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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

#foster au #resident evil au #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #dimitrescu daughters #a little unconventional

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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iammarylastar · 3 years

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9. FAREWELL

"So, you're leaving without saying goodbye?"

She said, her voice like a ghost.

Shit.

Cal leaned his hand on the door frame, his forehead followed and he closed his eyes. He could feel Jess trembling behind his back, he could foresee her face soaked in tears, her sobs stuck in her chest.

Shit.

Leaving her was the hardest thing he had ever done, he doubted he could gather the strength to walk out the door, but now she was awake, crying, he knew it would be impossible.

Yet, he had to.

"Chris?" She begged.

He had planned everything, every little detail, like he already had, to break Oyster out.

He got all his stuff ready: a car fueled up, the maps with all the secondary roads highlighted, 4 different options to cross the Canadian border. His backpack, enough military rations to survive for 2 weeks, in case he'd have to ditch the car and cover the distance by foot. A compass. An extra pair of trekking shoes, just in case. Water. Lighter. Headlamp. Emergency kit. US dollars. Canadian dollars.

No phone.

No pics, not even one of Jessica. He wouldn't risk to get caught and have her involved. Beside it would be too painful to look at her beautiful face. Dealing with her memory would be hard enough.

But he had no choice. More than 3 years he hadn't see his brother. 3 fucking long years he hadn't heard his voice. Teddy, his little brother, the reason he had kept living after their mom died, the one he had fought for. And kept fighting for.

He'd all planned in his head, playing every scenario again and again at night, all those sleepless nights, Jess cuddled against his chest. Looking blankly at the ceiling, on the hunt for what could happen, what could turn wrong, and come what may: keep walking.

Until he reaches Lac-Sainte-Marie, Quebec, 260 miles from here. Until he meets his brother again.

"Chris!" She yelped, like she was drowning.

For a millisecond, he thought he could just give up: forget his little ass of a brother, forget his oath to his mother, forget his responsibilities, drop on his knees and beg Jess to marry him, give her 3 kids, get a pet and live happily ever after. Why not? He deserved a little of happiness, didn't he?

"What is happening?" she whispered, her voice torn by sobs, like stabs in his back.

What the fuck was happening, good question. He was happening. That fucking deceiving Cal was freaking out and ruining everything again. Like it was meant to be.

Like he was meant to screw up every chance of happiness.

"I have to see him. Jess, he got back in touch with me. Those postcards. There must be a reason." He said under his breath, not daring to glance at her.

"Chris, you're still in probation! A single step out of the State and you're in parole violation! You're going to get caught and thrown into jail again!" She knew this argument wouldn't work with him, but she was a lawyer, well almost, she had to plead for her case.

"I know..." Chris whispered. The next words would be excruciating to pronounce.

"That's why I won't come back..."

"Noooo!" She totally broke down.

As he listened to her heart shattering into pieces, taking his own heart down, he couldn't help thinking about time.

It took her days to tame his fears, weeks to heal him for his trauma, months to forge deep, trustful ties between their hearts.

Ties they both thought were unbreakable.

And as it took a heartbeat to fall in love with her, he'd been quick to break her heart.

Now he was running out of time. With her. For Oyster. Fuck.

"At least wait for your probation period to be over! You'll be a free man and you could go wherever you want!" She begged.

Like he didn't know. Like he hadn't spent the last days counting how many days it would take to be reunited. Like he hadn't thought of it from top to bottom. Like he hadn't been obsessed and torn about that fucking choice he had to make.

"Three more years! Jess, I can't leave him alone for 3 more fucking years! He needs me!" He let his anger flow out of his chest.

"What about me????" She thundered, gripping her nightie where her heart ached, then pointing a furious index finger out.

"He's not a kid anymore! He made his choice! You don't owe him anything anymore! When are you going to start thinking about yourself? About us?"

Touché.

Cal wavered at her words. The more she spoke, the more his determination weakened. He had no choice but cling to his same old song.

"I'm his legal guardian, I promised mom I'd take care of him. I can't break my oath. Not again..."

It would have been easier if Chris was the selfish type. But he didn't choose Marine corps and law enforcement by mistake. He was a man of principle, loyal, honest, trustful. A man with Semper Fidelis inked in his flesh forever.

"Chris!!" Jess was burning with rage and desperation. She was fed up with his sempiternal lame excuses.

She would have slapped his face full force if she could have moved, again and again until he got it, but violence never fixed anything, she was dead certain of this.

Chris’ childhood to adulthood, his former job in the Marine corps, his time in jail, his whole damn life had been nothing but violence, he deserved better from her.

She breathed in and out slowly to calm her nerves down and regain control of her thoughts.

Give him what he needs, that's the only way...

"You're strong Chris. You're a good man! Why can't you see it?"

Cal shook his head, tears threatening again behind his lids.

"I failed. I failed to keep my mom alive. I failed to protect my brother. To serve my country... To make you happy. I don't deserve you..."

"When are you going to stop punishing yourself for things, you're not responsible for? Jesus, your mom died, who's to blame? Not you! You struggled to provide for your brother though you were barely an adult, Chris, you did your best! Oyster made some bad choices, his choices, he fucked up but it was not your fault!"

Gone his sweetheart of a girlfriend, he was facing a new, fierce, unstoppable soldier ready for anything for her love.

Anything. Maybe, even ready to throw everything away for him.

Cal slowly extended his hand to a trembling Jess. This gesture was a dangerous step back, he had promised himself not to touch her, not to smell her nor to get too close. No way he could leave this place without her if their hands were linked.

Jess nearly jumped forward to take it, intertwined her fingers so tightly with his, their knuckles turned white. She closed her other hand over their clasped ones, then pulled them against her cheek, nuzzling against the slightest piece of his skin she could.

The contact of her skin against his made him jolt. His plea slipped through his lips before his brain realized their impact.

"Come with me. I hate to put that on you but... Jess, come with me. I don't want to lose you..."

His words were like slaps in her face. Her jaw dropped down and the look she threw at him slapped him back.

Shit.

She thought she had won. She thought he had heard her words. She thought he would stay. Why would he have offered his hand otherwise?

"Wh..? But... Cal, what are you doing?"

"Come with me Jessica. Let's start a new life in Canada. I love you. I love you!"

His turn to wrap his hand around hers and pull her closer, so his gaze pierced hers, his taut body hovering over her. This could fix everything.

Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!!

Jessica froze in shock, her pupils widened. She would have left all she had behind to follow him. The solution was easy: just go with him!

Just go with him, and become an outlaw. Say goodbye to your family, your career, your dreams, your life. On the run forever with the man she loved. With no future but hiding and lying.

"And you saved your first 'I love you' for the day you leave me..." Jess whispered under her breath, defeated. He killed her hope the second before, and kept doing an excellent job to trample on her heart.

Her whole body slumped down; Cal had to tighten his grip on her hands to get her upright.

Her pale complexion and her trembling voice made her look like a ghost.

"No. I can't. You can't... do that. You can't drag me into a runaway and make me a fugitive. I... I'm... My family is here, my career is here, my life is here... with you!

If you really love me, STAY!"

Chris wobbled, his knees weak under him. She was right, he knew it. He was wrong, doing all wrong, as he always had done. Jessica saw her chance in his hesitation, and played her last card. Faithfulness, Chris' obsession.

"That's not what you promised me. Chris, you promised me..." she burst into tears again, clinging onto him like he was a lifeline. Their love was like the Titanic, they thought it beautiful and in submersible, but it was irremediably sinking in the middle of nowhere and will end up broken shipwreck.

Hold on Rose, you have a chance.

Sorry Jack, you're screwed.

Shit.

He promised her, that day he talked his heart out, in the wee hours of a beautiful day, lying in bed, slowly brushing her delicate face with his fingertips. That day he told her about his plans for the future, their future. Openly daydreaming of his will to marry her, build her a house, have kids with her, three he said, if she agreed. Plus, a dog. One day, he promised, when she would graduate and he would have a better job.

He solemnly promised her to make her happy, happy ever after.

"You deserve to be happy, Chris. We've been so happy together. For fuck sake, why couldn't we just be happy?"

Because happiness is not meant for me.

"Jess, I miss him so much... I have no choice."

"There's always a choice... Let me help!" She begged a last time, squeezing his hands even tightly.

Chris closed his eyes, his sigh shaky through his tight throat. Just do it. Say it.

Now.

"No. Not this time... Let me go, Jess, please..." Chris grudgingly untied their fingers but Jess kept gripping at him, his wrists, his arms, his hoodie. He patiently unhooked each of her attempt, gently but firmly holding her wrists together.

It was so hard, Jesus, to see her face, desperate and drowned in tears, to hear a plea, to hurt her so deeply. But it had to be done. Like ripping off a band-aid. Just do it.

"No, no, no, no, Chris, please, nooo!" She begged, she would have given anything, everything to have him think, find another way, change his fucking mind. To have him stay. Choose her.

All her expectations vanished when Cal took her hands in his large palms, bent to kiss them but just leant his forehead on them, shaken by both their sobs and cries. He knew he couldn't leave if his lips touched her skin again. She knew it too.

Slowly, too slowly, he extended his arms until her fists laid on her chest, her fingers writhing in pain, and stepped back. Unable to look a last time in her eyes, Cal turned his heels and grabbed the doorknob.

"What if I'm pregnant?"

He froze, like punched in his guts.

"What?" His world collapsed. He had all the scenarios figured out, even the worst, but not this one.

He had made love to her earlier that night, knowing it'd be the last time. He made it last long, savoring each second with her, kissing each piece of her body, learning each of her curves by heart with his fingertips. He made it sensual, passionate, beautiful. He had given her all, all of him.

He had laid on his back for hours, his love cuddled on his side, her arms around his chest, like to keep him from running away. Like she felt it.

He had stayed like this forever, staring at the ceiling, listening to her deep breathing, feeling her, smelling her, until he was drunk from her.

"I said, what if I'm pregnant." She stated again, interrupting his thoughts.

"Are you?" He blankly asked.

She might be. From tonight.

She could be. They've been careless for a couple of weeks, their desire so strong they skipped to put a condom on. They both silently agreed, since they had a talk about it: they wanted to spend their lives together and grow a family, one day or another...

Jess had tried the pill, but it hadn't fit her. She tried 3 different brands but every time something went wrong. Cal hated seeing her with cramps or moody and IUD was a big no no due to her young age, so he decided to take the responsibility of the birth control, and simply pulled out at the right time.

Which was, according to Jess, like a firework without the final. Several times, half of the time in fact, she trapped Cal between her legs so he came inside of her. She found it so sexy and powerful.

Sexy but likely give rise to a baby.

Their baby. His.

"You won't stay for me. Would you stay for your child?"

Bitch. She knew how push his button, where it hurt the most. Given what he was doing to her, it was fair.

His guts twisted painfully and nausea invaded his throat at the thought. His deepest nightmare resurfaced: a kid with no father to take care of them, ruffle their hair, tickle them until they're breathless from laughing, play football with them, hug them tight when they're scared or sad. A kid with no dad to love them. A kid like he'd been, grown up before his childhood even had started.

A missing father. That was what he would become if he left now. The worst of the worst. A man he promised himself to never be. Fucking never hurt someone like he'd been hurt.

He unsuccessfully was trying to clear his mind from sadness and anger to redo his math and remember when was her last period. Calculate the odds of a pregnancy. Rate his chance to stay.

Zero.

He sucked. He wasn’t worth anything.

Maybe living was the best he could do to save this child from himself. He was no better father than his own, unable to make a good decision.

Chris dropped his head, his hands tightened in fists, his eyes closed in a frown. He stopped breathing for a long time, until he made his decision.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, grabbing the doorknob.

That was it. She couldn't go, he couldn't stay. I guess that's just the way the story goes.

Such a waste.

Chris pushed the door open, wiped his tears with his sleeve and walked out, without a last glance at her.

#jai courtney #semper fi #fanfiction

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jackblankhsh · 5 years

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Why I Quit -- Santa’s Elf

"In my Mom's rendition, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer eventually goes on a rampage, beating elves to death with his hooves, and disemboweling reindeer with his antlers. As for Santa, well, lemme just say ho-ho-holy shit. Thing is I can't help thinking she taught me the right & wrong lesson with her variation.

"Allow me to elaborate.

"Nothing motivates a person to grasp at any job like a looming eviction that'll cast one out into Chicago winter. It is a wicked season. Polar bears stalk the streets. Great glacial mounds dot the city wherever the homeless, huddled together for warmth, have frozen into human icebergs. And always there those driven mad by cabin fever who turn into winter banshees, their screams echoing down the icy streets.

"Call me a coward, but I've lived here long enough to know better than risk Winter on the streets. So, following the word of a grape vine bird, I went to the Brick House Diner. There I found Chari chowing down on a burrito.

"Chari is a queen in the skin grift game commonly known as stripping, though she prefers the term gash flasher. Folks often misperceive Chari, given that she spells 'Cherry' C-H-A-R-I; however, she's certainly innovative. Consider how she alters her act for holidays. Around Easter she dances as Bunny, near the Fourth of July she's Booty Ross, and close to Giftmas she's Mary Christmas -- 'merry' spelled M-A-R-Y.

"We met at a bachelor party. When the groom asked if Chari might be inclined to acts other than sexy dancing she rewarded those hooker implications by performing an act of surra de bunda so severe it broke his nose and gave him a concussion. Always respect a woman who can use her butt as a wrecking ball.

"After the usual chit-chat kindling we fired up the real conversation.

'I heard you know about a job.'

"She nodded, 'You know I pick up all kindsa stuff. Guys think they're impressing me, or some shit. Can't complain though. My stock portfolio is crazy good.'

"Fishing in her purse she produced a pamphlet. Passing it across she said, 'I think the guy who gave me this was thinking like save the stripper, or whatever.'

"I chuckled, 'The ol' respectable job angle.'

"She smirked, 'Like I'll be so grateful I'ma just have to suck his dick.'

"I said, 'Well, as a man, I can say we're raised with the grateful BJ delusion.'

"She rolled her eyes, 'Oh please, you believe it because you want it to be true. Ain't no different than Jesus saves.'

"Glancing over the pamphlet I said, 'Speaking of grateful oral...'

"She said, 'Don't be getting ideas. This is me paying you back. That bachelor party was gonna kill me. Besides.' She smirked, 'I think you'll be an adorable elf.'

"The next day I found myself in the beige office of a mall manager in Niles. After introducing myself we stared at each other in silence for well over a minute. I think he kept expecting to pull off my face, revealing Chari beneath a mask, and his pornographic fantasies of gratitude would come to life.

"Finally, playing off that note, I said, 'So about this job, Chari said I'd be a good fit.'

"He nodded, 'It's not hard. Tricky part is whether you like kids. You like kids?'

"A few years back I attended a family gathering. The three year old crotch fruit I'm supposed to call my nephew got to its feet. The whole family cheering it on my brother's rat child started baby-staggering towards me. Arms spread wide it giggled. Leaping off the couch I shouted, 'Not today Satan!' and punted it across the room. (I may've been drinking.)

"As such, I informed the manager, 'I know how to handle kids.'

'Okay. Let's get your costume.'

"I shuddered. Though aware of this aspect of the job I didn't look forward to it. I've often had vivid nightmares about a sweaty Walt Disney furiously masturbating to forlorn actors sadly donning the mouse costume.

"The manager said, 'Follow me.'

"He led the way through a network of halls behind the shops taking us to a locker room. While he searched for a box containing my costume I waved to a maintenance worker in overalls.

"The maintenance guy said, 'What they rope you into doin'?'

'Elf.'

"He grimaced, 'You let me know when you wanna die. I'll kill ya. Did it for the last guy. Least I can do, ya poor bastard.'

"Right away, I liked him.

"The manager returned carrying a battered cardboard box. Handing it over he said, 'Put this on then go to the middle of the mall. Santa's there. You can't miss it.'

"Opening the box I sighed heavily. Inside I found red tights, a green short sleeved shirt, and a red and white striped long sleeve shirt as well as a pointy green cap, and a set of fake points for my ears. Everything smelled like diseased feet, and the points felt like uncooked chicken. Yet, I soon found myself transformed into an elf.

"Walking the mall is like roaming the belly of a beached whale. The labored breathes of certain patrons even helps conjure a vivid image of the leviathan struggling to breath as its own weight crushes it out of existence. Meanwhile, despite everything in a state of slow decay, creeping towards death, delusions of survival abound like the leather store believing yalmukes will save the dying retailer, or the lingerie shop's unsettling new line of preteen thongs. Like dynamiting a beached whale it would be merciful to burn this place down.

"I spotted the ersatz Santa village long before I reached it. It appeared to be constructed on a budget of zero fucks, and discarded pizza boxes. Buildings, particularly Santa's workshop, stood so crooked they must've been constructed by a German expressionist. In front of it all sat Santa, enthroned on a thrift store recliner spray painted gold.

"Next to him stood a perky albino asparagus who introduced himself as, 'Todd.'

"Santa introduced himself as Santa.

"I said, 'I see we're going method.'

Todd beamed, 'If it makes the kiddies happy that's cool.' If he smiled any wider his head would've come out his mouth.

Slapping a nicotine patch on Santa said, 'Lez do dis.'

"And so it began... a job that made me want to smoke heroin out of a shotgun, get a nice double barrel overdose going.

"Later, unprompted, Santa said, 'Been doin' this job fer-fuckin'-ever. Started when my bitch wife took off with the kids, and I was missing children, which is something never thought I'd say. So I was like, "Mall Santa!"'

'Why'd she leave?' I asked.

"He shrugged, 'I's fucking our neighbor, and that asshole got it in his head I wanted him to kill her. So there was this whole misunderstanding. Oh, hold up.'

"Todd lifted an approaching child into Santa's lap. The kid stared in wide eyed wonder.

"'Hello little boy!' Santa said, 'What do you want for Christmas?'

'I wanna thister.'

'Then send us your mom,' I said.

"Santa choked down a laugh. He told the kid he'd see what he could do, but if there was anything else, say a toy of some kind... but the boy insisted on a sister.

"Todd snapped the kid's photo with a digital camera. Then I helped the boy down. Delivering him back to his parents I asked if they wanted to buy the photo. Like most they declined having already snapped pics with smart phones like the cheap bastards they are. The same way they used Santa as a scapegoat, blaming him when they couldn't afford gifts for their kids.

"So it went, eight hours a day for the next twelve days.

"Occasionally packs of mallrats tried to storm Santa's village. This usually involved Goth kids screaming about Krampus. We kept giant fake candy canes at the ready, and though bludgeoning teenagers is always a perk, it made the job feel worse afterward. Those battles sent me to such dizzying heights the drop back to reality felt like orbital skydiving -- too much time to fully consider the fall.

"Todd, on the other hand, possessed a mystifying ability to always smile. After one fight he said, 'That young fella had some skills. Good for him.'

I said, 'Maybe next time he'll kill you.'

'Then he'll be a winner!' Todd said. Watching him bandage himself with wrapping paper and gauze, I considered stealing a pinch; suspecting I could get a cheery high sucking on Todd's bloody gauze.

"But most days belonged to managing the slow procession of beaming children accompanied by bored adults lobotomized by parenthood.

"In the locker room one night a gruff voice asked, 'You wanna die?'

"Startled I leapt forward bouncing hard off my locker. Spinning around I found the maintenance guy standing directly behind me.

"I said, 'Not yet. Things are okay... I guess.'

"He nodded, 'When you're ready, say the word. You won't even know I'm coming. Just.' He snapped his fingers, 'Lights outs.'

'I don't doubt it,' I replied, 'Hey, I'm just here until I've got enough to buy a gun. Then I can rob a bank like someone who still has their dignity.'

'Like Todd,' he said.

"Todd having dignity proved hard for me to swallow. For instance, his frog eyed crotch stared down kids all day, and despite even the most direct statements he never did a thing about his huge man-el toe. Yet, it does take a stalwart individual to be so... Todd. Like physics, and voluntary celibacy, optimists have never made sense to me. Despite whatever obvious negativity I sent his way Todd remained a prince of the bright side. Some days my only motivation for work orbited some contrived scheme to break Todd's smile, yet I slowly began enjoying his immutable nature -- the seemingly eternal persistence of his mood.

"The maintenance guy's words echoing in mind, I started seeing Todd in a new light. Instead of a silver lining seeking lunatic I started seeing a young man impervious to the world's woes. Of course, I harbored doubts. Perhaps in private he metamorphosed into a snarling bitter dick, a speculation I held on to until one fateful day.

"Close to the end of work we let our guard down. We each wanted to go home for our own reasons. Santa had been peed on four times; it being payday meant I was anxious to get my drink on; and Todd wanted to hurry home to make a gingerbread house for his grandma. We didn't notice the circling, growing Krampus kult clad in black... until it was too late.

"A wiry teen jumped atop the phone case kiosk.

"Holding high an ornate, impractical dagger he bellowed, 'Death to the red lie!'

"And then the stygian tsunami came from all directions. Surrounded, we didn't stand a chance. Still, we fought the good fight. At one point I frantically threw children at the legion of incoming Goths, bowling them over. Santa put on a pair of reindeer antlers, and charged into the swarm head first. Anytime I saw a piercing I grabbed it, and pulled hard as I could.

"About to be overwhelmed I shouted, 'Robert Smith is dead.' As the swarm paused to check their phones I used that as our chance to flee.

"Grabbing Santa I said, 'We gotta go!'

'Ho-ho-hold up,' he stammered, 'Where's Todd?'

"I saw him lying face down. Shoving Santa to kick start his exodus, I hurried over. Scooping up Todd I fireman carried him back to the locker room where I dropped him unceremoniously on the ground.

"Gasping, I declared for the millionth time in my life, 'I gotta quit smoking.'

"Then I noticed a pool of blood spreading from Todd. Rolling him over revealed a set of pentagram themed shuriken stuck in his back. It didn't look good. Also, it's entirely possible when I dropped him I may have inadvertently driven them deeper into Todd.

"Kneeling beside him I lied, 'You're going to be okay.'

"Todd said, 'As long as the kids are happy.'

"Then he died. Smiling. Later I watched the maintenance guy mop up his blood, erasing what was left of Todd, save for a vague stain on the locker room floor. The next day I arrived to find a doughy guy in the locker room struggling into the elf costume. It'd been washed, but there were still holes in the back.

"Wrestling with the tights the guy said, 'This fuckin' shit better be worth it.'

"Seeing that sourness, I told the new guy, 'When you the manager come around, tell him I quit.'

"Chicago winter isn't the worst thing in the world... like Rudolph, Todd was born with a gift people didn't appreciate until they needed it. To see him replaced so easily, well, frankly your honor, that's why I burned down the mall."

#writing #fiction #shortstory #short story #surreal #weird #whyiquit #honestyisnotcontagious #elf #santa #holiday #christmas #giftmas #writer

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shamelessnerd · 6 years

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I just want to say the following headcanon thing LEGITIMATELY was inspired by this thing I saw on a random Google search I don’t even know how it was there, Google is watching me. I typed it all out in a caffeine-fueled frenzy. If you know who made this pic/headcanon thing, let me know so I can give credit. This is the offender:

OKAY SO I NEED TO ADD TO THIS THING ABOUT HOW JASON WAS DIANA'S FAVORITE ROBIN. I NEED TO ADD TO THIS, AND IT'S GONNA BE REALLY FAN-DORK-TASTIC AND IT'S FINE, EVERYTHING IS FINE.

We need to examine this more. Brace yourself for the headcanon feels train. Choo choo, bitches.

I don't think Jason just adored and was respectful to her, no no, he fucking worshiped her. When every Robin has met the others of the Trinity it's always said something about them. When Jason met Superman, he was appropriately awed and flustered, you know, as boys do. It's Superman for shits sake, he's like a myth. How do you talk to a mythical freakin' god?

But Diana? Now she's a bit different. Sure, she flies, she's fast, she's got super strength and sword skills no one can touch, but she doesn't shoot lasers from her eyes or sneeze and make a tornado. She talks to kids, she treats them with respect, as equals. Jason likes that. He grew up fast. He hates being talked down to.

But this really didn't start with Diana being his favorite just because she doesn't ruffle his hair and ask if his studies are going well. No, this goes back to long before he was a Robin. When he was just a little kid with an abusive father and a mother that loved him but couldn't fight back.

Jason has always been a tootin' masculine character. Look at him, he's got all the traits, up and down. Bad boy look, check. Guns, check. Fast cars, check. Street rat punk, check. He's the tallest out of the Robins, and so much goddamn muscle he's got fifteen pounds on Bruce. (Suck it, old man.) There's memes about his thighs ffs. But on the same token he's always related to and sympathizes more with women than any other Robin. Why would that be?

Because his mother loved him. Really, deeply, adoringly loved him, even if he was adopted. She probably always wanted kids and a family but she just chose the wrong man to do it with. Things probably weren't always so bad, they never are when you start out but it got worse steadily, it snuck up on her and by the time Jason was five, she was a convenient punching bag whenever Willis Todd had a bad day at work.

It didn't take long before every day was a bad day at work.

So Jason grew up in a place that started out as pretty nice, they were poor as hell but he never lacked for love from his mom. She made games for him so he wasn't afraid. Charity clothes weren't shameful, they were adventuring gear and he could be anything he wanted, even a wizard or a ninja. She didn't eat her portion of dinner because a spell had been put on her and the only way to break it is if he ate everything instead, and then defeat the dragon guarding her and give her a kiss before bedtime. Then she would eat. When they couldn't pay the utility bills, the candles were the only light they had and they were adventurers exploring ancient caves and had to be very careful to sneak around and find the magic stones she'd hidden everywhere.

Catherine Todd loved her little boy and always sacrificed whatever she could to make sure he wasn't afraid at night. While he slept, she'd cry very quietly.

But no amount of pretend and stories could really hide the fear in her eyes when his father came home. Jason had to hide under the table his arm the around a street mutt, Sparky, and a phone clutched to his chest while his mom tried to hold back her screams as the leather belt, then the fists and the boots came down on her again and again.

His mother ALWAYS took the beatings from him. When Jason was getting a little older and taller and starting to outgrow his clothes faster than they could steal or trade from the charity banks, he started looking like a target. But she never allowed his father to beat him, she wouldn't have it. She made a deal, she'd take the beatings and he wouldn't touch Jason dammit, not him, not her little boy.

Afterwards, when his scumbag father sat down in front of the TV with a beer and some food while his wife cried on the floor, Jason would crawl out of his hiding place and put band-aids on the cuts and bruises. Then she'd hold him in her arms, sobbing, and tell him it's okay, she loves him and she'd never let anything bad happen to him.

But things always got worse for Jason. He loathed his father, he felt furious he couldn't fight back but he knew if he did, his mother's sacrifice would be for nothing. He learned to control his rage early, he had to. But that doesn't mean it didn't burn.

The look of defeat and apathy in her eyes is what hurt him most. He wished she wouldn't just lay down and take it all the time. He wanted her to get up. Fight back. He'd have these dreams where his mom beat down her husband and told him if he ever touched her or her son again, she'd kill him. But he always woke up.

Catherine Todd was Jason's first real hero. Even when she started taking heroin to get through the day, to not feel hunger and not feel pain.

And then there's Wonder Woman. Princess of Themyscira. Amazon Warrior. She was the best fighter in the world and she fought with a grace like poetry and a savagery like vengeance. She was amazing. A woman that was strong enough to throw monsters through walls. Monsters just like his father. He wanted his mom to be more like Wonder Woman.

He wanted Wonder Woman to be his mom.

Now lets fast forward a bit. When his father abandoned them, Jason became the man of the house and his mother was so deep into addiction she could barely function. She'd lost so much weight over the years, pushing her food onto his plate. She'd always cared for and protected him, now he could finally return the favor. He was an 11-year old with a baseball bat and zero tolerance for any assholes that wanted to hurt his mom. She couldn't fight anymore but he could. Any drug dealer stopping by learned that the hard way.

But he couldn't protect her forever. The will had been beaten out of her for over a decade. While he was out stealing food, she overdosed. The pain had been too much. He failed her.

Fast forward again. He's Robin now, he's learned to survive on his own before now, he's not shy about sticking up for himself because dammit, he's not going to sit on the sidelines ever again. That was a helpless feeling he never could get away from. He meets Wonder Woman for the first time and he's just struck dumb. Alfred and Bruce are amused, because this Robin has never held back what's on his mind or given any ground. But after he gets over the awe of meeting his childhood idol (nevermind the fact that he's still technically a kid) he can't stop talking to Diana. He chatters eagerly to her.

Soon it's clear he's something of a fanboy. He asks how she threw this punch from this battle and how she disarmed that villain in that fight. She's more than happy to show him. Then he asks other things, like if she can be such a great fighter, other women can too, right? What if the best way to defeat crime is by preventing it? Like giving women and other common targets of criminals the ability to defend themselves. Couldn't women and children's shelters offer training and classes for free? She loves the idea and promises to see what she can do.

Jason probably writes letters to Diana whenever he can and she responds when she has time. It's not often because they're both so busy, but it's a slow sort of pen-pal thing they have going on. She's easier to talk to than Bruce and learns more about his family from before.

Even though he loved his mom, he also resented her. She let herself become a victim and he'll never quite forgive her for that. He's bitter about it, the idea of 'What if she'd fought back?' always in the back of his head. He'll never know and it's her fault and he misses her but he misses what they might have had. One day he accidentally lets this slip in one of his letters and Diana sends him two pages back, all of it laying out that a mother's love thinks nothing of sacrifice and it's okay for him to be angry but he shouldn't let it taint the good memories he has. He was loved right up until the end. Instead of being angry, be inspired. It wasn't fair, to her or to him, but he can still make his mother proud by making sure no one else has to go through what he did.

How would she know his mother is proud of him? Because Diana is proud of him. Very proud. And she knows what mothers want for their children.

Had she not been off-planet at the time, Diana would've noticed the lack of his letters when he started feeling displaced and needed family to connect to. When he found out he was adopted. When he left to go search for his real mother -- maybe a mother more like Wonder Woman.

When Jason died and Diana found out several weeks later, she was furious with Bruce. Absolutely. Livid. She refused to work with him or speak to him for a month. It was a major cramp in their relationship, as friends and as colleagues.

She did go home and cry in her mother's arms because he was such a fine boy, dammit. Man's World was cruel and savage and did the worst things to the most innocent people and it turned them into beasts. It broke their hearts and twisted their minds. But not Jason. He came out stronger and more determined than ever to be better. Yes, he was lost and hurt and didn't know where to direct his righteous anger but he was learning so fast and she was so proud of him for it. Crime wasn't a vague thing to him, he grew up in it, lived in it, and he knew exactly why it should be put down. Just like she knew the stakes of war and why it must be fought. He was a warrior. And he died because he was still a kid that wanted a mother who loved him.

She blames herself a little because if she'd been there more for him, given him the mom he really really wanted, he might still be alive. She neglected him, just like everyone else and she will never forgive herself for that.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, she'd only heard vague rumors from Gotham. It was years before she found out who it was and that's only because Dick was struggling with a guilty conscience for putting 'Jason' into Arkham Asylum. When this 'Red Hood' turned out to be the young Robin who had her action figure and always ran to say hello to her, she gave Dick a look that could kill a chimera. For the first time, he realized why Bruce could fear her so much.

She sat down and started to write a letter to Jason but didn't know where to start.

It hasn't happened yet. She's often run ragged with all her duties, and she hasn't figured out how to tell Bruce she wants to see Jason for reasons too many and complicated to put into words without seeming rude to the other fine boys he's mentored.

But when she does finally meet her favorite Robin she'll hug him and not let go for a long time. Then they'll spend the whole night talking about everything, and for tonight, crime and missions and duty can wait. She'll tell him about the countless women that have fended off their abusers because of the ideas he came up with so many years ago. And he'll be confused at first because doesn't she know he's insane? A killer? A psychopath? Well, she's killed too and she knows why he's doing what he's doing. There are as many battlefields as there are battles, in the mind, in the streets, in the long history of a life. She knows that this is his battle. She's proud of him for fighting what he believes in because that's what he's always done. His methods may not be her own but that's okay. Life has given him the tools and insight to do what he does and she must respect that. War is never pretty.

For a while, Jason is so damn unbalanced by all this, he can't really speak because there's a knot in his throat.

Then she drops another bomb on him by apologizing. For not being there for him, for not realizing that he needed more than a pen pal and for neglecting to tell him all these things before it was too late. There's tears in her eyes and he starts to panic a little.

The next day, she gets a letter from Jason.

So there. There you have it you ugly heathens, feels headcanon train! I think this is why Diana has Jason as her favorite Robin and why he has always looked up to her. I think the fandom somehow recognizes the neat and fitting parallels here. Maybe not ever put down in words like this (or if it has been, I haven't found it yet) but definitely there in the back of the brain. You don't see fanart with Jason wearing a Wonder Woman shirt, or pajamas, or coffee mug for no reason. It's not just because it's funny that the bad boy punk of the BatFamily is a huge Wonder Woman fan. It's because she means something to him that the other Robins never needed in their lives like he did. She was a role model early in his life and still is today.

Jason likes Wonder Woman because she's overcome and proven herself in a world stacked against her. Women can't fight? Wrong. Women can't be strong? So wrong. Women can't hold important positions in government? She's an ambassador. Women must be sexual, they must defer to their male compatriots, if they do fight they're butch and can't be feminine and beautiful, and if they don't fight they have to stand back and sit in the kitchen.... You might wanna shut up now.

Wonder Woman has defied every single unwritten rule the world tried to put on her and she's broken every single barrier that her 'superiors' have put in front of her. She gives society's expectations an amused little smirk before she breaks them in half. She doesn't let anyone define her. She does what is needed and she doesn't apologize for it. She's a rebel like that. She's powerful but feminine, she's a warrior but also motherly, she fights for peace, but she will fucking kill to protect her loved ones.

Diana's story and Jason's story are so much alike and that is why these two have this unspoken, undefined bond. They know the gritty realities, they know that ideals won’t stop hunger and abuse and exploitation, they know fire sometimes can only be fought with fire. I think the fandom understands that, even vaguely. They recognize she would naturally be his #1 role model. And it would genuinely put me on cloud 9 if DC recognized that too and decided, 'Know what? Let's go for it. Let's make this happen.'

'Let's make this impossible and bizarre idea seem wonderfully human.'

Isn't that what comics are really about?

#headcanon #feels train #Red Hood #Jason Todd #Wonder Woman #Diana of Themyscira #did not expect this to go all out #I would look up panels to support some of this but I chickened out

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saffordstories · 6 years

Note

UltimateShip Chris/Elliot

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

How long will they last? - Who knows. A hunter and a demon’s life are full of risks and dangers. For Chris ideally he’ll want it to last till the day one of both of them die.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Not quick at all.

How was their first kiss? - Their first kiss was more of a teaching/pride moment rather than anything romantic. Chris got the satisfaction of being first and teasing Elliot till the guy made a move. Elliot for a moment got to try something new and exciting.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Chris absolutely. Most likely in a moment where he thought Elliot was least expecting it and wanted to make him feel both desired and happy. He would also feel smug about the idea of a demon being married by a priest of god.

Who is the best man/men? - Nick and Ruddy perhaps if they’re present and want to?

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Kim by technical default.

Who did the most planning? - There’s little planning to be done, but Chris would make sure to handle most of the work seeing how it would be a small event.

Who stressed the most? - Both worry for different reasons, but Chris perhaps slightly more since the holy water and such in the church.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 (At a church, but just the three of them unless friends wished to come) | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Anyone that either they don’t like or tried to hurt/kill them. Hence the privacy of the event.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Both are very versatile, which Chris is all too happy to indulge in.

Who is the one to instigate things? - In the beginning it was Chris a lot, but as thing moved further along Elliot would start things up just as much as him.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 (Chris is unlikely to pass the chance to wind Elliot up regardless of where they are) | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 (the adrenalin after a hunt gets to Elliot and Chris is almost always down for a bit of fun) | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Chris has a lot more stamina now that he’s a demon. But with Elliot, depending on how slow or fast paced they’re going, usually lasts around five to ten minutes.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Chris has a little bit of an edging kink, but he’ll make sure Elliot at least gets off. He likes watching the faces Elliot makes far too much to leave him hanging.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - None. Neither have the ability to carry a child on their own.

How many children will they adopt? - Elliot ends up having one biologically, Kim. Who Chris, after much dragging his feet and groaning/hating, comes to think of his own and likes.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Elliot in the beginning. But once Chris sees how tire Elliot is helps when he can.

Who is the stricter parent? - Definitely Elliot. Chris is more likely to corral Kim into causing mischief or congratulate her on giving an asshole a bloody nose.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Mostly Elliot, but Chris too. Chris doesn’t mind her getting into a little trouble, but if he thinks she’ll hurt herself seriously doing something he’ll say no.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Chris. Being over a hundred years old he finally conquered cooking and started making Kim’s lunches once he saw what Elliot was packing her.

Who is the more loved parent? - Both are loved equally. Kim loves both her overprotective and trouble making dads.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Definitely Elliot. Chris attended once and was swiftly banned after insulting one of the moms in charge of the pta’s and almost getting slapped. May have been along the lines of brownies being store bought along with her personality, and her son’s science project ‘totally’ not have been done by her instead.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Elliot. Chris was filming and couldn’t risk a shaky video.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Both. Elliot knows the police in town better and Chris is more likely to have the ‘totally legal’ funds to get her out.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Chris. Once it’s found out that he can cook very well he takes delight in seeing how awed Elliot is by the food.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Chris, at least when it comes to his own cooking. If it’s take out neither are very picky.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Before Chris starts cooking it was Elliot, but afterwards Chris takes care of it at least half the time.

How often do they bake desserts? - Chris was and will always have a sweet tooth, and therefor there is always some sort of desert stored away in the home.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Meat lovers. Although Chris does make sure some veggies are present through the week.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Chris. It would be a chance for him to especially show off and he would take advantage of that. If Elliot did take the moment to surprise him though he would be more than happy to see what Elliot could create.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Either one really. Possibly Chris depending on where they are, since he’s traveled the states more and knows of places.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Neither really? Elliot does’t cook as much as Chris, but he did take care of himself for years and knows the basics at the very least.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Both are rather messy people, but Chris does help at the very least clean up his own mess once he invites himself to move in.

Who is really against chores? - Neither are really against them, although Chris is adamant about keeping the kitchen clean. So most of the time Elliot doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Elliot. Much to Chris’ dismay Chewie doesn’t like him one bit. (As do most dogs) So Elliot takes care of the pup.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Chris. Save for the kitchen, if he believes it’ll get him out of the chore faster and onto more fun things he’s more likely to do so.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Elliot. Chris was a social butterfly even before he became a demon and usually only worries about having enough food and drink for guests.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Chris. After which he promptly tucked it into his pocket. Finder keepers.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - If not rushed for time, Chris. The man loves the hot water. There is often the offer to join him if Elliot thinks he’s taking too long.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Elliot. Chris does miss being able to cuddle with and walk dogs that aren’t from hell itself though.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Not often really. Elliot’s work can get in the way of some celebrations. But Chris does make a point to at least decorate for Christmas with as many cheesy items he can find.

What are their goals for the relationship? - To survive and keep the other alive really. Neither really expected to care deeply for the other when they met so any happy moments they get together is a win in both their books.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Chris. Both due to the fact that the man still hates waking up despite the fact that he really doesn’t need sleep anymore. But there are a few mornings where Elliot isn’t allowed to leave bed and held captive for a good twenty minutes.

Who plays the most pranks? - Definitely Chris. One memorable one was when he kept subtly changing Elliot’s ringtone to ‘embarrassing’ songs for an entire weekend. Some of which included Friday by Rebecca Black, Never Gonna Give You Up, Barbie Girl, It’s Raining Men, I’m Sexy And I Know It, and such.

#chimeracarnival #chris #demon verse

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silence-burns · 7 years

Text

Surprise

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: For the contest, based on: “Imagine returning to Peter’s apartment after a date, only to find your dad, Tony, waiting for you.” by @thefandomimagine

Word count: 1,637

[Masterlist]

“Trust me, my aunt’s cake is almost as bad as that was,” Peter exclaimed mockingly, while the two of you exited the Chinese restaurant of Peter’s choice.

Both of you enjoyed fast food, whether it was Chinese, Mexican, or something else, so it wasn’t anything strange for you to just choose a random restaurant for your date. You decided to check on every one of them in the quarter Peter lived in, and it resulted in a variety of unusual experiences. You were certain you would never again step foot in the one you just left. The strange taste their food left on your tongue was enough of a warning. Who knows what they would bring you next time?

“But that was just a simple chicken! I wonder what they would do if we ordered something more complicated,” you shivered in terror at the mere thought of that disaster-to-be.

“I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t survive that. Or at least you,” he laughed at your expression.

You knew about Peter’s second life as a famous Spiderman even before you started dating. Your father was Tony Stark and he monitored a few “talented” young people in the area, one of which was Peter. When he joined the Avengers on the invitation of Iron Man, you got to spend more time with him, showing him what your dad prepared for him or inviting him to come over to the Avenger’s tower when he needed something. Of course, your dad didn’t know anything about your relationship – you shivered every time you imagined his reaction if he ever found out.

It’s not like you were hiding it from him, it was more like… there wasn’t a good enough occasion yet to tell him. With Vision around, it was a miracle Tony was still oblivious.

“Your place or mine?” he asked you after crossing the street.

“Yours,” you decided with a huff. “My dad has been seriously irritated lately, I don’t want him to start asking questions now.”

“You argued?” Peter frowned, but took your hand and moved down the street. The trees were rustling over your heads. You liked this street since it looked really beautiful when the sun shone through the leaves over your head.

“Not really, at least not yet. I just don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he didn’t tell me anything when I confronted him about it. And I can’t ask Vision since he’s away on some mission or whatever.”

“Maybe he’s just stressed over work?”

“Maybe. I’d just like him to calm down a little. Even if he doesn’t say anything, his mood is killing my days. It’s like a dark, gloomy cloud over his head,” you said with a smile, making Peter chuckle uncontrollably after imagining it. He respected your dad (and maybe fanboyed about his Iron Man side, but only a little bit) but it was too much for him. He would do anything to see that on the overly-confident, stone-faced billionaire.

“Don’t worry about him,” Peter told you, opening the door to his house with the keys. It looked like his aunt must have gone away once again, because she rarely locked the door when she knew Peter was coming back from school.

You went in, already missing her and the hugs she always tried to give Peter, of course while acting all “cool” and “buddy-ishly”, which made your boyfriend all red and flustered. She was a nice woman and you liked her. She had her own way of living and she often enjoyed little things, cheering like a kid. You had no doubt that Peter was her sweet, little boy (as she liked to describe him, not caring he was no longer in kindergarten) and she would do literally anything for him.

“Looks like we’re alone once again,” you said, slipping off your shoes. “That’s a shame. I wanted to see more of your childhood photos.”

Peter froze next to you with pure terror in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me she showed you them again yesterday…”

“Yup.”

He growled, hiding his face in his hands. You laughed at his adorable reaction.

“Which ones…?” Peter asked you in a muffled voice, sounding like he didn’t really want to know.

“From when you were learning to use the potty you called Ducky-Patty for some reason mostly, but also from your birthday parties,” you quickly added, seeing his expression changing. You were pretty sure he was planning on burning all of the photos or hiding them somewhere where no one – especially his aunt – would ever find them again. Which actually wouldn’t be that easy since she was hiding them in a “secret place” of hers and he still hadn’t found them yet.

“I’m not sure I can ever look myself in the eyes again,” he exclaimed in a hollow voice.

“There’s no reason to,” you said, stroking his still slightly reddened cheek. “You are just as beautiful as you were when you were three and chewing your shoes.”

“Can I somehow ban you from meeting my aunt? I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.”

“I’m pretty sure she is the one renting this flat,” you chuckled, grabbing your bag and moving past him to his room. “Now come on and show me the…”

You opened the door. Your dad was sitting on Peter’s bed.

Your dad, Tony Stark, was sitting on Peter’s bed, piercing you, and Peter’s hand on your shoulder.

“…project.”

You felt your boyfriend freezing next to you.

“Project? Really?”

Your father raised an eyebrow questioningly, crossing his arms.

Shock quickly morphed into anger, making you squint your eyes and raise your chin defiantly.

“Yes, project. We attend school if you forgot, dad. Besides, what are you doing here?”

“Maybe checking on my only child, who has already finished ‘school’ and was supposed to come home?” Tony sat straight on the bed, confronting you almost face to face in the narrow space of the small room.

“And how did you know where to find me, especially since visiting friends is neither a crime nor anything extraordinary for ‘children’?”

Peter’s hand on your shoulder gripped you harder, when he tried to bring you back to your reason, but it was too late and he couldn’t do much to help you. His quiet “Good afternoon” from behind your back was completely ignored too.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you are just ‘friends’,” Tony pulled a face, making quotation marks in the air and you felt something tightening inside of you.

“What we are is none of your business,” you argued.

“I’m curious, since when…”

“Since we both knew how you would react!”

Peter tried to object, but one look from Stark reminded him that indeed it was true. You and him had decided to wait for the right moment to tell your father, but it just didn’t come. Until now. And it was going exactly as you’d predicted it would, so far.

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on yourself and your stupid lab, you would know more things about my life,” you said angrily. Something changed in Tony’s face.

“I was focused on you and only you for the entire week! You think I didn’t notice? I knew-…”

“Wait, what?” Peter slipped, before realising how loud he was in the sudden silence. Tony gave him a hard, tired look from over your shoulder.

“I. Knew. And I waited for you to tell me on your own, but as we can all see, you didn’t once bother to tell me where you sneak out to so often, completely not caring about your own safety and my feelings. What if something happened to you?” The sudden change in your father’s voice surprised you. “I wouldn’t even know where to look for you.”

“Well, you’ve found us today,” you stated the obvious.

“Only because I finally gave up and decided to track you on my own! And thanks to your aunt. She’s a really nice woman. Talks a lot, but has a great sense of humor. Nice pics, by the way,” Tony nodded to Peter, reddening behind your back.

You found his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Tony noticed it but didn’t say anything.

“So what are you going to do now?” you asked, trying to hide the fear in your voice. You didn’t know if you succeeded but at least it didn’t crack.

“Demand information about where you are. And constant updates.”

You frowned, not sure what you’d just heard.

“You mean…”

“I mean every hour you’re outside the tower. Maybe two if I’m in a good mood. And now, excuse us…”

Before you could react in any way, he pulled Peter into the room, almost hitting you with the closed door.

“Breathe,” Tony snarled after locking the door, completely ignoring your muffle words.

“It’s not that easy,” Peter gasped weakly, completely petrified.

Tony sat back down on Peter’s bed, and cleared his throat.

“Until today I thought I liked surprises,” he muttered sceptically.

“Sir, I, we’re not-…!” Peter tried to defend you and himself but was quickly stopped by Tony’s gesture.

The man eyed him tiredly.

“One time,” he said quietly, aware that you were probably trying to overhear what was going on in the room. “If my child, my only child, let me remind you, ever comes back home crying because of you, or doesn’t come back when they were supposed to, I can assure you I will find you and I will make your life as bitter as your aunt’s cookies.”

“Of course, sir! I will never-…”

“Good,” Tony stood up, patting his arm a little too rough and with a forced smile. “And please, don’t make me do The Talk.”

“WHAT-…”

The moment he opened the door, you were immediately inside, demanding answers, but neither of the men were wiling to tell you anything, but for completely different reasons.

[Masterlist]

#spider-man #peter parker #spider-man x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spider-man x you #spider-manxyou #peter parkerxyou #spiderman imagine #spider-man imagine #peter parker imagine #spider-man one shot #peter parker oneshot

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