#The junk son has arrived | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pumpkinbxtch · 2 months

Text

.・゜✭・. the code for “i like you”

— leo valdez x daughter of athena!reader

Summary: Leo likes you so much that when he has the dream opportunity to get close to you, he expresses his feelings to you, in Morse code, accidentally.

Warnings: swear words?? yeah, but like three.

A/N: English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad.

A/N: I had so much fun doing this, i relived primary school when i used morse code to make love letters, ew. Btw enjoy.

Leo was terribly attracted to you and you, as expected, went completely oblivious about it. The boy had practically tried everything possible to get close to you; He tried to participate in the same practices as you, walking where you were or talking to those you were friends with, but he just couldn't get it.

The only thing that play in his favor was that they were both leaders of their respective cabins. So when you talked about the planes your cabin had to increase camp security during one of your regular meetings Leo immediately pulled out a favor and volunteered to help (although the guy had no choice anyway, literally his cabin was the only one that could make it)

Chiron didn't object and ended up emphasizing that the two of you would mainly have to work side by side, while he winked at the son of Hephaestus, and Leo wondered if his intentions were really that obvious. Whatever, he was happy.

— That's great, have fun, idiots — Clarisse said in a mocking tone. She patted you on the back and winked.

» Does everyone have eye problems today? « You wondered, but didn't give it much thought. You looked at Leo, and he smiled exaggeratedly at you.

You hadn't paid much attention to the guy, but of course you had him in located: he was a trouble-maker, talented, with very nice hair, in addition, - and gods forbid that anyone else should know - his jokes did seem funny to you as difference from the opinion of others. But you didn't give him many detours and smiled kindly, hiding your desire to giggle.

— See you in a bit, Valdez. I'll go get the plans. — and you left his sight again, leaving him alone in The Big House. Leo would have preferred to accompany you, but he believed that he had already spent his good luck bonus for the day, so he decided not to press. Chiron put a hand on his shoulder and sighed dreamily.

— The sweet and bitter pain of love — The centaur patted his shoulder a few more times and trotted into the house.

An hour later, Leo had tried to make bunker 9 as presentable as possible for your arrival. But the accumulated junk of several weeks was difficult to hide under a rug, so he just arranged it so that it would not get in the way and cleaned it the tables. In the name of Hephaestus, he was a nervous wreck.

By the time you crossed the door, he wanted to bury himself along with the scrap metal under his work table.

On the other hand, for you, it was impressive. Of course, you were not unfamiliar with the bunker, but looking closely at all of Leo's projects that he had in progress stimulated your brain in the same way that the largest candy store would do for third year old. You forced to keep your mouth closed and walked with the papers towards Leo, who was sitting on the other side of the huge blueprint table.

He looked apparently uncomfortable, and you did not blame him, you assumed that entering the workshop of a son of Hephaestus where his most precious creations are kept was the equivalent of grabbing Clarisse's favorite weapon to play badminton. You preferred to get to the point by spreading out the plans and go straight to the explanation of them.

Everything was fine, until after a while, Leo began to make anxious movements that did nothing but spread the feeling towards you. At first the knocking on the table while you were telling him the plans seemed meaningless to you, until you managed to distinguish a certain rhythm in them, then a hidden meaning. Your mind split in two, and you continued listening carefully while you continued explaining. How? ADHD.

Two knocks in a row, a silence, a tap and a long tap… Was that Morse code?

(.. / .-.. .. -.- /) I like…

You finally figured it out.

(.. / .-.. .. -.-/) I like…

He repeated. It was definitely Morse code.

But what did he like? Your plans?

That last thought made you falter in the conversation, and you stuttered, Leo placed his brown eyes on you attentively and touched the code again.

(.. / .-.. .. -.-/) I like (-.-- --- ..-) You

You blinked dumbfounded as you bumbled and tried to put your sentence together to return to the conversation about the security system without much success, Leo frowned softly probably wondering if you had gone crazy already. But that didn't matter because at the same moment his knuckles collided again against the wooden table making you lose total concentration.

(.. / .-.. .. -.- . / -.-- --- ..-) I like you

You were probably wondering if he was doing it on purpose or consciously, but the answer was no, Leo was a total idiot watching you explain plans and strategies. For him, it was easily like being in paradise, but his emotion tended to show itself involuntarily, and in this case, his knuckles began to encode messages that his brain spun while you continued babbling.

It was only when you stopped talking and gave him a big look of confusion that he stopped.

His blood ran cold. What had he done wrong?

—Leo? — you asked incredulously with narrowed eyes.

—Yes?— He mumbled nervously and then laughed. Leo cursed his anxious reflexes. — I'm listening, it's just a lot, and it's hard for me, you know what attention deficit is like.— He let out another laugh and his cheeks began to burn. He was just saying stupid things.

You shook your head and sat down.

—I know Morse code too, you know? We use it a lot in combat.

Leo's blood ran cold for the second time, and he thought he would burst into flames at the same time, inconsistent but possible.

— I don't think so.

And he gave himself a mental slap. Not only had he just told the girl he liked that Leo didn't think she knew Morse code, but to a daughter of Athena. ATHENA. Leo forced himself to deliver another slap.

But the question was now what the fuck had he said in Morse code? Then he heard you clinking the cap of a pen against the table.

(.. / .-.. .. -.- . / -.-- --- ..-) I like you

Shit.

—Wasn't that Morse code? You've been playing it since we were going through the forest plane.

The son of Hephaestus jumped from his chair and stiffened, beginning to babble.

— Me, no, it's just that sometimes I, no, my mom-

—Just tell me if it was true or not.

— YEAH! — Leo pressed his eyes and covered himself with his hands, seconds later a small flame caught fire above his head.

You didn't want to show your shock or how much your heart had raced, but you also got up from your chair and walked towards him. Leo was still in the same position, which almost made you laugh, but you preferred to direct your attention to the flame that was flickering in his hair. You raised your hand over him and tried to pat it out, trying not to get tangled in his curls. By the time you extinguished the flame, he was looking at you like you had just kicked his bronze dragon.

His eyes had widened in a way that you considered unnatural, this time you did let out the laugh. You cleared your throat and took a step back.

— An original way of expressing it, I have to admit — you said still with a playful look.

The boy blushed more, if that was possible.

— Sorry, I didn't want to bother you…

You frowned and shook your head.

— No, no, what I mean is… — You cleared your throat. Now you were nervous, your words would become more clumsy, so you picked up the pen cap again to knock it on the table:

.- ... -.- / -- . / ..-. --- .-. / .- / -.. .- - . (Ask me for a date)

Leo went over each tap and looked at you surprised.

You raised your hand asking for time and played one last word.

..-. --- --- .-.. (Fool)

And you smiled, satisfied that you had done it quickly, but even more so that the boy you had suggested going out with you had encoded the message in record time. How you liked smart boys!

Leo leaned towards you with a self-righteous smile, clearly feeling victorious. Yes, there was also the troublemaker, in total, he was a kind of mad genius.

—So, ma'am, would you go out with me?

— I'll see — You said as you picked up your plans. His smile faded and he began to stammer buts. — See you at dinner, Leo.

You smiled and made your way out of the bunker. Clearly, you would accept, but you would let Leo try a little harder.

#leo valdez #leo valdez x you #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson

252 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for stealing jewelry and a few other items from my hoarder aunt?

This was a few years ago now, I wanna say maybe 2018? My dad has two sisters, Z and K. K is married to a hoarder and has some hoarding tendencies herself so their house and particularly their garage is a mess. Not biohazard levels of mess but for sure just dusty, dirty, and stuffed with with ancient unusable garbage. K and her husband don’t have any kids, they’re both in their mid-70’s and both are in pretty poor health, so Z flew down from Florida and asked my father and I to come help clean. We agreed and came down for a day.

I have a weird relationship with my aunts. K took care of their mother until she died, and until she died my father would be at his sister’s beck and call. He would frequently abandon his own family to go help K and his mother. I don’t blame him for this, he wanted to help his sick mother, but I do blame K for using him as free labor. He built the house K is hoarding in, destroying his body in the process. Now that I’m an adult I don’t really speak to either aunt, like I had no contact with Z since Z’s second wedding in 2013. K is much closer location-wise but I don’t speak to her either because she’s just kind of off putting. The last time I spent time with her we went shopping and she kept telling me stories of her miscarriage and how annoying her husband is and pointing to someone and loudly asking “you think that’s a man or a woman?” Like I understand we are family but K and Z are as close to strangers as family can get to me. This doesn’t even cover my mom’s opinion of them and their treatment of her. Both Z and K have a history of manipulation, deception, and are both very vindictive and ignorant. She hates them both to the point of paranoia. My sister and I have a similarly low opinion of them both, but we both are more tolerable, myself especially.

So we arrive and we clean, Z and I working together to throw away a bunch of shit and my father worked on installing a new dishwasher. I stumble upon this gorgeous hanging lamp that looks like a large full moon. I text my mom about it and she flips. “That’s mine,” she says, “your father and I found that on the side of the road one night when we were first married.” So I load it into my dads car because it’s so pretty and it belongs to my parents. “Hey, you better ask if you can take that” Z says and I flat out tell her that it belongs to my mom. She shrugs and we continue to work. I find another really cool set of hanging lamps and a solid wooden lamp base carved to look like a gazelle that probably belonged to K’s husband’s parents and I took those too, with no input from Z.

These items weren’t lovingly packed and carefully stored away. They were sitting in plastic bins stuffed with dozens of boxes disintegrated plastic gloves and tools that were more rust than anything else. Towards the end of the day we discover some jewelry boxes and I take those inside to go through with K. A lot of it was junky costume jewelry but there’s some incredible pieces including a pair of 14k gold hoops that look like rams heads, a cool brass ring with an enameled signet with the Sagittarius archer, and a huge silver heart pendant. I carefully set aside the items that I would like to take home and K didn’t say anything, either because she didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Finally when we got home I showed my mom all of the cool stuff I found and she kind of scolded me, saying I should have asked to take this stuff and I brushed it off by joking that this was payment for my cleaning services. She was very happy that I rescued her moon lamp though.

I’m wearing that chunky silver heart pendant today and am thinking about it again. K doesn’t have any children so the only people who would ever inherit this junk would be either myself or Z’s kids, but Z’s daughter is no contact with Z and Z’s son lives on the other side of the country. We own the property that K lives on, pay for the taxes on it and pay for the maintenance on it all without charging K anything, so even when she and her husband die my family is going to have to clean it anyway and I can assure you I would be the only person who would actually want to sift through the garbage to find cool stuff. I feel like I saved this stuff from the landfill. I wear the jewelry I took, we have that really cool gazelle lamp displayed in our living room, and my sister said she was going to use the hanging lamps I brought home for when she has her own home. But of course I technically stole all of it and for sure will not be giving it back, even if she noticed it’s missing. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

216 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

Text

video stores, shopping malls, and ren faires part 2!

Pt. 1 | On AO3: video stores, shopping malls, and ren faires | song for this chapter

-----

There’s about an hour ‘till closing when Claudia Henderson drops Dustin off at Scoops Ahoy.

“Hi Ms. Henderson!” Steve greets the woman as she enters, Dustin just behind her with a backpack on his shoulder.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Claudia, Steven dear?” she chides.

“At least once more, Ms. Henderson.” he returns, turning on the charm that more and more frequently only worked on women hers and Ms. Byers age than on the ladies his age that he tried (and failed) to flirt with during his shifts.

Dustin grimaces, “Dude. Don’t flirt with my mom.” He scoots past his mom and heads towards the back of the store where he knows there’s a worn-in couch and wi-fi waiting for him.

Claudia shakes her head at her son, but continues on. “Thanks again for agreeing to watch him, Steven, he’s been super excited about it!”

“Oh, has he now?” Steve grins politely, but he knows he’s going to give Henderson so much shit about this.

“Moooom..” Dustin whines through the open window to the back of the shop.

She leans in closer to Steve like she’s telling him a secret. “Dusty said he was excited to spend time with his brother.”

Steve’s throat clenches tight at that.

“Oh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that!” she says with a wink. “He’s had dinner already, but I’m sure he’ll try to get some sort of junk food out of you.

“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, maybe early evening, and I’ll take you both out for dinner then, how’s that sound?”

He shoves past the emotion in his throat “Sounds great, Ms. Henderson, I’m looking forward to it.”

She gives him a smile, and calls towards the back of the shop, “Bye Dusty-buns! Behave!”

“Goodbye, mom!!” Dustin yells back, fully annoyed.

She and Steve share a covert snicker, and she heads back out the entrance with a final wave.

As expected, the last hour continues on without a customer showing up

Steve spends the entire time after Ms. Henderson leaves trying to get the persistent sticky film off the cracking linoleum of the tables; the register’s been counted since the last customer left about an hour before Dustin arrived, and he does NOT want to mop, so he just focuses on restocks and the tables.

Dustin comes out of the back at some point and plops himself onto a tabletop in the middle of the store, telling Steve all about his time at his nerdy summer camp (to which Steve sends back the appropriate ‘mhm’s and ‘Oh yeah?’s to his story while he cleans).

He zones back into the conversation when Dustin says “...hang on, I’ll go grab it from my bag and I can show it to you!”, jumping down off the table to go grab whatever it is that he was talking about.

As soon as he leaves, through the stark quiet of the empty mall, Steve hears the notes.

Thirteen notes. Whistled from somewhere in the building, that both strike him through the heart with overwhelming happiness and freeze him where he stands.

He has no clue as to why, but it’s as if his body recognizes the emotion that he’s supposed to feel upon hearing the tune, but his mind only registers it as vaguely familiar .

“What the fuck?”

“What?” Dustin says, coming back up to the table Steve’s been scrubbing with some sort of…thing in his hand.

“Nothing, forget it, what’s that now?” Steve nods toward the device and goes back in on the table in front of him.

He finishes with the last table just in time for closing, 9 pm, and for Dustin’s explanation about….okay, he still doesn’t know what it is that Dustin was showing him, to also come to a close.

“Okay Henderson, I’m just about done here, wanna help me with the cage?”

“Duh.”

“Alright, lets close this up and go out the bac–”

He hears the notes again.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

They’re both quiet, listening for the sound again, but nothing comes.

Dustin grabs the hook from next to the entrance to bring down the metal cage. “You hearing things Ste–”

There they are again.

“Ah ha! You heard it too! What the hell is that?”

“Uh, whistling? C'mon Steve, I know you’ve had a good couple hits to your noggin, but do you not remember what whistling is?" Dustin teases, but when Steve doesn’t say anything, “Steve? You still know what whistling is, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, obviously man,” Steve waves him off, “I'm just trying to find out where that’s coming from. I swear I know that tune from somewhere."

He mumbles the last as he steps out of the entrance to Scoops, walking slowly towards the center of the floor. He doesn’t get far, however, before he hears it again, coming from his right.

Whipping his head around, there are only two stores down that leg of the mall with the lights still on, Wyatt’s all the way down at the end, and the vintage Sam Goody record store two doors down from Scoops.

The whistle cuts through the quiet of the building and Steve follows the sound, the only thought that registers is that he’s glad whoever’s doing it seems to have the song stuck in their head so he can follow it better.

It’s definitely coming from much closer than Wyatt’s so he sneaks back to the wall and follows it to the record store.

“Damn it, I know that tune! Why can’t I place it??” He whispers, potentially to no one since he doesn’t know if Dustin followed him.

“I don’t recognize it at all.” Okay, Dustin followed.

The two sneak up to the mostly closed store and hide behind one of the columns that make up the doorway, its metal cage door still most of the way open, and listen.

They hear it getting closer to the entrance from inside the store before it gets drowned out by the rattle of the gate closing.

Whoever it is whistles the tune once more then goes quiet.

Steve sits and waits, still scrubbing through his memories to try and find the song. Soon enough though, Dustin whispers “C'mon man, let’s go.”

“No way dude, I gotta know who it was at least!”

“Well then look!”

Steve moves to peek around the column and scans over the aisles of vinyl…only to come up empty. They must’ve gone into the back.

He turns back and says as much to Dustin, “They must be about to head out, I didn’t see anyone in there.”

“You’ll figure it out another day then. Can we go?”

Steve sighs, but nods, a weird melancholy coming over him, knowing he’s not going to figure out what that song was.

He takes a single step back towards Scoops when the person starts singing; the lyrics match the earlier tune and their voice is low and raspy.

It legitimately makes Steve weak in the knees and sends him to the floor.

“What the hell, are you okay?”

“Shush!!" Steve scoots back against the column and sits there in the dusty corner, listening to the song.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas with ne’er a fear of drowning and gladly ride the waves of life if you will marry me.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

He does know this song.

The memory of his grandpa Otis singing this to his grandmother almost every morning while he stayed with them over summer is so clear now that he has hold of it, but how the hell does this person know it?

‘Dammit Steve, remember the lyrics!’ He scrubs his face with his hands and scans his memories for the next lines, pleading with his brain to give them up.

“No scorching sun nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey,” the person continues, quieter while they shuffle around the store.

It’s the next line that triggers Steve’s memory: “If you will promise me your heart, and lo—“

“And love me for eternity.” he sings aloud the next line, his butt getting cold from sitting on the floor.

“Who's that? Is someone there?” A jingling sound comes closer to the door, they must’ve been near the back of the store, did he sing that loud? Did this person have super hearing??

He looks over at Dustin, wide-eyed, to which the younger boy gives him an encouraging ‘shoo’-ing motion with a similar wide-eyed, smiling expression.

Steve stands and steps around the corner to face the other half of his duet before he can chicken out.

He’s greeted with the sight of Eddie Munson, local freak of Hawkins High, and subject of Steve’s longest standing, and most annoying crush. His long, dark hair is down but half hidden under a red bandana, his bangs and a few whispy pieces are pulled out from under it to fame his face. Dark jeans, a band tee, some retro reeboks on his feet and his store vest still over his shoulders...damn he's cute.

‘Has he been working here all summer? Oh fuck, that means he’s seen me in my uniform.’ his thoughts catch up to where he is. ‘Shit! I’m still in the damn thing! This is so embarrassing, can I still leave and not have it be weird..?’

Steve’s mouth and brain ignore his frazzled thoughts and take the reins for him, continuing the song on their own and sliding him past the gate into the store towards the other man as he does.

“My dearest love, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me,” he feels his face grow into a grin and reaches for the other man unconsciously to start the dance he’s known associated with full and true love all his life. “But I’ve no need for mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me!”

Eddie, who’d gone stock still, also seems to have a brain that’s working for him on its own accord and reaches back to take Steve's outstretched hand.

As soon as their fingers touch, Eddie unfreezes with a glowing grin and bright laugh, stepping with Steve in the long-learned dance as he continues the song. “But I would bring you rings of gold and even sing you poetry, and I would keep you from all harm if you would stay beside me!”

“I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry, I only want your hand to hold,”

Eddie cuts in with the echoing response “I only want you near me!”

“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold! For the dancing and the dreaming! Through all life's sorrows and delights, I’ll keep your laugh beside me!” the two race on together, picking the song and dance up in pace; kicking out their feet opposite the other while both their hands are grasped between them, Steve spinning Eddie out from him and pulling him back against his chest with his arms wrapped over and around him…Steve hasn’t felt this light in years.

The very last verse of the song has them locking their forearms together and spinning, practically prancing, in a circle. “I’ll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear of drowning and gladly ride the waves of life,” Faster and faster until:

“If you will marry me!”

Steve picks Eddie up at the waist, much like his grandfather would his grandma, spinning him through the line until they can’t hold the note any longer.

He sets Eddie back on his feet and they double over in laughter. Dustin, having entered the store at some point during their dance, is looking on like they're crazy.

“Munson! How do you know that song?!” Steve finally gets out, face hurting from how much he’s grinning.

“How do I— how do you ?? My mom would sing it constantly, even taught me the dance! How the hell do you know it?”

“That’s my grandparents’ song! Literally, like, okay not literally, I’m sure he didn’t write it or whatever,” he shakes his head and waves his hands, getting back on track, “but my grandpa would sing it to my grandma while he was doing his whole courting thing to get her to marry him. They’d sing and dance it almost every morning! How’d your mom get it?”

“She learned it from—“ Eddie's eyes widen in realization “From the couple whose house she helped take care of when I was little…”

Steve gapes at him in wonder. “Was that my—?” ”Was that your—?” they start at the same time, both men breathe out laughter.

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie shakes his head in delighted disbelief, eyes twinkling.

“That’s me Munson.” Steve can’t seem to stop grinning. “Better get used to that name too, cause as of now, we’re officially engaged.” He nods with finality, and heads back toward the exit, and waves at Dustin to follow.

“Oh yeah? That how it works? Maybe you need to sing it some more to convince me.”

Steve spins with a grin, walking backwards. “Anything you need, Future Mr. Harrington.”

Eddie splutters, his face turning a lovely shade of pink, but manages to quip back, “Who says I’m taking your name??”

Steve stops, pretending to think. “Hmmm. You know what? You got me, I’ve been writing ‘Steve Munson’ in my notebooks for years now.” Steve relishes in the bright red blush that spreads over the other man’s face at his (truthful) admission.

He gives the other man a wink and smirk before turning back and sliding out into the mall.

As soon as they are, Steve is accosted by Dustin's teasing.

“Ew! That was so gross and smarmy!” he’s grinning and jumping around, obviously trying to copy the footwork he just saw while they walk back to finish closing down Scoops.

Steve smiles, thinking back on Eddie’s flushed and happy face, his wild curls spinning out from him, the feeling of his hands around his slim waist, the feeling of Eddie in his arms…

Huh.

That was…definitely a series of thoughts he just had.

“It was the truth, Dusty.” He admits aloud.

“Pfft, yeah, sure Steve.” Dustin dismisses him, and Steve just shrugs it off, immediately imagining how funny it’d be, Dustin not taking him seriously until he’s invited to be Steve’s best man at his and Eddie’s wedding.

—-

“Aw fuck, it was right there, you even told me!”

“I did, yes.” Steve nods, leaning all his weight on the counter closest to him, elbows on the countertop. “Though I was just as surprised by the thought at the time that you are now.”

“How does he still think that you don’t like him?” Will laughs.

“He thinks I don’t like him?” he says, frowning over to Robin, down at the other end of the counter from him.

“Don’t look at me! We literally just had to force a musical number upon him in order to get him to figure out his own feelings; I don’t even want to know what we’ll have to do to convince him of yours.”

“I don’t know how much more obvious I can be, Bobs.”

Robin snorts, and the three teens start talking over one another at that. “You’ve already been–?”, “How’ve we not noticed…”, “Apparently you could be more obvious.”

“How Max, how?! Apparently he’s already proposed and Eddie’s none the wiser!”

“Don’t yell at me, Dustin.”

Steve huffs at the twos’ arguing, his brow furrowing further.

He looks back at Robin and before he can even get a word out, she says “I’d love to help Dingus, but I’m going to be absolutely no help in the ‘Guy’ area.”

Steve lets his head fall down between his shoulders, she’s right of course, but It’s actually Will that comes to his rescue.

“I might have an idea.”

Part 3 here!

woo!! part two! tbh, it's 10 pm and to me this looks good and is coherent but i'll probably re-read it tomorrow and have an annurysm...

anyway, shoutout to @/stevie.boy_19 on tiktok who made this video that i haven't stopped thinking about (obv.)

tagging those who seemed interested on part 1, hope that's ok!! @ent-is-indecisive, @mightbeasleep, @eyesofshinigami

196 notes · View notes

rjmartin11 · 1 month

Text

Hide and Go Seek One Shot

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: Elvis had been away from you for far too long, and you want to play with him in more ways than one.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. Viewer discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: Hello, world. RJ here. I'm just passing through with a one-shot that's been on the shelves of my mind for a while. I'm retired from writing, but I wanted y'all to have this. Something dirty. Enjoy.

・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・

It's been a full thirty-five days since Elvis left on his cross-country tour, and you missed him deeply. Even though he calls every few days to let you know where he is and how the shows are going, you need him around. His physical presence keeps you humble.

Although you have your hands full with a one year old baby boy. You want his daddy around to play with both of you. You feel like Elvis would have missed his first steps if he didn't walk in through the door that very moment.

He called you last night stating that he'd be home today. You haven't truly slept since the call. It only mattered that baby boy had rest, so he could play with daddy. You made sure he was fed and bathed.

You started cooking immediately for your weary traveler and his band of soldiers. All of Elvis' favorite dishes were to be made with exceptions. Fried chicken, barbecue chicken on the grill, potato salad, mustard greens, mashed potatoes with Smoky Mountain gravy, black-eyed peas, macaroni and cheese, cream onion casserole, and cornbread. For dessert, banana pudding, sweet potato pie, and Ms. Mary's chocolate cake.

You scrambled all over the kitchen with Ms. Mary and Ms. Nancy came in to help with the load. You worked a full six hours in preparation for your love to come home to a great meal. You knew the meals on the road consisted of junk food, so this had to be special.

As you started to slow down a bit, Ms. Nancy asked you to go upstairs and rest. You didn't want to fall asleep on Elvis, so you did as asked and slept for a few hours.

"Mama???" You hear his little voice from down the hall and open your eyes. "Mama???"

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and head to his room. You creep slow around the corner as you hear him continue to call your name. You peek your head in the door, and he starts to giggle. Your son has his daddy's contagious gift of laughter.

"Is that my little Garon?" You ask.

"Mama!" He says with excitement in his voice.

"Hi, Mama's baby boy. Mama's handsome baby boy," you say, taking him out of his crib.

You get him ready for the day, and you both head downstairs. The ladies have taken care of dinner just as promised. You hand Garon off to his Great Aunt Delta and Great-Grandma Dodger so you can finish getting dressed for Elvis' arrival. You take a quick shower and get your hair and makeup ready for him. You want to look irresistible for your love.

As you put the final touches on mascara, you hear a big commotion downstairs.

"Daddy's home," you say to yourself, finishing up.

You run out of the room and to the staircase just in time to see Elvis look up at you. His smile lights up the room, and your glows.

"Hello, Mrs. Presley," he says, greeting with Garon in his arm.

"Hello, my husband," you reply, walking down the stairs.

He walks up to you with his free arm open to you. You embrace him gently as your son is in his other arm. He kisses your head and whispers he missed you. You tell him how much you miss him and how glad he's home.

Everybody crowded into the kitchen to get a plate. You made Elvis' and Garon's plates first, and then everyone piled in for their plate. Ms. Nancy made you a plate, so you sit and eat.

For the next thirty to forty-five minutes, the house was alive with laughter and conversation. Everyone talking about the tour and their adventures on the road.

"All in all," Elvis starts, "it was an amazing trip. This tour was great. Now, I'm just grateful to rest for the next three months."

"Rest? My husband wants to rest?" You ask.

"Yes," he answered. "Traveling around the country is fun, but I wanna rest."

"I guess you can wait on that surprise I have for you," you whisper in his ear.

"Surprise??? Baby, you didn't have to get me anything."

"I wanted to," you say, kissing his cheek. "Get rid of the boys and come find me upstairs."

You pick up Garon and walk toward the door. You bid everyone good night. Your sister drops by and takes Garon home with her, so you and Elvis can have Graceland all to yourselves.

You go upstairs and wait for him on the bed. You waited six months, so another fifteen to thirty minutes wouldn't hurt.

You peek out the window as everyone leaves out the front door, piling into their cars. Elvis tells everyone goodnight and thanks them for everything. He turns and looks up at the window. He sees you staring back at him and smiles the notorious smile of his. You bite your lip and close the curtain.

Seconds later, he's up in the room looking at you sitting on the bed.

"My pretty little Satnin. How I've missed you," he whispers as he crawls on top of you.

"I missed you, E," you whisper back.

He starts passionately kissing. You start slipping your fingers in his hair as he does so, kissing him back. You've longed for this moment for six, dreaded long months.

You roll yourself on top of him and push yourself off of him. You stand in front of him and begin to undress. Elvis watches in awe of you. As you slip out of your panties, cock begins to tent in his pants.

"You missed me, E?" You ask.

"Can't you tell?" He asks back.

"Then why are your clothes still on?"

Without another thought, Elvis starts to unbutton his shirt and undo his belt. Pulling his pants down off of his hips, disposing them to the floor. His cock sits up long and hard before you. All the things you want to do his penis. All the things you've longed to do to his penis.

You bow in front of Elvis. Not allowing him to wait another moment to start to suck him off at the head of his cock. His head falls back, and he moans your name. You only do this for a few seconds until you get off of your knees. You gently climb on top of him until you both are face to face, kissing one another. Elvis rubs your back. Followed by your ass. Then, he slides his fingers in between your legs to your vaginal lips, gently stroking your clitorus. You indulge in the feeling a moment.

Then Elvis pumps his cock a few times, attempting to penatrate you. You stop him and whisper,

"I wanna play a game."

"What?" Elvis asks confused.

You crawl off of him, standing before him and repeat,

"I. Wanna. Play. A. Game."

Elvis, reluctant to your quips, answers you as he gently strokes the throbbing in his dick.

"What kind of a game, Y/N?"

"Hide and Go Seek. In the house. Naked."

Elvis, wide eye, pops his head up to look at you.

"A... w-what? Hide and seek in the house naked?" He answers.

You nod your head enthusiastically. The smile never leaves your face. You squeeze your legs at the thought of him catching you. It makes you wet.

"Y/N, baby. Garon? What if he needs us?"

"He's with his aunt. He'll be with her for the rest of the night."

"Mary? Nancy?"

"I gave them the night off. They helped me cook your welcome home dinner. They earned it."

"Dodger? Aunt Delta?"

"E, everyone is gone. Graceland is all ours for the evening. Surprise."

Elvis smirks to you with that infamous smirk that makes your heart gallop, your knees quiver, and pussy drips. Elvis sits up on the bed, looking at you like he could eat you alive.

"You have twenty seconds to hide before I stuff my dick so far up your pussy they hear you scream on Beale Street," Elvis says.

"That's only if you can catch me," you laugh, running out the door and down the stairs.

"One!" Elvis shouts, standing from the bed.

"Two! Three!" He continues to shout.

Elvis gets quiet as he starts searching the house for you. He walks downstairs, allowing the soft carpet to massage his bare feet. He quietly looks in the living room, and he even takes the extra steps to see if you're hiding in the music room. He'd love to fuck you on top of the piano.

He walks into the dining area and checks under the table. He makes way into the kitchen, silently searching for you. He rubs the ache in his dick, begging for a release only you can prove.

"Y/N?" He calls out to you. "Oh, Y/N. Where are you?" He asks.

He walks towards the Jungle Room, but there's still no sign of you. It doesn't make him mad. It only makes him want you more. He so enjoys the chase.

"Oh, you are so good at this, Y/N," he says. "I'm going to find you, and I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll be begging me to stop."

You start to giggle but quietly move downstairs. Elvis heard you and ran to the sound of your voice.

"Baby, no cheating now. If you left the house, that's cheating. You want the public to see you. That beautiful, naked body of yours."

*ring* goes the phone.

Elvis looks at the phone confused. Who could be calling you and him right in the middle of your game. Hesitant, Elvis picks up the phone and answers.

"Hello?"

"I didn't leave the house," you say over the phone.

"Y/N, you naughty girl. You deserve a spankin'."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Once I get my hands on you..."

"Talk is cheap, Presley."

"Tell me where you are."

"Where's the fun in that?" You answered him. "You're so close, E."

"Give me a hint."

"Well, there are six phones in the house. One in your study. The kitchen. The bedroom. The living room. And the other two are... E?"

Elvis goes quiet. Dead quiet to the point that it scares you. Then you realize he knows where you are!!! He knows you're downstairs! You drop the phone and try to make a run for it, but he grabs you as you get to the doorway. You yell with excitement.

You back away from him. You made him wait to pleasure you too long. He's sex deprived, hungry, and needy for you. You can see the lust in his eyes. Where the color of his eyes was once a clear blue, you now see a stormy dark gray.

"Now, E..." You say trying to calm him down.

"Silence," Elvis says, backing you up to the sofa.

You run away from him further into the den of the room, but he's right behind you. He grabs you and lays you face down on the sofa. He slaps your ass a few times cause moans to escape from your lips.

"Bad girl," Elvis says, through clinched teeth.

*smack*

"Making me wait to fuck you."

*smack*

"Not allowing me to take what's rightfully mine."

*smack*

"Awe!" Is all you can muster up.

The action makes you wetter. You start to hump the couch as another smack lands across your backside. Elvis has your hands where you can please yourself, so you fuck the sofa.

He forces his hand upon your ass once more, then he raises you ass in the air where you can't grind the sofa.

"Elvis, please," you beg.

"Elvis, please!" He mocks you, placing another smack to your rear end.

Then, without warning, he stuffs himself inside your pussy from behind. You let out such a moan at the penatration and pleasure that fulls you up. Holding your sides, he pounds his rock-hard dick inside with fervor. You delight in the feeling of being one with him.

With your hands free, you waste no time placing your fingers on your clit to work yourself into a frenzy. He pumps into you for a few minutes until he pulls out of you, turning you around to fuck you from the front.

He hungrily kisses your lips and makes his way down your neck. He takes his time going down to your breast, giving them special treatment. You moan at the sensation of his lips on your skin. They're like two plush clouds massaging you.

Elvis bites your left nipple causing you to scream. He looks at you with that devilish grin and licks the ache away. He sits up for a moment, and you take this opportunity to kiss him. You push him on his back, mounting his cock. He helps you line yourself up with his cock, and pulls you down to relieve the ache of pleasure. You both moan at the first stroke of each other.

You begin to ride his penis like you're on saddle back. You start slow at a slow trot and pick up the pace into a full gallop. Your heart has been racing since the beginning of your little game. But it's nothing compared to the way it races with Elvis inside you. You love this man so much.

He pushes himself inside you just right where he hits your g spot, and your moans fill the room. You are so blissed out from ecstasy that you tumble on top of him. He holds you closer than a toddler holds his or her teddy bear.

You both lay there quietly, just enjoying each other's company.

"Baby," Elvis says, "That was the best game of hide and seek I've ever played. I never knew running around Graceland naked could be such fun."

"Oh, I did, E. I knew," you say, wrapping his arm around you.

"So, what's the next game, Y/N?" He asks, kissing your head.

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorowforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @littlehoneyposts @msamarican

#elvis #elvispresley #romance #elvis fans #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n

46 notes · View notes

ellewritesandrants · 2 years

Text

I was suddenly hit with the idea of Hidden Omega! Billy trying to fight his instincts to take care of the kids after they imprint on him in S2 and I just needed to write it out. This may or may not end up a one-shot series later on down the road.

So his pack is really big in California and he's like the baby of his friend group and they all try to protect him and take care of him because they know what he is. His dad finds him getting cozy with one of the alphas in his pack and all of sudden, he's shipped off to Hawkins with only Max as his remaining pack and he's forced to pretend to be an alpha because his dad is sick and tired of having a "pathetic omega" for a son. He and Max are worlds closer already because she's like his pup and they met right around when he presented so he is very overprotective of her.

Cue him finding his pup and another pup in danger in the junkyard since he actually gave a shit and found out about Max sneaking out sooner and he tracked their pack bond to the junk yard. He goes all feral at the demodogs and when he finds out that there were more pups in danger, he begrudgingly agreed to help. There isn't a fight between him and Steve and surprisingly, they get through it without any major hiccups. He doesn't hurt Lucas or anything like that because he sees their entire group as his pups. They come out of it bonded into a pack through mutual trauma though so after everything, Billy struggles with trying to help the kids to assuage his instincts while hiding the fact that he is an omega.

Maybe, he has individual encounters with the kids and they slowly put together the puzzle with El being the very last one. Maybe, he scares the hell out of Troy and James when they try to bully Will and he starts driving Will with Max because he doesn't want it to happen again. Maybe, he sees Dustin struggling with an English assignment in the library and he helps him work on his essay and even get his first A+ in English for the year. Maybe, he sees Lucas practicing to get into the basketball team and he offers to give him some pointers in a 1-on-1 session that becomes a bi-monthly thing. Maybe, he clears things up between Mike and Will before things can become toxic and he clears up Mike's image on gay people in general. Maybe, he's asked last minute by a harried Joyce to watch over El and Will one night when Hopper had an emergency in the station and she had to take over the midnight shift at Melvald's and El happily asks him to make a nest for them to cuddle in while they watch movies and he doesn't bother correcting her and that's how Will finds out that Billy's an omega.

The kids all meet up at Steve's house for a D&D session, talking about anything and everything while waiting for Max and Billy when Steve pipes up about Billy being weird and sharing food with him and commenting on his lack of sleep and his weight loss. The kids all share about their personal experiences with Will not bothering to pipe up and El making a comment that he's just being how he is. When Billy arrives, he has snacks for the kids because while his dad wants Billy to be an alpha he's still a sexist asshole who thinks omegas are only meant to cook and clean and take care of kids.

Things come to a head when Steve forgets to keep track of his rut cycle and he ends up starting his rut in basketball practice. No one can get near him until Billy pulls off his multiple scent blockers and the feral alpha calms down at the scent of his pack omega. In a small town like Hawkins, news travels fast and that night, since Billy had helped Steve go home, Neil practically breaks down Steve's door only to find himself faced with Billy's new pack which includes the Chief and his daughter with mind powers. Needless to say, Neil loses any say he has on his children's lives that night and he runs away like a coward. Steve courts Billy all proper while the kids revel at having a proper Pack Mom and Pack Dad who provides for them and takes care of them.

#omega billy hargrove #billy hargrove #billy and max #harringrove #billy deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things rewrite #harringrove a/b/o #tw a/b/o #a/b/o fic #billy and kids #billy and the party #alpha steve harrington #ellewritesandrants #billy hargrove redemption

368 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 1 year

Text

STH — The Base Violence Necessary for Change - 1

The thing about the stench of fresh blood is that it was less of a smell, and more of a taste in the back of your throat.

Sonic smelled—tasted—the blood before he saw it. Having just turned eleven three months ago, he was told to stay home while his parents, uncle, and other adults went to the bridge connecting the Undercity to Piltover—while his parents, uncle, and other adults went to fight. They didn’t know that he knew. They didn’t know that he sat in the crawlspace behind the living room wall to listen in on their private conversations after he was supposed to have gone to bed. They didn’t know that he knew what it meant when the enforcers patrolled their streets and looked at him like he was a piece of trash that had missed the bin by a mile. They didn’t know that he’d spent the last few months racing himself around the Lanes to build up his speed, and sparring with Mighty in the alleys so they could be ready to help when the time for the big battle came. They didn’t know any of that.

And now they never would.

Bodies—so many bodies, countless bodies and none of them in enforcer uniforms—littered the bridge. Gunpowder smoke hung heavy in the air; it burned Sonic’s nose and throat and did little to quell his nausea as he stared at what used to be his neighbor, but was now just another body on the bridge, staring up at him with open, empty eyes.

Sonic swallowed, and clamped his mouth shut hard as an involuntary retch shook through him. He was supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but he was supposed to be here—he hadn’t meant to be late. He’d hung back just long enough that his parents and uncle would get to the bridge, so they hopefully wouldn’t notice when he arrived. And then he’d dodge the enforcers’ gunfire and disarm them and—

The enforcers.

Sonic looked up, squinting against the haze of smoke and burning floodlights. Across the sea of corpses he could see their silhouettes; they formed a barricade, holding firm even now that their opposition lay in an ocean of blood at their feet. But they didn’t make a move on him. Maybe they didn’t see him. His neighbor’s shoulder was level with his knee. He’d never felt smaller than—

“De-ear friend ah-cross the ri-iver, my ha-ands are cold and bare—”

A shudder jolted through Sonic, rippling through his quills, at the sound of the tiny, hiccupping voice. It was faint—so small, the tiniest of tiny voices, singing a broken lullaby from somewhere on the bridge.

“Dear fri-end across the riv-ver, I’ll take what you can s-spare—”

Bodies, bodies, bodies. His neighbor, the proprietor of his favorite food stall in the market, Ray’s moms, his own uncle—they were all Sonic could see. So he closed his eyes, and focused on what he could hear as he slowly made his way through the mess of corpses.

“I ask of you a—a penny, my for-fortune it wi-will be, I ask you witho-out envy—”

Every time his toes nudged a body, he stepped over. He slid as his foot hit a blood slick, and windmilled his arms to keep his balance so he wouldn’t fall on—he cracked open his eyes just a peek—Mighty’s dad. He closed his eyes again. Swallowed his vomit. And stepped over the body, and closer to the voice.

“S-so come acr-across the ri-iver, and find . . .”

The Prower kid.

The tiny, sobbing warble was right by his feet now, and somehow—even before he opened his eyes again—Sonic knew who it belonged to. At his feet were two more bodies—adult foxes he recognized as Mr and Ms Prower, who owned the junk shop in the Lanes. Not that all they had was junk. Sometimes they had some pretty cool gadgets and things from topside. Sonic wasn’t interested in techy stuff himself much, but sometimes it was cool to look at. But now they were here, their bodies riddled with bullet holes, their eyes glassy and unfocused. And crouched between them was their four-year-old son, his twin tails wrapped around him, his hands pressing his ears flat against his head as he self-soothed with the lullaby.

Miles, Sonic thought his name was.

Sonic didn’t know what Miles was doing there. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Neither of them were supposed to be there. None of them should have been there. Everyone was dead. The Lanes would be left to the orphans. And for what? What had they accomplished? What would change?

Sonic curled his left hand into a fist, and set his right one on Miles’ head.

Miles jumped backward, out of his touch, and for a long second stared at Sonic with wide, terrified eyes. Then his face crumpled, and Sonic barely had time to catch him as Miles threw himself at Sonic’s chest, sobbing for all he was worth.

Sonic didn’t know what Miles was doing there on the bridge. The Prowers wouldn’t have brought him, so he must have followed, much like Sonic himself had. Maybe he had wanted to help. Maybe he should have known better. Sonic should have probably known better.

He held Miles close to him, and stole another look at the enforcers across the bridge. They still didn’t see him, but he saw them.

He held Miles a little tighter.

He would never let this happen again.

#sonic arcane AU #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #unbreakable bond #fic fix #sometimes when you feel like clawing your guts out #you just write something a little dark for catharsis #sth

34 notes · View notes

plumawolf · 3 months

Text

The Fallout Who Regenerated mod adds so much more to the story of Fallout 4 than I first thought.

For context, I haven’t played much of the game myself. I dabbled in it a bit a few years ago, didn’t progress all that much, but I know the story because of playthrough and general curiosity. But recently I’ve had major Doctor Who brainrot again, and only just found out about Fallout Who Regenerated. I thought “A mod for a game I already have where you can repair and fly your own TARDIS? Sign me the fuck up!”

Yes, flying the TARDIS is cool. The new Doctor Who themed tracks added are just *chef's kiss.* Go look them up on youtube.

But holy shit.

The premise of this game is already so angsty. But here’s a bit of how I imagine my character’s experience from her pov went when I started a new game with the mod installed. Beware: this part is long and will contain spoilers for both Fallout 4 and Fallout Who Regenerated.

My husband has been murdered, my son kidnapped. I’ve been frozen for who knows how long. I get out of the vault, desperate to see my baby again. Right away, I see Codsworth, still trying to clean a house that’s been abandoned for what he tells me has been two centuries, and he gives me a holodisk from my husband. I don’t listen to it immediately. I'm too desperate to find at least one other person in this desolate hellscape. But I pop it into my Pip-Boy anyway, for later.

I find a stray dog, the first friendly face I've seen in this place that isn't made of metal. I find the Minutemen not long after when I follow the sound of gunshots. I help them out with the raiders, defend against the Deathclaw attracted by the gunfire. The old lady with them says she’s psychic and that my son is alive, and I’ve never been much of a believer in that kind of thing, but I’ll take anything at this point. We all head back to Sanctuary, a not-so-merry band of survivors armed only with pistols and a rifle scraped together out of junk.

We arrive back at Sanctuary and set up camp. It's not much, but the little life returning to my old neighborhood gives me some comfort. I am not alone.

I'm cleaning out the root cellar of another wrecked house, searching for anything that could be scrapped and repurposed, because we still need a way to purify water. And that is when I hear it. Whispers, in a language that I don't understand, but I get such a familiar feeling. Something compels me to look down at the shelf I just searched, really look at it. And there, glinting in the dim lamplight, is a golden pocket watch, and a silver key.

Curiosity overwhelms me. The key looks rather unassuming, but the pocket watch is decorated with many circular designs, overlapping and intertwining in intricate patterns. It feels familiar in my hand, and is surprisingly warm to the touch. The whispers grow louder, and it's almost as if they're inside my mind itself...

The moment I open the pocket watch, it's as if I'd been looking through a pinhole my entire life, but someone has just ripped it wide open. And I remember everything.

I am a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterborous. I came to this planet to hide, hide so well that I would forget my true identity. It takes a few moments to recover from the sheer flood of memories and information, but when I am, it's like I've been reborn. And the first thing I must do is find my TARDIS.

It's not hard to hook up the TARDIS key to my Pip-Boy so I can create a homing signal to its location. Anticipation clogs my throat, my hearts beat faster as the signal gets stronger. I rush past the other settlers, ignoring their worry and questions. And I see it. I see it.

The Chameleon Circuit is completely busted, judging by the exterior, which has reverted to the generic silver cylinder shape. But when I open the door for the first time in centuries, I can feel her in my mind. She hums, pleased to see me again after so long. As I check on her systems and assess the damage (and there is quite a lot), I find myself smiling again. In fact, as I step into the TARDIS depths to look for the instruction and repair manuals (I always lose the damned things... an infinite ship with infinite possibilities, but I'd never thought to use any filing cabinets...), I feel almost giddy. I trail my hands along the walls, passing by rooms I haven't visited in years.

Finally, I reach the library. It's much more bare than it used to be - the TARDIS had to clear quite a lot of space to preserve her systems while I was away, mostly due to the damage she sustained upon landing. When I approach the writing desk in the middle of the room, I see that the TARDIS has already taken the liberty of presenting the instruction manual, in holodisk form for my convenience. I smile and thank her for it. She hums jovially in return.

However, when I open my Pip-Boy, there is already a holodisk inside. My stomach sinks when I remember that it is the one that Nate, my human self's husband, intended to give to me. Against my better judgement, I play it. When it is over, Nate's "We love you" and the last of Shaun's gurgles leave me feeling hollow. I feel the vastness of the TARDIS. Vast, but so very, very empty.

Even after I repair my TARDIS, I cannot leave. I will not, not yet. Because even though I am my true self again, that human version of me still grieves so deeply for her murdered husband, and cares so fiercely for the son that she lost. Even though I am not his mother anymore, I still feel the love that she felt for him. I cannot run away from this. I must find Shaun again.

#fallout 4 #doctor who #fallout who regenerated #fallout 4 mods #angst #i am absolutely gutted by the implications of this mod in the context of the story #or is it just me #i just wanted to fly a tardis dammit #now i'm just emotionally damaged #oops this got long #pluma's writing thoughts

4 notes · View notes

squill79 · 11 months

Text

Stormo

Finally wrote another Adventure Time fanfic! This is actually based off of an unused episode concept that Adam Muto once mentioned. I always wished that Goliad and Stormo would get a follow up episode after their debut in Goliad's titular season 4 episode. Enjoy!

(We open on Finn and Jake on their way to the Candy Kingdom. It is Stormo's fourth birthday. Finn is carrying a gift)

Jake: "Man, I don't see why you insist on doing this every year. That thing gives me the creeps."

Finn: "He's not a thing, he's my son. And I don't wanna be a poo-brained washed-up loser of a parent like my bio-dad."

Jake: "Yeah I get that, but that eyeball dude. It freaks me the bajeebs out!"

Finn: "Oh come on Jake, it's not so bad! If it weren't for his big ol' eyeball keeping Goliad in check, the whole Candy Kingdom would be all donked up."

Jake: "Yeah I guess. I still don't like it."

(Finn and Jake arrive at the Candy Kingdom. They get to the top of the castle where Stromo is still holding Goliad back)

Finn: "Why if it isn't the birthday boy! Four years old and not looking a day past two. How's it been Stormo?"

Stormo: "..."

Jake: "You know he can't speak right?"

Finn: "Yeah but I like to pretend he does. (Finn grabs the gift and presents it to Stormo) Unkie Jake and I got you a present Stormo!"

Stormo: "..."

Finn: "I'll open it for ya. (Finn unwraps the gift and holds up a pair of scissors and razor) Whaaaaat!?! It's a haircut! Come on, let's trim that beautiful scalp of yours buddy!"

Jake: "Are you sure he wants a haircut? I don't think he cares man."

Finn: "Awww come on! He doesn't want all that hair in his face, (Finn starts trimming Stormo's hair) besides, if he's anything like his dad then his hair will grow quick as heck."

Jake: "Uuuuh... Finn"

Finn: "Yeah?"

PLOP

(Finn looks down. He sees Stormo's severed eye. He looks back at Stormo and sees that he accidentally cut his eye off)

Finn: "AAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

Jake: "Dude that's sick!"

Finn: "DUUUDE! NOW GOLIAD CAN GUNK UP THE WHOLE KINGDOM WITH HER MIND CONTROL JUNK!"

Jake: "OH DUDE WHAT DO WE DO?!?!?"

Finn: "We have to get PB. She'll know what to do-"

(The castle crumbles and Finn and Jake fall to ground level. They look up to seee Goliad mind controlling all of the candy citizens, including Princess Bubblegum, into forming a huge body, with Goliad taking place as the head)

Goliad: "Ha ha ha ha! Now that I have control, the kingdom is mine! I'm gonna demolish it all! Pretty soon the Candy Kingdom will be the Goliad Kingdom!"

Finn: "Dang man, Goliad's gunking things up hardcore! How do we stop her?"

Stormo: "Her eyeball."

Finn: "What?"

Stormo: "You need to cut off her eyeball like you did to mine. Then she'll lose her mind control powers."

(Jake fights off Goliad in the background)

Finn: "Dude you can talk?"

Stormo: "Yes. I've managed to pick up on your language from your previous birthday visits."

Finn: "But how come you never said anything?"

Stormo: "I never needed to. My sole purpose is keeping Goliad under control."

Finn: "Aww dude. You're more than just that."

Stormo: "That's very sweet but that's not important right now."

(Goliad slams Jake down on the ground)

Goliad: "Brother! You had the option to join me! We could have ruled together! But here we are! You chose this!"

Jake: "Hey man, how do we stop her?"

Finn: "Stormo says we gotta cut off her eye."

Jake: "Yeah but how do we do that? She's like crazy tall now."

Stormo: "I can give you two a lift."

Finn: "Yeah let's go Stormo!"

(Finn and Jake get on top of Stormo and he rides them up Goliad's body of candy people)

Finn: "Hey Stormo, how are you able to see Goliad without your eye?"

Stormo: "It's our shared psychic link we have as siblings. I can sense her being even without my eyesight."

Finn: "Oh rad."

(Stormo finally reaches the top of Goliad and Finn takes the Night Sword out of his backpack and points it towards Goliad)

Goliad: "Brother, why would you help them? They are the enemy!"

Stormo: "I'm sorry sister, but you have gone too far."

(Finn slices Goliad's eye off. Finn, Jake, Stormo, Goliad, Princess Bubblegum, and all of the candy citizens fall to the ground)

Princess Bubblegum: "(Hazy and confused) Dude what???"

(Cut to about three hours later)

(Bubblegum is seen repairing Stormo's eye in her lab)

Princess Bubblegum: "There we go, good as new!"

Stormo: "Thank you princess."

Jake: "Sorry for being grossed out by your eye."

Stormo: "That's ok. It is crazy nasty."

Finn: "So now that Goliad is locked up, what are you gonna do? You can stay with me and Jake if you want."

Stormo: "Thanks, but it's time I explore the world for myself and find a new purpose. I have been static for far too long. I'll see you around dad."

(Stormo jumps out the window and runs off into the sunset)

Finn: "Happy birthday Stormo."

#adventure time #fan fiction #writing #storytelling

7 notes · View notes

cryingoflot49 · 10 months

Photo

Book Review

Garbage World by Charles Platt

“Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me/I wanna be dirty,” sang Janet Weiss, played by Susan Sarandon, in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It could very well be the theme song of Roach, a character in Garbage World by Charles Platt since it fits his transformation from neat-freak to filth monger as the plot progresses. Roach is the pivot on which the novel turns. It is a book with a simple and unoriginal plot, and it makes a definite statement about class conflict, but it isn’t an entirely serious book and if you read it thatv way, it can be rewarding.

Somewhere in outer space there is a political entity called the United Asteroid Belt Pleasure Worlds Federation. While the asteroids these people inhabit are never fully described, we do learn that they are a high-tech civilization with high living standards, and an abundance of wealth. Their biggest problem is waste disposal. What they do is fill up blimps with garbage and then drop them on another asteroid named Kopra, which is also the Greek word for “feces”. The problem is that so much trash has been dropped on Kopra that the asteroid is fracturing under the weight and will soon break into pieces, spreading all the garbage throughout the immediate surroundings and ruining the cleanliness of the more developed asteroids in the federation.

Roach arrives in a spaceship with his commanding officer Larkin with plans to move the inhabitants of Kopra off the asteroid until they are able to fix it to prevent the catastrophe. The people living on Kopra are led by Gaylord, a giant bearish man with no sense of cleanliness or refinement. He earned his status as leader by accumulating the biggest hoard of junk which he has organized and labeled like pieces in a museum in his basement. His hoard makes Gaylord powerful because he is resourceful enough to know what to do with all his garbage when the time requires it. Larkin and Roach are anal-retentive germaphobes, but Gaylord finds common ground with Roach and a friendship grows between them. Roach also falls in love with Gaylord’s daughter Juliette. Gaylord also has a son named Oliver who leans a little bit more to the clean side and secretly agrees to help Larkin who has not been entirely honest about their mission on Kopra.

Roach is a bit of a humanitarian whose job is to collect information about the inhabitants of Kopra. He goes about studying them like an anthropologist. By that I mean he studies them with all the haughtiness and contempt that anthropologists in the colonial era studied so-called “primitive societies”. Still he cares enough about the Koprans to want to save them from their dirty and lowly status in the universe. Larkin, however, cannot be trusted and his plan is to exterminate the people there along with his efforts to prevent Kopra from exploding and polluting the entire asteroid belt with the filth his people have dumped on Kopra.

There are other inhabitants on the asteroid they call the Nomads. They live in the jungle under much rougher conditions and also survive by scavenging the junk that falls in blimps from the sky. Roach sets out with Gaylord and Juliette to find the Nomads so they can bring them back to the spaceship to be taken away while the asteroid of Kopra gets repaired. However, somebody sabotaged their vehicle and they come close to death, but the nomads save them from disaster. T o their surprise, the nomads turn out to be peaceful and hospitable people. The whole middle section of this novel is a series of adventures in the strange and dirty landscape of Kopra. Along the way, Roach begins to respect the Koprans more and more as he becomes accustomed to being dirty and gradually adapting to the environment of filth.

Roach’s transformation is complete when he falls into a warm mud pit with Juliette and the two get it on, having some truly dirty sex. This was actually my favorite part of the novel; Platt’s description of love making while submerged in warm and slimy mud was actually quite arousing. It wasn’t overly described either. There was just enough there to give you the tactile sensation necessary to make Kopra seem like it could actually be a nice place to visit. Needless to say, Roach has gone native at this point and, for him, there is no turning back.

Beyond that, I will just say you have to read the book to find out what happens.

Garbage World is a lot like the pulp science-fiction adventure stories of the 1920s and I am sure the author was aware of that. Those stories often had a colonialist mentality either latent or overt. A courageous spaceman travels to another planet or another dimension and encounters tribes of dangerous creatures that often bear the physical characteristics of non-European people. The hero falls in love with a local female and manages to escape before getting chopped up and eaten, killed by bug-eyed monsters, or flayed with primitive lasers. Garbage World turns this whole fictional paradigm on its head. In the post-colonial 1970s, there were more than a few social scientists pushing the idea that colonial subjects were just as human as the colonists and deserved to be treated as such. Charles Platt obviously took a cue from this change in attitudes and wrote Garbage World. It is an obvious critique of the way people in developed countries treat people in the Third World. The people of Kopra are portrayed as being resourceful and intelligent enough to make the most of their living conditions, even thriving on Kopra, finding happiness and the full realization of their human potential. Meanwhile the neat-freaks who invade their territory are the ones who created the conditions on Kopra and then plot to destroy them for being dirty, useless, and primitive. The dirty people of Kopra are the good ones while their technocratic adversaries reveal a link between colonialism, fascism, and obsessive cleanliness. By the end of the book, dirtiness is a virtue and Kopra looks like a borderline utopia. This book also reflects the growing concerns over ecology and environmentalism of the times in the 1970s.

Charles Platt’s Garbage World is a simple book on the surface. It was written primarily for entertainment. But when looked at in the context of the time when it was written, and the chronological space it holds in the progression of science-fiction writing, it makes a definite humanitarian statement. Despite the statement it makes, it is not a serious work of literature and it should not be approached as one. But if read solely for fun, the morality of the story may come out a lot more strongly. So go ahead and read it for fun and see what happens. Just don’t hide it under your mattress so your mother won’t find it; it’s not that kinds of a dirty book. And if anybody ever wants to have some filthy sex in a warm mud puddle, remember this book and don’t deny yourself that opportunity.

#book reviews #charles platt #science fiction

6 notes · View notes

hext00ns · 2 years

Text

Psychic Who Cried Sick {@sicktember}

AO3 l!nk in comments

Ships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter & Shawn Spencer, Juliet O'Hara & Shawn Spencer

Rating: T

Warnings: Poisoning, Attempted Murder

Description: Shawn takes a case that no one believes in. He has to wonder if they’ll believe him if he winds up dead.

{Sicktember 2022 Day 7: A Cry For Attention}

-- Santa Barbara, 1985 --

Young hands grabbed at the discarded mail as discreetly as he could. His eyes scanned over one of the letters taking in all the information he needed. He ran back to the kitchen, keeping an eye out for his father all the while. He reached for the scissors to use as a makeshift letter opener and started on the seal.

“Shawn!”

The voice startled him. He shoved the scissors back into their place and the letter behind his back. He spun on his heels to look up at his father. “Yeah dad?”

Henry fully came into the kitchen and looked down at the child with a disapproving eye. “What do you have behind your back?”

“Nothing,” Shawn tried to mumble, knowing full well he’d already been caught.

“Hand it over, now.” Henry opened his palm out to his son.

Shawn sighed and gave the envelope up.

“Why the hell were you trying to open this? This isn’t even addressed to you.”

“You were just gonna throw it away!” Shawn retorted.

“So? That doesn’t mean you can just open someone else’s mail. That’s illegal, Shawn. Not to mention potentially dangerous. You don't know what could be in one of these. Curiosity killed the cat, kid.”

“Yeah, but satisfaction brought him back.”

Henry frowned. “Don’t be a smart ass. That’s not how the real world works. Why do you want this junk mail anyways?”

“It’s a credit card offer,” Shawn stated. “I wanted to pull the glue off the cards.”

-- Santa Barbara, Present Day --

Trying to convince a building full of officers that your client was being targeted while having next to no evidence was kinda impossible. Shawn knew that. He knew this was not going to be an easy task. He also knew that ‘impossible’ was just a word and Shawn wasn’t interested in dictionaries. He, instead, was electing to ignore the perceived meaning of the word learned through 30 decades of language context clues.

That’s what led him to his new career as a bodyguard. Who cared about detectives anyways. Bodyguards were what the chicks digged these days. Not that anyone could know he was a bodyguard. That would defeat the whole point of trying to catch this unknown stalker in the act.

Instead, he made flirtatious comments to Juliet and Lassiter about his sexy new job and let Gus know that a ride home wasn’t needed. Once his bases were covered he was off.

Mitchel Collins’ apartment was pretty average. It was definitely cleaner than Shawn’s but nothing too interesting of note to make of it. A second of observation told Shawn all he needed to know about the guy. For one, he still wasn’t over his last girlfriend. Though, to be fair, that one didn’t look much like it was his fault. A return address on a letter reading ‘Shanghai’ was a pretty good indicator that the relationship ended on a mutual understanding.

He also could tell that Mitchel was preparing the house for a cat but that the animal hadn’t arrived yet. The new bag of unopened cat food and a half-set-up litter box told that story clear as day.

Mitchel was a normal, if kinda lonely, dude.

What wasn’t normal, however, was the way he had his eye glued to his peep hole the moment the door was shut.

“Expecting someone?”

“Hell no,” was the gruff response.

Shawn made sure to jot down ‘paranoid’ in his mental notes. Though, he couldn’t really blame the guy. After all, paranoia is a pretty understandable response to three attempted murders.

Well, seven if you counted the four individual attempted poisonings all from the same restaurant. (Which Shawn was but Gus was not. Seven sounded cooler.)

The unfortunate part of the attempts on his life were that none left any trace of evidence. Nothing that made it seem like more than a couple freak accidents. Not even the restaurant incidents. None of the workers that Mitchel had seen those days he recognized. Not to mention that the three poisonings were spread out by a week or two between them. As for Shawn’s own looking into things, he also couldn’t sniff out anything weird.

As far as the police were concerned, they were just mishaps in the kitchen. Shawn called them attempted poisonings because that’s what Mitchel had called them when he was crying in the middle of the Psych office. In reality, even that was a bit of a stretch. What it had actually been was someone had left nuts in his order. Albeit, Mitchel was deathly allergic to nuts and already one of those three occasions had caused him to need an epipen (which, thankfully he had on his person at the time). However, it all still was much too circumstantial for the big boys in blue.

That was why Mitchel had come to Shawn. And that was why, if Shawn was to get any headway on this case, he would need to see the next attempt personally.

“Stop glaring out your peephole like that. Some poor children are gonna think Mr. Wilson lives here.”

Mitchel pulled himself from his door and gave Shawn a weary look. With a sigh he finally walked away completely and fell onto his couch. “Are you sure this is gonna work? I mean, what if-“

“Mitchie, baby,” Shawn cut him off. He stood before the couch with his arms crossed. “It’ll be fine. Remember, you have a world class psychic with you now. I’ll know where the next attempt is coming from before even the murderer does.” Shawn put his hands on his hips and gave the room another look around. “Now uhh, you got anything to drink? The spirits are parched.”

---

Shawn followed Mitchel around all day. Nothing seemed to really happen. Not even an odd word from a coworker or a strange phone call with a Darth Vader impersonator. It was all quiet.

Gus had already given his opinion on the case when Mitchel had first walked in. Gus had agreed with the police. Decided the guy was a clinical paranoid and needed a therapist, not a psychic. Even chalked the incidents at the restaurant to being that the place just sucks. (Apparently, Gus also had bad run-ins at Uncle Yum’s Hot Spot. From Gus’ retelling, the place had a bad rep with messing up orders. However, Shawn would also point out a place called ‘Uncle Yum’s Hot Spot’ probably isn’t best known for its spectacular service. Also, Gus had only gone there once. Mitchel had gone there practically twice a week or more for months since he moved to Santa Barbara.)

Either way, it seemed both Gus and the police had all decided their opinions both on the case as a whole and on Mitchel himself. At this point it wasn’t even worth calling his father to try and get another perspective on the matter. He was sure Henry would just parrot the same.

But Shawn was sure there was something more here. From what he could tell, Mitchel didn’t have a history of paranoia and he definitely didn’t have a history of cartoonishly Donald Duck-like bad luck. It was all tied together. It had to be. A clinically paranoid person wouldn’t go to a bunch of strangers looking for help. A restaurant, no matter how bad, would be hard pressed to fuck up so bad so often and with the same guy. Shawn had even looked into the place’s history. Their service wasn’t the best, like he’d expected, but they’d never caused anyone to die.

As for the other two times: Mitchel’s apartment almost burning down during the night by his stove and a car attempting to run him off the road. Both could easily be seen as accidents as well. However, Shawn knew for a fact, both by word of mouth and by observation, that Mitchel couldn’t cook. His own words even confirmed that he was terribly bad at it. The ramen packs in his kitchen and take-out boxes in the trash only helped the case.

The car off the road really could have been an accident. Shawn couldn’t see any evidence on Mitchel’s car to suspect foul play at least on that end. And since he hadn’t been there to witness the event, he really couldn’t be sure what had happened that night. As far as Shawn knew, it really could have been an accident. However, with the other ‘accidents’ seeming to be anything but, Shawn was hard pressed to disbelieve Mitchel’s recount of the event.

But that was where the problem really was. All these events really did seem circumstantial. There was no hard evidence that Shawn could dig up to help the situation. It was as if he were going after a ghost. But Shawn didn’t believe in ghosts and every time he was sent out after one he always came back with a suspect instead of a spirit.

But this time there were no suspects. Not even the unenthused servers at Uncle Yum’s had anything to hide from what he could tell. Shawn could only really hope that his time with Mitchel would produce anything even somewhat close to a lead.

The mysterious perpetrator had to slip up eventually. Their patience had to be wearing thin with every botched attempt. Shawn was banking on that being the case. It was all he had to go on. It was either that or he could leave and wait for the day Mitchel’s body showed up in the coroner’s office.

When nothing happened the whole day, Shawn stayed the night. When nothing happened during the night, Shawn walked out to help Mitchel get the mail. A large package was there for him along with a couple of letters. Mitchel grabbed the box and Shawn the letters to walk it all back to his place.

While they walked back, Shawn looked through the mail out of nothing more than boredom. Four letters. Two were credit card offers, one a bill, and the last one was hand written. The last one caught Shawn’s attention the most.

The return address said ‘Shanghai’ but there was something off about it. The handwriting was wrong. It wasn’t the same as the other letters Mitchel had lovingly kept. However, it did look familiar.

When they got into the apartment Mitchel went to work opening the box. Some cat scratch thing he’d bought off Amazon. Meanwhile, Shawn placed the other three letters on the kitchen counter before stepping into the living room, away from Mitchel with the last one.

He examined it for a moment. The letter was sealed up perfectly. No holes or divots anywhere. The handwriting still looked oddly familiar, but Shawn couldn’t pin it at the moment. He also knew for a fact it wasn’t the ex in Shanghai. As close as the mailer wanted to get it, it wasn’t it. The letter felt off. There was definitely paper inside but something else too. Shawn fingered it a bit before deciding on some kind of powder.

Any reasonable person wouldn’t open this letter. Any reasonable person would probably take it to the cops first and let them handle it. However, Shawn was the most unreasonable person anyone who’d met him had ever met. And also, he had a point to prove to the SBPD and he was going to prove it.

When Shawn opened the letter a puff of powder practically exploded in his face. He coughed and tried to waft it away with his hand. Yeah, that was about what he expected. He maneuvered the letter so not to spill anymore of the powder but to get the paper out and unfold it.

“What the hell was that?” Mitchel asked as he walked towards Shawn.

“Old lady nose powder,” Shawn responded as he looked at the paper. It was blank. Completely empty save for some of the powder that had gotten stuck on it.

“Old lady- what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Shawn folded the paper back up and sealed the letter. He folded it and shoved it into his pocket before spinning to look at Mitchel with a smile. He put his hand to his head and said, “What you should worry about is the intense psychic vibe that I just got.”

“About what?” Mitchel clambered to grab at Shawn’s arm. Desperation laced his voice along with fear. “Is it about my murderer? Is he gonna strike again?”

Shawn closed his eyes to up the dramatics and hummed out. “Mmmm, yes. Yes it is! The spirits, they’re speaking to me through the old lady nose powder.”

Mitchel gave Shawn’s arm a hard shake. “What are they saying?”

Shawn opened his left eye to look at Mitchel. “For one they’re saying to get off my arm.”

Mitchel looked from Shawn to his own hands before snapping back and letting go. He mumbled out a “sorry.”

Shawn closed his eye again and continued to have his ‘vision’. “They’re saying… they’re saying… please spirits! Speak to me! You must speak louder! Ah-ha!”

“What? What is it?”

Shawn snapped open his eyes and looked at Mitchel. “The spirits are calling me to the police station. You need to drive me there immediately. All the evidence we need will be revealed to us then.”

That was all it took to have Mitchel scramble for his keys and practically drag Shawn to the car.

---

Shawn was pretty close on the mark. Whatever had really been in that letter was starting to take effect right as they were turning the corner to the police station’s parking lot. His muscles began to tighten and stiffen in unnatural ways. It was slow and unnoticeable for now. But the pain was what was really getting to him. His body felt like wet pop rocks were being thrown at him. Left to sizzle and snap against his skin.

By the time they parked, the sizzling was morphing into burning, with each intense clutch of muscle. Shawn and Mitchel quickly got out of the car and started towards the building when the muscle in Shawn’s calf clenched hard and made him drop to the asphalt.

“Shawn!” Mitchel cried and grabbed his arm to try and pull him back up. “What the hell was that?”

“The spirits,” Shawn croaked out through the pain. “They’re pretty pissed off.”

“Seems like it. Can you walk?”

“Theoretically,” Shawn responded before pulling away from Mitchel and continuing on.

Getting up the steps was way harder than it should have been. Shawn was pretty sure he was on a time limit. It was now or never.

He slammed open the doors to the precinct and gave a howl of anguish. It was only half fake as the muscle in his neck cinched up painfully and made his head throw back.

Those in the building looked at him for a moment before realizing who he was and going back to their normal work. It was kinda disheartening actually. Honestly, a guy takes the time out of his day not only to do their job but make it entertaining and all they can do is shrug it off. Shawn would feel insulted if he wasn’t probably dying. He made the mental note to be mad about it later.

He locked eyes with Juliet and Lassiter before quickly making a beeline for them. Mitchel followed close behind.

“Jules! Lassie!” Shawn called right as another spasm blasted through his side, causing him to falter in his stride as well as make a call of pain.

Juliet reached out a hand to grab Shawn’s arm and keep him upright. “Shawn are you okay?”

“He’s fine,” Lassiter grumbled with an eye roll. “Unless you count idiocy as a clinical issue.”

“I’ll have you know that my chronic dumbassery is none of your business, Detective.”

Lassiter only gave another hard roll of his eyes and turned back to his work. “Go away Spencer. We don’t have time for your antics.”

“But the spirits! They- Arugh!” Shawn was cut off by another call of pain as his arm muscle clinched hard.

“Shawn, are you hurt?” Juliet asked, clearly worried about her friend.

“He’s just looking for attention,” Lassiter hissed out, accusatorily. “And he can look for it elsewhere. We got a missing persons on our desk and an upset mother in our ear. Now is not the time for-“

“This!” Shawn called out as he pulled out the letter.

Juliet went to grab it but Shawn pulled back. “No! The spirits! They tell me it’s too dangerous! You need-“ he was cut off by another bout of pain and a grunt of anguish. His muscles felt like they were on fire. His face was burning as well. He was sure he looked just about as bad as he felt. “It’s poisoned!”

“What? Like the accidental peanuts in Collins’ take out?” Lassiter scoffed. “Please, Spencer. Stop trying to bring empty evidence to us.”

“Would you shut up and listen to me!” Shawn yelled back.

His yell surprised everyone in the room, including himself. They were now looking at him with full attention.

Shawn was about to take that to his advantage but was quickly cut off when the muscles in his legs tightened and caused them to give out under him. He fell to the ground, hard. Practically taking Juliet with him.

“It’s poisoned,” Shawn finally forced out. “The letter is poisoned. Some kinda powder.” He needed more than that. He wasn’t sure how much speaking ability was left in him. He also felt his consciousness was limited just the same. He had to think.

Shawn flipped through everything he had for this case. Everything he’d seen, everyone he’d talked to. He landed on the handwriting. It was different. It wasn’t the Shanghai ex. She wouldn’t do this to Mitchel anyways. He knew they were both still in love with each other. That was obvious by the letters themselves.

But this letter wasn’t sent by her. So then who sent it. Who was trying to kill Mitchel.

Then he got it. It flashed into his memory and it compared the two. There was a chance he was wrong but it was still better than nothing.

“Uncle Yum’s!” Shawn grunted out. It was getting harder to think through the pain. “The menu! The handwriting on this letter is the same. Check the, the menu,” that was all he could get out before finally dropping the rest of the way to the ground.

He heard the deaf calls of his name. But that was it. Then everything was gone.

---

When Shawn woke up his body felt stiff. It sucked a lot, actually. He started to shift around to try and ease the feeling. He wanted to go back to sleep. Honestly, he didn’t sleep much at Mitchel’s place and he was hoping to get some of that back.

He was pulled away from his nap even more when he heard his name being called. He opened his eyes and looked up to the person keeping him from his beauty sleep.

Gus was looking down at him, eyes full of worry and relief all at once.

Shawn looked at him for a moment as the events came back to him. “Oh my god,” he mumbled. “It’s Morgan Freeman. I really am in heaven.”

Gus frowned at that. “Really, Shawn? Jokes on your deathbed?”

“Not a deathbed if I’m not dead.”

“You damn well could’a been,” Gus hissed back. “Also I’m taking the Morgan Freeman comment as a compliment.”

“As you should,” Shawn responded as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Any man would. I just compared you to one of the smoothest voices in all the English language.”

“You know that’s right,” Gus agreed with a sharp nod. He sat back down in the chair beside Shawn’s bed. The joke had the desired effect of both proving Shawn was okay and calming Gus down out of whatever panic he’d probably been in since he arrived.

Shawn finally took a moment to examine its surroundings. He obviously was in a hospital. Which sucked. Shawn hated hospitals. He had one of those big breathing assistant masks on. Lame. He also noted the IV stabbed into his wrist. He decided everything chalked up to a good ‘fuck this’.

Shawn made quick work of pulling off the breathing assistant and wiping a hand down his face.

“Shawn,” Gus started, clearly not having any of it. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the hell outta here,” Shawn explained as he made a move for the IV.

Gus quickly reacted by grabbing his arm and holding it back. “Shawn, don’t you dare pull that out.”

The detective let out a loud groan. “Gus! I’m fine. Besides, I have a case to finish solving.”

“You are not ‘fine’, Shawn!” Gus hissed out. “You nearly died! You’ve been out for almost two days! Do you even know what you inhaled?”

“Poison. Duh.”

Gus frowned harder at that.

“Gus, please, you’re going to get wrinkles worse than my father if you keep looking at me like that.”

“You’re probably the reason he has those wrinkles.”

“You wound me.” He looked up at his partner with faux hurt, putting his free hand on his chest. “Besides, I’m pretty sure my father was born a crotchety old man.”

“This is serious, Shawn. You had strychnine poisoning.”

“What is that, like the pain medicine?”

“That’s anodyne,” Gus hissed out. “Strychnine is a poison that causes muscle spasms and paranoia. And in severe cases like yours, can be fatal.”

“Ah, but it wasn’t,” Shawn smiled up at him. “And isn’t that what we should be focused on here?”

“No, it’s not. Do you even realize you-“ Gus was cut off when he noticed Shawn’s eyes dart directly to the door. Gus turned his head to follow the line of vision and saw Lassiter standing in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Yes,” Gus started.

“No,” Shawn responded immediately after, cutting him off.

Gus sent Shawn a glare.

Lassiter looked between the two of them before signing out, “Right.” He let himself step more into the room. “Listen, Spencer, I wanted to-“

“Gus!” Shawn called out, interrupting the detective. “Go down to the kitchen and see if they have any pineapple.”

“Oh hell no,” Gus began to argue. “The second I leave you’re gonna make a break for it.”

“Lassie is right here,” Shawn said, gesturing to the other. “I doubt he’d let me scamper off any.”

Gus matched Shawn’s gaze for a moment. Almost as if a silent battle of wills was going off between them. Finally, Gus frowned and said, “Fine. But if you get out that bed before I get back or a doctor tells you to, I will kill you myself, Shawn.”

“Love you too, buddy!” Shawn called out after him as he left. Shawn watched him leave out the door and waited a moment before immediately pulling out the IV from his arm.

“Spencer!” Lassiter hissed out.

“Oh calm down, Lassie,” Shawn sighed as he got up from the bed and started to look around.

“Guster just threatened you with death and you’re still going against both him and the doctors?” Lassiter crossed his arms and gave the other an unimpressed look.

“I don’t do hospitals,” Shawn said as he finally found his clothes. “Gus should know better than to leave me alone in them. If anything, it’s his fault for believing me.”

Shawn started to strip off the hospital gown to throw his actual clothes back on.

Lassiter made a sound of surprise before looking away.

“I don’t mind if you look.”

“Yeah, well, I do. Couldn’t you have gone into the bathroom to do that?”

“Absolutely not. This way if a nurse walks in she’ll either be scared off from embarrassment or will be so enraptured by my masculine wiles that she’ll be mesmerized giving us time for our escape.”

“And if it’s a man?”

“Same 50-50,” Shawn finished buttoning his pants and looked to the other. “I’m decent, mother.”

Lassiter turned back to face him but not without a scowl on his face. “You really should stay.”

“Don’t start that. I’m trying to get out of here before Henry gets here. Now come on,” he said, starting for the door. But not before a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Shawn looked back at Lassiter. An unreadable expression on the detective's face.

“Spencer, we need to talk.”

Shawn gave a groan. He pulled his arm back and crossed them. “Fine, fine. But make it quick. I really am trying to bolt before my father or Gus find me.”

“The tip you gave us at the police station.”

Shawn’s posture became less defensive at that, now fully listening.

“You were right. We went to that dinner and got a warrant to search the worker who does the menu art on the boards.”

Shawn sat back against the bed as he listened.

“Turns out it was a man named James Cox. His fiancé apparently was an old ex of Collins’ who’d been trying to get back in touch with him recently.”

Shawn nodded in understanding. “Not wanting some guy to be an issue with his relationship he goes in to kill him and try and make it look like an accident.”

“Doesn’t stop there,” Lassiter informed. “Collins had apparently scammed the woman out of about three hundred dollars after they split ways.”

“Well. Didn’t see that one coming. Guessing Cox still isn’t very happy with Mitch.”

“Pretty much.”

There was a small pause as Shawn flicked through the information just given to him and the information he already had. Making sure each piece was accounted for. “Just in case, you might wanna keep an eye on Mitchel. Still can’t be sure if the fiancé was in on it or not.”

“I’ve got a guy on that already. Cox admitted to it all, but we’re still on the cautious side of things. O’Hara is looking into the fiancé.”

Shawn nodded. “Well!” He slapped his leg and stood back up. “Since all that's done. Guess I’ll see you-“

“Stop.”

Shawn looked at him.

“We aren’t done talking. Sit.”

Shawn sat back down with a frown.

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could have,” Lassiter hissed out. “What part of that do you not understand? Why did you open that letter? Why didn’t you just bring it to us? If you knew what was in it and who sent it-“

“I didn’t know at the time. At least not for sure.”

“Oh, I see, so you wanted to test to make sure it was actually poisoned?”

“Duh.”

“Spencer!” Lassiter shouted in surprise.

“What! You wouldn’t have believed me if I’d brought it in!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do!” Shawn leapt back to his feet, giving Lassiter an accusatory glare. “You didn’t believe Mitchel when he came to you begging for help cause someone was trying to kill him.”

“That’s because he didn’t have any kind of real evidence.”

“And what about me, huh? Why didn’t you believe me? Why don’t you ever believe me?”

“How can I? All you ever do is lie!”

Shawn wanted to argue that. But he knew even that would be a lie in itself. Instead, he said, “Every lie is built off a kernel of truth. Didn’t you learn anything from Ryan?”

“This isn’t about Ryan. This is about you. You’re not Ryan.”

“Funny that you’d say the same thing my dad did during that case,” Shawn signed out with an almost humored voice. “Especially since you’re the two people who seem to trust me the least.” He shook his head before looking back up to meet Lassiter’s eyes. “Fine. I lie. But there’s always a kernel. I’m not against you, Lassie. You don’t believe I’m psychic. But at least believe that I know what I’m doing and that I’m right.” Shawn looked around the room for a moment before realizing all his things were already in his pocket. “I always am,” he added on before making his way to the door.

Lassiter followed after him. “You’re not ‘always right’. You screw up just as much as the rest of us,” he argued. Clearly not done with this conversation like Shawn wanted him to be.

“I get there eventually. I was right about this case wasn’t I?”

“That doesn’t change the fact of what you did. And you can’t just leave, Spencer, stop!” He hissed and grabbed Shawn’s arm, stilling him right before the elevators.

Shawn gave an annoyed groan. He really wasn’t feeling up to the whole ‘cat and mouse’ shtick. “I’ll drink some charcoal when I get home, will that make you feel better?”

“Hardly.”

Shawn pulled his arm back and turned on his heel to look at the detective. “Carlton Lassiter, if I didn’t know any better I’d almost say you sound worried about me.”

Lassiter frowned at that, but didn’t give a response.

“Look, I was right. I got the guy and I survived. I’d like to call that a usual win for me and go home to get some Doritos.”

“You survived this time,” Lassiter pointed out harshly. “You keep running head first into stuff like this and there’s no telling what will happen to you. And I’ll tell you this right now, Spencer.” The detective stepped as close as he could to the other without touching. He made sure their eyes met before continuing. “I refuse to be the one who makes that call to Henry.”

Shawn’s mouth opened as if he was to respond, but he had nothing. He only looked between Lassiter’s eyes for the second they were there before the detective turned and walked off. Shawn watched him leave down the hall. Any arguments or rebuttals having completely died on his tongue.

Shawn didn’t linger for long. He really did hate hospitals and wanted to get out of there as soon as he could. When he walked out the elevator and onto the first floor, Gus was right there turning the corner.

“Shawn!” he called out, running up to him. A bowl of, most likely canned, peaches in his hand. “What the hell did I say about getting out of that bed.”

Shawn looked to him and plastered back on a faux pout. “And what about my pineapple, Gus? Those are peaches. And not even fresh ones.”

“Stop whining, Shawn. This was all they had. Are you still sick? Do you still have a fever?” Gus reached a hand up to Shawn’s forehead, only for the other to swat it away.

“How many times do I have to say ‘I’m fine’ before someone actually believes me?”

“Until you stop trying to get yourself killed,” Gus responded pointedly. He finally shoved the peaches off to Shawn who took them and, despite his complaints, did begin to eat them. “What did Lassiter want?”

“He wanted me to tell my dad about a sale at the Bass Shop going on right now,” he said as he popped a peach in his mouth and started towards the exit. “Oh and also so I could rub a healthy serving of ‘I told you so’ in his face over the Collins case. Which, I’ll spare you from if you give me a lift to my apartment.”

Gus only rolled his eyes but didn’t complain when Shawn crawled into his passenger seat.

Shawn pulled out his phone to messages from Juliet.

‘Heard you’re okay’

‘Come see me when you get a chance’

‘Lassiter too if you can’

‘He’s been really worried about you’

Shawn frowned and closed his phone. “Actually, Gus. Swing by the station for a second first.”

#psych #psych usa #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #burton gus guster #juliet o'hara #sickfic #sicktember #sicktember 2022 #fan fic #fan fiction #mywriting

31 notes · View notes