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space-helen · 3 years

Text

Back to Vegas - Chapter 6

Words: 2330

Pairing: Nick Stokes x Reader

A/N: Warning for Suicide and Violence. Low key inspired by the ending of Prisoners (2012)

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8

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Your lungs heaved as you made it into the breakout room. Standing by the door you gave Greg a smile as Nick came in behind you. The two of you had run slightly late and it was a miracle that you’d come in in time.

“Now that everyone’s here.” Greg clapped his hands together “We should get a move on. We have a Warrant for Hannah’s property and Sara and I went in there yesterday. We found some stuff that definitely connects her to the case. Grissom and Catherine started to make stronger connections with what we found and Nick and Y/N really helped look at the evidence all again objectively.” he paused “We’re pretty confident Hannah did this, we have a lead which says she’s been hiring a warehouse just outside of Vegas so we’ll be going there. Nick, Catherine and Sara you come with me to the warehouse. Grissom and Y/N hold down the fort here and start processing some more of the stuff we pulled from Hannah’s house.”

“This isn’t very like Hannah. We all should be extra careful.” Sara spoke up “She’s usually very clever in what she does but it looks like she’s gotten lazy. There has to be a reason for that.”

Greg agreed “Keep your eyes peeled. Alright, those coming with me lets go.” He was soon leaving the room and everyone on his team for the outing soon followed. Nick wrapped his arm around you for a very brief embrace as he left the room and pecked you on the forehead.

“I’d offer you a coffee but if the others are starting right now we should too.”

You smiled at Grissom “That’s fine by me. Lead the way.”

The man smirked and led you to the room he and Catherine had been working in.

The two of you began to work and it didn’t take long for Grissom to get a call. Excusing himself from the room you continued to fingerprint the case of vials found at Hannah’s place as you waited for his return.

“How do you fancy getting away from the lab for a little bit?”

“Sure.” you smiled as you stood up.

“Greg and Sara want you to do another quick sweep of the property to look for anything else, they also want you to pick up Sara’s kit because she left it there. One of them will come over to help you after the warehouse. I’ll stay here and continue processing this” he gestured at the items in front of him

You nodded and took down the address from Grissom. “I’ve printed the vials. They just need to be run through the system now.”

“Have fun.”

“I will.” you smiled as you made your way out to one of the work vehicles.

The drive wasn’t bad and actually went by quickly. You’d never been to this part of Vegas yet and it didn’t look half bad. The neighbourhood looked friendly yet sparse. Hopping out of your vehicle nothing seemed out of the ordinary, it was quiet and no one was around. The door was locked and had tape over to show that no one had entered.

You brought out your knife and cut down the tape to let yourself in. Spotting Sara’s kit you picked it up and left the door open as you returned it to the trunk of your vehicle.

Entering the house again you slowly took steps inside and felt the eeriness around you. It was deadly silent yet you felt like you could hear static and like you weren’t alone. “Hello?” you called out into the space.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket so you slipped it out to read the text, you smiled when you saw it was from Nick. ‘She wasn’t at the warehouse. Greg, Sara and Cath are going to process here and I’ll be over with you soon x’

‘How can Sara process without a kit?’ you replied quickly.

‘Sharing is caring… we had a backup one in the trunk.’

You laughed ‘See you soon. Love you x’

You put your phone away and continued to walk around the house. Placing your kit down in the living room doorway you walked through to the next room which was an open plan kitchen and dining room. It was sparse but a camera on a tripod connected to a laptop caught your eye. There were items strewn across the table including a kit similar to the one you’d just processed for fingerprints back at the lab.

Moving in front of the camera to look at the laptop screen you noticed an exact reflection of what was in front of the camera, a live feed. You turned and looked away from the laptop screen around the room. That’s when the alarm bells rung, this stuff must not have been here when Greg and Sara processed the scene otherwise it would be at the lab. Slowly reaching for your gun you felt a stabbing sensation in your neck.

The gun was knocked from your grasp across the room and you struggled against the person who’d come behind you.

“Just give in to it. Give in. You won’t be able to stand much longer. Do yourself a favour.” a woman’s voice came

You continued to struggle and managed to break yourself away briefly to see the woman’s face but it was blurry and your vision was swimming. Whatever she’d injected into you was already taking effect.

“Hannah? What did you?” you brought your hand up to your neck “Potassium?” you were feeling tired and like your tongue was heavy,

“Yes I am and no. It’s a nice little drug cocktail I mustered up when I heard you open the front door.”

You looked at your gun on the floor and tried to dive for it but that was a big mistake, your vision was spotting and Hannah kicked the gun away from your hand and stood on it, before giving you a kick to the stomach which rolled you over. “You really had to ruin my afternoon arrangements huh?”

She walked over to the table “It was supposed to be a nice little recording session to explain everything and finally end it all and be re-united with my brother. But no.” she turned around with another syringe. “You had to ruin it and take the peace away.”

You tried to crawl away on the floor and sit up to get away but she was soon back over at your side pushing you down and moving your hair out of the way. “But what’s one more casualty?” She forcefully pushed your head down to the ground, pain emitted there instantly. “Unfortunately I have nothing here that’ll kill you quickly besides the gun and that’s well that’s really not my style.”

Nick’s voice calling your name made her stop for a second. You tried your best to scream his but you had no clue what ever came out, the first dose of whatever she’d injected in your system already wreaking havoc on you.

You tried to struggle against her and push her away but it was too later, the needle had broken your skin and you could feel her injecting the concoction. She leaned down close to your ear and continued to inject the solutions as she whispered “Pitty I didn’t get to do this to anyone that actually worked on my cases before, that would have been more satisfying.”

Nick had entered the room to see her over you and saw her pulling the needle out of you and your body going limp. “Put your hands up.” he drew his gun and sent an alert out on his walkie subtly.

“I said put your hands up.”

Hannah eventually moved away from you and stood. “You don’t have long. The clock’s ticking for her already.”

“What did you inject!” he shouted.

She gestured to the table “Your guess is as good as mine, a little bit of everything.”

Nick peered at you to see your eyes fluttering open and closed as your head rolled on the ground.

“Step away.” he called to Hannah.

“I don’t think I will.” she approached the table and picked up another vial. “You know I was saving this for me but I don’t think that’d do the trick quick enough. You wouldn’t let me have the satisfaction of dying that way.”

She turned away from Nick as he took a step forward towards you as Hannah was slowly creeping away from you. Before he could really react he saw Hannah dive for something on the floor and stand upright again.

She held your gun to her head “Tell her I said thanks for the gun, but then again I might get the chance before you if she doesn’t make it.”

“No!” Nick shouted as he began to move towards Hannah for the gun. A bang had Nick freezing freezing, she’d shot herself.

Nick turned away in shock and shouted down his walkie talkie before coming to you with tears in his eyes. “Y/N.” he shook you “Y/N. Wake up please.”

He could see your eyes rolling in your head and you tried to open them. “Nicky.” you mumbled.

“Yeah Honey?”

“I love you.” it came out thickly “Remember that.” your voice sounded tired.

“I know Baby I know.” tears were threatening now “I love you too. Just stay with me ok?” We’re going to get you to the hospital.” he brought his fingers to your neck to try and feel your pulse.

He knew he’s asked for medical assistance and an emergency team but he couldn’t wait around. He knew it would be quicker to drive you. Picking you up he moved as fast as he could with you out to the car he’d arrived in, placing you across the back seats he hopped in the driver's seat and drove as fast as he could towards the nearest hospital.

“Y/N. Talk to me Sweetheart.” he begged as he drove.

“Please” he looked in the rearview mirror to try and see you but he could only see you lying still with limp arms. “Please speak to me. Please” he pleaded, tears very much collecting in his eyes. “We’re nearly there Honey. Nearly there, stay with me now. You’re going to be ok.”

He pulled up right outside the emergency room of the hospital and called for help as loud as he could while he moved you out of the back. Carrying you inside he was met by a team of people rushing towards him with a bed. He lay you down gently and kept brushing your hair out of your face and taking in your features as he rolled off what had happened to the staff.

“Please just save her.” he sobbed, the tears finally falling.

“We’ll try our best Mr Stokes but you’re going to have to wait here.” A tall nurse spoke

“You don’t understand. She means everything to me.”

“We understand. Please just sit down and call someone.” the Nurse tried to push him back from the moving bed.

Nick took your hand and placed a kiss on it as the tears streamed down his face and the team around you started prodding your skin with different needles to draw blood and inject other solutions into your system.

He entirely froze in place when he let go of your hand and it felt like his world came crashing down around him as you turned the corner and were out of his sight.

Flopping in a chair he opened his phone to see missed calls from Greg and Grissom. Pressing some buttons with no real aim he realised he was dialling Greg, bringing his cellphone to his ear he heard the man calling his name.

“Greg?”

“Nick, what the hell is going on? It does not look good over here.”

“I’m at the hospital with Y/N.”

“I guessed as much. Is everything ok? The EMT’s arrived at the same time Sara, Catherine and I did.”

“She might not make it.” Nick tried to hold back his tears but the hurt and sadness was very much still in his voice. “Hannah-” he was cut off by some tears falling and he tried to compose himself to continue to Greg “Hannah attacked Y/N and injected her with God only knows what. I couldn’t wait.”

“Alright. Alright.” Greg’s tone had softened now and was less urgent. “You keep your mind on Y/N we’ll sort this out. I think Grissom was on his way to you. Look after her ok?”

“Yeah” his voice was wobbly and he brought his hand up to his eyes “I’ll keep you updated.”

Hanging up he leant all the way forward, crossed his arms over his lap and rested his head there and let out some more sobs. The uncertainty was killing him. He couldn’t bear to lose you.

He looked up when he heard someone walking down the corridor to him. He was only now realising that he’d picked a really quiet spot to sit down.

Nick was immediately on his feet as soon as he saw who it was, his phone fell on the floor but he didn’t care. He took a couple of steps forward and opened his arms to embrace the older man who had been a father figure to him for many years.

“Pancho.” Grissom spoke sadly as he cradled Nick’s head and allowed him to cry.

“I can’t lose her.” Nick choked out.

“I know Nick, I know.” the man gently pulled away to see Nicks red eyes and tear tracks down his face. “Let's get you some water.”

Nick picked up his phone from the floor and allowed Grissom to lead the way. Grissom knew how much you meant to him and all he could do right now was be a shoulder to cry on because no one knew what the future held.

Next Chapter

Tag List: (open)

Nick Stokes: @wanniiieeee @pumpkinfriend

CSI:

#csi x reader #nick stokes x reader #csi vegas x reader #back to vegas #csi fic #csi imagine

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fireinmoonshot · 4 years

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6. “You and me, together. We’re unbeatable. We can go against all odds and come out on top.” With booker please?😊

A/N: I had several people asking for a Part 2 to THIS fic, and so here it is! I genuinely nearly cried writing this, so that was fun. And I love this prompt very much so thank you for sending it in! Enjoy! This ended up being nearly 2000 words long, somehow... so... yay!

Ever since you’d arrived at Merrick’s lab, you’d refused to talk to Booker. You’d even been quiet when Nicky or Joe had spoken to you. They’d had more important things to worry about, anyway. Like the fact that Andy wasn’t healing like she should have been.

That thought echoed through your mind just as much as Booker’s betrayal did. You still felt as though the air had been knocked out of you, and every time Booker, strapped to the chair beside you, tried to talk to you, it felt as if you were drowning more and more in that betrayal. Of all the people you’d ever expected to betray you, you’d never expected it to be him. Never expected it to be the person you’d fallen in love with.

And now you were going to lay here and he was going to have to watch you get tortured for hundreds, possibly even thousands of years. The thought wasn’t as nice a thought in terms of revenge as you wanted it to be.

You felt empty. Despite the fact that you were in a more dangerous place than you’d ever been before, you were less scared than ever. Funnily enough, Booker seemed more scared than you were considering the amount of times he tried to get your attention, to apologise. You’d allowed Joe to yell at him as much as he wanted. Hearing Joe ask him how on earth he could do this to you of all people, just made you feel more numb. Booker couldn’t answer. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to. What could he say now that would fix anything?

Then you’d heard it. Gunfire, somewhere in the distance. What was happening? Nile was gone, you’d seen her driving away. So what could be going on?

You looked over at Andy and it was clear she’d heard it, too. She met your eyes and you both looked back at the door, but the gunfire had stopped. Moments passed and your hope began to diminish, just as the door pushed open and Nile stumbled through it.

“Nile?” Booker spoke, confused. “Behind you!”

A guard had snuck up on her and fired a shot. She returned with a shot of her own and then slammed the door shut. She took out the woman who’d been employed to torture you with ease and went straight for Andy.

“There’s four shooters at the door and more coming,” she explained, beginning to free Andy from her chair. She pulled out a spare gun and held it towards her. You were surprised to see Andy turn away from it. “Andy.” Nile grabbed Andy’s hand and placed the gun into it. “Immortal or not, you made a promise. Whatever it takes. I’ve seen it, Andy. I know all the good you’ve done.”

You flinched as the door slammed open again, but you needn’t have. Andy and Nile took out all four of the shooters within a second of their entrance.

Andy moved to free herself, and then moved to unclip Nicky and Joe. Nile stepped towards Booker, and you were unable to stop yourself from scoffing as Booker stopped her by asking her to leave him.

“You should listen to him Nile,” you muttered as Andy reached you and unclipped your restraints. You sat up in your chair and swung your legs over.

Nile clearly disagreed. “No man left behind.”

“There’s always a first time. He’s nothing but a traitor. That’s–” Joe, from across the room, was just as mad as you were. Andy stopped him, but you met his eyes and gave him a grateful smile as you stepped off the bed for the first time in hours.

“Stop! This is not the time for it,” Andy started, “We don’t get a say in when it ends. We never have. But we can control how we live. And to be honest, Book, you and I, we’ve been doing a shit job of it. Now, get up. Let’s go.” She looked over at you. “I know you wanna leave him here, and I get it. But we need all hands on deck right now. We stop Merrick here and now or he never stops coming after us, and we can only do that if we work together. Betrayal or not, we work better as a team. And you two work better with each other than you do alone.”

With a sigh, Booker reached over and undid the restraints that Nile hadn’t gotten to. He stood up from his chair and walked over to join the rest of you.

“I’ve got your back,” Booker said softly, directly to you.

You looked up at him with narrowed eyes. You hadn’t wanted to see it before, but the regret in them was clear. And if Andy could forgive him – Andy, who had been shot and nearly killed by him – you could at least consider it. “Slightly regretfully, I’ve got yours.”

His lips quirked up into a small smile as Andy walked through the group of you with a “Let’s get this motherfucker.”

It meant something now that Booker had decided to fight alongside you instead of fighting against you. The team worked better when he was there. You all had your places. You all knew what to do and when to do it, and you hated to admit it but without Booker there, you had a feeling that things would have gone much worse. You felt safer with him by your side, somehow.

You were a team first and foremost. You all had each others backs. You all took down Merrick’s men with bullets, with punches, with kicks and with each other.

Booker had your back, and you had his. He’d take a bullet for you, and you would take one for him. That was the answer to your question back in Copley’s house. You’d asked him if he still loved you, and you’d cut him off before he could answer. But when he stepped in front of you to block you from a bullet that he knew wouldn’t hurt you, when he took the kill shot in your place, you knew.

Booker had never stopped loving you.

You were still by his side when he woke up, and it was you that helped him stand again. It was you that suddenly didn’t want to let go of his hand, despite how much he’d hurt you. Because you’d never stopped loving him either.

Andy, Nicky, Joe and Nile all sat inside the pub discussing what to do with Booker after his betrayal. You’d sat alongside them for several minutes before your eyes kept being drawn to Booker, stood outside and looking out over the water, drink in hand.

Wordlessly, you’d excused yourself from the table and gone out to join him. Things weren’t looking good inside, and part of you didn’t want to hear the answer.

Booker looked up as you leant on the railing beside him. It had been the first time you’d been alone with him since his betrayal. He fixed you with a tight lipped smile and then took a drink. “Come to tell me the bad news?”

“No,” you shook your head. “They haven’t made a decision yet. I don’t– I don’t want to be there when they do.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I would have thought you’d be the first one to kick me out.”

“I thought so, too,” you chuckled a little. “Guess not.”

Silence fell between you. A breeze ran over the balcony, cool from the water. You both had no idea what to say to him, and too many things to say to him.

He beat you to it.

“I should have told you,” he said quietly, staring out over the water. “I should have told you about everything.”

“You shouldn’t have betrayed us in the first place.”

“I know. I knew that the second I decided to do it. I knew that the second I saw the way you looked at me in Copley’s house. I’ve– I’ve only ever seen love in your eyes. And that look?” Booker shook his head. “That was the moment I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. That look in your eyes. I– that look was what broke me.”

You knew, then, why he was refusing to look at you. He worried he’d see that same look in your eyes now.

“Why’d you do it, Book? I know what you said in Copley’s house but… why? Was I not enough for you?”

Booker immediately shook his head. “Were you– no, God, no. You were more than enough. You are. I just… haven’t you ever just wanted to live? To just exist for the time you’re meant to exist for. To have your allotted time on earth and not go any further?”

“Of course I have, Book. But–”

“I wanted – I want – to live with you. To have a normal life with you without worrying about the next thousand years. To not have to worry about you dying out of the blue on me. To have that the time we’d have left together confirmed by age or life or illness. That was why I did it. Because I didn’t want to lose you. But I did that anyway. By doing all of this, I lost you anyway. And I’ll come to terms with that eventually.” He shrugged a shoulder and then took another drink. “I will come to terms with the fact that you hate me.”

Tears had sprung to your eyes while he spoke, and you tried to frantically blink them away. He had no reason to think that you didn’t hate him. And you wanted to hate him. God… you wanted to hate him. But every time you thought about him now all you could see was how he’d thrown himself in front of you in Merrick’s lab. How he’d taken that bullet for you. How he’d died so you wouldn’t.

You sniffed, and Booker looked at you.

“You– shit, I’m sorry–” He winced upon seeing your tears. “I don’t– I don’t have a tissue. Let me go and get–”

You reached out an arm and stopped him. Confusion was clear in his eyes as he looked down at you, but you knew it wasn’t hate he saw in your eyes. He had no reason to be fearful of that.

“I don’t hate you, Booker,” you said softly. “I wish I hated you. That would make things so much easier. But somehow I still love you. I mean – how could I ever hate someone who’d die to save me? That’d– that’d be bizarre.”

“You… still love me?” His voice was quiet.

“Whatever they decide in there,” you nodded towards the window where the other four were sat. “I’m with you. Whether they decide to send you away, whether they just forgive and forget. I’m with you. You and me, together. We’re unbeatable. We always have been. We can go against all odds and come out on top. I truly believe that.”

Booker looked as though he was on the edge of tears.

Before you lost your nerve, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you back without hesitation, holding you close to his chest. His lips pressed against the top of your head.

“I never meant to hurt you. You need to know that.”

“I know, Book. I know.”

“And I still love you. I think you know that. But I want you to hear me say that I love you. I never want you to doubt it again,” he spoke. “Like you said… this is the hand that life’s dealt me. And I don’t want to take it for granted. Not for one more second.”

#Anonymous #booker #booker x you #sebastien le livre #sebastien le livre x you #sebastian le livre x you #the old guard #the old guard x reader #the old guard x you #booker x reader

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years

Text

3/50 Wordless Ways to Say I Love You

“Traveling long distances just to see them”

Booker/Sebastien La Livre x reader

Word Count: 709

The downside of living forever, you’d learned, was the cabin fever that took hold whenever you tried to stay in one place for too long. Well, that was the biggest downside for you, anyway. You were a child of the American Old West in that way. Too many nights sleeping next to your horse under the stars on the way to your next adventure, you supposed.

Unfortunately, that meant that you just weren’t built to linger anywhere. Your fellow immortals seemed to understand your wandering habits, though, and paired those habits nicely with their own. You all came together and drifted apart as often as the tides changed. The only two that stayed together were Joe and Nicky because they simply couldn’t bear the thought of being separated. Ever since the death(?) of her friend--lover, everyone knew, even if she never confirmed it) Andy refused to be pinned down, choosing to wander from place to place rather than getting attached to anyone.

Booker, though, was a bit of a different story. He obviously would have preferred to stay by your side, but he understood your need for space at times.

Hilariously, it’d been him, Sebastien Le Livre, that’d been the one to kill you that first time. A shootout gone awry down in New Orleans the first time you’d ever ventured that far away from your usual stomping grounds of the open plains as an outlaw. Needless to say, he’d been just as gobsmacked as you when one moment, he was holding your corpse and apologizing profusely for his carelessness getting (what he thought) was an innocent killed, and the next you were gasping for air in the horrible transition from mortal to immortal.

Oddly, you’d bonded quite quickly after that.

Both of you hesitated to say it, but you’d even fallen into something akin to love. You’d spent countless long nights next to a campfire outside of whatever town was nearest just talking while waiting for the other immortals--his friends--to arrive to meet you. It wasn’t every day someone simply refused to die, after all.

For a while after that, the two of you were almost as inseparable as Nicky and Joe.

Then one night you mentioned that you felt suffocated, sleeping in the same city every night. You wanted to explore with just a horse and what you could carry again. Cause some mischief for local law enforcement and have some fun.

He said he’d felt it coming. Something about the way you’d kept staring longingly at the stars, he claimed.

Your response was a teasing jab about him being a romantic because he was French.

Booker only rolled his eyes and grabbed a wrapped parcel from under his side of the bed. A gift, he claimed, so you wouldn’t forget about him.

Over a hundred years later, you still had that handsome leather bag strapped to your back as you climbed the steps of the hotel that’d been there since your first death. The same steps you’d died on that first time. The building had been remodeled to the point of being unrecognizable, but it was still there all the same. Just like you.

“Reservation for Le Livre,” you told the clerk at the front desk.

“Sorry, Miss, that room has already been checked out,” a familiarly-accented voice saide beside you.

Grinning, you turned to look at the man that you still loved dearly despite your time apart. “Sebastien!”

In a moment, you were scooped up into a tight hug. “I have missed you, mon cher,” he breathed next to your ear.

When you leaned back, you were still smiling at him. “Well, I didn’t come all this way just to hug in the lobby. I believe you owe me dinner, Frenchy.”

“Why do I have to pay?” he asked in mock-offense. “It’s the twenty-first century; the man doesn’t have to pay every time.”

“It’s your turn, because I paid back in ‘64. Remember? Paris?”

“We’ve been together since then! And I paid then, too!”

“Shh,” you pressed a finger to his lips. “You’re too cute to worry about that sort of thing.”

“What?!” He was laughing in that way that lit up his entire face.

“Don’t worry about it! Just get us some food, mister!”

#50 ways #reader insert #booker x reader #booker imagine #sebastien le livre x reader #sebastien le livre imagine #old guard imagine

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pocketsedition · 4 years

Text

aftg TV show

I know there's the one of Neil's actor not knowing shit but just bear w me

I want the actors to have like... the accurate heights... pls... no 5'6" playing the twinyards thanks

okay but imagine a clip on the red carpet at like the Oscars or something I dunno and there's one of the taller ones like Matt or Kevin holding the smol ones over their shoulders

"And here's [Kevin] carrying [Andrew] and [Neil]"

and then Aaron's actor is just trailing behind because these fucking idiots are going to kill themselves one day istg-

but it shows how close the cast is it's so sweet

I want trans actors like idc who but that'd just be sweet and it'd be good rep

the twins who play Aaron and Andrew being actually close irl there's so clips of them just vibing it's amazing

phelps twins vibes

i will sue someone if Noah Centipede gets cast as Kevin or someone so help me that won't end well

now more on the individual children

Neilz actor gets along great with the cast and the fans we love him

he's still a fucking idiot though

he and the actor who plays Andrew have so many crack videos and bloopers though

especially when Andrew has to like... hold a knife up to Neil's neck he just breaks down laughing

takes a solid hour to film a two minute clip

just can't help it smh

the actor who plays Andrew does an amazing job with Andrews character and portrays him PERFECTLY and everyone just falls back in love with him

but the actor is the complete opposite

he is a fluff ball he is a bean he cuddles with anyone and everyone

there's a video somewhere of him hugging a refrigerator

I feel like Andrews actor would sneak food onto the set tuough

like its an exy game scene and the cameras focused on Neil's actor but if you pay attention in the background Andrews actor is just sitting there holding a gallon size Ziploc bag of pretzels and just. eating them.

or it's a scene on the roof and Andrew and Neils actor are like "I'm not a hallucination" "you're a pipe dream" and it's supposed to be serious but Andrews actor just takes out a whole fucking tub of a ice cream

and a spoon or two

and just eats

Kevin's actor is more reserved just how he vibes but he loves them all the same

he's also a crackhead but on tv he's just :)

there's a clip of him beating everyone else up with pillows after someone stole his loom bracelets

I dunno what you're talking abt he doesn't collect rainbow loom

there's also a video of him putting all his rainbow loom on or trying to

it goes all the way up to his shoulders and there's still more left

Kevin's actor also has the prettiest autograph

that's not relevant but it is

but what IF Nicky was actually played by a gay actor like IMAGINE

and him and Erik's actor are actually together like they auditioned together like WHAT IF

this motherfucker also records everything no debate

he posts all the drunk cast videos and anonymously posts them

but everyone knows it's him

there are videos out there of him and they're the best

he knows it and he bathes in it coz he knows they're amazingg

actress who plays Renee is probably the most calm but only on tv

she's close with everyone and is the emotional support team member

and she definitely wears suits to red carpets

the actress who plays Allison definitely once made everyone take place in one of those eating competitions and she definitely won

everyone's watching her like :O

dans actress is also a fucking chaos bean but when the others need to stop she tries knows how to get them under control

all the boys have the undying love for the girls and hang onto their every word

if they tell you to murder someone, you'll do it

the actors who play Aaron and seth are fucking ICONS they may be more minor character but everyone still loves them

rip Seth btw

they do interviews together a lot of the time and they make fun of everyone else even though they often join the chaos as if they didn't start it but shh

the actor who plays Aaron is a bit shy but he loves the fans

they're all so beautiful I'm fine I promise

Seth is a crackhead

his character may be an asshole most of the time but everyone was sad to see the actor go

he definitely comes back to set to say hi to everyone he's so sweet

Matt's actor definitely cries when other people win awards

like those are his children up there those are his fucking children

and when he wins one he just radiates happy vibes

there's a clip of him handing everyone coffee at like 5am when they have to get up early and everyone's exhausted

Wymacks actor is definitely still the dad for sure

everyone loves him

he may not pull as much stupid shit the rest do but he fucking loves them

first sight he just adopted them

he's also like a producer of the movie or something that's random but it's true

part 2

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #twinyards #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #nathaniel wesninski #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #seth gordon #aftg shitpost

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/81198748

Chapter 73

Arthur had no chance to see who attacked him. Also, he was much too concerned with his own feelings to take notice of his surroundings. Just cut and run, he had thought. And smile along, always smile. And then, one moment after the other, he felt a stinging pain in his left upper arm. He turned around, but slower than he had attended. His body didn't obey him. Then the world continued to turn around him. Shortly, he panicked. Did he blow his cover? Finally, he felt how his strength left him, sinking down on the street. A blink of an eye later he passed out.

When Arthur awoke, he stared at the wide cloudy sky above him. Dawn was breaking, and he found out that he couldn't move. Startled, he began to tear at his fetters, but it was in vain. He was left to look at them in disbelief. Someone had done a competent job. Arthur stretched himself as good as he could, regretting that this guy didn't have the decency to give him a mattress before tying him onto a rock. Even though he was joking about it in his head, he didn't feel like laughing.

Once again, he had risked everything he had been fighting for in the last few weeks, and this time he was sure he'd pay for it. Often enough he had gotten away with it, but this time he had a very bad feeling. He recognised that he was in the Garden District and somebody had decorated his rock with lit up candles. Reasons enough to abandon all hope. He had seen multiple cultists in this district, with rituals that made him sick at the mere thought. What god would he be sacrificed for, he asked himself without being interested in the answer. Arthur hoped they'd choke on it. That'd be funny for once, he thought giggling hysterically. “I'm sorry, Percy...”, he whispered. “I fucked up.”

“Ah, Mr. Hastings, I hope you've been sleeping well?”, suddenly an amused voice asked. At least one of us has fun, Arthur stated to himself. He nearly twisted his neck to look around. The sight made him wince. “Nick?” His voice was a terrified rasp. The other man leaned against a rock, watching him with glowing red eyes. Arthur saw surprise and curiosity in his expression. He would've almost called it innocent, if there hadn't been these concerning circumstances. “No, but well-nigh”, the stranger said quietly. “It's interesting that you see our connection.” “Well, I'm afraid one of you is a copycat.” “You will understand soon”, the other man assured him. “Oh, Mr. Hastings, I'm sorry I have to do this to you, but you've been indeed very, very unwise. Downers don't belong in this town, you should know that.” “I'll keep that in mind, thanks”, Arthur said with sarcasm, “Now if you'd kindly untie me, I'll take the next train right to the mainland.” The stranger laughed. “You're charming, really. But I'm afraid it's too late for that. You had your chance, you know? You were gone already, but then you came back. You just can't say goodbye and I understand, it's such a jolly place, isn't it?” His grin caused a cold shiver run down Arthur's spine. “What do you mean? I never left the town. I wanted, but sadly my train got delayed.” That seemed to entertain the other man even more. “You know, I understand you. Truly, I do. And you know what? I make you a present. I give you one last date with the love of your life. How's that?” He didn't sound sentimental saying that. If he cared at all about Arthur's feelings, he didn't show it.

“Where is he? What have you done to him?” Arthur once more tore at his fetters. The other man watched his efforts without concern. “He's alright and I advise you to not chance that, otherwise I might change my mind and take care of you myself.” Arthur didn't understand. “What do you want from us?” The man eyed him. “Only you, Mr. Hastings. Only you.” Arthur was now certain that he dealt with a lunatic. “Foggy Jack.” It was worth trying. “You are Foggy Jack.” "I have many names...", the stranger said quietly. "People have to give things a name. Downers, Skippers, Wastrels...everything they don't understand. I'm just a man, Mr. Hastings. And so are you." He eyed Arthur and perhaps even looked sympathetic. Arthur sniffed a chance. "Then we can get along! We don't have to do this!" Foggy Jack gave him a pitiful look. "I'm sorry, but there's no way around this. Tell yourself it was worth it...that's your only option..." He raised his eyes to the horizon. His expression became sentimental this time.

"What have I ever done to you?”, Arthur desperately shouted at him. “I never stood in your way! As you said, we're both outlaws here, we're equal..." Foggy Jack broke out in laughter. "Do you think I'm a Downer?" Arthur snorted. "Of course, no one off Joy would be so insane!" The man didn't look offended. "That's fair", he said quietly. "Seems like in this town the winner is who's most insane." "And Nick?”, Arthur brought it up again. “What did he do to deserve this?" His mind began to create a full picture. The murders...the mauled corpse of Kitty Bates...Virgil's blood... He suddenly felt cold. The man smiled. "He's an eccentric individual, my Nicky...He deserves the world." "Then leave him alone!", Arthur shouted again. "As I said, you will understand", the stranger said with emphasis. "Now, it was nice chatting with you, but I'm afraid we've come to the end of our time." The way he said it made Arthur's stomach turn. Was that...could that be...?

Foggy Jack got up from the rock and busied himself with gagging Arthur. Arthur in turn tried his best to bite the other man's fingers, but to no avail. His attacker was too careful and probably experienced to be fooled like that. When the work was done, Arthur fought down another panic attack. He was glad that the crazy killer at least cared enough not to choke him. Then uncomfortable silence ensued. Jack spend the silence looking at a point in the distance, something he awaited eagerly. Arthur sucked in the air when he saw another man approach, dressed in a black suit and with an eerie shimmer on his face.

“James, you wanted to see me?”, Nick asked a bit out of breath. He had hurried to come here after finding the message in his dressing room behind the stage. Jack cupped his face with his hands and looked him deeply into the eyes. He liked the glow they had. “Nick, what happens now is very important, do you hear me?” “Okay?” Nick didn't quite understand. “Did you take your Joy?” “Yes.” “Not too much?” Nick shook his head. “One.” Jack smiled. “Very good. Do you remember the gift you once made me?” “Gift...” Nick blinked. The memories...they were foggy. Then he touched his chest. “Yeah...” Jack nodded. “Now I'll give you something just as precious.” “Another gift?” Nick furrowed his brows. “Something even more precious than my last one”, Jack described to him, giving him a meaningful look. “Something you lost...” Jack turned around and gestured Nick to follow him. Nick saw the light that flickered around the rock and he also saw that someone was lying on it. Curiously, he came closer, reaching out for the seemingly lifeless body. When he noticed that the chest was still moving, he winced and stopped. His hand remained in the air, doubting, his eyes searched for the face of the stranger. Suddenly he looked into brown eyes, his expression just as startled as the other man's was.

“Arthur?”, Nick whispered. Looking back at his mentor, he saw the man return his gaze with an approving nod. "The man who broke your heart, right here. We thought he'll leave the town...He said he had so many important things to do...but all the time he was here, just not at your side..." Arthur's throat made a sound. He didn't recognize himself if he had been shouting or sobbing, but the gag obliterated the difference anyway. What remained was an opaque, doleful sound that made Nick wince again. "Oh, dear, is he begging for your love now?", Jack sneered. "Should we let him explain why you weren't good enough for him? Why he wanted to live a better life than the one at your side? Should we allow him to stab another blade into your heart? Nick, look at me." Nick who wasn't able to tear his gaze away from Arthur finally obeyed. "Don't make the same mistake again! You lost so much to him and he doesn't care!" Another muffled sound came from Arthur. Jack gave him an annoyed glance. "You did everything to gain his heart but he took it from you! Today I'm giving you the chance to get back what's yours! His heart will be with you forever! We'll keep it next to mine, so we can always remind ourselves to never give our heart away again...."

Nick looked back at Arthur who didn't like how the other man eyed his chest, as if he was looking for a certain spot. He also didn't like the glow in Nick's eyes. It could be the candles that gave his eyes an orange shimmer, but combined with the outfit it created a picture that made Arthur gasp in despair. Why did he never notice? How long had Nick been under Foggy Jack's influence? And was he really innocent?

“Did you bring it?”, Jack asked when Nick was finished observing his new gift. Arthur noticed how he kept Nick from thinking for himself, how Nick looked up to him, asking for his advice. The rockstar acted slowly, as if he was controlled, but not clumsily. If anything, he didn't make any superfluous movements. He was probably very focused. So, perhaps not high. Still, Nick was clearly not himself and Arthur hated to watch how Nick obeyed to Jack, fetching something out of his pocket. It shortly flashed, making Arthur blink. Then he felt hot and cold at the same time, because Nick held a little knife in his hands and looked up to Jack who gave him another approving nod. Jack put a hand on Nick's shoulder and gently pushed him to the improvised altar. Arthur cramped and tugged at the fetters again.

Nick seemed to ignore Arthur's desperate calls. He also avoided his eyes, rather stared at the uncomfortable spot on his chest. The knife came closer until it was only millimetres away from his shivering body, as if Nick would take measurements. Arthur closed his eyes. Then he felt Nick's hands on him and opened wide to look at the man. Nick still didn't return the gaze. He simply opened the buttons on Arthur's jacket, one after the other. Arthur almost laughed. One last date with his lover! How he had missed that! If only he could convince Jack to leave them alone for a bit. Arthur winded, blinking away tears. Soon, Nick had removed the annoying cloth and his fingers ran over Arthur's skin. Then he let his hand lay on his chest. He certainly felt his heartbeat, Arthur thought. By now he had lost his strength to scream. Nick positioned the knife again. Suddenly, he looked him in the eyes and Arthur stared back. Like this, they remained for an unexpected long while. Nick seemed to feel doubt, his look became fearful.

He turned back to his mentor. “I can't...”, he whispered. “Yes, you can”, Jack answered. His voice was full of confidence. Arthur was afraid that even he would kill for such a voice. But Nick shook his head. “I have never...” “Yes, you did”, Jack said, “and you left your work for everyone to see.” Arthur cramped. Nick froze and looked at Jack, less horrified than confused. “Do you remember where you left him?” Nick seemed to brood over it. He looked at his hands, than back at his mentor. “Virgil...”, he whispered. “You held him in your arms”, Jack explained as if it was the most beautiful thing he ever did. “And all people found him like that, in your arms. It was so touching.” “I...I...” Nick sobbed. “You showed him your love. He betrayed you, he payed for it and you forgave him.” He pointed towards Arthur. “Now it's time to forgive him, am I right?” Nick shivered. “It's fine, Nick. I'm here. There's nothing to be afraid of. Once you have his heart, you'll feel the warmth of it in your hands. Arthur won't leave you again. We'll keep him and you can always come back to him.” Nick hung at his every word. “And the body, well, I'm sure you'll find a good spot to honour him.” Nick's gaze wandered along the wide meadows, stopping by the red glowing Nonsuches. “See, it's all there in your head”, Jack concluded.

Nick ran a hand though his hair, then turned back to Arthur. Arthur made another noise, this time it was merely a whimper. He could see his own chest raising and falling. He also felt how his skin touched the cold blade of the knife. Finally, Nick tightened his grip and lifted it up. Arthur froze and pressed his eyes shut.

He felt a tug at his wrists and suddenly, he was free. For a short moment he was baffled, but he used his luck to attack. Nick had covered him good enough so that Jack didn't notice what happened until the Downer had already jumped at him. Arthur had no strategy for this, only pure violence. He dragged Foggy Jack to the ground, held him down with his knees and pressed his upper arm against the killer's throat. He was afraid he couldn't keep him under control like this forever. “Nick, help me!”, he shouted. Where was he? Did he run away?

Nick watched the scene that unfolded, paralysed. It had felt right to free Arthur. He didn't have the heart... Did he really do it already? He had felt nothing but fear at the thought. And the smell of blood had occupied his mind. He didn't like that smell. But now James was in danger and he couldn't let that happen.

Nick set himself into motion and grabbed Arthur to pull him away. “Let go of him!”, he rasped. He managed to tear Arthur away from James. The man jumped back at his feet and shoved Nick off. “You're just as crazy as him!”, he screamed into the eerie, glowing eyes. He barely noticed the sadness in them. “Arthur...?”, Nick said quietly. “Leave me alone!”, the other man continued to scream, slapping his hand away. Arthur panicked. Jack was about to recover and moved to get up. Nick scared him too, and so he turned away from him and fled as fast as he could, off this awful place. “Arthur!”, Nick shouted after him. “Arthur, wait, I'm not like him! I...!” But Arthur vanished in the darkness and Nick couldn't sense him. He could be everywhere. Also, Nick's tiny bit of courage was already used up. He was paralysed again, unsure if he even wanted to flee. He watched James getting back on his feet and fear spread in his body. He knew he had made a horrible mistake.

“James, I couldn't...”, he whimpered. Jack massaged his throat. “You couldn't...”, he repeated, and his voice had lost it's approving sound. “I told you how much he means to me! You should've known! You...!” “You blame this on me?”, Jack snarled. “After everything I've done for you, you embarrass me like that? Don't you listen to me?” Nick sobbed. “You took Morrie away from me! And Virgil! And now Arthur!...How could you?” Jack glared at him. “You're right. I was so blind. You're not like me and you never will be! I can't believe I wasted so much time on you! Stupid, sentimental me! But now, now you've come to the end of your time!” “No!” Nick overcame his shock and ran away, down the same slope that Arthur had taken, the same that Nick had climbed up full of anticipation a few moments ago.

“You can't hide from me, Nicky, I can sense you!”, Jack yelled after him and Nick knew he was right. They were connected. For some time past they were able to feel each other out. They couldn't exist without each other. It made it more painful to be hunted by him. Nick felt like a part of him was ripped out of his body. He still continued to run, down the slope and into the wide field, where Nonsuches faintly lit up the road and clouds of think fog covered the grass here and there. Neither the fog nor the high grass could hide him. Eventually exhausted, he crouched under a rock that was big enough to cover him. It at least made him feel safer. Gasping for air, he noticed he still held the scalpel in his hands. His fingers curled tightly around it. It was his only chance. He felt James come closer and waited, shivering, fighting the urge to flee. It would be no use. James wouldn't stop.

Soon, he heard his footsteps. The grass was quietly rustling. Someone else would've failed to hear it, but the Joy had sharpened Nick's senses. He froze when James came to a halt right at the other side of the rock. Then Nick heard nothing but his own quick breath. “Are you waiting for me, Nicky?”, Jack whispered. “Do you want to fight? Oh, I've been looking forward to see you fight! You learned so much, you know? But it was no use...” Nick didn't want to fight. His only chance was one fast stroke, so he sneaked around the rock while Jack was still talking to him. He found his mentor turning his back on him. When Nick lifted up his hand, however, he turned around. His expression was mocking and Nick himself felt ridiculous. He was still too far away to attack him and ended up standing there like an odd living monument.

“You still have my gift”, Jack noticed. “Do you want to kill me with it, Nicky? Can you do it?” He came closer while he spoke, eyes fixed on Nick's. Nick trembled more. He had to do it now. Now! But what chance did he have? And it was James...His helper, his friend, his manager...This could only be a nightmare. Jack grabbed his arm, shattering all chances. “No, you can't”, he concluded. “I knew it! You just can't do it! There's no use in teaching you!” With the other hand he took the scalpel away from him. “You don't deserve this!” Nick's eyes welled up. “I told you...”, he whispered. “This always happens to me. I disappoint everyone who loves me. I chase them away. It was naïve of me to think it would be different with us...” He sobbed. “I loved you! And I'm sorry that I'm not good enough for you!” Jack lifted his eyebrow. “Please, could you do me a last favour?”, Nick went on. “Just one moment, please, pretend this didn't happen. Let me believe I didn't lose you too. Tell me it's gonna be okay.” He widened his arms. “Please, hug me one last time.” Jack looked actually blindsided. Nick's behaviour confused him and it made him wonder if he wronged him... If he wanted a hug, he could get it, right? What of it! Slowly, he opened his arms. Nick gave him a questioning look first, then he dashed into the embrace. Jack curled his fingers into Nick's hair. It felt good to be so close to him. It was the last thought he had before he lost consciousness.

Nick pulled the syringe out of James' neck and gently lowered the limp body into the grass. He positioned the knife and made his first cut with shaking hands. He would show him his love, honour him and make him a monument. He'd keep his heart forever. Warm blood covered his fingers. The beating of his heart was so disturbing. Nick wasn't used to this. He wondered how long his heart would keep on.

“Hey, what are you about?”, someone yelled at him. Nick jumped. His senses had been focused only on James. He looked up to a man. A very tall man in a blue uniform. Immediately, he pulled out the scalpel. His hands were full of blood and his eyes full of guilt. “It's Foggy Jack!”, the Bobby howled. “I got him! Don't let him get away!” Nick ran away head over heels, but it had become darker. All he saw was blackness and the many furious voices of his pursuers came closer.

#we happy few #arthur hastings we happy few #whf #wehappyfew #whf arthur #whfarthurhastings #nick lightbearer #nicklightbearer #whfnick #whfnicklightbearer #whfarthur #foggy jack #whf foggy jack #foggyjack #fanfiction

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

incarnate (p3)

Hheeere uuu goooooooo (OooOoooooOOooOOoOooO) - p2

Andrew rocked up to the weekly gathering, basically in his pyjamas. Neither him nor Kevin were early risers, but Kevin had the gall to actually come to these things appropriately dressed.

Andrew had just chucked a sweater over his t-shirt, tucked his pyjama pants into boots, yanked a beanie over his head and shuffled into his overcoat. Erik and Nicky - who lived in the second bedroom of their apartment - didn’t look much more presentable than he did, slomping around like zombies until they’d knocked back some coffee.

Why Wymack and Dan held these gatherings at sunrise was beyond Andrew. He hated every single fucking time the little fox dropped off the acorn message at their door. How the fox even managed to get inside the building without triggering security was a wonder in itself. Andrew couldn’t wait to move out into a house.

They’d all crammed into the car, revved up the engine way too loud for almost five in the morning, and cruised till they arrived to the edge of town.

They all trudged through the forest till they’d arrived at the clearing where Palmetto held all their most powerful rituals and flamboyant gatherings. It also happened to be where Andrew had summoned the demon - Neil - maybe two weeks ago.

He still had no idea what he wanted from the thing. He didn’t want anything, really. He’d never wanted anything.

Andrew lit a cigarette when they arrived to the clearing, waiting for the others to show up. Renee, Dan and Allison were already there: Renee, smiling like an angel, Allison, looking like a god-send and Dan acting like she owned the place, formally greeting the others upon their arrival.

Renee sidled up to Andrew, nudging their shoulders. “Something’s changed about your aura. Something lighter.”

Odd. He would have thought a demon summoning would’ve put a blemish on his soul, or whatever bullshit Renee actually bought into. He just shrugged.

“The whole place seems a little different, really.” Renee said. “Like its recovering from something big. You wouldn’t have been here recently, would you?”

“Everyone hangs around here.” He said flatly. “We’re a bunch of witches and this is the coven’s gathering circle.”

“Of course.” Renee said easily. “It could have been any one of us. It’s definitely not Kevin, though. He looks far too guilty.”

Andrew’s gaze travelled across to where Kevin was mulling about the exact spot Neil had appeared the first time. Andrew muttered angrily under his breath and stalked over, dragging Kevin by the arm.

“Hey!” Kevin complained. “I was just checking -”

“Shut it.” Andrew hissed. “Fuck this up and I’ll tell everyone exactly who hexed the coven in an attempt to get rid of his tattoo and ended up giving everyone shitty tramp stamps. We clear?”

Kevin gulped. “Crystal.”

The recognisable footsteps of Wymack were heard by everyone: They all stood to the clearing’s edge as he arrived, flanked by Abby and Bee. Bee smiled at Andrew warmly and tapped her wrist ( “Talk later?” ). Andrew rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Boyd and the neophyte will get here soon.” Wymack said gruffly, brushing himself off. A twig was still stuck out of his hair and Abby plucked it out fondly. “Yes, that’s why I’ve called you all here. We’re initiating a witch into the Palmetto coven this morning.”

Two sets of footsteps neared the clearing. One set familiar - heavy and rhythmic, like Boyd’s heart rate - and the other flighty and nervous. As they appeared, Andrew’s heart bottomed out into his stomach.

“Neil Josten.” Wymack gestured for him to step forward. “Welcome to the Palmetto coven.”

Neil nodded gently, eyes scouring the circle that greeted him. He looked human - the scars on his face and arms were gone, and his eyes were a normal (still devilishly gorgeous) shape and shade of blue. When his eyes flit to Andrew and Kevin, he had to stifle the hints of a grin.

“Step into the centre: everyone else, join hands.” Wymack instructed. Andrew hated this part of the initiation, twisting his fingers with Renee’s and Kevin’s. Everyone’s energy flowed freely between them. He could feel the valliant leadership from Dan, Allison’s lures and illusions, Bee’s soothing calm, Abby’s healing tisanes, clarity and forgiveness from Renee, strength and loyalty from Matt, Kevin’s logic and perfection, Nicky’s boisterousness and sunshine and Erik’s curiosity and perseverance.

When Neil bowed his head, they all took a startled step back. Of course it’d be something unlike any of them had ever witnessed: Neil was a creature of pure magic. Not like humans, who were poor conductors at best. His power glossed over Andrew’s skin like gold dust and he opened his eyes.

Neil’s glamours had held up, but they wouldn’t be good enough for Renee and Bee. Regardless, they both smiled and went to Neil to welcome him alongside the rest of the coven. He looked lost and somewhat uncomfortable with all their friendly introductions, looking frantically from witch to witch.

Andrew kept back: Kevin did too. Wymack glanced to them only once, shaking his head.

“He’s so strong.” Kevin murmured. “He could - Andrew, he could teach us stuff! Will you ask him to?”

“Like I’m going to waste my one wish on your needless pursuits for knowledge.” Andrew muttered, letting his head fall to one side. Even Kevin’s rattling couldn’t distract him from the way Neil’s eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, the way the tip of his nose curved perfectly to his lips.

Andrew would never ask for that. There was no consent in magically inclined bindings. But so long as he could appreciate from afar, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Oh, how Andrew hadn’t had a clue.

three moon cycles later

“It’s the fall equinox, it’s the fall equinox!” Neil crowed, sitting on Andrew’s dresser with his ankles crossed and rapping against the wooden surface with his knuckles. “Wake up, morons. Is that an appropriate insult? I’m still not very good with insults. Although I have decided that you humans are rather feeble: Almost pathetic. So maybe dweebs is a better term?”

Andrew blinked awake blearily, not realising he’d set a hyper-active demon to go off at six o’clock in the morning rather than his usual Kevin-Day-Getting-Bored-And-Wanting-To-Research-Or-Practise alarm.

“How’d you get in here?” Kevin said, waving his hands around in a futile effort to block the rays of sun that peered through the window: Neil, the little bastard, had opened the curtains. “Andrew, didn’t we set up protective wards?”

“Neil’s a part of the coven.” Andrew muttered. “He can bypass them. He’s been bypassing them for two and a half months now.”

“Who decided it’d be a good idea to bring a demon into the coven?”

“Matt’s.”

“To be fair, he still doesn’t know.” Neil chirped. “And I’m right here: I can hear everything you two are say. And some things you aren’t saying.”

Kevin sat up, shirtless and still half asleep. “What, you can read minds now?”

“I’ve always been able to read everyone’s intentions and emotions.” Neil corrected him. “It’s rather necessary for one’s survival. I’d teach you how to block it, but that wouldn’t be any fun.”

“You’re the worst.” Kevin groused, stumbling to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom.

Andrew finally sat up and checked his arm-bands were there, pulling a hoodie that’d been stuffed between his bed and the wall over his head. Neil watched him with his head cocked to the side. Andrew didn’t care. It’d been three months of having a pet demon and Andrew really couldn’t care less about the five-foot-three nuisance.

“I lied before.” Neil said, softly. He was still sitting atop of Andrew’s dresser, effectively blocking Andrew from grabbing a clean pair of boxers. “I can read everyone’s intentions and emotions - except yours.”

“Now that’s some Twilight bullshit.” Andrew grunted, checking over his plants with careful fingertips. “Do you glitter in the sun, too?”

“I hate it when you make pop-culture references.” He complained. “I never understand them.”

“Forget it. Why can’t you read me?”

He shrugged. “Most demons back home are very good at concealing themselves, but humans have never been. Renee is also practised, as is Bee, but your soul is far more intricately protected.”

Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. “It needs to be.”

“Right.” Neil said, unconvinced. “I just hope you’re not constricting yourself in the process.”

Andrew flipped him off.

“What? I’m just making observations.”

“Well, make your observations elsewhere. I need to get to my drawers.”

Neil, in a rare moment of complacency, did as he was told. He sat on the edge of Andrew’s bed instead and leaned forward. “Have you thought about what you want from me?”

Andrew ignored him.

“Because it’s the fall equinox, and I can draw a lot of power tonight. I should use it to escape.” Neil admitted.

Andrew slowly turned. “What?”

Neil looked up at him from under his curly fringe. He’d let loose his glamour again - fuck, those eyes got Andrew every damned time - and he hadn’t really cut his hair for however long he’d been here. It was getting ridiculously long. Andrew wanted to run his fingers through it.

“I can’t stay.” He said. “My father will find me. He’ll break into this realm somehow and ruin everything. I have to leave before he does.”

“Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere.”

Neil looked back down at his hands. They shook slightly: He balled them in his trousers, a pair ratty pair of jeans. Andrew crouched in front of him.

“Neil,” He said. “I have the journal. I have you. If he wants to cause trouble, I’ll send him to Hell��s ninth fucking circle, got it? You’re staying.”

“But -” He tried.

“No.” Andrew reached out to pinch his lips shut. “Quiet, before you say something ludicrous. Stay out of trouble and I’ll watch your back. Clear?”

Neil’s lips fought free of Andrew’s fingertips to smile, a small thing that was so reserved but unrepentant all the same. Andrew hated it. “Crystal.”

#andreil #witch!andrew #demon!neil #someone kick me its going to get angsty #i promised myself it wouldnt and i failed #all for the game #fantasy au #magic au #neil josten #andrew minyard #spooktober au #jem writes

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

How It Ends (prompt: "forbidden") Behind Closed Doors 10 (Branjie) - Mia Ugly

A/N: Nothing but love to the Avengers discord, and especially Meggie and Evan for their beta skills and alllll the emotional labour. This anthology was a pleasure, and I’m so grateful to be a part of it. (And darling, this may not be the happy ending you were looking for, but it’s yours. Like everything, everything else.)

The day comes (or night, whatever) that they have to make a rule.

It’s Vanjie who says it first, lying horizontal across Brooke’s bed, sweat and lamplight shining against his skin. They’ve fucked twice already, tearing at buttons the moment the door to Brooke’s hotel room slams shut. The first time was starving, up against the wall with Vanjie’s teeth on Brooke’s neck to muffle the sounds he didn’t want to know he could make. The second time was slower, in bed, one of Brooke’s hands underneath Vanessa’s knee. The other on the side of his face, thumb hovering over his temple. Their eyes locked, pupils blown.

Vanjie is kinda fucked up after that. Feels like something’s sitting on his chest, and not in the fun way.

When Brooke gets up to fill a glass of water, that’s when Vanjie finally says it (to his naked back, not to his face. If Brooke was looking at him, there’d be no way, no damn way.)

“I think we gotta stop this.”

There’s no sound in the bathroom. Vanjie can make out the shadowy shape of Brooke, leaning against the sink. Not moving.

“Like - I ain’t getting my head right, we keep doing this. You ain’t either.”

He’s been thinking it for awhile, much as he tried not to. If he didn’t think about it, then he wouldn’t have to change anything - could just ignore A’Keria’s sad puppy eyes and Silky’s bullshit comments and do whatever the hell he wanted. Could go back to Brooke’s room and strip off his clothing and trace the cords of Brooke’s muscles with his hands and his mouth. Could push him up against a wall, or fall into bed with him, or follow him into the shower and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him until they were both breathless and desperate and dying for it and Vanjie was getting on his knees -

And then Brooke could do that sort of thing with someone else.

If he wanted.

Whenever he wanted.

And Vanjie could just - have a few too many shots on those nights. Dance real slow with strangers and talk too loud and drink until A’Keria or Silk were forced to drag his sloppy ass back to the hotel, pour water down his throat, distract him when he thought he was going to be sick or maybe start crying.

Vanjie’s been fighting hangovers a lot more lately. That ain’t his style. He doesn’t want to end up one of those queens who goes a little too hard, lets their shit become a problem. He already has a fucking problem, and it’s leaning all pale and fine as china in the bathroom, empty glass of water in its hand.

“You’re - probably right.” Brooke’s voice is rough. He still doesn’t move so Vanjie gets up, starts looking for his clothes. He’s a big girl, he can dress himself. Pretty soon Brooke’s going to walk out of the bathroom naked and if Vanjie doesn’t have some sort of barrier between them by then it’s going to be damn near impossible to leave. His shirt is at the foot of the bed, pants - where the fuck? There - the armchair. Vanjie grabs whatever he sees, dresses quickly, tells himself his hands aren’t shaking. He can’t find a sock. Where’s his damn sock?

“Are you okay?” Brooke finally comes out into the lamplight, like some sort of statue from Greece, something you’d see in a museum.

Vanjie swallows and turns his head away (don’t look at him, don’t touch him.)

He can live without Brooke. He swears to God he can. But he ain’t going to learn how if they keep doing this.

“No more - touching. If we aren’t -“ (If? Fuck right off.) “We aren’t,” Vanjie corrects himself. There ain’t no if, there’s nothing uncertain about it. “So I can’t. It doesn’t work for me.”

It’s actually working a little too well for him, and that’s why he’s gotta say something now. He’s looking for his love story, and none of the good ones end like this. Sure, this sort of casual thing might be okay for some people, but he ain’t one of them - and yet here he is, all because this stupid Canadian smiles so pretty, moves like a riptide on the dance floor, and knows exactly where to touch Vanjie to make him turn to glitter in his arms.

Vanjie might be in love with him (and that’s fine. It’s all good. It don’t matter.)

Falling is the sort of thing Vanjie never had a problem with. He falls over and over again, eyes wide open, doesn’t fucking learn.

Being loved ain’t usually a problem neither. After Season 10, people loved him. He was all up in his feelings, but he realized quick that people were seeing things in him - seeing him like he was something. Sometimes on the tour when he’s dancing onstage and Brooke’s watching from the wings, Vanjie wants to throw all that love in his face. When the people reach out to touch him, toss their dollar bills, scream as he dances the house down – Vanjie wants to grab Brooke by the jaw and say, “Look, look at this. They love me. Me, this growly little cookie-monster in swimsuits and fucking sparkles. Every one of these motherfuckers love me (why why why won’t you-)”

But he doesn’t do any of that. That’d be some kinda crazy.

“You’re right.” Brooke sits down on the bed, has the decency to wrap a sheet around his waist. His shoulders are slumped, but his face is carefully blank. Full-on Ice Queen mode. “You’re right. It’s not fair to you, I get it. Your sock’s over there.”

“It ain’t fair to neither of us.” Vanjie grabs the sock from the floor, and is pulling on his Timbs instead of looking at Brooke’s collarbones. He wants to, but if he looks at them he’ll want to bite them, and if he gets close enough to touch Brooke he’s fucked.

“So. We, uh-” Breathe. Don’t look at him. Don’t touch him. “We good?”

Brooke nods. “None of this. No touching.”

“Friends and shit,” Vanjie says, and his voice only breaks a little. To distract Brooke from that awful sound, he drags his hand slowly down his chest. “Just pretend all o’ this is the Season 11 crown. You can look at it, but you can’t have it.”

“Shady bitch,” Brooke murmurs, smiling spreading over his face.

Vanjie laughs like he ain’t in a million pieces. He doesn’t look at Brooke as he leaves. He’s got his own room on the tour, ‘bout time he slept in it.

He wants a love story, right? A happily-ever-after with a kiss and a sunset and - horses? Maybe a couple of horses.

A handsome prince, who doesn’t get annoyed when Vanjie runs his mouth, and doesn’t think he’s clingy, and ain’t afraid of relationships.

You know. That whole thing.

He’s looking for his love story, and none of the good ones end like this.

* *

Maybe you fall in love on television.

On set, in front of cameras that click like crickets and shine like gunmetal. In this world there is no tedium, no negotiating, no compromise - jus a slow-motion free fall into each other‘s arms. And maybe when you get to the real world that sort of love doesn’t last. Things become complicated. There are demands on your time, there are obligations. Dishes in the sink and laundry, fucking laundry. And there’s distance. There’s so much distance. Maybe after a few months or days or weeks apart, one of you forgets the way the other one smells. You wake up and realize that his cologne has faded from your sheets, your clothing. Maybe you start to notice other people, the lavender or bergamot or orange peel of their skin. In every crowd strangers are smiling at you, touching your hands and writing their numbers down. Maybe months later you look at him from across a stage - “Are you still together?” - and feel the knife-sharp ache carve cleanly through you, breastbone to navel, splitting you open like a peach, revealing your broken heart to the wide and broken world.

Is this an ending?

* *

It gets worse after that.

Vanjie ain’t expecting it, thinks he’ll figure his shit out and move on. Stuck on tour together, there aren’t a lot of places he can go where Brooke isn’t all up in his business, but at least Vanjie doesn’t smell like him anymore. At least he doesn’t wake up with his arms around Brooke’s waist and Brooke’s soft, sour breath in his face. At least Vanjie doesn’t stare at him in the silent, sunlit space before Brooke wakes (he only ever did that for a bit anyway, couple minutes, not like a psycho or nothing. Brooke’s damn eyelashes are darker at the roots, a honey-blonde that fades out to white, and when he’s sleeping there are no lines on his forehead at all, and no lines around his eyes, and Vanjie might be in love with him.)

So at least there’s that, right? It’s something. Progress.

Sometimes after the show they’ll all go out dancing, and Vanjie will be with his girls pretending not to see Brooke smiling and flirting with whatever trade he’s found in whatever bar they’re in (Brooke always finds someone.) And sometimes Vanjie will drink too much, vibrating with the pitch of the music, punching like a pulse, and Brooke will somehow end up inches away from him, bottle of water in his hand, not smiling.

“Don’t,” Vanjie says, leaning close enough to Brooke’s neck that he can smell his moisturizer.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t kiss me.” Vanjie tilts his head back, looks Brooke in his pretty blue eyes, because they made a rule, right? Vanjie’s gonna get over this white boy if it kills him.

“I wasn’t going to,” Brooke laughs, and their hips are swaying together but inches apart, in time to the Nicki Minaj song that’s blasting through the speakers. Back before all the shit went down, Brooke would have had his hand on Vanjie’s waist, maybe a thigh between Vanjie’s legs if they were drunk enough and the dance floor was crowded. They might be kissing, grinding on each other, fucking each other up as much as they could without getting arrested.

Or maybe Vanjie’d be facing away from him, that was always good too. Brooke’s chest up against Vanjie’s back, Brooke’s mouth hot and sharp at the place where Vanjie’s neck met his shoulder. Vanjie liked being shorter then, liked having this big Canadian all over him, all around him, huge and heavy as the thump of the bass.

“I wasn’t going to,” Brooke says again.

“Good.” Vanjie looks at Brooke’s mouth even though he shouldn’t. Looking’s almost as dangerous as the other thing, the touching thing. Not quite, but still a really stupid fucking idea.

“This is for you.” Brooke hands the bottled water over (tap water makes Vanjie sick sometimes, depends on where they are.) “You wanna dance?”

It would be so easy to say yes, so easy to close the narrow gap between their bodies, to suck the fabric of Brooke’s tank top into his mouth and bite down -

“Nah, better not,” Vanjie says.

Brooke smiles and steps back. Steps back again. Moves off through the crowd, lets strangers put their hands on his hips, their arms around his shoulders (Vanjie inhales deeply and holds his breath, traps the scent of Brooke’s skin in his mouth for as long as he can.)

That night the bartender slides Vanjie his number, and Vanjie winks and smiles and talks all kinds of shit with him, before tossing the piece of paper in the trash on his way to the cab.

* *

Is there another love story here - one that ends differently?

A story where he calls you before the season airs, drunk off his ass on tequila, says, “I need you I need you I’m sorry,” and then the call cuts out and his phone hits the pavement.

Then the next morning, sober and unsteady as a fault line, he calls you back. He tells you he was scared. Tells you he fucked up and you’re worth it and he misses you more than anything. Maybe you say “I’m in love with you,” and he laughs on the other line, voice full of pain and relief and it makes you float three feet off the ground in your apartment, pressed up against the stucco ceiling.

Is there another love story where he never makes you cry? Never says: “You want - what - the Notebook? It’s a fucking movie, it’s not a real thing that happens to real people -”

“What the fuck you know about that? You don’t know, because you ain’t done it. Mr. Ain’t Even Had a Boyfriend Before - don’t tell me how this works, what’s real -”

“Oh well fuck me I guess for having realistic expectations -”

“Nah, fuck you for doing this over the phone -“ No. No.

None of that.

Instead he calls you, he calls you back, he calls you, and you spend weeks flirting in clubs and on social media and when you go to the reunion he helps lace up your heels, dragging his hands up your legs like you’re a marble sculpture behind glass somewhere, something he ain’t allowed to touch. And when they ask, he says “yes, we’re still together” and you kiss on camera, in front of your best friends, in front of everybody, light spilling out of your mouth like you swallowed a star.

Is this a happy ending? Is it an ending at all? What happens next?

* *

The tour keeps touring.

Vanjie travels by bus, by plane, by train. He doesn’t sit by Brooke, not ever. That bitch is all legs and elbows, he’d be stretched over Vanjie’s seat the moment he sat down. And they made a rule, Vanjie isn’t going back on it (even though he knows how warm Brooke’s body would be against his, knows how his head fits against his shoulder.) So he sits up at the front with Silk and A’Keria, leaves Brooke to find his own way, sprawl all over Nina or someone else who’s got time for that.

When he’s performing, Vanjie flirts with the audience like it’s his job, like he’s getting paid in hearts. Sometimes he sees Brooke watching him (in the audience or in the wings, arms folded in front of himself like armour.) Vanjie tries not to look, but he always knows when Brooke’s there, can feel his gaze sliding over him like his lips might. So Vanjie touches other people, curls his fingers around the hands of men holding out tips, ruffles hair, kisses cheeks. He leans against Silky (ain’t nothing new about that, the Dream Girls are always all over each other) and Nina’s a cuddler and Vanjie’s got plenty of people who want to touch him.

Not that Brooke doesn’t want to - that much is clear from the way those blue eyes go flinty when Vanjie’s dancing up on someone else in the club or on stage (blue is the hottest kinda flame, right? You think a blue like that is gonna be cold, but it isn’t. Just like you think Brooke Lynn is gonna be cold, all carved outta ice and sharp edged and shimmering, but he ain’t. His skin is so warm that sometimes Vanjie would have to pull his hands back so he didn’t get burned; even hours later, his palms would glow gold.)

In the dressing room they are very careful. Vanjie doesn’t ask Brooke to get his zipper, Brooke keeps space between their bodies as he sneaks past to grab a makeup sponge. It’s crowded and chaotic but they manage to orbit around each other like planets, never getting too close. It’s kinda like a dance, and Vanjie’s a hell of a dancer.

(“Earrings, girl.” Brooke leans close (but not too close) to hand them over.

“Thanks. This your highlighter?”

“No, I got it for you last time I was at Sephora. That’s your shade, right?”

“Yeah.” Vanjie looks at the stick, still sealed in plastic. Then he looks over at Brooke who is staring into the mirror and lining his lips, over and over again until he gets them straight. A pink like the horizon in L.A., six AM. A pink like rose petals scattered over sheets, or across the runway. “Yeah, it is.”)

This should be easy for him.

But it’s kinda like being back on Drag Race, being so close to each other but always out of reach. It made Vanjie grind his teeth together then, and he’s ‘bout ready to crack a molar now (he always was that kid, the kid who wanted what he couldn’t have. The kid who wanted the hot surface of the stove soon as you told him to be careful, the kid who wanted sugar and booze and all the sharpest, rustiest edges, everything he wasn’t supposed to touch.)

Vanjie gets phone numbers, gets all sorts of trade sliding into his DMs, but he goes to bed alone. And maybe he sometimes thinks about Brooke there - how wet his mouth could be, how his fingers felt wrapped around each of Vanjie’s wrists -

- but he’s allowed to think about it. There ain’t no rules against thinking.

It’s the last night before Brooke is fucking off to Canada for a couple shows, leaving the rest of them behind. Vanjie isn’t pressed about it, it’s gonna be nice not to get all twitchy in the dressing room for a change. He’ll get some fucking sleep for once (and he ain’t going on Brooke’s instagram; he’s making it his New Years resolution and getting started early.)

They’re all weaving back from a night at the club, the other queens loud and glittering in front of Vanjie, when his heel comes off. He stops to fix it, nearly loses his balance, and then there is a hand on his shoulder - steadying him.

The hand is warm, so warm that Vanjie should know who it belongs to immediately. And he’s sloppy with tequila, wants nothing more than that hand to slide up into his hair and jerk his head back - but he pulls away. Straightens up. Blinks at Brooke, who’s taller than a bitch has any right to be and so fucking sexy in purple and gold -

“Sorry,” Brooke says, lifting both his hands. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine, mama.” Vanjie’s ice-pick heels skid on the pavement. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

They walk together, since everyone seems to have forgotten they exist (A’Keria at least gives Vanjie a worried glance over her shoulder, but he waves her off.) It’s almost three AM; even in full face, the streets are too empty for them to be attracting attention.

“They loved you tonight,” Brooke says as they walk, so quiet that at first all Vanjie hears is ‘loved you’ and has to piece the rest together a beat later, after his heart has started up again.

“Oh. Yeah, bitch, you know I don’t come to play. They loved you too, Miss Thing in your pointe shoes.” Up ahead, Silk is shouting about something, and Vanjie just makes out his name. Whatever, she’s probably just talking some bullshit. “What time you fly out tomorrow?”

“Way too early.”

Their shoulders don’t brush against each other’s as they walk. Vanjie is very careful about that. He can feel the banked coals of Brooke’s skin in the narrow space between them, and it’s almost as bad.

The hotel is only a few blocks away. Vanjie won’t have to deal with it long.

“I’ll miss you,” Brooke says suddenly, and Vanjie doesn’t fall teeth first into the sidewalk, doesn’t crack his jaw and scrape the skin off his cheekbones - but it feels about the same.

So many bullshit responses run through his head, scattering like mice in the light, but he takes too long deciding what to say, and then it’s too late.

“It’s nice being in the same place for once,” Brooke continues, looking straight ahead, words only slightly slurred. “I like it.”

“Well I’m - that’s - bitch, I-“ Make words happen, Mary. You ain’t been so stupid since the first day you met this queen, gagged and shell-shocked in the Werk Room like some sort of teenager. “Yeah.”

“I kinda - miss you already.” Brooke laughs weakly. “That’s weird, right? A weird thing to say.”

Vanjie doesn’t know - quite how to answer that. Because he understands that feeling, gets it in a bone-deep sorta way, like he’s been missing Brooke since the season finished shooting. Like he’s missing Brooke right now, with only a couple inches of air between their skin.

They keep walking.

“I’m sorry.” Brooke’s voice is low, and he’s tugging at the curling ends of his wig, blonde fading to pale pink. “I don’t know if I’ve said that enough. Sorry about how it went down. That I couldn’t be what you wanted.”

Vanjie hates every damn word coming out of Brooke’s damn mouth, each one smells like bleach and tastes like arsenic. “Brooke -“

“I know you were looking for that fairytale. And you deserve it. You do.”

The hotel is maybe on the next block? When they go around the corner, they’ll be able to see it. Vanessa feels something fucked up happening to his eyes, like they’re getting all blurry. Like - shit -

“You - hey baby, don’t -“

“Shut the fuck up.” Vanjie wipes at his face, probably smearing his eyeliner all to hell but whatever, it’s still dark out.

Neither of them say anything else for a bit, not until they’ve almost caught up with the other queens, and even then it’s only because Vanjie’s drunk and in his feelings. He has this thing in his head, and it’s stupid, and he wants to tell his own damn self to shut up but - but Brooke’s body is so close beside him, and it’s Brooke’s last night here, and it’s been more than three weeks since Vanjie got to sink his teeth into Brooke’s delicious lower lip -

“I think maybe I got it.” If Vanjie doesn’t say it the words might choke him.“The fairytale. You know. If I hadn’t got sent home Season 10, hadn’t been so sickening on my way out, they never would’ve brought me back. Maybe you woulda just stayed some piece of something in my DMs. So like - that we got to even have this - even for a bit -“

Vanjie gestures vaguely between the two of them, movements clumsy.

“But you only get one.” The words smell like bleach and taste like arsenic. “Think I used mine up.”

“Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, I been calling your name bitch! Are you coming with Kiki and me to Burger King or not?” Silk shouts over her shoulder.

Vanjie smiles because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s good at smiling, can do it even when his chest is being split wide open. He doesn’t want to look at Brooke, but he can’t help himself (Brooke’s all body heat and blue flame and purple and gold and Vanjie’s in love with him, the fuck is he doing with his life.)

“Don’t matter, baby,” he says quietly. “Don’t matter. I had it for a minute, right?”

“Jose -“ Brooke takes a step closer. “That’s -“

“Don’t kiss me.”

They look at each other, just breathing. Vanjie can feel the two halves of his broken heart rattling around in his chest.

“I wasn’t going to,” Brooke says, voice shaking as much as Vanjie’s hands are.

“Miss Vaaaanjie!” Silky shouts again, and Vanjie smiles (blood staining his white teeth) leaves Brooke alone on the sidewalk. He wobbles off to his girls, ignores A’Keria’s sad puppy dog eyes and Silk’s bullshit comments for the rest of the night, stuffs his mouth full of onion rings so he don’t gotta feel a different sort of hungry.

And when he goes back to his hotel room alone, he thinks about Brooke. Because he’s allowed to.

There ain’t no rules against that.

* *

Or what if that doesn’t happen? What if instead you get back to the hotel and show up outside his door, say “fuck it” and suck a mark onto his neck that he’s gonna have to cover for days? What if you get his skin, all salt-sweet and stinging against your tongue? What if he drags you inside and you don’t even make it to the bed, hands and knees on the hotel carpet, hardly able to say his name around the red-hot heart in your throat? And then later, in bed, he pushes your hair out of your eyes - it’s getting too long - and you say “I’m still in love with you.”

Fade to black. Credits. Helluva ending.

Or maybe you gotta wait. The waiting is okay, hurts in that nice sorta way and you’ve been waiting long enough that it’s an art form now, like blocking out your brows. So maybe you wait. And after the tour’s over, maybe you go to Aruba. The tickets are bought and the hotel is booked and he made you a promise, “Vanjie, we’re going on vacation,” and looking so fine it was just about enough to break your heart on the runway.

That’d be a good story, right?

Maybe when you’re there in the sunshine and salt you look over at him and it all makes sense again, all slides into place. By your side, eyes closed against the light, he looks like a shield and and feels like a sword. Nothing’s frightening when he’s within reach, nothing. Maybe you say “Can we try this again?” but what you’re really saying is ‘take me back, take me back, take me back’ - three words, a question and a prayer and a spell for calling loved-ones (your tia was a bit of a bruja, you don’t fuck with that shit.)

Take me back. I got nothing without you, my hands are empty.

Maybe then he says yes, and kisses you like he remembers how you taste, like you’re the only person on the whole beach on the whole island in the whole world. Maybe he kisses you and you open up both hands, full to overflowing with clear water.

Is this an ending? Here on a beach in the sunlight - it’d be a real pretty one. A proper fairytale, all washed clean with salt.

What a way to go.

* *

Here’s the thing that nobody knows: Vanjie’s the one who ended it.

You wouldn’t get that from watching the reunion, Brooke going off about wanting to fuck around and that. And he did, and he does, but he didn’t do none of that while he was with Vanjie. They talked about it, they talked about a lot of things in increasing frequency and volume, and finally there was the night Vanjie was dead tired and Brooke was light years away, mumbling into the phone about how hard long-distance shit was and Vanessa just -

Vanessa was done.

(“If it’s so hard then what are we even doin’ here? If I ain’t worth it to you -“

“I didn’t say that. Fuck, I would never say you weren’t -“

“Well it feels like you’re saying it. Feels like you’ve been saying it for four months now. It’s not supposed to be this much work, Brock, it’s supposed to be easy -“)

Vanjie gets into it with his girls, all his stupid feelings, three nights after Brooke’s left the tour. He hasn’t had that much to drink, not really. It’s exhaustion that’s slowing down his heartbeat, making the room spin. Brooke was all over Instagram tonight, and Vanjie shouldn’t have known that, but he did.

“You only get one fairytale.” He’s running his mouth, trying to make them understand. “And I used mine up.” Then he almost falls off the bed.

Above him, Silky and A’Keria exchange A Look.

“Girl, you know we love your dumb ass, but that’s some bullshit right there.”

Vanjie doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t. It’s a near thing, though, and what the fuck is his problem lately. Whatever, the Dream Girls have seen him worse, seen him uglier (right after the break-up, and right after the reunion, and that one night in Orlando when the Snatch Game episode aired and Brooke was smiling so pretty on-screen as Vanjie kissed him, the two of them stupid in love and also just stupid.)

“It ain’t bullshit,” Vanjie protests weakly. “Bitch, it’s The Notebook.”

“I already got a kid, why do I have to parent her as well?” A’Keria says to Silk.

“You ain’t go to do nothing, ho.” The bed shifts as Silk stretches out beside Vanjie, a warm weight all along his side.

“Miss motherfucking Vanjie. You know this ain’t a movie, right?”

“I’m not stupid –“

Silk cuts him off. “I ain’t saying you are. But I think you got some stories in your head that aren’t doing you no favours. Like all this fairytale shit.”

“You’re cute as hell, baby, all this nonsense.” A’Keria sits down on the other of Vanjie, pets his long-ass hair. “It’s why we love you. But – you can’t expect the rest of the world to be your kind of crazy. Not when it hurts you so bad.”

“It was me,” Vanjie says, and then breathes into the bedsheets, breathes and breathes while he still can. “Did you know? I’m the one who kicked his ass to the curb. I’m the one who –“ His voice breaks, and A’Keria sighs.

“Yeah, sis, we been knew. You’ve told us that, like, every time you got more than two drinks in you.”

“And we may love your dumb ass, but not enough to see you act a fool.” Silky gives him a shove. “I ain’t saying you should take him back or nothing. He’s a shady-lady, that one. I ain’t telling you what to do. But I am saying you sure as hell get more than one love story.”

Vanjie can’t talk for a bit. A’Keria keeps petting his head.

“Shit, you think people just go around givin’ up every time they get their hearts broke?”

“But if it ain’t perfect - like.” Vanjie doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. “If it ain’t that fairytale -“

“It ain’t. Girl, that’s not how this works.”

“How the fuck does it work then? Cuz I don’t know.“

“What - you think I do?” Silk barks out a laugh, “Where’s my sugar daddy at? Bitch, we’re all just figuring our shit out. You’re looking for a map where there ain’t one.”

Vanjie thinks about the map he mighta drawn for himself (in ballpoint, on the back of his hand, more of a kid’s treasure map than something from an atlas. A line that curves over his knuckles, wraps around his thumb, around his wrist. A thin black thread side-winding to an X in the centre of his palm.

And would the X have fire-blue eyes and smell like vanilla? Would the X be a camera crew and a crown and a world falling in love with him? A wedding day, with his mama looking fierce and smiling at him from the front row? A house full of kids screaming nonsense and someone warm and strong beside him, a sword and a shield and a spell and a prayer -)

“Aw hell.” Vanjie’s gotta distract himself or he might die. “Is this where I’m supposed to learn that real love is friendship and shit?”

“Yeah right, like you’d ever try to learn something,” Silk says, “Besides, my sugar daddy comes along, I’ma leave you girls in the dust. You ain’t never gonna see me again.”

A’Keria laughs and flops down over Vanjie’s back, and Silk hugs him and Vanjie tells himself to get his shit together. Good God Girl, figure it the hell out (or at least fall for someone who can actually do relationships without having a damn panic attack.)

But that night in his room, Vanjie draws a map on his hand.

Studies it, follows the line with his eyes until they’re too tired and the line starts to double. He doesn’t mark an X - doesn’t know where to put it, or what he might find there if he grabbed a shovel and broke through the dark earth.

They fly to England the next afternoon, get loud and white-girl wasted in first class cuz that shit’s free. Brooke joins them a few days later, shows up in the middle of rehearsal. Vanjie is onstage, running over the changes to the Dream Girls number when the back door of the theatre bangs open and a tall blonde idiot comes stomping in.

Brooke is dressed in sweats, holding a massive cup of coffee and looking exhausted. Vanjie misses his cue and almost knocks A’Keria over.

“Bitch, what are you – oh.” Silk glances from Vanjie to Brooke and back again, pressed as all hell.

Vanjie glares at Silky, shakes his head, and they take it from the top.

In the audience of queens waiting for their turn on stage, Brooke has slumped down beside Nina, dropping his head to rest on the back of the seat in front of him. Vanjie counts the beats down silently, tells himself to focus up.

1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and -

1 (why’s he look so tired) 2 (why’s he look so good) 3 (bet that sweatshirt’s soft) 4 (you’re a stupid bitch, Jose) -

Vanjie gets the new choreography this time, or at least doesn’t knock anyone over. When the song is done and A’Keria is satisfied enough to let them escape, Vanjie joins his sisters in the audience to watch the rest of the run-through. He does a couple calculations in his head – how close can he get without making shit weird – and sits in the empty row two behind Brooke, pretends he ain’t bothered. Brooke immediately turns around, stretches his long arm across the back of the seat as he smiles at Vanjie.

“Hi,” he says quietly. “You looked good up there.”

“You look like shit,” Vanjie says in response, and it makes Brooke laugh.

“I feel like it. Can never sleep on planes. How have the last couple shows been?”

“Flawless. Best yet. Wonder why?”

“Maybe because no one’s been here to distract you.” Brooke raises an eyebrow, and Vanjie shakes her head.

“Bitch, you wish you were fine enough to distract me.” Vanjie doesn’t ask him how Toronto was, he saw the fucking photos.

“Hey, this is yours.” Brooke rummages in his backpack and pulls out a brown paper bag. He leans toward Vanjie, reaches across the aisle. “Got you a danish. I was getting coffee, figured you’d be hangry about now.”

“Oh.” Vanjie looks at him. Waits just a second before he takes the bag. He’s very, very careful to not let their fingers touch. “Uh, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Brooke smiles with his exhausted-ass face, crazy purple eyes that somehow make Vanjie feel like he’s been smacked across the jaw.

“How come I don’t get danishes?” Nina fake pouts in the seat next to Brooke.

“Cuz this fool didn’t break your heart,” Vanjie says.

It’s a throwaway line.

A bullshit joke.

Vanjie says it without thinking, just running his mouth like he always does. Except this time, Brooke is looking at him when he says it. And this time Vanjie is looking back. And it’s like black ice cracking underneath their feet.

Brooke stands up, says “Um,” but Vanjie is faster.

“Shit, forgot I gotta -“ He can’t even come up with a lie, books it out of there like a crazy bitch. He’s on the edge of the row and he hustles down the centre aisle without anyone catching up to him. Without anyone touching his shoulder, making him stop (maybe Brooke doesn’t even come after him anyway, maybe he just stood up for fun, for a change in damn perspective.)

Vanjie cringes as the theatre doors slam shut behind him. Fuck, fuck, fuck it all.

What the hell was he thinking, saying something so stupid?

What the hell is he doing running away?

That night, he feels Brooke’s gaze like a razor as he slays “No More Drama,” crawling across the floor and eye-fucking the trade in the front row. He can’t touch Brooke so he touches himself, drags his hands down his flat chest, over his waist, the curves of his hip pads. He touches himself like he’s gorgeous, beloved, the only person worth looking at under the stage lights. The audience loses their damn minds after he’s done, and as he goes offstage he passes an inch away from Brooke in his bondage “Hytes” get-up, criss-crossed with black X’s.

Shit.

“Good job,” Brooke says, real quiet. He smells like vanilla and hairspray and his fancy bullshit moisturizer.

They haven’t talked about the whole thing in the theatre that morning. Vanjie’s not ever going to talk about it, never.

“Press the inside of your left lashes down,” Vanjie says, gesturing to his own face like he’s a mirror. “I can see them coming away.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Kill it, bitch.” And Vanjie means something else, something he doesn’t even know how to put into words. Something like “I see you.”

“I see your lashes, and your bottled water, and your bullshit, and your tired eyes.”

“I see you trying.”

“I see -“

“Thanks,” Brooke says again (you only get one fairytale, right?) and Vanjie does not touch him.

* *

Maybe you gotta wait even longer for your ending.

Maybe the ache comes slow, creeps like ivy up an old porch until it’s everywhere, tangled into reef knots, eating through the wood and brick.

Maybe you exchange silver rings, stand in a forest outside a small town in Ontario with your mama in the front row, looking fierce and only crying a little. Maybe all the nonsense and all the lies come true for you, maybe there are green leaves and dappled sunshine and you look at him and think: I will feel like this until my heart stops beating.

I will feel like this until the end of the world.

Maybe your body changes shape, moves pieces of itself aside for this other person to curve into. At night you sleep like question marks, you connect the moles on his back to find constellations, you pet his eyebrows. Maybe it lasts for years like this.

Maybe five.

Maybe forty-five.

When do you draw the line and say this is the happy ending?

Before the slow drift apart that you swore would never happen, not to you, not to this?

Before the tears and packing tape and lawyers and goodbyes?

Or maybe it lasts longer, goes all the way to a hospital bed and hands interlocked and an angelic choir of beeping machines? Blue veins, skin like ash -

Tell me, is this an ending?

* *

It’s raining that night, pouring - of all the damn clichés. Vanjie shoulda seen it coming.

They have a day off before the next show, and Vanjie’s heading back late from the hotel gym, muscles aching and sweat turning his skin gold. And there’s Brooke Lynn Hytes, standing in the middle of the hallway, soaked to the fucking bone.

“The fuck? You go swimming or something?”

“I was jogging and I lost my key card.” Brooke leans up against his door. His teeth are chattering, just a bit (Vanjie wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t always staring at Brooke’s mouth, but fuck you.). Brooke’s long-sleeved shirt is sticking to his shoulders and stomach. “There’s no one at the damn front desk either.”

“Why you going jogging during a hurricane?”

“It wasn’t this bad before I left.” Brooke shivers, rubs his hands over his arms. His hair looks terrible, blonde and stringy, a wet cocker spaniel. “It’s fine, I can wait here. I’ll keep checking -“

“Really bitch? Really? I’ma just let you stand here, looking like the Little Mermaid or something?” Vanjie grabs his key out of his pocket, gestures for Brooke to follow. Vanjie’s room is only a few down from Brooke’s (don’t ask how he knows this, he just does, and fuck you again.)

“Here, come on.” He unlocks his door and Brooke comes in after him. “You can shower if you want or - dry off at least. There’s a robe in there. I’ll keep callin’ the front desk, see where the fuck they’re at.”

He hears Brooke close the door behind them. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Sure, I’m sure. It ain’t like -“ Vanjie turns around.

There are raindrops running down Brooke’s neck and his eyes are the colour of the hottest kinda fire (and damn it, Vanjie had been doing so well).

He doesn’t know which one of them moves first, but suddenly he’s in Brooke’s arms, pressed all up against that drowned-rat looking queen, kissing him, kissing him. Vanjie slots their mouths together, wet against warm, clutches wild at the soaking material of Brooke’s shirt. He kisses him everywhere he can reach - the edge of his jaw, his throat, his stringy hair (“fuck me, fuck me up, please -”) rubs his face against Brooke’s skin until his eyelashes are wet too and Vanjie tells himself it’s just rain.

Then Brooke’s hand is in his hair, tilting his head back, and his voice is so low and rough that it makes Vanjie almost fall over, and his hips are hitching against Brooke’s and -

“Wait, wait -“ Brooke bites against his throat, “Wait.”

They both freeze. Brooke’s teeth are still on Vanjie’s throat. Vanjie’s hands have climbed up beneath Brooke’s shirt, holding tight to his damp shoulder blades.

Vanjie breathes. Drops his hands, and steps backwards, shaking. “Yeah, you’re right, I -“

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s Brooke who says it.

Brooke.

Vanjie almost doesn’t recognize his voice.

“What?”

“And I don’t want to just - I don’t want it to be like it was.”

Vanjie isn’t breathing anymore. Can’t do anything but stand there, lips tasting like rainwater.

“You - what?” He’s gotta be hearing things. In all those endings - Brooke never said it first. “What?”

Brooke blinks his wet, white eyelashes. “I know I fucked up. But I want - I wanted - fuck, I’m sorry. This is hard for me.”

And just like that - Vanjie can breathe again. Shit, he’s so dumb. He lets out a laugh that aches in his ribs, that feels like a cage door opening, starlings flooding out. “Brock. Baby. This is hard for everybody.”

Brooke’s hands are trembling, with cold or maybe with something else, “I don’t want to - break your heart. Fuck, I never - I don’t want to hurt you again.”

And Vanjie wants to say no, no, no. It’s going to be easy and perfect and everything it’s supposed to be. It’s going to be a fairytale, The Notebook, or else what’s the damn point?

(But maybe fairytales aren’t something you find. Something you get, something you’re given. Maybe they’re something - something you write.

Something you build.)

“I mean.” Vanjie breathes through his nose and swears to God he won’t start crying. “You might hurt me. Or I might hurt you. And Silk will probably kick both our asses when we do.”

And because he falls over and over, never fucking learns a thing and isn’t going to start now, he reaches out. Stops Brooke’s trembling hands with his own.

“Shit. You wanna try it anyway?”

Brooke closes his eyes when he nods, but only for a moment. And when Vanjie takes a step closer, leans in - Brooke stops him, gently, a hand on each shoulder.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says quietly. But then he smiles, just the corner of that pretty pink mouth. “Yet.”

Vanjie doesn’t, even though the longing is all wrapped around his throat, about to choke him. He doesn’t. He smiles back at Brooke Lynn Hytes, and the stretch of it hurts but in a good way.

“You should have a shower. You want some food after? We can get room service or something,” Vanjie says.

“Okay,” Brooke says and his eyes are shining.

“And we can - talk. If you want.”

“Yeah, I want to.”

“Okay,” Vanjie says. Brooke turns to go into the bathroom, and Vanjie might start laughing but he’s not going to start crying.

He’s going to call the front desk and get Brooke a goddamn room key. Then maybe he’ll shower too, get into his sweats, eat something.

And they’ll talk.

(This is not the happy ending you were looking for.)

And Vanessa will say something, something like, “I see you,” and it will weigh enough to crack the spines of those small words.

(But oh my darling -)

And they’ll touch. Soon.

Not yet.

(- it’s a start.)

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #avengers anthology #angst #romance #canon compliant #behind closed doors #mia ugly #concrit welcome #submission

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cheatdeathsarchive · 4 years

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They’d been inseparable the entire time they had been in Sanctuary. They’d been side by side when Nick had been holding on by a thread. Sort of like seeing Mayor Hancock without his red jacket or Trashcan Carla without her brahmin. So when Six showed up by herself, a bright and sunny smile on her painted red lips Preston wondered where the synth had been, prepared himself for the worst in fact.

“Ma’am ... Six, I’m so sorry --”

Preston was surprised when her hand came up to stop him, “Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, cat. Nicky’s right as rain, just crashin’ at DiMA’s pad in Acadia. It was touch and go for awhile there, but we’re outta the woods. I have you to thank for that. Also for puttin’ up with me bein’ so frosted.” She smiled, and it was a nice smile even when it was tinged with sheepishness. A kind of smile that was hard not to reciprocate. It was enough to make anybody feel special. Her panic had been pretty understandable.

“Just apart of what we do, Six,” he reminded her. She laughed a bit, though Preston had a feeling that he knew what was coming next. He was right, as she batted her lashes and looked at him fondly with bright blue eyes.

“Would you mind cluin’ me in to what we’ve missed, handsome? I think I’ve got a couple’a visits to make.”

Only one, really, but in case Nick was behind her she’d have to move fast. Six couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Benny felt and what he meant when he’d say that she forced his hand. For a second it looked like Preston had more questions -- another look seemed to do the trick, though. All Preston could really say was that things had been...

Quiet.

Things had been quiet; just as well while he waited for his nose to heal. Gunners were in place, plenty of bands of raiders and thugs just like the Khans or any group of murderers were more than ready to deal with the pockets of resistance that wouldn’t be blown to hell with all who were on board. The only real difference between the NCR or anybody else out here was the uniform, but that was a no brainer.

Benny was resourceful as much as he was anything else. He was no Six, but Yes Man had been entirely his own doing. It took bartering and trading and far too much bullshit to get the old flight manuals he could to figure out how the Prydwen might work, but he was getting there. The information he had pulled from Nick’s brain hadn’t been good enough. Useful, yes, but Benny wasn’t keen on praising half-assed jobs.

It would have been simpler if he could just sneak some C-4 onto the load-bearing parts of the ship during his little rendezvous with Maxson, but that lacked panache. Maybe in some serendipitous way the fact he had to figure out what systems to sabotage by working his way backwards was a little more refined.

There hadn’t been hide nor hair of either Nick or Six. Minutemen had been doing something, but the trail went cold nearer it went to the coast. Not that he looked far or hard. There were other things to worry about. He almost hoped she’d keep her promise and come back and kill him. It would’ve meant something, maybe. If he cared about that at all.

There were muffled voices on the other side of his office door. The first time in awhile, and he groaned to himself; if it was that goddamn news reporter again he’d finally make good on his threat to kick her little sister out of here. His hand dragged across his face, and he listened for the annoying bite of her voice and her complaints still, even now, about how he threw Nick Valentine out. He felt that same satisfaction he felt every time he heard that name nowadays -- the sight of him helpless and dead in that chair.

Piper Wright’s voice never came. Instead he sat upright for a second at the sound of bells, like a slash of cold water to the face or a shot of something strong, “Ring a ding ding,” was all he could say dryly under his breath. He stood up to shoo away the bodyguards that were posted at various doors while he stood up to see if his ears were deceiving him, careful not to rush even in his own privacy where no one could see him fighting to not trip over his feet.

“The mayor isn’t expecting anyone,” Geneva insisted with a politeness that made even Benny cringe, “Let alone one of you... Minutemen. We have no need for you -- now leave.”

“I’m not anyone,” Six replied, voice pleasant but clipped. She might as well dropped an unpleasant insult. As he opened the door he could see the wool frock coat and the old militia hat that covered her face just so. He whistled low instead of giving into his desire to laugh -- not one of his more favorite costumes.

Both of them looked up, and Geneva opened her mouth to say something, instead Benny opened the door up to invite Courier Six inside.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” Benny asked dryly, and Six pursed her lips before she stepped past him, he shot a look at his confused receptionist and shut the door.

She didn’t walk by him slow, taking her time like she used to. It was rushed, like she wanted to be close to him as little as possible. Soon as the door was shut the hat was tossed onto the couch that made the office feeling more like a his penthouse in The Tops.

“Ain’t here if you’re worried about your nose again,” she replied coolly, and he was almost proud of her.

“Pussycat, I ain’t a rebound,” the look on his face wasn’t a smile, though his lips twisted up like it was one, “You don’t get to down grade and change your mind once you realize what you gave up. And if you’re here to kill me, well... Can’t say that get up does anything to stop my heart.”

She was shrugging off her jacket, and Benny reached for it to help like was the usual routine of things. There was that trusty old vault suit. There was something markedly different in the way she leaned away when he leaned in. Minor, but still there and painfully noticeable to someone who was used to the script going a different way. She looked up at him different -- harder, and now that almost proud was changing.

He was proud. First time ever he wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“Go pound sand you smarmy bastard. I’m here to blow up a ship -- or have you gotten cold feet? Accordin’ to Mr. Garvey you’ve been sittin’ around doin’ a fat lot of nothin'.”

“That’d be more fun,” he grumbled, and pulled out a cigarette to feed between her lips. She took it -- so some things were the same, but they also weren’t as she lit it herself. Benny didn’t miss a beat as he put the second one he procured into his own mouth. “You forced my hand, baby. Don’t have all the information I need on that big ship to know how to properly infiltrate it, dig?”

“Let me take a look,” she offered, crossing the table to lean over the manuals scattered about. She seemed focused, determined. Benny lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall.

“The Boomers taught me a thing or two about pre-war flyin’ machines,” Six explained, “Prydwen ain’t one o’ those, but they use all old world parts. Surprised you even know what half these words mean, Benny.” This was her in -- he always pulled Maria out to spin her on his finger after one too many drinks. A few many more passed that and she’d be on the table. She’d get him drunk and then she’d strike, because Six would be damned if she ever kissed him again. The thought of doing so repulsed her.

“Sticks and stones, Sixie -- I’ll pour us some drinks just like the old days,” He’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t relieved -- he could use her for now. This minute shit was more her bread and butter, the mechanical her unnatural obsession. Couldn’t rightly look a gift horse in the mouth, however; she still hated the brotherhood more than she hated him, and Benny could use that to his advantage. Once she was of use then he could figure out what to do with her.

After all, you don’t trust a broad from New Vegas, especially not the one you molded with your own two hands.

@o-rusted-heart

#o-rusted-heart #orustedheart #drabble tag pending.#oopsie #long post /#long post for ts #( ic. ) resume save file.#( arc iv. ) how can you save the world from itself? / fallout 4.

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thisislizheather · 4 years

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The Witches Are Coming by Lindy West - A Review

I’ve been waiting for this book of essays to come out for months and it was so, so worth the the wait. I know it’s asking a lot, but can this woman please just write a book every year? Or every six months? That’d be great, thanks. Favourite parts ahead!

“This moment in history is about more than individual interactions between individual people. Those matter, too - it matters how you made your subordinate feel with that comment, and it matters quite a lot that the woman on the bus went home and sobbed after you groped her - but, as Rebecca Traister wrote in December 2017 on The Cut: “This moment isn’t just about sex. It’s about work.” It’s about who feels at home in the workplace and who feels like an outsider - which, by extension, dictates who gets to thrive and ascend, who gets to hire their replacements, who gets to set their children up for success, who gets credit and glory, and who gets forgotten. It’s about who feels safe in public spaces and who doesn’t. Which is to say, it’s about everything.”

“We gobble up cable news’ insistence that both sides of an argument are equally valid and South Park’s insistence that both sides are equally stupid, because taking a firm stance on anything opens us up to criticism.”

“We kept letting Adam Sandler make more movies after Little Nicky, because white men are allowed to fail spectacularly and keep their jobs.”

There’s literally an entire chapter on Adam Sandler movies that is perfection. You have to read it. Seriously, just pick this up at a bookstore and read that one chapter, if nothing else.

I loved all of her points about how there was endless discussion about The Ted Bundy Tapes when it came out earlier this year and how we debated whether this murdering monster was handsome or not. And how that same type of debate is somehow in the same arena as when people debate whether Elizabeth Warren is “likable” or not.

There’s a part in the Ted Bundy special where the judge sympathizes with Bundy and goes on a ridiculous tangent about how it’s “such a shame” that he turned out that way when he had so much potential, it’s truly disgusting to see a judge commiserate with a rapist and murderer, but it happened and it’s wild to see. “That anecdote is often held up as evidence of Bundy’s charisma - even the judge sentencing him to death was seduced by that smirk, that finger wave. But it is the most blatant, overwhelming evidence we have for the opposite. Men don’t need charisma to succeed. It doesn’t matter if men are likable, because men are people who do things, who don’t have to ask first, whose potential has value even after it is squandered.”

“Chasing likability has been one of women’s biggest setbacks, by design. I don’t know that rejecting likability will get us anywhere, but I know that embracing it has gotten us nowhere.”

Absolutely in love with the fact that she loves the movie Clue as much as I do.

I really liked the chapter that she discussed Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP, even if I did wish that she went in on her/the brand harder.

So in love with the chapter where she talks about South Park and its creators. I’ve always hated that show, it’s never been good, and I can’t understand who the hell would be into it. It’s never been funny, edgy, smart. Insane that it’s still on.

Maybe I’m really reading into it, but there’s a tiny part where she mentions that PETA sucks and I can’t stop all my little inside screams - it’s hard to find somewhere who dislikes all the same stuff as you.

“Men think that misogyny is a women’s issue; women’s to endure and women’s to fix. White people think that racism is a pet issue for people of color; not like the pure, economic grievances of the white working class. Rape is a rape victim’s problem: What was she wearing? Where was she walking? Had she had sex before?“

“Whenever talk turned toward solutions, the panel came back to mentorship: women lifting up other women. Assertiveness and leaning in and ironclad portfolios and marching into that interview and taking the space you deserve and changing the ratio and not letting Steve from accounting talk over you in the morning. During the closing question-and-answer period, a young woman stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice electric with anger, “but all I’ve heard tonight are a bunch of things women can do to fight sexism. Why is that our job? We didn’t build the system. This audience should be full of men.”

“Sexism is a male invention. White supremacy is a white invention. Transphobia is a cisgender invention. So far, men have treated #MeToo like a bumbling dad in a detergent commercial: well intentioned by floundering, as though they are not the experts. You are the experts. Only 2.6 percent of construction workers are female. We did not install that glass ceiling, and it is not our responsibility to demolish it.”

When talking about what men can actually do to help women: ”“Do you ever stick up for me?” sounds childish, but I don’t know that gussying up the sentiment in more sophisticated language would enhance its meaning. It isn’t fun to be the one who speaks up. Our society has engineered robust consequences for squeaky wheels, a verdant pantheon from eye rolls all the way up to physical violence. One of the subtlest and most pervasive is social ostracism: coding empathy as the fun killer, consideration for others as an embarrassing weakness, and dissenting voices as out-of-touch, bleeding-heart dweebs (at best). Coolness is a fierce disciplinarian. A result is that, for the most part, the only people weathering those consequences are the ones who don’t have the luxury of staying quiet. Women, already impeded and imperiled by sexism, also have to carry the social stigma of being feminist buzzkills if they call attention to it. People of color not only have to deal with racism; they also have to deal with white people labeling them “angry” or “hostile” or “difficult” for objecting. What we could use is some loud, unequivocal backup.”

“I know there’s pressure not to be a dorky, try-hard male feminist stereotype; there’s always a looming implication that you could lose your spot in the boys’ club; if you seem too opportunistic or performative in your support, if you suck up too much oxygen and demand praise, women will yell at you for that, too. But I need you to absorb that risk. I need you to get yelled at and made fun of, a lot, and if you get kicked out of the club, I need you to be relieved, and I need you to help build a new one.”

The entire chapter about the complications with Joan Rivers is such a great one.

“You can hate someone and love them at the same time. Maybe that’s a natural side effect of searching for heroes in a world not built for you.”

Okay, so the only thing that we strongly disagree on is her previous love for Adam Carolla. Always hated that man.

““Common sense’” without growth, curiosity, or perspective eventually becomes conservatism and bitterness.”

“There are pieces of pop culture that you outgrow because you get older. Then there are pieces of pop culture that you outgrow because you get better.”

“Art has no obligation to evolve, but it has a powerful incentive to do so. Art that is static, that captures a dead moment, is nothing. It is, at best, nostalgia; at worst, it can be a blight on our sense of who we are, a shame we pack away. Artists who refuse to listen, participate, and change along with the world around them are not being silenced or punished by censorious college sophomores. They are letting obsolescence devour them, voluntarily. Political correctness is just the inexorable turn of the gear. Falling behind is preventable.”

Talking about Ricky Gervais:” “People see something they don’t like, and they expect it to stop,” he said. “The world is getting worse. Don’t get me wrong, I think I lived through the best fifty years of humanity, 1960 through 2015, the peak of civilization for everything. For tolerances, for freedoms, for communication, for medicine! And now it’s going the other way a little bit.” “Dumpster fire” has emerged as the favorite emblem of our present sociopolitical moment, but that Gervais quote feels more apt and more tragic as a metaphor: the Trump/Brexit era is a rich, famous, white, middle-aged man declaring the world to be in decline the moment he stops understanding it.”

“Adam Carolla isn’t angry because he’s being silenced; he’s angry because he’s being challenged. He’s been shown the road map to continued relevance, and it doesn’t lead back to his mansion. He’s angry because he’s being asked to do the basic work of maintaining a shared humanity or else be left behind. He’s choosing the past. Gervais and Carolla are not alone in presenting themselves as noble bulwarks against a wave of supposed leftwing censorship. (A Netflix special, for the record, is not what “silencing” looks like.)”

Talking Louis CK: “Less than a year after his vow to retreat and listen, CK made the laziest and most cowardly choice possible: to turn away from the difficult, necessary work of self-reflection, growth, and reparation, and run into the comforting arms of people who don’t think it’s that big a deal to show your penis to female subordinates. Conservatives adore a disgraced liberal who’s willing to pander to them because he’s too weak to grow. How pathetic to take them up on it.”

“Like every other feminist with a public platform, I am perpetually cast as a disapproving scold. But what’s the alternative? To approve? I do not approve.” - This is probably my most favourite line in the entire book

“Not only are women expected to weather sexual violence, intimate partner violence, workplace discrimination, institutional subordination, the expectation of free domestic labor, invisible cuts that undermine us daily, we are not even allowed to be angry about it.”

“I’d been taught that when ordinary people try to do activism, they look stupid. Of course now I know that there is no effective activism without the passion and commitment of ordinary people and it is a basic duty of the privileged to show up and fight for issues that don’t affect us directly. But maintaining that separation has served the status quo well. It keeps good people always just shy of taking action. It’s tone policing. It’s the white moderate. But it’s changing.”

“Diet culture is a coercive, misogynist pyramid scheme that saps women’s economic and political power.”

Definitely the best thing I’ve read all year. GO BUY!

#The Witches Are Coming #Lindy West #this is liz heather #Liz Heather #book review #great book 2019 #great book fall 2019 #feminist #feminism book #feminism

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hollandroos · 6 years

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Blow a kiss, Fire a Gun | Pt.3

Teaser Pt.1 Pt.2 | TOM HOLLAND MOB AU

Do you guys prefer a shorter (2k-2.5k) post ever 2-3 days or a longer post (3-4k) every 4 days?

Words: 2.6K

Summary: You’re arranged to marry Tom Holland, Londons most feared mobster, but it’s never easy. He doesn’t seem to want you and you don’t want anything to do with him.

For the longest time, Tom only knew what it was like to be controlling, demanding and overall cruel. He ran the biggest mob in all of London so the boy didn’t have time for fun. He couldn’t just go bowling with his mates on the weekends or spend the early hours of the morning in a pub, downing unacceptable amounts of alcohol, no matter how much he wanted too in the earlier years. His life consisted of keeping a straight face and keeping everything under control. The only thing he hadn’t had control over was you, and now that he’d met you he doubted you were the type to go ahead and submit to him.

Over the last couple of days, he’d learnt your schedule, he’d worked out typically what time you got out of bed, ate your meals if you ever visited the library etc and he worked out how to dodge you. It wasn’t that. No, he definitely wasn’t a fan of this at all, despite the flirty, confident front he put up. There was something about you but Tom was not prepared to get off of his high horse just yet.

Shutting the lid of his laptop and shoving the pens back in their holder, Tom looked up at his father who had been patiently sitting on the other side of the desk for the last five minutes, waiting for his son to finish whatever important business he was attending.

Tom could easily remember being a kid, sitting behind his father's desk and watching the way his father acted. Taking in exactly how he spoke to his men and dealt with those that did him wrong. He would sometimes sit downstairs eagerly, waiting for his father to finish a meeting so that he could learn all about it, who did them wrong or if any new deals had come up. His parents use to say that Tom was a born leader, always taking the front stand.

But Tom also watched how his father interacted with his family, around Nicki and Dom had tried to teach his son that there was a line between work and family. There was a time and place to be closed off, and there was a time and place to be loving. So he didn’t understand how his son had turned out so stone cold.

“Tom, you have an important event coming up and I was hoping you’d take Y/N” Dom ignored the way his son tensed. “She hasn’t left the house since she came here days ago” He truly did look up to his father, but sometimes he wondered why.

Dom fiddled with one of the objects Tom kept on his desk. Tom favoured his office, it was secluded, a room that he controlled who could come in and out of and one that he preferred to spend most of his days in.

Tom shrugged, wanting to try and end the conversation as quickly as possible but with his father, he knew that this could be as long or as short as he desired. “She can leave anytime she wants.”

“With what, Thomas? A car?” Dom knew he was right, the poor girl didn’t have any sorts of transportation, despite Tom probably owning one or more too many cars. “Take her out, get to know her and who knows, maybe you’ll hit it off”

“What happens then? We live happily ever after like you and mum?” Dom flinched slightly as Tom stood up, smacking his hands down on the desk. “News flash, father, Y/N and I were forced together because of a stupid contract that we couldn’t worm ourselves out of, you and Mom fell in love”

“This girl is really making an impression isn’t she?” The tension in the room was unreal and it made Dom nod because in one way or another, you were getting to Tom. Whether it was frustrating him beyond the point of acceptance or slowly making your way into his heart. “What’s going to happen when we need someone to take over the mob? This job was given to you, Tom. Not Sam or Harry. It’s your job to keep it going, don’t forget that I can replace you with one of them with the snap of my fingers.”

“We’re not talking about kids-”

“You had years to prepare yourself for this, boy. Years to sleep around and do whatever the hell you wanted but it’s real now, You can either accept her and make this girl a part of your life or pretend that she doesn’t exist, make her just another person under your roof and live a miserable life.” He stopped there, deciding that it was too soon to tell Tom about the other part of the contract.

“I’ll take her to the event, but don’t expect us to be in love by tomorrow… or at all”

“You tell me this now, boy, but I give up a few months and you’ll be on your knees for her”

Tom simply rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the cold coffee he’d had sitting in his office for the last hour and grimaced. He didn’t fall to his knees for anyone. Dom on the other hand, felt elated. It was early days but he could already see his plan working, the same one that’d been years in the making.

“If it isn’t the troublemaker”

You spun around, placing the cereal box down and facing Harrison. He wore a cocky smirk, one that reminded you oddly of Tom. Tom, you hadn’t seen him in days. “Ahh, it’s the sidekick, nice to see you again”

You walked out of the kitchen, heading over to the couch in the living room that only seemed to be bigger than your previous home..“If we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other you may as well call me Harrison”

“We’ll see, I don’t expect to be here for long” You placed a spoon in your bowl and sat next to Harrison on the couch. You looked up to see that he was watching Magic Mike and snickered.

He faced you, pausing the movie. “What? Wanna see the real thing?”

You’d gotten used to his playful banter over the last few days, often brushing past him in the living room that still managed to blow your mind. It was an elegant room with two grey couches, large flat screen tv and a coffee table. There were, of course, a few other accents that you haven't paid too much attention too yet.

“Go for it” You knew it was a joke, this was merely a conversation with a flirty undertone, nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t hard to tell that Harrison was fit underneath his clothing, the boy was like a walking god.

“I think Tom would snap my neck if I did that, he’s very protective over what’s his”

You stopped your movements, screwing up your face when Harrison labelled you as Tom’s as if you were nothing but an object. Harrison said it as if it were nothing. It made you angry, an emotion that you was far too common at this point. Placing your half-eaten bowl of cereal on the table, you turn towards him.

“I’m not his, I never will be”

Harrison noticed your sudden anger and twisted his eyebrows. “I mean, you are his wife and in his books-”

“His books are irrelevant” The movie was now forgotten as you tried to forget what Harrison had just said.

“Whose books are irrelevant?” A new voice said, both of you looked towards the door to see Tom leaning against it, making Harrison stand up but you stayed seated. Toms' eyes bored into the two of you accusingly and you couldn’t deny the shiver that ran through you. He still frightened you, but still, your walls stayed up.

You asked yourself how much he’d heard, whether or not he actually thought of you as his and if he’d really snap Harrison's neck if he made a move, but still, a remark fell from your lips.

“Does it matter?” Tom found your sarcasm almost inviting, nodding his head at Harrison who got up, giving you a curt nod before walking out, leaving you alone with the same person that you’d been trying to ignore for days, not so unbeknownst to you he’d been dodging you too.

You definitely didn’t hate Harrison, he seemed like a fun person to be around and you could only ask yourself how he got himself situated with Tom.

“What’ve you been up too, princess?” You shrugged, ignoring his gaze. “I have something to ask you”

Your eyes widened, mouth drying up because god he could want anything from you and chances were that he could get it. Who knew that after your antics the other day you’d be straight back at square one, stuttering and flustering under his gaze.

Being alone with Tom wasn’t like how it was three days ago. Then, you wanted to get on his nerves but now, you didn’t want to push your luck.

“I have an event coming up in two days and according to my father, I need a date”

Of course, he needs to play happy families. “Why don’t you ask one of your other women?”

“Sweetpea, you’re my only lady” You rolled your eyes, not falling for his words. He surely had a line of woman at the door, waiting for his instructions and you refused to be one of the ones that’d fall to their knees for him.

“What if I don’t want to go?”

You noticed how the red and black striped shirt hugged his muscles, the shirt tightening whenever he tensed. Tom was surely attractive, beyond that even but he was also terrifying, alarming and sent bundles of nerves down your spine when he so much as glanced at you the wrong way.

“Then you can sit here and moop all you like, I’m not stopping you but I thought you’d like to go out”

Every fibre of your body was screaming at you to say no, to refuse his offer and walk out but there was a part of you that was bored beyond comparison. You missed human interaction, but these people were probably dangerous. You missed having fun and letting go, but would Tom let you let go?

“Aren’t the people there going to be dangerous?” Tom smiled cheekily, knowing that you were debating actually attending with him. “Besides what will I wear? I didn’t exactly get to bring a large range of clothing with me”

“Darling, no one will even think of messing with you considering you’ll stick with me.” The other question was no issue for him. “I can get you a dress in time, don’t stress” He found that amusing, that you thought someone would try and mess with what was his.

You nodded, still unsure if this was the right thing but you needed this, a little time to socialize and get out of the house.

“Where is this event?”

Deciding not to answer that question yet, Tom simply shook his head, already picturing the type of dress he wanted you in. “If you knew, you’d back out and I can’t have that”

Before you could question why he wouldn’t tell you or why that cocky smirk returned to his face, the door opened and a small dog came bounding in, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she ran to Tom.

Tom seemed delighted to see her, getting down on his knees and petting her head to which you stepped back slowly, thinking that if this was Tom’s dog then was probably anything but nice to strangers.

“Hey sweet pea, I missed you” He coed. “Darling, this is Tessa” Tom watched as your eyes widened and you stepped behind him slowly. It wasn’t that you disliked dogs, no, you were just on edge about dogs that you hadn’t met before.

“Does she bite?” The dog sat in front of Tom instead of bearing its teeth and you relaxed slightly. Quite frankly she was adorable, the little grey Staffy lifted its tail, wagging it back and forth slightly.

“Tessa? Oh god, no,” he laughed, kneeling down to his dog and patting her head. She immediately began licking his face, her tail wagging excitedly as she tried to tackle her owner. “She’s the softest dog you’ll ever meet”

You couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from your lips as he smiled and spoke in a soft baby voice to his dog, but you hid it with a sarcastic comment. “Who knew Tom Holland had a soft spot for dogs, hmm?”

He went from cocky and sarcastic to soft in the span of only a few seconds, all because of a dog?

Tom tensed slightly when he heard your giggle, but he didn’t tense out of fear of being caught in a moment so few close to him ever saw. No, Tom tensed because he’d heard your laugh and liked it. “One dog, princess, I have a soft spot for one dog. She’s the only girl in my life”

The smile fell from your face when he said that, which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom as he continued to play with his dog.

“I thought you said five minutes ago that i was your only lady?” The line was nothing but a joke, a cocky remark but Tom thought otherwise.

“Is someone jealous?”

Scoffing, You get down on your knees, slowly reaching a hand out which the dog sniffed for a moment before plopping her head down, waiting for a pat which you gladly gave her. She seemed to like it too, rolling over and sticking her tongue out of her mouth happily. “Don’t think ahead of yourself, Holland, I still despise you”

Let me know what YOU want to read, I thrive on feedback/ideas

Part 4!

@barnsism @trashqueenbitch @gab-spidey @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @peterparkerdeservesbetter @ambrosmar @calmdownyall @xxxxdelenaxxxx @deadlyaffairs @stop-wonder-think @thollandtrash @butcanyoujustimagine @leni-lion-luke-larb-logic @highladyjel @study-at-the-disco @r-i-d-g-e-s @giuliavxox @dreams-in-different-colours @spideynblackcat @vividcelestia @okayypotato @unknxwn-intrxvert @highkeymood @tra2embrel shqueenbitch @imahuricane @thefanbasewhore @lyssilinn @thebittygirl @spn-worm @theamuz @hollandsmuse @theromanmockingbird @revivalbenito @asfaraslifegets @avahodge @eternallovers65 @rosecoloredshawn @spoofagoofonyou @soldmysoultofandomshelp @wintersoldierbaby @lizzie-143 @laucontrerasv @heavydartysoul @noakantor14 @themegatron1999 @galcxykisscd @majestichoechlin @yellow--inlove @fragcc @chasingsuperheroes @petersunderroos @letrashailen @eclecticbooktaster @hiccups-are-better @bubbles1642 @lydiasobrien @qtest-trash @carrotsunshine @ccold-as-ice @friedwhisperstheorist @moopai @naria-hime @dafnouche @ellebella1238 @ashram12 @jasxn-txdd-8-14 @laucontrerasv @lovee-roaslie @anytimebitches @teenage-book-lover @faangirl101 @bored-green @curlshawnholland @tryn25 @xx-fandom-potato-xx @lowkeyspideyyy @fandomnerdsarecool @fvckjamesbarnes @taylorjrs13 @cthoodaf @modern-day-citrus-cowboy @hellodarknessmysweetfriend @hailhydrabarnes @overdramatic-teen @spideyboiiiiiiii @baileyxrudesalx @briefzipperapricotbagel @parker-underoos @officialchainreaction @aubreylovesthegames @shipitliketheussenterprise @your-1up-girl @peterparkerstolemyheart @dej-okay @0hanx @all-my-friends-are-german @captain-loki-xavier @teenwolfsdream @hazydespair @rosecoloredyelyah @shipitliketheussenterprise @death-gives-free-hugs

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merryfortune · 6 years

Text

tagged by @coco-chip and that tag caused a glitch on mobile where apparently I was logged in as you but with my blog title. weird.

this got super long so its going under a cut

1) If you could live anywhere what would your ideal house/cabin/apartment/etc look like?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this because I’m a uni student with House Lust(tm) but I would like to live in a house on the south coast in a small town. It’s two storeys and on stilts so there’s space underneath to store shit. It’s kinda pastel and nautical and filled to the brim with eclectic shit I own. I would love to own of those neon tube “psychic” hands. Do you know what I mean? There was on in Stranger Things. Also, a space I can put a small altar and have a table i can dress with lace and beads and crystals. That’d be nice.

2) What exotic animal would you pet if you were allowed to and it was guaranteed the animal could not harm you?

I want one of those genetically enginered domestic cats but they have the DNA of big cats in them. I hear they like 22k to get.I would request Snow Leopard DNA.

3) Would you rather be able to breathe underwater and live under the sea or be able to survive in space conditions and be able to travel the galaxy freely?

Yeet, the ocean. I’m afraid of outer space.

4) If you could master one basic housekeeping skill (ex: sewing, cooking, cleaning, plumbing, repairing) with nothing more than a snap of your fingers, which would you choose and why?

Plumbing because I fucking hate festy sinks, basins, and toilets.

5) What would be your perfect sandwich if you could put any ingredients you want inside it?

Oh I have the perfect sandwich quite frequently: chicken tenders, guacamole, honey mustard sauce, capsicum, tasty cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, jalapenos, and beetroot.

6) What is the best drink to have with a bag of chips?

Coke. Just regular coke.

7) Which is better movie food? Popcorn or Nachos?

whomst eats nachos as a movie food? turn your location on. i just have some questions. So, popcorn duh? But can’t beat a choc top but a choc top ain’t one of the options.

8) What is the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?

Zombie Dora....................

9) What is a song that you enjoy that doesn’t fit your usual music tastes (for example if you’re a fan of k-pop you have one metal screamo song you love)?

I was singing fucking church hymns yesterday so I’m going to say “A Lamp Unto My Feet” (aaaand a light unto myyyyy path) but I actually am super soft for Christian rock and other types of music so perhaps........ Barbie Tingz by Nicki Minaj

10) Would you rather be a robot or be a ghost?

Ghost bitch.

11) What video game have you played recently and enjoyed?

uuhhhhhhhhhhhh i;ve been playing Fire Emblem Shadows of Valentia and I’m.... not having as much as fun as I did the first time round since its flaws in writing female characters are really evident to me but just grinding and shit, yeah that’s fun

#personal #tag meme #these were really fun questions thanks jay

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askmissthunder · 6 years

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Happy (Belated) Halloween, everybody!

I've always been honest with you all during my posts and this one will be no exception. When Cassie (Red Rabbit) asked if I wanted to go to the Halloween party on campus this year, I... wanted to say "No."

I know that sounds very odd considering how much I love Halloween but...I really didn't want to have to be in the same room with my main tormentors, Samantha Crestfield and her little toadies, Bianca Haywood and Nicki Beltran. As you can probably guess, they're the other flutists in my class and they love to point out how fat I am, about how lazy and stupid I am, about...

*sigh*

Anyway, I deal with them enough everyday at school and when I told Cassie I didn't want to go during one of our lunch breaks, she put on those big sad puppy-dog eyes and frowned.

"But why?", Cassie pouted, "We had a lot of fun last year! You ended up going anyway so why not be there from the start?"

"Yes but...that was kind of an accident. Eli and I never intended to go to the party. You guys moved it to the park because there was no more room here, remember?"

Cassie crossed her arms over her chest, "Well, why don't you want to go?"

I twiddled my fingers nervously, lowering my gaze. "....You know why."

She gave me an irritated look. "No, I don't. What's the matter? Don't say you can't find a costume because you had that cute witch costume last year!"

I only gave a half-hearted mumble.

"Pardon?"

Clearing my throat, I spoke in a louder voice. "....She's going to be there."

Cassie shrugged, "Who's 'she'?"

I could feel my eyes well up. "Y'know.....Samantha..."

Cassie's face softened as she let out a sad sigh. "Oh, Penny."

I could feel myself breathing in quick gasps as my heart started racing. Whatever annoyance I had towards Cassie and the situation in general just spilled out of me. I could envision in my mind Samantha's angry, spiteful eyes, glaring at me. The way her friends laugh in that mocking way. Just that Godawful feeling of having to be trapped in class with them every day and there was nothing I could do about it.

"I don't want to be there with her, all right?! I don't want to hear her stupid voice and her stupid little put downs all night long! I can't...I don't want to, Cass. Bad enough I have to put up with her in school....I can't...."

She walked towards me and wrapped her arms around me as best as she could. "Hey, hey, hey, Penn. Just settle down for a moment, all right?"

I tried my best to calm myself but it was rather hard considering how much effort I was trying not to start sobbing in public.

She took a seat close to my wheelchair and held my hand. "Look, I'm sorry that girl gives you such a hard time. She shouldn't be doing that and I know it really really sucks but.... you can't let her win like this."

I wiped my eyes, a bit confused, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, look at what she's making you do: She's made it where you don't want to go out with us because of her. What was it that you said she told you last week? That 'you don't belong here' ?"

I gave a curt nod but hearing that come out of Cassie's mouth felt like a punch to the gut.

"Well, Penny....I'd hate to say this but....you're kinda proving her right. You not coming to the party, where literally EVERYBODY in school is invited. To me, that's basically telling her, 'You're right, I don't belong there.' "

I kept my head down where she couldn't see the stray tear come down my cheek.

Cassie continued, her voice rising in tone as if she were getting outraged for me.

"And I know you don't like being with a ton of people, with big crowds. I'm not asking you to be the belle of the ball, Penny, but....maybe coming out with us can show Samantha that you do belong out there. That she doesn't get to have any say about what you do. She doesn't get to say jack shit about how you want to have fun on your time and dime! And if you just so happen to bump into each other and she starts giving you some bullshit about being in her space? Fuck her! You get in her face and tell her to fuck right off! I mean, what's she gonna do? Slap you? I've seen you take shotgun blasts point blank to the face. Some little asshole trying to throw her weight around shouldn't even phase you!"

I didn't say anything but I knew that Cassie was right but it was hard to explain to her why I haven't come down harder on Samantha. Honestly? It was mainly fear. Not because of what Samantha could do to me but rather, what I could do to her if I lost my temper to the point that I just snap and....

Well, I don't like to think about it.

But not only that, it was also what I've been been taught by my classmates throughout all my school years: that I deserved to be made fun of. I'm fat, I'm a nerd, I like classical music too much. Why shouldn't I be picked on? I'm different, they're not. It's just the Law of the School Jungle, right?

I assume Cassie could probably sense the negative feelings radiating off of me as she lowered her voice again. "Look, just come with us and I'll promise you, Samantha and her little jerk squad won't give you a hard time. If they do, you got me, Eli, Talon and my whole dance team there to chase them off. We'll make sure you have the best time ever, okay?"

I wiped my eyes with my napkin as I looked up at her with a smile. How can I say no to hanging out with such an entourage?

"Okay."

......................................................................................

Now we come to a new dilemma: I had no costume for this year.

Oh, I was lucky last year that I happened to have one of my Nan's black dresses laying around but the rest of her wardrobe she loaned me seemed rather...like something an old lady would wear. (No offense, Nana!) I did have some of her Circus Fat Lady costumes (I use them as pajamas sometimes) but they showed quite a bit more skin that I was comfortable with, especially in public.

And I'm pretty sure that I don't have to tell you that they don't exactly make, well, anything for a girl my size. I couldn't just go to the costume store and pick something off the shelf.

I was in bit of a mental pickle as Cassie and I lounged around on the carpet of her flat a week and a half before Halloween, doing some homework. Eli was also hanging out with us, having just gotten out of training and skimming through one of my X-Factor comics while lounging against my right hip.

As we wrapped up one last algebra problem, Cassie chirped up, "So, any ideas for a costume yet?"

I plopped my head on the floor and groaned.

She giggled, "I take it that's a 'no' then."

I looked back towards Eli as best as I could, "Sweetie, what do you want to be for Halloween?"

"Hmm? Me?", he asked, a surprised tone to his voice.

He tapped his chin, "Well, I'd like to be something where I could let my tail out in public again. Maybe we can be puppy dogs?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of the two of us dressed up in fuzzy pajamas with our noses painted, yipping at passersby. "I'm not sure about that, E. Cute idea, though."

He bounced the back of his head against my fat as he pondered. "Hmm...What was that movie we watched the other day? 'Bride of Frankanstan'? Maybe we can go as those two monsters."

Cassie let out a loud gasp, grinning like she won the lottery. "That's it! You two should go as a couple!"

Eli tilted his head at her, "We already are going as a couple. Going as a random boyfriend and girlfriend seems kind of against the whole point of wearing a spooky costume."

"No, no, no! I mean going as a costume couple like Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein or Bonnie and Clyde or Romeo and Juliet!"

I could feel Eli's tail wag against me as he sat up. "Oh! Like if Penny and me went dressed up like Robin Hood and Marian?"

Cassie nodded excitedly, "Yes! Exactly that!"

The thought of dressing up as a couple did seem pretty neat. It brought up one idea to mind as I spoke up, "There is one couple I kinda wanted to dress up as..."

"Who?", Eli and Cassie both asked in unison.

"...Beauty and the Beast."

Cassie let out an even sharper gasp as she clasped her hands over her mouth. "Oh my God! That would be so, so CUTE! I love it!"

I blushed and lowered my gaze, 'Well, I don't know. It was just an idea. I'm pretty sure I'd look like a giant banana in a yellow gown."

"Are you kidding?! You'd look gorgeous! I can see it in my mind right now! You as Belle in the sparkling gown, Eli, looking dashing in a blue coat and fake horns on his head! Oh, you two would look so adorable!"

"I'd like to be the Beast!", Eli chimed in with a smile, "He looked pretty cool how he fought off those wolves and Gaston!"

I sighed, knowing that there was no backing out now. "That'd be lovely and all but where am I gonna get a dress like that in my size?"

With a grin like a Cheshire Cat, Cassie replied, "Oh, you leave that to me! I've got somebody in mind."

True to her word, the next day, Cassie brought Joanie, one of her dance mates and aspiring fashion designer, to my flat. When we showed her the dress we wanted to make for me, I was afraid that she might balk at the idea of making a costume for someone my size. Instead, she rubbed her hands and chuckled, "Ooh! You know how I love a challenge, Cass!"

As we talked about the design of Belle's dress, I was getting a bit nervous as I knew that Joanie would have to take my measurements. I've tried to avoid knowing exactly just how large I've become since getting my powers but there would be no getting around this.

"Okay, Penny", Joanie stated, pulling out several measuring tapes from her purse, "Let me get your numbers so I can see how much fabric I'm gonna be working with."

I let her and Cassie "help" me up to my feet. Despite seeing just how enormous I was in front of her, Joanie barely batted an eye as she dutifully went about her business, orbiting around me like a moon to a planet. Thankfully, she didn't say the numbers aloud, instead writing them down on a small notepad. After she was done, morbid curiosity got the better of me as I couldn't help but sneak a peek at what she wrote down while Cassie had her distracted with dancing to a new song on the radio. I could literally feel the blood drain from my face as I gazed at the numbers. I won't repeat them here but my bust-waist-hips measurements were all in the triple digits.

It wouldn't be until a few days before the party before Cassie and I saw Joanie again as she practically spent day and night working on the dress. She arrived at my door, looked rather haggard with her hair unbrushed and circles under her eyes but she had the biggest grin on her face as she hauled in a large box nearly too big for my doorway.

"It's done!", she said almost manically as she pushed the box to the center of my living room, "At long last, it's done!"

Cassie gave a bit of a nervous laugh, "You okay, Joan?"

"Never better! I've been running on nothing but coffee and jelly beans for the last 24 hours!", she yelled, her eye twitching wildly. "Excuse me for a moment!"

She then fell face down on my couch with a loud thud. Cassie and I grew concerned as she was completely still but we each breathed a sigh of relief as we heard her start to snore loudly.

"Well, let's take it out!", Cassie exclaimed as she pried the lid of the box which was stuffed to the gills with bright, glittery yellow fabric, poofing out like a package of Jiffy Pop.

I pulled it out gently, unfurling it in all its splendor. It must've been the size of a circus tent to wee Cassie but it looked to be just about my size as I held it up against my body.

Cassie let out a small gasp. "Oh, Penny! That's lovely! Just look at that!"

I carried the dress to my full-length mirror and saw that Joanie had really outdone herself as it looked like a true copy of the dress onscreen. Every ruffle, every stitch looked exact albeit tailored to accommodate my mega-sized curves.

I asked Cassie to help me try it on. Thankfully, Joanie was fast asleep as Cassie's one of the few people I trust to see me in my knickers. I'll admit not even Eli has that privilege. Not yet, at least.

After a lot of tucking and squeezing and shimmying, we managed to get the dress on. It was a little snug around the belly when I sat down but otherwise, it was a near-perfect fit! Even the yellow opera gloves fit me like, well, a glove!

I pulled my hair back as I trotted to my mirror, hoping to get an idea of what the finished costume would look like. I hesitated for a moment before stepping in front of the reflection, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself before I took the plunge.

As I stepped lightly in front of the mirror, a startled gasp escaped from my mouth. I was too used to seeing mousy, average Penny staring back at that reflection. Instead, I saw a girl not ready for a Halloween party but for an elegant ball, ready to wow everybody in attendance. I saw a girl who knew just what to say at parties, who could charm a potential suitor or entertain a group with delightful stories.

In my wonderment, I clasped my hands over my mouth as a steady stream of tears fell down my cheeks. Cassie must've clearly saw this as she quickly rushed over and placed a gentle hand on my side.

"Penny, what's wrong?", she asked, her voice strong with concern.

I could only stammer out, nearly to the point of weeping, "Cass....look. I...I...I look...like a princess...."

Cassie let out a short relieved laugh as she hugged me tight. We stood in silence, both basking in the aura I felt I was giving off.

My gasp must've roused Joanie as she stirred on the couch, picking her head up slightly. "Oh, wow!", she uttered sleepily, smiling as if in a daze. Not caring about keeping my identity a secret at that moment, I quickly moved towards her and held her hand.

"Thank you. Thank you so much..."

She must've been too tired to notice how fast I had just moved as she only grinned up at me, her eyes unfocused. "Happy to be of service, your Highness."

.......................................................................................

The night of the party, we had all agreed to meet up at the campus dance studio to put the final touches on our costumes, mainly because of the giant mirrors. I was delighted to see that the girls in Cassie's dance team were inspired by my costume and decided to all go as Disney characters!

There was:

Amanda as Cinderella

Stacey as Snow White

Karen as Alice

Tamika as Aurora

Deb as Cruella De Ville

Lailani as Malificent

Joanie as Ariel ("No offense, Penny, but I needed something simple to dress up as after all that work")

Cassie, always the performer, showed off her Tinkerbell costume in a spectacular way, doing a quick series of gymnastic cartwheels before landing on a mat on one knee.

"Ehh, I'd give it a 7", Stacey joked, "A bit wobbily on that landing."

"Bullshit!" Cassie pouted, "That was at least an 8.5! The wings threw me off!"

Cassie had certainly picked out the perfect costume as it showed off her body: petite, toned and lean from years of dancing and super-speed running.

As Karen helped put the finishing touches on my makeup, we heard a knock at the studio door. In walked Eli, who was covering his eyes with his hands.

"Is...is everybody decent?", he asked timidly.

"No, we're all in our bras and panties having a big pillow fight!", Deb teased.

Eli gasped and was about to run out before we all called for him to come back. He looked very flustered as he stepped in the room, straightening his coat.

While Joanie was busy with my dress, Tamika and Karen had worked together to make Eli's Beast costume. It was the formal attire the Beast wore during the big ballroom scene in the movie with a blue coat with gold trim, a gold vest with white dress shirt and black pants.

To complete the the more beastly aspects, Eli had asked one of the makeup artists from his work to paint his face. Whoever they were, they went above and beyond just painting his eyes and nose, like I assumed. Instead, his entire face was painted the same colors as the Beast with a set of fake fangs poking out of his mouth to complete the look.

He wore a headband with two dark horns attached along with a long brown wig complete with a blue bow for the ponytail. A pair of fake furry paws were slipped over his shoes and, of course, his (normally black-furred but I guessed they either painted or dyed it a light brown) tail poked out of a hole in the back of his pants.

"Oh my!", I said, perhaps gushing a bit as I lightly fanned myself. What can I say? I'm used to seeing Eli wearing just a t-shirt and blue jeans so seeing him in such fancy duds got my heart pumping a bit.

Eli, on the other hand, froze on the spot when he saw me. I was in my wheelchair, still wearing my glasses but also wearing my sparkling yellow gown with my hair up exactly like Belle's, not to mention wearing makeup for once so I perhaps looked a bit more presentable than usual.

"Penny!", he exclaimed as headed in my direction, "You...you look amazing! You look just like Belle!"

I could hear all the girls in the room go "Awwww!" as Eli held my hands, smiling as if he's seeing me for the first time.

"Aw, thank you, luv.", I say, pulling him in for a well-deserved kiss on the cheek. "I thought about losing the glasses but, y'know..........secret identity."

With our costumes juuuuuuust right, we made our way towards the party's outdoor entrance.

We knew the party was gonna be big but we hadn't expected to see such a vast stream of people entering the room. The fog machines must've been working overtime as a a nearly solid wall of mist obscured the doorway. It looked spooky as the partiers seemed to vanish before our very eyes.

Before we got too close, a sudden mental alert popped in my mind. "Oi! Cass!", I yelled over the din of the crowd, "Isn't Talon supposed to be with us?"

Cassie groaned, "I knew it! I knew I forgot something! Oh, she's gonna be pissed at us!"

"You did tell her we were meeting up at the studio, right?", Amanda asked, straightening her gloves.

"Nooooo....", Cassie admitted sheepishly, "I kinda told her we were meeting at the entrance last week. Meeting at the studio was sort of last-second..."

"Well, there's a payphone down by the cafeteria", Lailani suggested, "Maybe you can call to see if she went back home."

"Here's hoping...", Cassie sighed. She stopped in her tracks as a tall silhouette lumbered from the shadows. It being a Halloween party, a few scary costumes are to be expected but Cassie was a bit startled to see Jason Voorhees, hockey mask, machete and all, making a slow beeline towards her.

"Who's that?", she asked, a bit of fear in her voice.

Jason stopped in front of her, pulled up his mask to reveal Talon with a rare Mona Lisa-esque smile on her lips. "Hey."

Cassie laughed, more out of relief than anything, "Oh, jeez, T! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry, I'm late. I had some...'business' to attend to. Some guy in an alley trying to take advantage of a girl with too much to drink."

"Wow!", Deb exclaimed, "Great costume! The fake blood on that machete looks so real!"

"Yeah....'fake'....", Talon mumbled.

Karen did a happy twirl, "Great! Everybody's here now! Are you ready to party?!"

We all cheered in response, except Talon who only did a half-hearted fist pump, as we headed towards the entrance and disappeared into the foggy veil.

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The entire ballroom was massive, lit with both Jack O' Lanterns of all shapes and sizes, and swirling, blinking, flashing disco lights everywhere. Sparkling bats and spiders hung from the ceiling, glistening from the lights. Ghosts made of sheets and fabric dangled off the walls, and in the dim lighting, it gave the illusion they were passing through like Shadowcat. A DJ dressed as a skeleton was spinning tracks up on a stage while partiers wearing all sorts of costumes boogied on the dance floor while others chatted and mingled, drinking punch and soda and munching on finger foods.

"Oh man!", Cassie yelled over the music, "This place is bumpin'! Come on, girls! Let's get some snacks before we tear up that dance floor!"

As we all grabbed some plates, Eli and I marveled at the specially made treats laid out in front of us: Deviled eggs shaped like eyeballs, cocktail weenies wrapped in crescent rolls to look like mummies, ghosts made out of white chocolate-covered strawberries.

"Ooh hoo!", Eli exclaimed with child-like glee, "Look at all the creepy food!"

Before I could even dig in, an all-too familiar voice emerged over the music.

"Aw, shit. Everybody better get some food now before a certain little piggy eats it all!"

I could feel my pulse speed up as I slowly turned to see Samantha, dressed as Marilyn Monroe, standing behind me with a contemptuous smirk. As always, Bianca and Nicki were by her side, dressed up as Cleopatra and a witch.

Samantha looked me up and down in mild disgust. "Heh. What are you supposed to be, Piggy? A giant tub of butter?"

"Nah!", Bianca chimed in, "She has to be a taxi cab! She's about the size of one. anyway!"

"No, no! I got it! Piggy's dressing up as the Blob! Hell, it doesn't even have to be Halloween for her to dress up as that!", Nicki giggled, puffing up her cheeks to make herself look fatter.

I could hear Eli start to growl at them, lowering his gaze and bearing his teeth. I started to mentally panic, not only at being taunted by these three yet again but there was a good chance Eli would just straight up murder them by accident if pushed too far. There was a bit of me that wanted that but knew it in my heart that it was the wrong thing to do.

Thankfully, Cassie quickly came between us. "Eli! How about you you take Penny to get some punch? It's really good!"

Begrudgingly, Eli did as he was told, glaring at the trio the entire time as he pushed my wheel chair towards the punch bowl. While we were away from Samantha, I could still faintly hear the conversation between her and Cassie.

"Is there a problem?', Cassie said in a calm voice.

Samantha shook her head, "No, no problem. Except the giant fat-ass about to inhale all the food."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want Piggy to ruin the party although she did manage to roll her sweaty blubber all the way over here.", Bianca stated nonchalantly, gazing at her nails.

Cassie crossed her arms, "There's plenty of snacks for everybody. And her name is Penny. Something you three would know if you actually tried to treat her like a human being."

Nicki scoffed. "A human being?! Look at her! She's a freak! She barely fits anywhere during band practice because she's so fucking fat! She can't even walk! She's literally like a giant pile of pudding stuffed in a bag!"

I could see Cassie clench her fists but she remained still. Her dance friends must've heard the confrontation as they quickly came to her side.

"Something going on here?", Karen asked, her tone much more serious than her usual perky voice.

"Well, I thought I was talking to some ladies from Penny's music class. Turns out I was talking to three assholes instead!", Cassie growled.

Samantha stepped in front of Cassie, their faces nearly touching. "What'd you say, you flat-chested slut?"

Stacey stood by Cassie's side, "You heard her, you little snot! What the fuck is your problem?! Why do you have to act like a bunch of little shits to Penny?!"

"I don't have to justify myself to you, bitch! I'm just doing everybody in class a favor in telling her off! She comes in late all the time because of her stupid 'condition', she has the audacity to be in MY flute section and she makes our orchestra look like a joke with her disgusting flabby body filling up so much space!"

"Pssh! Is that all?", Tamika interrupted, "I though it was maybe because she stole your boyfriend or something. Lord knows he wouldn't want to hang around you all day!"

"Nobody's talking to you, ho!", Bianca yelled, "So why don't you zip your little hood mouth? Grown folks are talking!"

Amanda raised her fist in her friend's defense, about to rush the trio before being held back by Deb and Joanie.

Perhaps sensing that my friends were not going to take their insults lightly and that the dance team outnumbered the flutes by 8 to 3, Samantha started to walk away.

"Come on, girls! I don't want to hang around these losers any longer than I have to! Besides, it wouldn't look good for us to be seen with a dance team that only got second place in competition, would it?"

A volley of middle fingers fired out between the two groups of girls as the flutists strutted away. As the dancers made sure there was enough distance between us, they all immediately flocked to my side.

"Are you alright, Penny?", Lailani asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine...", I mumbled, embarrassed that the girls had to be on the receiving end of Samantha's venomous disdain.

"Jesus Christ, Penny!", Joanie cried out, "You really have to be with those three everyday? I don't know how you do it!"

"If I knew, you'd be the first to know...", I thought glumly.

.................................................................................

Cassie spun around and saw Talon at the snack bar, filling up two plates full of food. "Tal!", she yelled out.

"Hmm?", Talon replied, not taking her eyes off her plates.

"What are you doing?!", Cassie hissed out, "We could've used your help earlier!"

The tall girl bit into a small ham sandwich. "I'm eating. I didn't have lunch today."

She piled on a few more sandwiches on her plate. "Do you think they'll complain if I take this to go?"

"Did you not see Penny getting picked on by her bullies?!"

Talon nodded, "I saw. She shouldn't let them talk to her like that. That's why they act so bad. Because Penny never speaks up, they'll figure they can get away with it every time."

"I know that but-"

"I'm sure Penny appreciates you girls coming to her rescue and all but you can't fight all her battles for her. She needs to learn how to stand on her own two feet. Relatively speaking, that is."

Cassie sighed wearily, "You're right but I don't know how to help her with that."

Talon shrugged, "I wouldn't worry too much. Penny's a big girl. She'll figure it out eventually."

...............................................................................

Despite the festivities and lively music playing all around me, I sat in my wheelchair, stewing in my thoughts. Days and weeks and months of insults and ugly glares were all that came to mind.

Hell, it was only a couple days ago that I accidentally bumped into Nikki while taking my spot during rehearsal. "Oops! Sorry about that!", I said a bit sheepishly.

Of course, she couldn't just let it go. She had to knock my sheet music out of my stand, glaring at me the entire time. "Oops. Sorry about that. Fucking lard-ass."

"Aw, did poor little Piggy drop her notes?", I heard Bianca speak from the other side of me. As she bent down to pick them up, I foolishly presumed that there was some part of her that didn't despise me. Then she spat on them as she handed them back.

"Aren't you gonna tell Bianca 'thank you' for picking up your music, Piggy?", Samantha asked, as she took her seat. "I mean, she took the time to spit-shine them clean for you."

I could feel that all-too familiar sensation of panic and dread overtake me, silencing my voice for me as I wiped my notes with the sleeve of my shirt. I saw that everyone around us could clearly see or hear what had just happened and yet, they did nothing. As usual.

Samantha scoffed, "Ungrateful bitch."

It was only when I heard the faint tone of Cassie's voice that I snapped out of memory lane.

"Huh?", I said, remembering that I was still at the party.

"I said, we're all gonna hit the dance floor! You wanna come with?"

I looked at Eli next to me, who seemed excited to show off his "moves" again, nearly hopping up and down in place.

I sigh with a smile, "How can I say no to that face? Let's go."

Both Eli and Cassie hopped on the back of my chair as I rolled towards the dance floor.

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Dancing seemed to be just what the doctor ordered as it definitely lifted my spirits. I'm sure everyone else at the party were weirded out or in stunned awe by the gigantically fat girl dressed as Belle rolling around on the dance floor in a wheelchair nearly the size of a golf cart. But if they were, I hardly even noticed it as Cassie, Eli and the dance team were always in my line of sight, blocking any ugly glares or finger pointing.

Eli certainly danced like no one was watching as he twirled and shimmied through the dance floor, clearly having the time of his life. Even though they were dressed as Disney ladies, I nearly forgot that Cassie's friends were a dance team as they all moved with such precision and grace, looking like a group of nymphs and dryads, mesmerizing all who witnessed their sacred dances.

And then there was me.

Being stuck in a wheelchair to keep everybody from knowing Miss Thunder was a student here, there wasn't a whole lot I could do other than but jerk my wheelchair's controls, making me bounce and wobble to the beat. Sometimes I spiced things up by spinning in a circle. But the girls must've noticed that my dance moves were severely limited as Cassie and Joanie locked hands with me to do a "pop and lock".

Eli came and took my hands, guiding me in a similar dance from last year, "spinning" me around and doing a type of square dance as we moved back and forth in a line. It wasn't long before the girls joined us in our dance, making us look like some type of Disney Dance Squad.

Talon, meanwhile, only watched us from afar with a bemused expression on her face. While I've always felt uneasy around crowds due to my size, Talon looked especially uncomfortable being around so many people. Cassie and Lailani went up to her during a transition between songs, all smiles and giggles.

"Come on, Talon! Dance with us!", Cassie laughed, beckoning her to follow them.

"No.", Talon said sternly.

"Please, Talon? We just want you to have a good time!", Lailani pleaded.

"I am having a good time. I have free food.", the tall girl replied, popping a grape in her mouth for emphasis. "Besides, I don't dance."

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Suddenly, a loud "OH HO HO HOOOOOOOOOOOOO" blasted from the speakers, signalling the beginning of the song "Kung Fu Fighting".

"Well, then.", Cassie said with an idea brewing in her mind, "If you don't dance, can you fight?"

"...Pardon?"

"If you don't want to dance, maybe you can show us some of your katas?", Cassie asked, striking a karate pose.

Talon was silent for moment before trudging towards the rest of the group, sighing out of exasperation. Eli and I smiled at one another in excitement, eager to see what Talon might do. Cassie fluttered around us, telling us to give her space with a gleeful grin.

The Native girl did a respectful martial art bow before launching into a series of quick strikes and kicks. The crowd started to take notice as the moves become more and more complex with the punches became powerful uppercuts and the kicks turning into spinning roundhouses. She went further with her techniques, adding both front and back flips. I couldn't help but notice that some of her moves looked....rather painful with some of her strikes having gouging, twisting and tearing motions.

By now, the crowd was cheering at the spectacle of a tall, beefy Native American girl dressed as Jason Voorhees doing advanced martial arts in the middle of the dance floor. One poor drunken frat boy made the foolish attempt to "fight" with her only to accidentally run face first into her boot as she did a high kick, knocking him flat on his back. Talon only glared at him as Amanda and Stacey dragged him away from the danger zone. This only made the crowd cheer louder, ecstatic to see some action.

As the song ended, Talon immediately stopped, pulled down her mask, did a quick bow and swiftly dropped a smoke bomb onto the floor. Those nearby all coughed and waved the smoke away, only to see that Talon had disappeared.

"Where'd she go?", Eli asked, trying to sniff her out.

I waved him down, "Leave her be. I think she's had enough social interaction for one night."

I knew how she might've felt. I can only handle being out and about as Penny for so long before wanting to retreat back to the isolation of my flat.

We continued dancing for what felt like hours, boogieing the night away but eventually, I started to feel a bit sweaty coming from a combination of dancing and wearing a big poofy dress. I tugged on Cassie's fake wings to grab her attention.

"I'm gonna head outside for a bit and get some fresh air."

Cassie smiled back, "All right, babe! We're gonna get some more food and we'll meet up with you!"

As Eli accompanied the girls to the snack bar, I rolled myself outside onto a nearby grassy knoll, breathing in that crisp night air. I looked up to see that a nearly full moon shining brightly above the Ocean City skyline. Even though it must've been past midnight, I could still hear the laughter of children and families engaging in Halloween festivities throughout the nearby neighborhoods.

"All in all", I mused to myself, "It wasn't that bad a night."

I might have well as thought "What could possibly go wrong?" with such a fate-tempting line.

"Awww, did your friends leave their little pet whale outside?", Bianca said from behind, followed by a chorus of harsh cackling.

The trio staggered out in front of me, holding each other up with half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah, what's the matter? Did they get tired of lugging you around?" Nicki snarked, taking a swig from her red party cup.

"H...hey, girls...", I stammered, trying my best not to give away how much I wanted to bolt. Even if I did, my wheelchair wouldn't have moved fast enough to outrun them, tipsy as they might be.

Samantha leaned towards me, placing a hand on my shoulder, perhaps to keep herself up. "Piggy, Piggy, Piggy. What are we going to do about you?"

Bianca picked up the bottom of my gown and grabbed a hold of my foot. "Heh! All I know is this little Piggy should go 'Wee Wee Wee!' all the way home. We don't want her scaring all the kids."

"I think I saw a mudhole by the baseball field! Why don't we give Piggy an escort home?", Nicki sneered as she oinked mockingly at me.

The girls howled with laughter as they lurched behind me and attempted to push me forward. They didn't get very far as they were too buzzed and well, I was too heavy. That, and I might have put on the brakes on my wheelchair.

"Fucking Christ, Piggy!" Nicki huffed, "How much does your fat ass weigh?! Five tons?!"

"How the fuck does your boyfriend move you around?", Bianca cursed, her feet slipping in the grass.

Samantha put her back into it and managed to move me by a quarter-inch. "Hey *oof!* what's the deal with *huff!* you and him? *wheeze!* Is he retarded or something?"

The world seemed to freeze as I heard that. I finally felt an emotion in that moment that wasn't terror or anxious panic. It was anger.

"He has to be if he's going out with her! Who else but a retard would go out with a frickin' blimp?!", Bianca spat out.

That was the final straw.

I took a deep breath and turned off my brakes, letting all three girls crash to the ground as I suddenly jolted the chair forward.

"Look here, you bloody pieces of dried-up slug vomit.", I said, in angry yet quiet voice, "Make fun of me all you want but don't you ever, EVER insult my boyfriend."

Samantha managed to climb to her feet after a few moments of struggle. "Well! Look who finally decided to grow a backbone! What are you gonna do about it, honey? Your fat sausage legs can't even lift you up! You're just some...some fat....waste of space who shouldn't even be allowed to go outside! Why don't you go back to stupid England or wherever bumfuck country you're from and just go have a heart attack?! Just fucking get the fuck out of my flute section!"

I lowered my gaze. "Heh. Tough talk....from little Miss Future Second Chair."

"..........What?"

Popping my neck, I cleared my throat. "Well, I know because of all my tardies, Professor Mitra suspended me from running for First Chair for the first half of the semester. But the first half is already over and I believe the Holiday Recital is coming up. And I believe that means a new First Chair tryout is coming up as well."

"Wha...What are you saying?", Samantha sputtered out, a nervous laugh in her voice.

I patted my belly, making sure it gave a good jiggle. "All I'm saying is you better get used to seeing all this blubber between you and the audience! Hmm...I wonder if I can get Eli to help me get a bit heftier. That way, if I'm bigger, the audience doesn't even have to be reduced to seeing three nasty little hellspawn attempting to play the flute!"

The look on Samantha's face dropped all pretenses of mirth as she charged at me, pulling her fist back and yelling like a banshee.

A large hand lashed out from behind Samantha and grabbed her arm, yanking it hard behind her back in an awkward position. She gave a great cry of pain as I could hear a barely audible *crack*. Turning her head, she gasped as she saw Jason Voorhees glaring at her through the hockey mask.

Lifting the mask up, Talon scowled, her face nearly an inch away from Samantha's.

"Leave. My friend. Alone."

Talon tossed Samantha free, who after a moment's panicked hesitation, swiftly turned tail and ran off into the night, back towards the dormitories.

Bianca didn't have to be told twice as she bolted to her feet in fear and ran after Samantha. Nicki, however, proved to be made of more sturdier stuff as she punched Talon behind the back. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!", she screamed.

Talon had hardly even flinched from her jab and slowly turned around, her eyes unnaturally wide. She took a sudden step forward towards Nicki, causing the remaining bully to promptly attempt to get the hell out of there but a certain Beast stood in her way. Eli let out a true animalistic growl as he spat out his fake fangs, showing her a true set of fangs which looked rather unsettling as he had two pairs of canines on his top jaw.

Nicki only trembled as Eli leaned closer and snarled out in a low voice. "Get out."

She shrieked and ran away, flailing her arms wildly. Most people leaving the party hardly paid her any mind as they probably assumed she was just another drunk girl who was really into the spirit of the holiday.

It felt like an eternity before my mind registered what had just happened: I just told off the three girls who seemed dedicated to making my life hell. Not only that, I had enraged my main tormentor to the point that she actually tried to attack me. While I was worried that Samantha and Nicki could try to press charges against Talon and Eli, they only scared/used weird ninja techniques to defend me. Not to mention, as I looked back towards the entrance, I had eight witnesses that could testify on their behalf.

Cassie and her dance friends (I guess I can officially call them "my friends" now) all stood with their jaws dropped, not out of horrified shock but out of celebratory awe. They all whooped and hollered as they ran towards me.

"That's how you do it, Penny!", Cassie cheered, hopping up and down in excitement.

"D...did you hear...everything I said?", I asked, a little embarrassed.

Tamika nodded, "We certainly heard you call them ' dried-up pieces of slug vomit'. Very British of you, I must say."

"Yeah, I just would've called them 'motherfuckers' but your way was more classy!", Deb added.

Despite the immense pride I was feeling from my personal victory, I felt that I had enough excitement for one night and told the girls I was ready to go home. Cassie and Talon offered to walk Eli and I back to my flat, just in the off chance Samantha and her cronies regained their composure and tried to egg us or something of that nature. We waved goodbye to the Dance girls as they headed back to their dorms.

"Eli?", I spoke up as we walked.

He leaned closer to me, "Yes, Penny?"

Seeing my chance, I gave him a peck on the cheek.

His face turned bashful but smiled, "What was that for?"

"To say thank you for coming to my rescue."

If he wasn't wearing so much makeup, I'm sure he would be blushing.

"Anytime, Penny. Anytime."

I looked up towards Talon, who was just moseying along in front of us, looking at the decorations.

“You too, Talon. Thank you.”

“I don’t want a kiss.”, she said stoically, looking over her shoulder, “But.....you’re welcome.”

Thankfully, there was no last minute ambush as the walk back was very pleasant. It reminded me of last year when Eli and I explored the city streets, gazing at all the spooky sights and sounds. However, with it being as late as it was, there were far less people, letting us soak in the 'City in Autumn' aesthetic with pumpkins and fallen leaves decorating the sidewalks.

When we arrived at my flat, I offered everyone a cup of hot cider to shake off that brisk fall air. After all that time sitting in my wheelchair, it felt great to finally stand up on my feet and move about. As I made my way to the kitchen, I couldn't help but stop by my mirror again. Taking off my glasses, I smiled at the girl in the reflection. Perhaps for the first time, I felt actually impressed with myself as Penny.

"This is the start of something new, lass.", I said quietly to myself. On the way home, I had worried what would happen between my and my bullies the next time during rehearsal but the more I thought about it, the more I realized Cassie was right. I can't hide from them forever but now, I hope they realize that I won't be their easy punching bag anymore. I'm a grown-up now and it's time I started acting like one. At least, when it comes to standing up for myself.

After filling up four mugs with sweet, steamy goodness, I headed back to the living room only to find that the lights were off with the sole exception of my spinning disco ball, flooding the room with swirling lights. Talon took the mug I gave her as Cassie tried to show Eli some dance moves to a disco song on the radio. Eli, never one to go along with the crowd, only followed Cassie's steps for so long before he just started doing his own thing, doing some type of cross between a Russian dance and the Robot.

As the song ended and Otis Redding's "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" started, Eli held out his hand towards me. "May I have this dance?", he asked.

I gave a soft gasp as I realized this would be Eli and I's first true dance together and not the usual spinning back and forth we do with my wheelchair. As I took his hand, I realized it must've looked odd to Cassie and Talon to see a enormous Belle dancing with a small Beast rather than vice-versa.

We tried to remember the dance scene in the movie as Eli placed his hand on my vast hip as he held my other hand aloft. His hands were tiny compared to mine but he didn't seem to mind as he held onto my thick fingers tightly. Given my size, it was rather hard for him to lead me in the dance, but I let him guide me as best as he could, making sure I didn't step on his toes.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Cassie dash to my CD collection and rummage through my selection. Her eyes lit up as she found what she was looking for and held up my copy of the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack to my line of vision. I nodded excitedly as she popped it in my stereo. Eli and I kept swaying in silence until we heard THE song.

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"Tale as old as time...", Angela Lansbury's sweet voice sang out as Eli guided me towards the center of my living room. We both curtsied towards each other as we resumed dancing. As we twirled and waltzed, my flat seemed to disappear as I imagined us both in a beautiful ballroom in an enchanted castle. No bullies. Nobody there to mock or belittle us. Just me and Eli, my handsome prince.

As we danced, Talon tapped Cassie on the shoulder, whose eyes were watery with joy, seeing two of her dearest friends get the fairy tale dance they've waited so long for.

"I think we should let them have their moment.", she whispered to the shorter girl, nudging her head towards the door.

Cassie wanted to protest but knew that she was right as they both crept quietly to the door. I looked up for a brief moment to see Cassie poking her head in and giving a silent wave. I waved back with my free hand as the door slowly shut behind them.

As the final notes of the song started playing, I gently lifted Eli up to my eye level. Without missing a beat, we shared a passionate kiss as he hugged me as tight as he could.

"I love you, Penny.", he whispered softly in my ear.

I could no longer hold back the waterworks as I started weeping. Just hearing those wonderful words that I thought for so long that I didn't deserve.

"I love you too, Eli."

We kissed again, knowing that this would be a Halloween we would never forget.

(OOC: I’d like to thank theatomicavenger for their hard work on this outstanding drawing.)

#happy halloween #I hoped everyone had a fun spooky time #ask miss thunder #also fair warning but there's quite a bit more cursing and insults in this post than usual so be careful reading this at work

2 notes · View notes

pkmlesbian · 7 years

Note

for the ask game, 1, 7, 8, 12-15, 17, 19, 24, 25! :)))

omfg thank u so much!! under cut b/c of length

1. Name one way you break the wlw stereotype. (Fat, trans, poc, autistic, etc)

i’m asian american! and i have at least 1 mental illness!

7. Do you participate in LGBTQ clubs and events?

YES !!!! and it makes me super happy that i can now that im in college and get to hang out w my peeps at lgbt center!!

8. Are you out to anyone outside of tumblr?

yee a bunch of ppl from hs (including one teacher), ppl at lgbt center, one acquaintance at school not from lgbt center and one random older guy who interviewed me lmao

12. How would you describe the difference between sun lesbians and moon lesbians?

omfg dont ask me this. sun lesbians like the sun— bright/pastel/flower aesthetics probably. and moon lesbians like the moon so cool/relaxed/chill aesthetics i guess. im a moon lesbian and i have a moon necklace to prove it

13. What’s your favorite song about lesbians?

GIRLS! LIKE! GIRLS! LIKE! BOYYYS… DO! NOTHING NEW! and also she keeps me warm by mary lambert :’) and also get away by the internet

14. What’s your favorite book about lesbians?

ok so: empress of the world was the first wlw book i read before i realized i liked girls so that has a special place in my heart. dare me by megan abbott isn’t explicitly lesbian but it’s 2 girls in love and it’s dark and beautiful! and FUN HOME how could i forget omfg. and roller girl by vanessa north which i got for free online is adorable and sweet and wonderful!!

15. Who’s your favorite lesbian character?

UGH SO MANY AGAIN obvsly poussey washington, my favorite girl ever. but also wil from saving face because i relate to her as a fellow Awkward Closeted & Terrified chinese american premed lesbian on a very deep level. also i love nicky and suzanne and big boo from oitnb too. and ryuuko from kill la kill is so cute i love her

17. If you could meet one famous wlw (dead or alive) who would you pick?

SAMIRA WILEY. I LOVE HER SO MUCH YOU DONT UNDERSTAND but also alison bechdel and rhea butcher + cameron esposito!!!

19. Do you have any favorite wlw positivity blogs?

yesss @help-mywife is super cute, also @closetedlesbianopinions and @closetedsapphicopinions are absolutely wonderful, and @closetedlesbianthoughts and @allthingssapphic i help run so im a bit biased ;)

24. Describe your ideal gaycation (a vacation that you, a gay, go on)

oooh i’d love to go to mexico! or argentina or colombia. anywhere in latin america would be cool. also i really want to go to korea and japan and singapore. and ideally if i had a gf we could go together that’d be really cool and honestly the ultimate gaycation. doesnt matter where as long as ur with ppl u love :)

25. Not a question, I just want you to know that you’re amazing and beautiful and I love you. Keep up the good work.

I LOVE YOU TOO!!!

#sapphee #asks

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/77806700

Chapter 62

The next morning, Nick was still clingy. “Good morning, my King. Did you sleep well in your new home?”, he whispered while hugging him. He was also rubbing his cheek against Arthur's shoulder, tickling the other man a bit. “Fantastic”, Arthur approved. “Just fantastic. And the morning sun”, he gestured towards the window, “I missed that too.” “It's much more comfy than a tunnel, right?” Nick's voice was soft as silk and he kept hugging. Arthur kissed his forehead, then he gently attempted to shove him away. “Nicky...why don't we try out your kitchen today? I wanna see if you have another coffee monster lurking in there that needs to be tamed.” “Hmmm...”, Nick said, “The monster is me.” “Then we better go feed you.” Nick slowly let go of Arthur, who noticed his lover was trying his best to look happy but his expression was rather bittersweet. It didn't take long until Nick put an arm around him again.

Side by side, they went all the way to the kitchen. They passed by the manager who gave them a surprised look. Arthur was almost blushing, but they quickly said good morning and went their ways. The kitchen was cleaner than it had been the first time Arthur had seen it. No dirty dishes in the sink and someone had dusted the place up. Nick pointed at the coffee machine. “There it is. Try your luck, my King.” Arthur figured this was easier. However, when the liquid ran out, he realized he had forgotten to put a cup underneath it and backed away from the hot splash. “Ouch! Goddamnit! No, no, no...!” The drink ran down the counter and created a puddle on the floor tiles. “Sorry...” Arthur turned around and was surprised to find his lover laughing out loud. Looking back at the mess, he couldn't help but to laugh with him. It was the first time this morning that Nick looked happy, and his laughter was enchanting.

When they started wiping up the puddle together, the door opened and Brad came in. “You having fun in here?” He eyed the scene. “Oh, hi Arthur.” “Good morning”, Arthur said shyly. “Busy reporting the news, huh?” Brad sounded rather bitter. “What news?” Then Matt came in. “Hi Arthur.” He looked from Arthur to Nick and Nick saw him draw the conclusion. “Nick”, Matt asked afterwards, “Can I have a word with you?” “Uh”. Nick glanced at Arthur who made a puzzled nod. “Sure.” He got up and followed Matt outside, bracing himself for a storm. In the living room, he leaned against the wall and eyed his friend who seemed to search for words. “Do you have any shame?”, he brought out. “What? Can't I have guests anymore?” “Guests?”, his friend snapped. “You're lying into my face! Arthur was the one you betrayed Morrie with! You spent days with him and we were joking about it! How long did you betray him?” “Sssh, quiet,” Nick hissed. “He doesn't know about Morrie.” “Oh, great! You better go and tell him then!”, Matt shouted. “Sssh, Matt, please, leave this to me!”, Nick whispered begging. “I can't believe it! You...” Matt made a fist. Nick braced himself for a punch. But Matt lowered his hand again – and his voice. “He's just another poor soul you're playing with!” “No, listen, I'm not playing, I love him!” Matt gave an upset gasp. “And Morrie? You used him because it was convenient? You heartless piece of...!” “No, I love him too!” Matt grimaced.

“Listen, I know it sounds funny, but...” “Funny?”, his friend spat. “It sounds fucked up! And it look awful! You spend the night with Morrie, he dies, you come back full of blood and instead of mourning like a true lover you bring the next playmate home!” “Matt, he's not a playmate and I do mourn!” “Really?” Matt lifted his brow. “Sounded more like laughter to me. You have a weird way of crying.” “I had one pleasant moment after a horrible day and you...” “Oh, you poor thing! One 'horrible' day of mourning for a year long friend! Are you sure one playmate is enough to repair your broken heart?” Now Nick raised his fist. “Say that one more time...” “Oh, now you're protective!”, Matt teased him. “If only Morrie had received your protective instinct! He'd still be alive!” That was too much for Nick. He jumped at Matt and threw him on the ground. Matt punched back, and soon they were rolling on the floor. The noise alerted Chris who ran in and stepped between the two. “Are you crazy? This won't bring him back!” Because neither of them wanted to hurt Chris, they stopped. Nick kneeled on the floor and started sobbing while Matt got up, his expression sour. “I'm done with you!”, he yelled at Nick and went out. Chris watched him leave and then pulled Nick up. “Come, let's get out of here...”, he said. “Great timing, really. Making that fuss while the reporter is here...” “He's a friend...”, Nick sobbed. “Sure...but he'd suck at his job if he wouldn't turn that into a story.” “Let me talk to him.” “Like that? No way, man!” But Nick escaped him and went back into the kitchen. Both Brad and Arthur sat at the table and gave him a startled look.

“Arthur”, Nick said wiping his eyes dry, “do you have a minute?” Both men exchanged glances, then Arthur went with Nick. Nick insisted to flee into his bedroom and then he clung to Arthur again. “I'm sorry about Morrie Memento. I had no idea...”, Arthur whispered. “I found him in the morning when I went back home.” “Oh god, I'm sorry...” “Now they think it was me...I touched Morrie, because in my panic I tried to shake him awake and then I was all bloody when they brought me home...” Arthur shook his head. “When I saw what they did to Kitty, I wondered if they were even human.” Nick cried as an answer. “Nicky, that'd be another reason to leave...” “But Arthur, I can't just abandon them...as long as they don't hate me, I'll stay.” Arthur sighed. “Were you talking about me? I think I heard you say my name.” Nick began to pat his hair. “They thought you were here to...put salt into the wounds, I guess. Create a big story about Morrie's...holiday.” “Is that why you were fighting?” “We're upset, all of us...”, Nick said quietly. “I should apologize to Matt.” “Later”, Arthur said and kissed Nick's cheek.

“Arthur?”, Nick whispered. “Yes, Nick?” “Could you do me a...big favour?” “Huh...perhaps? What is it?” “You're still a reporter, right?” “Yeah?” “And you were at the party?” “Oh, I forgot about that. I recall we had our own party.” Arthur was happy to see Nick smile at least faintly. “Could you...write a piece about it? Say that it all went smashing and no one was hurt?” “Uh...I guess...” “Please.” “It's actually about time I get something done...” Arthur crawled out of the bed. Nick busied himself gathering papers and pencils for his lover and put them all on the desk. “There you go. You need something else? A drink maybe?” “Uh...water would do, thanks.” Nick grimaced. “Water? You're not in jail.” “But everything you gave me so far made me lose my mind.” “Are you sure it was the drink?”, Nick purred and massaged Arthur's shoulders. “If not, there's no hope for me...”, Arthur sighed and stretched himself. “Water, please.” “Alright.” Nick shrugged and made his way to the bar to get the mineral water.

On the way, he met Virgil. Nick only muttered a greeting and then went to the counter. Virgil followed him and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Let me see”, he said. Nick turned around and showed him the bottle of soda he had in his hands. Virgil however inspected Nick's face. “Any bruises?” “No...”, Nick said. “You know Matt, he doesn't hit very hard...I'm fine.” Virgil relaxed and leaned against the counter. “So...Arthur's the one, huh?” Nick put the bottle down. “Yes...and I've been with him all night, so at least he knows that I'm not a killer.” A pause ensued. “How long do you know him?” “You too?”, Nick protested. “You never cared about my relationships and that made you very pleasant to talk to!” Virgil made a face. “I was more interested in how good you know that reporter.” “I know him good enough.” “Was he really with you all the time?” “Yeah...I guess so...I had him like that...” He held up his arms the way he had held Arthur and tried a smile. Virgil remained pondering. “What do you mean? Are you suspecting Arthur now?” Nick was shocked. “I'm trying to make sense out of things. And he wouldn't be the first bad egg you trusted. I feel that there's something off about him.” “Don't call him that!”, Nick blurted out. “He's just shy, that's all! And if you all make him feel like he's off, it's no wonder he's acting weird!” Virgil crossed his arms. “So, I'm not the only one who suspects him? Interesting.” Nick turned away and rolled his eyes. “Morrie was doubting him. The others like him.” “Morrie, huh?” Virgil took a deep meaningful breath. “Did you ask him what he thought in detail?” Nick noticed this conversation was going the wrong way. He should've bitten his tongue. “No”, he said coolly. “I think he was jealous.” “Well, he wasn't wrong, wasn't he?” Nick span back to his manager. “For Christ's sake, Virgil! That doesn't make Arthur a killer! I'm sure it's not one of us, I've probably never seen the guy! Or the girl! I have a lot of jealous fans, they're all suspicious! It's too easy to suspect Arthur instead! You should be smarter than this!” Virgil didn't answer. He quietly walked away, deep in thoughts. Nick could only hope that he drew the right conclusions. He came back to Arthur with the bottle in his hands.

“I'm sorry it took me so long, my King. Virgil held me back”, he said while serving his lover the drink. “There you go.” He patted Arthur's shoulder and looked at the paper that was filled with small handwriting. “Thank you. I'm almost done”, Arthur explained and took a sip from the soda. “A few statements from you should spice it up, if you don't mind.” “No, not at all!” Nick pulled over a chair and sat down next to him. They worked on the text and Nick was very happy that his lover was such a talented writer. “Alright, that should do it”, Arthur finally concluded. “Together with the photos I took it should be enough to make this look like the most smashing happening ever.” “Oh, Arthur!” Nick fell into his arms. “You're a life saviour, literally!” He ruffled and kissed the pretty black hair. Arthur answered with pulling him down for a deeper kiss. After that, Arthur collected the sheets. “I have to hand this in now.” Nick followed him to the door and blew kisses when he walked away. Arthur shyly waved. He was both embarrassed and flattered. Nick seemed to fully accept him now and didn't hide his affection.

Nick watched Arthur until he disappeared behind a block of houses. Then he stood in the corridor, not knowing what to do with himself when suddenly he heard a noise in the kitchen. He hesitated, not eager to have another fight with one of his friends. On the other hand, he wanted to know what they thought about Arthur and if they were okay with him moving in. If not, he had to convince them. So he went into the kitchen and was surprised by finding a woman in a black and white dress. “Sally?” Sally was huffing and puffing as if she ran all the way to here. “Hey, how're you doing? I haven't heard from you since...” He stopped. Oh... “Hi, Nick. I'm sorry for not coming by sooner. I really forgot the time while I was working on some... new specials. How are you doing?” “Great! Actually, I should tell you something...uh...it's nothing personal...” Sally's heart sunk. Fantastic! Now he'd tell her that he didn't want her around anymore and if she wanted help she better asked her other special friends... “I stopped taking party favors.” Sally needed a moment to process this. “Really?”, she then blurted out, relieved. “Yeah, I'm sorry....I really loved your stuff, but hey, the band is here, perhaps they'd like something...” He left the kitchen and Sally hurried after him. “Wait, Nick, I'm not here for party favors.” “No?” Nick eyed her. Then he came closer. “What else would you want from the Lightbearer?” Sally ran a finger along his arm. “I miss a song...It was so special to me but I can't find it anymore...It's the Unicorn Song. It's not on the market anymore but I thought you might still have a record.” Nick smiled. “Baby, who needs a record?” He began to sing the song to her and started to dance with her around the room. She joined his singing and danced with him until both broke out in laughter. Sally applauded him and he made an elegant bow. “This is even better than the original! What do you think? Fancy joining the band?” “Oh, no, rather not, I sound like a dying cat.” “But a cute dying cat.” She laughed and gasped. “Please, do you have a record of this? I really need this song.” “No problem. I think it's in my lair.”

They went into the dressing room that gave Nick a rather weird feeling in the stomach. Only a day and a few ours ago, everything had been still okay. With a fake smile, he opened the entrance to his lair. “Ladie's first.” They wandered along, passing by the massive statues of himself. He tried not to look at the spot where he had sat and cried. He found the record amongst other old records from his past. “There it is.” Suddenly, it was very precious to him, too. Morrie was on it. That was why he hesitated to hand it over. “Thank you so much, Nick! You don't know how much this means to me!” Sally looked at the record as if it was the most precious thing in the world. It comforted Nick. At least Morrie was in good hands. They way she looked made him ask: “If you need anything else...” She fumbled with her dress, as if she didn't know what to say, thinking. “You don't happen to have cod liver oil somewhere?” “Cod liver oil?” Nick had forgotten that stuff existed. “What do you need that for?” “It's for...a new formula...It's the last ingredient I need...and it looks like it's sold out in every store...” Her eyes rested on him. “Well, I don't remember having it but I don't mind looking. After all, I have all sorts of substances.” He winked and she brightened up. Sally didn't believe he had cod liver oil, but by now, she was clutching at every straw she could find. First, they examined the bar in the lair but there was no oil. Next, they turned his kitchen upside down. Despite the gravity of the situation, Sally couldn't help but joke around with Nick during their search. Nick's kitchen was full of clobber that didn't belong there...or in any decent household in general. It was during another laughing fit that suddenly Arthur Hastings entered the scene, looking at her and Nick in disbelief.

“Arthur”, both Nick and Sally said at the same time and they made an effort to enlarge the distance between each other. “Look who's here”, Nick added brightly. “I see...”, Arthur replied less happily. “Hi, Sally.” “Hi, Arthur...Nick is helping me to get...uh...an ingredient...” “Yeah, she needs cod liver oil. You don't happen to have some in your stash?” “Cod liver oil? No, I don't think anybody has...” Sally's face fell. “What are you up to?” Arthur eyed her. Sally crossed her arms behind her back. “I...would you believe me if I told you that this is very important to me?” “Perhaps”, Arthur shrugged. “I don't know.” Sally then leaned against the counter, eyeing the floor tiles. “I actually know who has cod liver oil”, she confessed.” “Great, Let's go there then!” “It's in the Haworth Labs...and I'm like...persona non grata there...” “Everyone is”, Arthur protested. “It's insane to even go near there without permission!” “You could go in disguise....but I can't show my face around there, they'll recognise me anyway...” “Well, that's...bad for you...”, Arthur said, not liking this conversation one bit.

“You think one could get in with a press pass?”, Nick continued to make it worse for Arthur. “Yeah..., that would work.” Sally lightened up. “And you'd need someone who's good with words.” She darted a glance at Arthur. “Hey! Hey, stop, everyone calm down!” Arthur held up his hands. “I know what you're implying, but no one of us will set foot into Haworth Labs! It's fucking suicide!” “Arthur”, Nick stepped forward. “We're her friends.” “You're also her...friend?” He turned to Sally. “Who's not your friend? Don't you know someone who's fitting better for this kind of mission? A soldier maybe, or a martial arts professional?” “Well, Arthur, you're quite the good fighter”, Nick countered. “You really want to send me there?” “Not alone, dummy! I'll come with you.” “You? Nick, you can't hurt a fly! And anyway, what would be your disguise? You're not a reporter!” “But I have a press pass!” “What? Why?” “I...well, borrowed it from one of your colleagues I guess. I figured it's useful to have one.” Arthur stared at Nick. “You'd still have to defend yourself.” “Don't you remember the headboy? I can help myself just fine.” “That was mere luck!” “That and my strong arms! Anyway, do you think there are actual fighters in the lab? They're only scientists! We sneak in, grab the oil and get out without anyone noticing us! It's gonna be fun!” Also Sally began to look surprised, but she beamed at Nick and then turned back to Arthur, who's level of despair increased.

“You watched too many movies! In reality, nothing works out the way you think!” “That's why you'll figure out the plan, because you have all the experience and I'll do what you say.” Arthur looked at him helplessly. “Please, Arthur”, Sally stepped in. “I'll pay you back. I can get you that letter of transit.” “I already have that.” “Really?” Sally eyed the floor again. Arthur now felt sorry for her. Nick seemed to feel so, too. “Why can't we do this for her? We are her friends.” “We're not her only friends, trust me.” “But she asked us!” “No, you! I came here by accident.” “Right, and I even owe her one, for everything she did for me. If you don't want to come with me, I'll go alone!” Nick crossed his arms. “If you want to kill yourself, go on.” “Arthur, please!” Nick made puppy eyes. Also Sally. Arthur felt cornered. “Fine!”, he blurted out. “But if anything goes wrong, we'll escape, cod liver oil or not!” “Thank you”, Sally said and her fingers touched his arm. Arthur's gloomy look rested at her and she let go.

When Nick went out of the kitchen later, he ran into Virgil again, who wanted to talk to him. Nick wasn't very keen on hearing more accusations, but he went along. In his room, Virgil shut the door and then turned to Nick. “Could you...give me one of your Joy pills?” “What do you need it for?” Nick didn't like the idea of giving even one of them away. Virgil scratched his neck. “Well...I don't...feel alright...Your Joy seems to make you happier then the regular Joy, so I thought...I could borrow one just this once...” Promptly, seeing Virgil sad made him feel sorry and it won against his suspicion. “Hey, no problem”, he said and held out a handful of pills to him. “There you go. I want my dear manager to be happy again.” Virgil opened his hand and Nick let the black pills fall into it. “I forgot you miss Morrie too...I'm so selfish.” “Sssh”, Virgil held a finger close to Nick's lips. “You're upset too. Don't beat yourself up about it.” Nick cracked him a thankful smile. “Get well, Virgil...if you need more, just ask me...” Virgil returned the smile and opened his arms. Nick didn't hesitate to dash into them.

#wehappyfew #we happy few #whf #nick lightbearer #whf nick #nicklightbearer #nick x arthur #arthur hastings we happy few #whfarthurhastings #nickxarthur #whf arthur #whfarthur

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

To the Good Place We Go (p.1)

part one! hope u like this crossover. hopefully it makes sense???

I read @gluupor‘s hilarious Good Place au and wanted to have a crack at my own! note to gluupor, i’ve changed things around a bit but thanks for the idea!

link to their the good place au here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782301

part two here: http://jemejem.tumblr.com/post/182518336942/to-the-good-place-we-go

Dan was having the worst day.

And this was the Good Place. She wasn’t supposed to have bad days. She’d spent her life trying to wade through misgivings and a lack of opportunities: Now she was dead, and she was supposed to be happy—forever!

Instead, she was staring at her living room, which was on fire, and wondered what the frick she did to deserve such bullshirt.

Neil—always, Neil—pointed at Kevin. “He did it.”

“Dan, I’m so sorry—“ Matthew Boyd begged. “I tried to get them to stop yelling, but Kevin fell back onto a candle and so Andrew went to get water to put it out, but he thought it’d be funny to pour Vodka instead—How he got Vodka, I don’t know—“

“It was me!” Nicky cheerfully chirped from the corner.

“And so Kevin was really on fire, so Allison asked Nicky to turn on the sprinklers, but not before she could ask for an umbrella, but she never specified which sprinklers, so whilst your garden is currently being nicely watered, Kevin’s whole ass is exposed and your living room is a mess!” He wore his pathetic puppy eyes, and whilst he’d been pestering her to go on a date (“We’re soulmates, Dan! Think about it! We could be happy together, forever, if you just listened to me—Hey! Where are you going—!”) He was seemingly sincere.

Kevin was sitting in a bucket of ice, teeth chattering. Neil was laying on the sofa, grinning up at Andrew, who smoked lazily. Dan hoped he hadn’t used Kevin’s fire catastrophe to light his cigarette, but knowing Andrew, he probably had.

“Oh, dear.” Renee said, softly, from Dan’s side.

Here’s how this all started:

Dan got into the Good Place. Wymack, the ever-present, genderless guardian of their neighbourhood who used he and him pronouns, F0X35, had greeted her at her initiation. She’d died in a brawl outside a strip club, her strip club. She knew she’d been protecting her fellow stage sister, but couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in the Good Place.

“Sex isn’t necessarily immoral, Danielle.” Wymack reminded her. “Neither is stripping. And saving your friend’s life with non-violent negotiations—very brave, and very effective!” They sighed. “Such a shame he had to stab you in the back out of fury as you were escorting your friend back inside. Would you like to hear a recording of how he is experiencing the Bad Place? Your friend stabbed him with your murder weapon out of anger.”

“She what?” Dan had blanched. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Don’t you worry.” He huffed, arms flexing as they stood out of his chair. “Welcome to the Good Place, Danielle. Would you like a cup of coffee before Nicky escorts you to your new home?”

“But sir—“

“No buts.” Wymack pointed at her. “Tea, coffee, lemonade or scoot.”

She stood obediently, nodded in thanks and left.

She hadn’t need to worry about her unremarkably neutral life, wherein she’d done just as many shirty things as she had good things, because her soulmate—Matthew Boyd, an overbearing young man with horrifically spiked hair and pouted lips—confessed to her immediately.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He whispered. They were sitting together on her couch: She was in a studio-style house, with a jacuzzi and a large bed. It was sophisticated but not excessive: It was perfect. “I overdosed on drugs at a socialite’s party, with a bunch of rich shirt-heads! Oh, gosh, Wymack’s going to kick me down to the Bad Place, isn’t he?”

“Shh.” Dan hissed. “I was a stripper and totally scammed and stole from all my customers so I could support my aunt and my baby cousin, I wasn’t much better.”

Matt looked relieved. “Oh, thank gosh. I was terrified of having to keep my secret for all of eternity. This must be why we’re soulmates.”

“Because we’re shirty people in disguise.” Dan said dryly. He looked sheepish. “Whatever. Whatever’s happened, it’s probably a mix-up. Do you want to go down to the Bad Place, because I don’t. My killer is there. So keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered.

That was how she’d found out about Matthew. The others had all followed suit: She found Kevin and Neil trying to beat each other up in a secluded spot by the lake, yelling censored profanities at each other and insulting each other with petty accusations.

“You stole Andrew’s whisky!”

Kevin blanched, before scowling furiously. “You were there!”

Dan tore them apart physically then tore into them verbally. By the end they were sullen but quiet, and Dan walked down the lake’s jetty, her heart thudding in her chest. How many of them were frauds? The neighbourhood only had three-hundred and twenty-two of them, and she could count four that definitely didn’t qualify to be there.

Andrew sailed past the jetty she stood on, laying on his back in a little row boat. His eyes were closed, arm thrown lazily over his face. In his hand, he spun a terrifyingly sharp throwing knife.

“Interfere with my things again and I’ll get you kicked out of here.” Andrew floated away, leaving Dan struck silent.

Make that five people.

Eventually, she discovered the rest. Some, on accident: Some, like Kevin and Neil, because of truly stupid and avoidable situations. Some, like Matt and Renee, just came right out with it.

That’s how all ten of them — Allison, because she was ‘deprived of gossip’, Renee, because she was at least somewhat moral, Matt, because Dan couldn’t shake him off her tail, Seth because he was arrogant but not stupid enough to miss this entire sham, Kevin, Andrew and Aaron, because they went everywhere together, Neil because he was like a lost puppy, and Nicky, because someone had called for him—ended up in Dan’s living room and promptly wrecked the place when she’d gone to check the perimeter for nosy neighbours.

She never remembered lighting those candles, anyway.

“Everyone,” She said, barely able to contain her anger. “Shut up. Don’t move. Or so help me, I’ll kill you all.”

“Too late.” Neil harped, before Kevin whacked him over the back of the head and he sulked into the couch.

“We’re going to figure something out, as a group, okay?” She insisted. “Okay?”

They mumbled in assent.

Dan sighed. If all the shirt she’d endured in her short life hadn’t aged her, trying to conceal eight people’s true moral standings so that they wouldn’t be struck from a peaceful afterlife surely would.

Welcome to the forking Good Place.

“Now, Renee, do you understand?”

She nodded. “Ingenious, really, sir.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fortunately for you, Renee, much of your reformation happened whilst on earth. The others didn’t get that chance, so it will take much longer for them to come forward about their true moral standings. You must not tell them that it’s a test, okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. “I hope they succeed.”

This was honest, as Renee stood by honesty: She had confronted Wymack on her first morning, after their introductory seminar in the town square, telling him her true upbringing, her crimes and her regrets. He had smiled with relief and sat her down in his office to explain the truth: A select group were all unqualified for the Good Place, but could earn their spot if dedicated enough. He’d known about her all along.

“I hope you all do.” Wymack confirmed. “This—Middle Place Project—Nicky!”

Nicky popped up from behind the desk, next to Wymack. Renee smiled at him and he waved, curls bouncing. “Yes, sir?”

“From now on, we’re referring to F-0-X-3-5 as MPP, for efficiency purposes, and also to keep it discreet. Also, tick off Renee Walker’s name from MRPFMPPL1.”

“What does that mean?” Renee inquired.

“Moral Rehabilitation Process For Middle Place Project List 1.” Wymack frowned. “That is a bit much, isn’t it. Nicky, change all the MRPFMPPL’s to just Test and whatever number it is.”

“Of course!” And then he disappeared again.

It was an odd thing, the afterlife. And while Renee had placed all her faith in God, she wasn’t disappointed to find a non-denominational place for a peaceful existence after death. Besides, Wymack was practically at the bottom of the chain in regards to omnipotent guardians.

He turned back to her. “Where were we?”

“Discussing the Middle Place Project.” She reminded him. “You were saying you hope we all succeed.”

“Right, right. Well, my superiors think it’s a bad idea. They’re a bit old-fashioned: Everything’s black and white for them: There’s no such thing as second, third, fourth chances, not for lost causes. Sound familiar?”

She nodded.

“We’re working on it, but it’s not your concern. Okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. His words were always soothing, so any unrest she felt was immediately eased.

“Alright, well, that should be everything.” He stood. “Get lost, Walker, and have fun.”

She hesitated by the door. “Wymack?”

He looked up at her from the papers on his desk. They hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Hm?”

“Do you believe in lost causes?”

He paused. A tiny smiled appeared. “Is there anything else worth believing in?”

She beamed and closed the door behind her.

Andrew wasn’t interested in his own wellbeing, but he’d promised Kevin that he wouldn’t let Riko take him down to the Bad Place, and he’d promised to always stand by Aaron’s side. Turns out Walker — not-so-innocent Walker — had beat him in Wymack’s honesty race.

Andrew had planned on telling him about his mother, the four homophobes at the bar, the arson and thievery, the violence. That’d surely get him sent to the Bad Place, where he’d wipe Kevin and Aaron’s names from record and then get to spend the rest of eternity being the Devil’s incarnate, or whatever.

So when Wymack had congratulated him, called his pet robot to strike his name off the list and informed him that it was all a stupid forking test, he’d felt a flicker of rage—towards himself, for not suspecting this.

Then his attention turned elsewhere. “Just me and Walker, right?”

“Correct.” Wymack nodded.

“So can you tell me about Neil?”

Wymack frowned. “What about him?”

“Well, he’s a liar and a threat.” Andrew said, petulantly.

“Is this because he’s your soulmate?” Wymack furrowed his brows. “I understand that with your past, such an intimate proposition might be intimidating, but I assure you that—“

What? Neil, his soulmate?

Irrelevant. Not true. Andrew didn’t have a soul, so how could he have a soulmate? He flung the fleeting idea aside and bludgeoned on. “No, I’m saying that Neil’s a threat to the safety of this whole fricking mission of yours and if you got your stupid fricking omnipotent head out of your frigid ash, you’d see the same. Ash. You know I’m trying to say ash, not ash. Fork.”

Wymack shook his head. “You’re not the boss here, Andrew. Okay? Leave me to worry about these things. Talk to Nicky about talking to someone, wont you? Trauma is best dealt with through professional therapeutic techniques.”

Andrew bristled, standing up.

“Storming out is very immature!” Wymack called.

“Fork you!” He yelled back.

So Wymack had given him a non-discreet warning to leave the problems to him, but since when had Andrew ever obeyed a request, or failed a promise? Never. And he wasn’t going to start now, not even in death. So he decided to take care of Neil himself.

Step one: Intimidate.

Glaring didn’t work. They were all standing around, socialising from behind glasses of champagne. Andrew let his eyes linger on Neil’s lithe form, the high cheekbones. And yet, when Neil noticed Andrew’s heavy stare, he simply rose his eyebrows up as a challenge.

He tried a more tactical method, being, shoving Neil up against a white-and-gold patterned wall in an abandoned corridor—who’s house was this, anyway?—his forearm against Neil’s throat.

“You’re not meant to be here.” He hissed, leaning in close enough that their noses were practically brushing.

“Really?” Neil snapped. “What about you, murderer?”

The accusation slid off Andrew like water off laminated paper, so he bared his teeth and leaned impossibly closer. “All bark, no bite, rabbit.”

“Rabbits don’t bark.” Neil’s lips curled up, ever so slightly.

Andrew shoved off him and made himself scarce.

So. Intimidating didn’t work. He moved onto step two: Investigating.

Nicky was useless, smiling in a way that made Andrew want to pull his teeth out and shove them into his eyes. “I can’t reveal personal information about other residents. I can, however, provide you with a Wikipedia page.”

Neil Josten.

It came up with nothing.

“Thanks for nothing.” He said, dryly.

“You’re welcome!” He beamed, before disappearing again. Good lot of help that was.

So, once again, he upped the theatrics. Nicky, though disapproving, gave him a dozen sachets of cracker dust. It was only a matter of time before Allison hosted another stupid party, as though she was trying to better her parents in the afterlife. Ridiculous.

“A drink?” Nicky offered him. He was deliberately standing by Neil, who was refusing to admit his discomfort and move away. Stubborn little shirt.

“Whisky.” He hooked a finger under Neil’s chin. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

“He’ll get a soda.” Andrew amended.

Neil frowned. “Why are you being nice?”

“Got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we? Wouldn’t want to continue our eternal partnership as soulmates hacking at each others throats, would we?”

The colour drained from Neil’s cheeks. “We’re what?”

Nicky appeared with the two drinks: Andrew intercepted, a sachet ready in his palm, and handed Neil the soda. It was still swirling around its glass when he took a massive gulp, positively shaken by Andrew’s admission.

“You seem shaken, Neil.” Andrew leaned forward. “Didn’t think a monster such as myself could have a soulmate? That’s very hypocritical, if my suspicions about you are correct.”

He drained the glass in an attempt to avoid answering Andrew’s pestering, but he was already wobbling on his feet. A secure arm around the waist kept him upright until they’d found themselves in what looked exactly identical to wherever they were before; Allison’s place was a fucking maze.

“What did you do!” Neil spluttered, furious. Scratching at his skin, his voice became hysterical and breathing became laboured. “I forking swear to gosh, I’ll kill you, I will—“

“What are you doing here, Neil?” Andrew demanded. “Are you from the Bad Place? Trying to drag us all back down there?”

“You think I’m a mole?” He said, incredulous. He was readily turning a putrid shade of green. Andrew wondered if what Nicky gave him was actually cracker dust. Could have been asbestos. cyanide, maybe even ground up Lucky Charms: There was no way of telling. “Are you out of your Gosh-darned mind, you psychotic forking midget?”

He was the midget? Neil was only three inches taller. Andrew leaned into his ear. “Give me one good reason to let you stay, and I’ll back off. Clear?”

“I’m going to be sick.” Neil moaned, shoving weakly at Andrew.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Then he left, leaving a very poorly and bewildered Neil alone. There would always be another day: This was the afterlife, after all. This was eternal.

What he wasn’t expecting was Neil Josten in all his blatant honesty, sitting on the roof of his own house at sunset. He had two cigarettes on hand, offering one to Andrew and looking out wistfully over the rolling fields and fellow neighbour’s abodes.

This house was identical to Cass’s. It was meant to be all his, empty of his old demons and offering only the best memories. If only Andrew’s mind was remotely functional: Then he would be able to isolate the good and the bad, and be able to live in peace under this roof. Except he couldn’t, so he had to stare at a forking muffin tray and think about the time his foster brother forked him half to death.

It’s why he had a hammock drawn up between two trees at the bottom of his garden. He was creating a nice little space for himself, behind a large bush that obstructed the house from view.

“I don’t really know why I’m so terrified of the truth when I’m already dead.” Neil said, thoughtfully. “I suppose I’m scared of meeting my father again if I’m sent down there. He’s the one who killed me, by the way. What am I saying—I know I’ll see him again. He’s my worst nightmare. He’s bad enough that they probably promoted him in anticipation of my arrival.”

“Why are you telling me this.” Andrew said flatly, despite the leap of his heart.

Neil shrugged, eyes cast downwards. “I know you wont turn me in. I don’t know how I know, or why I’m so sure, but I just—“ He waved his hands around. “I don’t forking know.”

Andrew could attest to that. Nodding, they smoked in agreeable silence. What was surprising was the weight of—could it be—guilt? It pressed down on his shoulders, and he hated. So he straightened up, looked right at the sun like he was never able to on Earth, and said; “Truth for truth. This house is a replica of my almost adoptive family’s home. I hate it.”

Neil was looking at him. Andrew hated that too. Why was it, that when they had all of eternity stretched out in front of them, he felt like spilling every secret he’d withheld on Earth? It made no sense. This made no sense. Neil made no sense.

Especially when he said; “So come stay at mine.”

So, yeah. Neil’s strange brand of honesty shocked Andrew enough for him to forget that nothing ever took him by surprise. But only for a moment. And yes, his devastatingly sharp cheekbones and incredibly blue eyes were horrible and Andrew hated every atom of Neil’s being, but he found himself smoking in silence beside the young man and finding it—comfortable.

As far as he knew, it was still just him and Renee who had confronted Wymack. A few weeks had to have passed since, but Andrew had no way of knowing the time or date, so he couldn’t say for sure. What he could say was that Wymack was frustratedly pacing grooves into the carpets of his office, waiting for one of them to step forward and prove their integrity. Neil was a jumble of lies and dead-ends, and the only thing he’d come clean about were his motives for staying in this place.

Neil would be the last to confess to Wymack. Andrew was sure of it.

Which was why, when Neil stood up at a neighbourhood meeting, Andrew’s entire being came to a grinding holt

He had the sun illuminating a red halo from above, the ferocity of his gaze intense and determined.

“I don’t belong here.” Neil admitted, in front of dozens and dozens of people. “I’m not who you think I am, and I don’t belong here.”

Oh, Andrew thought. Fork you, Neil.

hope u enjoyed!

#andreil #the good place au #the good place #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #aftg #david wymack #dan wilds #the foxes #the foxhole court #part one #jem writes

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