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lets-not-talk-about-it · 2 years

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The Hair and the Raven Queen

Steve Harrington x Gothic!Reader

Summary: Steve never knew what he wanted in a girl until she came into his life. He didn't know how, but he wouldn't give up until she was his.

Warnings: Smut, p in v, crying during sex, rough sex, fluff, cuteness, fingering, overstimulation, creampie, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, hair pulling, hurt/comfort, ruined makeup, marking, strangers to lovers, fighting, violence.

AN: I had this idea because I am gothic myself and thought it would be cute to have opposites attract. I might make this into a series if you guys want it to be. The picture above is by me.

~~~

The first day of school was atrocious. People looked at her strangely and called her names just because she wore too much eyeliner and teased her hair a bit. Y/N came in with her walkman atop her head, Siouxsie and the Banshees pleasantly drifting into her ears. She had made herself a playlist full of all the bands she loves, such as The Cure, Siouxsie, and some other bands that made her heart soar with happiness. People stared of course. It was a small town, she was new, and the new wave was just hitting in the middle of the satanic panic. She was crazy to even go to school like this, but she loved how she looked, loved the dark makeup and the theatricalness of her expressions. She was happy with herself. That was, of course, until lunch came around. As a senior, everyone had already made their own cliques and friends and it was near the end of the year, and most weren't willing to accept new people into their group. Especially the bible thumpers that glared her way. Y/N looked at her shoes as the people stared, swiftly turning around to walk into the bathrooms and eat there, alone. However, once she turned around, she noticed a boy and a girl, her tray falling out of her hands and onto the boy's chest.

"Shit! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there and you were walking so fast so I didn't think you saw me and I'm sorry." Y/N spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of her black-stained lips. She grabbed napkins and helped him clean the food off of his green shirt as he just stared at her.

"It's fine, really." He spoke softly before grabbing her hands that were furiously scrubbing his shirt. The girl next to him was laughing loudly and pointing at the boy.

"Are you sure? I ruined your shirt..." She stopped, a blush finding its way onto her cheeks and looking into his eyes. He was handsome, too handsome and it made her suspicious that he was an asshole. But the girl next to him quieted her laughter and observed them, making her flush worsen.

"Yeah, it's just a shirt right." The boy shrugged, letting go of her hands gently as she looked behind her to see the entire cafeteria staring.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm gonna-" And with that Y/N speed-walked out of the cafeteria, feeling the eyes of everyone on her black-clad body.

~~~

"Who was that?" Steve asked, looking down at his ruined shirt before looking behind him where the mystery girl disappeared to.

"That was Y/N L/N. She's in my history class. She looks cool but I saw her trying not to cry after class because of the mean things that Jason and his goons were saying about her behind her." Robin replied, walking towards their usual table. Vickie greeted them happily and Robin became nervous and sat close to Steve.

"Yeah... She does look cool huh?" Steve asked in wonder.

"What? Do you have the hots for a goth chick? That's very unlike you, Harrington. I thought you only went for preppy girls." Steve shrugged at Robin's words and looked back at the doors that Y/N left in with a sigh.

"I don't have the hots for her I just... she looked stressed out."

"Uh-huh. That's why you can stop looking at the place where she just was like you're some kind of movie character." Robin laughed and Vickie joined her.

"Oh hush."

~~~

A few days later, Y/N was at her locker when she felt a presence next to her, turning to find the boy from earlier leaning against the lockers next to hers.

"Hey." He smiled at her when she made eye contact with him.

"Can i... help you?" She asked curiously. She wondered if he was going to say something mean to her, or perhaps yell at her for ruining his shirt. However, she saw no maliciousness behind his eyes.

"Oh it's nothing, just wanted to uhm... welcome you to Hawkins. Yeah. You know, since the people here can be so judgy and pushy on their views, thought I'd give a nice welcome to this shitty town." The boy rambled. Y/N nodded and smiled softly at him.

"That's very kind of you." She told him, looking down at her shoes nervously. She looked up to catch him staring and she wondered what was going on inside his head.

"Well, I gotta get to class. If you want... you could like, sit with me and my friend Robin at lunch. She has you in history." the boy spoke again after a beat of silence. Y/N thought about it and nodded silently.

"What was your name again?" Y/N finally asked after another blanket of silence fell over them.

"Right! How could I forget my manners? Steve, Steve Harrington." He smiled widely at her and his words made a giggle bubble up her throat. He sure was charming.

"Well Steve Harrington, I'll see you at lunch then." The bell rang and that was their cue to depart, s soft smile on both of their lips.

Lunch came by quickly and Y/N walked in the lunchroom with pursed lips, scanning the room for Steve. She heard her name and turned to see Steve and another girl waving her over. Her lips turned into a smile and she walked over, only to be stopped by a kid named Jason.

"Hey Y/N. You know satanism isn't allowed in this school right? Why don't you go eat in the bathroom like you did yesterday." He laughed, his friends joining in on the lame joke.

"Yeah, how pathetic are you?" Y/N was becoming increasingly embarrassed the more they talked to her, clutching her tray and looking towards her boots. She looked behind Jason to see Steve looking at them curiously before tears welled in her eyes at the boy's endless taunts.

"Aw, are you gonna cry, Raven queen? The freak is gonna cry!" Jason laughed. At that, she heard a chair screech against the floor and Steve came stomping over.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Steve got in between the two and pushed Y/N back gently so that she was out of their view.

"So what? What are you gonna do about it, Harrington?" Jason challenged.

"Just leave her alone, alright. She hasn't done anything wrong, and she hasn't done anything you to. What's your problem?" Steve challenged back, his chest puffing out to intimidate the two. They didn't back down, puffing their own chests out and getting in Steve's face, even though Steve was taller than them.

"Oh, she's done enough by existing and showing everyone that the devil truly lives in Hawkins." Jason spat. Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh go to hell Jason. All she's doing is wearing some makeup and dark clothes. Get over yourself." Steve spoke in a low tone.

"Or what?" Jason shoved Steve, the boy's back hitting the front of the tray that Y/n held onto tightly, her knuckles turning a different shade at her grip.

"Don't shove me, punk." Steve shoved him back and that's when all hell broke loose. Jason swung at Steve, who dodged it, the swing landing on Y/N. She cried out in pain and dropped to the floor, Robin running up to her to help her up. Steve swung and punched Jason in the nose, blood pouring from his nose. Jason hit in in the eye, making Steve stumble back.

"Are you okay?" Robin asked, helping Y/N get up as she spat the blood that accumulated in her mouth onto the floor as she had bitten her cheek when she was punched. Y/N nodded and watched the fight in fright as Steve got tackled by Jason's friend.

"Steve!" She shrieked, watching him hit the floor with a loud thump. Everyone in the cafeteria had gotten up and was watching them, the teacher running into the room to break up the fight. The teachers held the two jocks back while Robin and Y/N held Steve, who looked down at Y/N as she gripped his torn shirt tightly.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. Y/N nodded, looking him up in the eyes with worry.

After they had all talked to the principal, Y/N brought Steve to her car, making him sit in the passenger seat while she sat in the driver's seat. She rifled through her stuff before producing antiseptic for his split eyebrow.

"You don't have to do that," Steve whispered. Y/N grabbed his chin gently and forced him to look at her as he was staring at his bruising knuckles.

"And you didn't have to stick up for me, but you did." She looked him in the eyes and smiled.

"I had to. What they said was out of line. No one should treat you like that." Steve said, the angry tone from earlier resurfacing. Y/N sighed and began to pat his would with a cloth she found. She applied the antiseptic and began to press it to his cut, a hiss finding their way out of his lips.

"I'm sorry." She began quietly, dabbing the wound again before she got out her bandaids. She felt Steve's eyes on her as she worked, a blush creeping its way up her neck.

"It's okay. I've dealt with worse." He told her.

"Yeah well, this one is because of me..." She shrugged, placing the bandaid on his cut and moving hair behind his ear to inspect her work.

"I'd do it again."

"What?" She asked, pulling away.

"I'd fight them again for you. I mean. It's no big deal. They're just some assholes with god complexes. They had it coming and I hated to see you cry and you seem so sweet and I just I couldn't-" He stopped in his tracks when she kissed his cheek.

"Thank you." She whispered as she pulled away. Y/N saw the blush on his cheeks and she giggled softly.

The two departed, the school day has ended and Y/N couldn't stop the smile from leaving her face at the sight of her lipstick transferring onto his cheek.

The next month went by quickly, Y/N becoming fast friends with Robin and Vickie, while her crush on Steve grew. They were sitting at the lunch table, laughing at a joke that Steve made when someone came up to their table. It was a senior named Michael, who seemed nervous at the stares he got once he reached them.

"H-hi Y/N." Y/N furrowed her brows at him, she hadn't talked to him before but Robin and she had history class with him.

"Hello..." She trailed off, wondering what he wanted.

"So I know we don't know each other and all, and that we share history together and you look really pretty by the way. I was just wondering if you... uhm... if you..." He stammered, not meeting the girls eyes. Y/N grinned at him before glancing at Steve who was glaring at the kid.

"Are you asking me out, Michael?" Y/N asked, biting her lip in amusement. If she said yes, she could potentially get over the crush that seemed to be getting nowhere with Steve. No matter how many times she flirted with him, he never seemed to react so she eventually let it go.

"Y-yes..." Michael trailed off. She thought it was cute. Michael was an attractive outcast, his friend group small and she knew he listened to her kind of music.

"Where to?" She asked, and the boy perked up immediately.

"You'll go with me?" He asked hopefully.

"I mean why not? I'm not doing anything." She shrugged, but the look of shock on Steve's face made her smile falter. She wondered if he truly did like her back, but shrugged the idea off after the month of getting nowhere with the man.

"Okay! I'll pick you up tonight at eight?" Michael asked, and Y/N nodded, watching the boy walk off happily.

"Oooo Y/N's got a date!" Vickie cooed, which made Steve and Robin glance at each other with a look that Y/N didn't comprehend.

"It's no big deal. He's sweet, heard he's smart too."

"You uh... You like smart guys?" Steve asked suddenly and Y/N looked at him.

"I do." She shrugged. Steve nodded and glanced back at Robin, which made Y/N furrow her brows again.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, turning to both Steve and Robin, who looked away from her quickly. At their silence, she sighed and got up, throwing her tray into the trash as the bell rang.

"I'll see you guys after school alright?" She smiled and Vickie waved her goodbye while the others looked away from her eyes. Vickie furrowed her brows and nudged Robin, who got up and followed the girl out of the cafeteria.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked when it was just her and Steve. Steve shook his head and sighed.

"No, you did nothing wrong. Excuse me." He got up and brushed past her, leaving her standing there confused.

~~~

Y/N was finishing her makeup when she heard something tap at her window. She figured it was a crow that frequently brought her gifts after she fed them so she paid no mind, but when she heard a voice, she shrieked and turned, seeing Steve Harrington at her window.

"Steve?" She asked, opening the window. He climbed inside and she stepped back, letting him enter her room. He looked around her dark room, splashes of colour making the room look put together. It was clean, as Y/N never liked having a dirty room.

"Don't go on that date." Steve breathed. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"You crawled onto my roof and into my room to tell me not to go on a date?" She asked incredulously. She saw his eyes go over her body, which made her shiver. She was wearing a tight black top and pencil skirt, accentuating her assets.

"Yes. Look..."

"No Steve! You can't just come in here and beg me not to do something for no good reason!" She shouted. Her parents weren't home so she didn't bother with the noise. Steve sighed and placed a hand on his forehead.

"I do have a good reason." he countered. Y/N crossed her arms.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" She pursed her lips as he got closer to her.

"Because Michael isn't good enough for you! No one in this shitty town is. You're amazing and beautiful and no one even deserves to be in your presence. I- and I-"

"You what?" She stepped forward after he got quiet and grabbed his hand.

"And I love you." She gasped at his words and he stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek. Y/N leaned into his touch and stared into his eyes.

"You love me?" She asked, letting him get into her personal space.

"I do." He nodded, his shoulders dropping like the weight of the world lifted off of his shoulders.

"Steve..." She began before he cut her off.

"You don't have to like me back, or anything. I know that you don't typically go for boring guys like me-"

"I love you too." She whispered, getting on her toes to kiss him, Steve reacting immediately. His free hand went to her waist, gripping her tightly as if she'd disappear if he let go.

"You do?" He asked nervously.

"Steve... I liked you since you fought for my honor in the cafeteria. No one has ever done that for me... and you looked so cute when I was helping you with your cut. I just figured... well, I'm me, and you're you. You'd never like a girl like me." Steve shook his head and placed his forehead against hers.

"I'd always like you." He kissed her again, turning his head to the side as his hands played with the hair on the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. A soft moan left her lips, only to be swallowed by Steve.

"I'm going to get makeup all over you."

'I don't care. When you kissed my cheek, it took all my willpower to get this black lipstick off of my cheek." He said, his thumb going to touch her bottom lip gently, pulling at the skin there. She kissed his fingertip and he gasps softly.

Y/N kissed him again, this time going deeper and sticking her tongue in his mouth. He sighed against her and they fought for dominance, Steve eventually winning. He began to lead her back against the bed, not breaking the kiss when she fell onto the bed. The sound of The Cure played in the background from her music player, A Forest making the atmosphere change.

Y/N ran her hands through Steve's hair, an action she's dreamed of doing as he laid in between her legs. The kiss escalated, his hands roaming her body as she moaned under his touch.

"You have no idea what you do to me..." Steve husked, his voice an octave deeper as he stared at her with dilated pupils and black stained lips. She never thought he looked more beautiful than in that moment, her heart soaring with emotions.

"Come here..." She begged, pulling him closer so that he was flush with her, her leg hooking around his to pull his crotch against hers. Her skirt had rolled up to her hips but she didn't care, all she cared about was him pressing against her and the smell of him that invaded her nostrils.

Steve let his hand move down her body, grabbing the thigh that wound itself around him and squeezed.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked gently, looking Y/N in the eyes. Her heart exploded with love at his words and concern.

"I'm sure." She replied, grabbing the hand gripping her thigh, and bringing it under her shirt and to her breast. Steve closed his eyes at the feeling of her soft skin against his hand and groaned.

"God, you're so soft." He praised, licking his lips before kissing down her exposed throat. Y/N moaned as he sucked on a special spot close to her ear, the sensitive skin brightening immediately under his lips and teeth. The woman bucked her hips up against him, making him groan in her neck at the friction.

"Please..." She begged softly in his ear. Steve looked down at her and smiled, the hand on her breast toying with her hardened nipple before suddenly cupping her sex, making her gasp loudly. She was wet, unbearably so, her clit throbbing at the thought of what he was going to do to her.

"Is this all for me? Did I do this to you?" Steve asked, his words making her flustered. Y/N hid her face in his neck, embarrassed at the fact that she was so worked up and all they had done was kiss.

"Nuh-uh... don't hide from me. Answer me." Steve demanded, pulling Y/N back with a tug on her hair. She hissed in the pleasurable pain on her scalp and looked him in the eyes.

"Yes. All for you." She moaned, feeling him rub up and down her black panties, over her clit, and down to her entrance. She clenched on nothing at the feeling.

"Yeah... I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby." He promised into her neck before he began to pull her panties down, spreading her legs open and groaning at the sight of her. He moaned, looking at her glistening pussy that awaited his touch.

"Already so wet for me, baby. Such a pretty pussy." His dirty words made her moan, brain too clouded to care about being embarrassed anymore. She felt his fingers on her once more and it made her jolt, bucking her hips into his fingers. He chuckled and bit his lip at the sight of her, all hot and needy just for him.

Steve began to play with her clit, rubbing gently before pressing harshly on the sensitive bud, making her cry out in sudden pleasure. He began to trace figure eights onto her, her head throwing back at the feeling. Steve watched himself work, before slipping one finger into her heat, her entrance practically sucking him in. He chuckled again at her eagerness but stopped when she opened herself further for him. Steve groaned at the sight of her willingness as she cupped her own breast and toyed with herself, watching him with lust-blown eyes.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" Steve said, his voice deep. Y/N tried to smile but her mouth formed an 'o' shape when he added another finger, pumping in and out at a steady pace. He curled his fingers, making her gasp loudly at the feeling.

"R-right there steve!" She cried, her belly aching at the feeling of her coil tightening. Steve did it again, making her cry out once more. He continued, watching her closely as the tightening in his pants got worse.

Her eyes rolled back when he sped up, thumb brushing her clit every time he got knuckle deep. A silent scream formed on her lips as the coil burst, cumming on his fingers and gripping his forearm and the sheets beside her.

"That's it, baby, there you go. You did so well." He cooed, getting on his knees. He didn't pull his fingers out as she rode her high, writhing on his fingers and hand. Steve pushed her legs further apart and lunged at her pussy, sucking and licking at her clit. She whimpered at the feeling, the overwhelming pleasure overtaking her after she came.

"Steve!" She screamed.

"Yeah that's right, scream my name baby." He said, going back to eating her out like a starved man. He licked and suckled on every part of her, another orgasm already creeping up on her.

"Steve I'm going cum." She warned. Her voice was breathless as he didn't come up for air unless he spoke.

"Do it, baby, I know you can. Just for me, yeah?" Steve asked before going back to it, his fingers never stopped pumping in and out of her. She nodded and felt the coil snap, white-hot pleasure overtaking her.

"Yes! Yes! Just for you." She moaned, licking her lips. Steve only got away from her cunt when she pulled him away, her sensitive clit becoming too much. Steve climbed on top of her and took off his shirt, pants, and underwear, his cock springing up to slap his stomach. Her hands found his chest hair immediately, rubbing his chest and pulling him down to her.

"Is this okay?" Steve asked as he lined his tip up with her entrance and she nodded, kissing him softly on the lips.

"Don't go easy on me." She told him, fluttering her eyes at him. Steve groaned loudly and thrust into her without another word. He stopped to let her get used to the intrusion, both moaning loudly as she clung to him tightly. the heels of her feet dug into his backside as she rocked her hips up against him, giving the man the okay to start moving. He quickly started with a brutal pace, slamming his hips into hers. Their moans bounced off the walls with heavy breaths as they rocked into one another. One of Steve's hands went up and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her face to the side as he began to suck hickies into her throat, marking her as his.

"Who's pussy is this?" Steve asked harshly, his hips snapping into hers with vigor.

"Yours!" She cried, tears piercing her eyes and rolling down her cheeks at the intense pleasure she was feeling. Steve began to rub circles in her clit at that, making her cry out in pleasure as she felt her stomach tighten once more.

"I don't think I heard you right, sweetheart. Who do you belong to?" Steve grunted.

"I belong to you Steve Harrington!" She yelled out into the night, her pussy clenching onto his cock as she came, her walls fluttering against him.

"Fuck!" He grunted, his rhythm became sloppy and he began to abuse her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

"One more baby. Just one more. Please." He begged, hitting into her deeper and harder than before. The tip of his cock rubbed something deep inside of her that made Y/N see stars and she gasped loudly, feeling him kiss down her neck and lick over the forming bruises there.

"Right there, baby?" She nodded at his question and he positioned himself to hit there, again and again, white-hot pleasure blossoming behind her closed eyes.

"God, Steve!" She cried out, more tears streaming down her cheeks and she felt him wipe them away with his thumb.

"You're so beautiful." Steve whispered and his soothing words broke the dam inside of her, her juices coating his cock as she came for the last time, whimpering at the overstimulation she felt. Steve's hips were snapping into her with an unsteady pace, and she knew he was close with her walls contracting around him. Steve gave a few final pumps before she felt his hot, wet cum coat her insides, soothing the ache that was beginning to form. He collapsed on her, kissing down her throat and up to her lips until they found each other, smearing more makeup along Y/N's face.

Steve slipped out of her, looking down to watch his cum flow out of her abused cunt and chuckled darkly.

"God that's hot." He said, hands roaming her body again before they reached her face, cupping her jaw and giving Y/N sweet kisses. Y/N smiled into the kisses, exhaustion waving over her. The cassette tape ended and they heard a car speed off, making Y/N gasp and sit up.

"Oh my gosh! Do you think he heard us?" Y/N asked nervously. Steve furrowed his brows.

"Who?"

"Michael. It's passed eight." She looked at the clock on her wall and put her face in her hands.

"Oh definitely. I mean, you were pretty loud." Y/N hit Steve's chest with her pillow as he chuckled at her. He leaned in for another kiss that she gladly reciprocated before he sat back on her bed.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Y/N nodded and smiled at him.

"My makeup is probably a mess now." She spoke with embarrassment. Steve shook his head and kissed her cheek.

"I think you still look beautiful. Even though I have your black lipstick all over me." The man laughed, earning a playful glare.

"So..." She started before he cut her off.

"Be my girlfriend. I mean... sorry. Will you be my girlfriend?" A slow smile crept onto Y/N's face at his words and she jumped into his arms, and kissed him.

"Of course, I'll be your girlfriend." She replied after they pulled away from each other. Steve's smile grew and he began to kiss all over her face, making her giggle loudly.

"Are you getting tired?" Steve asked after she stifled a yawn and buried her face into his neck. She nodded against him, and pulled him to lay down on her bed with her. He complied and she snuggled up to him, running her fingers through his chest hair.

Steve wrapped his arm around her and they fell asleep, in bliss in each other's arms.

#smut #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington smut #stranger things 4 #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you

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emberstoriesandtales · 3 years

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Jealous (Vampire!Jason Kolchek x Fem!Reader)

(I am going to try to post this on here to see if you guys can see this on your feed. Tumblr still hasn't gotten back to me. Maybe all that's happening to me is a glitch and I got scared that it was shadowbanned. In this, I'm gonna have it where Jason doesn't get burned by the sunlight, and he doesn't infect anyone at all unlike the other vampires, since he got infected differently than how the others got infected. The screenshot is from @pearl-effect.)

(Also, I need to see some fanart of Jason as a vampire, I gots to sees Jason as a vampire!)

○○○○○○○○○○

"Good to see you." Y/N said as she gave a hug to Eric, who had just gotten out of his car.

As the two began to chat, Jason watched from the living room window.

His life while he was human was still foggy to him, the only thing he remembered was Y/N, and that's all he cared about.

Seeing that man hugging Y/N filled him up with anger and another feeling that he didn't remember exactly what it was.

Slowly backing away, he waited for Y/N to come back inside.

"How's Jason been doing since he..." Eric asked, still feeling bad for the man.

He decided to visit Jason and Y/N to see how they were doing and check on how Jason was doing since he transformed.

"He's been calm, around me he never really attacks anyone unless provoked." Y/N responded.

It's been a year since the group escaped from the temple, and when they found out Jason got infected.

When he first transformed it took a little bit of time but he eventually recognized Y/N, and he became super attached to her than what he usually was to her as human.

This fortunately gave the scientists time to look for a cure, but they are still trying to make sure it works, using Clarice and Joey, who were both transformed as well, but were both still too dangerous.

Y/N could still remember when the scientists tried to take Jason as well, but he stayed lached on to her.

Seeing that the vampire was basically calm around the woman, they left them be.

"Well that's good. And they did make a bit of progress with Clarice and Joey, so they should be able to finish with the cure soon."

Y/N smiled.

She was happy that Jason would be able to be turned back to normal soon, she missed the human version of him a lot.

When the two entered the living room, a growl interrupted their conversation and Eric was knocked down to the floor away from Y/N, Jason stood infront of her in a protective manner.

"Jason!" She exclaimed looking at Jason in shock.

"Y/N its okay, I'm fine. " Eric said with a small smile as he stood up, keeping his distance from Jason to not anger him any further.

That's when he noticed the look he was giving him.

He recognized it from when Rachel chose to try again with him and end her affair with Nick.

Jason was jealous.

"I think he's just jealous. Probably saw us hug before we entered the house" Eric said with a chuckle as Jason pulled Y/N into an embrace while keeping her away from him.

Y/N looked at Jason, using her free arm to reach up to Jason's face and turn his head to look at her.

"Are you angry because he hugged me?" She asked in a serious tone.

This made Jason lose his grip on her and looked ashamed as if a dog was caught doing something it wasn't suppose to.

"Jason, Eric is like a brother to me. It's nothing to get angry or jealous about." She said before kissing his forehead.

The vampire relaxed a bit as he hugged her again.

Then Eric's phone went off causing Jason to jump a bit.

"Sorry." Eric said with a smile as he took his phone out and looked at it.

He sighed.

"It's Rachel, I need to get back home. I promised her to help with finishing the baby's room. I'm glad to see that you both are doing fine. I'll let you know when they finished with the cure." He said as he hurried out of the house and to his car.

Before entering the vehicle, Eric waved to the two through the window before leaving.

Once the car was gone, Y/N looked down at Jason who was still hugging her.

"Jason."

The man slowly turned his head to her, still looking guilty for what he did.

"Please, next time don't do that, you have nothing to be jealous about. I love you, and only you."

Jason smiled and pressed his lips to her's in a tender, sweet kiss.

"Love...you..." he growled breaking the kiss for a moment before he kisses Y/N again.

#house of ashes #dark pictures house of ashes #dark pictures anthology house of ashes #jason kolchek #jason kolchek x reader #eric king #house of ashes jason kolchek x reader #house of ashes jason kolchek #house of ashes eric #house of ashes eric king #house of ashes jason

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elareine · 3 years

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I know I already gave you one, but I just thought of this now, if you could, or ignore it, either one is fine, can you please write Nurse or Doctor Tim with JayTim or DickTim, or both go crazy with it, if you want. And Tim being so exasperated with them because they keep giving him the lamest excuses for their injuries, because they don't know he knows or they suspect he knows but both sides are trying to see who will mention it first. So its like a big competition of who will break first.

So the competition aspect got lost a bit? I hope you still enjoy it :)

Warning: Some dark jokes about domestic violence, mostly borne out of my experience when I actually fell down the stairs. Also I blatantly did not care about the actual medical issues in this.

“You fell down the stairs.”

Usually, when Tim had to repeat these words to someone, he said them gently: telegraphing his disbelief as well as his willingness to keep up appearances as long as the victim needed to. With kids, he was a bit more direct, though only after separating them from the parent. He never spoke this sarcastically; that would be uncalled for.

(Also, contrary to popular belief, some people actually did fall down the stairs.)

Today? Today his words were dripping with sarcasm.

The man—‘Richard Grayson’ according to his file, ‘Dick’ according to his introduction, ‘Gotham’s most handsome bachelor’ according to the gossip mags—rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… maybe it was more, like. The roof?”

“Did the roof use a whip, by any chance?” Tim asked, examining the welts. “What did you do to piss off Catwoman?”

“Not—Nothing, because I fell down the stairs.”

“The roof.”

“The stairs on the roof.”

Tim sighed. “Alright. We’re gonna need an x-ray because I suspect your muscle has been cut through. Please report to room three, and the nurse will take care of it.”

“Sure thing, doc!”

—

When Tim had been inspired by Thomas Wayne to become a doctor, this hadn’t been what he envisioned.

Cure the sick? Sure. Fix bones and other injuries? As an orthopedic specialist: every day. Look at every injury Dick Grayson acquired during his totally-legal activities? Nope. What the fuck.

The explanations became increasingly stupider, too, which was hard to believe seeing how they started with a chart-topper like ‘I fell down the stairs/roof and it happened to look like a belt from a whip.’

Tim had resolved early on that he wouldn’t ask. His patience for Dick’s weak-ass excuses was close to zero, sure, but it was safer to keep away. This was a professional medical praxis that cared for everyone, no matter their allegiance. Tim didn’t even know which vigilante was sitting in front of him.

…oh, who was he kidding. This was Nightwing. None of the other vigilantes in Gotham was that chipper.

(Also, that ass.)

Fine. Tim could deal with that. He might’ve even privately fangirled over the fact that he got to patch up Nightwing (the first Robin!) on a regular basis. Also, Dick was ridiculously charming; Tim didn’t mind spending time with him. It was a nice break in the middle of a hectic day.

Except then Dick started bringing his brother/boyfriend along.

(Yeah, Tim felt as weird about that ‘/‘ as you do. But they were holding hands, so…)

He took one look at Jason Todd and asked drily: “So, seen any good zombie movies lately?”

Dick choked on air. Jason just grinned through the bloody mess he’d made of his mouth and asked: “Do I look that bad?”

“Worse.” Tim sighed and started examining the mess closer, carefully pressing along the lines of the other man’s jaw. “Let me guess, you’re also into parkour?”

“Among other things.”

“Hmm. Yeah, nothing broken, I think, but we’ll double-check. If not, ice, painkillers, and no ‘rooftop parkour’ for a while, alright?” He paused. Honestly, judging by Jason’s stature (too wide for most vigilantes) and age (too young to be Batman)… “I’d tell you to wear a helmet, but apparently, even that’s not helping.”

Jason turned to Dick, grinning widely. “I can see why you like him.”

Tim had no idea what to think about that, so he didn’t.

—

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Every Wednesday, Tim would close his practice at 2 p.m. and spend the rest of the day doing paperwork. A cup of tea and the tv in the background

Except then the news started, and Tim heard the phrases “Nightwing and Red Hood,” “magician,” and “explosion.”

Then, the footage—obviously taking from mobile phone recordings—began playing. He watched for three minutes, panic spreading through him. Nightwing limp on the ground. Red Hood, literally thrown through a wall. He knew that these men were terrifyingly well trained, that Red Hood must’ve had some beta modifications at some point in his life with the injuries he took in stride—

But on camera, they weren’t moving.

According to the timestamp, the footage had been taken thirty minutes ago.

“Clean-up has begun,” the reporter on the screen said. “There is no sign of the two vigilantes who have defended our community center to the last—“

Tim grabbed his things and ran.

Tam, his assistant, looked up in alarm as he entered the waiting area. “Tim?”

“I need to go,” Tim told her, not stopping. “It’s an emergency.”

And because Tam was the best, she simply called after him: “Call me if you need help! I’ll take care of the practice.”

Tim knew Dick’s home address, had memorized it just in case—just in case. That’s where Tim drove now. If they weren’t there, he would try Wayne Manor next, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

But when he pressed the doorbell at the apartment labeled ‘Grayson,’ he was immediately buzzed in.

Jason was the one who let him in and led him to the living room, where Dick half-sat, half laid on a couch.

Tim asked: “Okay. What hurts the most?”

“His head,” Jason replied, and Dick glared: “I’m told you I’m fine, Jay—“

Tim walked over. Swelling, definitely, and something about that shoulder…

“I popped that back in,” Jason explained. “But I think there’s something wrong with his neck.”

Yeah, there really was. Tim recognized the beginning of some deep bruising—strangulation, his mind supplied, that magician had tried to choke Dick out—and the back of Dick’s head felt tender and hot.

“I don’t suppose I can interest you in an x-ray?” he asked.

Disagreement all around. Fine. Tim would write them prescriptions for braces, if they didn’t have them lying around in a corner, anyway. Unless something felt like it was broken or shifted out of place or actually torn. You didn’t mess around with that.

Jason had sat down next to Dick, and Tim moved on seamlessly to checking him. Jason’s ribs were definitely not okay, but probably hadn’t punctured his lung or anything, or he wouldn’t be sitting here. Apart from that, he was one massive bruise and a fucked-up hit. No running for Red Hood for at least a week. (Six weeks for normal humans. Tim was used to the calculation by now.) Oh, and something had crushed his foot—“the building falling on me,” Jason very helpfully informed him—and they had both suffered fourth- and third-degree burns.

Tim began dressing the wounds in silence. His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking, dammit. He was a fucking doctor. His hands were the steadiest thing about him.

It felt like hours passed before he was done.

“You need to stay awake.” His tone was too sharp; he could do nothing to soften it. “With a blast like that, concussions are a given. Is there anyone we could call to stay up with you?”

Dick nodded, then winced. Yeah, he should avoid that movement for a while. “Yes, we could—“

“No.” Jason shook his head.

“No?” Dick looked at him. Something must’ve been telegraphed in Jason’s eyes because Dick continued: “Oh, I mean, no. I’m afraid there isn’t.”

“We’re all alone.”

“Totally.”

Tim sighed. “Don’t you have, like, fifteen siblings and a butler? I should just call Wayne Manor; I’m sure that number is on Google or something—“

“Tim,” Dick said very gently. His hand went up to grasp Tim’s. “Stay with us?”

Tim blinked. “That’s. Really unprofessional.” He didn’t pull his hands away, though.

“You’re in our living room.” Jason shifted—it looked painful—and continued: “Pretty sure nothing about this is professional, so…”

“Please?” Dick asked.

Tim inhaled deeply and shook his head. “You two are so—stupid.” They flinched. “Like, what’re you doing, getting injured like that every week? You’re going to get yourself killed, and then I will have to come up with an explanation and it’s gonna be better than any you ever came up with. You’re gonna be so bad for my blood pressure.”

Dick looked crestfallen, but Jason was starting to grin: “So, you’re staying, then?”

“Duh.”

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

#elareine writes #jaydicktim

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Ooooh, you know what Tim would hate because of Trauma™️? Getting sick! Because when he got the Clench he was just hours (at best) away from dying of it before he got the cure, and then with his spleen gone now he’s extra vulnerable to illnesses. Then you add in his need to be useful and the fact that being sick negates that usefulness and this carries the (perceived) threat of causing the people he loves to leave him because he isn’t useful anymore, and you get something that could really scare him.

Also, I can’t not believe that the family members who lived through No Man’s Land (which lasted a whole year and killed so many people!!) don’t still have traumas relating to that

Oh snap, you are absolutely right about any and all trace of being laid up with some kind of illness being persona non grata in the Mind Of Timothy, after the Clench alone. He's like no me gusta. And add in the lack of a spleen and how even without all those other factors he's primed to be one of the worst patients when confined to bed rest and told he's not allowed to do any work until he's better, like take away all his electronics and tell him nothing but sleep and fluids for him and he'd be like help girl, I'm being oppressed, like.....yeah. Tim and the common cold even are like Marvel vs Capcom. He gets so much as a single sniffle and he stares at his slightly runny nose in the mirror and is like welcome to Fight Club, bitch.

You are also one hundred percent correct about certain members of the family, most notably Bruce, Tim, Cass, Steph, Dick and Babs like....having Trauma after No Man's Land, which is a HIGHLY underrated story that could use a LOT more examination. Even just because of how much it contained and encapsulated. Like the five of them and earthquakes.....they feel a slight shake and they're like WAS THAT A FUCKING TREMOR? THAT BETTER NOT HAVE BEEN A FUCKING TREMOR. And Jason and Damian are like uh.....guys?

(Although now I'm seguing into thoughts of like what if Jason returned to Gotham just the teensiest bit earlier, like, and he's like all primed and ready to go with his big master plan and then a fucking earthquake throws everything into chaos and he's like well dammit all to hell, now I have to HELP, there's no point in my Agenda when everything is up in the shitastrophere, I'm gonna have to help put everything back the way it was and THEN proceed as planned otherwise my plans are just fucked. And then that requires him like, oh no, oh woe, oh say it ain't so, like, COOPERATING with Bruce and the others for the good of Gotham and they're like uh why should we trust YOU, at like the least optimal moment for paranoia to rear its head and he's just like oh yeah, THIS is the downside of secrets and he's just like look, its ME you colossal nimrods, now can we all stop Mister Freeze from turning the East Side into his own personal Santa's Village already? But I digress.)

BUT back to Tim, I was thinking of like YJ stuff too (from the comics, not the cartoon) and like, I think Tim might actually have logged the most hours on space adventures (as Dick I think is runner up but most of the Titans' space adventures, he's not actually there, it was basically like just Tamaran and New Cronus). And point being, Tim NEVER has a good time in space. Like, it just doesn't end well. Actually, none of the Bats historically have ANY reason whatsoever to be fans of space even a little bit, so all of them who have been space travelers are like eww, no, dislike, we will keep our feeties firmly planted on Earth where there is gravity and also air and we are not inches away from an empty vacuum of death and despair at all times. But yeah, you bring up space around Tim and he makes a scowly face and then just vanishes before you can finish asking for volunteers for this one particular space mission.

"I'm super busy!" His voice echoes back from....somewhere in the vents.

"We haven't even said when the mission is," Superman frowns.

Tim: Oh. When is it?

Superman: Tuesday.

Tim: Oh yeah, I was afraid of that. Definitely busy then. Darn.

Superman: Wait, I stand corrected. Its actually the following Tuesday.

Tim: .....nope, still booked.

Superman: Really?

Tim: What can I say? Tuesday's are just historically a very busy time for me. Its the day right after the beginning of the week, its right before the middle of the week, its technically Tyr's day, who was the Norse god of justice and law, which as you know, are very key areas of focus around here, like....there's just a lot going on.

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cetaceans-pls · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Momentary Vampirism, Discussion of Blood bags, Family Bonding

The one where Bruce gets turned into a vampire, and Alfred has to call in the cavalry to deal with him.

Or, Dick comes through on a Friday night to help wrangle a reluctant bloodsucker.

Bro I just kind of went off on the concept of short-term vampirism and silverware, so here’s some Alfred-Dick-Bruce bonding over Bloody Marys and the different sorts of magic. Please enjoy this pick-me-up I wrote in one weird, frizzy sitting!

On tumblr below the cut:

“I came as soon as I could!” Dick says, rounding a corner so quickly he skids on the marble floor. The text had come through almost an hour ago, but he had been on the tail end of a Zoom interview (quitting policing this pandemic has been both terrifically easy and terribly hard) so between putting on pants and getting through Friday-night traffic, this is how things lie. “How is he?”

“‘He’ is fine, Dick, thank you for concern,” Bruce says tetchily from where he’s sat in the centre of the Yellow Room, surrounded six foot deep by Wayne Manor silverware haloing out around him. The UV lights they use at crime scenes are blaring harsh violet lines around the perimeter, and further out by the edges of the room, 6 of their portable sun lamps are turned off but trained right on him.

“This is all pointless,” Bruce carries on, sweeping his arm ‘round wide in a grand gesture, hissing when a brush against a silver-plated serving trolley has his hand sizzling. “Alfred really shouldn’t have called you.”

Dick ignores him completely to turn to Alfred, who has 3 sets of rosary beads hanging around his neck and irritation hanging from his eyes. “Uhm. I didn’t read further down the text than ‘B was attacked, please come over when you can’. I’m guessing I missed something?”

“You would be guessing right, Master Richard.” Alfred whips off a rosary and hangs it around Dick’s neck, and plops three teaspoons into a blazer pocket. “We aren’t sure quite who is to blame for this latest conundrum, but Batman was struck down by something while making rounds by the Cathedral. Master Bruce appears to have become a, a…” Alfred makes a disgusted noise, “a vampire of some sort, and had insisted I lock him up in a cell till a magic-user from the League could come by and take a look.”

Dick’s ashamed to admit that on hearing the word ‘vampire’ his fist had curled tightly around a teaspoon. After all, the bluntest edge can still manifest as a shiv, if you shove it in hard enough. He’s further shamed that Bruce clearly catches his micro-movement, and he just downright hates the pleased look B has at knowing that Dick is open to bodily violence against him.

Part of the commute time to get back to the Manor almost always involves him psyching himself up to deal with Bruce, and today it looks like it’s going to pay off.

“Okay, got it.” Dick deeply doesn’t, but bluffing can be as important as actually understanding, so. “Why’s he being kept here instead?”

“No master of the Manor,” Alfred says the way a lesser man would say ‘No son of mine’,”will be tossed into some cell while in full possession of himself, thank you very much.”

“I was going to start an automated protocol to have myself manacled and emergency-signal Superman to come by and potentially put me down,” Bruce interrupts from the near distance, “but I was lured here and now I’m trapped.”

Dick catches himself halfway through a laugh; he can’t help it. If Bruce really, really wanted to, escaping this room with its myriad hazards and shining lights would be possible, especially if the situation was so urgent that he was willing to risk serious injury for it.

If Bruce really, really thought he was a danger, thought deep in his messy little heart that he really, really could hurt or injure Alfred while it was just the two of them here waiting for reinforcements, Dick knows he would have grabbed the silver steak knife closest by and, ah, taken matters into his own hands.

It’s as ingrained a response as Dick instinctively putting himself between Bruce and Alfred even while his brain was still catching up to sudden vampirism, shiv-spoon (shvoon?) at the ready.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, untenses muscles that had been ready for something awful since the text had come through. “You’re finally more bat than man, B, so don’t bother pretending to be upset.” Dick spies a tray laden with soup and bread on a little coffee table and heads over, giving up guarding Alfred because their much scarier guard dog has just sprouted fangs. “Oh, man, tomato soup and garlic bread? Alfred, you think of everything.”

“I do try,” Alfred primly says, clearly satisfied that Dick is on his side. “And if you could see your way clear to getting Master Bruce to also partake?”

“I said no, Alfred!” Bruce’s voice cracks like sudden thunder across the room, and it would have been mighty terrifying with its slight unearthly timber if the UV lights bouncing off forks didn’t make the room look a lot like a rave. Even with his eyes starting to turn red, even with the harsh edges of his shape blurring into mist, Bruce can’t quite manage to intimidate.

Everyone in the room knows that it’s just for show, now, so even paranormal powers manifesting doesn’t slow down Dick’s enjoyment of soup. “C’mon, Bruce. It’s just like a blood transfusion, except you take it through the mouth. We all routinely take worse things through the mouth.” Just last week Dick had crunched on something while eating a bowl of soggy cereal he’d accidentally left out overnight, and the certainty that it was some sort of super-armoured cockroach haunts him till this day. “Is it a supply and demand thing? You can have some of my blood bags, Alfred can take some out of me while I’m here.”

“What an excellent suggestion, Master Richard. My blood has unfortunately been turned down because Master Bruce has some spectacularly backwards thoughts regarding older folk, but surely there’ll be no complaint for yours.”

“There are plenty of complaints!” Bruce roars, now up on his feet and pacing in the little circle at the centre of all the silver. “I will not eat anyone’s blood, I will stay in this space and meditate until Zatanna shows up and cures me. There is a magic user zapping vampirism into people in Gotham, and none of this will be solved by you sticking an arm under my teeth!”

His fangs are all the way out now, down almost to his chin, drawing scratches on stubbly skin. Under the native environment of the Bat, out in the night perched somewhere high, he’d be a terror.

Under the warm loving light of the Yellow Room, under the warm loving gaze of people who know him best, he’s more ‘angry hissing kitten’ than anything else.

Dick slurps the rest of the soup, and mops up the rest with the crusty bit of his garlic toast. “So, if it was me that got turned into a vampire, you’re telling me you… wouldn’t IV pump me full of blood fresh out your veins? If you lie to me I will throw a teaspoon at your head.”

There’s nothing but a mutinous quiet from Bruce, who’s huffing and misting and snarling and floating a good three inches off the ground. Good, at least he’s not feeling so pressed to the edge that he needed to lie.

“… I’ll take my own blood.”

Alfred sniffs, and it’s a dignified sound that somehow echoes in this fairly large room. “After your little altercation with Dr. Ivy last week, sir, your own supply is running unfortunately low. Two bags left, and I intend to keep them in case coming out of vampirism treats you poorly. No, sir, you’ll have a mug of Master Richard’s blood or so help me God I will tranquilise you and feed it to you myself.”

Alfred catches himself mid-rampage, and huffs a little while neatening the cuff of his shirt. “Those are your choices, sir. Pick one.”

Reading the room, it’s easy to tell that the hour it took Dick to get here from Bludhaven has likely been filled with that sort of tersely-worded bitching that Alfred and Bruce have down to the finest art. “A couple of pints of blood, Type D, coming right up. Bruce, I’d recommend just giving up right now. If Alfred works down the line, Jason’s coming in next, and that’s gonna end with a fist to the mouth.” Dick brushes crumbs off his hands, and jumps out of the crouch he’d been in on the arm of the sofa to head towards Alfred. “No one’s getting out of that without a broken finger or fang or both, so just take mine, okay? For us.”

Bruce doesn’t deign to actually say yes or fine , just seems to fade into shadows he’s manifesting himself, but it reads like a grumpy acceptance of defeat.

Good enough , thinks Dick. “Give us a sec, we’ll be right back. If you’re extra good, I’ll even make a Bloody Mary out of mine!”

Batarangs aren’t made of silver, but they sure do make a flashy thunk when they bite into a doorjamb a clean 10 feet away from the nearest person.

Alfred huffs a quiet laugh but Dick is much louder and substantially more insulting as they make their way down to the Cave.

The blood fridge is a thing of stainless steel tucked in a corner of the medbay, and it’s covered in magnets. The Wayne brood travel a lot, but Bats and Birds travel even more. It’s become a weird habit that got adopted like kids get adopted ‘round here; Dick looks at a cracked dinosaur magnet he’d bought at the Bludhaven Natural History Museum his first night out as Nightwing, and nostalgia hits harder than teeth in the neck. “We’re gonna need a bigger one of these soon, Alfred. We’re almost out of free real estate.”

“We shall persevere nonetheless, sir.” Alfred opens the fridge, and goes along the top row till he gets to the little placard with Dick’s face on it. The filing system remains sweetly, sweetly old-school, even if everyone knows where theirs is stored by feel alone, and each bag is barcoded with enough details to alarm even the most dedicated phlebotomist.

Looking over the racks, Dick whistles. “Bruce isn’t the only one who’s had a rough time recently, huh? Tim didn’t mention that the last Titans’ fight got him two bags down.”

For that, he gets his ear flicked. “Don’t snoop, Master Richard, it’s unbecoming.” Alfred takes a bag off Dick’s shelf and pops it into a cooler bag. He closes the door, and heads to the kitchenette in the Cave where he scrounges up a little metal straw. “Thank you for coming by so quickly. I was at my wits’ end trying to convince him to have just the littlest nibble. He tried to keep himself locked in the Batmobile when he came back via autopilot.” Alfred rinses the straw with more aggression than necessary. “I tugged on the handle, and the door was locked. A door, locked to me! In my own home!” He sounds as incensed as Alfred ever does, but he also goes to grab some tomato juice and a couple of sticks of celery, just in case.

“You wore him down for me, Alfred, I had it easy.” Dick quietly grabs another couple of bags of his blood, because deep deep down Bruce isn’t the only one hesitant about feeding on family, looks like. “Surprised you’d turn to me for this, though. Seems like more of a Tim thing, have him over with a 50-slide presentation on why vampirism’s really not that different to CPR, or something.” He swoops by Alfred’s side and picks up the cooler bag and the bucket of ice, because there are a lot of stairs from the Cave back up to Yellow, and kind men deserve kind things done on behalf of their creaking knees, thanks very much.

“You certainly have a point, Master Tim can be alarmingly persuasive with his statistics and, ah, unblinking stare.” Alfred doesn’t acknowledge Dick helping him with his things, just looks a little glad to have a hand free to hold on to the handrail, which is acknowledgement enough. “However, I have to admit that when I am at my wits’ end with Master Bruce, I always want to turn to you, Master Dick.” He pauses at the top of the stairs, turns and smiles his neat little smile at Dick who is finding balance harder to maintain than usual. “You have kept me company in my never-ending fight to care for Master Bruce longer than anyone else, after all.”

(Longer, longer, longer even than Bruce’s parents, God love them both.)

Alfred reaches out, pats Dick’s hand and nimbly reacquires his wares. “Do not under any circumstance tell the others, of course, but an old man is allowed his favourite ally.”

Dick is a whole-ass adult who’s lived through more things than people 15 times his age, he’s dressed in a smart suit and tie after an interview for a position as a flight paramedic, and he’s helped ward off the apocalypse at least on three separate occasions.

He knows enough about enough to know that their vampire-magician is deeply, deeply outclassed by Alfred’s mastery over spacetime, because right now Dick knows that if he looks down at himself, he’ll be 9 years old again, wearing oversized pyjamas as he tries not to cry because it’s his birthday and Alfred had made him a stack of pancakes the size of his head, while Bruce skulks by the door holding five separate tubs of ice cream, looking uncomfortable and uncertain and bound and determined to be a responsible parent

(like he’s bound and determined to be a responsible vampire).

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dick murmurs under his breath, rubbing his cheek to break the spell.

“Language,” Alfred’s voice floats back towards him, as they make their way back to the Yellow Room.

There’s a bit of a scuffle, trying to get Bruce to actually drink the blood. When Dick had casually tossed a bag at Bruce, it had been batted right back at him like the world’s weirdest opening to a game of ping-pong. Another fight almost broke out then, because at least a third of all of Gotham’s collective stubbornness was sat in the room at that point, but Dick managed to force through a resolution by making a Bloody bloody Mary for Bruce, and regular Bloody Marys for himself and Alfred.

They sit where they want, Bruce in his circle, Dick perched on a windowsill, and Alfred on the sofa, and they sip at their meticulously non-identical drinks. They’re on their third round of Bloody Marys and sweet idle conversation when the message comes through that Zatanna’s on her way, and the tension in the room drains as smoothly as they do their drinks.

“Ah, what perfect timing,” Alfred says like he hasn’t worked his way through an alarming amount of vodka. “Just in time for a really early breakfast.”

It’s 3 AM, and hopefully after unraveling vampirism Z will be interested in some god-tier chicken and waffles. Dick’s stomach is already rumbling, and he’s in an unspeakably good mood. It’s a trinity of trinities, three generations of Wayne and Wayne-adjacents, three Bloody Marys each, it’s three o'clock in the morning.

There’s a father, a son, and Alfred counts as their Holiest Ghost, probably. Funny that Bruce has to become unholy to make Dick feel gently religious, though that might be the vodka and dreams of fried chicken futures. “How’re you feeling, Bruce?”

Flushed with blood, Bruce looks healthier and heartier than he does on average, which is a fight to tackle a different night. “… Better,” he admits, digging a fang into a celery stick with an expression of deep concentration. “I could fly if I tried, I think.”

Dick whoops, and nearly drops his glass. “It’s that vitamin D, bay-bee.”

It even earns a chuckle from Alfred, and Dick can feel god in this Yellow Room tonight. “I think,” Dick says with utmost seriousness, “that being a vampire is a good look for you, B. Feels good to get you something, even if it’s just a drink.”

Feels good to be able to provide for you instead of the other way ‘round, is something a more sober Dick would think.

From his corner, Alfred raises his glass in a steady-handed toast. “Just a drink is plenty when just a drink is all you need. So here’s a toast to you, Master Dick. Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

In the middle of a sea of silverware, Bruce raises his glass too, and oh, now Dick’s the one gone red in the face.

“Any time,” he says, and he’s glad to know he means it. “Honestly, this makes me feel like B should get turned into a vampire more often.” There’s a lot of magic in the Manor tonight, and only the tiniest fraction of it has to do with their rogue magician. Dick can’t remember when he last spent this much time with just Alfred and Bruce, and it feels like a loose anchor digging in juuust right.

The world’s in turmoil and his personal life has seen better days, but there’s a tether that comes off from the Manor and these two men. Sometimes, it’s a noose.

More often than not, it’s a lifeline, and what a fine feeling it is to know that that goes both ways.

Dick doesn’t know what’s showing on his face, though by how Bruce is now sat up and intensely staring at him, he’s probably revealing way, way too sopping much.

Bruce clears his throat, and his flush deepens into a rosy, rosy red. “Well. As being a part-time vampire does have its advantages, it’s. Hmm. I will discuss it with Zatanna, and see what I can do.”

And geeze, time-travel magic must be inherited too because Dick’s been forced back to his 9th birthday again, to Bruce Wayne-the-literal-Batman hovering uncertainly while holding way too much ice cream as he tries to accommodate Dick in that stupid, awkward, and hideously embarrassing way only he knows how.

“I’ll toast to that,” Dick says, ignoring the terrible scratch and crack in his voice, and he and Bruce both only nearly lose it when Alfred raises his glass again, and

quietly, quietly

murmurs, “Here’s a toast to my family”.

#batfam #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #family bonding #whale writing #bro i watched a weird japanese tv show last week #and it just left me in the weirdest most off-kilter mood #there literally way no direction for this story #i just like the thought of alfred having different niche categories #he can assign favourites too #and also vampire bruce who can turn to mist but doesn't #bc he was raised right #anyways here's wonderwall

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chronicbatfictioner · 6 years

Text

A Real Boy - Chapter 14

Just as thing settled down in the magick front, Tim's 'plain' life started to bit back. The first order of the week was his father. Jack Drake had heard that Tim was in Metropolis during the supernatural and/or alien-based riots, and demanded that Tim should 'go back home' to Central City immediately.

Tim managed to evade the order - and avoided telling Dad that Central City was not his home - by sending an email from Bruce requesting his presence for a meeting for three days in a row; because 'Wayne Enterprises' Medical Division is wishing to form a Joint Venture with Drake Industries in order to facilitate the two businesses to generate larger revenue'.

"Blah, blah, blah." Tim grumbled as he hung up the phone with Dad.

"The email worked." Jason concluded.

"He was sold at the word 'revenue'. Thank goddesses for Bruce and Barbara's email manipulation skills." Tim told him. "So now, I'm good to go - or rather, to not go - until the weekends. I just..." he sighed. "Sometimes I wish I don't have to lie to dad and can just tell him what happened in my life, you know?" Jason scowled mockingly, and Tim chuckled. "Sorry, that was a hypothetical remark."

"At least you have a dad to lie to," Dick replied, appearing suddenly from the back of the servers.

Tim has decided that he should definitely utilize Jason's teleportation abilities and mostly reside at the Wayne Manor, and get to his own home by early morning. No matter how nosy they are, his neighbors, he reasoned, would not be suspicious; after all, he was a grad student with full-time job for his own company.

Dick was unmistakably delighted, as was Alfred. Bruce said that it was a "prudent decision, Tim," and was barely seen in the first few days Tim was there.

Barbara and Dick assured him that Bruce was as excited as they were of having Tim in the house. "He's just not used of having feels." Barbara deadpanned. "Just ask Dick, how many times in his life that Bruce had told him he loved him or proud of him or any other 'dad' stuff."

Tim smiled ruefully. "At least he hasn't told me he's disappointed in me."

The sudden awkward silence between Dick and Barbara - and Jason - was unmistakable. Fortunately, Jason was not one to let silence go on for too long. Neither was he one to hide his opinions. "Tim's dad is a royal ass and said he was disappointed that Tim wouldn't move to Central City." Jason quipped.

Tim huffed. "Thanks, Jay..."

"His stepmom was great, though. Obviously the logical brain in the household." Jason added.

Barbara smiled. "Yes, Dana Winters. She was one of my starter physiotherapist. She's good at her work, being a healer and all." she said. "What, you didn't know she's a healer fae?" she added at Tim's surprised glare. Tim then steered his glare to Jason.

"Uh... I thought you knew..." Jason replied sheepishly. "You always thought of her as a 'healer', I thought you meant that literally."

"Yeah, well, no. I didn't. She is a licensed physiotherapist. I just never... no wonder she was so tolerant of me..." Tim sighed. "Anyway! Who is this... Garfield Logan guy and why should I meet him?"

"He's a shapeshifter. Human shapeshifter," Dick clarified. "His transformation was due to a... well, misguided potion of some sort. He had contracted a deadly disease in rural Africa when he was a toddler, and his parents didn't think they could wait for a healer to arrive. They created a potion that would definitely cure him from the disease, but miss... either misspelled or mispronounced some incantation, and Gar... kinda turned green and was able to shapeshift to whatever creature he wants to be. He's 17, and... honestly, is still too young to be around us, you know?"

"You mean he crimps your style." Jason deadpanned.

"Naah, not at all. I'm just personally freaking out if I have to be responsible for a minor, that's all." Dick replied blithely.

"So he'll be the big-bro we don't need." Tim added.

"Technically, Jason is currently the big-bro you have right now, and he can't really be held accountable for anything..." Dick said.

"Technically, we don't need a big-bro baby sitter." Tim continued, nonplussed.

"Technically--" Dick stopped and heaved a sigh. "Okay, the thing is that Gar didn't feel like he belonged. He's much younger than all of us, and he thought he would rather be with those his own age. It was his idea to go and hang out with you guys, and we all thought it would be a good idea."

"Nice save." Jason quipped.

"Not a save..." Dick started again, but Tim cut him off.

"Whether it's because you don't want him, or he doesn't want to be with you guys. Whatever. I don't care. He can drop by this Friday and hang. If he can get along with everybody else, he can stick around. If he offends any of us, or act out - sorry, we don't have time to babysit, either." Tim decided.

"Okay," Dick relief seemed palpable, and Tim felt a little sorry for Garfield Logan. To be the one no one wanted to hang out with was not a strange feeling for him. He might have a lot of kids wanting to hang out with him through school; but they all wanted something from him - ranging from his brain to cheat from to job or business opportunities, due to the fact that he was managing Drake Industries.The gang was literally the first group of people who wanted nothing but to hang out with him, as a friend.

Sure, none of them have the funds Tim has; but it wasn't like they would simply leave the bills to Tim. He could still remember when Conner got his first stipend from helping out at the Kent's farm, and he bought everyone donuts. Or when Cassie got her first check from her published short fiction based on Greek mythology and bought them all dinner for the night, as well as a framed photo for Tim because she said he was the inspiration for the hero. Or when Bart tried to cook for them all and managed a very big pile of pancakes, because that was all that he could make, and finished half of it on his own.

The islet itself has a cabin - and said 'cabin' has twelve rooms. Once upon a time, Tim's mom had wondered aloud what it would be like to have and operate a Bed-and-Breakfast. When he bought the islet, Tim had decided to make a sort-of B&B, only with a lot more security installed - both magickal and technological - and not really open for public. From the outside, the islet looked as if it has a tiny little hut hidden in the middle of trees. From the land, it would be a minimalist flat building with a lot of rooms and an indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool in the middle, a large gym, an even larger games' room, and an industrial kitchen.

By that weekend, however, Tim discovered that Garfield Logan was not the only one he would be welcoming into the metaphorical clubhouse. He was about to introduce Garfield, who had arrived via the ocean - as a dolphin, no less - and saying that his family has an island a little farther North; when something crashed on the back of the clubhouse.

They scattered, with Bart ahead of the line and Tim was 'ported there by Jason in full protective mode to the point of, if Tim had allowed it, Jason would have probably ensconced him in a steel bubble or something along the line. Rachel and Cassie arrived a little later, followed by a cheetah-formed Garfield.

"It's... it's alive!" was Bart's first comment. Rachel stepped forward, ready to help. The human-formed something stirred, and its-- her hand glowed.

"Step back, Rach!" Cassie ordered and took the brunt of the sudden blast that fired from the injured woman's hand.

"Stop!" Tim commanded the injured woman. "you're hurt. We're not gonna harm you!"

Her eyes landed on Jason, still fully winged; and then Garfield who had just morphed back to human form, and then decided better and changed to a monkey. "Kory!" he squealed. "Kory it's me!"

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #JayTim #Garfield Logan #Rachel Roth #Cassie Sandsmark #Bart Allen #surprise guest #No-capeAU #Magi!AU

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villainsblog97 · 6 years

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Stray Kids Reaction Scenario: Watching a Horror Movie

Summary: A late, lazy night with just you and your boyfriend, curled up watching a scary movie, what could go wrong?

Just so you all know, there’s a only a few of these horror movies I’ve seen, the others I’m sort of winging it!

Chan:

You two were snuggled up on the couch, he requested you watch The Woman in Black, you weren’t too sure how you felt about it, but he wanted so bad to watch it with you, so you finally complied and sat down with him on the couch.

You kept hiding in his shoulder, every part of this movie scared the crap out of you.

“Chan!! I don’t like this movie!” You whined, he simply turned a little and turned your face to him.

“Look at me beautiful” he then pressed a tender kiss to your lips, and pulled you in closer, soon you didn’t care about the movie anymore, all you were focused on, was your boyfriend and the love he was giving you.

Woojin:

“Heeeres Johnny!” You heard as you screamed, that part always got to you, the blanket flew over your head and your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure why it always got to you, it’s an iconic scene in The Shining,

Woojin laughed as he saw you under the blankets like a little Kid.

“Come on out of there babe… its just a movie” he laughs as he pulls the blankets, it was around your shoulders, so when he pulled the blanket up it was sitting on your head like a hood.

Woojin then fell into a fit of laughter, he wasn’t sure how someone could look so cute, but yet here you were looking up at him with your big beautiful eyes.

“Oh my god! You look so cute right now!” He laughs.

“Don’t make fun of me Woo!” You smack his arm.

“Okay okay… how about we turn on something else?”

Minho:

You sat on the floor of your apartment ready to watch Friday the 13th.

Minho was very confident (after all he did rise from elimination), you wanted him to come over and celebrate Friday the 13th, watching the movie with Jason himself.

Your boyfriend had never seen it before, and you wanted to watch it with him.

“Minho… I’m not gonna lie this movie is pretty freakin scary” you smile as you put it in your DVD player.

“Please babe… its nothing your man can’t handle” he smirked as he held his arms out for you to lay into.

20 minutes into the movie and Minho was practically in your lap, jumping and screaming like a little Kid.

“NO RUN YOU DUMB GIRL JUST RUN!!!” He screamed, you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing him like this, granted this was your first horror movie you two had watched together, and you knew for a fact, this So wasn’t the last.

Changbin:

You two were watching the Japanese horror icon, The Grudge.

You two were on your bed watching the movie, his arm around you, The popcorn sitting on his lap.

You both hadn’t seen the movie, but Changbin wasn’t really phased by it at all in fact he found the horror graphics really cheesy and almost amusing, You on the other hand, were a shrieking, shaking mess, you kept squeezing Changbin’s arm tightly, and jumping at every scene.

He couldn’t help but make fun of you a little, it was amusing to see you like this, he began having a little too much fun with you, and kept making you jump himself.

“Binnie stop!” You whined as he laughed again.

“Sorry, it’s just too easy baby!”

He was laughing until one part of the movie made him jump and scream, then you were laughing hard.

“You should have seen your face!” You laughed as you fell onto his lap.

Hyunjin:

As Stray Kids visual, Hyunjin claimed he wasn’t afraid of anything!

You being his girlfriend, decided to put this theory to the test, with a little Paranormal Activity 3!

You sat down on the couch and laid out your choice of snacks on the coffee table.

“You really think this movie is gonna scare me?” He laughs.

“No… I just want to see if it does”

“Well… good luck with that…” he smiles as you push play.

You see him jump a few times but he never actually gives you the reaction you wanted, until he finally does.

Holding a bag of chips, just as he takes one out the bag, he jumps, screams and shakes the bag, sending chips all over your living room.

You laughed so hard you slid off the couch, onto the floor.

“OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO WORTH THE WAIT!!!” You laughed.

“Fine… You got me…” he blushed and looked away.

Jisung:

Jisung loved everything about you, no doubt about that, but there was always one thing he loved more than anything, was when you were clinging onto him during a scary movie.

You watched multiple movies and each time you always just held onto him, your arms around either his neck, or his arm, he loved it.

Jisung’s pick of the day was Insidious Chapter 2, you had seen the first one, now it was time for the second one.

As you watched the infamous lady in white walk toward the main character, your hand instantly found it’s way to Jisung’s sleeve, you gripped it tightly, holding onto him, your other arm slipping around his arm.

“She’s in the living room get out of there!” You squealed, shaking your boyfriend’s arm like a rag doll.

Jisung took this opportunity to snake his arm around you and pull you closer into him, but you slipped out as you jumped to seeing The Lady in White pop up behind the main character.

“Are you trying to make a move!?” You squealed at him.

“I was trying to…. but the stupid movie ruined that” he pouted.

You couldn’t help but laugh and gave him a kiss on the lips.

“Much better” he smiled.

Felix:

If there was one thing you hated more than anything in this entire world, it was Clowns, and your boyfriend Felix thought it would be a great idea to rent the 2017 movie IT.

“Lee Felix you know I hate clowns yet you rented the worst clown movie of them all!?” You squeal, he couldn’t help but laugh at how adorably scared you were.

Not even 5 mimutes Into the movie you were already screaming, you saw Pennywise’s demonic eyes in the sewer.

“Hi ya Goergie!” He squealed, as his face showed you grabbed onto Felix, practically in his lap, holding on for dear life.

“I hate you right now!” You whined.

When the movie was over you actually couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it, the Losers club was a badass team.

“So you liked it?” He asked.

“Yes. Yes I did!” You smiled, then looked at your room and got a worried expression.

“And now you want me to sleep next to you?”

“Yes, yes I would!”

That night you two laid in your bed, snuggled up tightly, and one question about made your eyes pop out of their sockets.

“So then, shall I mark the date for Part 2? ”

Seungmin:

Seungmin wasn’t really the type to enjoy the feeling that horror movies give you, however you really wanted him to watch one with you, a classic, every horror fan had seen it, and that was the infamous Scream.

You had everything set up like an actual theater, and you were more than happy to have him by your side to watch it.

But you were both equally scared, the jump scares and loud dramatic music only made you two jump out of your skin, many times you two were tempted to turn it off, but you wanted to see how it ended.

In the end you two were white in the face, and thought you needed a happy movie to recover from the other.

“How does Big Hero 6 sound!?” He asks laughing.

Jeongin:

Dolls, you hated dolls, if there was anything in this world that your feared the most, it was freaking dolls.

Jeongin was coming over tonight, and said he brought a special movie surprise with him, when he got inside he pulled out the movie from his backpack.

“TA-DA!” He said holding up the movie.

“Oh hell no Jeongin!!!!” You screamed as you saw him holding (Yes you guessed it) Annabelle.

“Awe why not?” He whined.

“I’m scared, no scratch that… I’m Terrified of dolls!” You groaned, no way was he making you watch the worst horror movie ever.

“Pretty please… maybe it will cure your phobia!”

“Or make it worse”

“Pleeeeeeaaasse!?” He whined.

Three arguments later you were watching the movie griping tightly to the blanket over you and Jeongin, he kept holding your hand to try and calm your nerves, which worked a little, but so many times you screamed and hide your face in the pillow on the couch.

“I don’t like this movie Jeonginie!!!” You whined.

He only laughed a little bit, because he had never seen you so helpless.

“I’m sorry Babe… You just look so cute and helpless, I wonder what other scary movies we can watch!?”

Evil Maknae strikes again!

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nightcoremoon · 4 years

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no offense but ouija boards and prayer* have the same level of power.

which is none whatsoever.

it's a fucking stick and some hopeful thoughts.

you're not gonna summon demons or talk to ghosts, and you're not gonna cure grandma's cancer.

*I'm not talking about jews or muslims which have a different system of faith entirely than christianity which is what i'm talking about. discoursers calm your tits, you're not gonna get any woke points or popularity from this post.

ouija boards merely operate on humanity's subconscious mind to make our hands show us the letters we want to see, just like a pendulum based gender test. you hold a pendulum over a person's palm and if it goes in a circle they're a girl and if it goes in a straight line they're a boy. except wait, there's no scientific reason behind that- yet it works. but wait, there IS a scientific reason behind that. it's because your brain will send covert signals to your hand that will make you add velocity to the pendulum whether it's rotational or newtonian, without you ever being consciously aware of it. ouija boards are the same way, except when you're like four or five people it's a lot easier to do because you're literally at least quadrupling the amount of movement which could result in possibly an oooohhhh spooky ghost moment. except that's a load of shit. beelzebub, prince stolas, and screwtape don't give a fuck about ouija boards. if they wanted to possess you they'd have done it already.

and I've discussed my thoughts on christian prayer before. if god awards miracles based on how many people pray for a person, christianity is a popularity contest. he isn't gonna charge you a dozen hail-marys for a sin, he already paid off all of humanity's sin through jesus. it doesn't make any goddamn sense. if I prayed for my sister's baby's safety, it wouldn't do shit since the baby's survival is directly dependent on the actions of my sister and all the medical professionals she births with. if all the dumbass republicans prayed for school shootings to end, it wouldn't do shit since school shootings are caused by male ego, entitlement, unregulated access to firearms, bigotry, toxic masculinity, and to a very minor degree, a supreme lack of mental health education, awareness, and care. I'm not saying that every mentally ill person is violent and dangerous, nor that every violent and dangerous person is mentally ill, or even that all school shooters are cishet white men; just that if a shooter were mentally ill, they did not receive the help they may have needed. because if they did get that help they probably wouldn't have killed people in that situation. but I don't give a shit if klebold and harris WERE depressed and suicidal, they were fucking neo nazis. and anyway, if everyone in the world just prayed sickness and disease and viruses away then surely there wouldn't be any sickness and disease and virus. prayer is a stupid fucking concept and it DOES NOT WORK post-christ. it doesn't need to. god can just sit back and let his creations go fucking crazy since they're all covered and secure in their one way tickets to heaven. Catholics, Protestants, Orthodoxy, and every other denomination who disagrees,

SHUT THE FUCK UP

because I don't care what you have to say.

again, since discoursers have shit idiot brain fungus and can't read, jewish/muslim prayer is its own thing and I am not discussing those at this time mainly because I don't know much about those religions. same goes for any other non-christian religions that utilize prayer. this is purely a discussion about christian prayer. ok? great.

now, as I discussed earlier about the ouija boards and why I even mentioned them in the first place, is remember what I said about the pendulum? your brain subconsciously nudges your hand in the direction you want it to go in? well, prayer and having a relationship with god and talking to him is basically rubberducking. prayer is literally just rubberducking god. you won't magically bless the rains down in africa but if you pray it can often give you hope to conquer the obstacles in your way because if you truly believe god can help you overcome your obstacles, god has blessed you with the greatest miracle of all: hope. if you need just that little bit of extra oomph, you can reach down into your reserves and make it one step higher. god didn't wave his wand and tap his heels three times saying there's no place like home, he already handcrafted humanity with the inherent ability to achieve, to excel, to take one more step even if all seems lost and there's nothing good left in the world. if you talk to god you can logic your way through most of your problems. you treat god as a perfect and all powerful being, you talk up to him, you lay out your humility and your shame and your grief and all the emotions that society wants you to bottle up and you bare your soul, then even if there wasn't a god out there listening, you're still spiritually healing by letting the toxicity and the negativity out and talking out your problem so your subconscious kind can start to feed you solutions. god isn't sending you those messages direct via fucking bluetooth, he has already made us with those tools necessary to get us through dark days and fought times.

prayer doesn't work. not in the way you think it does. it only has the power that you yourself give it. prayer is just the middleman between hyping yourself up and giving you hope and unlocking the answers through the power of your own logic brain. prayer CAN help you if you utilize it PROPERLY. but it's not a magic trick. not like ouija boards. which are totally harmless outside of shit-tier horror movies. if you're afraid of ouija boards, you might as well lock the door in case Freddy's waiting for you, bar the windows in case Jason's watching you, get a $20 bill ready in case Slenderman wants a hug, saw the legs off your bed to squish the goddamn Boogeyman, and never say a phrase three times in a dark bathroom with a mirror: not Bloody Mary, not Candyman, no, not even Beetlejuice. Because those all hold the same power as fucking ouija boards.

"But I once had a scary experience with a ouija board" no you didn't, you freaked yourself out over nothing because you believe in silly little superstitions. And even if you did, the reason WHY the demons are harassing you is because you're easy prey. You let them get control over you. You gave up. Me? Beelzebub's a punkass little bitch and nowhere near as cool as Prince Stolas. In fact, I wish ouija boards had power because I'd love to chat with Prince Stolas. I mean yeah he commands 26 legions of hell... but I'd chat with him about science shit all day.

That's right kids. I'm glorifying ouija boards and demons while decrying the power of prayer. I'm rubbing my grubby little blasphemous queer hands all over your precious little religion. The fuck you gonna do about it?

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disappearingground · 5 years

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PRODIGAL DAUGHTER Jenny Lewis

Blurt Magazine February 20, 2009

Last year the Rilo Kiley vocalist took a vacation from her band, visited her hometown, and wound up with a solo album.

By A.D. Amorosi

Going back and forth between the past and the present, the inane and the barely passably sensible is pleasing to Jenny Lewis.

That’s her life and that’s her wife, what with having spent the better part of growing up absurdly in one brand of show-bizzy limelight or another; a child of vaudevillians and entertainer-types, a kid actress, a country-tinged pop band chanteuse, a mistress of wordy Saddle Creek-y solo album (Rabbit Fur Coat) éclat.

“And now is my time,” says Jenny Lewis crisply. “My time.”

Not just because she’s away again from that old California gang of hers – the now decade-old Rilo Kiley that she birthed with guitarist/one-time paramour Blake Sennett. Or that she’s simply releasing her second solo effort in two years.

Jenny Lewis has produced Acid Tongue – a damn-near live album that’s got no Pro-Tools, is all analog, is far less wordy than her previous recordings, and whose vocals were tracked as they were happening. Lewis produced it with some old close friends and brought in a few pals to play and sing.

But it’s her.

You can’t help thinking that having her return to her childhood home (the one between Las Vegas and L.A.) of Van Nuys to record Acid Tongue wasn’t just the work of healing old wounds (“Badman’s World”) wounding old heels (“The Next Messiah”) and reconstructing the Oedipal Complex for 2008 (“Jack Killed Mom”), but rather some sassy shout-out of independence and huzzah-huzzah-hoorah-ness.

Besides, there’s got to be some particular self-satisfaction at work; of divinity, silliness and narcissism that would allow her to place her face on the cover of this new album done up as dozens of acid blotter tabs.

“Well, you may as well have a laugh,” says Lewis, about her lysergic cover art. “And if you were to drop a tab, you might very well see as many mes standing before you.”

That doesn’t sound so bad.

From the reaction to 2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat – produced by her bud Conor Oberst’s Bright Eyes stalwart Mike Mogis – a couple-hundred Jennys would be great. She did three tours around that solo effort alone. But it’s always seemed as if Jenny-philes have wanted more of her. No sooner than people liked Rilo’s quirky irked brand of indie-country-pop, Lewis’s soulful squint of a voice and panicky character-driven lyrics (2001s Take Offs and Landings on Barsuk), they wanted the band to go major label and her to go solo. The moment she released something small and the band hit the majors (with 2007s Under the Blacklight for Warners), people wanted more solo stuff from Jenny.

Everybody seems to be waiting for something from her.

“I don’t know why they’re waiting. I’m incredibly stubborn and I probably won’t give them what they want,” she says plainly. She is her own driving force and won’t be cadged into doing more solo projects. She does records with whatever speed and volume because she is not yet satisfied. “I never am and never have been. I want more. I never assume that I’ve done all that I can do. That just happens to be one of my character traits.”

Jenny Lewis dictates the pace. Things have been as such since she decided to become a writer and singer.

Stop.

This is not the question where you ask her about the childhood acting thing. This is the question about the through line that exists between those careers; the one beyond “Show biz.” She goes on to tell me a family history.

Grandmother was a head balancer and dancer with Moscow circus. Grandfather was a small time criminal and singer with vaudevillian Burt Lahr who fell into depression and out of music when Lahr left the act to pursue the role of “Cowardly Lion” in The Wizard of Oz. Both of her parents were musicians who had a lounge act in Las Vegas and were on The Ed Sullivan Show.

“My birth was just a continuation of family business,” she giggles. “But it was also about the continued avoidance – for me – of avoiding the straight life, a regular job. That’s what show biz presents itself as always, a viable option from doing normal 9-to-5 stuff.”

So maybe it’s all one big gesture. But I’m not here interviewing a Jenny Lewis of Facts of Life fame or a Jenny Lewis star of the touring version of The Lion King or a Jenny Lewis known for hosting a reality show and singing for Disney.

Without sounding too lofty, this brand of Lewis found a deeper aesthetic direction, an art form amongst the entertaining bits.

“That’s the only difference I think… I am a writer,” she says. That’s what led her upon meeting Blake Sennett to write their first song together, “Eggs.” “It was before Rilo Kiley. At least before we were called Rilo Kiley. It was on the first day we met.” Sennett had a guitar riff. She had a four track. He laid it down and she wrote stuff over it.

But this is not a Rilo Kiley story.

“Yes,” Lewis says quietly, when I ask if she feels like she and Rilo have grown up together. “In some ways; but I don’t know that we’ll truly grow up.”

Yes. Most of her Rilo Kiley lyrics are less personal than those on her first solo album. But on the new Acid Tongue there’s a darker, deeper mix of the personal and the character-narrative. “There’s so much more Rilo stuff so there’s been more to experiment with and more time for it. But I was comfortable enough here to do both character-driven songs and personal ones.” Does that mean she’ll find a zone in Rilo in which to do both? Or is she better off keeping the personal tunes like “Tryin’ My Best” to herself and for herself?

“To know that there’s someone else you’re singing about can weigh just as heavily as a song you’re singing about yourself,” says Lewis. “Sometimes the personal songs are easier. Sometimes the personal songs bore me.”

She’s tired of hearing of hearing herself complain about stuff. “That is until I write another song about me complaining about stuff.”

Maybe she’s getting better at being solo than Rilo Kiley-ing. She doesn’t know yet. Lewis can say that this Acid Tongue experience – recorded in the same studio where Neil Young did After the Gold Rush and Nirvana did Nevermind – was the most comfortable she’s ever felt in the studio; so comfortable that she was able to sing the songs in their entirety. “The whole record is live, live singing, live playing. I haven’t been able to do that in the past. This may sound a little hippie dippy-ish but I just never felt free enough to do that. I was always self-conscious in the studio.”

Her three weeks spent recording Acid Tongue were planned, but ever so loosely. If they could pull it off the live haste and pace – great.

The title song’s first line – written who-knows-how-many-years-ago when she was living in her Silverlake apartment where she wrote 90 percent of all of her songs – was the start of the record:

I went to a cobbler to fix a hole in my shoe/he took one look at my face/and said “I can fix that hole in you”/“I beg your pardon I’m not looking for a cure/I’ve seen enough of my friends in the depths of the God-sick blues”/you know I’m a liar.

The line didn’t dictate what would happen next. Nor does it sound like anything else on the album. “But there was just something about that first line coming to me; the idea of someone having an answer for you, a solution to something, the sadness of that,” she trails off. “It was a feeling I wanted to go with.”

So Lewis and her co-producer pals Farmer Dave Scher, Jason Lader and songwriter/beau Johnathan Rice, along with musicians/singers Chris Robinson (the Black Crowes), Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, Benji Hughes and Davey Faragher, all got Acid-ic. So did family members like her vibraphone playing uncle, her singing sisters and – amazingly- Elvis Costello.

“Once we got to the studio it was good and flowed very quickly,” claims Lewis. “We could pull it off. We could play it live. Which is so weird, to have to make a point of that, because that’s what music should be. But I’m a child of the digital revolution.”

I stopped to finish a thought I‘d had earlier: that if she’s having such a good time with people other than Rilo Kiley, is she worried that she might be better at being solo than a Kiley-ite. She’s not. She just wants to make the best music possible with whatever bunch of people she makes it with. She didn’t start playing music to be burdened by her relationships and be miserable. She wants to enjoy myself.

“Now’s the time.” Not just because the moment out there is good. But, not to sound hippie-dippy-ish… “The moment within me is good. I’m just starting to understand what I do.”

And that understanding is? “I’m just learning how to trust myself musically. I’m learning that you don’t have to say as much to make a point.”

True, that. Yes, the inspiration of Laura Nyro’s Gonna Take a Miracle – the spare soul momentum, delirious melody, awestruck joy and the lean accompaniment of the trio of singers that was Labelle – was the backbone for Rabbit Fur Coat. So, too, was a loquaciousness and a series of multi-syllabic phrases that filled every crevice of every song.

Acid Tongue – lyrically – is more economical than that.

“That was a conscious decision. Going back and listening to my older songs I think I was trying to prove something – overstating the obvious.” So she went back over Acid Tongue things and scaled back the syllables. That happened, too, because this album was as much about the total package as it was the worried words and dark passages. The expansive, sometimes-psychedelic harshness is a far cry from Nyro’s stewing Tin-Pan soul and Lewis’ mom’s favorite songwriter.

“Plus the location was more important” says Lewis, discussing Van Nuys’ California’s Sound City Studios. “We were all inspired by the records that’ve been made there. Plus, returning to where I grew up was timely. I needed to address things about my personal life, my past.”

Lewis isn’t so completely revealing as to what she was addressing. You don’t necessarily need her to do so, save for the fact that she expressed pain at having to drive past her childhood home every day as she rode to the studio and then realized that she couldn’t run from things bottled up.

“You cannot run from feelings. You will be unwell. They will affect all that you do. It will ruin your health. In order to do that, I had to make this record there.”

Ask her to focus on the track that best reflects that search for addressing those feelings, for picking at your emotions: she chooses “Badman’s World.”

There’s a certain line that listeners should seek out during that haunted song. Lewis doesn’t know if it’s a necessarily poignant phrase. But it was important enough to stop the recording of another track – “Sing a Song” – as she came up with a twist on “Badman’s World.” Lewis started playing “Badman” on piano only to have the rest of the band join in and the control room ops continue taping.

The line is about scorpions. Originally it was about her and another person being two scorpions in one bottle. Now, it’s about one of those scorpions getting shot by Lewis. Which one gets shot is a mystery worthy of J.R. and Dallas.

“You have to take responsibility,” says Lewis, when asked what the point of the “Badman’s World” is.

Yet the whole album seems to be about her taking responsibility.

She won’t take full credit for the economy of its lyrics not matching the ferocity of its sound. Lewis credits her co-producers and mentions Johnathan Rice. “The four of us together formed one great person.”

That she’s brought up Rice twice and that she’s made music in close proximity with another one-time paramour, Rilo’s Sennett, the questions arise about it being hard or desirable to work with someone you’re having a loving relationship with.

“It is what I do and what I’ve done. It’s just very natural. I’m always thinking about music. Every time, every day, writing words, listening back, criticizing myself. It’s nice to have someone who is up for sharing in that at all times of day at all hours.”

It is a risk, she knows, because you’re chancing personal happiness and the longevity of the relationship. But she knows she has to do it. “You got to do it. And as a woman playing music, it’s nice to have someone by your side… because I am a coward,” she giggles. “Seriously. I’m lucky to have had talented dudes around me.”

Speaking of talented dudes, Elvis Costello worms his way into the conversation in the same fashion he wormed his way onto Acid Tongue. Apparently she first spoke to the British lion when having Christmas with a friend’s father – Costello drummer Pete Thomas. Costello phoned to wish Pete merry-merry, got Lewis on the phone, got her to appear in his “Monkey to Man” video (“I did an awkward walk-by clutching a purse”), then wound up dueting on “Carpetbaggers” when Rice was up for the low singing parts.

“I emailed him. He responded. And in exchange we recorded some of his songs. The vibe was so good there that as soon as we finished mixing, Costello went into make his own record there.”

Like Costello grabbing a lick, all the heavy heady sad moments that fill Lewis’ Acid Tongue are ripe with lightness of being, of funny moments and gentle sessions. The funniest seems the sweetest – the mad-mad-Jim Morrison moment of “Jack Killed Mom.” While the whole song seems to seethe with its death knell promise (“I had to kill off the mother character that was so prominent on Rabbit Fur Coat,” says Lewis), it is her harmonica-blowing dad, jazz-bo Eddie Gordon, on the track.

“I was so tired of talking about my mother from that last record that having my dad play on it was just hilarious. Having him and my family and my friends in the studio felt like an honest record.”

Now let’s back to those acid tabs.

#publication: blurt magazine #album: acid tongue #year: 2009 #mention: cover art #mention: family history #mention: rilo kiley formation #person: blake sennett #mention: songwriting #mention: recording process #song: acid tongue #song: bad man's world #person: johnathan rice #person: elvis costello #song: jack killed mom

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