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said_scarlett) wrote2010-08-31 10:54 am
said_scarlett) wrote2010-08-31 10:54 am
Entry tags:
Fic: There's Something Wrong With the Rogers Kid
Well, I guess my muse is somewhat working again? I've been finding it insanely difficult to write anything of late - lack of time, energy, passion, brain power - but I've been trying to dig myself out of it. I browsed a few anon prompts, outlined some HBC femslash, and then sat down to write.
And ended up delving into a (possibly) new fandom, completely out of the blue and randomly. I'm chalking it up to getting super pumped for new VB soon. And blaming Patrick Warburton for totally recycling a VB line in last night's episode.
Um, anyway.... I've got no other explanation for this.
Title: There's Something Wrong With the Rogers Kid
Fandom: Mystery, Incorporated
Rating: PG-13 for mild language, reference to adult themes, minor drug use
Word Count: 1,723
Genre: Character piece, angst
Spoilers: Up to 'The Grasp of the Gnome'
Summary: He knows he's not that smart, and he knows he doesn't understand a lot of things, but he can't help but wonder why she wants to be with him when she doesn't seem to like anything about him....
It was really cold in the woods at night. Which made sense, considering it was late fall. And it was dark. And the wind shook the trees in random bursts, sending skeletal hands to grasp and stretch across the sliver of a moon.
Shaggy Rogers shivered, and not entirely from the cold. He didn't like the idea of being out here in the woods, alone, in the dark. Scooby was asleep - like any normal person at two o'clock in the morning. And it was a school night. Morning. Whatever. The bottom line was, this was probably the last place that Shaggy wanted to be.
But some compulsions and some needs were stronger than the fear of the dark woods that stretched out beyond his house. Besides, he needed to think.
Sheepishly and cautiously, as though afraid he was being watched or followed, Shaggy leaned around the tree he rested against and watched every direction carefully. In truth, he was afraid of being watched or followed. The whole reason he was in the woods at two in the morning was because - in his more acutely paranoid stages - he had begun wondering if there were cameras in his bedroom. Or at least a camera. Or maybe just a tape recorder. But there could be something.
"Man oh man," Shaggy muttered, after assuring himself that the coast was clear. "Like, a guy shouldn't have to worry if his girlfriend's turning into Big Brother."
But the worry - which sometimes grew to a soul-consuming fear that the lanky teen couldn't properly articulate - was there all the same. It had been good, in the beginning. Making out in closets and under the bleachers and in the girls' bathroom after hours…. Man, a lot of making out. And he could just be himself then. He liked being himself. He happened to think he was a pretty awesome guy, all things told. Maybe he wasn't the smartest guy out there, or the best looking, or the most ambitious, but so what? There were plenty of smart, good looking, ambitious guys out there. What did the world need with another one? He'd rather by happy than ambitious any day.
"Man oh man," he muttered again. Now he opened his beat up messenger bag, still peering intently into the shadows through his heavy fall of hair. Still safe. His fingers dipped inside and snaked out the soft white cylinder tucked into a bag of wasabi flavored gummies. Just another of the millions of things he wasn't supposed to do anymore. But that didn't stop him from slipping the joint between his lips and lighting it in a motion that was oddly smooth and practiced for someone known for tripping over his own feet.
Just the feel of the soft paper against his lips was enough to calm his whirling mind. He felt his head swim with the first inhalation and winced.
Things were getting ridiculous. He was sneaking off into the woods to smoke a joint because he was afraid that his crazy girlfriend had bugged his room. Shaggy was pretty sure that wasn't how normal relationships went.
"What's her problem, anyway? Like, she's the one who wanted to go out with me!" So why didn't she seem to actually like him?
"Wear this, don't wear that, you can't eat that, don't talk like that, stop smoking, don't go someplace fun, go someplace boring with me!" Shaggy let his head fall back against the tree. Why was she always trying to change him? He didn't want to change.
And now Scooby was jealous. Oh, things were better now, but every time the three of them were together, there was tension. He always felt like he was in the middle of two magnets that were honed in on him. They pushed against each other, but they both tried to stick him to themselves permanently.
"LIke, how the hell did I get to be Mr. Popular all of a sudden?"
These were the kinds of problems Fred was supposed to have to deal with. What with Fred being one of those good looking, smart, ambitious people that had been touched on briefly before. Shaggy was just a seventeen year old stoner who scraped by his classes and who's greatest goal was the Ultimate Pizza. That thought, at least, brought a smile to his bristly face. The Ultimate Pizza would be amazing. The pizza of the gods. That pizza that was there at the start of the universe. In his mind, the mythical edible sometimes took the form of Atlas, or that turtle from those books Velma loved. A holy, ancient thing that held up the world. Someday, he was going to make it. Or find it. Or whatever it was that needed to be done.
And then his face fell. He realized, with a sudden odd clarity, that these were the moments he loved the most. The quiet moments, the boring moments when there was nothing to do but smoke and eat and think strange, slow thoughts. And these were the moments he could never share with Velma. He couldn't begin to explain the Ultimate Pizza to her, or Chickenstien, or any of the other dozens of things that filled his mind. She'd just scoff and roll her eyes and walk away.
And what about all the stuff that was important to her? Computers and books and history and smart people stuff. Shaggy didn't care much about any of that, but he at least tried to listen when Velma started going off about it. Did she try to listen to the things that were important to him? Did she even realize how important some of those things were?
Probably not. Her brain just worked differently. A lot differently. Sometimes it was like they were from two different planets. He was from Planet Munchies, she was from Planet…Crazypants.
The joint was gone. Shaggy popped back a handful of wasabi gummies and rooted around for the thin, hardcover copy of 'Treasure Island' he carried with him at all times. Hollowed out inside, it had enough to get him through the morning.
Somehow, somewhere, things had gotten really messed up. Messed up on the inside, where it was harder to figure out what was wrong and harder still to solve. This wasn't a problem he could run away from, or trick, or just beat over the head until it fell down. And no one else was going to be able to help him out, pull him back before it was too late. There wasn't any last minute rescue when it came to matters of the heart and/or head.
Probably just the fact that Shaggy was comparing his girlfriend to some sort of monster said everything that needed to be said.
He was sitting now, in the crook of roots and tangle of vines. He wasn't afraid of the woods anymore. Even if there were monsters out there, at least he knew how to deal with monsters. It was his girlfriend he was scared to face. And he supposed, in a way, his best friend as well. But with Scoob it was easier. Scoob didn't try to change him or make him into something he wasn't. Scoob didn't care what he wore, what he ate, how much he smoked. And they had their fights, sure, but they always made up.
Of course, Scoob also didn't make out with him or sometimes let him cop a lengthy feel. But Shaggy didn't know if those things were worth everything else. And he never seemed to know where he stood with Velma. There were so many times when he thought they were fine, but she was mad. Or times he was sure she was mad and she swore she wasn't and he didn't know if it was true or not.
But he didn't want to hurt her. And he didn't want to cause some problem that would drag Fred and Daphne into it. He knew how that would go. Daphne would take Velma's side 'cause they were girls, and Fred would just plead the fifth and go build some traps, and then where would poor Shaggy be?
Free to do whatever he wants, that's where, a small, bitter voice spoke up. But that voice was easily ignored, nothing more than an attempt to deal with the confusing and conflicting emotions that had recently made themselves known in Shaggy's head. And he really didn't want to hurt her. He did like her. He'd said yes for a reason, after all. Velma'd always been cool. A little preachy with the brainy stuff, but that was just her. Now she wasn't cool at all.
Why couldn't things have stayed the same? Why did it make such a difference that they were dating?
It was nothing but the same things, going around and around in his mind in lazy and unhelpful circles. And by the time the sun started to come out, Shaggy was feeling calmer but no closer to any sort of solution. And he couldn't stay calm, because now he had to make sure he erased any evidence of what he'd been doing. Velma would be by in an hour or so, to meet before school. And probably harp on him about something.
"And like, so it is the cross I bear," he muttered, turning back to head home. He had eyedrops, breath freshener and cologne in his bathroom. And at least Velma liked the cologne. She liked his eyes, too. And his hands. And one time she had said something about his 'unique world view' being 'moderately charming'. He was pretty sure that was a good thing.
Maybe he was worrying about this too much. Maybe he just needed to flat out tell Velma that if she wanted to be with him, she was just gonna have to be with him. Take him or leave him, what you saw was what you got. And if she couldn't just accept him the way he was, well then, maybe they shouldn't be dating.
Of course, Shaggy knew in his heart of hearts that he'd rather face next week's monster alone and unarmed than ever give Velma an ultimatum. By the time she showed up to walk with him to school, he'd already decided to just forget about it.
And ended up delving into a (possibly) new fandom, completely out of the blue and randomly. I'm chalking it up to getting super pumped for new VB soon. And blaming Patrick Warburton for totally recycling a VB line in last night's episode.
Um, anyway.... I've got no other explanation for this.
Title: There's Something Wrong With the Rogers Kid
Fandom: Mystery, Incorporated
Rating: PG-13 for mild language, reference to adult themes, minor drug use
Word Count: 1,723
Genre: Character piece, angst
Spoilers: Up to 'The Grasp of the Gnome'
Summary: He knows he's not that smart, and he knows he doesn't understand a lot of things, but he can't help but wonder why she wants to be with him when she doesn't seem to like anything about him....
It was really cold in the woods at night. Which made sense, considering it was late fall. And it was dark. And the wind shook the trees in random bursts, sending skeletal hands to grasp and stretch across the sliver of a moon.
Shaggy Rogers shivered, and not entirely from the cold. He didn't like the idea of being out here in the woods, alone, in the dark. Scooby was asleep - like any normal person at two o'clock in the morning. And it was a school night. Morning. Whatever. The bottom line was, this was probably the last place that Shaggy wanted to be.
But some compulsions and some needs were stronger than the fear of the dark woods that stretched out beyond his house. Besides, he needed to think.
Sheepishly and cautiously, as though afraid he was being watched or followed, Shaggy leaned around the tree he rested against and watched every direction carefully. In truth, he was afraid of being watched or followed. The whole reason he was in the woods at two in the morning was because - in his more acutely paranoid stages - he had begun wondering if there were cameras in his bedroom. Or at least a camera. Or maybe just a tape recorder. But there could be something.
"Man oh man," Shaggy muttered, after assuring himself that the coast was clear. "Like, a guy shouldn't have to worry if his girlfriend's turning into Big Brother."
But the worry - which sometimes grew to a soul-consuming fear that the lanky teen couldn't properly articulate - was there all the same. It had been good, in the beginning. Making out in closets and under the bleachers and in the girls' bathroom after hours…. Man, a lot of making out. And he could just be himself then. He liked being himself. He happened to think he was a pretty awesome guy, all things told. Maybe he wasn't the smartest guy out there, or the best looking, or the most ambitious, but so what? There were plenty of smart, good looking, ambitious guys out there. What did the world need with another one? He'd rather by happy than ambitious any day.
"Man oh man," he muttered again. Now he opened his beat up messenger bag, still peering intently into the shadows through his heavy fall of hair. Still safe. His fingers dipped inside and snaked out the soft white cylinder tucked into a bag of wasabi flavored gummies. Just another of the millions of things he wasn't supposed to do anymore. But that didn't stop him from slipping the joint between his lips and lighting it in a motion that was oddly smooth and practiced for someone known for tripping over his own feet.
Just the feel of the soft paper against his lips was enough to calm his whirling mind. He felt his head swim with the first inhalation and winced.
Things were getting ridiculous. He was sneaking off into the woods to smoke a joint because he was afraid that his crazy girlfriend had bugged his room. Shaggy was pretty sure that wasn't how normal relationships went.
"What's her problem, anyway? Like, she's the one who wanted to go out with me!" So why didn't she seem to actually like him?
"Wear this, don't wear that, you can't eat that, don't talk like that, stop smoking, don't go someplace fun, go someplace boring with me!" Shaggy let his head fall back against the tree. Why was she always trying to change him? He didn't want to change.
And now Scooby was jealous. Oh, things were better now, but every time the three of them were together, there was tension. He always felt like he was in the middle of two magnets that were honed in on him. They pushed against each other, but they both tried to stick him to themselves permanently.
"LIke, how the hell did I get to be Mr. Popular all of a sudden?"
These were the kinds of problems Fred was supposed to have to deal with. What with Fred being one of those good looking, smart, ambitious people that had been touched on briefly before. Shaggy was just a seventeen year old stoner who scraped by his classes and who's greatest goal was the Ultimate Pizza. That thought, at least, brought a smile to his bristly face. The Ultimate Pizza would be amazing. The pizza of the gods. That pizza that was there at the start of the universe. In his mind, the mythical edible sometimes took the form of Atlas, or that turtle from those books Velma loved. A holy, ancient thing that held up the world. Someday, he was going to make it. Or find it. Or whatever it was that needed to be done.
And then his face fell. He realized, with a sudden odd clarity, that these were the moments he loved the most. The quiet moments, the boring moments when there was nothing to do but smoke and eat and think strange, slow thoughts. And these were the moments he could never share with Velma. He couldn't begin to explain the Ultimate Pizza to her, or Chickenstien, or any of the other dozens of things that filled his mind. She'd just scoff and roll her eyes and walk away.
And what about all the stuff that was important to her? Computers and books and history and smart people stuff. Shaggy didn't care much about any of that, but he at least tried to listen when Velma started going off about it. Did she try to listen to the things that were important to him? Did she even realize how important some of those things were?
Probably not. Her brain just worked differently. A lot differently. Sometimes it was like they were from two different planets. He was from Planet Munchies, she was from Planet…Crazypants.
The joint was gone. Shaggy popped back a handful of wasabi gummies and rooted around for the thin, hardcover copy of 'Treasure Island' he carried with him at all times. Hollowed out inside, it had enough to get him through the morning.
Somehow, somewhere, things had gotten really messed up. Messed up on the inside, where it was harder to figure out what was wrong and harder still to solve. This wasn't a problem he could run away from, or trick, or just beat over the head until it fell down. And no one else was going to be able to help him out, pull him back before it was too late. There wasn't any last minute rescue when it came to matters of the heart and/or head.
Probably just the fact that Shaggy was comparing his girlfriend to some sort of monster said everything that needed to be said.
He was sitting now, in the crook of roots and tangle of vines. He wasn't afraid of the woods anymore. Even if there were monsters out there, at least he knew how to deal with monsters. It was his girlfriend he was scared to face. And he supposed, in a way, his best friend as well. But with Scoob it was easier. Scoob didn't try to change him or make him into something he wasn't. Scoob didn't care what he wore, what he ate, how much he smoked. And they had their fights, sure, but they always made up.
Of course, Scoob also didn't make out with him or sometimes let him cop a lengthy feel. But Shaggy didn't know if those things were worth everything else. And he never seemed to know where he stood with Velma. There were so many times when he thought they were fine, but she was mad. Or times he was sure she was mad and she swore she wasn't and he didn't know if it was true or not.
But he didn't want to hurt her. And he didn't want to cause some problem that would drag Fred and Daphne into it. He knew how that would go. Daphne would take Velma's side 'cause they were girls, and Fred would just plead the fifth and go build some traps, and then where would poor Shaggy be?
Free to do whatever he wants, that's where, a small, bitter voice spoke up. But that voice was easily ignored, nothing more than an attempt to deal with the confusing and conflicting emotions that had recently made themselves known in Shaggy's head. And he really didn't want to hurt her. He did like her. He'd said yes for a reason, after all. Velma'd always been cool. A little preachy with the brainy stuff, but that was just her. Now she wasn't cool at all.
Why couldn't things have stayed the same? Why did it make such a difference that they were dating?
It was nothing but the same things, going around and around in his mind in lazy and unhelpful circles. And by the time the sun started to come out, Shaggy was feeling calmer but no closer to any sort of solution. And he couldn't stay calm, because now he had to make sure he erased any evidence of what he'd been doing. Velma would be by in an hour or so, to meet before school. And probably harp on him about something.
"And like, so it is the cross I bear," he muttered, turning back to head home. He had eyedrops, breath freshener and cologne in his bathroom. And at least Velma liked the cologne. She liked his eyes, too. And his hands. And one time she had said something about his 'unique world view' being 'moderately charming'. He was pretty sure that was a good thing.
Maybe he was worrying about this too much. Maybe he just needed to flat out tell Velma that if she wanted to be with him, she was just gonna have to be with him. Take him or leave him, what you saw was what you got. And if she couldn't just accept him the way he was, well then, maybe they shouldn't be dating.
Of course, Shaggy knew in his heart of hearts that he'd rather face next week's monster alone and unarmed than ever give Velma an ultimatum. By the time she showed up to walk with him to school, he'd already decided to just forget about it.
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