#Elodie Christ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holdingart · 1 year

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Playtime

Roach and Elodie try to watch a movie

I am an absolute moron who forgot to actually link the fic I wrote, so here it is AND now you can read it here on Tumblr if you want.

Here's the AO3 link if you'd like to read it there or leave a comment

“Jonny’s gonna be so pissed about this.”

Despite that, the air around Roach had an excited charge. Elodie couldn’t help but think they wanted to get caught, just for the thrill of it.

She switched off the lights to her bike and walked it into the alley behind Hellbender’s. Roach had teased her mercilessly for it, but she refused to bring it inside the store without Jonny’s permission. Breaking into their friend's workplace was one thing, but that didn’t mean she would be rude about it.

“I would be more worried about Mrs. Bender, honestly,” she said as she killed the engine. She flinched when Roach gave her a final squeeze before they hopped off.

“I’ve never met her ‘fore, what’s she like?”

Her mind was buzzing, but she tried to focus on their question. “Practical. The kind of person who wouldn’t tolerate our kind.”

“Free spirits?”

“Aliens,” she corrected. She slid off her bike, already feeling more grounded with it between them. “I cannot imagine her without a wooden spoon in her hand and a cowering priest at her feet.”

Roach leaned forward, eyes wide. “What?”

Her lip twitched as she fought a smile. Mrs. Bender had been a key member of St. George’s two churches, along with every other church, mosque, and temple between the Burrow and Waynesboro, at one point or another. She had a strong mind with stronger opinions on faith and death and morality that challenged the most robust religious leader.

This would inevitably lead to a cataclysmic debate between them and Mrs. Bender, something the leaders looked forward to with the same enthusiasm their predecessors had for the Age of Enlightenment. Afterwards, she would pick up her things and leave; but not after she had integrated herself into every committee and had become the cornerstone of the community. When her new altar buddies and charity drivers couldn’t convince her to stay, more often they would leave with her until she amassed enough bodies to start her own religious movement to challenge the Pope himself. The absolute chaos left behind could destroy a smaller congregation (and probably had).

She was kind of Elodie’s hero.

“She is just a force of personality. Forget I said anything.”

Roach huffed, but didn’t pursue it. Elodie shuffled deeper down the alley where she knew the side door was. A sudden tug at her sleeve nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Christ, how do they do that?!

Roach looked up at her through their blond eyelashes, the picture of innocence. “Where ya goin’? We’re usin’ the front door like always.”

She opened her mouth, ready to snap that they didn’t have a key, before she remembered who she was talking to and closed it. Her body gave a jolt when their fingers brushed against her wrist, and cursed this casket for how responsive it was to every damn touch. In the dark of the alley, the only light shone from Roach’s golden eyes and the occasional glint of their teeth. So it killed her that the only thing she could see with any clarity, was that smugass grin of theirs when they felt her thrumming heartbeat.

They’re going to give me hell for this later, she thought as Roach tugged her along, ignoring how eager she felt at the thought.

Standing at the storefront, Roach finally released her to pat down their pockets. She rubbed her wrist— it felt like it was on from where they touched it— as she tried to piece together the reason for this charade. As Roach turned out their pockets, they seemed to feel her eyes on them, and gave the tiniest of jerks towards the corner of the store. Her eyes followed and immediately understood.

“Oh how embarrassing,” Roach sighed melodramatically. “here I had this whole thing planned and I forgot the dang key.”

She rolled her eyes but played along. “Oh nooo. What should we dooo? Now the evening is ruined.”

“Noo!” They placed a hand to their forehead in a mock faint against the window. “This cannot be!” They snuck a glance at her, but she was quick to cover her face with a hand. She definitely wasn’t hiding from their gaze; it was just that their theatrics were so over-the-top it gave her secondhand embarrassment.

Then she heard Roach snap their fingers. It didn’t sound like it was to get her attention but she peeked anyway. To her relief their gaze wasn’t on her but on the door handle as they jiggled it. A moment later they pushed the door open, and the clattering of the welcome bells greeted the two.

They dusted off their hands with a satisfied look. “We’ll ain’t that lucky. Someone musta forgot to lock the door when they left.”

“Whaaat? But Jonny didn’t even know we were coming here.”

“Nope, no sir. Jonny’s a model employee and it must’ve been someone else like, uh,” Roach gestured at her.

“Like that Danny.”

“Like that Danny, exactly! So much makeup, like a raccoon, y’can’t trust them types.” Roach gave her a wink before they went in.

She shook her head and smiled. With a parting glance at the beeping security camera, she followed.

Without Jonny, they were once again cast into darkness. Normally the trio had to hold hands while he guided them around the displays, with the occasional detour towards the movie shelves to pick up something to watch. Elodie wasn’t sure how to feel about coming into contact with Roach again without a third party present.

“Now just remind me: you can’t see in the dark, right?”

“No, Roach,” she sighed. “I am at your mercy.”

A self-satisfied hum escaped them as they tapped two fingers against their lip. “I like the sound of that.”

Thank God it’s so dark. They can’t see me blushing, oh God can they see me blushing? FUCK.

Elodie let out a huff and shoved them. “Just lead, this was your dumb idea.”

Her hand hovered over their shoulder, just for a moment that she was sure they would not have noticed. Finally she placed it down and pinched the fabric of their hoodie. She was about to give them the go ahead when she emitted a surprised squeak.

Roach huffed a laugh as one of their hands entwined with hers. “You gotta stay close luv, otherwise y’might trip. It’s for safety. You understand, right?”

They invited her into their personal space with the slightest of tugs, and damn it if she didn’t hate how compliant she was. It was a straight shot to the breakroom, but dammit if Roach seemed to walk slow on purpose. But if she pushed them to go faster, that would mean putting her body even closer to theirs. So she settled for muttering death threats to them the entire trek, just loud enough for Roach to hear and laugh at.

Which was definitely not what she wanted. It was just a coincidence how their laugh made her feel.

Roach entered the breakroom first and flipped the light switch. Elodie blinked at the sudden change and slid out of their grasp while Roach made a beeline for the rows of VHS tapes. Elodie had been to Hellbender’s Videos every night for the past week, but she still needed to prepare herself each time before she entered. Movie posters covered every inch of the walls, a colorful cacophony of faces. The eyes stared in all directions, but something about them itched her skin — loathe as she was to admit it, she disliked the thought of them watching her. She took a deep breath and followed.

“Did you find your wish?” she asked.

“Well that’s one way to put it,” Roach said as their hand flicked through the rows of tapes and the other fidgeted with their lighter. “You gotta poet’s soul inside of ya?”

“I hope not,” she said as she sat on the ground. She’d used the couch once this past week and swore she’d never make a mistake like that again. “It’s crowded enough inside here without something else.”

Roach let out a snort and squatted to check the bottom rows. *flick flick flick*

“Dammit, I don’t see any Divine stuff here.”

“How do you know when a movie is divine?”

“When John Waters directs it.” *flick flick*

“Does he water or direct the movie?”

“Cute” they pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I’ll check the front. Maybe they finally got an NC-17 section.”

Elodie snorted. St. George was built on Catholic guilt and a paralyzing fear of sexuality; it'd be more likely to meet a unicorn than for a sex section in Mrs. Bender’s store.

Roach stepped around her — she tried to trip them but dammit they were too slippery — and said, “Back in a flash.”

She craned her neck to watch them as they disappeared into the darkness, the light at their lips her only way to track them. It was when they disappeared around a corner did a thought strike her.

She wanted to play.

The thought jolted her to her feet. Where did that come from? She didn’t ‘play’, not as a human and especially not before; there was only the hunt, the chase, the feast. She bit her thumb and began to pace. Yes, there were occasions she’d intentionally prolong a hunt — but that felt too dissimilar. Those were intellectual exercises, where no pleasure was derived from it. How did the prey react to this stimuli, how did they fight back if this happened? It was done in preparation for the next hunt. There was always another hunt.

She bit down harder on her nail. Another Earth thing, then. Another thing no doubt connected to glands and hormones that she was grateful to lack in her true form. But that didn’t explain why. Why did she have this compulsive need to…to mess with Roach? To tease and push and to have them respond in kind?

She had a vague recollection of someone mentioning other creatures that did that — cats specifically — where they would play with their food, give them a moment of hope before they dashed it away. But that didn’t sit well with her; she didn’t want to hurt Roach, but instead wanted to hear them laugh. She shuddered at the thought. They’re supposed to be prey, but they don’t feel like that anymore. That’s a problem.

And the word itself—‘play’— evoked such strong memories: Melanie as she begged for one more game of dolls; Carmen McCarthy as she challenged her to a race; fucking Andrew and that stupid rubber band gun of his before she snapped it over her knee. But none of these felt right. Those had never interested her then and they didn’t interest her now; besides, those sort of games would likely bore Roach to tears.

She finally stopped her pacing. Her jaw finally relaxed, and the pressure on her thumb sighed in relief. Ah, so that is it. This was definitely the casket’s doing. This stupid, confusing, confounding thing that dared to make demands at all hours of the day. She remembered the horror at the realization that she wasn’t the master of this casket so much as its prisoner. It would react and respond without her consent, and when she finally had to concede that total control of it was as likely as stopping this planet’s rotation. This had to be another example of that, there was no other explanation. It had grown bored with human-made games, and craved the stimulation that only another one of their kind could create.

She looked around the cramped room, and her eyes rested on one of the multiple movie posters. A girl hugged a dog, surrounded by more. Something triggered in her memories, a new word floated and with it was an image so strong she wasn’t certain if it was a forgotten memory or not.

She and Livvy were at the Burrow — it had to be the Burrow because St. George didn’t have a pet shop, but she couldn’t fathom why they’d be there without Mom. She looked at their interlocked fingers and followed it up to her sister’s face. Ah, this must’ve been in grade school; Livvy has that awful perm cousin Camilla gave her.

Then a high pitched sound drew Elodie’s attention back to the store window. On the other side was a litter of puppies.

It was a moving mound of colorful fur as they clamored over each other. They tussled and pawed at each other as gleeful yips could be heard through the glass.

“They’re fighting,” Elodie had said.

“Nah squirt, they’re just roughhousing,” Livvy responded. “Playing.”

“Really,” she said with all the cynical skepticism she could muster. She shook her head as one of them nipped a floppy-eared one’s nose. “I get in trouble whenever I play like that.”

Livvy laughed. “That’s ‘cause you’re too rough, squirt.”

“Isn’t that just what roughhousing is?”

“Nah kiddo, it’s just another kind of playing.”

“And how do they know when it’s supposed to be for real and when it’s not?”

“They just do, squirt.”

“But how?”

Livvy opened her mouth then closed it. She had that thoughtful look she got whenever she was serious and wanted her words to mean more than they did. People said Elodie would get the same look on her face, but she doubted it. There was no way for this small human to ever compare to her.

A noise on the other side of the window pane drew Elodie’s attention away from her sister. The Nose Biter had lost interest in Floppy Ear’s face and had redirected its attention to chasing the other’s tail.

Just as Elodie was about to congratulate it on learning which end was the dangerous one, Nose Biter got ahold of Floppy Ears’ tail, and bit down hard enough for the latter to let out a cry. Immediately the rest of the litter backed away from the two and the shopkeeper appeared to separate them.

Livvy pointed. “There. That’s how they know.”

The shopkeeper patted and soothed the pup with love-words before they placed it back down. They waved at the girls and gestured for them to come in, but Livvy gave a smile and shook them off. They left, and Elodie looked up at her sister as she waited for her to continue her thought. But Livvy shook her head.

“Just watch, squirt. It’ll make sense pretty soon.”

Elodie turned back to the pups. Nose Biter has wobbled on its bowlegs back to Floppy Ears, who seemed a touch more cautious than before. Nose Biter raised a paw up, hovering in front of the other; then Floppy Ears barked and tackled it to the ground.

“See? He was a little more careful and asked if they could still play.”

“But they didn’t say anything!”

“Yes they did. They asked in puppyspeak is all,” she pointed as Nose Biter got off its back and began to spin around. “Now he’s saying ‘chase me! chase me!’ And look, now they’re friends again.”

“Squirt, I get that sometimes it’s hard to know this kinda stuff. All you gotta do is listen to the other person's words and body. The more you play, the easier it gets.”

“Found it!”

Elodie nearly jumped out of her skin, and yanked out her thumb with a hiss. She glanced down and noticed a droplet of blood bloom where her incisor had been. She quickly wiped it off on her jeans and poked her head out of the break room. A flash of movement by the counter drew her attention, and a moment later Roach’s face appeared.

“What are you doing over there?” she asked.

When they grinned the cigarette wobbled between their teeth and momentarily flared, and bathed their face in an orange glow. They lifted something above their head and shouted, “Had ‘em all in a box labeled ‘Trash for Roach’! Can you believe it? Jonny loves me!”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me, I know these movies like the back of my hand.”

“I meant about Jonny loving you, but okay.”

Roach blew a raspberry at her. “You’re no fun.” The glow from the cigarette had begun to fade, and left Elodie literally in the dark. She could follow what remained of the light as Roach tucked it behind their ear, but it had shrunk so much it was little help. Roach climbed on top of the counter, box under one arm, and tried to hop over the counter.

Keyword: tried. Not only did they misjudge just how high the counter was compared to their lil’ legs, they seemed to have immediately forgotten the lit cigarette until it caught part of their hair on fire. They wildly hopped from foot to foot, desperate not to crush the scattered VHS tapes while they tried to put out their hair.

Elodie leaned against the doorframe and watched their act with a critical eye. They’re doing this on purpose, but why?

Was this another attempt at humor? Was this that slapstick thing they and Jonny tried to explain before she tuned them out? Roach was durable and could withstand some serious injury without a problem, but there wasn’t a shock factor when you knew why. And Elodie knew; but that meant she wasn’t impressed by Roach’s stuff, and they should have grown bored by her lackluster reactions. So why put in the effort? Was it supposed to be some sort of signal, a clue she hadn’t noticed?

She walked off to the supply closet and grabbed the vacuum. When she returned, Roach had (miraculously) put it out without any burns or charred hair. What luck.

She followed the light of their eyes and could make out their crouched silhouette, as those golden eyes looked up at her in a clear pout. “You coulda helped, y’know.”

“What, and miss the show?” She unraveled the cord and began to feel around the wall. “Where is the nearest outlet?”

They gave a vague gesture in her general direction. “I’unno, somewhere around there, I think.”

“Roach, I know you can see. Just tell me already.”

“What, and miss the show?”

“I could eat you, you know. Right here and now.”

“Promise?”

She snorted. “Ass.”

“And a damn fine one too.”

Together they managed to do a passable job cleaning the mess, with only a small amount of grumbling. On the taxing ten-yard trek back, Roach had graciously decided to look past her ’betrayal’.

“Next time though I won’t be so forgiving.”

“Is that a threat?”

“What? Nooo, never,” they batted their lashes and held up a VHS tape. “Ready to have your life changed?”

“By the divine?”

“By the Divine.”

“That’s what I said!” Roach laughed as she shoved him, a strange comfort settling in her stomach. Yes, I was definitely right. It’s the casket that desires their company, not me.

Livvy had always been “a gentle soul” as their Mom would say; whenever the two played any sport, she would move with a delicate nervousness that made any serious game impossible. Elodie had never been sure if it was out of fear of Elodie hurting her or of Livvy hurting her. The thought would have amused her if it hadn’t frustrated her growing up.

And their cousins learned to give Elodie a wide berth ever since she dislocated one of their shoulders. Only fucking Andrew seemed ready to play rough — but it was Andrew and it’d be a cold day in Hell before she willingly sought out his company.

Elodie returned to her spot on the floor as Roach pushed the play button. When they saw her, they raised an eyebrow.

“There is a couch, y'know. It’s right there behind ya.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Well I’ll be damned. So there is.”

“So?” Roach asked as they plopped in their usual spot in the middle. They patted the cushion next to them, but she shook her head.

“I like being comfortable, thanks.”

“Killjoy.”

“I don’t even know—�� but Roach hushed them as the credits played. They slid down beside her, and the sudden closeness made her crinkle her nose at the smell of burnt hair and fabric.

Roach turned, no doubt to share some trivia, but stopped when they saw her face. They cocked their head to the side, a question on their lips. Elodie scooted an inch away from them, as she dusted some of the ash off their shoulder.

Their eyes widened. “Oh! Oh man, sorry ‘bout that. Here, gimme a second.“ immediately the room was filled with the familiar scent of honey and cinnamon, the same they sold at the bakery that made her mouth water without fail. Roach smiled. “Better?”

She nodded and tried to think past the onslaught of hunger the shift in scents had caused. Roach seemed to realize the mistake and quickly changed again, first to a fresh carpet smell then to pinewood then a dizzyingly strong bleach.

She pressed a hand to her temple at the abrupt changes. “Stop. The real is fine, just stop already.”

“Sorry, sorry! Tryna land on a neutral smell’s harder than it looks!”

It was a relief when the smell of nicotine and burnt shit returned. It took a few minutes more before the throbbing behind Elodie’s eyes finally subsided, not helped by the fact that some girl in the movie had the nasalliest Baltimore accent she’d ever heard.

When she finally opened her eyes, Roach watched her with a contemplative gaze.

“What?” She snapped. But they just gave her a hollow smile.

“Nothin’. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, Elodie,” they pointed to the screen. “Look, we’re ‘bout to hit a classic scene, you gotta watch.”

Elodie let out a frustrated hiss. She moved in front of the TV screen just as Dawn Dvenport threw her mom into the Christmas tree. A cacophony of people’s screams and the eerie silhouette gave just the right effect. She looked over Roach, all previous playfulness gone.

“Tell me Roach, before I get mad.”

They smiled, but it was spread a little too thinly to look natural. The way their body froze when they’d been so animated a moment ago was also a giveaway.

“Ellie, there’s no need to go all scarechord on me. Ya just gotta ask nicely is all.”

“I am,” she gave a grin that was all teeth. “So spill.”

They smiled back. “You won’t like the answer.”

“Roach.”

“Aight,” they shrugged nonchalantly. “I was just thinkin’ how funny it was, how fragile humans are and, well, how human your reaction was, is all.”

She stared at them, dumbfounded. That wasn’t the answer she expected. Roach rolled their eyes.

“Look, can you move now? The sex scene’s coming up and it’s actually got some real good camera work and effects, and I’d like to watch it.”

Elodie complied and returned to her seat next to them, blind to everything but her thoughts.

A part of her screamed that this was a ruse, a blatant coverup of the truth with an insecurity for her to chew over. And dammit, it worked.

Because humans are so, so delicate. She’d known that since she’d dislocated her cousin’s shoulder; when she joined track and swimming, and learned how painfully slow these creatures were. If she went as fast as she desired, it’d destroy this casket. It’d take so little effort for her to destroy everything around her and she couldn’t afford that kind of recklessness. She could never be all that she wanted without exposing what she was.

She looked at Roach with newfound respect. They’re dangerously clever. How intoxicating.

Flick flick flick

The lighter was out again, something for Roach’s hand even as their foot tapped with the melody. Perhaps they were nervous after that encounter. Or maybe it was the usual Roach-chitters. A sexy sax played over Dawn Davenport’s illustrious start as a career girl when they finally fished out their cigarette packet.

“Hey, is that ‘Mabel Mabel’ thing a real jump rope rhyme?” they asked as they tried to shake one out. Why they seemed against using their hands she’d never know.

“...Yeah,” she said cautiously. Were they going to mention her shift in mood? Did they care? Did it matter? “Liv and her friends used to sing it, but I think it went out of style by the time I was in school.”

“Hm. What kinda rhymes did you ‘n your friends sing?” they twirled the cigarette between their fingers as they watched her.

She frowned. “I wasn’t much for those kinds of games.”

Roach snorted. “Sure you weren’t.”

“It’s true though.” she tried not to cringe. Even to her own ears it sounded whiny.,

That made them laugh, and dammit if that didn’t immediately lift her mood, even if their words didn’t. “Hey, don’t get all pouty on me, I was just askin’.”

Pouty? Her? She was an interdimensional creature larger than anything on this planet, incomprehensible in form and in thought. She did not pout.

But they’re teasing again, so they’re not mad anymore, right? They wouldn’t push if they thought it was dangerous.

There it was again. That familiar rush, the intoxicating idea of ‘playing’ with Roach, even if that meant a few hits to her pride. She shifted to face them and balanced on the balls of her feet. She had to try.

“Are you really having another one already?”

Her question came just before the lighter reached the cigarette. The look of Roach’s pursed lips and surprised look brought her more satisfaction than it probably should have. Their eyes crossed as they tried to look at it between their lips, then took it out to properly examine it. They gave a performative show of tapping their chin, almost as if in thought.

“Well, I was plannin’ on just staring at ‘em all lovey-like, but I like your idea better.”

“You just had one. I don’t want Liv asking me if I’ve been smoking. It’s annoying.”

“Aww, poor you. Not my problem though.” the second their eyes went back to the lighter, Elodie pounced.

“— Do you always have to badger me for attention?”

“— MABEL MABEL—-”

“— Goddammit, Taffy!”

Elodie’s hand shot out to grab the packet just as Roach bucked their hips and threw her off. She grabbed their wrist and managed to pin them from behind, but Roach continued to squirm and buck like one of those mechanical bulls down at the bar. One of Roach’s arms freed itself and tried to drag themselves out just as Elodie pulled it back. She released it the second she realized the packet wasn’t there, and focused on trying to pry it from their other hand. Roach let out a bark of a laugh so sudden it gave her momentary pause.

“Oh so that’s what we’re doing!” they said with an edge of excited panic.

Maybe they were more nervous than I thought.

But it was too late to back down. Now it was an all-out war for the nicotine packet. The struggle lasted the rest of the scene in Dawn’s apartment, and the entirety of Hellbender’s break room. Roach managed to get to their feet and somersault Elodie onto her back, then made a break for the door, when her hand shot out for their ankle and dragged them down. She climbed onto them as they tried to roll away, but was once again pinned between her and the couch.

Elodie gave a triumphant shout and wrapped an arm around them, clinging to the couch’s foot. Roach was trapped for sure this time. They desperately tried to keep the packet out of her reach, but their lack of mobility made it child’s play. She wrapped her legs around one of theirs as she reached up, and felt her fingers barely brush the cardboard box. The more Roach tried to pull back, the more it crumpled and she thought to herself, I’ll win whether I get it or not. I’m brilliant.

She grinned in triumph at the sight of the now-crushed packet as it fell from Roach’s grasp and into her waiting clutches. “Ah-ha! Got you!”

“— You have to audition to even get your hair done.”

“ — And there’s this guy who does hair there… Mmm-mm!”

Then her mind finally caught up with the rest of her. She relaxed herself back to the ground and realized how intertwined the two of them were. There wasn’t a hair’s width of space between them, made all the more noticeable by how heavy she panted for air and the hammering of her heart.

“—I’d suck the socks off of him in a minute.”

Oh no. Elodie squirmed, she needed to disentangle herself from Roach, but her head was too full of noise. It was like every part of her body needed to let itself be known where it was in proximity to them, like the hand that was around her or how their thumb was hooked in one of her belt loops.

Meanwhile, Roach looked completely at ease as they rested their head on her arm. And here I thought I was being so clever— FUCK. What is going on in this movie, why is there so much moaning all of a sudden?!

“Looks like you caught me,” they practically purred. Their eyes were two black pools, the shine of their strange eyes reduced to a shimmering ring.

Elodie’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. She gulped, and prayed they didn’t take that as a sign of weakness. “Yup.”

But that was enough to break whatever stupor she’d been in, and she began to wiggle away. But with every inch she tried to put between them, Roach was quick to close it again.

“— Don’t you look hot today!”

“ — Why thank ya, honey. I feel more,” the actress let out a steamy moan and felt herself up. “comfortable.”

“The hell is even happening?” she asked, eager to distract. This doesn’t count as running away, she told herself. This was merely a sign of respect, it was standard protocol of the human game of ‘roughhousing’. I’m not afraid of something like Roach.

#the passenger #the passenger if #roach tp #newman tp #elodie newman #holding a pen #i'm so embarrased imma DUMMYHEAD

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