipping motion with his fingers.

The brunette’s lips tugged downwards into a frown and bit his lip as he often did when pondering. Sam couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the bottom lip in between those pearly white teeth, but he forced himself to snap out of it.

After a brief moment, Bucky snapped the fingers on his vibranium arm and turned to walk towards the room he was staying in. “Wait there!”, he had instructed Sam, who had no intention of getting up from the comfortable position he was in anyway.

Promptly, Bucky had returned, clutching a pair of scissors that Sam immediately identified as a pair of Captain America themed kiddie scissors he had recently bought for his nephew, AJ. He burst out cackling.

“What’s so funny Samuel?” the White Wolf pouted, plopping next to his friend who was dying of laughter.

“You stole that from AJ didn’t you?” Sam pried, inwardly dancing at the thought that his secret crush would want something with his face on it.

“Psh, no… I permanently borrowed it, that’s all”, Bucky insisted, moving from the couch to sit on the floor in front of Sam’s legs so that the other man would be able to cut his hair with more ease.

“Mhm”, Sam hummed, already weaving a piece of Bucky’s hair between his fingers, and snipping it off, just like that. It seemed easy enough, so he kept on going, chopping bits of hair here and there, trimming the areas which really needed it, and taking care not to overdo the cut and end up making Bucky look bald in certain places. He was doing quite well considering that he was equipped with nothing but a pair of small, blunt kiddie scissors, which Sam was certain professional hairdressers did not use

A lovely period of pure silence fell in between the two men. The only sounds were the scissors delicately doing their job of cutting the brown locks, accompanied by the gentle crackle of the fireplace, creating a relaxing atmosphere.

“Steve used to cut my hair, you know… Used to do it all the time in the 40’s” Bucky said, breaking the silence. Sam froze in his movements, but only for a second. It was rare for this man, who had been through so much to talk about his past like this.

“We’d sit outside on the street in the summer, he’d be on a chair with his scissors and I’d sit down in front of him, punk gave a damn good haircut to be honest”, he continued, and Sam chuckled.

“People would give us dirty looks as they walked by, it wasn’t uncommon for people to think Steve and I were a couple, but it was frowned upon to be in a same-sex relationship back then… sometimes still is of course”, his tone was now sad, as if he wanted to admit something, but was refraining from doing so. Sam stopped what he was doing, and set down the scissors, obviously sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Still, Steve and I were just friends, that’s all he’d ever wanted to be anyway”, Bucky finally finished.

Sam got off the couch, and slipped down onto the floor next to the 107 year old. “And what about you? Did you ever want to be more than friends?”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, which donned a neutral expression, “It’s complicated Sam… I’d be into a girl one second and thinking about Steve the next”.

Sam gently nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own, and gave him a small smile, “Bisexual then?”, he questioned.

The other man nodded, and looked at Sam with a grin now gracing his features, “Yea, but you know what? I forgot all about Steve…” he paused to dart his tongue out his mouth and wet his lips, “The day I met another guy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about”.

Sam’s world shattered the moment those words left Bucky’s lips. The thought that the man he had pined after for so long was yearning for another made him want to burst into tears right there. However, Sam Wilson was not the kind of man to be salty over the choices of others. So he kept on the smile he had been wearing the entire time his heart broke over and over again. Yet, he had been so absorbed in his own mind that he failed to notice the longing glances Bucky was shooting at him, the ones he had been giving Sam ever since he first met him.

“Happy you could get that sorted out for you man!” He said brightly, patting Bucky’s back and climbing back onto the couch to resume the haircut.

The ex winter soldier was dumbfounded. Had Sam not noticed how he felt? What if he had? What if he didn’t appreciate the advances?

There was stillness once more, but this time it was incredibly awkward. The two sat absorbed in the silence, no longer so focused on their own thoughts, but on every movement and action the other did.

“All done,” Sam finally said, and gestured towards the large wall mirror in the living room. Bucky looked into it, and nodded.

“You’ve done a nice job, thanks”, he mumbled.

“No problem” Sam told him, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to go take a shower now”, and with that, he rose and climbed the stairs to get to the bathroom. The footsteps faded away and when Bucky heard the bathroom lock click shut, he leaned his back against the couch with a sigh. He ran a tired hand over his face.

What had he done wrong? He’d watched all the movies, read all the books and listened to all the music Sam had suggested. He’d come to see Sam’s family as his own, he cherished Sarah, AJ and Cas with all his heart.

Hell, he’d even taken dating advice from Zemo…. Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong.

Bucky wasn’t sure. He may have lost the charm he had back in the 40’s, but Sam had always accepted him for who he was. He never questioned Bucky’s past, or forced him to be more social and open. That’s the reason Bucky developed more than platonic feelings towards him. He was so easy to be around.

However, the white wolf figured that if Sam didn’t want anything to do with him romantically, the least he could do was to maintain the relationship status they had now. Not to mention, he had the perfect way to do that.

Mac and cheese. Sam’s favorite food.

A grin grew on his face as he scrambled to the kitchen. It was a tasty and easy thing to cook and would be done before Sam even got out of the shower. Bucky proceeded to locate all the necessary ingredients they had brought to the cabin, and got straight to work.

It wasn’t a difficult job at all. With his swift speed, and his mind set only on the task before him, he was done within minutes. He even managed to get two servings plated beautifully, and just in time too, because as he finished setting the table, Sam descended the stairs and made his way into the kitchen. A smile was drawn on his face at the smell of the meal, and all the previous tension seemed to have dissipated.

“Smells good in here!” he exclaimed, his eyes then landed on the beautifully presented plates of mac and cheese. He gasped and clapped his hands like an excited child, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He thought it was adorable.

“Alright, alright, take a seat Sammy,” Bucky said, gesturing to the bar stools next to the kitchen island which the food rested on.

Both of them rushed to sit down and dig into their dinner. Bucky watched his friends expression as he took the first bite of his food.

Sam’s eyes closed in pure bliss, as his taste buds thanked him. “Buck, this is heaven in my mouth, tastes even better than what Sarah makes”.

Bucky blushed, but quickly tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Sarah’s my teacher, I owe it to her”.

Sam nodded at the statement, but commented no more on the topic. Instead, he took another bite and made eye contact with Bucky. “So… who’s this guy you’ve been crushing on?” he inquired.

Bucky was taken aback by the question, he blinked rapidly, “huh?” he mumbled, earning an eye roll from Sam.

“Listen man, I’ve never pressured you to tell me anything before, but we can’t pretend like that conversation didn’t happen” Sam said gently, setting his cutlery down, and reaching a hand over to place it on Bucky’s vibranium one.

The brunette gulped, closed his eyes, and took two deep breaths. He’d have to get it out. Or else it would slowly kill him to watch Sam find someone else. Even if his feelings were unrequited, the man had a right to know.

“It’s you” he said quietly before he could chicken out.

Sam slowly blinked, and shook his head, “Sorry, repeat that?”.

Bucky groaned and looked up from his plate which he’d been staring at the entire time. He gazed into Sam’s doe brown eyes with his own piercing blue ones, “It’s you! You’re the guy I’ve been crushing on!” he agitatedly replied.

Once more, there was that silence that seemed to be consuming the two of them so much lately. Bucky wanted to cry, to hide the humiliation. He was certain that Sam’s lack of words meant he didn’t feel the same, because Sam always had something to say.

“Forget it,” Bucky choked out, getting up from his seat, but Sam’s hand tightened its grip on his wrist, stopping him from getting away. The super soldier turned around slowly, trying not to make eye contact with Sam so that he wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, Sam rose from his seat and his lips met Bucky’s in what was a tender, loving kiss which shocked the latter, but he readily returned it. They stayed like that for a while, embracing each other as their arms snaked their way around each other's torsos. It was a moment neither of them wanted to break, but were forced to. Eventually, when they pulled apart gasping for air, they looked at each other in surprise, but merriment. Wide beams adorned both of their gorgeous faces, and their eyes glinted with excitement.

“So…” Bucky began, “you were desperate to get a piece of me, why, is it the new hair?” he said teasingly.

“The next time I give you a haircut, it’s gonna be turned into a mullet”, Sam threatened, making the other man raise his hands in surrender.

The mac and cheese was long forgotten as they clutched each other once again. Their hearts were bubbling and overflowing with love for one another, and it was not a love that was going to fizzle and die out. They fit perfectly in each other’s arms, like it’s where they belonged.

Two men, who had their own individual problems denying them a place to be truly content in the world, had finally found their refuge in each other.

Finit

#sambucky #sambucky fluff #tfatws #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws fluff #bucky x sam #sam x bucky #marvel #mcu #tfatws sambucky #sam x bucky fluff #bucky x sam fluff #insaneasgardian #haircut of love #haircut of love insaneasgardian #sambucky fics #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fluffy fanfiction

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

come on in, folks, i got some kind of goof ass Beetlejuice/Evil Dead crossover for you to enjoy.

He’s eighteen, and it’s Saturday, which means that he and Lydia are wandering around Manhattan, looking for trouble to get into. Lydia, eleven and ever his little shadow, is standing next to him, as they take a moment, on the busy New York street corner, to sip their boba and think about their next move. They were meant to be watching some horror movie that had looked alright from the previews, but ended up being so stupid, it wasn’t even fun, and the Deetz siblings had found themselves walking out, one hour poorer but a bucket of overly butter saturated movie popcorn richer. “I still can’t believe how bad that was,” Lydia says, again, huffing, because they’d actually paid money to see that stinker, instead of sneaking in, which is their usual habit. “Ya get one big name attached an’ everyone apparently stops givin’ a shit. Musta figured th’ droolin’ masses would eat it up,” he agrees, and he slurps up the last of his tapioca balls, and then proceeds to eat the plastic straw. “Is it too much to ask that characters actually be interesting, and, I don’t know, behave like normal human people?” Lyds bitches, as BJ takes a bite out of his cup, too. She glances up at him, dryly. “I mean, I guess maybe my standards for normality are low, but still.”

He grins at her. “Whatever could you possibly mean, sister dearest?” he puts on a posh, almost transatlantic accent, and she rolls her eyes, and sucks boba up in her straw, then shoots the pearls at him like a pea shooter. He snorts and laughs.

It’s a good day, despite the letdown at the movies. It’s nearly that time of year, just about the start of his seasonal depression, as the sun becomes shy and things go cold and gray. Still, there’s some time left with the sunshine, so he’s drinking it up, savoring it, and it feels good, to stand here with Lyds, and talk about nothing. “Alright, come on, let’s second act it,” he grins, and she perks up. “I think Wicked’s playing!” “Wicked’s always playin’.” “Well, I’m not sitting through Hamilton, it’s a Saturday. I’m not learning if I don’t have to.” “Totally fuckin’ fair. Music Man, maybe?” “Hugh Jackman’s weirdly brick shaped head freaks me out.” “There’s gotta be a show we can sneak into,” BJ frowns, scratching at the scruff of his chin, and then he catches a scent he’s never smelled before, as Lydia puzzles through their remaining options. It’s like death, sort of, but not. Like death warmed over, or death, refried. He takes his sister’s hand, and leads her away from the street corner, following the smell, nose in the air, pupils blown wide, and Lydia laughs. “Great, time to go poke a dead thing. That’s more fun than The Last Four Years, at least.” She’s seen him go like this before, and thinks she knows what to expect.

Neither of them know how to react when they follow the scent down an alleyway and see the violent fight happening in front of them.

Parked at the far end of the alleyway is a car, some 70’s make that he doesn’t know enough about such things to name, and between it, and the Deetz siblings, is an one handed man absolutely going feral on a group of three refried dead smelling zombie… things. “Deadly-vu,” he hears Lydia whisper, as they watch the man perform a scissor kick that sends a zombie head flying. It bounces like a basketball against the brick wall that makes the alleyway, rolls, and lands at the Deetz sibling’s feet. There’s a beat, as they stare at it, and it stares back, before the head on the ground opens its mouth and speaks. “DEMON!” it shrieks, and then it makes the life ending choice to roll at Lydia, teeth bared, and his boot is going through it, crushing through the skull like an overly juicy bug under his heel. He takes a second to wipe the gore from his sole onto the pavement. “Maybe Wicked could be good,” he turns and says to Lydia, who responds by ducking behind him, because the body the head formerly belonged to seems to be stumbling at them, clutching something in it’s boiled and infected and puss covered arms, and it thrusts the thing at BJ, before falling down and collapsing into dust. It’s a book. Some kind of creepy old demon book, from the look of it. He wrinkles his nose in vague disgust, and then takes a sniff. If the zombie things are refried death, this thing is a whole fucking Mexican food buffet of it, and it makes his head spin in a way he’s never felt before. He kind of likes it. He’s about to give the cursed reading material a tentative lick before a boom rings out from in front of them- the one handed man has pulled a sawed off shotgun off his back, and dispatched another corpse thing. There’s one left, and it’s circling the man, who by this point is so blood covered, he looks like he was tricked into being prom queen, or something.

“Is it just me, or do you freaks just keep gettin’ uglier?” the man quips, and the corpse lunges, a stumbling move which earns it the butt of the shotgun to the jaw, which goes flying. The zombie is shot through the gut, and drops, but is a twitching, squirming mess. BJ’s seen enough horror movies to know that thing is getting back up. The stranger has apparently, too. He takes a moment to reload the shotgun, then double taps, blowing clean through the thing’s skull. He blows at the slightly smoking barrels of his sawed off, twirls it, and holsters it, re-slipping it onto his back. It’s a pretty cool move, actually, and the siblings watch in rapt attention. It takes the three remaining people (well, two people, one demon,) in the alley a moment to actually focus on each other, and there’s silence, before the stranger speaks. “Uh,” says the man, covered in blood, and Lydia peaks out from behind BJ, and stares at him, with big eyes. “Kids,” he hears the man mutter. “Great, just what I need, a coupla kids, gettin’ in my way.. Hey, kiddies,” he says, louder, with a smile, which might be really charming when he’s not soaked in rot and blood, but the effect at the moment is not as sincere and friendly as he clearly thinks it is. “Looks like you two little heroes managed to wrangle my book away from those deadites. You wanna do your pal Ash a favor, and hand it over?” He makes a “come here” motion with his stump arm, and then seems to realize that’s not so appealing, because he tucks that appendage behind his back, worried, suddenly, about scaring them. As if a man with a missing hand is the weirdest thing they've seen in the last five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Lydia says, and BJ can’t help but agree with that sentiment. Also, he feels a vague sense of sudden responsibility for this weird old tome. It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing a human should have. Maybe those zombies… deadites? Maybe they were trying to get back what was stolen from them. Though he’s not charitable enough to assume that they’re the good guys in this feud. The stranger, Ash, takes a careful step forward. “It’s alright,” he says, like he’s talking to a wild animal he’s trying to tame, and not a teen and preteen, respectively. “I’m not gonna hurtcha. Just need to get my book back.”

A sudden screeching wind roars down the alleyway, and both living humans react, ducking, as it bellows and swirls around them, kicking up dust and trash and chunks of leftover deadite. “Demon! Aid us!” BJ feels a presence in front of his face, something he can’t see, but a great, ancient something, reaching out to him, demanding, begging, pleading, for him to assist in whatever macabre goal it wants to meet. He responds by sticking his unglamoured tongue out at it. “Ewww, gross. No.”

The thing shrieks again, and makes a beeline for Lydia, which is just about the stupidest thing it could have done, because he drops his glamour fully and snarls, gives the ancient being a psychic push back, and he sends the thing that cannot be seen flying, out of the shady darkness of this alleyway, past what he assumes to be Ash’s car, and out onto the city street, into the sun. It shrieks and moans and curses him. He flips it off, as it dissipates. The vibe in the air, however, tells him it’s not “dead,” just gone.

Ash straightens up and looks at him. BJ’s already slipped his human disguise back on, so the effect is that Ash has just seen what seems to be a slightly too pale and definitely overweight human teen somehow push back an ancient evil, totally unaffected. Now it’s his turn to let out a confused, “What the fuck?”

“Come on, BJ!” Lydia grabs her big brother’s arm and pulls him away, running from the gore and the confused zombie slayer. “Wait, kids-!” Ash rounds the corner, after them, but the Deetz siblings are already gone, disappeared into thin air, flash stepping the span of blocks in the blink of an eye, and they don’t stop until Lydia, sick from the teleportation, gives his hand a squeeze. They appear on a rooftop, confusing and traumatizing some pigeons that had been roosting.

“Wait, why did we run?’ BJ asks, and Lydia looks at him like he’s a moron. “Because that guy was clearly a monster hunter! And kind of really good at it!” she says. He mulls that over, and smiles. “Worried for your big bro?” he bats his eyelashes at her, and she responds by slugging him in the gut, which he reacts the barest amount to. “Last thing I want is to explain to mom and dad how you ended up with a shotgun blast through your skull,” she says, and crosses her arms, before leaning forward, to study the book he’s still holding. “So. What is that?” He grins. “Wanna open it an’ find out?” Read the rest of the first chapter here!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice au #bj deetz au #ashley williams #ash williams #evil dead fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #charles deetz #my writing

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copias-thrall · 3 years

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Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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pines-troz · 4 years

Text

Weekend With The Warners Chapter Two - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO tasks Pinky and The Brain with the important assignment of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 3,017

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/68388166

The mice continued on their way through the studio lot, holding hands as they went. As they found themselves alone near the lot entrance, Brain decided to discuss his latest plan with his partner.

“Listen close, Pinky, for I have devised a surefire plan to take over the world. Your ingenious decision of choosing The Iron Giant as our date night movie the other evening has greatly inspired me, Pinky. We will build a giant robot to assert our dominance over humanity!” Brain eagerly declared, choosing to ignore the pacifist message of the beloved animated movie. “I’ve already made calculations for our finances, and we would need exactly five million dollars to buy the necessary parts. Fortunately, I’ve come up with a brilliant way to acquire the funds.”

Brain pulled Pinky closer as he explained. “We will start a family-friendly crafts tutorial channel on YouTube, teaching children how to make slime among other wholesome DIY-projects. After we grow a substantial following, we’ll shamelessly peddle overpriced merchandise! Once we make a fortune from selling our wares, we will then purchase the necessary materials to construct our mech which we will use to intimidate the Canadian Prime Minister and ascend to power!”

The Brain began to chuckle evilly, and Pinky joined in with his eager giggling.

“But first, we must purchase filming equipment from the electronics store and return to the lab!” Brain commanded.

“Say Brain, how do you spell DIY?” Pinky asked, taking out a pen and notebook.

Brain blushed furiously upon hearing his boyfriend’s moronic question. “Pinky, you are without a doubt the most imbecilic mouse I’ve ever met. But, by Ptolomey, I am madly in love with you.”

“Aw Brain!” Pinky cooed, moving his tail into the shape of a heart.

As the lab mice were about to exit the movie lot, they were stopped by Ralph the security guard.

“Uh, hold it right there.” The bumbling guard ordered. “The CEO wants me to bring you two to her office by cone, duh-I mean drone!”

The mice were immediately swooped into a net and carried above by the drone. Ralph had some difficulty controlling the drone, but he managed to fly the rodent actors over to the main office building in the middle of the studio lot.

“This is utterly mortifying.” Brain commented as he tried to prop himself into a more comfortable position.

“Oh cheer up, Brain,” Pinky consoled. “Think of it like we’re on a magic carpet ride!” The taller mouse wrapped his arm around Brain, pulling him close as he began to sing. “I can show you the worl-”

But Brain clapped his hand over Pinky’s mouth while wearing an indignant frown. “Don’t.” The smaller mouse spat.

As the drone flew through an open window in the office building, the mice were immediately greeted by the company CEO, Nora Rita Norita. The businesswoman brought out a pair of scissors, cutting through the net. Upon liberation, the mice fell down onto one of the leather chairs facing the front of her desk.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Ms. Norita addressed.

“Frankly I would have preferred some prior notification about this emergency meeting, such as an email or a text message, as opposed to being captured in a drone and flown over against my will, but here we are.” Brain soured.

“Are we in trouble?” Pinky asked worriedly. The taller mouse paced back and forth on the chair as he started to panic. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m innocent, I tell you! Innocent! You can’t make me go back to the big house!”

“No, I can assure you that you’re not in any serious trouble.” The CEO told the buck-toothed mouse.

Pinky was immediately relieved by the news. “Oh thank goodness.” He sighed. “Sorry if I got a little carried away there.”

“A little?” Brain snapped sardonically.

“Gentlemen,” Ms. Norita curtly alerted the mice, who gave her their undivided attention. “I’ve called you here because I have an important task for you to complete over the weekend. I have a very important business conference with some very important people in the Warner Brother’s office and I don’t want the Warner children to cause any problems. And since I became aware of your friendly rapport with the Warners, I have decided to give you two the important task of watching over the Warners starting tomorrow afternoon, where you will take care of them outside of the movie studio until Sunday evening.”

Pinky stood up and cheered. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun with the little angels over the weekend!”

Brain, on the other hand, was shocked that the CEO would disrupt his regular routine and plans for world domination, one of the few things he had complete control over.

The CEO confidently smiled, happy that at least one of them was on board. “And to sweeten the offer, I already booked a nearby hotel with five-star accommodations and you can use the company credit card for any additional payments over the weekend that aren’t related to world domination.” She said, showcasing the golden credit card. Pinky’s eyes glistened as he gazed at the card, clearly enamored by how shiny it was. Brain, however, let out a defeated groan since he couldn’t use the card for his own selfish purposes.

Ms. Norita continued to speak. “I sent you all the information in an email, and-”

“Why are you assigning us to complete this task?” Brain interrupted.

“Because I noticed how well you and your partner get along with the Warners.” The CEO answered with feigned enthusiasm. “And who can do a better job at watching those troublesome kids than people who could put up with their antics.”

Brain cringed when she referred to the energetic kids as mere troublemakers. He genuinely enjoyed being around the Warners ever since the original run of Animaniacs. He recalled the days where he and Pinky spared some of their free time to check in on the Warners. From sharing the same table during lunch hour to visiting them in their home in the water tower before sunset, when the mice had to leave for Acme Labs. Even though the kids had a knack for craziness, the Warners were genuinely good kids who craved validation and attention.

But despite being on good terms with the children, Brain was far too upset that his usual schedule had been suddenly modified by a force outside of his control. He didn’t want another chance to take over the world to skip off into the sunset.

“But Pinky and I already have plans for the weekend!” Brain argued. “And besides, shouldn’t you recruit a more qualified candidate like Bugs Bunny?”

“He’s busy filming for the Looney Tunes Cartoons and the new Space Jam movie.” Ms. Norita explained. “And what, may I ask, did you have planned for the weekend that’s so important to you?” She asked dryly.

“We were going to take over the world by making a crafts YouTube channel for the little kiddies!” Pinky answered.

“I think you can put your little pet project on hold,” Ms. Norita explained to the smaller mouse. “So I suggest you accept the task like the grown-up that you are or I’ll fire you, inform the press it was a matter of ‘creative differences’ and have Edgwin on board as your replacement.”

The two mice exchanged shocked and horrified glances at the sheer audacity the CEO had for even considering the idea of messing with their brilliant chemistry.

“Why would you do something so cruel!?” Pinky remarked, but Brain gently took the taller mouse’s hands into his own.

“Please, ignore my partner’s outburst, for I’m more than happy to cancel my weekend plans!” Brain exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. “After all, we do have the previous child-rearing experience, making us more than qualified for the job!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The CEO got up from her desk and walked over to the door, opening it up and gesturing the two mice to make their leave. “Have a fun weekend.”

Brain grabbed Pinky by the hand and they made their jump from the chair onto the floor. The pudgy mouse tugged his lanky partner as they exited her office.

Once the mice were gone, Nora Rita Nortita retrieved her cell phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found the name she was looking for.

Inside the water tower, Wakko and Dot were watching a competitive baking show on Netflix while Yakko was snug in his ball pit bed, watching a shounen anime that Wakko constantly infodumped on his tablet while eating a bag of potato chips. While he initially watched the show so he could better connect with his sibling, the eldest Warner became emotionally invested in the story. As the big fight scene was about to start, he felt his smartphone vibrate in his pocket. The eldest Warner fished out his phone, saw Nora Rita Nortita’s picture on the home screen. He pressed pause on his tablet and quickly answered the call.

“Yello, Warner residence! Totally responsible young adult Yakko Warner speaking!” He answered, trying to sound as mature as possible.

“Hi, this is Nora Rita Norita.” The CEO answered. “And I have some rather exciting news to deliver.”

“Oh?” Yakko replied in a casual tone.

“As you may know, I will be holding an incredibly important conference this weekend, so I assigned Pinky and The Brain to watch over you and your siblings at a five-star hotel this weekend.”

“Really!?” Yakko asked with child-like enthusiasm. “Pinky and The Brain are taking us to a fancy hotel this weekend! Oh man, that’s fantastic news!”

Wakko and Dot paused their show and immediately rushed over to their brother’s bedside upon hearing the words ‘Pinky’, ‘The Brain’ and ‘fancy hotel’.

“The mice will pick you up tomorrow in front of the water tower at noon, and you better not come back to the studio lot at any point before Sunday evening.” The CEO informed him.

“You kidding? We rarely get to hang out with those guys, considering how busy they are trying to take over the world. So we intend to cherish every waking second with those two!” Yakko answered.

“Great,” Norita drawled. “I’m sure the five of you will have a grand old time this weekend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a power-meeting to attend.”

Yakko heard the phone click on the other end, but he was too excited by the news to care about the CEO’s rude behavior. “Hey sibs! We’re spending the weekend with Pinky and the Brain!” The eldest Warner proclaimed. Wakko and Dot cheered uproariously, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Say, do you two remember during the original run of Animaniacs when those two would usually hang out with us on the studio lot whenever we weren’t filming for the show?” Yakko asked his siblings, feeling rather nostalgic.

“Like how we’d sit at the same table at the commissary during lunchtime and they’d swing by the water tower?” Wakko reminisced. “Or how Pinky would make us bowls of macaroni and cheese, and Brain would read me my favorite picture books!” He reached into their hat and took out The Very Hungry Caterpillar and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

“Or the times I’d give Pinky makeovers, and how we would pester Brain into taking us to McDonald’s!” Dot added as she eagerly clapped her hands.

“Ah, those were the days!” Wakko blissfully sighed.

“And not only do we get to relive those days again, but we’ll be staying at a luxury hotel! It’ll be like having a weekend-long sleepover!” Dot exclaimed.

“Well sibs, I think it’s best if we start packing!” Yakko declared. The three siblings immediately took out their suitcases and began to pack away their essentials for their weekend vacation.

Yakko put in a dozen pairs of brown slacks into his brown suitcase. Wakko took the refrigerator and stuffed it into their blue suitcase. Dot placed her finest attire into her purple suitcase.

As the Warners continued to pack, they fondly remembered the good times during the original run of Animaniacs. While Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were mostly on their own, there were a handful of adults who spent quality time with them. Bugs Bunny, Slappy Squirrel, and Pinky and The Brain were their usual suspects. Bugs and Slappy usually entertained the kids with stories from the golden age of their careers and gave them helpful advice on thriving in the industry. Pinky and The Brain, however, proved to be a rare exception, since they’re genetically-altered lab mice and not technically toons. Regardless of their status, the mice would usually check in on the kids, make friendly conversation and share gossip, and indulge in their interests. But the mice always made sure to leave before the twilight, since they had to return to the lab and develop their schemes for world domination. And, like Bugs and Slappy, the mice never talked down to them and always treated them with kindness and respect.

The Warners were eager to spend quality time with the mice once again.

- - - - -

By the time evening rolled around, the mice returned to Acme Labs. When they arrived in their humble abode in the green cage, Brain decided to take some time to cope with the drastic change in his routine schedule by engaging in his deep breathing exercise. During his moments of self-reflection, Pinky looked on at his partner with loving eyes, proud that he was applying the techniques he learned from therapy through his own volition. The lanky mouse then put on his frilly green apron and scurried outside the cage to make his world-famous no-bake cheesecake for his roommate.

Once Brain completed his mindful exercise, he came to the realization that he can make the most out of the weekend. He would receive some fulfillment from seeing Pinky happy. Additionally, spending time with the Warners would guarantee to bring some excitement to his nearly absent social life, and there was also the possibility that some of their antics could be a source of inspiration for potential plans for world domination. Everybody would win in this situation!

The mouse immediately went over to his tablet and began to conduct his research on the hotel and potential activities to do over the weekend. Finally accepting his role as weekend guardian, he was not going to do a sloppy job with the task he was assigned.

“What common activities do most American families engage in during the weekend?” Brain pondered aloud. “Oh, I know, a trip to the library or an afternoon at the local park,” He muttered as he jotted down his thoughts on notebook paper. Then there were activities that required monetary exchange. Knowing that he would have full access to the company credit card, he was definitely going to have a field day with treating everyone to expensive spending sprees. Trips to the mall if the kids wanted anything in particular. Even splurging on the finest toy clothes that Pinky and himself would love to add to their wardrobes. Brain was also wildly determined to have at least one fancy fine-dining experience over the weekend!

Just as Brain neared completion in devising his plans and contingency plans for the weekend, Pinky arrived, carrying a big plate of cheesecake over to the wooden spool.

“Oh Brain, I made you your favorite!” Pinky called out whilst flirtatiously fluttering his eyes.

The pudgy mouse placed his work aside and eagerly rushed over to the makeshift table, where Pinky finished setting two additional plates and silverware. The lanky mouse gave his roommate a generous slice of cheesecake before taking a smaller portion for himself. Taking a fork, Brain scooped a piece of his cheesecake and ate it. The mouse was in a state of euphoria, savoring the scrumptious dessert. After allowing the cheesecake to melt into his mouth, he swallowed the pastry and let out a contented hum.

“Pinky, your pastries are simply divine!” Brain complimented.

Pinky blushed at the praise he received. “Aw Brain, I’m just happy that you like my cooking. Zort!”

Brain took a napkin and wiped away the crumbs from the sides of his mouth. He decided to engage in some amiable small talk. “So Pinky, are you looking forward to our mini-vacation tomorrow?”

“Oh yes! I’m going to have a fun-fun, silly-willy time watching over the kids!” The lanky mouse cheered. But his grin slowly faded into a worrisome frown. “But Brain, while I was preparing the cheesecake, Jerry the Gerbil dropped by and he told me that the scientists were planning a big, month-long separation experiment starting Saturday!”

“A month-long separation experiment?” Brain repeated with great concern.

Pinky nodded. “He said that the scientists would take some of the rodents that roomed together and place them in different parts of the lab, where they would write about our emotions and stuff!”

“That’s terrible news.” Brain remarked. “And what serendipitous timing…”

“What do you mean, Brain?” Pinky inquired. He was surprised to see his roommate take his hands into his own.

“Since we’ve been tasked to supervise the Warners over the weekend, we needn’t worry about the experiment.” Brain consoled his roommate as he caressed Pinky’s hands. “We would be outside of the lab during the beginning phase of the experiment and by the time we return, the scientists would have already selected the other poor souls residing in the lab as their test subjects, and we would avoid any emotional trauma that would come from participating in the cruel test in its entirety.”

“Oh, that’s a relief!” Pinky sighed.

“So there’s no need to dwell on such things, Pinky.” Brain soothed. “Try to divert all of your energy and attention on preparing for our little trip.”

“Right-o!” Pinky concurred with renewed enthusiasm. The mouse released himself from Brain’s hold and retrieved his floral printed suitcase.

“Now make sure to pack all your essentials,” Brain commanded. “I have a feeling that we are about to have an unforgettable weekend.”

AN: Another quick chapter that’s essentially build-up for what’s to come. When it came to writing Brain’s initial refusal to take the job, I felt like having him freak out over not having control over his regular routine is more in-character to him, plus with the added stakes of the CEO threatening to fire him. So he just swallows his pride and tries to make the most out of the situation.

I also included one of my other headcanons where The Warners had a handful of toon guardians who checked in on them on a regular basis (Pinky and the Brain, Slappy Squirrel, Bugs Bunny) because they’re well aware of how poorly the industry treats people like them and they want to make sure that the kids are okay.

Jerry the Gerbil was actually a reference to the Pinky and The Brain episode ‘The Family That Poits Together, Narfs Together’. We don’t see him at all, but Brain and Pinky reference him. Plus it seemed like the most logical choice to have Pinky get the news of the experiment from another rodent in the lab. And yes, this plot point will come back into play later in the story.

And I also wanted to have a scene where Pinky makes cheesecake for Brain, as a nice little nod to Future Brain (which is easily my favorite segment from the reboot) and I love the idea of Pinky baking food for Brain, and it gave me a great excuse to write some domestic bliss between the two!

And I want to give a special thanks to @themurphyzone for beta reading this chapter!

The next chapter will be considerably longer, so it may take a bit to post it up, but it’s full of fluff and fun bonding scenarios.

Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #fanfiction #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner

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leelysian · 4 years

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Changbin as your older brother AU 💖✨

genre: fluff, bullet point fic

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Changbin. This work is purely fiction and my own idea. I took inspiration from his on screen persona. Please do not translate or re-upload my work.

A/N: hi :) Sorry if this is kinda bad. I’m running out of ideas for this series(?). It’s really hard to write these aus for the members when there’s limited knowledge about them and when you’re trying to make everything seem different without making it seem like they’re all one dimensional and cut from the same cloth. Thank you to everyone who has been reading these older brother aus and thank you for being patient. Please leave some feedback, it really keeps me going. ❤️

☆ Let’s start with you as babies.

☆ Changbin would for sure as kiddy questions like “How did the baby get inside mummy’s tummy?” “When will baby come out?” “How does baby poop?”

☆ Your parents either answered him vaguely or somehow dodged his questions.

☆ Would sleep in your parents bedroom close to your mum to protect her baby bump.

☆ Would be hella excited to feel you kick in your mum’s tummy.

☆ Would say cute things to the baby bump. “Come out quickly baby I can’t wait to play with you.” “We can play with *insert favourite toy* together.” “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” I am close to tears

☆ Doesn’t care about the gender.

☆ When you were born, he was extremely excited to see you but little Binnie patiently waited till your parents had their moment first until they ushered him to the hospital bed.

☆ He was wide eyed as he held you as if scared to hurt you. He smiled when he stroked your cheek with a finger and smiled wider when you grabbed onto his finger.

☆ CUDDLES, CUDDLES AAAAAAAND MORE CUDDLES

☆ Tried to help your parents take care of you but most of the time failed.

☆ *tries to put pants on you* *gets kicked in the face instead*

☆ The only thing he could properly do was cuddle you as he fed you a bottle and somehow you ate properly if he was the one feeding you when you were being fussy.

☆ *you two fall asleep while he’s holding you*

☆ Adoring/curious stares.

☆ Fed you a bit of lemon for jokes when you were starting to grow teeth and had the time of his fricking life when he saw your reaction.

☆ I’m talking the kind of laughs he does with his whole body.

☆ Helped you learn how to walk patiently. Just laughed when you fell on your butt.

☆ Taught you how to high 5 at a very young age.

☆ You talked to him a lot. Not like he understood what you said because it was mostly babbling but it was fun for both of you.

☆ You broke a lot of his toys. He’d get upset until he got new ones.

☆ The one toy he never shared with you was Gyu, his plushie.

☆ Fast forward you’re older and know how to walk and talk coherently, Changbin is a kid.

☆ Changbin wants cookies but they’re on the top shelf and your mum purposefully put them there so neither of you could reach.

☆ “Changbin what are you doing?”

☆ Changbin: 👀

☆”I’m gonna tell mum~”

☆ “NO DON’T. If you help me, I’ll give you a cookie then you have to promise me you won’t tell mum.”

☆ Your smart ass contemplated for a few seconds before you agreed, “Ok what do we do?”

☆ “If I lift you up can you grab the jar? Don’t drop it.”

☆ “Yes.”

☆ Somehow both of you managed to retrieve the jar unscathed. Why none of you thought to grab a chair and do it, I don’t know.

☆ One cookie turned to two then three until the jar was half empty and your dad caught you.

☆ Everyone except you two with crumbs around your mouths in the room:️

👁️👄👁️

☆ Your dad walked in with brooding eyes. He grabbed a cookie and started eating quietly, “It’s a secret.”

☆ All three of you smiled happily and continued munching on the cookies.

☆ Until a while later your mum walked in and gasped, “YOU ATE ALL THE COOKIES?! *insert dad’s name* YOU WERE IN ON THIS TOO!”

☆ The three of you gulped nervously until you said, “No mum look! We saved a few for you!” The three of you smile innocently.

☆ Your mum sighed and smiled exasperatedly. “This is the last time.” A chorus of agreement sang throughout the room yet nobody meant a single word.

☆ Most of the time you two were hyperactive and played around so much you’d be knocked out cold by the time it was around 9 pm.

☆ Your parents had to lug you to your shared room.

☆ You two played tag a lot, he was really fast so you’d always get tagged very quickly.

☆ HIDE AND SEEK

☆ Running. So much running. You’re the hyper kids.

☆ Rock paper scissors. Winner flicks the loser’s forehead. Changbin always took the penalty but never really doled it out on you, if he did it wasn’t too hard.

☆ Races. “LAST ONE IS A ROTTEN EGG!”

☆ Changbin could easily win, but sometimes he slowed down purposefully to let you win for a change.

☆ Giggles. Giggles everywhere. Giggles all the time.

☆ Pillow forts in your room.

☆ Tickle fights.

☆ Cuddling together while watching cartoons.

☆ You thought he was cool.

☆ He liked you thinking so highly of him.

☆ Made him want to be even cooler for you.

☆ He’d ruffle your hair playfully.

☆ He’d pinch your nose. “AAAAHHH”

☆ He’d pull your hair.

☆ PIGGY BACK RIDES!!!!!!!!!

☆ Such a joker. It was harmless fun.

☆ Once you doodled on his school notes. He got mad and stopped talking to you.

☆ He rarely got angry at you, sure you two bickered sometimes and sometimes got whiny at each other.

☆ You apologised with a treat you got, instead of eating it by yourself, you gave it to him as a peace offering.

☆ He didn’t eat it himself, he shared. “It’s okay just don’t do it again. These are important. You’ll know when you get older.”

☆ “Ok. I’m sorry.”

☆ Things became alright again.

☆ Fast forward you’re tweens/teens/young adults.

☆ The dynamic is wild.

☆ You two would always goof around like idiots.

☆ Changbin annoyed you a lot.

☆ “Y/N look over there!” you’re stuck in visible confusion. *smacks your head and runs*

☆ “CHANGBIN!”

☆ You’re eating chips. “Y/n what’s that?” “What’s what?” *steals bag*

☆ “When are you gonna stop tricking me?”

☆ “When are you gonna stop falling for that?”

☆ You get pissed.

☆ Then it escalates into a wrestling match until ultimately you get hurt and start nearly crying in pain.

☆ “FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY HERE YOU CAN HIT ME BACK. PLEASE DON’T TELL MUM! PLEASE STOP CRYING!”

☆ You’re watching tv peacefully. Changbin walks in with a nerf gun/water gun. “REACH FOR THE SKY!”

☆ The living room turns into a warzone or a set for mission impossible.

☆ You ‘borrow’ his clothes. “Y/N STOP STEALING MY SHIT!”

☆ He ‘borrows’ your charger. “GET YOUR OWN CHARGER CHANGBIN!”

☆ He casually strolls into the living room, sits next to you with feet propped up on the table, snatches the remote when you’re not looking and changes the channel.

☆ “HEY I WAS WATCHING THAT!”

☆ “Well too bad. I don’t wanna watch it.”

☆ “GIMME THE REMOTE!” “No :}”

☆ Another wrestling match for the remote.

☆ You hide his glasses. Basically keep them with you.

☆ “Hey y/n have you seen my glasses?” “Nope.”

☆ He looks EVERYWHERE.

☆ You keep them on top of the tv when he’s away. “Hey Changbin found it on the tv.”

☆ “That’s weird I don’t remember putting them there. The heck?”

☆ “Maybe you’re just losing your mind. Already becoming an oldie?”

☆ “I may be old but I can still kick your ass.”

☆ You’re the younger sibling that either grows up to the same height as him quicker or grows taller than him somehow.

☆ He hates it. You thrive on it. “Hehe shortie. Can you even reach?”

☆ So he started working out to tone up.

☆ You’re barely able to lift a heavy box. He picks it up with ease. “Do you even lift?”

☆ He’s washing the dishes. You leave your dish for him and sneak out. “Y/N! I SWEAR-”

☆ You have a lit music taste because of him.

☆ You’re sleeping, he’s up early. You need to go to school. Instead of waking you up like a normal person, he pulls the blankets completely off of you and tackles you. “Y/N WAKE UP!”

☆ “CHANGBIN YOU CRAZY BASTARD! DO YOU WANNA DIE?!”

☆ You two are eating. He’ll finish eating seemingly at the speed of light and stare at you eating. “I’m not sharing.”

☆ “I didn’t say anything.”

☆ awkward silence

☆ You pass your food to him. “You owe me, pabbit (pig + rabbit)”

☆ Both of you forget about it later on.

☆ He’s hella clumsy.

☆ He’d definitely break a glass or plate or vase.

☆ He’s the type to fix something just enough to make it seem not broken so the next person who uses it would think they broke it.

☆ Anything to not get his ass handed to him by mummy dearest.

☆ You do this thing to annoy him which is basically mock/copy him when he tells you something.

☆ “Hey you know-” “Hey you know-” “you know that-” “you know that-” this continues a few more times until he screams and tackles you.

☆ You did this thing where you literally jumped on his back when he was unaware and you'd stick to him. The scream was worth bursting your eardrums. Worked every time.

☆ He was built he could carry you.

☆ Another thing is copying his actions.

☆ He yawns, you yawn. He scratches his nose, you copy. He stretches, you stretch. He shifts, you copy.

☆ “STOP COPYING ME!” “Stop copying me” “I said STOP COPYING ME!” “I said stop copying me!”

☆ “I hate you.” “I love you too bro.”

☆ His friends like you and a lot of times you hang out with him and his friends.

☆ He wears the weirdest stuff just for shits and giggles.

☆ “Hey y/n.” “What?” you look at him and burst out laughing.

☆ Where he got a shark head mask, you had no idea. You had tears running down your face as he started to sing and sexy dance to baby shark.

☆ “STOP I’M GONNA PEE!”

☆ You two say the darndest things.

☆ “I just realised- if vampires can’t go out in the sunlight then wouldn’t the moonlight kill them too?

☆ “How?”

☆ “Moonlight is just the sunlight shining from behind the moon dumbass.”

☆ “Oh shit you’re right.”

☆ Another example of this would be:

☆ “The hospital is the only place you leave without entering.”

☆ Both of you: 👁️👄👁️

☆ You’re eating watermelon. You bite some of the white bit.

☆ “I just realised the worst part of the watermelon tastes like a cucumber.”

☆ awkward silence “wait you’re right.”

☆ “Anyways, here you can wash the plates.”

☆ “Y/N!”

☆ AEGYO FLUFFY GOODNESS

☆ Will use everything in his cuteness arsenal to get what he wants.

☆ You hate to admit it actually works sometimes.

☆ “Y/n~ pleeeaaaseee get me some cookies.”

☆ “No.”

☆ He keeps whining and rocking or shaking you. “PLEEEEAAAAAASEEE”

☆ “FINE!”

☆ Who’s really the older sibling and who’s really the younger sibling?

☆ “You know you could’ve just gotten them yourself with the time it took you to annoy me into getting them for you?”

☆ He just smiles toothily.

☆ “If you could choose between a giant me or 5 mini me’s which would you choose?”

☆ “Neither I’d rather die.”

☆ “Y/N! WHYYYYY” he whines and shakes you.

☆ He’s always there for you when you need him the most. He’ll always comfort you with tight hugs.

☆ He’s the type of person to make silly jokes and make you smile or laugh to make you feel better instead of sort of brooding with you.

☆ This is only acceptable with him, if anyone else tried to be goofy when you were upset it wouldn’t work.

☆ Because it’s Changbin’s thing. Only he has that power.

☆ You rarely see him upset. He’s always smiling, joking around and acting cute.

☆ One time, really late at night you saw him in the kitchen sitting with a glass of milk. He hadn’t noticed you.

☆ This was off putting because you rarely saw him this quiet. He’s always laughing and loud.

☆ He was staring off in the distance, the glass gathering condensation from being out of the fridge and into warm temperature.

☆ “Can’t sleep?” He was startled and shook his head no. “What’s on your mind?”

☆ “It’s nothing.” You sat with a glass of water. “You know you can tell me, right?”

☆ “I know I just don’t wanna bother you.” he said and this confused you. “Why would you be bothering me? That’s absurd.”

☆ He shrugged, “I dunno, seems like all I do is annoy people these days.”

☆ You pat his back. “Hey, that’s not true. Well it only applies to me because you’re my sibling. That’s a thing. Is there anything specific you’re talking about?”

☆ He stays quiet for what seems like the longest time until he unloads.

☆ You’re not good with words like he is. You try your best to listen and give sensible input.

☆ Changbin admired that about you. Despite being younger, you were sometimes mature and understanding. You were authentic, you never tried to be something you weren’t.

☆ Which is why he always valued your words.

☆ Afterwards if he had anything on his mind, sometimes he’d vent to you.

☆ You the ability to make his insecurities disappear simply because he feels stupid for the way he thinks when he talks to you.

☆ You make his problems miniscule, not in a belittling way but in a way that makes him realise how things could be different or done differently.

☆ Your sense of perception was something amazing.

☆ This is why Changbin believed you were the best sibling he could ask for.

☆ But little did he know, you wouldn’t be able to function properly if he wasn’t the goofy, silly, clumsy, idiotic Changbin who exists today.

☆ He’s just the right type of flavour you need in your bland life.

☆ don’t be shy put some more.

☆ He’s the right balance of a clown, a baby and a guardian angel.

☆ He’s extremely caring, loyal, kind hearted and annoying.

☆ You’d change absolutely nothing.

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icarusthelunarguard · 3 years

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This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

Aries

Now would be a good time to check your tax status, Aries. Have you been withholding enough money so you don’t have to pay at the end of the year? Better yet, are you setting it up so you’ll be able to buy a new video card with the rebate you’ll get? Yeah, good luck with THAT!

Taurus

Hank Green said in a tweet, “I know three phone numbers. Mine, my wife’s, and my third grade girlfriend Amanda’s.” Little did he realize he also knew Jenny’s number, too! The point is, Taurus, you know more than you give yourself credit for… Including Jenny’s number.

Gemini

Last week we suggested using a 3D printer to, Quote, “make one yourself”, Unquote. To be clear we were suggesting you 3D print a Kiddie-Pool, not Kids or Pets. Since so many of you Geminids had a problem with that Horrible-Scope, we’re gunna suggest you STOP trying to print whoever it is you’re trying to print.

Cancer Moon-Child

You are not a control freak. You just know what you want, how you want it, and who’s best suited to get it to you. See? You’re not a control freak: you’re greedy. Totally different! Tell everyone who says you are to Bugger Off!

Leo

Invest in a Yo-Yo this week. It’ll help with your hand-eye coordination, bring back memories of the old Smothers Brothers skits, and give you something to do on the weekends. If you’re still as bad at it as we think you are, you might want to see where you can get your fingers splinted before you start.

Virgo

The fraud detection department at your bank is so done with checking on your spending habits. Last week it was “Rock, Paper, Scissors” to see who had to call and check your purchases. Now they’ve devolved to using “Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock”, except for Tim who plays with a Derringer. (*Everybody Say SARCASTICALLY*) “ThAnKs, TiM”.

Libra

With your left shoulder’s ACL still on the mend, there’s not much you can do jobwise. BUT! We found something you can do anyway. Take mass transit to the biggest local mall and take some surveys! Those people are always looking for new people to interview and you might get some cool swag out of the deal.

Scorpio

About that suggestion that waterskiing was a safer alternative than snow skiing… Sorry about that. But, really, what were the odds you’d run into a pod of dolphins… or, more specifically, that they’d jump out of the water and run into you? Maybe reading on the beach is the way to go, now.

Sagittarius

This week the stars are telling you, “No.” No more fun food, no more practical jokes, no more photoshopping Skeletor dolls into family vacation photos for profit, and no renting Fiat 500’s so you can drive under moose legs at night! Just… NO!

Capricorn

Things change, slowly, right in front of your eyes. You think Rome was built in a day or the Great Pyramid of Giza in a week or the Grand Canyon carved in a fortnight? Even love takes time, and it's hard to find. You gotta take some time to let love grow.

Aquarius

Your troublesome neighbors won’t be a problem anymore. Something about a grease fire in the kitchen at 2 a.m. and a faulty fire extinguisher. Let’s just say you’ll sleep better now, and Wendy’s has the BEST ice cream machines! Never broken, even at 2 a.m.

Pisces

Insisting people send you important documents via FAX is petty as hell. It used to be a way of scanning an original document and remote printing it via standard telephone service. This is not, functionally, any different than photographing the document with a smart phone and emailing the image to someone. We’ve already proven that Morse Code can send information faster than text messaging, but do YOU want to learn how to use a Vibra-Bug? Didn’t think so. Di-Di-Di-Dah-Di-Dah.

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iguessishouldbethankful · 5 years

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Sly Cooper 1 Review:

As in, I recently completed the game and since I was asked to, I will give my review on it. I’m a little nervous because this is the first time I’m doing this, so hopefully I’ll get this right.

KEEP IN MIND: I did not grow up with this series, and I am going in after @oroanillado gifted me the entire series for the PS3. I am a new fan who basically grew up on Nintendo products, so my views might come off differently.

ALSO: SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Onto the review.

0. Initial Reaction:::::::::::::::::::::::::

I was pretty surprised how the game collection required no download or installation. So that was a good little bonus as I could immediately sit down and play it without much of a wait. As for the starting point on top of the roof... lemmie say that Sly is adorable at first glance. His movements are fluid and it’s very satisfying to control him--especially the fact that he has a bass sound to his steps that is beyond addictive. I love it.

Not to mention the music is nice. Not exactly as memorable, but I can listen to it and it does give the area a feel.

And then Bentley opened his mouth. Whew boy. Okay. Rok heard my live commentary every time he opened his mouth, so it’ll be a theme. It wasn’t that bad at first though so it’s mostly me wanting to explore the Police Station. It’s mostly a tutorial level so it’s nothing impressive, just giving the feels.

When Carmelita showed up, like expected, I was stunned by two things: she owns an extra fancy taser gun, and that slow as fuck taser gun is able to cause the destruction of public and private property as a massive scale. Ma’am, can we talk? Can you not blow up the cars?? LADY-

As for the comic style animation? Yes, perfect. I was looking forward to it and was not disappointed. I love the cartoony look it gives to the whole world. Which is something else I noticed--the feel and look of the game is very much like the love child of Banjo Kazooie and Psychonauts. The colors and collectathon.

Also the character motivations for Sly, Bentley and Murray are believable. All are orphans, and Sly saw his family get killed but the bad guys and the family book of thieves stolen. Carmelita? Eh, wish I had more context to her but good cop trying to catch the robber is good enough.

Note: I had no idea Carmelita was actually someone that worked for Interpol. My dumbass thought she was just a French cop. The more you know.

As for the hub safehouse area, it’s simple and direct to the point.

Okay. We good? Now onto the levels.

1. Tide of Terror:::::::::::::::::::

Sly dies in one shot.

No. This was okay. I was determined to find out how I could get around this. I explored the initial open area, collecting the coins and trying to get the bottles because I knew that the point of the games was to collect all pages, right? So I needed the bottles to get the clues so Bentley could give me the code. Thing is, I ran into a few problems on the get go. BESIDES SLY BEING A ONE HIT WONDERBOY.

I didn’t know I could pimp whack enemies with the cane. So I see this walrus looking mofo just hammering away on a boat and I’m like... How do I not aggro this dude. Keep to myself, reach areas I new I could jump to, and... OH FUCK THERE ARE BOTTLES ON THAT BOAT GOD DAMN IT! Fine. Let’s sneak in. By sneak I mean run around the walrus and realize that the guy just sees me and hammers harder. What? Okay then he doesn’t chase me. Get the bottles, realize after 5 minutes that Sly’s pimp ass cane can in fact obliterate the ship’s pole to get the last bottle, before trying to confront the walrus.

So I died the first time. Then I smacked him. You know, for a one hit wonder as Sly is, I appreciate that the enemies are the same as well. That balanced everything out and not made it a colorful furry version of Dark Souls. So off I go. Up the ladder and jumping right into the second area where there are search lights. I’m like okay, let me go around these and--

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ROSE BUSH KILLED SLY?!

GOD DAMN IT!!

Yes, a lot of this happened. It has been a while since I played a colorful game like this and I a lot of this is simple designing that is obvious, but I am also someone that enjoys finding other ways to get around them. So many choices in the game seems nonsensical. A raccoon unable to brush by some thorn bushes was rather hilarious. I was basically fussing at full volume while Rok was laughing at me. Which was good, I meant to be hilarious.

I discovered the wonders that were the search lights and that they are easily turned off in the small sections. That I could in fact dodge most attacks from the minor enemy characters. Realized that this damn raccoon cannot swim to save his damn life. LITERALLY.

kjsdbkjsd And then I realized that I was missing quite a few bottles once I got to the end. I was frustrated. I wanted to get them all already. So I went back and tried figuring out how to get them and I SWEAR TO GOD I CANNOT EVEN LOOK AT THE SAFE WITHOUT BENTLEY GOING “YOU DON’T HAVE THE BOTTLES NEEDED TO OPEN IT U-”

Bro. Bro I know. Bro please.

Shut the fuck up.

Got the bottles and moved on. Found out that I absolutely adore Sly being in a barrel and wanted to take that barrel with me everywhere but I couldn’t. Realized that Sly puts come paper cuts outs of his emblem in opened up safes and--can we talk about this? Does Sly just sit in his room with colored craft paper and cuts these out every night? Does he redo them if one comes out funky? Does he get glittery paper or is it like the kiddy kind? Does he do them in the van? Is it with scissors or an x-acto knife?! How do you make these bro you don’t simply walk into a FedEx’s Kinkos to print these out!

Anyway, I’m learning more tricks as I go along, getting all of the keys and bottles and I do go back to each stage to get all of the damn bottles because I am not leaving one behind because I really want all of the pages. I am also seeing all of the death animations Sly does and honestly, the humor in each of them is not lost on me at all. I adore them. The first time I saw him just realizing he’s gonna fall to his death and he just-

I busted laughing so hard and Rok got to hear me lmao oh my god-- But for real, most of his death animations are strangely adorable in my opinion. Especially when he just falls and his little leg twitches. They never made animations like that for other games I played so far (not even for Banjo Kazooie). And the lightness of everything makes it less frustration in my opinion. As though I had no problem if Sly died along the way. Whereas I would get way more frustrated with how Mario or Banjo would die.

Anyway those are my tidbits. But lemmie tell you something.Once I got to the last stage where I needed to get the 7 keys to access the final boss? There’s a treasure chest with crabs mini games.

FUCK. THAT. GAME.

The only reason I got through it was because I’m stubborn and I distracted my frustrations in my chat with Rok as I had this damn raccoon swim around in a submarine, killing about 100 crustaceans just for 40 chests!! 40! Not a normal number like 20 or 25. No. 40. That drove me nuts for some reason.

Anyway, finally got to the final boss after I collected all the horseshoes and lives around the main hub of the level, and then yeeted Sly from the canon ALA Wind Waker style.

Raleigh is freaking gross. Not in voice, but his animation made me feel really nasty with looking at him, which in my opinion was a good visual design and motivator to get rid of him faster. It was also easy to sort of find out what the boss fight was requiring from me in the end--making it so much easier as well. I guess for a kid it’s a bit more difficult and I can understand that. I just enjoyed the fights for having a repetitive nature that was satisfying. Like even if I died many times, the game didn’t throw me all the way out of the level at all. It restarted the fight from the beginning and that, to me, was a good way to introduce me to the entire function of a Sly Cooper 1 boss fight.

I felt happy when I defeated Raleigh. And of course, Sly isn’t a “killer” so froggo dude is still alive, just in prison after “HOT LATIN FOX LADY” caught him. Of course. Can someone tell me where Carmelita is from? Is she Spanish or Mexican or..? Like was that defined by the games or was it thrown up in the air?

Anyway, onto the next level.

2. Sunset Snake Eyes:::::::::::::::::::::

Lemmie just say that I actually enjoyed Mugshot’s backstory? It made me feel really sympathetic towards him in a way.... Despite him being a murderer but you know. It was a nice touch.

Okay so, are any of you familiar with the whole “Mickey Mouse is taking his dog Pluto for a walk” dilemma? Well, I had a moment like that as well in this section. Why? Because Mugshot has feral dogs all over his turf and that messes me up a lot for some reason. Like I always wondered how, evolutionary wise, can an anthro dog and a feral dog look so similar? I had a moment like that as well when reading Farewell, Beloved Falco. There was a feral pig in that comic and it bother the fuck out of me. But it didn’t impede me from playing the game.

The look was very much classical American desert wasteland in the middle of nowhere. Possibly southwest USA if I were to guess, and I liked the feel of the casinos and run down RVs, trailers and cars. However it made me question why this place was a junkyard almost if he kinda has a functioning casino. For Raleigh I could understand because it was a hideout, you do what you can right? Even if you have a fucking floating metal blimp over your hideout, like that won’t catch military attention at all, nooooooo--

But like, an abandoned casino suggests that it was once owned by the mafia or a mob, and just--Okay. Police regulations and gun control. Etc etc, I’m rambling on about things that have nothing to do with the game. Back to the design.

Again, collecting all the bottles like a desperate AA member that needs a hit for old times sake and running back to open up the safe. Can I just say that the names of each Cooper ancestor is rather amusing? Like some have the most dumb but adorable names. Huckleberry Cooper jfc--

And once I got into the main hub, I got my first taste of the “Murray can’t think without his stomach thus gets himself in trouble and needs to race his Moon Rover turned into a Van to win one of the keys” mini game and “Bentley told me I gotta keep you alive as you run through this area full of trigger happy criminals, Murray, plEASE STOP RUNNING IN FRONT OF MY BULLETS MURRAY-” mini game. Nice. Not as bad as the 40 treasure chests crabs.

Also, why would Mugshot or his minions just leave a red sports car running on reverse for days on end?? Anyway.

The inside of the casino was a nice section to play ngl. I enjoyed that a lot. The platforming too, despite some of the bottles being utterly difficult to get without having to die and do the entire section again to get them. And then comes the level when Carmelita decides to destroy private property because she’s after this dumbass raccoon. I wonder how she felt seeing him jump around back and forth breaking bottles and dodging her SLOW AS FUCK TASER GUN.

“Could you stand still?!”

“Nope. Not my fault you couldn’t get a license for a firearm.”

Finally I got to the Mugshot boss fight and like the first one, it was a very satisfying fight. Mugshot had me in stitches because he walked around with his long ass arms instead of his legs at first like lmao! Also once I got to the final third stage, I was all cautious and excite to jump around the wires. Yessss.

Defeated, all bottles collected, Carmelita caught this villain as well, and off we go... stealing shit from the USA before coming back to the Safehouse? Alrighty then.

3. Vicious Voodoo:::::::::::::::

Let me tell you something about myself. I have an intense love for Voodoo in video games. Started with Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Father, Princess and the Frog and I had an intense call back to one of the swamp areas of Banjo Kazooie in this level.

So basically, this is my favorite level.

I think it’s also the level where I argued the most with Bentley as well. Or at least the second one because, since the very first game, he keeps repeating the same obvious commands all the time with a constant reminder of press the O button. Sly? Sly?? SLY! PRESS THE O BUTTON! Bentley? You’re cute, but you gotta stop my dude.

The sliding effect on the long branches was a lot of fun, the tree enemies that had more than one hit kills were also satisfying to beat the shit out of. I also enjoyed the general murky color of the level in general. Just the spooky was definitely my aesthetic. You know what wasn’t my aesthetic? The first mini game I ran into, which was the candle mini game where Bentley would repeat himself all the time right at the start of if you had to restart the level. I muted the entire thing and had Sly mindlessly killing the fishes to turn on the candles while blabbing to Rok on the phone so it was easier for me not to get nervous about the time limit or the amount of candles I had to turn on. It was the same thing with the Chicken Gumbo mini game, but I didn’t mute that one. Because Bentley stayed quiet.

Also, @oroanillado is the biggest troll. I was on the beast section of the game and they did not describe to me what it was like. So I’m honestly not expecting much at all, just wanted to grab my bottles and go. Once I’m halfway though, and I already saw the water moving around I’m having Amnesia the Dark Descent flashbacks like OH SHIT OH FUK O Shi- But no. No. What got to me was... This intensely huge serpent coming out of the water and chasing me and my camera kept pointing BACK instead of pointing forward so I could navigate Sly out of that mess while also getting the fucking bottles along the way!!

I was shrieking!! I have an acute fear of things that are larger than normal (it’s connected to my Agoraphobia). I have that with whales and sharks and fish, so I usually avoid big mobs if possible in any game. Yes, including the 3 mythical dragons from Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. @thekursedone-lylat was present when I was freaking out about saving Naydra and how huge it was. But at the same time I have a big fear of these sorts of creatures, I was laughing and cursing at the end of the level because honestly, Rok was having a good time and so was I.

Oh yes, also the other mini game where I had to navigate the same speed boat thingy and shoot down the on coming ghosts and flaming rocks was pretty annoying until I figured out I needed to destroy the pillars where the ghosts came from. Then it was easy.

But my absolute favorite section of this whole level was the Green Water Full of Body Parts and Bones. Bentley was losing his shit at the beginning of the level and I would accidentally yeet Sly into the water of decomposing bodies like yeah, yeah the turtle won’t like the smell of this. It was just a well designed level, so I had no problems having to redo it to get all the bottles again and again.

Now, the boss fight? I was warned about this ahead of time so I had to unfortunately put Mz. Ruby on mute so I would concentrate on her attacks but apparently they were supposed to go with the rhythm of the song and the Sly Cooper Collection messed that up? I think she was the only Boss I was really wanting to listen to as she talked because she was giving me good “yeah I’m bad, probably not the best one in the group, but I don’t care I’mma own up to it so try to dodge my attacks as best you can” vibes. It was also entertaining to see Sly go Neo with some of the commands.

All bottles collected and onto Winter in China.

4. Fire in the Sky::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Oh hey look, fireworks!

.....oh.

Surprisingly, this entire stage was rather meh to me? It worked like the others, felt like the others, but I really wasn’t as wowed by it. It might also be just the fact that I mostly saw white in general due to the snow, and spent most of my time looking for a few bottles on one section that really irritated me. Like I legitimately got mad in one section and didn’t want to deal with it because of the noises some of the monkeys were making.

This section. I hated it so much because I thought the bottles I was missing were in here and 2 of them were but I needed hints for it. Argh... Everything else in this section was pretty much a blur for me besides the two mini games with Murray, and the one level where Carmlita came back again, destroying more private and ancient property with her taser gun--and the main reason I remember this was because:

Carmelita saying she was going to catch criminal scum Sly and Sly just went “you really need to get woke, I’m not the bad guy here.”

I collected all the bottles but Bentley told me I had to defeat Clockwerk before I could open this damn safe, and it was the only one requiring this!!

Carmelita went down with the dragon statue, into the hypothermia levels of cold water while shaking her fist into the sky.

I will say the part of Sly and Bentley discussing the whole mechanics of Sly taking the rockets into Panda’s lair was pretty funny tho. Just,

Bentley: Hey you might be able to reach the top of the tower before these explode.

Sly: Okay but what if they explode before I get there?

Bentley: Then I guess you’ll blow up into many pieces.

Sly:

As for the Panda King boss fight, it was okay. I just kept running in circles around the arena while approaching the dude. Defeated him and was like okay, I really need to go and defeat Clockwerk now so I can open that safe.

5. The Cold Heart of Hate:::::::::::::::::::

Look.

I get Sly probably weighs next to nothing, Murray, but could you at least break once Sly gets knocked off the top of the van? Or when the rocks are falling down towards us, maybe also step on the breaks so not everyone is being driven to their ultimate death?

No?

Okay.

I will say, I headcanon that both Bentley and Sly were getting an intense case of whiplash when Murray was driving that van around at 120 MPH collecting all 60 computers because... Bentley needed those to hack into something??? It wasn’t as bad as the 40 crabs and treasure chests but man. And then of course there’s the section where, oh surprise surprise, Carmelita is in an obvious trap, slamming her fist on the glass, needing to be saved. Bentley warned Sly it was a trap. But of course Sly is like:

OH THANK GOD THE BARREL IS BACK.

Anyway, obvious trap is an obvious trap. Carm just bitches at Sly right as he gets stuck in the glass chamber and is sprayed with RAID. So Bentley has to save his ass. This is possibly the mini game I dislike the most. I just put Bentley on constantly circling mode as he shot down the targets.I died about 9000 times before I won.

Carmen is all Oh I was wrong about you the whole time Sly!

Sly: Duh.

And off we go to the next section where Sly lost his cane and he needs to recover it with Carm’s help. So I’m controlling Carm’s taser gun. Guess how many times I purposefully killed Sly? Many. For funsies. Because the gun magically got faster once I was behind the trigger.

Next section was the whole climb up the beam tower as it’s being consumed by lava! I very much enjoyed this whole climbing bit. It was fun. Again, died a lot and I actually glitched through the walls because I jumped somewhere I wasn’t supposed to and had to kill Sly along the way. But still very fun.

FINALLY.

CLOCKWERK.

Are we serious? Are we actually serious right now? Clockwerk had absolutely no motivation beyond ultimate hate? WHAT?! That’s just... not a satisfying reason ngl. Anyway, the jetpack flying section was probably the easiest thing ever and I loved it. What I didn’t like was the laser section that came after it... I kept dying. Again. FUCK. THOSE. LASERS.

Clockwerk speaking random little words while malfunctioning was super cute those. I don’t why, but I loved it. I was shrieking by the end of everything though because once I got right at the back end, where I’m supposed to jump on this mad owl, I was not expecting the head to jump on me. HHHHHHH!!!

Anyway, I killed Clockwerk dead. Back into the lava you go. Witnessed Sly give Carmelita the slip of the tongue and handcuffed her onto a railing over an active volcano before yeeting himself. Classy. Then back to his old tricks again with the gang. End credits.

NO WAIT.

The last chest. In the Panda section. Yeah I went back for that and got the extra ending.

0. MY RATING::::::::::::::::::::

Honestly, 8 trashcans out of 10. If Clockwerk actually had a believable motive besides hate, I’d give it a higher rating. But the game is satisfying and I love the mechanics of it.

Bentley just needs to chill the fuck up tho. God.

#sly cooper #sly cooper reviews #peep peep #long post

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har-rison-s · 5 years

Text

Run, Rabbit, Run

Request: I’m so glad you’re writing for stan!! could you maybe write a stan x reader where it’s when they are younger and it’s after the readers first encounter with pennywise and she’s freaking out so she goes to him for comfort? maybe including the babylove nickname because it’s canon and i love it!! thank you❤️

A/N: I'm glad, too. I love this one. I mean, okay, I say this about all the requests I get, but... that's the whole truth. I love all of them, each in their own unique way. I thought long and hard about the fear I could execute in this one. I've honestly also thought about what IT would turn into for me, but I can't 'decide' cos I have so many fears. I hope this turned out well and that I succeeded in making the fear... correct? Normal? Idk. My mom helped me with deciding the fear and how to execute it lmao. This was honestly hard to write. I've never written horror. Hope you like this, tho. Happy reading!

IT masterlist

main masterlist

warnings: horribly written fears and IT, panic attack

A Thursday afternoon in Derry High. Sun rays break through the long un-washed windows of the building, classrooms with thick air due to lack of air-conditioning. Quiet halls and classrooms. There's barely any soul in the high school left.

Y/N sadly got sick the previous week, so had to stay after classes to write a test she missed while sick. Her best friend Stanley was having piano lessons on Thursdays usually, enjoying the silence and the over-all deserted school building. He was the only pupil the music teacher taught piano, all the others uninterested or already good at piano. Most times Stanley even stayed until the sun started setting.

Y/N has just finished writing the test she missed out on last week and walks down the hall to the bathroom. She wants to change her hair before she leaves school today. Just get it out of the high ponytail and make a little one with the top half of her hair. A style that has suited her well her whole life. A signature hairstyle of hers.

She passes Stan's piano lessons class room and hears what he's playing very clearly. Anyone passing through this hallway would hear him playing, even from the other end. The music room has great acoustic in it. She smiles to herself and pushes the door of the girls' lavatory open, hearing its squeaks behind her when she enters the empty room.

A public bathroom in its natural element stinks horribly, but she still winces at the horrible stench. Even if she's got used to it by now.

Y/N carefully puts her bag down on the floor, choosing a spot on the tiles that wasn't covered in some suspicious liquid. It could be just water, but she doesn't want to risk it. She sighs as she looks in the mirror. This has been a long day and she's ready to head home.

She takes out her hair-tie and her scalp immediately breathes a sigh of relief. Today's ponytail was definitely a tight one. Her hair almost cries at the release. She smiles to herself tiredly.

As she starts picking out the hair strands to put up in a small bun, Y/N hears a sound similar to cracking, or maybe widning? Breaking? Where could it be coming from? She pays no mind to it, thinking someone's breaking tree branches outside.

The sound grows louder and Y/N furrows her eyebrows. Sounds like it's... coming from beneath her. She's a bit scared to check the floor, but when she does, she freezes in complete horror.

The former tile floor now looks like a forest's bed and instead of where the pipes should be under the sinks, there's wooden roots. Like the ones you see in the woods. Like the ones she's always been afraid of all her life, since she was a little kiddie.

Y/N tries to grab her bag, not believing her eyes but also not wanting to stay any longer and see the elaboration of the pipe-roots. But she feels something snaking around her right ankle and as she looks down on it, she cries out. One of the roots coming from under the sink have locked around her ankle and is slowly making its way up her leg.

Tears collect in her eyes and in such a big amount that they reach the brim and fall down on her cheeks, her dress, her hands and legs. She's in such a state of fear that she can't let out a sound. A silent panicking.

She tries to wriggle her foot out of the plant's grasp, but it's tight as hell. Y/N does what she can with her other foot still relatively free, reaching for her backpack. She knows she has scissors in her bag, she had arts and crafts today during Home Ed. They're in the outside pocket.

Her right hand is suddenly stopped, captured by a root that's coming out from the sink itself. Y/N's eyes widen even more, almost popping out of her skull. Physical terror almost takes over, but she makes for her backpack with her free left hand.

The moment she's got the scissors in her hand, she hears a giggle coming from behind her. Cold fright shakes her body. Should she even look behind her? Should she, for the best, close her eyes and wait for this nightmare to be over?

“Not such quick feet now, eh, Y/N?” An elderly, sort-of warped voice asks. It sends chills down her spine. No one even came in while she was here. Have they come through the window? And who are they?

She can't help her curious eyes looking up in the mirror. There she sees the most disturbing image a child could ever be beared to see. An at least six feet long... person in a clown costume is standing right behind her. Their skin is the palest white you could imagine. The lips and nose and eyes are crimson red. She hopes to the Gods that it's not blood on their face.

Their clown costume is dirty and very worn-out, looking decades old and over-used. The clown has orange hair that's sticking in the air, and wears a menacing smile. Their eyes are so big they look about to burst out, especially when they're each looking in their seperate direction.

Y/N screams and the clown laughs hysterically, and so loudly she feels like her ears and head would combust any second. She realises she needs to get herself free from the roots around her and bends down to start stabbing her scissors into the roots where they just barely are starting to wrap around her flesh. She's careful not to leave any self-injuries in the process. But it's hard to concentrate in this panic.

She's screaming and crying, afraid to death of the situation she's in. More and more roots start coming from all directions while the tall clown figure still laughs so horridly and terrifyingly. Y/N feels like she's spent, that she can't do this anymore, she can't free herself, that she'll give up and let whatever is bound to happen, happen.

“Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run,” the clown starts to sing when she's finally freed herself of all the roots and grabs her backpack, ready to make it out the door, “don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun! O-ho-ho!” The clown laughs again.

Y/N stops at the restroom door, looking at the room before her in horror. It's turning into a sort of nest, roots coming from every corner and inch, each of them wanting to grab onto some part of her. The clown stands right in the middle of it all, staring at her. She dodges the stretching roots best she can, but she won't be able to hold back for any longer.

“He'll get by without his Y/N-pie,” he continues, but his voice has dropped an octave or two, the smile no more on his horrid features, “so run, rabbit, run, rabbit,” he takes steps towards the young girl, terrifying her even more, “RUN! RUN! RUN!” He screams in the most agonising and horrible voice she's ever heard, also running towards her with sharp teeth coming from his mouth and an evil grimace twisting his face.

Despite what her better judgement might tell her later, she listens to the creature and really does run. Out the swinging door, into the hallway without looking back. She runs into the first safest room she knows. The music room.

She practically falls through the door with a big clutter noise and terrifies poor Stanley, who's sitting alone at the piano. His eyes are wide and he jumps in his seat with a little shocked gasp. He looks upon the frightened Y/N. She's almost fallen down to the floor, her back against the door, as if she's holding it closed. As if someone might try to break in.

Stanley stands up and jogs over to her. “What's wrong?” He asks, one hand out-stretched hesitantly to her. She looks at him.

“I was... I was... There were... All around me...” She tries to explain what's just happened to her, but she makes no sense to Stan. He frowns. She looks scared, terrified. Her eyes are moving at rapid speed in every direction.

Y/N falls down on the floor, her knees against her chest and hands covering her face. In fear or embarrassment? Stanley immediately sits down next to her, legs crossed, and leans closer to her. He puts his arm around her shoulders in an attempt of an embrace and she goes in, letting the embrace happen. Needing it badly.

“There were the—the roots everywhere.” She cries. “Around my leg, around my arm. Trapping me, holding me. I couldn't get out. They wanted to—they wanted to trap me, get in me. I couldn't—”

“You're safe now.” Stanley tells her and soothes her with gently rubbing her back with his arm.

“There was... There was a clown there.” She tells him. “In old clothes. With a white face and a horrible smile. He was singing.” Y/N says and breaks down in a seizure of cries and sobs. “And the roots wanted me! They wanted to get in me! Trap me!” She shouts.

Stanley tries to make sense of it all. Wonders if she was hallucinating, maybe someone drugged her? But no. What if it's just like the woman he saw? What if she did see... roots? Whatever that could mean. But it was a nightmare. It's not real.

She can't stop crying. She's been exposed to her biggest fear and she can't calm down. She can't find any extra air to breathe, she feels like she's suffocating, like she's never going to calm down. It's a feeling of... no hope that you'll ever smile again.

She can't calm down for another five minutes, at least. But Stanley stays put, holds her and listens to anything she tells him.

“Do you think it was a nightmare?” Y/N asks him in a quiet voice, looking afar.

“I believe so.” He replies. “It can't be real.” But is he trying to convince her or himself? Trying to calm himself down or, at last, her? “It was just like my nightmare with this... strange woman.”

Y/N looks at him, slightly pulling apart from their embrace. Her eyes and cheeks are red, she looks lost and scared to death, still. “What woman?” She asks.

Stanley looks down. “My dad has a painting of a weird-looking woman in his office. She was trying to attack me when I was there to put the Tora back. Her face is all... twisted. She had teeth. I just ran.” He says finally and looks at her again. “But she's not real. And what you saw isn't real, okay? It was a bad, a really bad nightmare.”

She doesn't nod, but she takes his word for it. “But why did I see all that? Why now?” She asks. Perhaps she doesn't direct her question towards Stan, but to herself or something that could answer it. She sighs. “Sorry for scaring you.” Y/N apologises and sniffs.

“Don't worry. I understand.” He tells her in response. “Do you—do you maybe want to hear something?” Stanley offers with a kind smile. She nods. Stanley playing piano sounds calming to her, and he plays so beautifully, after all.

Stanley helps her get up from the floor and gives her a tissue to wipe her face with, one from the tissue box he always has in the music room, lying around, just in case. Y/N takes her bag and puts it on a near-by desk.

Stan gets her a chair to sit on, putting it next to the piano, and sits down on the pianist stool. She sits down and puts her arm on the piano, resting her head in the palm of it. She watches him play one of Chopin's Nocturnes, watches his face change with every note he plays. He's careful not to mess up at any point. But she wouldn't think anything of it if he did.

She feels peaceful, calm. The soft sounds of the piano playing in a completely empty room and, probably, building, calm her down and make her feel at peace with herself.

Y/N has always been first in P.E. class. She's competed in sprints and running competitions and marathons since she can remember. It's one thing that gets her away from everyone else (quite literally) and from any thoughts that she'd find unwelcome - running.

At one point in her secondary school years, she was running a kids marathon through the woods and tripped on a tree branch, getting her left foot stuck under a tree root by accident.

It was the first time she felt trapped. It was the first time she didn't win the marathon. It was the first time she didn't get any of the three first places. It was the first time she sprained her ankle. And the first time she felt genuenly scared for her life.

For her, it felt like the end of the world. It felt like no one would be coming to save her. But when they finally would come, the tree root would have already grown around and in her leg and stayed with her until the end of her life. She thought she'd have to live with a tree stuck to her, a root in her leg. She thought she'd never run again.

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