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anomander-dragnipurake · 4 years

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Possessed Part 2 Chapter Four: Discussion

Back in the lab, the boxes were placed haphazardly all over the floor. E. Gadd was already sorting through them while Polterpup chewed on a bone in the corner and Gooigi seemed to just be sort of standing around, watching. They looked up and lifted a hand in a small wave as Luigi, King Boo, and Mario entered. King Boo even let Luigi return with his own wave. It was nice to see Gooigi again, though Luigi felt a bit bad about having not thought of them much the past however long King Boo had been possessing him for.

“Did you tell him?” E. Gadd asked, looking up from his work to swivel around in his chair to face them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he had to mean.

“Yes,” Luigi said. He would’ve still preferred not to but there was no way they could’ve kept it a secret for long no matter what.

“Good. I already explained to Gooigi so you don’t have to worry them.” That was one worry off Luigi’s plate at least. Whatever Gooigi felt about the situation was impossible to guess but that was how it was always was with them.

“You can fix it, right?” Mario asked, walking around the boxes to stand by E. Gadd at his desk.

“I don’t know yet but I’m going to try. I have to adjust the KBE blueprints some and might need to send you four out for more parts to build it. So it’s still days if not weeks away from being done. And I don’t even know if that time frame’s going to be an issue or not. How fast does it take for two souls to become one? At what point does separating them become impossible? There’s so much we don’t know.”

Neither King Boo or Luigi had thought to consider that before. What if they’d already reached the point of no return? If not how far away were they from it? It could potentially take weeks for E. Gadd to finish the KBE, that was a scary amount of time when under an unknown time limit.

“You two,” E. Gadd said, pointing at King Boo and Luigi, “You haven’t said anything about it but you must’ve noticed symptoms of what’s happening with your souls by now. About how long ago did they start? If we can pinpoint about when the process began, we might be able to calculate approximately how fast it’s occurring.”

Both of them thought back to when they’d first started becoming more aware of the other’s thoughts and emotions. They both came up blank though; their memories from before their trip to the Boo Kingdom were foggy and indistinct. Neither of them were even sure how long King Boo had been possessing Luigi for.

Which is your fault. If King Boo hadn’t been running around injecting Luigi’s body with every chemical he could find they would know more. Also, he would’ve gotten bored of the game sooner, possibly resulting in them not being in the mess in the first place. Or heck, if he just hadn’t possessed Luigi in the first place, things would be better for both of them.

‘How was I supposed to know this could happen? If anything, it’s your fault for making defeating you any other way so difficult.’

In the interest of keeping what little peace they could have Luigi wasn’t going to reply to that. “Longer than two weeks ago,” he said out loud instead.

“Much longer?” E. Gadd asked. “Or about two weeks?”

“Uh… I…” Luigi began before King Boo cut him off. “We’re not entirely sure because most of our time was spent experimenting with every inebriating substance we could get out hands on. As a result, we were barely aware of much of anything a lot of the time, let alone our thoughts getting closer, and we certainly can’t remember any of it well. So we can’t say when it started, only that it was longer than two weeks, probably by a fair bit. Before we found out about it was fun though, drugs, alcohol, and the ability to sleep are the only good things the living have.”

Why’d you have to tell them that? Luigi had had no control for any of it but he still felt ashamed and would’ve preferred no one ever knew of it. … Which was exactly why King Boo had told them.

Mario glared but as he opened his mouth to speak, King Boo cut him off.

“Before you get all mad at me about that, let me share just one more thing and ask a very important question related to it.” With an evil smile, he pushed back against Luigi’s attempt to make him shut up because mentioning that wasn’t necessary. Luigi didn’t want to think about it ever again. … Too bad, King Boo wanted to know why it had happened and there was a chance it might be useful information to E. Gadd. “On the day we discovered our predicament, I tried multiple ways to fix it myself. I only came here as a last resort after all. But the way that definitely should’ve worked but didn’t for some inexplicable reason was death. I tried to kill the meat suit but it wouldn’t die.”

“You did what?” Now Mario was really mad as he took a menacing few steps closer.

With an evil chuckle, King Boo pulled down the collar of suit, better revealing the mostly healed wound on Luigi’s neck. “I slashed his throat,” he said as he ran the thumb of his other hand over it, sending a shudder down Luigi’s spine. “Deep too. He couldn’t breath and he bled what seemed to be most of if not all his blood out. I even stopped his heart. And yet, he wouldn’t die.”

“You bastard!” Mario grabbed King Boo by the shirt and shoved his back roughly against the wall. He reared a fist back for a punch but seemed to catch himself just in time to punch the wall next to Luigi’s head instead of Luigi himself. “How dare you?”

With in inward chuckle, King Boo surrendered control to Luigi. Mario pushing him against the wall was suddenly the main thing keeping him up right as he shook from just the memory of that incident. It made him nauseous but he could almost recall what it felt like to lie there, bleeding out but not dying, not even passing out.

Mario jerked back with a stricken look. “I’m sorry Luigi, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Luigi interrupted. “I uh… just don’t want to think about… that.” He wanted to say more but…

Having had his fun messing with Mario, King Boo took control back; steeling against the trembling and even pushing down the growing panic and forcing away the memory of it which Luigi wholeheartedly welcomed and assisted in. He then put a hand on Mario’s shoulder to push him to the side a bit to stroll past him. “Why did that happen?” he asked he strode over to stand in front of E. Gadd. “Why can’t the meatsuit die?”

E. Gadd looked shocked but quickly recovered, shaking it off before replying. “Hmmm… well I can’t say for sure without more data but my hypothesis would be that it has something to do with your souls merging. One of your souls is dead while the other is not, together you’d be something that’s sort of in-between, right? Meaning you’re neither fully alive nor fully dead and thus you can’t die. Oh uh… you may have actually discovered the secret to immortality, congrats! Hmm… I wish I could run all sorts of tests and experiments on you but… I can’t. My lab’s in shambles and there are lines I won’t cross even for science, letting a friend’s soul merge with someone so vile is one of them. I need the prioritize finished the KBE above all else.”

Luigi could’ve hugged him for that and with all he’s been through lately, he probably would’ve if King Boo wasn’t there to restrain him. … That hug with Mario had been more than enough for the day, King Boo refused to tolerate any more. So Luigi had to settle for a shaky, “Thank you,” instead.

E. Gadd grunted an acknowledgement as he spun his chair back to face his desk. “Speaking of that, I have work I need to get back to. Revealing your… stunt reminded me just how urgent his is.”

Unhappy but satisfied with that answer, King Boo turned back around to grin at Mario who was back to looking mad. “As soon as you’re out of my bro’s body, I’m gonna make you pay for everything you did to him,” he said, making it sound like a promise.

With an evil chuckle, King Boo raised an eyebrow. “Really? And how do you plan to do that? We’ve fought before, remember? Three times now. I won easily every single time. If it wasn’t for your bro here, you’d still be wall art.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to pay.”

Luigi wished he could take comfort in that but… he just couldn’t. Mario didn’t stand a chance against King Boo; three times were certainly enough to prove that. Maybe if he had a Poltergust he would but even then, he didn’t know how to use it, did he? It didn’t match his style of combat at all.

‘If he tries anything, he’s doomed.’ … So hopefully he wouldn’t. If he did, Luigi would have to try to convince him not to. But that was thankfully something he didn’t have to worry about right now, getting free of King Boo came first.

Over the next however long, they sort of just hung out at the lab. E. Gadd worked, only occasionally calling Gooigi over to help with something. He called King Boo and Luigi over once for one more scan just for the sake of it and to see if anything had changed; it hadn’t. Other than that, none of them had anything more they could do right now but seemingly nowhere else to go.

It was Mario who eventually pointed out how late it was. Neither Luigi nor King Boo had noticed beyond taking note of Gooigi falling asleep in the corner but it was nearing midnight. King Boo’s magic and seemingly the whole half dead, half alive thing reduced their need for sleep – and other life sustaining things like food and water – making it easy to lose track of how late it was.

“Rest is for those without coffee,” E. Gadd protested upon the suggested he should rest and continue tomorrow.

Mario frowned at him. “While I agree, this is very important and needs to be done as soon as possible, it’s probably better if you rest.”

“I agree,” King Boo said. “If you fuck this up because of sleep deprivation or any other reason, I’ll make you death a slow one.” As much as he’d like it if E. Gadd could work on it 24/7, even he knew that the living needed sleep or they didn’t function properly. He’d rather it take a little longer to ensure E. Gadd did it right then rush it and probably result in something in it not working right and thus the whole thing failing.

E. Gadd groaned and complained in a way that was almost funny before finally spinning around and hopping off his chair. “Fine whatever. Let’s all get some rest. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Mario said as E. Gadd walked off. He then turned to look at King Boo and Luigi, still leaning against a wall to the side. “You want to come back to the castle with me? It’s a shorter drive back here than to your old place. And we can car pool.”

“You… really want me coming back with you?” Luigi asked because anywhere he went, King Boo went too and no one in their right mind would invite King Boo over to their house.

‘Wow, rude! I’m perfectly good company.’ … That was so blatantly untrue it wasn’t even worth a response. … ‘When I want to be I am.’

“Of course I do, your my bro. Even if you got an uh… unwelcome passenger right now, you’re still welcome over.”

“Let’s go then,” King Boo said as he stood up. He was bored and sleep sounded nice right about now anyway even if they didn’t feel much need for it yet.

Mario didn’t live in the castle itself – though he did have a room there that he stayed in sometimes – but a house very near it. Luigi had lived with him there until a few years ago when he’d decided to try to be a little more independent. Which actually was part of what had led into the original haunted mansion trap so maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Regardless, the place was almost exactly how Luigi remembered, the red couch in front of the outdated TV, the kitchen doorway to the right, and the hall leading to the bedrooms, except messier. Mario had never cared much about tidiness the way Luigi did. … King Boo preferred tidiness too. … Finally, something they had in common so at least when their souls merged, whatever kind of person they’d become would still be neat and tidy.

‘No need to be so pessimistic.’ It dampened King Boo’s confidence that this would turn out fine.

Can you blame me for being pessimistic when you’ve been making my life a living hell for however long we’ve been like this? Honestly, as bad as the idea of their souls merging into one was, it would probably be better than continuing to exist with King Boo in control of his body. So I think I’m allowed to be as pessimistic and negative and whatever else I want however much I want.

‘You should really stand up for yourself more. It’s more exciting than your whimpering and cowering is.’ Though part of why it was exciting was that the whimpering and cowering had gotten old after being exposed to it for so long.

Fuck you too. Even if he wasn’t physically tired, he was mentally and he just wanted this nightmare to be over with already. He’d reached the end of his rope a long time ago. That earned a chuckle from King Boo, before he could properly reply though…

“You okay?” Mario asked, stepping in front of them.

“No,” they said out loud together because it was impossible for them to be okay in these circumstances.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you’ve been hiding a way to get me out of this meat suit, then no, you can’t help,” King Boo replied.

Mario glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“It’s fine Mario,” Luigi cut in before King Boo could reply with a snarky taunt. “I’ll be fine… hopefully. I trust the professor, if anyone can fix it, it’s him.” What if he couldn’t though? What if it was too late already? Or too late by the time he finished the KBE?

“Yeah, you’ll be free of King Boo soon, I’m sure, just got to hang on a bit longer.” Mario gave him an encouraging smile. Luigi had always been a little jealous of his confidence. “Let’s go to be now, huh? It’s been a long day.”

Ignoring him, King Boo strode past him towards the bedroom. For the sake of getting along… ‘Which room is yours?’ He was tempted to head for Mario’s room to mess stuff up but it would accomplish nothing.

The one on the right. Luigi wouldn’t have let him mess with anything anyway.

“Uh… goodnight then Luigi,” Mario called after them as King Boo started down the hall. “Sweet dreams.”

“’Night Mario,” Luigi returned before King Boo could close the door.

#My writing #super mario bros #Luigi's Mansion #booigi #Mentions of drugs and alcohol #mentions of violence

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teacupsandteapots · 4 years

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Prom night! There's a blood warning, but if you've watched/read Carrie, you should know why. Also, I said Billy x Carrie x Stu x Nancy rights.

(And of course, no read more.)

As Carrie applied her mascara in her cracked mirror, she couldn't help but think about later tonight.

She couldn't believe it, but Stu asked her to be his prom date! She thought it was a joke, but he ended up going all out on a Promposal for her on Tuesday. They'd also be meeting up with Billy and Nancy, who decided to go with each other. The boys planned on giving the two girls a night to remember, and Carrie was genuinely excited to see what they had planned.

There was one person who wasn't as happy, however, and she was leaning against Carrie's bedroom door.

"It's not too late to tell him no, Carrietta." Margaret White said, clearly concerned, "Toss that dress away and come pray with me instead."

"Mama, he's already on his way to pick me up and he'll have me home by midnight. Besides, this guy isn't like all the rest. He actually likes me, and I like him too." Carrie decided to leave out the part about her also having some sort of romantic feelings for Billy and Nancy.

"That's what your father said too. All boys are the same, Carrietta! They'll make you promises, and then they'll break your heart! Once they do that, they'll laugh at you and watch you fall apart!"

"Stu isn't like Papa, Mama. He'd never leave me, and I'm sure of it."

Margaret stared at her daughter for a second, silently. She was angry, but she couldn't scare her away. Why couldn't Carrie understand she was trying to protect her?

"You're not going to that dance, Carrie, and that's final." Margaret said firmly. Suddenly, someone was knocking on the door.

"That's him." After setting down her makeup, Carrie made her way to the bedroom door and Margaret grabbed her arm.

"You're telling him you're not going, aren't you?"

"No, Mama. I'm not." With that, Carrie pushed Margaret off of her and walked downstairs. Her little burst of confidence started to to fade as she approached the door. She took a deep breath before opening the front door, only to get a face full of red roses. She was going to question it, but stopped upon noticing a grinning Stu from behind it.

"Surprise, Carrie. These are for you." He said, handing the large bouquet to the girl who gladly took them.

"Thank you, Stu. You didn't really have to get me anything though."

"But I wanted to. Now come on, Billy and Nancy are waiting for us." Stu held out his arm, which Carrie took. He walked her down the lawn and towards the black limo parked at the curb. He opened the door for her, and climbed in after.

"Hey Carrie, looking good." Billy said, pulling the girl into a side hug.

"Yeah, how'd you convince your mom to let you come?" Nancy asked, leaning over to look at Carrie.

"Oh, I didn't... I kinda pushed past her." Carrie replied, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Billy whistled, nodding in approval, "Damn. Didn't know you had it in you. I'm proud."

Carrie could only smile in response, clearly happy with the positive attention.

A few minutes later, the group made it to the school. The boys escorted their dates to the gym, where prom was in full swing.

"Wow, there's so many people here.." Carrie said, looking around.

"That's prom for you. Lots of sweaty people in a gym." Nancy said.

"Speaking of sweaty, why don't we all dance?" Stu suggested. The other three teens agreed, heading out to the dancefloor. People were surprised to see Nancy and Carrie, but they seemed genuinely happy to see them. A few hours later, it was time to announce the prom queen and king. The group decided to stand close to the stage so they could have a better view.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your new prom queen and king are... Carrie White and Tommy Ross!" Carrie's jaw dropped as everyone began to cheer. Nancy, Billy, and Stu pulled the girl into a quick hug and began to push her towards the stage. Her heart was pounding, her ears were ringing, and she felt somewhat dizzy. Tommy smiled at her though, and she felt like everything would be alright.

She accepted the crown and the bouquet with a smile, and when she looked out into the crowd, she noticed her friends giving her a thumbs up. Yes, the girl felt like she was on cloud nine and that nothing could ruin this moment!

SPLAT!

Carrie felt something cold and smelly run down her body as she dropped her bouquet in surprise. The crowd fell silent as she inspected her hands.

"Oh, it's blood!" Someone had dumped blood on Carrie. Someone had ruined her one moment to shine.

"What the fuck?!" Tommy was shouting now, but Carrie could hardly register it. She should've known! Mama warned her that they'd break her heart! When she looked to where her friends were standing, she noticed they were gone and in their place was laughing students. Billy and Stu and Nancy were just like the rest of them! She was a fool for thinking otherwise!

Carrie couldn't help but scream and cry at this revelation, and she hardly noticed the three students pulling her off the stage and out the door. One of them was cursing loudly while the other two tried to comfort her. It was all too much for the poor girl, so she blacked out.

When Carrie finally came to, she noticed she was on a large bed that wasn't hers. The blood was gone, and so was her prom dress. Had that all just been a bad dream? No, it couldn't be. She still felt dirty.

Carrie climbed out of the bed and left the room, finally recognizing where she was. This was Stu's house, and she had been here plenty of times in the past. She made her way to the living room only to see a pissed off Billy and Nancy and Sty trying to calm him down. She watched them for a moment before approaching.

"Carrie? You're awake." Nancy was the first to notice Carrie, and she immediately made her way to her, grabbing her hands.

"What.. what happened?" Carrie asked. Her voice was quiet and raspy, as if she had screamed for a long time.

"Stu, get her some water." The boy nodded as Billy approached Carrie, still angry, "Those assholes dumped pig blood on you. When I get my hands on them, I'm gonna--"

"Hold your horses, Billy. We need to focus on Carrie right now. Plot your revenge later."

Billy nodded, but he didn't calm down until Stu came back with Carrie's water. As she began to drink, the other three teenagers lead her over to the couch to sit.

"More, please..." Billy got up to get Carrie some more water this time, allowing Stu and Nancy to speak to her, "How did I get here...?"

"Stu called the limo and carried you out too." Nancy said, holding one of Carrie's hands.

"It was kinda hard 'cause the teachers were shouting and trying to figure out who did it." Stu added, holding Carrie's other hand, "Some think it was Norma or one of the other girls who hung out with Chris." Carried nodded, processing the information. She wouldn't put it past Norma to do such a thing, but where did she get the blood anyway? How did she ensure Carrie won prom queen?

Billy came back with her water, which Carrie took and gulped down as quickly as the first cup. After she set the cup down, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

"How can we help you get over this, Carrie?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, your wish is our command!" Stu said, wrapping an arm around her.

"You can ask us to do anything." Billy said, taking a seat next to Nancy.

"Can we just sit here for a while, please? I really don't want to do anything right now. I'll have to deal with everyone on Monday, so.." Carrie said.

"Nope, we're skipping Monday." Billy said matter-of-factly, "You need a break away from those assholes."

Carrie didn't even try to protest for once. A break away from everything with her best friends would be nice, and she didn't feel like deal with her mother either.

As she leaned on Nancy's shoulder, she completely missed the looks Billy and Stu exchanged with each other. If she knew, however, she probably wouldn't have stopped them either way.

#carrie 1976 #stephen king's carrie #carrie white #carrie #billy loomis #scream 1996 #scream #stu macher #a nightmare on elm street 2010 #nancy holbrook

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futurewriter2000 · 5 years

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Opposite numbers ~ pt. 1

A/N: Welcome, to my torture for you. Cuz this is gonna get good.

There was a privilege of having another student for a neighbor. The two of you could talk about school, study together, go on adventures and have some good memories to reminisce about later in life.

Well, yeah, you definitely didn’t have that with James Potter. The two of you HATED each other.

It started as soon as you moved into the house next door and he threw an egg as a welcome to the neighborhood gift. He was an evil delinquent to who you lived for the last 10 years.

Here is the story. His way of getting on your nerves was pulling pranks, your way on getting on his nerves was blasting music. Your windows were right the opposite of each other. The two of you grew up next to each other in hate and resentment. In school, the two of you pretended not to know each other at all.

Simple. It was simple until one night you decided to drink two cups of coffee.

Coffee. How could you not love a drink like that? It was delicious and it sent all kind of emotions through your body, especially adrenalin.

---

James held his pillow around his head, pushing them against his ears and trying to muffle the music coming from the window opposite his. He was so irritated by your taste in music. And why on earth would you be listening to The Jacksons at 11pm?

If you haven’t played the same song for the last hour than he might as well know all the lyrics to it.

It was coming to end right now...so if you play it one more time, ONE MORE TIME, he is going to lose it.

He closed his eyes as the music finally stopped and he squeezed the pillow tighter. “ Please don’t. Oh, God please just let her go to sleep and stop with the music. Please, please I beg you-”

‘ My baby's always dancin' and it wouldn't be a bad thing But I don't get no lovin' and that's no lie We spent the night in Frisco at every kinda disco '

“ ARGGGHH! “ he jumped from his bed and opened his window, throwing one of his pencils towards it. “ OI! Jackson the 6th! “

Here’s the thing. When you drink two cups of coffee, blast music and feel endorphins in your body, you don’t hear the pencil hitting your window. You feel the rhythm in your bones and the music in your ears. Dancing, whether you were good at it or not, when it came to funky music, there was no denying you weren’t shimmying or doing the boogey.

Having neighbors didn’t matter, nor anything in that matter. What mattered was that all the energy went somewhere and at this point, you were dancing and holding your microphone in your hand which in this case was a hairspray.

Oh, how James didn’t believe his eyes when he saw a girl with who he grew up with in resentment, dancing to Blame it on the boogey in only her messy bun and an oversized shirt. He laughed and he watched because that was something he couldn’t let go as another way of you annoying him.

That was until the music changed and you finally stopped dancing. The heat finally washed over your body and you felt your cheeks burn as well as every single body part started to sweat.

You threw yourself on the bed but that didn’t help. So completely blind to the boy watching you from the other side, you slipped out of your shirt and pulled on a tight top.

James froze where he stood and he couldn’t help himself but feel another, different kind of heat wash over him. And as if seeing you in only a top and lacy red panties weren’t enough, Careless Whisper by George Michael started playing on your stereo.

Oh, how funny the universe worked.

“ Should've known better than to cheat a friend And waste the chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you… “ you started to sing along the song, calming your heart rate and starting to fix your messy bun that was falling apart.

Your voice was different. When you usually sang it annoyed him, as if he was listening to a suffocating hijena, but now your singing seemed to be the perfect music to his ears. The way you let your hair down and brushed them on one side seemed to be a perfect turn on.

Though it seemed perfect for James at the very moment, the music seemed to bore you. Jumping over to the stereo, you switched the song and grabbed half empty water bottle next to it.

‘Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy Somewhere just beyond my reach, there's someone reaching back for me Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light... "

You jumped, did everything you could with your body. The song was taking over you and to be honest you had no idea what you were doing at the moment, especially to the boy next door. What you did know the song got you on your knees and you couldn’t help yourself but sing your lungs out until your throat started to ache.

Opening your eyes and looking over to the mirror, you saw a familiar face leaning over their window and watching you. It was obvious that you saw him and he couldn’t help himself but to blush and duck under his window.

Grabbing your sweatpants and pulling them on you ran to your window and smirked. “ Hiding, Potter, are we now? ”

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that this might as well be a nightmare he can’t wake up from. What kind of guy hides away? What was he thinking?

“ I know you’re there, you might as well show yourself.” you put your head on your palms and watched innocently at his window. “ I have all night. “

He let his heart rate calm down first. He couldn’t get even more embarrassed than he already did. He crawled his way behind a wall and spun his body to the window with a mischievous grin plastered on his smug face. “ Some dance moves you’ve got there. Might showing me some?” he winked at you and your grin only grew.

“ OH? “ you scoffed surprised, crossing your arms over your chest before leaning forwards again. “ So now you like me or what? “

He chuckled and licked his lips as your cleavage was exposed and your hair seemed to block that perfect neck. “ I don’t know what you mean. I have always liked my best neighbor. “

“ You threw me off the tree house when we were seven.”

“ I said my best neighbor, I didn’t say that was you.” he winked and couldn’t help himself but to feel the heat strengthen in his body as you started to put your hair in a high ponytail.

“ Whatever, Potter. I’m going to sleep anyway so don’t worry about the music.” you rolled your eyes, closed the window and wiping his smirk off his face.

He couldn’t help himself but stare at the dark window, so instead of going to sleep himself, he decided to do something else for a change.

----

Your parents were out with Potters that was why you could blast music today. It was those adult gatherings everybody attended and let kids like yourself and James be home alone for once in your life.

You saw him today at how he looked at you. He observed your features, drolled over your body but he hated you. He has always hated you just as you always hated him. It was always like that and it will always be like that.

It seemed to upset you how the two of you could have been close. Around his friends he seemed to be relaxed and fun, always laughing. With you, all he did was smirk or pull some kind of prank. It always happened at home and not during school.

Here, the two of you were practically at each other's throats and in school it was like you have never met the guy.

You didn’t go to sleep because it was barely 11pm. It was summer and what kind of teenager would you be if you went to bed at 11pm during the summer. Instead, you walked your way towards the kitchen, turned on the radio at a low volume and opened the refrigerator.

Your eyes set on the leftovers in the back but before you could reach them somebody knocked on your door. You pulled your head away and slowly closed the refrigerator.

‘Who could be at your door at this hour?’ you thought to yourself and slowly walked to the door.

Three knocks and a kick. That’s what you heard and it didn’t take you a second longer to figure out who it was. It was James because since the two of you were kids, that was his secret knock.

“Seriously, James.” you opened the door as fast as you could and before your thoughts could even manage to process anything else, he was kissing you.

Pinning you against the wall and trying to close the door with his leg, he kissed you passionately and with hunger. “ James-” you pulled away and feel his heart rate racing as he was pressed against your body. “ What-”

He shut you up with another deep kiss before pulling away again. “ I want you. Right here, right now. I want you.” he practically begged and you couldn’t help yourself but to smirk at his desperation.

“Than take me.” you let his grin spread wider and he pulled you into another kiss.

It started with a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss which revolved teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. Of course, he won. He was definitely more eager to taste you, the whole you.

His hands slid up your body and to your breast but before he could take off your bra you pushed them away. “ I think it’s better to take this elsewhere,” you smirked and glanced to the stairs on your left.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs with you. He was so impatient about it, it was so damn hard to stay away from you, to not touch you at those 30 seconds where you led him to your room. He craved your kisses, your touch,...

Entering your room and you were back at the beginning. Against the wall and being covered with his kisses. He wasn’t patient enough. He ripped your top off your body, exposing you and your red lacy bra. It took him a moment, a moment to take in the image in front of him but for you, he took too long because you were hungry as well and impatient just like him. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled it over his head and was immediately pushed back against the wall. His hands slid down your thighs, under your sweatpants, and to your bare skin. He gripped your ass harshly and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Your lips were locked, your lungs running out of air and he...he didn’t stop. As soon as you two reached your bed, he hovered over you and let his eyes wander on your body. He smelled like vanilla, spice and strong scent of sandalwood and it drove you insane. You craved for his kisses but he only roamed your body with his rough hands as well with his flaming hazel eyes.

He kissed your neck, softly. He brushed his mouth down your collarbone and slowly, teasingly, he left soft and gentle kisses on your body.

But then there was a sound.

“Why is the door open?” you heard your father say down-stairs and you immediately pushed James off you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” you say as you quickly grabbed the shirt from your wardrobe.

“Well, apparently not.” James rolled his eyes and grinned at you.

“James! Hide!” you whispered at him.

“It’s just your pare-”

“I see you repainted the walls.” Mrs. Potter’s voice came down as well while your father's footsteps kept approaching.

“Oh, shit!” he got on his feet and grabbed his shirt from the ground and ran into the wardrobe.

“(y/n):” he burst into your room and you just kept putting your pants on.

“Daaaaaad!!” you closed the door. “I’m changing!” you lied. Well, technically you weren’t lying but-

“Sorry, honey. I was just worried since the doors were opened.”

“Yeah. Umm...James was here.”

“The Potter’s boy?” he furrowed his eyes and came in the room.

You leaned on the chair casually and crossed your arms, shrugging. “Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“He- um- he just rushed his arse in and started yelling at me to turn my music down. You know. The usual.”

“Did you blast it again?”

“Maybe.”

“(Y/n).” he sighed.

“ I turned it off, okay.”

“Or you turned it up?” he quirked an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on both of your lips.

“Maybe.” you smiled.

“You two used to be so close once.” he sat on the sitting bag in front of your closet, making you tense up. “Thick as thieves.”

“When?” you scoffed, glancing from the wardrobe to your father.

“When the two of you were kids. Both of you always played tag and had these cute fights.”

“Dad.” you looked seriously at him. “We weren’t playing tag. Or had cute fights.”

“Yeah, I know.” he chuckled. “But the two of you were the most adorable rivals.”

“Were?” you quirked an eyebrow at your father. “We still are.”

“Maybe he likes you.” your father continued, unaware that the boy he was talking about was right behind him, hearing every single word. “You know boys would do anything to get a girls attention.”

“Really?” you moved closer to your father and sat on the bed, glancing at the wardrobe and though you couldn’t see James at the moment, you just knew the roll of his eyes.

“Don’t know why you hate him so much though?”

“Dad. He ruined my auntie’s dolls.”

“Those dolls were horrible, to begin with. He did you a favor.” he continued to chuckle.

“Well...That only made auntie make more of them, which was worse. “ you stood back up and walked away. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, honey.” your father stood up as well.

“Why else would he do those things he did and continues to do?” you looked up at your father though the question was directed to the boy in your closet.

“Maybe because he likes-”

“He likes the redhead Gryffindor. I thought the whole of Britain would know this by now. He just likes torturing me.” you moved around your father and started pushing him through your door. “Now you’ve got guests. Shoo.”

“You can say hi as well. “your father took your hand and pulled you with him.

“I’m not dressed properly.” you tried to find an excuse.

“They have known you since you were a seven and it’s midnight, so it’s acceptable.”

“Uh-yeah-okay.”

---

After the whole parents’ interrogation, you were put through, you excused yourself and went back up to your room.

He was still there.

“James, the hell?” you rushed over to him and slapped his arm. “Get out of here!”

“You really think I hate you?” he asked seriously.

“James, this is really not the time to discuss it.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Bet your arse you are. Or you’ll accidentally get thrown through the window.” you pushed him through the door. “Use the back door and be careful for them not see you.”

“(y/n).” he tried to come back in.

“James. Another time, please.” you pushed him back but he grabbed your hand from his chest and pulled you into a kiss. A deep, hell of a fiery kiss before he pulled away and smiled.

“I don’t hate you, (y/n).” and he left.

#james potter x reader #James Potter #james potter imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew imagine #Marauders #marauder #marauders imagine #marauders imagines

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sirkkasnow · 5 years

Text

15 Everybody’s Got A Secret

Ao3 link

7/28/13 Sunday

The dirt roads were rough, a little worse in the dark maybe, but the route was familiar as the back of his hand and the rattle-and-creak of the springs was just background information. He knew exactly how much abuse the suspension could take.

Clary, on the other hand, looked a little grim. Both hands gripped white-knuckled onto her shoulder belt.

"You good over there?"

"Swell."

"We'll be fine - you'll love it once we get there. Hang on, there's a bump - "

It was a hell of a bump, actually, and Stan flung a shielding arm out on reflex as she squealed in momentary panic, bouncing back down with a shaky laugh. "Holy hell, Stan! You always rattle your dates this hard?"

"Only the ones I really like. Hang in there, kid, I promise this is worth the hassle."

"You sure about that?'

"C'mon. Trust me." He spared a sidelong glance. Her eyes were wide in the faint light of the cabin, but she settled back warily into her seat.

"You've gotten us out in one piece before. I’m willing to gamble that you can do it again."

The handful of cockeyed reflectors that marked the edge of the bluff came up a little faster than he anticipated and he hit the brakes harder than maybe he should’ve, but Stan was able to lock it down a good eight feet back without any trouble. He heard Clary suck in a hissing breath and let it go slow.

The car went quiet as he flipped back the key. He left the dash lights and headlamps alone for the moment, watching from the corner of one eye as she wound down her window, popped the buckle and leaned forward to brace elbows on the dashboard.

By now they were past twilight into night. The car perched on a rocky ledge well above town. Twisted, scrubby pine clung to fissures in the stone, stunted enough not to block the view.

Stan rarely paid attention to what anything around here looked like, but at this time of year he admitted it was pretty impressive. Gravity Falls rolled out below like a sprawling tangle of Christmas lights. Pale gold and white sparked with occasional blue or red laced into the silhouettes of trees, all the surrounding forest faded down to velvet black in the dark.

Bare traces of midnight blue still clung to the western sky, but summer stars popped out clear and sharp in the vault overhead. Clary twisted, pillowing her cheek on a forearm and peering up through the windshield for a better view. “Nice. I never get to see this many stars back in Baltimore.” Her attention swung over to him and Stan busied himself with escaping his seat belt. “Where are we anyway?”

“There’re a couple little perches up here. This’s the one that’s hard to get at. The easy one is over there - “ He clicked on the highbeams, which reached out far enough to illuminate beaten dirt and a more substantial fence across a narrow ravine. “That is Lookout Point.“ She was beginning to chuckle under her breath and he ignored it. “Which is usually infested with teenagers, which is why we’re over here. Best place to get a look at everything before it disappears in your rear-view mirror, right?”

“So we’re overlooking both town and the local makeout spot.” Her grin flashed in the half-light as she pushed back and made herself comfortable in the far corner of her seat. “I can’t believe how small it all looks from up here. Like your local tourist map but more accurate.”

“It’s not much, I know.” Stan snapped off the rest of the lights and the car went pitch dark. His eyes gradually adapted to starlight as the cooling engine pinged harmony to scattered cricket-song.

“You never did get around to telling me what kept you in Gravity Falls for three decades. There’s the business, sure, but it’s hard to picture you being contented out here for that long.”

“I’m not sure the business woulda worked anywhere else. Scratch that, I know it wouldn’t’ve.” Stan wished like hell that he’d thought to bring a cigar; it’d help keep his hands busy. He settled for resting his cheek against a palm, elbow braced against the window ledge, and tapping restless rhythm with the fingertips she couldn’t see.

“Was it Ford’s thing? The research he came out here to do? I’ve only managed to get bits and pieces out of him about it.” Clary toed off her sandals and tucked feet up onto the seat, glittering dimly across what felt like about a mile and a half of empty leather.

He squinted over at her outline. “What, you asked straight up?”

“He got this wistful look and told me to ask you.”

Stan sighed. “Typical. Kickin’ the hard stuff back to me.” She chuckled and he tipped his head back, staring up at the seams in the roof lining. “Look, considerin’ all the insane crap you’ve seen since you got here, you will not be surprised to hear that there used t’be an interdimensional portal in the basement.”

“What?”

“Maybe a little surprised. So yeah, he came out here for the local weirdness right after college. Me, I, ah.”

Stan closed his eyes, reminded himself that the need to keep secrets was pretty much over and done with, and spilled. “Long, and I mean long story short, Ford an’ I had a fallin’ out when we were on the tail end of high school. I got kicked out, barely talked to him or my parents for ten years, traveled the country tryin’ to make something work, got banned from a couple dozen states…”

Clary was tight-focused on him now, not the sparkling view, and he shifted restlessly under the weight of her shock. “Ford sent a postcard out of the blue one winter, ‘please come’, that was it, so I did. Hadn’t been banned from Oregon at least. I had no idea how bad it’d gotten for him.”

He had to pause, picking his way through the words. Years of practice kept his voice even. “I thought we were gonna work things out. He thought he was gonna tell me to get lost. Things like they were...words got said, punches got thrown...I accidentally pushed Ford through the portal to fend for himself an’ hop through dimensions for the next thirty years.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t told bits of this story before in various ways, but it was always over a drink and with tongue firmly in cheek, impressing the hell out of some hapless dockside bar with every outrageous embellishment. This was a bare recitation of fact.

She looked stricken, from what he could make out. One hand pressed hard to her lips and he could about hear her thoughts spinning from where he sat. “Wow.”

“Ha. You’re tellin’ me.”

“You took over his identity so you could take over the house.” Clary’s muffled murmur was almost inaudible.

He must have twitched in surprise, because he caught the flicker of her rueful smile as she shifted over to the midline of the bench seat. “I do talk to people who aren’t you, Stan. It’s amazing what you can pick up behind the counter at Greasy’s. Thought it was odd that I heard plenty of stories about Mr. Mystery, but not Doctor Mystery until whatever weirdness went down last summer.”

Stan huffed out half a laugh. “Nosy much?”

“It’s been a month and I find you fascinating.” He cleared his throat and she poked him with a fingertip. “So you stayed. You stayed to make sure he got back.”

At the blurred edge of his vision he could make her out, leaning against the seat back. “I had nowhere else to go, and like hell was I gonna leave until he was safe, so yeah. Moved into the house, started up the Shack, found a way to pay the mortgage.”

“In spades, apparently.”

“I did all right. That all went into the Ford recovery fund, mind you.”

“Stan Pines, selfless. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Clary chuckled at that and he turned a little to meet the knowing gleam of her regard. “Here I thought you guys had it all figured out.”

“We do now, I guess, but that was a bumpy road and it didn’t come cheap.”

“You’re lucky.”

The faint wistful note in her tone tugged at his attention and he cocked a brow. She slouched, hands intertwined, looking out through the windshield at who knew what. “Not that I need to tell you that. I was in a hell of a state when I got here, and it’s been...nice...to have such good company. Sleeping in a house full of people instead of in another motel room, you and Ford, the kids and Soos and Melody...in spite of all the chaos, this trip would have been so much more bleak without the detour. Thanks for that.”

“Thanks for trashing the car, y’mean?” The sparkly fabric had slipped down enough to bare both her shoulders. Fragile starlight picked out the delicate lines of her collarbones. Dishevelment suited her, he decided.

“I promise to thank your brother for trashing my car before I go.”

Stan casually laid his arm along the seat back and Clary casually nestled into its arc, wriggling a little closer. “I don’t know why. You’re movin’ to Zurich for that fancy job, places to go, people to see, sounds to me like you’re doin’ all right.”

“There are things to look forward to. Doesn’t mean it isn’t lonely going at times.”

“You’ve got family there, right? Your sister and her kids and the grandies?”

She let that hang unanswered for a long moment, lashes lowered, and he found himself stroking her upper arm with his thumb to share a little comfort or stability or something. “It’s possible to live on the same planet and still be a million miles away.” With a subtle shift she pressed her cheek into him. “There’s been so much to deal with and I’ve had to be the tough one for the last couple years. I don’t know how the hell you kept it up.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anythin’ I can punch for ya.”

That won him a dry chuckle. “If only it were that simple.”

Stan dipped his head and pitched his rumble low in the general vicinity of her ear. “All right, then, how about we cross paths again somewhere down the line an’ buck each other up? We’re still on for that date, yeah?”

Clary quivered for a split second - still got it, yup - then rocked back a bit and lifted shrewd, cool eyes to his. “Answer me one question.”

“Shoot.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dammit. Stan knew precisely what she meant. “We made a ton of money, y’know. Gonna cover all your expenses and then some, just you wait.” He waggled brows at her.

“Bullshit.”

“Needed to stress-test Soos and Melody’s crowd management skills while I was around to offer sage advice?”

“Nope.” Her expression was smooth as glass, that faint smile sketched along her lips, shallow lines at the corners of her eyes betraying careful amusement.

“Uh, wild coincidence that I walked into Greasy’s right when everyone was lookin’ to blow their summer cash on somethin’ spectacular?” That actually wasn’t too far off from the truth but she was already shaking her head.

“Nice try.” The smile softened into something a little more hesitant. “You don’t have to take any of this more seriously than you want to, Stan.”

He stared at her in momentary shock - had she misread him that badly? - then felt her fingers twining into his and had to turn away to look out the window for a second, the muddle of his intentions and all the calculated risk crystallizing so sharply in his head that it halfway hurt.

Stan muttered into his knuckles. “Iwantedtoshowyouoff.”

Clary’s clasp twitched in his. “Say that again.”

“I wanted to show you off!” He rubbed at his eyes, gritting teeth in frustration. “I mean – dammit, Clary, I got about everythin’ I ever wanted last summer, everythin’ I dumped thirty years of my life into settin’ right and then some, an’ that oughta be enough.” Stan let the glasses drop back down, searching her shadowed expression. “It’s not. You’ve gotta understand that I am one greedy asshole, always have been. I am selfish enough to want more than that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the tension winding tight in her frame, but he sure as hell noticed the twang of its release. The professional mask cracked clean through. There was nothing but blunt determination left in the line of her jaw and the sharp light of her eyes.

“Good.” Clary hooked two fingers into his neckchain and dragged him in; he followed all too willingly.

It was a wreck of a kiss at first. They shifted and huffed, incredulous half-formed giggles hitching in her throat as his glasses jabbed her cheek. His schnoz and her beak were both substantial enough to pose a bit of a challenge.

At last she swayed into the arch of his encircling arm. Stan chased after, finally finding the right angle to lock lips, his tongue grazing hers and dipping further. The faint mmh that caught in her chest sent a shiver of electricity right down to his fingertips.

He’d half forgotten what a pain in the ass it was to get tangled up in the car - it’d been a while - and the little noises she made took on a frustrated note. At last she pulled away enough to give him a direct, wry look, snagged his collar with quick fingers and drew him down.

Stan braced an elbow so he wouldn’t crush her, went for the slope of her neck and tugged impatiently at the scarf with his teeth. Clary freed a hand and fumbled the knot loose, then the fabric, sheer silk slithering into some dark corner and already forgotten as he trailed kisses up the line of her throat. His lips sealed over the frantic flutter of her pulse and the sharp ah that resulted dragged a growl out of him.

Things went blurry after that. A few bits got cast off here and there, her hair clips landing somewhere in the back seat, his medallion under the brake pedal after it whacked her in the chin. Reproachful teeth nipped at the edge of his ear when his chilly hand settled at her waist to stroke a long arc up her side, and he kissed apology along the line of her collarbone until he felt her shudder and freeze.

Stan made himself stop, dragging his head up with an effort from the bare slope of her shoulder, and, oh.

Well, shit.

His palm was trapped flat against her back, fingers under the bra band. Seemed he still remembered how to unclip these slippery bastards one-handed, because he’d just popped the first hook.

Before he could pull away and apologize, Clary’s fingers twisted into his rumpled hair at the nape and tugged – gentle, but commanding – and he met her eye to hazy eye. To his profound relief that wasn’t anger but a bright spark of glee and rather a lot of real interest. “Did you mean to do that?”

Stan felt himself go scarlet to the ears and thanked his stars that she couldn’t see it in the near dark. “Yes and no?”

A startled, pleased laugh rang in the space between them. He watched her think things over, taking a moment to do the same, and – she deserved better than the front seat of the El Diablo, but what could you do – he was absolutely here for this, which didn’t stop a choked groan from constricting his throat when she arched deliberately under him and canted hips up to press just so.

“Mm.” Fuck, she looked smug and he would’ve called her on it if he weren’t so distracted by her nimble hands between them, popping shirt buttons and sliding in under the slick fabric to stroke his chest. “Carpe diem.”

He’d hung out around Ford long enough to know what that meant.

The tone shifted from playful to purposeful in a blink. Stan’s supporting arm slipped around her, fingers threading deep into tangled waves as he sought her open mouth. Clary's flexed knee settled against his hip as he deftly undid hooks two and three -

...right about in time for the blare of a car horn, someone else’s car horn, to shatter the night.

Stan’s head hit the roof as he jerked upright. Clary recoiled so sharply she slid off the seat, curling in tight like a startled barnacle and compressing into the passenger footwell. Through the haze he could make out headlights across the way at Lookout Point.

“Son of a - ”

“SORRY, MR. PINES!”

God fucking dammit he knew that voice.

Pure adrenaline lent him speed he’d pay for later. Stan booted the door open so hard it tried to bounce back and sprang outside, bellowing like a wounded walrus. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, ROBBIE!”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, WE SWEAR!”

Stan leaned back into the cabin to flick the headlights on, highbeams still active. Robbie - that greasy kid who’d given Wendy so much trouble, of course he’d turn up like a bad penny at the worst possible moment - flinched behind the wheel and flung up an arm to protect his eyes. His girlfriend, the one with the purple hair and the chronic social media habit, was trying to hide behind her phone.

He clung to the door for balance. None of his blood was where he wanted it to be right this second but he was thinking just clearly enough to be livid. “I DON’T REMEMBER YOUR LAST NAME RIGHT NOW, ROBBIE, BUT YOU BETTER PRAY I NEVER FIND OUT!”

“W - WE WERE JUST LEAVING!” The kid was struggling to get his beater in gear. Stan could hear the pained grind-and-clunk of the transmission from here. “WE DIDN’T SEE YOUR CAR WHEN - ”

“YOU’RE DEAD, YOU HEAR ME, KID? DEAD!”

Robbie’s car lurched and screeched and peeled out way too fast for what he knew was a pretty rough road. Stan collapsed heavily onto the driver’s seat, both hands to his face as he tried to collect himself. As the roar subsided in his ears he registered faint noise behind him and pivoted, suddenly frantic. “Clary. You okay, baby?” If she was crying he really would have to kill the kid.

She was sobbing, all right, but with strangled giggling so profound that she couldn’t get enough air to do more than squeak. Stan deflated a little as she gasped and wiped her eyes and wheezed. At last she was composed enough to throw her head back and bray with uncontrollable laughter for a good minute.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Oh my god,” she rasped. Clary groped around in the footwell until she came up with his chain and its medallion, then levered herself up onto the seat with a creak of springs. “That poor kid’s probably not going to stop until he’s in the next county.”

“Can’t even get a little privacy on a cliff in this town.”

“My hero. That was magnificent.” Stan rolled his eyes but held still as she clipped the chain back into place, hands light at his neck, and straightened his collar.

“Magnificent enough t’ pick up where we left off?” He knew better, but couldn’t resist the broad smirk. The interruption had blown a hole in the mood.

She smirked right back. “Moment’s passed, darling. Another time.” Clary curled forward and did that liquid thing women could do with arms twisting behind to refasten the bra’s hooks. Stan watched, openly appreciative, as she tweaked the spangled top more or less back into place. “We should head back and check in with the camping crew anyway, make sure nothing’s eaten them since dark.”

“Ha. Yeah, they’ll be fine, you have no idea what a mother hen Ford can be and that magnet gun’s not the only trick up his sleeve. I gotta ask, though.” He drew the back of one knuckle down the side of her pale, pretty neck, and smiled to feel her shiver.

“Go on…”

“You never answered. We still on for that date?”

She slung him an arch look. “What do you call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?”

Stan snorted. “That’s the cheapest lawyer joke of all time.”

“Lowest common denominator, yep. Now answer me.”

“A good start.”

“Smart man.” Clary leaned in, laying a delicate, deliberate kiss upon his lips like he was something rare and precious. Stan melted a bit in his seat. Both her touch and her lowered eyes lingered as she redid a few of his buttons, then slid back across the cabin to buckle in. “We’re on. I hope it doesn’t take us until next year, though.”

“What, not gonna cuddle up on the way home?” He fired up the car, the reliable old engine rumbling smoothly to life, and put it in reverse.

“Get this land yacht back on asphalt and drive like a half-blind old man, then yes.”

“I always drive like a half-blind old man.”

“I am not reassured.”

It was an easier drive back out. He actually took pains to dodge the worst bumps this time. Once they were on the county road Clary popped the seat belt and slipped beneath the curve of his welcoming arm. The radio crackled protest as she fiddled with the dial. Pickings were slim late on a Sunday night, and she finally settled for 80s schmaltz. Stan groaned, more for show than anything, and she elbowed him in the ribs. “You’ll live.”

“I may regret it, but I’ll live.”

The moon’s waning quarter still hadn’t made it up by the time they hit the Shack’s long drive, meaning it was a bit before midnight at least. The El Diablo glided easily into its slot alongside the Fairlane. “So if you’re not too tuckered out after all that, I maybe got one last little thing for dessert. You game?”

“I’m game. Need to get my hair back under control, though.” Clary squeezed his hand, tugged on her sandals and hopped out the passenger side, leaning into the back seat to retrieve his jacket and her hair clips. “See you in the kitchen in a bit?”

Even tangled and stiff with hairspray, he liked the tumble of waves falling around her features. “It’s nice down!”

She pulled a face at him. “I’m going to run a brush through this mop and grab something a little warmer to wear. See you in a couple minutes.”

They parted ways at the door, Stan upstairs, Clary down her hallway. The house’s unaccustomed quiet was downright strange after last week’s chaos, but familiar. He was humming some awful 80s power ballad under his breath by the time he got Dipper’s laptop and Ford’s antenna rig set up on the kitchen table. The uplink program was bright with alerts, message lines cluttered with incoming texts and photos - apparently the nerd brigade had found exactly what they were looking for.

“Man, we are late,” he muttered, and punched the couple of buttons that would let him page through to Ford.

The uplink connection crackled to life almost instantly. “Stanley, you are late! Where have you been?!”

“Havin’ a nice night out, Sixer. See you’re not dead yet, that’s good, find anythin’ memorable without me?”

Ford did something on his end to get the rest of the crew on speaker. By the time Clary showed up with her hair brushed back and a well-worn zip hoodie over a t-shirt, both Dipper and Ford were talking a mile a minute and Stan was struggling to keep up with the pictures and videos they kept referring to.

“Hey gang!”

“Hey, Clary!” A good fifteen minutes of excited chatter followed. Stan had some trouble tracking once she sat down across the table, drawing idle fingertip circles around the rim of her water glass and smiling right at him.

Mabel insisted on the last word, as usual, shooing Ford and Dipper off to bank the campfire. Her voice came through pitched low. “So did you guys have a nice evening? Because Tambry’s online update feed sure suggests you did….”

“Uh, what now? How have you even got internet out there?” Stan glanced across the table in confusion. Clary blinked back, but was already skimming through something on her phone. After a few moments she choked faintly and turned the screen so he could see a post title: Most Terrifying Moment Of My Short Life.

The video was dark and blurry, thank mercy for small favors, but Stan’s furious roar came through clear as a bell. He laid a hand over his eyes as Clary began to chuckle.

“What were you doing out at Lookout Point, hmmm?”

“Stargazing,” Clary replied, utterly deadpan.

“Suuuuuuuure you were. Are you two a thing yet?”

Clary quirked a brow at him and shook her head minutely. Stan considered. “Yanno, pumpkin, we’re still figurin’ it out. I mean, we made our apologies, we’re friends an’ all that, so I’m sure we’ll hear from her again somewhere down the line.” He reached across the table to hook an index finger into hers.

Mabel’s muffled wail of protest rose on the tiny speaker. “You’ve gotta be kidding! I manage to get you a full day alone and you still can’t make up your minds? You’re perfect for each other and you’re both too old to goof around!”

“I don’t know what to say, honey, we’re both very careful people.” Clary’s clasp tightened in warning as Stan ducked his head and swallowed shocked laughter. “We’re probably going to watch a movie or something before we get to bed. All of you be careful, got it? I expect to see you for dinner tomorrow.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get back earlier? I’ve got a multimedia presentation on Grunkle Stan’s most amazing feats ready to go! I know he’s a little rough around the edges but personal hygiene isn’t everything - “

Stan spluttered indignantly. Clary bit her lip and winked. “I already know he’s amazing, Mabel. Let us enjoy the rest of our evening and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yup, great job, sweetheart, be careful out there an’ don’t give Ford too much trouble. Whoops, connection’s waverin’, gotta scram, seeya soon.” The speaker squawked with a rising woooOOOOoooo of interference as Stan grabbed the antenna’s tip and swirled it around. He stabbed a couple buttons to kill the call. “Welp. Guess we know where she stands.”

“I feel a little mean, but could we maybe enjoy being a thing for more than an hour without it being public knowledge?”

“Are we a thing?” Stan squeezed her hand and rose, dragging the stepstool out from its usual corner.

“You think you’re getting rid of me after all that? I already know precisely how much of an asshole you are. That kind of info is gold.” She watched him clamber up onto one of the countertops, sitting back with arms loosely folded. “You all right up there?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, this’ll just take a minute.” He reached way up over the shelves, ran his fingers lightly along the right plank, jabbed a thumb into a knot in the old wood and pulled when he heard the latch pop. “Ford put all kinds of weird hideyholes into this place. Found ‘em all, at least I think.”

Stan stretched and twisted and grunted, ignoring Clary’s quiet chuckles from the kitchen table, and finally fished the bottle he wanted out of the back of the hidden cabinet. She stood by as he cautiously stepped off the counter and picked his way down the stepstool. “Here, check this out.”

“That is an awfully convoluted way to store your booze.”

The squat, long-necked bottle he’d picked out dropped into her grip with a faint slosh. “I’ve got two inquisitive-as-hell teenagers in the house, an’ Mabel is gettin’ pretty good at pickin’ locks. Most of this was here before I was, anyway.”

Clary ran her thumb over the dusty label and her brows popped up. “1976. Bicentennial cognac, no less. What the hell was Ford doing with stuff like this?”

“Heck if I know. I think he got a bunch of junk as gifts when he finished off some of those degrees - found an entire drawer full of handkerchiefs, fancy pens, congratulations cards, that kinda crap. There’re a couple more bottles wedged back there, never really took a close look.” He shuffled across the kitchen to pick through the glassware. “So, up for a nightcap? Do some actual stargazin’?”

Amber liquor gleamed against her palms as she tilted the bottle carefully to catch the light. “This is a decent label. Probably worth something just for the year.”

“Great. Then it’s worth bustin’ open for a celebration.”

Clary cracked him a half-delirious grin, like a teenager about to get into serious trouble. “Drinking this out of juice glasses would be an absolute crime. Let’s do it.”

They ended up on the porch, sitting on the top step for a better view of the sky. Stan fired up the cigar he’d retrieved from upstairs while Clary popped the bottle seal and tipped a bare thimbleful of aromatic liquor into each little glass. They clicked the enameled oranges together and sipped. To Stan it was pretty much just vaguely fruity booze, but she hummed in quiet approval. “Not bad, for a one-horse town.”

“Nothin’ but the best at the Mystery Shack.”

“I feel like I should argue that point, but I really can’t.”

The conversation meandered at intervals between comfortable silences. Eventually he tugged out his much-abused, overstuffed wallet and let her thumb through his photos. She chuckled under her breath as he explained some of the background. Really, that picture of Waddles duct-taped to Gompers didn’t make much sense no matter what kind of spin he put on it.

“Pretty recent stuff.”

“There wasn’t much worth keepin’ track of until last year, not gonna lie, though there’re a million pictures of Mr. Mystery with tourists out there somewhere...nice little side racket.”

“Do you keep money in this wallet from time to time?”

“Nah, I sew hidden pockets into everything for that.” He slipped his arm around her as she snorted in undignified laughter. “C’mon, show me your zoo.”

Clary’s pictures were all digital. She swiped through them, pictures of crooked cobblestone alleys and green flower-starred hillsides, pictures of her pretty dark-blonde niece and two gorgeous little girls, one about ten, one barely more than a toddler.

“My niece is Callista. That’s Nathalie, and the baby is Irene. This’s Phil…” The nephew was a handsome, square-jawed young man with a model-quality smile and a tendency to make funny faces in the background of the family shots. “The family athlete. He runs, he swims, he does that insane Swiss thing where you take the train up into the mountains, strap on your skis and hop out when you’re where you want to be…”

Stan let her ramble and watched her hands. He poured another tiny splash of brandy into her glass when she lifted it up to him. “These’re recent, too?”

“This spring.” One of her fingertips tapped uncertain rhythm against the phone’s corner.

The silence drew out for a while - not uncomfortable, just resigned, maybe - and at length he asked the obvious question. “Got any of your sister?”

She didn’t go stiff, exactly, though there was a subtle exhale. “It didn’t end as well for us as it did for you.”

He felt his heart sink a little for her sake. “Don’t have t’tell me anythin’.”

There was a chuckle, soft and dry as a fallen leaf. “We’re in need-to-know territory now, I’m afraid. It’s easier to show than to tell.” Her swift fingertips flicked across the screen of her phone, pulling up a folder, and within that a long series of dated photos. “This is Charlotte. Charlie.”

Clary’s sister was at least twelve or fifteen years older, blonder, beautiful in a blue-eyed way with a killer smile. A couple of the earliest snapshots could have been plucked from among the seniors in the high school yearbook he hadn’t been around to collect. The bubble cut gave way to a long flip, then went feathered in a familiar image: three blondes in sunhats, lined up oldest to youngest like nesting dolls.

The faces shifted by degrees as she skimmed through. Charlie’s hairstyles went on changing over the years; Callista and Phil started out tiny and grew older; Clary herself was only an occasional presence with her hair drawn back into its familiar knot and variations on her ever-present kerchief.

The shot she paused on was a portrait against a bright blue sky. Clary’s arm draped protectively around Charlie’s shoulders. They wore matching sunglasses, matching defiant grins, and matching designer scarves - Clary’s at her throat, Charlie’s tied jauntily around her shorn head.

Only a handful of pictures followed that one. Charlie’s face and her smile grew thinner but the defiance never wavered. The last was a badly lit candid shot of Clary curled up asleep against her sister on a couch, Charlie pressing a kiss to her brow.

“This was supposed t’be a two-man trip,” Stan said after a while as the screen dimmed.

“Mother died last February. Charlie this January. Last year sucked.” Clary’s laugh was faint and humorless. “Really a candidate for the worst of my life. I spent most of it flying back and forth between Denver and Zurich. Hammering out issues with Mother’s estate, trying to support the kids…we’d been making plans for years. Museums, river cruises, palaces, cathedrals, Paris, Rome…this fucking cross-country tour….”

He could make out her shadowed features by the porch light, mouth bitter and taut. “She made me promise that I’d do this, with the stupid car. Made me promise to do a bunch of other things I didn’t much want to do. Wrote up a bulleted list because she knew I’d make a spreadsheet of the thing and work my way through it. She was right, though, goddamn it.”

Crickets sang into the quiet as Clary forced her breathing to steady. When she spoke again it was measured, and stoic, and barely audible. “She knew me better than I knew her and I will never get to fix that.”

Stan picked up her glass, sloshed in another dollop of brandy, and pressed it into her free hand. She looked down at it for a tired moment, then raised it in salute. “To absent friends. I’m sorry to dump all that on you.”

“To better days.” He tapped his glass against hers. “An’ I promise, they do get better.” They drank slowly and watched the waning quarter-moon track up through the treetops.

“You better take good care of your damnfool brother.”

“Oh, I do. I try, anyway. Some days’re harder than others.”

Leaning into her felt so nice, despite the deepening chill and the gradual stiffness in his legs, that he resisted the weight of weariness longer than he probably should’ve. Eventually he allowed his arm to tighten around her and pressed his cheek into her hair. “It’s gettin’ late an’ you’re gonna be on the road soon. We both oughta get some shut-eye. Anythin’ I can do to help you crash out? Wanna doze off in front of a flick?”

“Mmm. I might stay and watch the stars for a while longer. You probably can’t see how gorgeous it is out here, you’re so used to it.”

“You’re gonna sit here an’ brood half the night, aren’t ya.”

“I love that you’re a sharp observer of the human condition, Stan.” Clary accepted his empty glass with a tiny smile. “I don’t know if I like it as much when you focus it on me.”

Stan shoved the cork home in the old bottle, knowing full well that he should respect her privacy, then felt the words bubble out of him unbidden. “Nope. No way.” She turned a gimlet eye upon him, but he shook his head, resolute. “No damn way. What you oughta do is spend the night.”

Her brows shot up. “What, were you planning to banish me to the back seat of my car?“

“You oughta spend the night with me.” Clary froze in gratifying shock. He took the opportunity to stroke her sharp chin with the pad of his thumb. “C’mon, you already know I make a pretty decent pillow.”

Flickers of expression crossed her features, almost too fast to follow, surprise-amusement-annoyance-grief-exhaustion. “All right. That’s a pitch. Are you going to sell me on it?”

“Sweetpea, if I laid an unwanted hand on you I’d pull back a stump.”

“Ha! You’re not wrong.” She cocked her head, eyes softening. “I think you might be weighing your odds, though.”

Stan cleared his throat. “Maybe a little. I swear I’ll behave. Look, it’ll be warm. If you need t’talk or somethin’ in the wee hours you can just wake me up. I’ve done - “ He paused, because her lips were beginning to tremble. “I’ve done more’n my share of rough nights alone.”

Clary pulled it together by main force of will, blinking a few times, the fine line between her brows deepened into a sharp notch. After a long minute or so she closed her eyes and sighed. “All right,” she murmured. “My air mattress or your lumpy bachelor twin?”

“The lumpy bachelor twin got hauled off and torched while I wasn’t here to argue – after I got all the cash out of it, fortunately. I’ve got a nice new orthopedic full-size. Tight quarters, but not that tight.”

She slipped her free arm around him for a momentary hug, then eased out of his half embrace to rise. “I’ll drop off the glasses and get my pajamas. You go pick up all your laundry.”

“I don’t need to pick up my laundry,” Stan groused, levering himself stiffly upright. He accepted Clary’s hand when she offered, grumbling all the way. The brandy went back upstairs with him because hell if he was going to climb the counter again to stash it in the hidden cabinet. He had time to change into the usual sleepytime uniform of boxers and tank top and was tossing discarded socks from the floor into the hamper when her knock came light upon his door.

At least the sheets were fresh, even if he’d forgotten to make the bed, as usual. “Uh – one sec.” Stan stalled until he’d gotten the last of the dirty clothes rounded up, then let her in, rubbing the back of his neck as she stepped through to survey the sorta-controlled chaos of his personal domain. There was one sad bedside light which left the far corners dim – just as well he’d never upgraded to a decent reading lamp.

The pajamas were lightweight, a loose jersey shirt over shorts, her hair pulled back into an unruly ponytail. Stan squirmed a little as she swept eyes across the room, missing nothing. Her smile widened by slow degrees. “In my defense I wasn’t exactly expectin’ company.“

Clary nudged at his chest, then his bicep, turning him around. “It’s your space. I don’t care. Go on, get, I’m sleepy here.” He shuffled obligingly over towards the bed, then stilled as he felt her palm come to rest at the back of his right shoulder. The careful arc of her thumb traced over the burn scars – he’d been in actual sleeves all month. She hadn’t seen it.

“That, ah. That’s – “

She leaned in, her warmth making the length of his back prickle, and kissed him right at the base of the neck where the most stubborn of his stiff vertebrae jutted. Stan shut up. “If I need to know you can tell me another time. Bed. Now.”

It took a few minutes of shifting around, fitting in with no space to spare, but eventually they nestled face to face with the blankets pulled over. Clary plucked the glasses from his nose and set them behind her on the nightstand. Stan tugged at her ponytail with a sad questioning look and she crinkled her nose at him. “Men and hair,” she muttered, but pulled out the elastic and put it aside, then reached way out to snap off the lamp.

They gradually relaxed together in the near-dark. One of Clary’s hands eased between them to rest against his breastbone. Stan leaned in to kiss her temple, listening to the low rusty rumble of her chuckle and then the rhythm of her breathing as it grew deep and even.

He drifted across the line into peaceful sleep without really noticing he’d done it.

Tumblr masterpost

Clary looks over, sober-eyed. “You don’t have to take any of this more seriously than you want to, Stan.”

I am serious enough to see where this goes in a couple months.

I am completely serious.

Take the very last exit to Friendsville.

#Gravity Falls #gfdatingsim #DDtMMW #Swooning Over Stans #Stanley Pines #OClicious #fanfic

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arkus-rhapsode · 5 years

Text

Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest Chapter 12 Review

Oh my god... What the heck is even going on?

So our cover page is Natsu and Lucy, and Natsu I hope you enjoy that brain freeze.

So we open on Jellal confronting Touka. We learn like how Avatar was devoted to black magic there was a group devoted to white magic. Now this is cool, but literally if you watch the anime recently, that arc was done in 5 episodes. So this feels really odd on how much effort is being put into it.

Like if there was like something tying into Tenrou or hell edolas, that make more sense, given all thee time on it.

So Jellal describes White magic as a philosophy of nothingness, which that doesn’t make sense. Fans of yugioh gx might compare this the darkness and light in that series and how darkness led to creation while light was subjugation. But Black magic is clearly about ending life or manipulating life. I guess you could dumb it down to all life, but literal Ankherseram black magic is portrayed as nothing but death. So wouldn’t white be about life? I guess nothingness as life without personality isn’t wrong, but this feels like a stretch.

Also, Mashima said anyone could learn any type of magic. So why is that an abnormality? Like if this was Black Clover where you are assigned a single affinity that be one thing.

Suddenly Laxus steps in, and want to make this clear. I don’t exactly hate the idea behind this. That Laxus wants to defend someonew ho is a part of his family, given his new found view on FT, and its using the family aspect of FT on its head. Someone bad could be using FT’s family mentality for personal benefit. Which is interesting.

Okay, well Jellal has a reason, she is suspect and as a guild master he has authority to take her in. However, Laxus you of all people know that people in your guild will still harm it.

On the one hand im torn, the shounen loving half of my brain wants to see this fight. But the logical half says that these two are mature adults with enough common sense to take this to the run knights. And confrontation is over after this page.

Yeah for a chapter named after the two, its got very little to do with theem. Instead.... The worst thing in the chapter happens. We cut to Diablos’ ship and we see this.

Yes you are seeing this right. For people who were saying I was to harsh, calling this a submissive Erza fetish that Mashima is putting out, I ask you read this chapter.

You know I can’t tell if Skullion means this is temporary as in terms of magic, or temporary as Kyria will grow bored, but I do know that this is nothing but sick and tastess. Also props to Madmorel for having some class to be disgusted by the perv in the group. Like that is becoming a rarity these days.

We are guided down to the lower deck where natsu and wendy are being held, the motion sickness keeping them in check.

I’ve been putting this off long enough, its time to rant. This is bull shit. People told me, i was too harsh on mashima, but at the least I thought this was some sort of temporary thing that was meant so Kyria could get a win in a fight, but this might be some permanent magic effect feels disgusting.

Now, people say that this happened cause people would rag on Erza, called Erza fights awful, and that now Mashima is going in the complete opposite dirction. You didn’t like strong erza, fine! Here’s weak Erza, you happy cynics?

But that’s not the case. People didn’t like Erza because she was “too strong” she was someoone who went from this amazing badass female character, to this static friendship speech spewing tool that never truly got any development. Its painful for people to see a character like Erza not grow after she had developed so much in ToH, but it just was never followed through. All the times she won just felt like a poor spectacle without any character behind it.

Now you could say an erza who needs to get her strength back could be character development. No. Cutting away a person’s strength with “magic” is not character development, its forced regression. Its the author literally creating an unrealistic situation bcause he has no idea what to do with her after ToH, hell he can’t even fully commit to a love story between her and jellal.

When Erza came onto the scene, she was cool, in control, yet could over react at times. To see her be pushed to her lowest by ToH and then recover and face midnight in OS, is peak Erza character shining through. That this is how erza’s development deserved to be treated. But Watching Erza crawl on the ground, be spanked, and cry for mercy like a hentai doll, all because of plot convince magic is so gross to me. Its ejecting the Erza that we all love and stripping her of all that personality just for this.

So if you blame this development on people who were too hard on Mashima about how he was writing Erza, I, a critic and very judgemental person, find this worse than any of the nakama power or skimpy armors.

Erza being trapped in Kyoka’s sex dungeon was bad, but you know what, EErza actievly resisted it. She didn’t want to be there aand tried to fight back. It wasn’t handled well, but that t least felt like whatt her character would do in this situation. But this was forced upon her and this is nothing more than an Erza made for this arc.

Also, lets step out of this and look at this from the meta perspective that this is also extremely lazy. In Eden’s zero there’s a villain who is all about subjugating women right now, and Mashima couldn’t be bothered to not let that bleeed into his other work. If that doesn’t scream creately lazy, than I don’t know what will. Also that frog thing in Eden’s zero is actuaally better giveen the fact he’s not mind bending away personality, he’s forcibly turning them in statues to do with what he pleases against their will.

Im not saying this cause im anti ecchi or that im anti mashima, im anti such a hack story writting device that weather you stuck it out as a fan of erza’s till the end of FT or liked her at first but than soured on her, I ask, would you tolerate this? I’m not claiming ownership of the character of Erza, but I am asking do you think that this is worth a character arc because our author couldn’t think of anything better to do with her. You know if you knew Erza was so strong,Ad that in actuality she would sweep away most threats, why did you bring her? I honestly would’ve preferred Jellal and Erza being out of the action cause they had a kid or something. Erza having to pick between biological family and her guild family seems like a better direction to take her character in than this.

To see Erza cry because someone’s magic made her into a slave is so lacking in power than say the sheer emotional weight of watching simon die. Like this is shit is just awful.

We cut to Luccy and here is where I get to credit thee art. Sure Lucy is in a bikini, but what matters in frame is the wounds on her legs. Which is a nice us of having aa skimpy dress and not sexualizing it.

We get a flashback of Lucy realizing Kyriaa took her friends and this is where I give Caramille a big fuck you. Oh sure, this did happen after they showed up, but Diabolos clearly was going to find the place eventually and more importantly, you did fuck all. Like, go screw cause you have contributed literally nothing.

We find out that there is another ship in the area and that Gray is okay because he was saved by you can guess who...

Okay on the one hand, this definitely seems like Brandish’s kind of entrance, but on the other. Fuck you, Hiro. Like she just passed by and saved Gray? Hw? The entire ocean was either freezing or evaporating, what is your range? Also, who is in charge of Alverez? Yajeel? Oi...

Post Chapter Follow up: Its easy to say why I don’t like this chapter. I feel so sick by the sheer amount of laziness and disgust in the slave Erza plot. Like, my god this is so wrong. Not because of the subject, human slavery makes sense in a series aimed at teenagers, but the sheer disrespect that Hiro treated this character, made my blood boil. At the very least in Alvarez, Erza still seemed like she was the same character from beginning of the series.

People who follow me weekly on this review series are probably going to ask when I will stop harping on this Erza thing. Well each week, it somehow get worse and more gross. First time it felt like a cheap win, second it was bad use of domination, now this is full blown fetish material.

As for the brandish thing, I know why she is here, Lucy is literally not strong enough to handle 3 DE’s by herself with a few exceeds, and I’d accept that Brandish reentering the series. But maybe leave out Gray? I guess you could say that this is a subversion of the Musica captured by Doryu, but this feels lazier. You could’ve just made this a big “step up Lucy plot,” but no, had to save Gray, even though Skullion should’ve notice when his magic didn’t actually ash up Gray. Plus think about, if they save save Natsu and Wendy this arc and beat these three dragon eaters, wouldn’t some added bit of tension to the quest be finding diablos’s hideout and saving Gray from the “dinner table?”And I was cool with the kidnapped gray thing, but no, we had to have kidnapped everyone else.Also if he was made small how did he survive the water? Like he’s the size of a pin, he’d drown.

Now the stuff with Laxus and Jellal is actually fairly good Its an interesting take on FTs standards vs the consequences of their past when we are suppose to be rooting for Touka to be extracted. And involving two characters that really have been in the moral gray spectrum make them the most qualified for this subject matter. While i definitely didn’t like the Touka plot at first from how disconnected it was from everything (and it really is kinda shoed in on this point) it still is the more interesting plot. It has more intresting ideas than, “more dragons” and is involving the characters that come off as the most interesting.

Final Verdict: 3/10

There is clearly some interesting idea at work here

However, the way the plotline for the dragon portion of this arc has become a mess

I don’t use this phrase lightly, “Erza literally deserves better than this”

Plot convince playhouse at its finest

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batboys-and-other-messes · 6 years

Text

Elevator (Tim Drake X Fem!Reader)

Requested: NO A/N: This was supposed to be short and sweet and then I lost control …. I had a conversation with @sassyshoulderangel319 (I can already type that url out by heart) about this post and which one I would choose and then somehow this formed in my heart and jesus, it was such a good idea. I put it under a Read More because it's ridiculously long and seriously… But I hope you guys like it!! Word count: 6256 (YES You read correctly. I lost control) Warning(s): Claustrophobia Tagged: @icequeen206 @crescent-bluemoon @nanna-the-batmum @xoleaox @sleep-depiravation [You wanna be tagged in my next piece? Just shoot me a message or ask!]

Your feet dragged across the floor as you walked towards the elevator.

Today was one of these days again. The kind that never ended and just seemed to drag on to eternity.

Your Head was pounding, your eyes were tired and your legs felt like someone had filled them with metal and put a magnet underneath the whole floor.

The building was already empty, which wasn’t a surprise at that time. It was already well past midnight and even the cleaning staff had been there and left again. You were alone, walking down the hallway.

Well, technically ‘alone’ except the one old guy who was lying there on his desk. You weren’t even sure if he was still alive but from what you heard through the gossip of the others, he just went through a nasty divorce and practically lived at his desk.

Poor Robert.

Well, at least he had a desk.

You knew you shouldn’t complain. You got a summer job at Wayne Enterprises. It was an opportunity some of your classmates would kill for, but there was always a catch with these kinds of things. What you didn’t expect when you signed all these confidentiality agreements was that your supervisor would be a lazy asshole that made you do all kinds of things you shouldn’t have to do.

But you had no say in the matter. Absolutely none.

So you sucked it up and got shit done.

And now that you had carried all these binders to the upper floor it was time to go down, get a taxi and sleep through tomorrow, your day off.

Almost lifelessly you pressed the elevator button, feeling like your finger might break from that little action.

Even the buttons up here were posh. The only thing missing was diamond-encrusting them. Maybe the Top floor had butlers that pushed the buttons for them?

You smiled at your own stupid joke, glad that nobody saw you. The doors opened and you stepped in. You pressed the last button and took out your phone. You haven’t had time to glance even once at it and were surprised to find 9 missed calls and about three dozen different messaged on it.

You were popular?

You expression fell when you saw that all of them were from your best friend.

The elevator moved but instead of going down it started to rise and you groaned internally. Someone from the higher-ups was still in the building, at this time?

You focused back on your phone. You phone signaled that it was very low on battery but you just clicked it away before you opened the newest messages and started to read them.

BITCH did you die or did you forget how to use your damn phone?? ANSWER ME Or do you think you are better than me now that you have a JOB and a PURPOSE in life? smh Hello??? You need to humble yourself Anyways, I have good news I’m gonna assume you asked ‘Oh Jenny, what good news?’ I found your lonely ass a boyfriend. I know, I know, thank me later Or thank me now Well, its actually gonna be a double date And I kinda already promised you’ll come I swear he’s cute Kinda Mine is They are brothers But he also has a sister, if you’re not in the mood for a guy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your gay tendencies towards batgirl ANYWAYS Sorry to break your coming out? Or is it rather a Passing BI? haha Yeah okay, that was a bad one That’s what you get for ignoring me Bitch

You closed your eyes as you heard the elevator ding, and the doors open. You were too tired for this shit. Way too tired for any of this.

Also, who wasn’t gay for Batgirl?

That was normal, right?

You started typing out your reply, too focused not to use too many curses and to keep her family out of it, to even notice the stranger that entered.

A moment passed and suddenly everything happened at once. You hit send, then the elevator shook, it stopped with a BANG, your phone died and the lights went out.

It all happened in the blink of an eye and for a moment you thought you had died.

And suddenly, your realized your situation.

‘I am stuck in an elevator’, was the only thing you could think of.

The person next to you sighed deeply and you let out a scream and jumped to the nearest wall.

‘WE are stuck in an elevator’

Fuck.

You took in a shaky breath as you felt cold and hot at the same time. Your sleepiness was gone, being replaced by a thousand pictures of crashing elevators and that one weird X-Factor Episode where (supposedly) death himself was in one and you only heard the screams of these people and you really didn’t want to die in an elevator with a stranger. You had so many things you still wanted to do! Hell, you haven’t even paid your student loan yet!

Though this thought calmed you a little bit.

Fuck capitalism.

“Hey” A male voice spoke up somewhere from the left. “Are you okay?” he asked and you gulped.

Okay, (Y/N), don’t show him that you’re having a panic attack.

“No.” you answered truthfully.

Yeah okay, that didn’t go as planned.

Maybe it was the adrenalin or the utter terror in your bones, but you weren’t really able to lie right now.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll just have to find the emergency-button.” He said and he sounded young. Something about his voice and the way he said it made you feel calmer but the fact that you were locked in here with a stranger unnerved you.

You nodded, realizing that he couldn’t see you, you added a quick “Okay.”

You moved towards where you remembered the buttons to be and suddenly you felt a hand and you yelped.

His hands were cold.

“Oh sorry.” He apologized and you heard him press a button, once.

You two waited and he pressed it again.

After pressing it about fifteen times nothing happened.

The darkness was getting to you and your hands started to sweat as you cursed yourself for not taking the elevator with the glass walls and the freaking panorama view. At least the moon would’ve provided some light but no, you were lazy and took the first one you saw.

“Weird.” The guy said and you didn’t answer. But it seemed like he was more talking to himself. “Usually the emergency generator should’ve turned on by now. And if that one failed the backup should’ve been enough to at least power the elevators.”

Maybe he was just thinking out loud but every single word filled you with a deeper sense of dread.

Was it common knowledge how many emergency-generators this damn building had? What did this mean? Where you going to die in here?

You heard some rustling and then a sigh.

“My phones dead.” He said and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out if he was talking to you or if he just really enjoyed his own voice.

Either way, every statement that left his mouth wasn’t good.

“I guess we have to wait.” He said and you nodded again which, of course, he couldn’t see.

“Okay” you managed to say meekly.

A silence settled between the two of you and it wasn’t one of the good kind. It was rather the “My crush just saw me scratch my ass and pick my nose while farting” kind of silence that made one want to fling oneself out of the nearest window and into certain death.

It was very awkward silence.

You heard the guy clear his throat. “Uhm… Hello.”

Oh shit, he wanted to converse.

You started to hyperventilate for the fifth time in the span of a second before you almost slapped yourself.

Get your shit together, (Y/N). It’s a conversation. You can do this. Remember? You had plenty of conversations in your life!

But how should you answer? ‘Hello’ would sound too stiff. ‘Hi’ would sound like you were best friends and you didn’t even know this guy. But going back to Hello would signal to him that you wanted to talk which you actually didn’t. Meaning you wanted to have a conversation with him because it seemed to calm you down but you didn't want to be trapped in the social construct of a conversation and then accidentally make it really awkward and end up trapped in a long awkward silence knowing that he would judge you for the whole time you two were trapped in there. You really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone who might be the last person to see you alive.

“Okay, I guess you don’t want to talk.” He said slowly and he sounded so unnervingly calm.

“Yes. I mean No. I mean No I- I mean I don’t want to talk. I mean I don't want not to talk- Ugh. I WANT to talk but I tried to negate it twice and it came out sounding like I didn’t want to talk when in fact I do.” You said and you mentally slapped yourself for that.

Great thinking, (Y/N). No more freestyle-conversation for you until you learn how to act like a person, you moron.

Suddenly you heard him chuckle at that before he started to laugh as quietly as he could. It seemed very sincere and gave you the more reason to slam your head against the wall. But you didn’t.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” he said and you wondered if he was lying.

“What’s your name?” he asked and you blurted out “Nineteen.”

A second passed.

“Your name is Nineteen?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“No. I-I am nineteen years old. My name is (Y/N). I don’t know why but I thought you asked for my age because everyone here asks for my age first since this is actually just a summer job, you know and yeah.” you said.

You didn’t know why you were still alive right now.

“Oh, cool. You got a summer job here?” He continued as if he still thought you were a sane person and you were very grateful for that.

“Y-Yeah. There was this representative at my college and I won the contest for a ‘summer job’. Depending on how I do, I might even get a permanent job offer for when I’m done with college.” You said.

Your feet were hurting you and as if he could hear your thoughts you heard him sit down on the dirty elevator-floor before you could even ask yourself if it was okay for you to do so.

“Oh yeah, I heard of that. Congratulations, by the way.” His voice came from his sitting position. There was a smile in his voice and a sincerity you haven’t heard in a long time from someone else.

“Thank you.” You said, mimicking him and sitting down too. Your foot bumped against his when you tried to stretch your legs so you immediately pulled them back and just crossed your legs.

“What’s your name?” you asked, seemingly way calmer than before.

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“Tim.” He said and you silently nodded.

“Hi, Tim.” You said and he let out a short chuckle.

“Hi (Y/N).”

“Do you think we are going to die here?” you asked.

“Okay, that escalated quickly.” He mumbled more to himself before you heard him continue.

“No. This building is very safe. The only thing worrying me is why our phones didn’t work. Mine is always charged and the backup generators should work anyways unless someone turned them off on purpose.”

You knew his words were supposed to be aimed at you but somewhere in the middle of it, he seemed to be talking to himself again. You still continued to listen.

“Well, my phone was low on battery anyway.” You said and he stopped at that for a moment.

“Mine was fully charged.” He said.

A pause.

“When did it turn off?” he asked and something in his voice made you answer it immediately.

“The same second the lights went out.” you said and even you realized how weird that sounded. There was still a little bit of battery left, a text message couldn’t possibly drain that much energy at once.

He was quiet for some time.

“What... does that mean?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know yet, but it's not a good sign.” He said before he quickly added. “I still think we are safe here. Its probably a robbery of some kind and the energy will be back as soon as they are done.” He assured you and you didn’t believe a word he said.

“Bullshit.” You said forcefully in his direction.

“If what you just implied was true and someone messed with the energy enough to turn both our phones off at the top of the building then that’s definitely not a normal robbery. It's probably something bigger. Like super-villain big. So stop lying to me.”

You let your words hang in the air between the two of you and you just wished you could see his expression right now.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said after a while and you were surprised that he didn’t try to lie his way out of this.

“I didn’t want to worry you because you already seemed pretty freaked out.” He explained and you could understand that.

“Fair point.” You said and you both fell into your own thoughts again as the silence started.

“Hey, Tim?” You spoke after a while, which felt like an eternity. “Is Tim short for something? Like Timothy? Or Timotheus? Or is it just Tim?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask why you would voice such a stupid question.

“Timothy.” He said and you could swear could hear him laugh but he didn’t make a sound. “But I prefer Tim.”

“Oh, so Timothy, like the Wayne one.” You said. “Or was it Drake-Wayne? Was it just Drake? Like the rapper? Shoot, Maybe I should know this since I'm working here. I hope they don’t quiz me on this or else it would really be embarrassing. I don’t even know how many children Mr. Wayne has. Is there like a chart or something?? They don’t quiz the employees here, do they?” you talked yourself into panic again.

“No. They definitely don’t.” he stated calmly and you were sure he was making fun of you.

“I mean they shouldn’t… It’s a weird thing to ask someone. And if someone does, just shoot a random number and make something up. That's what I like to do, anyway.” He said and you nodded, making a mental note of that.

“Right.” You said.

“You get anxious really easily.” Tim broke the silence absentmindedly.

“Yeah, It’s the Anxiety.” You shot back and it made him laugh again.

“Yeah, I figured. It was like my second guess.” He said and you smiled.

“Second? What was your first guess then?”

“The first was that you’re secretly the criminal responsible for this. Maybe your escape plan had failed and now that you’re trapped here with a civilian your cover is about to be blown.”

You would lie if you said you wouldn’t like to hear the rest of this story.

“Wow.” You said. “That’s… very specific…. Su- Suspiciously specific.” You said, letting that sink in.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this, Timothy?” Was that even his real name?

“No.” The pause before he spoke was way too long for your comfort.

Way too long.

“And please call me Tim.”

“I’m curious now. Was there like… a third theory you had?” you licked your dry lips in nervousness.

“Yeah. That you’re nervous because of me.”

“Well, I certainly am now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. You could be a murderer for all I know. I mean you are so calm while we're stuck here, that kinda screams psychopath. And your name is Timothy. I dunno, there are a lot of red flags here.” You rambled on, not even sure yourself if you’re joking or not. But you mostly were.

“Hey, whats wrong with Timo-“

Suddenly you felt the elevator drop an inch and you almost pissed yourself.

Then the lights flickered and there was suddenly light illuminating the elevator.

“Oh, the lights are back on.” He said, looking up before he stood up again, pressing the emergency button. There was a voice that came from the speakers above and you registered him saying something but you didn’t really catch what he was saying as you just kept staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

It was him.

Timothy Drake-Wayne.

FUCK.

It was him all along.

What the fuck did you say to him?

You were sure you insulted him at least three times in the span of this conversation and he didn’t even say a word! And looking at him now he sure looked a lot more handsome than he did in the papers and he was your boss in some kind of way, no, he was the boss of your bosses boss and you just called him a murderer and you would probably be kicked out the next thing right now and you wouldn’t even mind because why the fuck did you have to run your mouth like this?!?

“This might take a while. So, where were we?” he asked, letting himself slide down before glancing at you again.

“Right. I was possibly a psychopath.”

“I am so so so sorry.” Your face exploded in all shades of red as you pressed your lips together, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“What for?” he chuckled with a lopsided smile. “I mean the name thing was kinda rude and I honestly want to know whats wrong with my name but you were just being honest.” He shrugged and you kind of wished the elevator would plunge to you to death. “Not many people here tell me that to my face.”

“Yeah, but it was only because I couldn’t see your face!”

“Why? Whats wrong with my face now?”

“Nothing! Its ridiculously stunning and it belongs to the guy owning this damn elevator.” You almost cursed.

“Bruce Wayne owns it.” He corrected you and he seemed surprised by your choice of words. “... and thanks?”

“You’re his son.” You retorted.

“Adoptive son.”

“Same thing.”

At that he paused, looking at the corner of the elevator. “No. Not according to some people.”

You stopped mid-thought.

“Oh.” You said, not knowing what else to say.

But you had already shot yourself in the leg once, so why not reload?

“But why should it matter what other people think? It’s not their decision to make how you feel towards someone. Or what your relationship with them is.” You looked at your hands, fumbling with your fingers as you felt his eyes on you.

“Sometimes… biological parents… aren’t good.” you added.

Your heart was beating and you knew he was watching you but he didn’t say a word. He just listened to you, waiting for you to speak out what you were thinking. What you were implying.

You weren’t sure if you could.

“Are yours?” he asked and it felt like a little nudge. Soft but present. Like a calm hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to make the step.

What was it with him? How could he make you feel so calm with just his voice? With just his presence? With this look in his eyes that you didn’t even have to see.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m eighteen..” You said. “It shouldn’t matter”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” he said. His knees were up and his arms rested on them, crossed. He didn’t look like the co-owner of a company. He just looked like a guy with a lot on his mind. And lusciously messy hair. “But it does.”

Suddenly you heard a sound and both of you looked at your phones.

“My phone is on again... And its fully charged?” you said in confusion before he confirmed that his was too.

You both started to type away as you opened your friend's Messages.

Did you die again? HELLOOOOOOO?? You can’t insult my eyebrows and then JUST LEAVE ?!?!? What the fuck is wrong with you?? You know how insecure I am about this

There was a string of other nonsensical messages but you decided to reply immediately before the power went out again.

Stuck in an elevator. Power and phone went off. Just turned on again Still stuck And your eyebrows are shit

You smiled as you saw the bubble pop up, indicating that she was typing.

OKAY, FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? Second of all Are you okay? Did you call for help? Are you alone? Should I call and keep you company?

You quickly glanced over at Tim, as he seemed to be texting someone too, a slight frown on his face before you looked back at your phone.

Nope, not alone

A pause.

And who’s there with you??

You typed.

Theres a guy with me

Old or cute?

Second And why are these the only two options?

You only realized how true this was when you typed it out. You were definitely attracted to him. Of course, you couldn’t fall for a cute barista or someone else. No, It had to be untouchable people like Batgirl and Bruce Wayne’s freaking son.

At least you weren’t aiming low.

What kind of cute?

Tim Drake

Since when is that a measurement in your book? I mean I won’t complain. He’s cute?

No It’s him.

???

The guy. In the Elevator. With me. Is him.

There was a long pause in which she didn’t even type and you were afraid that she had placed her phone down before you saw the bubble pop up.

Use protection.

You closed your eyes in resignation.

I’m going to slap you

Well, whats the problem?

I insulted him... I think?

Of course you did

I mean it

Thats the problem

Are you going to help me or be useless?

I dunno… My eyebrows are still hurt

JENNIFER

Whoa we’re busting ot the full names now? Heavy.

I’m not good at this?

Good at what?

Talking

I know

Jen...

Seriously, what are you trying to do? Apologize? What am I supposed to help you here with?? Give a girl something to work with!

You thought about your reply for a moment before typing it up.

Flirt?

You died just typing that up.

“I got some good and some bad news,” Tim said.

His voice ripped you out of your thought and you almost dropped the phone in a panic, afraid that he could read what you had just written. You placed it display-down on your lap, blushing.

“W-what?” you asked as you looked at him.

“Well, the good news is that there was a power outage and in the whole city. Something like a force-field-thing but we don’t know more.”

You blinked.

“Why is that good news?” you asked, confused.

“It means nobody targeted this building specifically. We are safe. Locked up but safe.”

Somehow, that made sense. But only in Gotham.

“And the bad news?” you asked.

“There is a lot happening right now and we might be stuck in here for a while because there are other emergencies that happened.” he explained carefully and you nodded.

That meant you would spend some time with him in here.

You glanced at your phone to see what your friend had answered.

Show him your tits

You blocked her.

“You look angry.” You noted, lying on the floor with his jacket underneath your head. He had insisted you take it and you learned how stubborn he could be.

“’M not.” He said absentmindedly while frowning at his phone.

“You sure do.” You said. He probably wasn’t even listening to you.

“Nope.” He said casually.

“Yupp.”

“No.”

“Ye-hes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop it.”

“Nope.”

This was fun.

“Who are you texting?” you asked, bored out of your mind. It looked like he was doing something very important and you asked yourself if he was a workaholic. Or maybe he just enjoyed someone else's company more than yours?

Were you that boring?

“My brother.” He said, glancing over at you for a moment with a quick smile and suddenly you felt reassured again.

Damn, he was good.

“Hm.” You just said, not knowing how to answer to that.

“Why did you stop texting?” he asked, still typing away and you turned your head to him.

“What do you mean?” you asked confused.

“When your phone worked again you were texting with someone. And then you stopped.” he stated curiously and you realized that it was a main trait of his. Curiosity.

“My best friend.” You said, circling your finger over your phone that was laying on your stomach.

“But she’s being obnoxious again.” You finished drawing your circles and started drawing them in the other direction.

“How come?”

It was such a simple question but he seemed genuinely interested. At the same time, he wasn’t even looking at you and was typing on his screen. You didn’t know what to make of it.

Talk about mixed signals.

“She’s trying to set me up on blind dates and … she really doesn’t have the slightest clue what my type is.”

You paused a moment and he looked at you, fully.

“Jesus, that sounded stuck-up.” You realized horrified. “W-what I meant is that I don’t even know if I have a type myself and I didn’t mean it in a physical appearance-wise way but its just really uncomfortable when you sit with someone and try to talk to him and its just obvious they are here to hook up with your friend and not interested to talk to you, at all. You know?” You said, squinting up at the ceiling of the elevator, wondering why you just told him that. Why should he care?

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation.

You would probably regret this a lot tomorrow.

“Why... don’t you just tell her no?”

It sounded so simple when he said it.

Because she always agrees first and then it’s my fault when I cancel.

Because she is a little bit manipulative like that sometimes.

Because she keeps playing the victim whenever I do.

There where so many replies you could’ve given him but you didn’t. Instead, you sighed.

“Because I’m a pushover.” you said, and it rang true to you.

“You don’ sound like one.” He said, unsure of how to word it. “Or at least you don’t seem like one.”

“Thanks, guy who knows me for like two hours. At least that means I can fake dominance?”

He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, ‘dominance’ is maybe a bit far-fetched,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shut up, Timothy.”

“I would really appreciate it f you would stop calling me that.”

“Why? What's wrong with Timothy?”

“Maybe we should start recording diary entries to keep track of the days that had passed? In case someone finds us too late?”

You had taken off your shoes and his head rested on your bag. He had rolled up his sleeves and his tie was gone and it was seriously dangerous for you to look at him right now.

Somehow being stuck with him for 4 hours fo far made him seem so much more human than you would’ve ever imagined. This wasn’t the rich business-boy you heard of. This was fidgety, curious and sassy Tim. The elevator Tim.

“Jokes on you, I already made seven entries so far. Currently on entry eight, pondering about the symbolism of the elevator.” His Phone was gone and he was staring at the blinking lights with you. Occasionally closing his eyes as he seemed to be just as tired as you were.

In a normal setting you would’ve never been caught dead in such a position but somehow you stopped caring around the first hour that had passed. Social construct couldn’t harm you here anymore. It was a surreal plane of existence.

“Maybe the lights are the light that leads us to the afterlife?” you theorized and you saw him grin at that.

“And the buttons symbolize the levels of hell?” he added

“Heaven and hell.” You corrected.

“We’re somewhere on the top floor. What does that mean?”

You thought about it.

“That Satan and God are fighting for custody and god is winning?” you improvised on the spot.

He let out a laugh.

“Great. I’m gonna get adopted again.”

At that, you burst out laughing.

“Why do you carry so many chocolate-bars in your bag? Did you raid a vending machine or something?” Tim looked at you, deeply concentrated as he took a bite from one of them.

“Pff, Because I always am prepared for being stranded on a deserted island like in Cast Away, duh.” You said, mockingly.

“And chocolate bars would be your number one priority in such a case?” he raised an eyebrow, crunching at the chocolate-chip one.

“What would be yours, Mr. Know-it-all?” you asked

“Water. Water and shelter, obviously.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly carry around a freaking tent with me everywhere.” You chuckled.

“Pff you could. With the right amount of dedication.” He smiled.

“People would think I’m paranoid.”

“A small price for survival, (Y/N).”

“Guess I’ll just die then?” you shrugged.

“Yeah …. Please don’t.”

He smiled weakly but there was something in his voice you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Tim said, eyes determined.

“I would kill Robin, Marry Nightwing and fuck Red Robin.” He said and you chuckled at the speed of which he answered that question.

“What did Robin ever do to you?”

“Do I have to answer this?” he asked dramatically.

“No, but why marry Nightwing? I want to know your thoughts behind it.”

“He seems like someone you could trust?” he motioned the usual ‘I don’t know’ motion and you accepted it.

“I’m not gonna question the Red Robin part.” You assured him and it seemed to pique his interest.

“Why not? Is it like….. a common thing to want?” he sounded almost worried and definitely confused.

“Well not that I know... but he seems like a loveable dork.” You chuckled. “He saved me once.”

“He… did?” He asked.

“Yeah. I almost walked into traffic once while I was distracted, long story, and he just pulled me back while swinging by and yelled ‘PAY ATTENTION’ and then he slammed against a building.” You laughed softly at the memory. “I felt so guilty for it but he was already gone before I could apologize.”

Tim went silent after that.

“If we ever get out of here, I want to eat a triple cheeseburger. Not the tiny ones. I’m talking about the ones that are as big as my face. The ones you could feed a small family with for three days, you know?”

You were hungry.

There was more hunger than a few chocolate bars and some bubblegum could satisfy. Maybe it was also just the fantasy of being free and sitting in a fast food joint and stuffing your face that intensified that wish.

You wanted out of there and the need to get up and run was getting stronger and stronger with every passing minute. But at the same time, you wanted to stay and keep talking with him.

He gave you a kind of attention you’ve been desperately waiting and searching for and a part of you felt guilty that maybe he was forced to do so since he had nowhere else to go right now. But it felt so natural and sincere whenever he did that you wished it would never end.

When you didn’t get a response from him you turned your head, only to see him staring back at you. He immediately looked away.

“Y-yeah, me too.” He quickly said and you asked yourself what that look just now was supposed to mean.

You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light in the room.

Where were you?

Oh right, you were still trapped.

And you had fallen asleep.

Fuck.

You looked over at Tim, who was sitting up again.

You blushed deeply in embarrassment before you sat up too.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Tim looked at you again with a smile.

“Yeah … Uhm… How long was I gone?” you asked, hesitantly and you watched him look at his phone.

“About an hour.”

Your heart dropped.

“Oh. Thanks.” You couldn’t even believe you had the nerve to fall asleep in a situation like this but you were apparently tired enough to do so.

“What did I miss?” you asked and you definitely noticed how he hesitated and avoided your eyes.

“Your friend called.” He said. “And …. She sounded angry.”

Your heart dropped.

“You picked up??” you asked in disbelieve. What did she say to him?? Oh Dear Lord, please let her have shut her big mouth just once for this time, PLEASE.

“I- I really didn’t mean to pick up! But she called seven times and your phone wasn’t muted and when I wanted to mute it I saw her text of how worried she was and…” he trailed off and it was almost a little bit comforting to see him talk in a frenzy instead of you.

“What did she say?” you asked, having your mental fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

“Nothing much. She kept yelling and when I finally got a word in she hung up.” he said and you never felt more relieved than before.

“Are you shitting me? That’s what he did??” you couldn’t contain yourself in laughter as you heard the story he had just told you. It made you feel a dozen times better about the ones you had told him before.

“Yeah. Bruce banned spoons after that. Except for the kitchen and dining room, of course.”

You laughed at that, even letting out a snort as you couldn’t contain it.

“No wonder he always looks so tired in all the pictures.” You chuckled.

“Besides that, I still can’t believe you have a dining room. One that you actually use.” You added.

Tim looked away and you had learned in the short time here with him that it meant he wasn’t quite comfortable with that topic.

“Yeah, comes with the job I guess?”

“How often do you guys just … you know, play hide and seek? Or Tag? Do you ever feel tempted?”

Tim chuckled.

“We did, once. We aren’t allowed to do that anymore. We lost Damian for two days and didn’t tell Bruce...” he trailed off.

You laughed again and you didn’t notice how much he seemed to enjoy that sound.

“I don't even want to know how you guys did that.” You said, grinning at the hilarity of it all.

“I’m not even sure I’m allowed to tell you, anyway.” He replied. You glanced over at him, opening your mouth to say something when you both heard a voice from outside.

You both looked at the door from where the sound came.

It was the rescue workers. And suddenly a timer started to run down in your head that you didn’t know you would start to detest.

It was only a matter of time till this would end.

The men outside started the whole ‘Are you safe’ spiel and you heard Tim answer some of the questions. The only thing you could focus on was what the man had said.

“You’ll be out in 15 to 20 minutes.”

15 to 20 minutes.

That was by far not enough time.

Was it selfish of you to want to sit here with him and keep talking? Listening to his past shenanigans and the way he laughed when you told him yours? The way his brows creased when he was thinking or the completely surprised expression of his when you delivered a good comeback to his sassy remarks?

You probably shouldn’t feel this way anyways.

Wasn’t he technically your boss?

Even though he had told you that he really didn’t like it when you talk to him like he was this big shot, it still didn't change the fact that he was.

Or maybe it was your way of pushing him away? Your way of justifying why he would never be interested in you in this way.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tim looked down at you and you honestly didn't know how to answer that. You sat up, hearing the workers trying to open the doors as you glanced at the jacket your head was lying on a second ago.

“This is going to sound stupid…” you said, already throwing the idea out of the window until you saw his face. It was concerned, almost worried and a little bit curious.

“Try me.” He said, encouragingly.

“I’m .. gonna miss this.” You said eyes averted to your shoes. The courage he had given you was gone and you wished you could take all that back.

“Being locked in?” he asked and you looked up at him, ready to tell him how stupid that question just was when you saw his smile. He understood.

You two shared a look.

“You know..” he started after a moment. “There is this place, a few blocks from here, that has really good burgers… At least I heard so.”

You chuckled.

“Oh, really? Even cheeseburgers?”

“Yupp. The big ones.”

“Sounds tempting.”

A heartbeat passed.

“Would you want to go with me?”

You thought about it.

“Like as newly formed friends or as a date?”

“Definitely a date.” he paused. “O-only if you want to.”

You could barely contain your smile as you heard the door crack open.

“I would love to.”

#my writing #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake fluff #fluff #batboy x reader #batboys #batboy imagine #dc imagine #red robin imagine #red robin x reader

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heretic-altias · 7 years

Text

So I was writing this based on a random conversation about how dark core could find where we stable our horses really easily and how we’d have to rescue our soul steeds on Jorvik ponies. It turned into this thing that was way longer than I expected, so read if you’d like but I don’t write much so it’s probably not that great XD. (I know for a fact I tend to forget to describe what people look like). It’s the longest thing I’ve written in a really long time, so I felt I should post it.

It’s never good when I have nightmares. The Druids think it’s my connection to the moon circle, but whatever it is they always seem to warn me. So when I shot up from sleep in a cold sweat, I knew I couldn’t sit around. My heart was hammering as I flipped on the light. Something felt wrong, like I was missing something. I grabbed a flashlight and made my way outside. The last time I’d woken up like that, a horse was sick. Yet this felt so much worse. I couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling as I walked towards the stables, the pouring rain didn’t help. I could barely see through the downpour, but I’d walked this short path so many times it was ingrained into my mind. Out of nowhere, a shape slammed into me knocking me down. A black horse stood there, breathing heavily. It had clearly tried to stop when it saw me, but the ground was slippery. I recognized the horse after a moment. “Flylion? What’s wrong!?” I asked, the panic I’d felt waking up only growing. My horses were never out at night. Especially not in a downpour. “Jacky? Thank Aideen you’re here!” Flylion replied, sounding relieved. “What’s going on?” I shouted. The wind had started to pick up, making it harder to hear. “S-somebody broke in. We tried to chase them out, but they had people with them. I tried to kick them, but they got my side with something sharp I think” the horse stammered. I could tell he was still scared. I moved around to the side he had gestured at when mentioning an injury. I kept one arm up blocking the wind and rain, while with the other I ran my hand over Flylion’s side. I found something solid sticking out. My hand came away wet with something that I didn’t need light to tell me was blood. “It’s ok, I-I gotta call Lisa” I mumbled. I was getting lightheaded. “Jacky?” Flylion asked concerned. “Jacky!” the horse then screamed when I collapsed. I didn’t know why I’d fallen over, but suddenly my energy was gone. The last thing I heard before blacking out was Midnight, my soul steed, shouting in my head.

I woke up with a start again. My mind immediately went to the injured horse I’d fainted in front of. “Flylion!” I shouted, jumping out of bed. “He’s fine” a female voice assured me “someone got him with a knife, but it was a small one and I healed it” I turned to see Lisa standing there. “Thank you” I told her, before rushing out towards the stables. It was as I walked down the path that same weird exhaustion washed over me again, this time though not nearly as powerful. Confused, I tried to ask Midnight about it. We’d spent a long time learning how to communicate long distance with our bond as well as right near each other. I was stronger than the soul riders, so I found I could speak close range with any horse as long as we generally trusted each other. Midnight, I could speak to from anywhere. So it was alarming when I felt nothing trying to reach him. I ended up running to the stables, suddenly panicked. I burst through the doors to find the place a mess. Ruby was standing near the front, her ears aggressively pinned back. She would’ve looked almost funny if my mood wasn’t all over, she reminded me of a guard dog. She softened when she saw me though. “Glad you’re ok” she said, walking over to me. “What on earth happened? Why can’t I reach Midnight?” I asked her. “Flylion said he got as far as telling you people broke in. For whatever reason they targeted Midnight specifically. We managed to catch them off guard, all rushing to his aid but there were too many. Flylion ended up with that knife in his side, and Scarlett broke her leg. Lisa healed them both, thank Aideen we have her. Scarlett’s injury would’ve been fatal otherwise” Ruby explained. “So they just took Midnight then? Any idea who they were?” I asked her. “One of them seemed familiar to me. While I’m no dog, I can recognize scents somewhat. This one was really distinct. I’ve only ever encountered it one other time. Remember when you first moved to Jorvik? That girl came and stole some important papers? It reminded me of her that day.” Ruby told me. “Sabine, oh no” I mumbled. If Sabine has broken in, that meant that Dark Core had my horse. “Were any of the horses left completely uninjured?” I asked. “Hmm, most of them were injured somehow, I don’t think Cinnamon was he was in the back and too small to get involved. Pretty sure he was also too terrified” she recalled. “Thanks Ruby” I called, grabbing Cinnamon’s bridle. Even with Lisa’s healing, it was always good to let the horses take time to heal in case it didn’t heal completely for some reason. So I went off to find Cinnamon.

Cinnamon was by no means, a horse to bring to a fight. Or a race. Or a rescue. He was a little black and white Appaloosa colored Jorvik Pony. He was skittish, and would not jump no matter how much I asked. Yet he was my only option. “Cmon Cinnamon” I called walking up to him. He turned to look at me. “Where are going?” he asked. “To find Midnight” I replied. “Wait, what!?” he yelled back, trying to shy away from the bridle. I won though, and he reluctantly let me mount. I hadn’t grabbed a saddle, and the bridle I’d taken in my rush was a red and white Christmas one. Cinnamon refused to go any faster than a trot. “Let’s go” I told him desperately. “Maybe we should think about this before we-” he started nervously, but I cut him off. “Do you want Midnight to freaking die? Because we can freaking prevent it if you would just move!” I yelled at him, nudging his sides on the last word for emphasis. I think my desperation must’ve started to get to him, as he reluctantly went into a canter then into a gallop. Looking back, I really was stupid. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I didn’t plan ahead. I didn’t think logically at all. Usually I’m always using my head. Yet I was overwhelmed by the fear of losing Midnight. It had taken over my thoughts, and the fact that I hit nothing trying to reach out to him just made me feel alone, which spurred the fear forward even more. Cinnamon suddenly stopped when we first went to cross the bridge into Cape West. “Oh Aideen, why are we stopping?” I asked, my voice rising in a crescendo. “I-I can’t swim” he stuttered, looking at the water. “We aren’t swimming, go!” I yelled. Looking back, I felt really bad being so harsh on him. The poor pony was trembling as we made our way through town, and over to the boat man. He was trembling even more on the boat. Yet I was so wrapped up in my own fear I still didn’t notice. On the oil rig, I rode right through. There were no guards. My mind was so out of it though I didn’t even register how off this was. I should’ve realized what was happening. Yet instead I trotted my way forward. Finally I saw Midnight, tied up by the portal. They’d used magical chains of some kind to hold him in place, which explained why he hadn’t been able to reach me. Seeing him finally pushed that fear out of my mind. He was alive. I could finally think clearly again. It was only then I realized how bad this situation was. It’s a trap I thought, my heart sinking. Just as the thought entered my mind, a bunch of goons came out, blocking every path. They terrified Cinnamon, who threw me off. “By Aideen, Cinnamon I realize this is bad, but really?” I asked him. I realized then how harsh I’d been to him this whole time. “Never mind, I’m sorry” I told him. He didn’t respond, and I quickly saw what his attention was on. “Never thought I’d see you of all people thrown off a horse” a voice chuckled. I whirled around to see a girl standing there, with black spiky hair and red eyes. “Aren’t you Lea’s girlfriend?” I asked confused. I’d seen this girl out with Lea before, Lea introduced me to her to me. “Correct. I suppose an introduction isn’t needed then” she confirmed. That meant this was the girl Lea was dating, Dunya I believe her name was. “Does Lea know you’re with this crowd?” I asked, immediately thinking of my friend’s safety. “She does. I chose to do this on a day she’s not here. Alessa can often convince me out of things, and that’s something that can’t happen here” Dunya replied. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew Dark Core wanted me dead. I decided to keep stalling in hopes of finding a way out of this. “How’d you find my horse then?” I asked her. “That was the easy part. All we had to do was ask about you. Humans are all too willing to share. Now enough stalling, I can see you trying to spare your own life” she explained. She’d figured out my diversion, clearly. The goons stepped forward as if to do something but she stopped them. “No, I must destroy Aideen myself” Dunya said, ordering them to back off. “Aideen?” I couldn’t help but say out loud. That’s not something someone would say as a mistake. “Oh, so the Druids didn’t tell you then. Then again why would they, those idiots can’t do anything. Well it doesn’t matter now, you’re going to die any-” she explained, but was suddenly slammed into from behind. Cinnamon stood there looking shocked with himself. I knew we had to act. “Cinnamon, let’s go!” I shouted, sprinting to Midnight. “I’ve got you now, we’ll be ok” I whispered to the bay before blasting off the chains with a soul strike. The moment the chains were gone we could speak again. “I’d say let’s fly, but Cinnamon can’t” Midnight immediately stated. “The boat is here, we can probably get there” I told him quickly. We took off galloping through the base, Cinnamon at our heels. Dunya was yelling somewhere behind us, and she sounded really angry. Suddenly, fireballs started landing around us. A glance back revealed Dunya was on her own horse, chasing after us. Just as she started to catch up, a boat horn went off incredibly close. I saw the Soul Riders on their stolen barge, below us. If we jumped now, we’d land on it. “Cinnamon jump!” I yelled, as Midnight leapt over the edge with me. Cinnamon faltered for only a moment before the fireballs brought him to his senses. He landed on the barge with us, stumbling a little. “Will she follow us?” I asked looking back. “She shouldn’t, she’s not powerful enough to reveal herself to the mainland yet” Linda replied. When we got back, I was immediately dragged to Elizabeth and asked to tell my story. I did so, and only after I remembered what she’d called me. “Oh yeah, and for some reason she called me Aideen? She thought it was funny when I didn’t know why I’m pretty sure also. Any idea why? Didn’t seem like it was an accident” I added. Elizabeth’s face physically paled. “Um I think you should go home and rest. You’ve had a long day” she said, in an almost monotone voice. “Are you hiding something from me?” I asked. “Why would we do that?” she asked, but her tone was off. I exploded. “My horse was freaking stolen, two of my other ones almost died in that event! My poor pony, myself and Midnight all were nearly killed back there! If they come back after me somebody could actually die! I cannot be left in the dark, I need to know what the heck makes me such a huge target! Fripp is still out of it, so I can’t ask him but I have a feeling he’d be the same way as you! You all act like I’m so important, Dunya even found it amusing I didn’t understand! Somebody just freaking answer me already! What on earth is going on!?” I screamed. The soul riders looked at Elizabeth, seeming just as confused as me. That made me realize something else. “You haven’t even told them yet, wow. She might’ve tried to kill me, but maybe Dunya was right to call you useless idiots” I said in a quiet, cold tone. The room was silent. I turned and walked out. Midnight waited for me outside. He didn’t need to be told what happened, he’d heard it all. “Jacky-” I heard someone say but I was already on my horse. I pushed him into a gallop, letting him go wherever he liked. Once we were away from town, he let his wings appear and flew into the air. I didn’t see where we were going, my face was buried in his mane. When I felt him land I looked up. He’d brought us up to my favorite mountain cliff. I dismounted and sat next to him, my feet hanging off the edge. “What are they hiding from us?” I asked my horse. “I honestly don’t know. Did Dunya genuinely think you’re the goddess?” Midnight asked. “She seemed to” I replied. “It might actually make sense. We have all four soul rider abilities” he suggested. “How would I be Aideen though? I was born into a regular family, not even on this island” I asked. “It is confusing. But here’s something interesting. The dark energy Dunya gave off, was the exact opposite of your own energy.” Midnight mentioned. I sat up straighter and looked at him. “You can sense that?” I asked. “I’m both a horse and a magic user. I sense a lot more than people realize” he explained. “So you can sense the energy my magic gives off? Then I have a way we can tell” I said, grabbing my bag and digging into it. I pulled out my fragment of Aideen’s light. “You didn’t really get a good look at this last time, we were using it” I told him. He took a long look at it, and tapped it lightly with his nose. “This light fragment… Gives off the same exact magical energy your own power does” he slowly said. “So you’re saying I’m somehow Aideen?” I asked. “Most likely. All the evidence is there, and we don’t have anything to point anywhere else” he confirmed. “So they knew then. You heard that whole thing. They must’ve known. Why didn’t they tell us?!” I yelled out into the sky. “They shouldn’t have hidden that, it could’ve saved everyone a lot of pain to know” Midnight said, his voice a deadly calm. He usually used that tone when he was angry but didn’t want it to be obvious. I could read him like a book at this point though. “So now Aideen can’t trust the Druids. This is interesting” a voice said behind us. I leapt up to face the other way, yanking out my pocket knife. I usually carried one, but I’d forgotten it in my trance when heading to Dark Core. Standing behind us, was Dunya. “No need, this spot is too public. Someone would see if I killed you here. That puny thing probably wouldn’t help you anyway” Dunya said, gesturing at my knife. “What do you want” I growled at her, keeping the knife pointed her way. “To see if you figured it out. It’s quite amusing Aideen didn’t even know herself” Dunya claimed. “You know, you don’t have to stay with them. Everything could move forward without an issue, and your life could be spared if you’d give your loyalty to me” Dunya then offered. I remembered what Midnight said then, about her energy being the opposite of mine. “If I’m Aideen… Then wouldn’t that make you Garnok?” I asked. “Correct” she replied. “Then why on earth, would I want to work with you? I might be annoyed at the Druids but that doesn’t mean I want the entire island destroyed!” I retorted. “Suit yourself then Aideen. Would’ve made things far easier if you’d accepted, it was worth trying” she said. Then her voice quieter she spoke to herself “I know I told Lea I wouldn’t up here… but it’s too good a chance” Before I could react, she grabbed the knife out of my hand, and shoved me off the ledge. Midnight leapt after me, and managed to grab my shirt in his mouth, but not before my head hit a rock. I didn’t faint, but I did feel really off. He lowered me down on to a rocky ledge. “You ok?” Midnight asked. “Somewhat. I think Lisa should look at my head” I mumbled back. “Let’s go before she comes back” he said, so I got on his back. “I thought she claimed it was too public there” I mumbled once again. “I think that was a cover up for her telling her girlfriend she wouldn’t attack up there” Midnight replied. “So Garnok does have feelings then” I chuckled “I should call Lea tomorrow, see how much of this she actually knows about” “Apparently so” Midnight agreed, flying back towards home “and definitely call her”. We flew the rest of the way in silence. I had a lot to think about.

#star stable #sso #I feel like this could have a sequel if I wanted it to #depends if I ever get in the mood to continue

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ingridgovaninsights · 7 years

Text

The Elliott Chapters- Part 4

With Victoria gone, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. And I didn’t mean that in an emotional way- I’d been distancing myself for a long time now. Not in a financial way, either- my job alone made more than enough to pay for the apartment (and I set it up in that way on purpose). What I meant was I had no idea what to physically do. I almost felt like I had to get up and do something, like that would be the normal thing to do after something so supposedly tragic happened. Some people might have gotten up to watch her out the window, make sure she safely got into a car or met up with a trusted friend; some might feel angry after the fact and scream into a pillow.

I didn’t feel like doing any of these things, but I think it was almost expected. Well, was it expected if no one was around to expect it? If the tree falls in the forest…

Instead of acting in an emotionally charged way, I simply started to make myself a late breakfast. Well, it was late for me. Some fried eggs and bacon, maybe a slice of toast. I connected my phone to my BlueTooth speakers, and put on “Cold Fire” by Rush. Out of character for me, I played it as loud as it would go:

It was long after midnight

When we got to unconditional love

She said, “sure my heart is boundless

But don’t push my limits too far”

I said, “if love was so transcendent

I don’t understand these boundaries”

She said, “just don’t disappoint me

You know how complex women are”

The song resonated with me. I really related to the lyrics, and no, I didn’t think women were “complex” in an offensive way… quite the opposite. I found them complex in an interesting way- some of them more than others. And suddenly there I was, throwing all women into one single category. At least it wasn’t an offensive category. People got too easily offended, which was another thing I didn’t understand.

My mother always used to say to me, “don’t file all women into one category, Elliott. It’s disrespectful. We are all individuals with our own traits and personalities. You can’t make such sweeping statements.”

Why do stereotypes exist, then? I tried to argue this with her, for instance by saying women tend to be more sensitive than men, and my mother lost it on me- maybe in a way that means I won the argument?

Charlotte never got angry or offended by me. Not really, anyways. Rather, she engaged in the discussion, and she knew I was simply trying to debate, just in my own crooked way… a way that some people got triggered by.

Depending on her mood, Victoria would either entertain my ideas or she would fight them relentlessly. When she entertained them, she listened thoroughly and she had lots of great ideas of her own, lots to consider. When she fought me on it, she was a different person- she was angry and bitter. The same person that agreed with what I was saying also firmly disagreed… it was a confusing thing to grasp.

Halfway through “Cold Fire”, I realized today was the day I would normally have my writing class. Now, this was something I was being “forced” to go to; it was never my idea… but a part of me wanted to go this week. I thought about Jeff, my instructor, and how maybe he would want to grab a beer again afterwards. That could be nice.

I really didn’t want to see Charlotte- rather, it wasn’t a good idea. Seeing her would likely trigger some unresolved feelings… and I was already trying to deal with a new, big change in my life- Victoria leaving. I couldn’t add more confusion to the mix.

But I did have the whole day to kill before the class… I could simply see what Charlotte was up to… No, that wouldn’t end well.

It was strange- I was the person to always follow reason before my emotions. But sometimes with Charlotte I found myself struggling…

***

I decided to do what I did best- I went for an extremely long car ride. I had all the windows down, going well over the speed limit. I was on the highway. I passed people with ease, many giving me shocked looks or flipping me the bird.

I remember getting my license as soon as I was able to at age sixteen, and though I was only twenty-one now, I had probably driven more kilometers than most people at the end of their twenties. I might even have more kilometers than some in their thirties… and I wasn’t exaggerating, either. Driving was an escape for me.

But it began as a necessity- leading up to my sixteenth birthday, my parents constantly asked me about it; in fact, they more so expected it. My mother couldn’t drive anymore, and with my father working so often, she couldn’t go out anywhere, or even get to her appointments. I knew I had to help her out, even though I’d helped out far more than the average child ever would.

When I finished writing the test and received my paper claiming I had passed, my father gave me a simple pat on the back. It was a “congratulations, son”, but in a way where he wouldn’t have to utter those words. I always wondered why that scared him so much.

Thinking about this, I stepped on the gas a little harder than I should’ve. I’ve always been hungry for speed, which perhaps had something to do with the urge to run away from everything that my life was.

“You drive like you had to be there yesterday,” my mother would say, gripping onto the handle that the passenger side provided.

A couple of people honked at me, threw their arms up as if to say, the hell, man? But I didn’t care. Sometimes it was quite freeing not to care so much. If Victoria were in the car with me, depending on her mood she’d either scream at me to let her out, or she would be screaming in joy out the window, blasting some trashy rap song and flipping her hair around madly.

If Charlotte were in the car, well… come to think of it, I might not drive that fast if she were sitting with me. She would probably advise against it, giving me some statistics on speeding and car crashes within the past couple of years, and then kind of shrug and say, “but it’s your choice, really”.

I really liked that about Charlotte- everything was a choice; nothing was absolute. I thought about how much fun Charlotte and I used to have, racing across town blasting a song maybe by Rush or the Tragically Hip… no particular destination in mind. And there was never any pressure to pick a destination… she simply enjoyed coming along for the ride.

Okay, Elliott, I told myself, you’re idealizing her again. You’re not being realistic. She is not the be-all and end-all…

Individuals with Asperger's Syndrome most certainly experience emotions- we just might experience them differently, or not know how to express them. It’s a ridiculous notion to think we are void of feeling anything- we’re not robots for Christ’s sake. Sure, a lot of scenarios I can reason my way out of and look at objectively; perhaps I was better at this than a lot of people. But with Charlotte, I was absolutely weak.

As my car lost control from the speed and started to spin off of the road, I swear I could see Charlotte shaking her head at me…

“You’re one of the smartest people I know, but sometimes you can be so fucking stupid.”

***

I woke up in a hospital bed.

Surrounded by white on everything, my eyes felt like they were burning. I didn’t notice the pain until I tried to roll over- it was an excruciating pain, throughout my entire body… and I had a fairly high pain tolerance.

My vision was a little foggy; perhaps I was drugged up on painkillers. Most likely. There, at the foot of the bed, was Charlotte, watching me with a kind of horror in her eyes. It had been a long time since I’d seen her. She looked like she was doing better; her eyes looked brighter and she looked like she’d been brushing her hair. Her wavy brown hair was getting quite long- it went all the way down to her hips. What did she do with all of that hair?

I couldn’t find the strength to actually say anything, so I waited for her to speak first. And sure enough, she did- I bet she had a lot to say; I knew her well enough to know that. Surely she wanted to lecture me about how I was driving recklessly, or say “I told you so”... not in a malicious way; rather, she would say it lovingly…

“You look kind of like you either don’t want to talk or you physically can’t,” she said, reading my mind, “so I’ll go ahead. Elliott, I really wish I could ask what’s going on and I wish for once you would tell me. I feel like nowadays we’re only really making small talk, and I miss when we could be honest with each other. And yes, I know you had an accident, that’s not what I mean when I ask what’s happened.”

I coughed, and my chest felt like it was going to burst. Okay, maybe I would refrain from coughing. Christ, were the painkillers even working? I didn’t want to know what it would feel like without them…

The pain was so great I had trouble even focusing on what Charlotte was saying to me. I wanted to talk with her, not have her talk to me… like we were having coffee again…

“Do you want me to call Victoria for you?” she asked, holding up her cell phone. “Just shake or nod your head, okay? You don’t have to speak if you don’t wanna.”

Slowly, I shook my head. I couldn’t handle her right now. Her reaction would be explosive- she would come storming in, not asking but demanding what was going on… she would accuse me of attention seeking behaviour, and that I was just trying to get her to feel bad for me. I knew her reaction so well, as if she had already come in and said it.

But I really didn’t need people who weren’t going to be there for me. It was a difficult decision to make, but it was necessary. Victoria was going to do more damage than anything. Charlotte didn’t push or pry. She just nodded.

“Is your family coming in?”

I shrugged. Who knows if they’d decide to show? That’s how you really know who cares about you- who decides to show up when you’re strapped to a hospital bed.

“Okay. Well, I’m here, okay? I won’t go anywhere until you tell me to get lost.”

I smirked at that. She stepped closer, and then took a seat beside me on the bed. We stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time, as if I were telling her the whole story with my eyes. Charlotte knew there was more to it than a few cracked ribs and perhaps a concussion. I mean, I’d been in car accidents before- no big deal really- but the timing was too suspicious. My life had been a disaster as of late.

Our silent storytelling time was interrupted as an unexpected guest appeared in the doorway- Jeff, my writing class instructor. He was dressed down today- perhaps he only dressed fancy for his classes- he wore a red tank top with some faded blue jeans and flip flops. He wore wide-rimmed black glasses, and he was unshaven, sporting a scruffy beard. His brown eyes were full of pure concern.

“Elliott,” he said, as if out of breath, “Elliott, Elliott, Elliott.”

He approached us and held out his hands, giving a sad sort of smile. He was the type of person that gained joy from bringing others joy. Wasn’t my style, but I could admire and appreciate it. It certainly worked on most people- I even found myself cracking a smile. He was a good guy.

It was really refreshing that my two guests didn’t bombard me with questions or accusations, they were simply there, ready to listen if need be, but mostly just there to be a source of support and comfort. Because all I really wanted to do was close my eyes…

I guess I had been drifting off, because I was jolted awake by Charlotte’s soft hand brushing against mine. I was quite sensitive to touch. Normally anything touching me in that way- delicately, almost with uncertainty- would make me recoil, but Charlotte’s touch was a welcome one. I watched her with sleepy eyes. She smiled.

All the while, Jeff stood over us, chuckling quietly to himself. He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture.

“Would you look at you guys,” he said.

***

My family never ended up visiting me, which was no surprise really, but still a bit disappointing. I was used to it now, though. My brothers were all living out of town now, so surely it would be difficult for them to get here…

There I was, making excuses. Their little brother got into a car accident and they couldn’t find a way to come see me? Okay, it was a little fucked up. But you really do get used to what you were raised with- it’s all you know.

They released me from the hospital a couple of days later, which was generous and I didn’t think I needed to stay, but they insisted. The doctors said considering the accident I had I was in fairly good shape- my car, on the other hand, was pretty much destroyed. Perhaps I could use some of it for parts…

I wasn’t allowed to drive until I stopped with the painkillers and I started feeling better, so Charlotte picked me up from the hospital. One of the nurses pushed me outside in a wheelchair, and I was starting to get annoyed. I didn’t need a fucking wheelchair. Crutches would do, but I’d probably be fine even without those.

My mom always said I try too hard to “act tough”, but I really just have a high pain tolerance so not much will bother me. When I tried biking as a kid- God, I really hate biking, I look like such an idiot- I wiped out because, well, bikes are awkward. I was probably eight or nine. The other kids were shocked I wasn’t crying or screaming. I stood up, brushed off my pants, and said “what?”

When I went inside that evening with a skinned knee and blood appearing through my shirt, my mom looked at me, shocked, from her bed.

“Elliott,” she had said, “you’re bleeding, honey!”

My dad had just walked in the room, he’d just gotten home from work. He yawned, pulled off his socks and said, “oh, he’ll survive.”

“No, no,” my mother said, “come here, honey.”

I rolled my eyes and went over to my mother, who inspected my wounds. She was touching me lightly, and I just wanted to recoil… I jumped and stepped back.

“Mom!” I practically screamed, giving her a look as if to say you should know better. I could almost still feel her fingers on my skin, like little pinpricks.

“I was just trying to help,” Mom whispered; and now looking back on it I realize she was upset and did have good intentions, but I was too blinded to see it.

I was brought back to reality by Charlotte calling out to me, and the nurse carefully lifting me from the chair. When I looked at Charlotte, I realized I had no idea what I was going to do. I probably couldn’t work- I mean, I was fine, but my manager would insist I take some time off for my injuries; Victoria was gone; now I would be left to my own devices. Though I used to enjoy being alone almost to a fault, I was starting forget how to do it.

Charlotte helped me into the passenger seat of her car- I remember when she was too afraid to learn how to drive- and then she ran over to her side and turned the keys. Charlotte was far more mature than she used to be. A few years ago, I would have said with certainty that I was the more mature one, despite being younger. But nowadays, maybe I am the one that needs to get myself in check. Charlotte was doing pretty well for herself, and truly deserved that happiness after going through such a struggle. Me, on the other hand- I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.

“So, how do you feel?” she asked me, keeping her eyes forward as she got us out of the parking lot.

I shrugged. “I can’t complain, really. I could have gotten killed, but I didn’t.”

“Well, I mean, how do you feel- are you sore still? Did you get a prescription or shall we swing by the pharmacy to get you something? Anything at all.”

Why was she always so nice? I wasn’t used to people being so nice, without there being some sort of catch. Charlotte didn’t get anything out of this- she was doing it out of the kindness of her heart. Similarly, I can recall many times where I picked her up in times of trouble and expected nothing in return. As my mom would say, it’s all about the give and take. You don’t just get to take, take, take and take until the person is completely depleted, just like you can’t expect to give all the time without the favor ever being returned. My mom always used to try and teach me that growing up, because it’s something I used to struggle with. I didn’t pick up on when people got upset or bored- for instance, when I was talking on and on about cars without asking them anything or listening to any of their stories.

My mom would say, “Elliott, you can get a good idea about what someone is thinking by looking at their facial expressions and their body language. For example, if the person keeps looking away and fidgeting, they might be getting bored, or perhaps they’re anxious.”

“How can I tell if a girl likes me?” I asked. “This girl in my class keeps staring at me and smiling, sometimes giggling as if something is funny. I don’t really get why she can’t just tell me if she likes me.”

“It’s not always that easy,” my mom had said. “Maybe she does like you, but she’s nervous. But a lot of the time, you can just tell by the way she is acting around you. I think you’ve already got the right idea- it sounds like she might like you.”

“So what do I do?” I asked her.

“Well, if you like her, you should tell her,” Mom said to me. “What have you got to lose? Just… don’t be too creepy about it.”

Suddenly, Charlotte was snapping me out of it yet again. She waved her hand infront of my face. I had to stop daydreaming like that, just drawing blanks out of nowhere- it likely freaked people out.

“Elliott? Do you wanna go to the pharmacy?”

“Right. The pharmacy. Maybe we could get some chocolate milk?”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “Chocolate milk… really, Elliott?”

It was an inside joke, but I was pretty serious that I actually did want chocolate milk. Hell, I deserved it after all I went through. Anyways, when I first got my license I was really excited about it, because it meant I wouldn’t have to rely on anybody else to get me anywhere, which was something I always felt bad about. I also always had an avid interest in cars and driving. The very same day I got my license, I picked up Charlotte and we went for a drive.

Charlotte had just finished a shift at work, so she was quite tired. Her hair was a mess, but she still looked beautiful. She dragged herself into my car and plopped down into the seat, sighing.

“Why do you always do a big sigh like that after work?” I had asked her, slightly annoyed. “Everyone has to work. Why are you so dramatic about it?”

“I’m on my feet all day, okay?” she snapped. She put her feet up on the dashboard- something she did that I really didn’t like, but I allowed because she was special, and her feet hurt.

“Okay,” I said, deciding I wouldn’t ever quite understand. “Where do you want to go?”

“It would really make me happy if we could get some good chocolate milk,” she said.

I was surprised by her answer. “What is considered ‘good chocolate milk’?”

“You know the kind they sell at the pizza place in the mall food court? That kind. Except the mall isn’t open at this hour. So… I’m not really sure where to get it.”

“Okay, well let’s try a couple grocery stores, then.”

We went to the closest grocery stores, and they didn’t have the brand Charlotte considered to be the “best”. We definitely found chocolate milk, but it wasn’t the same apparently. Charlotte insisted we just buy the one we found, but something told me we had to keep looking.

Perhaps I was just eager to drive around in my new car, and maybe it was simply because I had no other plans that night, but the look of gratitude in Charlotte’s eyes made me want to do it especially for her. She was that grateful for a carton of chocolate milk. That grateful for me.

After nearly two hours of hunting down just the right brand, we finally found it at a sketchy gas station on the edge of town. It was especially difficult to find since everything was closed early on Sundays. It was a real challenge, for sure. But the level of satisfaction she expressed to me made the whole thing worth it. I remember she was grinning from ear to ear, and her eyes lit up when she looked at me. She was truly grateful. And then she shocked me when she reached out and fell into my arms for the first hug I’d received in years.

My parents never hugged me. My siblings never hugged me. They knew how much I didn’t like to be hugged, but Charlotte didn’t know that.

I’m kind of glad she didn’t.

#creative writing #writing blog #mental health #mental health blog #the charlotte chapters #anxiety #depression #short story #novella #writing #writers of tumblr #aspiring author

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omegaqueencas · 7 years

Text

Wincestmas Day 8

Excerpts from the Journal of Robert Singer

April 5th 1986 –

Got a call today from John Winchester, he needed a favor. Should’ve told him no straight off. He shows up with two kids askin if I’d keep an eye on em while he hooks up with Elkins to do a hunt. Son of a bitch didn’t even wait for me to say yes or no, just dumps the kids and takes off. Cute kids, quiet though.

May 1st 1986 –

Found out just today, Sam’s birthday is tomorrow. What the hell kind of father leaves a kid on his birthday? Good thing Dean finally started talking, I was beginning to wonder about him. He’s awful quiet, like he’s thinking about things all the time, studying on the situation like he might have to run or fight.

Sam’s the complete opposite. That little boy could talk your ear off, then go in for the other one. And questions! Lord have mercy I can’t believe that child is only gonna be three tomorrow. He sounds like he’s ready to argue a case in front of the Supreme Court. He’d make a good lawyer, come to think of it.

At least I got both of them on a schedule with bedtimes and such. Finally got Dean to eat. That was a battle let me tell you. Every single meal he’d sit there, staring at his plate until he was sure Sam was finished. Then he’d eat about half of what I gave him. Only I didn’t know that since he was taking the leftover food, wrapping it up, then hiding it in their room. Took me a week to figure out what the ungodly smell in there was. Then I found the stash of half rotten food. Dean was so scared I was mad he almost made himself sick. What the hell happened to this child that he thinks I’m going to beat him for hiding food? And why does he think he has to hide food to start with?

June 14th 1986 –

Wonder of wonders John actually called to check on the boys today. Didn’t want to talk to them, just wanted to know if they were behaving. I gotta wonder how broken you have to be to only care that your children are obeying the rules. Not if they are happy or healthy or if they miss you. I understand he lost his wife. I lost mine. But I didn’t have kids to raise. These boys need their dad, not some drill Sargent.

Little Sam cried when he found out John called because he didn’t want to leave here. I asked him why and he told me he and Dean wanted me to be their daddy because I was nice to them. Almost broke my heart to hear that little voice tell me how John would beat Dean with a belt if Sam did something wrong.

I finally got Dean to trust me enough to talk to me. He told me he hid the food because lots of times they didn’t get enough to eat and later Sam would cry he was hungry. If Sam cried John would beat Dean with a belt because it was Dean’s job to take care of Sam, so if Sam was crying Dean must not be doing his job.

Dean would wait until Sam was done eating, make sure he said he’d had enough, then Dean would eat half his food saving the other half for later when Sam would say he was hungry. After hearing that I got to looking at the boys real close. Noticed Sam was chubby with healthy pink cheeks. Dean was a little too thin, not enough to notice right away, but if you looked careful you could see the dark circles under his eyes, the way his ribs showed a little more than most boys his age, the same for his arms and legs, a little thin.

I had to excuse myself to go check the oil on my truck after that. Good thing I had a clean handkerchief with me, ended up getting something in my eye.

June 3rd 1991

John dropped the boys off for the summer, at least he told them goodbye this time. Mighty nice of him considering they probably won’t see him again till Labor Day. After that he’ll have school to babysit them all day.

Signed Dean up for summer baseball and Sam for soccer. Sam’s team won the championship last year, so they are pretty excited to have him back.

I guess I’m kinda lucky the boys are as close as they are. They don’t seem to mind having to share a bed, makes it easier on me since I only have to clean out one room for the both of them. Watched them for a while today. Sam just lights up whenever he manages to make Dean smile. And he tries all the time. That kid can be so goofy I swear. I honestly believe that Dean would die for Sam. He looks at Sam sometimes like he’s the only person in the world. What they have shines off them. It’s like they’re more than brothers.

September 28th 1997

John and the boys got here late last night. John and I are leaving today to take on a big vamp nest in New Mexico. Sam and Dean are staying here to field phone calls and basically look after the place.

Sam was acting strange, well stranger than a normal 14 year old acts when he overhears his dad telling his older brother, he’s leaving the Impala with him so he has somewhere to take his dates instead of sneaking them into his room while he’s gone. That boy had a look on his face like his heart was breaking right in two.

Then as soon as John walked away, Dean went straight to Sam, put his arm around him, messed up his hair and told him not to worry, he wasn’t planning on going on any dates that week. It would just be the two of them, fishing, maybe some trips to the arcade, any geek boy movie Sam wanted to go see and whatever old moldy cowboy videos I had. Gotta admit that last one stung a bit. Old? Moldy? Chisolm Trail is a classic!

Anyway, Sam lit up like the Captain of the football team just asked him to prom. Then I heard Dean call him “baby boy” and it clicked. Sam’s in love with Dean. And I’m pretty sure Dean feels the same way.

I see the little touches, the smiles. I see how they look at each other when the other isn’t looking. Gotta be honest, I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. They fell in love. Both of em being guys is one thing. People have gotten a lot more tolerant of that lately. But them being brothers, yeah that’s gonna be an issue. I don’t have a problem with it personally. As long as no one is forcing anyone to do anything against their will. From what I can see, Sam is so willing he can barely contain himself. Dean must be tryin to hold out till Sam’s a little older. Good for him. Hope they make it.

December 31st 1999

New Year’s Eve at the end of the millennium. John, Sam and Dean are here. Sam and Dean are together. John of course, doesn’t know.

I caught sight of ‘em out back arms around each other, full on kiss. Have to admit, brought tear to my eye the way they look at each other when they think no one can see them. I truly believe in my heart those two are true soul mates.

Told John I was takin him out to my favorite bar to get drunk and find a willin’ gal to kiss our ugly mugs at midnight. That should give those two a few hours to be together without having to pretend. I’d be hard pressed to describe the looks of excitement on their faces when they heard.

March 4th 2001

Sam’s acceptance package from Stanford came today. Full academic scholarship for four years. I’d be impressed but I know this is going to kill Dean. I think Sam know it too. I could hear it in his voice when I called to tell him.

August 12th 2001

Spent most of the day dealing with the mess Sam left when he got on that bus for Stanford today. Between John saying he’d better stay gone and Dean so hurt I’m not sure he’s gonna make it I’ve had to go to the liquor store twice today.

September 1st 2001

Couldn’t take it anymore. Sat Dean down and told him I knew. He tried to act like he didn’t know what I was talking about, but once I made him understand I was truly okay with it, he broke down.

I gave him $1000 and told him to go to Stanford and be with Sam. Don’t tell anyone you’re brothers. Get a job and a place to live then be together. Told him I’d deal with John. Figured I’d just say Dean needed to hunt on his own. Never saw anyone so happy to do a complete lifestyle 180 in his life.

October 31st 2005

Called Dean. Told him no one’s heard from his dad in a few weeks. He’d better get Sam and get here asap. He said Sam might not want to come but he’d do his best. I asked him how the two of them were doing, he said great. Since it was free, Sam was living in student housing, but the two of them spent almost every night together.

Sam had a girl room-mate, they were best friends. Dean hadn’t met her yet, but said if he didn’t know how much Sam loved him he might be jealous. Then he laughed. Never get tired of hearing those boys laugh. They really don’t do it enough.

November 15th 2011

Dean told me about Sam being tricked into getting married to some weird stalker girl while I was off hunting Vamps in Oregon. Said it shook him up so bad he’s gonna propose to Sam and wondered if I could get them fake I.D.s for Iowa, since it was legal for them to get married there, as long as they weren’t brothers.

Congratulated him and told him not to expect me to walk either of them down aisle. I lied. If they asked, I’d do it in heartbeat, the idjits.

written by @debivc78

#12daysofwincestmas #12dow #12dow 2016 #wincest #weecest #debivc78 #OINPSNPSNDSANADS THIS IS SO PERFECT #i always see bobby as the one who'd always understand them #AND FUCK THIS IS SO PERFECT #oindoçnaosjnd #submission

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