#I wish I had more pointless videos
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
tea-time-terrier · 1 year ago
Text
I found this in my drafts. They were really great at two dog games <3
52 notes · View notes
spectersgf · 5 months ago
Text
— driver's seat storm chasing 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃
Tumblr media
pairing: tyler owens × reader 
summary: he was about to take off again, chase another storm, leave you worrying for hours upon hours. the least he could do was give you a parting gift.
warnings: SMUT! kinda angsty a little, cute yeehaw banter, cowgirlisms, hair pull, ass smack, titty suck. all the good stuff.
wordcount: 3.2k
a/n: watched twisters literally two days ago, had this thought, here we are. not proofread at all (as always, soz) but filled with passion (and horny)
(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)
Tumblr media
"oh, you're such a prick, tyler owens!"
you were shouting at your best friend, which was a regular occurrence due to his dangerous passion. tyler was a professional 'tornado wrangler' which was his idiotic way of saying he chased tornadoes for the sake of content creation. you knew it went much deeper than that for him; this was his passion and he was smart and knew so much about storms, but that doesn't mean he wasn't stupid and reckless.
he had just come back from a particularly dangerous storm, one that left you more worried for his safety than ever before. you cried seeing him come back to town and fretted over his injuries and bruises, begging him to stop and not go again.
according to what he just told you, your begging was pointless.
he was about to take off again, chase another storm, put himself back in harm's way. leave you worrying for hours upon hours, shaking until he'd return.
"do i mean nothing to you? does my begging and pleading mean nothing?" your voice was strained but you didn't lower your volume, desperate for him to see your anguish.
"you know that's not the case, darlin', but storm chasing is my life. you know that better than anyone." his tone was much steadier than yours, and his comments were entirely reasonable. you knew how much of his time he dedicated to his passion, but that didn't stop your frustration.
"don't play that fucking card with me, ty. it's not even been 48 hours since i thought you'd died, and now you're up and leaving again!" your anger had subsided and your tone had softened, now showing vulnerability and hurt. your shoulders sagged and you turned away from him, tears that you didn't want him to see stinging your eyes.
"y/n..." his voice trailed off, unsure if he was supposed to move to comfort you or give you space.
“you don’t understand what it does to me to see you walk out that door, ty. every single time i’m stuck asking myself if today’s the day i lose my best friend. and i know you’re careful and you know your stuff and you’re basically a pro but sometimes i can’t even bring myself to watch the streams and the videos because i’m so scared.” you rambled your confession, back still turned away from him but you’d started pacing. when you finished speaking, you turned to face him, eyes pleading. “i’m not asking you to stop. i’d never ask you to quit your passion. i just wish you’d understand from my perspective.”
"i'm sorry," he started, but you knew where his apology was headed. "but i have to do this. this is my life, and i'm helping people by doing this."
your tear-filled gaze met his as he spoke, and the look of sincerity on his face made you cave, as usual. "fine, go. it's not like i could've stopped you."
you watched him pick up his hat and place it easily on his head as he turned to walk away. he opened the door but turned before heading out. "you know i love you, y/n," he said quietly, sounding almost defeated.
his words struck you but before you could say anything, he was out the door. for a couple of minutes you stood in place, stunned at his proclamation. when you finally snapped out of your shock, you walked out the door, following behind him as he walked to his truck.
it had started to rain and the water caused his shirt to stick to him like a second skin, but you didn't allow yourself any time to ogle his physique. you reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling his cold skin against your warm touch. you pulled his arm, forcing him to turn and face you as you seethed.
"love me how?" you asked, obviously distressed. the rain was making your hair to stick to your face but you didn't care; all you cared about was the man in front of you. your best friend. "love me how, tyler?"
"y/n..." for the second time today his voice trailed off after saying your name like that and it infuriated you. your face burned from embarrassment and before you had fully processed your reaction, you slapped him.
when he turned his head back to look at you again, his eyes were swimming with hurt. you loved his eyes. you hated seeing them like this. but all you could focus on was your own hurt. after years of being his best friend but craving more, and years of casual touches and flirting and cuddling and rumours in your small town, this is what it had come to. a halfway confession.
"fuck you," you spit before turning away to walk back inside.
this time, it was tyler who reached out to grab you. his big hand encased your bicep and forced you to face him again. before you could say anything, he spun you around so that you were pinned against the door of his truck.
"what the fuck is your probl–" your words were abruptly cut off when he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. you stood still in shock for a few seconds before melting into him, one hand on the junction between his neck and shoulder, the other hand on his bicep. meanwhile, he had one hand on your waist and the other held your face, fingers splaying across your cheek and neck. you kissed him back with passion and vigour, easily letting his tongue explore your mouth for the first time.
your hands snakes upwards, pulling his hat off his head and slipping it onto yours while your free hand fisted his hair, threading your fingers through his locks. his hand trailed from your waist to your ass as he pulled away from your kiss for a second.
"you sure you wanna wear my hat, darlin'?" he panted, raising one cocky eyebrow as his eyes searched yours.
"wear the hat, ride the cowboy, right?" you asked, smirking confidently. he immediately matched your facial expression, smirking in return, but his eyes twinkled with joy and amusement.
tyler was much taller than you and evidently he was starting to see your height difference as an issue, since he brought his other hand down to your ass and lifted you, urging your legs around his waist and bringing you face to face. he kissed you again, just a quick kiss, before asking, "so, cowgirl. where are we doing this?"
"if i'm the cowgirl, are you my wild stallion?" you teased playfully, smiling as you looked at him affectionately. after seeing the fiery look in his eyes, you were unable to resist, and you pulled his mouth to yours once again, this kiss more intense than the last. you messily pulled his bottom lip into your mouth and sucked on it, followed by a gentle bite, before pulling away and desperately kissing down his neck. "i want you in your truck. driver's seat," you murmured against his skin.
before tyler was able to haul you into his truck, you detached yourself from him. once your feet were safely back on the ground, you eagerly grabbed the hem of his soaked t-shirt and peeled it off his tanned torso, shamelessly admiring his body as you did. you dragged your nails across his toned abdomen and brought your mouth to his chest, sucking and biting at his skin. you could barely register his groan, only able to focus on his body and being able to maintain skin-to-skin contact with him.
tyler pulled you away from him by gently tugging on your hair and you looked at him quizzically. "ty, what the hell?"
"enough teasing, cowgirl. time to ride the stallion," he told you, causing you both to erupt in a fit of giggles.
"never say that again, tyler," you replied, leaning up to peck him quickly.
he picked you up briefly and immediately put you down in a spot away from the driver's side door and swiftly got comfortable in his van, away from the cold rain. while he did so, you made quick work of unbuttoning your flannel shirt, leaving you in just a lacy, sheer bra and jeans. and his hat. once he was seated, tyler gave you a thorough once-over, letting out a low whistle as he did.
"somebody call for a ride?" his playful tone was supplemented by his signature cheeky smile, but you rolled your eyes at his comment.
"god, you're so fuckin' corny."
you boosted yourself into the truck, situating yourself easily on his lap. you shuffled around to get comfortable on tyler's lap and were rewarded with a strained groan. this time it was you giving him a cheeky smile followed by a quick roll of your hips over his. he placed his hands firmly on your waist, fingers dipping into your jeans and stopping your movements.
"keep that up and this'll be over before it started, sweetheart," he told you, voice strained and you could tell it was from arousal. you watched his mouth as he spoke and, unable to resist him, you leaned in and kissed him again. your almost bare chest was pressed against his and your hands roamed his skin, picking up water droplets as they went. the feel of his toned muscle under your hands caused you to moan into his mouth, turning tyler on even more.
his hands wound into your hair, all the way up to the root, and he tugged lightly. you whimpered and dragged your hips over his, and when tyler pulled away from your kiss you unconsciously followed his movement. tyler clicked his tongue in condescending disapproval but smirked at your reaction to him.
“needy for me, baby?” he asked mockingly, one hand on your hips to halt your movement again, the other still tangled in your hair.. you nodded your response, not trusting yourself to speak in your current state. “words, sweetheart. what do you need?”
you whined but when you realised he wasn’t going to do anything until you spelled it out for him, you let out an exasperated huff. “need you to fuck me.”
tyler laughed affectionately at your desperation. “there you go, sweetheart. that’s what i like to hear.” you preened from his praise, craving to receive it again. with the hand that was on your hips, he undid the button of your jeans and pulled the zipper down with a quiet hiss. instead of pulling down the restrictive fabric like you expected, he slipped his hand into your barely-existent underwear and stroked with a featherlike touch. 
“this all for me?” he asked as he dragged a finger through your arousal; you were soaked and his teasing tone was only making it worse. you dropped your head onto his shoulder and tried to slyly jerk your hips forward, though you were unable to. “patience, baby. i’ve chased this storm so long, now let me enjoy it.”
his words jolted you caused a moan to fall from your mouth. your skin was feverish despite the biting cold and you were becoming increasingly desperate. “next time, please, tyler. i need you inside me, please,” you begged, mouth against his tan skin. 
he didn’t say anything in response, only chuckled quietly to himself as he removed his hand from your underwear. he brought his hand up to your mouth and you looked him in the eye as you took one finger, the one that had been touching you, into your mouth and sucked. you bobbed your head back and forth for just a few seconds and hummed quietly around the digit in your mouth before releasing it and pulling tyler’s mouth to yours in a heated kiss, urging him to taste you from your own mouth. 
“god, if we weren’t in my truck right now i’d have my mouth on your sweet cunt,” he grumbled.
“don’t care, need your cock inside me.” without breaking your kiss, you pushed your jeans down over your hips but only to your knees. “i’m ready, you know i’m ready, what are we waiting for?” you asked frantically. you started to paw at his stupid belt but his hands covered yours, stopping you from getting to what you were craving.
“are you sure? we can’t go back after this and you know it.” his eyes were swimming with concern as he spoke, searching yours for any indication of your feelings. 
you moved one hand to his face, placing it on his cheek and stroking his cheekbone delicately with your thumb. “i want this. i have for a longass time. i’ve felt it for so long, and now i’m finally chasing it. are you chasing it with me?” your words were entirely sincere and this was obvious to tyler, especially when you looked in his eyes and deep into his soul.
“using my own words against me?” he teased, breaking the tension in a charming way that only he could pull off. “i’m with you.” his words were equally sincere, though you could sense the double meaning. you weren’t distressed by it; his way of telling you how he was feeling made your heart swell and added to your already dripping arousal.
you resumed your work on removing his belt, followed by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper. tyler could only watch cockily as you did so, both hands behind his head, muscles flexing, as he admired your naked beauty. jeans pulled down, only a sheer bra covering your breasts, and his hat on your head.
“go on, baby. take me out; it’s all yours.”
his words empowered you and you happily obliged, appreciating his quiet hiss as you made contact with his skin once again. you tunnel visioned on his thick cock in your hand, swiping your thumb over the tip and pumping it once, twice, three times. tyler watched your every moment and facial expression, and he could see you practically salivating, bringing a wide and cocky smirk to his face. “another time,” he murmured despite his better opinion of letting you take him in your mouth the way you so obviously craved. you simply nodded in agreement, seemingly in a trance as you eyed the way your smaller hand wrapped around his girth. 
the feeling of his hands on your hips gently urging you forwards and upwards snapped you out of your dreamlike state but you didn’t resist his manhandling; instead, you welcomed the way he took control of the situation. took control of you. 
before proceeding further he looked you in the eyes again, showing that same sincerity and vulnerability, silently asking ‘are you sure you’re sure?’. you smiled at the gesture, appreciative of his concern, and nodded. your eyes sparkled with excitement as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and reached behind you to guide tyler’s hard cock into your wetness. the pair of you moaned in tandem as you sunk down on him, fitting together perfectly. 
“c’mere, cowgirl,” he murmured, voice heavy with arousal. you shifted forward with him inside you, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he pulled you in for another kiss. the combination of his searing kiss and the way he filled you up was electrifying. your entire body moved on its own accord, as if you had come alive for the first time; your mouth worked against his and you circled your hips against his and you were consumed entirely by him. 
one of his hands pawed at your ass while the other worked on removing your bra. when he did finally get your bra unhooked, it was practically ripped off your body and thrown to the backseat. tyler’s lips reluctantly left yours but they immediately attached to your right breast, with his hand squeezing the left. he sucked a harsh mark into the flesh before his mouth circled your peaked nipple, sucking eagerly before rolling it gently between his teeth. 
“you have no idea how desperate i’ve been to get my mouth on your pretty tits, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you. his words caused your hips to stutter against his as you rode him, hitting your sweet spot and forcing a high pitched moan from you. 
“i need you to do it, ty,” you whimpered, hungry for him to take control again.
“such a good girl, telling me what you need.” his praise made you glow and you unconsciously clenched your muscles around him.
his grip on your ass tightened slightly before he slapped it, deliciously stinging your skin. you moaned and jerked forward again and your head immediately fell backwards, eyes rolling back. 
“god, y/n, you’re a walking turn on,” he moaned, hips starting to buck as he fucked into you. “you have no fuckin’ idea what you do to me. the number of times i’ve wanted to do this with you right here, audience be damned. the way i crave the taste of your sweet cunt on my tongue. having to stop myself from smacking your ass or squeezing your tits whenever you’re in those tiny bikinis or scraps of fabric that you call pyjamas. and now you’re mine and we can do all of it.”
you moaned and whimpered pathetically throughout tyler’s speech, the words that you were longing to hear from him finally being voiced while he fucked you. 
“i’m close,” you mumbled, bringing your hand to your mouth to muffle your noises. “need you to fill me up.”
his eyes squeezed shut due to your muffled words and he pulled your hand away from your mouth. “i’ll give you whatever you need, baby, but i need to hear you when i do,” he told you, linking your fingers together and resting your joined hands on his glistening chest. “cum for me, sweet girl. cum on my cock, let me feel you.”
his words tipped you over the edge and your muscles spasmed around him as you reached your climax, moaning his name as you did. tyler followed suit, filling you upon your request. 
“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, pulling your chest to his and kissing you again, sweetly this time despite your expectations.
the pair of you were a panting, sweaty mess when you both finished, but you didn’t break any of your attachments. he didn’t pull out of you, and he didn’t let you loosen your embrace.
“i guess you could say i wrangled your tornado, hm?” 
“you did not say that to me while i have your dick and cum inside me right now, tyler owens.”
“c’mon, darlin’, you obviously like my lines,” he teased, smiling sweet and sincere.
“more than just your lines. i like you,” you confessed, voice quiet and shy out of fear of rejection.
“yeah? you got a li’l crush on me?” his playful and teasing tone made you smile. dissipating any worries you had. this was the boy you were falling for. 
“just a little one. really, i’m just here for your truck.” the banter between the two of you was light and easy, something that you both always appreciated about each other. you clicked. 
“yeah, cowgirl, i know how you feel about my truck.”
you giggled at his response and kissed the bare, warm skin on his shoulder.
“you’re the most beautiful storm i’ve chased, y/n.” he looked into your eyes as he spoke, voice quiet as if speaking too loud would disrupt the moment.
“that’s funny. because you’re the sun coming up after the storm.”
Tumblr media
WHEW! first tyler fic done bbz<333 more to come, requests are open HERE! if you want to be tagged in future fics lmk, please tell me what you think, even if you think i should never write again ok thank u bye ily bye
taglist: @ronsbadidea
1K notes · View notes
stonedstr8 · 4 months ago
Text
TOKE 'N STROKE
"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"
He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.
Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.
Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"
He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"
Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."
Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"
"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.
"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.
A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"
After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.
"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.
Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...
...
When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.
When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.
"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.
Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"
After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."
*PHRRRBBBTTT!*
His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.
"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.
"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.
"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.
Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"
"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.
Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."
Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"
*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*
Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.
As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.
"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.
Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.
423 notes · View notes
kaesaaurelia · 8 months ago
Text
soooo I just finished watching that star wars hotel video and oh my god the fire safety what the fuckkkk
BUT ALSO if you are some kind of weirdo who watched this (or the evermore video) and was like "man I wish that thing existed but was good," I... can't help you specifically with Star Wars (or generic high fantasy settings) but if you are an adult or a family with teens (who are okay with some mild references to sexuality in a coming-of-age context -- which honestly would go over the heads of most kids too young to deal with them?), don't have issues with darkness, flashing lights, or potential immune issues due to touching touchscreens, and enjoy a little light cosmic and/or implied body horror I highly highly suggest going to Omega Mart next time you are in Las Vegas. It is surreal and fun and while I definitely ran into some issues there with 1. going down the story path I didn't mean to go down and 2. LOSING MY EMPLOYEE ID CARD (to be clear I did not work there, in the fiction of the game all guests are Omega Mart employees), there were helpful (actual) employees there to jump in and help me without breaking immersion at all. They were great.
There are some pathways (physical pathways) that require an ability to climb stairs but there are ALWAYS multiple paths between two points so while you might not be able to crawl through the tunnel and then climb the rope from [spoiler place] to [other spoiler place] or do the slides, you can still physically get to the plot-important places and I think at most people who can't do stairs miss... some kind of pointless music machines? (Which I had fun with ngl but I fucked around with them for like 10 minutes more because I was in the area looking for my lost ID badge and asking if people had found it.) I haven't been to the other Meow Wolf installations but I would love to go given the chance.
And if you really want a themed hotel... well, you can't find an eldritch dimension-hopping supermarket-themed hotel, no, but if you stay on the strip there's going to be a lot of neon and trying to sell you things, and also optionally a theme, so like. That's not dissimilar.
Fire safety both at these Vegas hotels and at Omega Mart will be better than crawling into a small closet with 4 of your closest friends and hoping to not die, also. And a substantial amount of the story of Omega Mart is "wow corporate greed does ruin everything," so if you liked the video you probably will also like this.
[Edit: also to be clear I don't really think Omega Mart is small-child-friendly, but mostly because it's a lot of reading, and the bulk of it is either corporate memos or a teenage girl's diaries. A lot of the stuff I found most engaging was exploring the strained intergenerational family dynamic between the girl, her mom, and her grandfather, something that small children would find either boring or upsetting or both. It's not the sexuality that's the issue, it's some offscreen implied character death-but-not-really (that not-really doesn't make it better!) and just plain bad parenting, plus the broader theme of a greedy grocery chain turning ancient mystery and natural wonder into queasy reality-breaking horror.]
182 notes · View notes
miraculouslbcnreactions · 23 days ago
Note
Marinette asked Tikki and Plagg what was Gabriel's exact Wish in the London special and they said he gave up his life for Nathalie's and that was it, nothing more to it. So the equivalent of the Wish was acquired, a life for a life, and nothing else negative nedeed to happen in order to balance out the universe after Gabriel's Wish according to the established lore. In Origins Gabriel wouldn't have been willing to give up his own life, which means he would've sacrificed an innocent person's life to revive Emilie. I guess the S5 finale is considered a win for the heroes according to the writers' own words cause they prevented Gabriel from sacrificing an innocent person for his Wish (as Gabriel can't be considered as such) even they couldn't prevent his Wish.
I guess that's why they walked back on reviving Emilie cause 1 life for 2 wouldn't fly (as this one's already stretching it considering that Gabriel was mortally wounded by the Cataclysm when he used his life up as an offering for the Wish) and I think the writers didn't want to bother with more consequences for the Wish.
(Post that spawned this ask)
I have yet to see the London special, but I took a look at the transcript and you're right. That does seem to be the official word:
Marinette: What did Gabriel Agreste wish for? Plagg: (sadly) He... gave up his life. Tikki:(sadly) In return for Nathalie's, knowing she was gravely ill. Nathalie:(shocked) He... did that?
*clears throat*
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? That's it??? That's the wish??? The entire universe was rewritten so that a domestic terrorists didn't need to suffer the consequences of her own fully informed choice?
Gabriel: I told you never to use the Peacock Miraculous! Nathalie: I had no choice, sir. I had to save you! (coughs) Gabriel: It's damaged. It's way too dangerous. Nathalie: I want to help you all the way to the end. (smiles) Gabriel: (glares at her but then smiles) Thank you, Nathalie. (puts his hand on top of hers) For everything.
Don't get me wrong, Nathalie living was obviously part of the wish, I just expected more. If you're going to have the villain win, then go big! (I will die on the hill that, if they wanted to "redeem" Gabriel via a wish, then the wish should have been to make the sentikids real humans.) Then again, this does fall perfectly in line with things like the season three and four finals. Something major that should have changed everything, but that ends up having almost no meaningful impact on the story.
Having an official word on this doesn't actually change my stance on the wish, though. If Gabriel making a wish is not a massive no, then everything about the story was pointless in my eyes. If Gabriel was willing to change his mind in his moment of triumph after a season where he was at his absolute worst, then I do not believe that he would have been unwilling to change back in Origins. That's simply not the story that the writers told.
Based on what canon actually gave us, Gabriel would have been willing to change his mind at any time so long as he saw that video of Emilie saying "don't revive me." That video wasn't even directed at him personally! It was an incredibly tepid plea for Nathalie to not mourn her:
Emilie: (from the video recording) Don't be sad, Nathalie. You know that I had agreed to it, that Gabriel never forced me to do anything. But he should never try to bring me back. No one should have their life stolen from them because of the mistake that we made. You must continue to be happy, even though I'm no longer here. As long as there's love, it is possible. Adrien will be well-surrounded. He'll have you, Nathalie, and he'll have his father if Gabriel agrees to give up on his madness... and on me. (Gabriel breaks down.) Adrien... will have all the love he needs to be happy. Bug Noire: And that's what happened. Adrien has learned to live, and built his own happiness while cherishing the memory of his mother. She would be proud of him. Gabriel: (whilst his shaky hands reach for the paused image of Emilie on the phone) I... just can't live without her. (sobs) I loved her so much. When she left me, the world shut down around me. I still remember her smile the day Adrien was born. When I placed him in her arms, for so long, we've been thinking that we would never be able to have a child. Adrien was our little miracle. (voice breaks) Everything was so... perfect, until Emilie became ill. She is— She was right: Adrien was not alone. He had Nathalie and me. I've ruined everything. Nathalie's about to disappear, (the tip of his index finger shatters) and so am I. Adrien will have no one left.
If this lackluster moment could change his mind, then lots of things would have because there's no way in hell that the video was new information. It's even arguable the video didn't change his mind. At least, not the way I'd expect if we're going for a positive, meaningful message. Gabriel still doesn't want to live without Emilie. What we see in this scene and the official word of god is that Gabriel picked death over a life without Emilie:
Émilie will not be brought back to life as Gabriel has finally mourned her death, which Adrien has already done for a long time. But Gabriel cannot live without her and decides to die with her.
I would not call this good, meaningful growth for Gabriel. Nor would I call it a positive, uplifting message for children. I'd call it a horrifying and disgusting message for anyone who has ever suffered intense grief from the loss of a loved one, but let's not dwell on that too much. Instead, let's keep our focus on what Gabriel's choice means for the overall story.
The word of god and the implications of this scene are also that talking it out was all anyone ever needed to do:
In the end, it is not violence or strength that wins, but people talking to each other and opening up about their feelings. It is when people are not subject to their emotions, but instead try to understand them to think better and take the right decisions.
If this is true and it's okay for Gabriel to pick suicide over a life without Emilie, then all of Paris pointlessly suffered because of a simple communication issue. Ladybug and Chat Noir should have just asked Gabriel what his wish was, told him that he'd have to sacrifice himself or a willing third party to make that work, and then let him decide if he wanted to switch places with Emilie. Alternatively, he could have sacrificed himself for some innocent like a cancer patient and gone to be with his wife in death in that person's place. Same ending, just with the bonus of saving someone from cancer! You cannot convince me that he wouldn't go for it based on what we see in canon.
As a quick final note, letting Gabriel make the wish not only ruins the story, it also ruins the lore because we have to actually consider what the wish does now. As you said in the ask, it doesn't make any sense. If Gabriel is literally moments away from dying, then how can he give up his life for Nathalie's? And why do you need to rewrite the universe when the wish is something so minor? How does rewriting the universe make the wish come true? What actually changed? Did Nathalie now never use the peacock? Did her illness just switch to Gabriel? If so, how? I have so many questions that I know will never be answered because they don't exist. The lore is simply not strong enough to hold up to up any level of scrutiny.
62 notes · View notes
thefanficmonster · 11 months ago
Note
hii could i request a Seth Borden x gn!reader where the readers been teasing him abt being scared while they’re filming a haunted video and then they comfort him when he gets genuinely scared?? TYY
Hi sweetheart! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy the fic <3
Lots of love, Vy 💌
Tumblr media
Safety Blanket
Pairing: Seth Borden x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Warnings: Swearing, Ghostly activity, Paranormal Investigations
Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)
Summary: see request above
"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" I mentally check out for a few seconds as Sam and Colby start filming the intro to their video as Seth and I idle around in the background. "Today, we'll be investigating one of the most brutal prisons in US history." Colby explains to the camera, turning to Sam to give him his cue.
"The Darkmont Correctional Facility in Huntsville, Alabama." The blond declares before turning off the. "We'll film the history segment inside, it's too windy out here. The audio will be a bitch to edit." He tells us, tilting his head to the entrance gates of the massive and downright terrifying building that has been abandoned for decades.
A shiver runs down my spine as I look up at it. Not so much out of fear, more so excitement. I was an urban explorer long before meeting and dating Seth, let alone Sam and Colby. I have a decent pile of trespassing charges under my belt but my adventures never included dabbling into the paranormal. It brings a whole new level of adrenaline to the table and it always makes for a remarkable experience, especially with these guys.
Seth, on the other hand, approaches the paranormal with much more skepticism and a ton more fear which I believe contradict one another - how can you be afraid of something you don't believe in? But alas, I don't fight him on it, I know it's pointless.
Messing with him, however, works like a charm.
I take my opportunity to do just that when I see him very visibly gulp as he takes in the exterior of the prison as we enter the courtyard past the giant metal gates the tour-guide left open for us.
"Someone's looking paler than usual." I poke his side with my finger, hitting a particularly ticklish spot that causes him to jump.
He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together, "Not at all, I've seen worse." He shrugs, feigning nonchalance with a simple shrug even though I can clearly see the goosebumps on his skin.
"Whatever you say, babe." I mock him with a pout, dragging him along with me, forcing some speed in his steps to catch up with the guys.
The interior is infinitely worse than the exterior. It's stonewall, concrete and metal wherever the eye can see - which isn't much considering how dark it is. No lights are on, the only visibility being provided by the daylight seeping in through the barred up windows. It's a pretty cloudy day so there's not much of said daylight to go around either.
In short, it's the perfect atmosphere.
That's only confirmed further when I feel Seth's hand tightening its hold on mine, seeking the comfort he's too prideful to actually ask for.
"Welcome, yall." A deep voice with a southern drawl catches our attention out of the blue, startling us. Well, some more than others considering I didn't fail to pick on Seth's little jump out of the corner of my eye. I can't help but laugh, causing him to blush.
The voice belongs to our tour-guide Alan. He greets us each individually before starting the tour, telling us the stories stemming from this place. Sam, Colby and I take turns holding the main camera, capturing different angles as we walk through the eerie halls and cells. Seth tried helping out as well but his hands are too unsteady to get any usable footage so he's just taken to carrying the bag with the equipment and holding my hand as if I'm the scared one.
As the tour comes to an end, Alan turns off the lights he had turned on at the beginning, wishes us luck and sets off on his way, saying he hopes to see us all alive and well in the morning. It's the cherry on top of the terror cake he'd made with the history of the place as well as visitor horror stories. He gave us further proof of the paranormal activity in the place with pictures and recordings that Seth discreetly avoided looking at for too long.
The early hours of the night are upon us at this point and we've switched over to flashlights and the camera light to guide ourselves around the premises. Sam and Colby excuse themselves to the so called 'taming dungeon' to film the history segment for the video.
I walk around, looking at the marks on the stone walls while Seth remains rigid and jumpy in the middle of the large space that used to be a lobby. When I stray down the hall, following a trail of what I hope is paint on the wall, he jogs to catch up, prompting a laugh from me.
"Don't worry, babe. I ain't going anywhere. You're alright. The ghosts aren't coming to get you....yet." I add the last part with a low whisper and a tickle to the back of his neck. I've come to realize that defocusing his attention from the fear factor and instead move it to our banter is the best course of action. He'll never admit he's scared, so the best I can do is try and actually make him forget he's scared.
"Shut up..." He laughs, tickling my side as a counter-attack. "You're the worst."
I grin up at him, "Oh you love it."
Something tells me it's gonna be a pretty long night.
* * * *
"Is it just me or is it freezing in here?" Seth speaks up as we migrate from one floor onto the next after a brief investigation with the flashlights and other equipment. The spirits are talkative but dodged properly answering any of the questions we asked. They actually appeared to be talking amongst themselves more than us but it was still informative.
"I think it's cause you're a little bitch." Colby, who's also been put on edge by the activity we've gotten so far, replies. He masks his own fear by messing with the rest of us and I respect that. I'm doing the same.
"Oh fuck you!" Seth laughs, lightly punching his arm, "Y/N back me up here!"
Sam and I have already begun setting up the flashlights and REM pod so I'm partially distracted when I turn my head to look at the two. I glance between them, Colby giving me a fast nod. "Yeah, whatever Colby said." I shrug, evoking two completely different reactions from them.
As soon as we start, we are basically told to leave. We try to get a few questions in to try and ease up the tension but the spirit's opinion doesn't change - he wants us gone. And I can't blame him, if I died in this horrible place the last thing I'd want is to talk about it.
With that last group investigation we reach the audience favorite - and Seth's most dreaded - part: the solo investigations.
A game of rock-paper-scissors decides the areas we'd be covering: Colby takes the attic, Seth is on the second floor, I get the ground floor and Sam takes the basement somewhat voluntarily - something I greatly admire. We each take a piece of equipment with us and we split up.
"Hey..." I take Seth's hand before he follows Colby up the stairs, "I'm just a flight of stairs away. If you get freaked out, just call out to me, I'll meet you at these stairs, ok?"
He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and truthfully - I needed that. "I'll be ok, I hope. But the same goes for you. Anything happens, I'll be right down."
With a parting kiss, we each begin our investigations.
I, for some reason, chose the music box to be my piece of equipment. I've placed it at the beginning of the main hallway and take a seat in a fold up chair, turning on night vision on my camera.
"Here goes nothing. I'll be fine, I'm far more worried about Seth, he hasn't been handling the night very well..." just as I say that I hear a voice and my heart nearly drops in my ass. Turns out I haven't been handling it all too well either, considering Sam's faint voice was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.
I take a deep breath, willing myself to actually say something to the potential presence keeping me company at the moment. Just then, the music box whirrs to life, playing its creepy tune for a good couple of seconds, as if encouraging me. "Hi, are you here in the hall with me?"
The answer is almost immediate as the music box comes to life once more.
"Were you a prisoner here?" I ask once the tune has stopped playing. I get no answer so I try again, "A guard?"
There it is, I think as the music creepily bounces off the walls in the quiet space. Sam has walked to a different part of the basement because I can no longer hear him. It makes the situation much more eerie, makes me feel much more alone.
I throw out a few more questions with no outcome that can be considered content worthy so I begrudgingly decide to relocate to somewhere else on the floor. Just as I grab he music box to turn it off, I hear a huge crash from upstairs and a string of curses that quickly get louder, accompanied with footsteps approaching the staircase behind me.
I quickly flick on the camera light, illuminating Seth who gallops down the stairs with inhuman speed. I barely manage to catch him, placing my hands on his arms in order to slow him into a halt and stabilize him. He's shaking like a leaf, his eyes are wide and his face has reached a sickly shade of pale.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened?" I ask as I pull him into a hug, "Hey, you're ok, you're ok. Everything's ok."
I see Sam peep his head up from the staircase, coming up from the basement, alerted by the noise. "What's wrong?" He asks as he jogs over to us. Colby is nowhere to be found, clearly oblivious to what happened.
"I...oh fuck...." Seth mutters, his breathing still heavy, "I mean, I got what I asked for. I wanted a clear sign and a door slammed shut. It freaked me the fuck out." He explains, still extremely shaken up but a bit calmer as he clings to me.
"Ok, ok, well that's great." I see the conflict on Sam's face, balancing between excitement over the footage Seth captured and worry for his friend. "Are you alright? Take a breather, stay here. I'll go grab Colby and we'll do the Estes method when you're ready." He says calmingly, his gaze fixating on me for rational and coherent responses but all I can do is nod, my full focus is taken up by Seth.
"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Holy shit, that was insane, though." He manages to say, tapping Sam on the shoulder, "Go get Colby."
I lead my boyfriend over to the chair I was previously occupying and sit him down, crouching in front of him, "You captured something incredible back there, babe. You're incredible!" My hands rest on his knees as I too still am wrapping my brain around what happened just now. "Whoever was there with you can't hurt you. You're stronger than them and you have authority. Hey, they might like you, even! I barely got anything down here. The spirits must really like you to shut a whole ass door for you." I'm rambling, I'm aware, but it seems to be working since Seth is smiling now, some color having returned to his cheeks.
He lets out a chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair, "Well, I am the distant relative of a murderer. That's gotta count for something." He says, making me laugh.
"That's what I'm talking about." I smile up at him, my thumb drawing abstract patterns on his knee, relieved to see he's feeling better already.
"Thank you." He adds after a stretch of silence, "You're like my safety blanket." His hand cups my cheek, automatically prompting me to lean into his touch immediately.
"Happily, babe." I slowly rise up so I can lean in and meet him halfway.
Just as our lips are within a millimeter, we hear pure disbelief echo off the walls as two pairs of footsteps rush down the stairs. "A fucking door slammed shut?!!" Colby shouts breathlessly, causing us both to burst out laughing.
168 notes · View notes
prodbyton · 4 months ago
Note
i feel like nobody writes about seunghan these days which is kinda understandable but still i miss him so much :((( currently thinking about him having to go on tour and spending like the entire week before he has to leave being so clingy and needy like you're trying to get enough of him to keep you satisfied while he's gone (which lets be real is pointless because you can never get enough of him <\3) so then seunghan is teasing you and asking what you're going to do when he's not there but before you can answer he's like "show me." and you're like ??? so he says "show me what you're going to do when i'm not here to give my greedy baby what she needs." and before you know it he's making you touch yourself while he watches (and maybe records it) and refuses to help >:(((
i can understand why people are kinda straying away from writing for hani more recently because i honestly i had to basically stop writing for him a little bit (full fics at least) cuz i would just feel like shit writing it cuz i miss him so bad its just hard to really write smut for him rn yk… like i literally have a seunghan smut ive had drafted since april i dont have the heart to finish it 😭 but i miss him sm i re read all my fav hani fics so often
but this is so… yeah 😇🩷
you can never get enough of seunghan and he couldn’t get enough of you either, spending every waking moment with each other that way you wont miss him too much (it makes you miss him more when he’s gone) and when its getting to the last day before he has to go… you’re shocked when he asks what you’re going to do to satisfy yourself when he’s away.
imagine he buys you a new toy too, and telling you to use it and he wants to watch, he might even choose the settings and tell you to do it exactly how he says when he’s gone too. he’ll record it so he can have the video to use for when he’s missing you too <3 wouldn’t help you even if you’re whining about how you wish it was him touching you, wants you to make yourself cum at the thought of him and seeing him watch you honestly made the feeling more intense.
44 notes · View notes
hplonesomeart · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Hey!! So turns out a video I made between a certain “well beloved but highly sensitive/emotionally reactive T.V” and an “orange haired inkling-turned-human” has managed to sweep my YouTube channel and accumulate 100k VIEWS!! THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY?? My most widely viewed video EVER to exist in this moment in time?? AAAAA?? Not even mentioning the various comments and staggering increase in subs! It’s so much more then what I expected or even prepared for—might even be the most impactful thing to happen for me this year <3
…aside from graduating high school + the social connections I’ve been fortunate to make lol
BUT THE POINT IS I’d been closely monitoring the YouTube growth through the entirety of October. It’s make me smile like a dork, gawk in astonishment, dance frantically in my room from the energy boosts, and grow courage to stop being so selective/self-conscious with what I wish to share with the world! It’s kept my ambitions going!
I needed to find some way to celebrate the occasion and express my thanks—because I can’t NOT acknowledge this milestone jksjskp. Typically I try to avoid getting tunnel visioned focusing on the metrics/numbers. Mr. Puzzles had already demonstrated how much those things can mess with the minds of creatives. Caring too much about chasing views or placing your artistic value in attention seeking gets damaging. But at same time…it’s hard to deny the sense of pride the 100k achievement has filled me with. I understand that reaching 100k views doesn’t immediately make me any “better” or “worse” then I was before. I’m still just me! It only helps me feel seen by others—and that’s all I really needed. To hear some nice words & receive reminders that my ideas are cared about. So thank you SMG4 fandom for that, seriously thank you.
Please accept this Mr. Puzzle drawing as a way of sharing the happiness around. He’s so entertaining. Love him for simply existing. So glad we can all collectively be super attached to him (and the rest of the SMG4 cast of course). Can’t wait to see more incredible artworks from the fandom :)
Tumblr media
Just incase anyone is confused by my vague description over which “animated video” I’m referring to here—hopefully this photo will help clarify lol. It’s this one!! Sorry about not outright stating the title at the start, I got carried away with writing!!
I’ve been in an odd place mentally when thinking about it. Wondering to myself if any of the attention is deserved considering it’s not even fully colored and could be dismissed as “low effort” content (despite taking several days making it). It’s easy to get into a trap of comparing yourself to others and questioning how much of the videos success is based on your skills, sheer algorithm luck, or only because you used popular characters and catered to a specific fandom. And then judging yourself by looking at other peoples videos. I’ve seen several artists post higher quality works then my own but it somehow gets less views. So why did mine succeed when others (who should have gotten just as much attention if not more) didn’t? Sometimes you feel like you’ve unfairly robbed them of that chance to be seen. However I’ve realized that I can’t ever expect views to be consistent—and comparing is pointless. So why worry about it or feel inadequate? I mean it’s pretty common for funny cat videos to go viral, so who am I to question the system lol. “Popular” YouTube videos can range from a passion project which took 7+ artists…to a clip of Toad singing Chandelier or a nonsensical Vine sketch. Anything can happen when it’s the internet! And just-so-happened my video was chosen. I should stay glad about that and get rid of all the overanalyzing. So that’s what I’ve chosen to do :)
#OKAY SO SO SO actually started doodling this once the video was around 98k this morning#it wasn’t even meant to be art specifically designed to celebrate the milestone at first#I just wanted to draw the funky fella who makes me laugh#but as you can see that changed up fast jksjksp#I was under the impression that my video wouldn’t reach near 100k until December UH?? WHAT HAPPENED MY PREDICTION THWARTED??#seems I’ve severally underestimated how long the traction would continue for geez wow uh#people sure do enjoy comedy gotta love ‘em laughs and giggles#I CAN’T BELIEVE WE REACHED IT THO. THAT’S INSANE TO ME—ALL THE SUPPORT AND COMMENTS AND SUBS#thank you SMG4 fandom I would’ve never fathomed the algorithm to carry it so far like this#you wanna know the real kicker?#things would have gone so differently for the channel if I didn’t wrestle with my anxiety & post there#because there was a point during that day where I fullheartedly figured it would cause me to loose subs#I was kinda terrified ngl#this goes to show that you should never hold yourself back from sharing different aspects of your interests#you don’t need to confine yourself to just one thing#or to strive only to make the most high quality videos ever (I put that pressure on myself a bit too much nowadays)#sometimes it’s the simple ideas that manage to charm people#and those who see the effort will stick around to support you. You just need to trust yourself during the process and take that chance :)#EWWWW MUSHY GUSHY SENTIMENTALITY CLOGGING UP THE ATTENTION HERE#whatever happened to keeping the focus on ✨the star✨ who made it all possible to begin with huuuu??#show a bit more gratitude to the charming TV who boosted the viewership in the first place…don’t be so self absorbed with morals lonesome 😒#what is this some sort of My Little Pony episode oh pleaseeeeee 🙄#<- all of that was a simulation of Puzzles interjecting and nagging a bit lol. I’d imagine he’s tried of my nonstop nonsense#….yea the Puzzle brainrot is reaching maximum severities. So there’s high chance I’ll be animating him more down the line :3#stick around to find out!!#hplonesome art
22 notes · View notes
thewertsearch · 1 year ago
Text
@skelekingfeddy submitted: hey so i was reading through your homestucksona tag and i decided to draw some of your concepts, namely sahlee’s lusus, the midnight crew, and the Palace Historian! i also sprinkled in some of my own ideas (i mean i literally made a whole new exile LOL) hope you like it!
Tumblr media
Holy hell, that is some top god-tier spritework. You've officially canonized my Grubsprite's design.
Tumblr media
In fact, I don't even know if this was deliberate, but her wires look a lot like the ones in this picture of Sahlee. Above is the same image, without the shadow layer, and even the colors match.
The idea here is that Sahlee is using her psionics to interface directly with her technology. I like the idea that she's able to 'talk' to Grubmom over the network - they probably play a lot of video games together. Maybe it was Grubmom who told her about the most important video game of all.
Tumblr media
It feels so right that DD is the best hacker in the Crew. Those glasses were actually part of Sahlee's as-yet-unseen alchemy binge - and unfortunately for her, he actually knows how to use the computer inside.
Tumblr media
I love the Investigator, too. I think the catalyst for her Exile was her association with one particular Dersite - a Battlefield farmer who wished to end this pointless war.
By this point, the Investigator had pilfered several files from the Black Queen's private archives, and learned more than any rank-and-file Carapacian was ever supposed to know. She knew that her friend's uprising would be sabotaged by Paradox Space - so she suggested a more decentralized form of resistance.
Together, they worked on a tell-all news article about the true cost of the War. They didn't pull any punches, either - the article called Derse's entire raison d'etre into question, demanding to know what the Royal Plan even is.
"WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE WIN, EH?
AIN'T IT KINDA WEIRD THAT THE SUITS HAVEN'T TOLD US?
ALL THOSE BOYS IN MAROON... WHAT ARE THEY ACTUALLY FIGHTIN' FOR?"
It even dared to ask why they hated Bilious Slick.
Tumblr media
Anyway, the Black Queen caught the article through the malware she'd hidden in PawnziBuddy, a 'virtual tyrant' that every Dersite is legally required to install. She canned the article, Exiled the Investigator, and turned the tabloid's server rack into a GristCoin mine.
HI also sent a copy to a Prospitian she trusted - but, oddly enough, that archivist vanished without a trace. Prospit is surely beyond the Black Queen's reach, so it was probably just an unhappy coincidence.
Sad, though - that document could have won Prospit the war. It's too bad that the White Queen never got her hands on it.
150 notes · View notes
kasslovestlou · 10 months ago
Text
Waiting… (E.W x Fem Reader)
Modern AU.
I didn’t write this too well but I’ll write some more once I get more ideas. Enjoy!
____________________
You were waiting for you best friend at the airport. It was 10:16pm and your were exhausted although you had arrived just almost an hour ago and had slept for majority of the day.
Your friend hadn’t message you any updates and although you thought maybe they were on their way…it didn’t seem so.
Having nothing else to do, you decided on messaging your girlfriend, not to complain but just to help pass time.
You:
Hey babe, wyd?
Els:
Reading “No Pun Intended” Volume Too”.
You:
You’re still reading it!? I thought you finished reading those a long time ago! 😂
Els:
They keep releasing new ones. They’re really cheesy but good.
You:
Alright, I’m in the mood. Try me.
Els:
What is the downside to eating a clock?
You:
…?
Els:
It’s time consuming 🕐
You:
That’s a rlly good one 😂😂. I wish time would go by faster. I’m gonna fall asleep.
Els: Are you okay? What’s going on?
You: I’m at the airport and have been for alsmost an hour now waiting for my best friends arrival but she isn’t replying to my messages so I decided to text you in hopes of helping time pass by. Sorry for interrupting you.
Els: No, no it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll come and keep you company. On my way now.
30 minutes later, you saw Ellie just a few ways away from you.
“Hey babe” she said as she sat beside to accompanying your boredom.
“Hi Els. Thanks again for coming and keeping me company, I hope this won’t take too long. It’s almost midnight.” You told her as you yawned at the last few words.
“It’s okay. If you wanna sleep, I’ll be your pillow.”
“It’s ok, thanks though.” You would take her offer any day but you were too excited to see your best friend who you had been video calling the past 2 years. You were way too excited.
Minutes of silence passed as the two of you sat and waited for any updates from your fiend but still nothing.
“Hey” Ellie turned to you.
“Hm?” You hummed in response.
“What did the triangle say to the circle?”
You thought for a moment before giving up and not being able to think of an answer.
“I dunno, what did it say?”
“You’re so pointless.”
You burst out in laughter, but you didn’t care wether you bothered the people around you. You smacked your thigh as your head went up to the ceiling as your fit of laughter continued.
It was only then when you had just calmed down that you got a message your friend as on their way.
You truly didn’t know what you’d do without your girlfriend coming to accompany you.
61 notes · View notes
lulublack90 · 5 months ago
Text
Prompt 18 - Gymnastics
@wolfstarmicrofic August 18, word count 986
Previous part First Jegulus part
Sirius led everyone back to his and Remus’s flat. He was so excited about the BBQ. But what he was most excited about was the big bag of marshmallows he’d bought to toast over the fire. He dragged Remus by his hand to the front door and unlocked it. He inhaled deeply when they walked in. He loved his home so much. They hadn’t been here long, but it already held so many happy memories for him. 
James strode through the flat and straight out the French windows into the garden. Regulus stood a bit out of place near the front door until he followed James outside and watched him build up the fire. Sirius and Remus were terrible at starting the BBQ. Even with the easy light bags, somehow they never took. Sirius shrugged and went into the kitchen to get the food out of the fridge, ready to be cooked. 
He could hear James talking in the living room, something about the sofa being soft. Remus darted past him and poked his head around the door.
“If you break it, Potter, you’re paying for another one. Remember last time?” Sirius had to bury his face in the crook of his arm to stop them hearing his laughter. 
“Er, yeah, sorry, Moony,” James said sheepishly. Sirius could hear Regulus whispering excitedly and James’s deep voice rumbling out his excuse for breaking their sofa. They got up and Sirius couldn’t hear them any more. 
He began mixing together his secret salad dressing. It was simple but brought the otherwise bitter leaves to life. It was a recipe that Effie had given him, passed down from her mother and stolen from some friend of her mother. James wouldn’t have any other kind of dressing and was known to sneak a small bottle of it into restaurants and use that instead of whatever they had. 
He checked the steaks he’d been marinating overnight. They smelled divine, peppery and herby. They had sausages and chicken wings as well, plus loads of sides. There was no way they were going to eat it all, but Sirius didn’t mind eating the rest tomorrow. 
“Darling, did you leave you know what on the bedside table?” Remus asked matter-of-factly. Sirius paled.
“Yup,” He swallowed, but he could already hear James and Regulus coming back from that direction, so it was pointless trying to dive and roll around them with all of his teenage gymnastics skills to stop them from seeing what he’d forgotten to put away. Regulus appeared in the doorway beside James and flushed brightly when they made eye contact. “Right start taking this stuff out,” He ordered, trying to get Regulus away from him. He spun to check the dressing again and by the time he’d picked up his own plates to take outside, both Regulus and James were gone. 
“Don’t worry, my love. It could have been worse,” Remus said, stealing a kiss before he followed the others outside. 
He was so full. He could see his stomach protruding over his jeans. He wished he’d changed into his leggings, but now he didn’t want to move. He popped another toasted marshmallow into his mouth and groaned as the sweet gooey mess spread inside his mouth after he broke through the toasted skin. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through tictok.
He was just popping another marshmallow into his mouth when his thumb froze. He was in a video. 
“WHAT THE ACTUAL!!!” He yelled at his phone as it played a video of him berating Regulus in the café from the other day. He clicked on the creator’s profile, Wormtail was their name and scrolled through. There were a lot of different people losing it in public, but the ones with the most views were of him in the café. “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?!” He cried angrily at his phone. That’s when he noticed the logo, a fat grey rat. The rat phone case man! He was going to kill him. “And I gave you an extra almond croissant you little shit! That's it he’d banned!” 
Remus’s hands found his shoulders and began pushing him into the flat. He looked around for his brother and James, but they’d gone. He had no idea when they’d disappeared, but he was more concerned with the next video that came up of Wormtail going into the back of the café to film him ranting at the toastie machines when he’d burnt his hand on one. That was crossing the line. “Remus,” He said, calmer than before, and held up the phone for Remus to see. 
“What the!” Remus was outraged now. “It clearly says, Staff Only, No Entry, Private, on the door!” His brow was furrowed in anger as he scrolled through a few more of the videos. “It’s not the first time either, look,” Sirius peered at the screen and saw himself rocking back and forth chanting. “Be nice, be nice,” The camera suddenly turned to the ceiling and bounced into the store cupboard before cutting off. “That’s right when you came and got me,” Sirius whispered. He’d been feeling so vulnerable in that moment and some guy he didn’t even know had recorded it and posted it online for likes. “Fuck,” He sobbed. Remus’s arms wrapped him in a tight warm hug.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” He murmured into Sirius’s hair. 
Remus led Sirius to the bedroom, wrapping him in the duvet before going to run a bath. He took Sirius’s phone away from him and Sirius was grateful. He’d only spend the entire night watching the videos over and over, making himself feel worse. At least he had tomorrow to sort himself out. 
“Remus?” His voice was croaky and muffled from the duvet. 
“Yes, sweetheart,” Remus came back in from the bathroom and stroked his hair. 
“Can we go see Mum tomorrow?” 
Next part
24 notes · View notes
mrsmarlasinger · 2 years ago
Text
The surreal thing about the Titan submersible: unless someone pulls off a miraculous last-minute rescue, when we all wake up tomorrow, those five men will be dead.
I mean, assuming they haven't already hyperventilated the last of their oxygen or imploded in a hull failure event.
It's currently June 22nd, 1:48 AM, MDT. If they're still alive, they will not be within the next...what, three hours? Give or take. And it would take hours to get the sub to the surface if it were found miles underwater, so if it's at the bottom of the sea, that really gives the rescuers...I don't know, like, maybe an hour to pull off the impossible?
These men are about to cross the event horizon.
When the banging sounds were first reported, it blew my fucking mind. I'd been certain that they were dead already, or that if they weren't, they would be soon. Without question. Then came this bizarre, impossible glimmer of hope. And I thought, if those sounds really were occurring at thirty-minute intervals, if it really was the Titan passengers, then maybe—maybe—they had a chance.
But they just...don't. Let's be realistic: they're about to die. We know this. We know for a fact that their time is about to run out.
And I know people are angry about the Missing White Woman Syndrome feel of it all. It would make for such on-the-nose satire. Five wealthy men have the world on pins and needles; where was that energy when hundreds of refugees drowned off the coast of Greece a week ago?
It frustrates me that I'm so invested in the Titan sub. It's like the entire incident was orchestrated for the sole purpose of grabbing attention (of course I don't believe that's the case). The very premise of the sub is tauntingly ridiculous—so very blatantly an expensive suicide. I saw someone compare it to an Onion article, and it IS.
The shitty video game controller, the ominous waiver, Stockton Rush's portentous comments (hell, even his name), the toilet sat right in front of that tiny dollhouse window. The absurd price tag paired with a history of failed dives and an OceanGate employee fired and sued years ago for raising safety concerns.
God, it's so dumb. It's so so fucking dumb. In real life, what we'd call "foreshadowing" is really just actions→consequences. But still. Still. It reads like sitcom writers setting the dominos for a season finale, tirelessly working to maximize memeability so we can all point and laugh with our popcorn.
The sheer pointless, brainless, wasteful extravagance of it all makes it easy to forget how horrific and tragic the ordeal really is. It grants us some strange permission to rubberneck.
And, well, who wouldn't want to rubberneck? The drama. Horror movie levels of repulsion. Any fear you can imagine—the dark, the cold, the ocean, suffocation, confined spaces, death—all wrapped into one perfect, cinematic nightmare. It's a black comedy: dumbassery punished by a fate we don't, shouldn't, wish even on billionaires.
Then, of course, there is the deadline. Pun not intended.
That, I think, is what's really gripped us. The limited oxygen supply is a countdown, a ticking time bomb. Ten minutes left in the movie—can the protagonist pull off a daring escape in time?
God, I know I sound like one of those crisis actor conspiracy theorists, but you couldn't manufacture a more gripping story if you tried. That hard figure we've seen in every news article: 96 hours. Ninety-six hours to save the day.
Can you see the Netflix docudrama now? The cuts to a black screen with the remaining number of hours emblazoned in the center? "If we don't find that sub tonight, those men are dead," some intrepid rescuer says...a split second of grave silence...then the scene goes black, except for a line of heavyweight white text that reads, in all caps, "SIX HOURS REMAINING." Next we'll see a heart-wrenchingly candid conversation between the passengers, for character development.
You know Channel 5 is airing a documentary about the Titan in the UK tomorrow. Tonight, actually, since I guess it's technically Thursday morning. The countdown was so hard-set, ITN calculated the exact hour at which they could broadcast their production. The perfect moment for them to capitalize on that post-curtains melancholy we all get at the end of a movie.
It's crass, but fascinating, too. Is ITN going to acknowledge their production timeline by leaving the documentary's ending ambiguous, a choice which will ring bittersweet when aired in the aftermath of the inevitable deaths? Will they scramble to concoct an ending in those mere hours after the passengers asphyxiate? Have they already made two endings: one in case of a miracle, and one in case of a tragedy? Any answer is soulless.
But all of this is soulless. The Titan is our gladiator fight, our bread and circuses. Still, I can't stop staring, because I cannot wrap my head around it. It's 3:30 AM now. Within hours, they will be dead, sure as an execution.
Few news stories come with such a grim deadline. Almost always it's a nail-biting rescue whose twists and turns we follow until some hitherto-unpredictable endpoint; or a sprawling clusterfuck of tragedy trailed by aftermath upon aftermath; or a search for a missing person that eventually meanders into a quiet presumption of death.
The certainty blows my mind—the finality of it, the tragedy of it, is incomprehensible. It doesn't feel real. Why do I care so much? Those men were dead from the start (if not literally, then certainly figuratively). Why do I keep reading about it, posting about it? Why can't I stop watching the car wreck smolder? What am I doing still standing in the street?
I hate that I fell prey to the submarine story like everyone else with an internet connection. But whatever deity may or may not exist got bored, I guess, and crafted the dramedy-action-horror hybrid of the year. Even wove in little cliffhangers (the banging! On the sonobuoys! There's still time!) to string us along like a damn HBO producer.
It gets me, man.
It's 4:00 AM, MDT. I guess it's really over, huh? I know 96 hours was never an exact deadline, but let's not be idealistic here.
I hope it was quick. I hope they imploded in a single terrible instant.
I hope the next sunken boat of six hundred refugees wins as much attention as the Titan did.
I hope Netflix doesn't make that docudrama with the black screen and the all-caps line of heavyweight white text.
I hope we sleep. I hope I sleep. I hope we all can sleep.
Tumblr media
185 notes · View notes
bananasfosterparent · 9 months ago
Note
I'm gonna be real, I'm very worried that Larian is going to try & make AA even more overtly the "bad choice" in their next patch (they promised some epilogue animations). I just really don't understand why the antis have to be so obnoxiously loud telling a company to change THEIR game because of a way they choose to interpret something. Isn't the whole point of an RPG that you're allowed to craft a narrative around the narrative-- but to pressure the writers into editing their hard work because they "don't like it" is just so,,,,..ugh
I just wish people would stop infantilizing the crap out of Astarion as a character. They give him all these sweet HC when half of them are just Wyll.. Like the "I can fix him" complex has rotted our society
Honestly? I'm not worried about it at all.
Mostly because I don't think Larian cares lmao At least, not in that way.
Get ready, it's 1am, I had my meds, and had some caffeine, so here comes ramble :D
They want to please their fans, and while spawn fans make up a majority of the Astarion side of the fandom, and there may be (speculated) peices in place to make AA seem worse in-game with these updates....I honestly don't think Larian as a whole cares enough to join in on the one-sided righteousness battle.
They made this game for the purpose that most AA fans (at least, ones I know) use it for: roleplaying, as you pointed out. And I'm very sure they aren't blind to just how one-sided the discourse is.
For example, on the official Larian Discord server, AA fans voiced their opinion on the Tav/Durge expressions in the new AA kisses. And from what I saw, the opinions were presently respectfully and with the roleplay experience in mind. How the expressions aren't ideal for evil roleplay. But after that, the same suggestions thread got clogged with anti-AA players begging Larain to "not destroy the narrative" they've apparently been telling and to not listen to us "delulu" AA fans. And the threads were locked by a mod and cleaned up, to "prevent bullying". I think Larian sees clearly who is focused on quality of roleplay and who is focused on arbitrary arguments.
Because the evil endings aren't supposed to be satisfying to those who don't play them. They aren't supposed to be a moral lesson to the player. It's not that meta (no matter how some people want it to be). It's not that type of game. The evil endings are supposed to be satisfying for those who enjoy playing those endings.
It's supposed to be a different experience. Empty and lonely, sure! But it's still meant to be rewarding for the player. Otherwise, it would be pointless to offer as a roleplay style.
I don't think Larian anticipated so many of us would prefer playing evil like this. I think the idea was for it to be a thing you do after you get bored of playing a few good solo runs. It also doesn't make any sense to spend time and money on an ending, just to slap the player on the wrist for choosing it. They see from the stats how often people make certain choices. People play evil in this game for a lot of reasons, but one big one is because it's just good, devious fun! And without any actual, real world consequences. And I think they see that more than anything. I assume you're also talking about the new evil ending updates?
This phrasing from the first article I saw about it is promising to me that these updates will be satisfying for those who actually enjoy playing/romancing evil--as a positive dark romance and not as some abusive romantic tragedy.
Tumblr media
I hope "satisfying narrative conclusions" means that the player can enjoy it for their roleplay. And doesn't just mean the endings are rounded out, but the player gets "punished" in the end. I mean, what are you being punished for exactly? Having fun? SERIOUSLY. Any anti-AA fans lurking the tag care to explain exactly WHY you want people to be punished for playing evil in a video game? I really don't get that. And I don't think Larian cares to do that to their consumers.
Truthfully... I'm hoping the new evil ending fixes will fix Minthara's bugs for one thing. But I also am hoping that it will give us some good AA content. I don't even want to speculate... I'm just gonna wait and see!
AND YES. The infantilization of Astarion and the whole concept of "oh what a cute helpless silly lil bby gorl who needs saving from himself, must be protected and shown who he should be because my Tav/Durge knows best for someone they barely know who's a different creature from them entirely" is...just...
Tumblr media
They want a mix of Wyll and Gale but with Astarion's face, voice, and body.
34 notes · View notes
foreveralwaysanauthor · 7 months ago
Text
Same Trailer, Different Park
(Season 1, Episode 2 - Shopaholics Not-So-Anonymous)
June 7, 2024
Tumblr media
Notes - Happy birthday, Dr. Eleanor Jubb!!! You have no idea how insanely proud and happy I am for you! I hope that, now that you're able to take time for yourself, that you have a fun birthday; you deserve it! I'm so glad I was able to be a small part of your journey and got to support you on your way to becoming a dentist. You're an incredible human being and I'm so incredibly happy for you! Just know that I adore you and wish you all the best! Happy birthday, El! Here's to another wonderful trip around the sun! 🥳🎂🦷💕
Tumblr media
Thin, cotton sheets rustled against the mattress as Vivien kicked the covers off for the umpteenth time since she initially laid down hours ago. Despite spending enough time working on setting up her room that Bentley had fallen asleep on the floor with his head on her suitcase, Vivien had yet to fall asleep. Kept awake by her thoughts as well as her anticipation for the next morning, she had found herself tossing and turning so much that she worried the creaking of the old, wooden bed frame would wake Royce in the room kitty-cornering hers.
The old bed had, according to Miles, been passed on to him not long after he had bought the house by a friend he worked with. Supposedly, the man had upgraded due to his girlfriend moving in, but now that she knew how noisy the frame was with every move and every breath she took, Vivien wondered if the guy had simply had enough of the noises it made and given the frame to Miles to rid himself of it. The mattress itself was comfortable - one of the few things Miles had brought with him from Butchy’s house to his own once he moved - but the creakiness of the wooden frame set Vivien’s nerves on edge. Her bed back home had a wooden frame that she and her grandfather had worked on together over spring break years prior, but even with the storage cubbies they had carved into it, the hardwood frame never once creaked and groaned like the one she was currently struggling to sleep on.
Vivien knew she should have been asleep hours ago, but with the bed groaning with every move and her excitement for the next day mingling together like shooting a cocktail of Red Bull, Monster, and 5-Hour Energy directly into her veins, sleep felt as though it was no longer an option. She was tired earlier in the evening, and rightfully so, but now, time had melted into nothingness, and she was wide awake. She could have sworn that when she said goodnight to her boyfriend and his brothers, she was practically teetering on the edge of dreamland. However, now that she had exhausted all efforts to fall asleep, she wondered if there was any hope of getting to sleep at all. The sheep had long since stopped jumping over the fence, she had tried and failed a deep breathing technique that had worked for her in the past, and the ASMR videos she had saved to her phone’s camera roll had done nothing but keep her more alert than when theft had initially started. It was pointless.
After all the cleaning they had done - or rather, the hour and a half of cleaning they tried to do whilst also singing and dancing along to whatever songs came over the transistor radio they perched on the windowsill, followed by a pizza Miles made from a Chef Boyardee box kit that had Vivien enraptured for far longer than she cared to admit, and then another long stretch of shoving things to the far side of the room to deal with another time as the teens struggled to keep themselves from yawning - Vivien found herself wide awake, staring at the gently circling ceiling fan above her bed. 
It wasn’t fair. She could hear Bentley snoring even with their bedroom door mostly closed, and although she had no idea how Royce could sleep with Bentley’s chainsaw-like snoring across from him, she knew her boyfriend had long since fallen asleep, presumably still cradling the cat to his chest. From her experience that night alone, Vivien knew Binx liked to roam the house while his owners slept. The golden-eyed cat had spent at least an hour with her, curling into a ball beside her and purring contentedly as she ran her nails along his silky fur, but had left her side after giving her cheek a few gentle licks. Though she wasn’t sure how long the feline had been gone for, Vivien knew she missed him. His companionship was a welcome distraction, and his soft purrs had almost lulled her to sleep when he arose and left the room. She hadn’t seen him wander past her room yet, but given how long she had been tossing and turning to get comfortable with him gone, Vivien knew there was a possibility that he may have crept by without her knowing.
Glancing at the analog clock beside her bed, she rolled her eyes and allowed her head to drop against the pillow once more. Normally, being up past midnight was nothing to her. She had pulled so many all-nighters reading fanfiction, working on schoolwork, or rehearsing with Riven, Jade, and Erica that staying up late was second nature. However, this was no normal all-nighter. Regular all-nighters were filled with energy drinks, fun playlists, and cheesy smiles directed at her phone, not the mental gymnastics that came with her coming to terms with her emotions. On top of that, the knowledge that she would have to be up and somewhat alert for her shopping excursion with Carrie and Lela made Vivien wonder if she should have insisted on going to bed after Miles carried Bentley off to bed.
As far as she could recall, she hadn’t brought any melatonin with her on her trip - something she was deeply regretting at that moment despite knowing how her body would have reacted to the medicine - but as she pulled her headphones off and heard faint voices from somewhere in the house, she wondered if Miles was still awake as well. From what she remembered of his time staying at the Birch family’s cabin, it wouldn’t surprise her if he was. He was just as bad as she was. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he had anything in the house that she could take to force her body to get some rest. Taking a deep breath and sighing through her nose, Vivien glanced at the clock again and decided it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Grateful for the light her lamp provided, Vivien pushed herself to sit up on her bed once more, running a hand through her hair and tugging strands out from under the slightly oversized t-shirt Miles had loaned her for the night. Though she couldn’t be certain, Vivien felt as though the heat of her thick hair pressed against her neck instead of held back in a neat braid had contributed in some way to her lack of sleep. Vivien had always found it difficult to sleep with her hair down, but being in the warm Florida heat was certainly not helping matters. She was hot and sweaty, and her brain refused to shut off for the night, a perfect recipe for a zombie-like Vivien the following day. She had already tried tying it up in a half-hearted bun, but her worn-out elastic had chosen violence and snapped against her scalp, only adding to her mounting frustration.
Pushing herself to the edge of the bed, Vivien’s feet met the cool wood floorboards, and she stood slowly so as to not affect her blood pressure from the sudden shift in perspective. Grabbing her glasses from the nightstand and tucking her phone into the pocket of the gym shorts she had borrowed alongside the t-shirt she pulled from Miles’ closet, Vivien took in a breath and quietly left the room. Padding into the hallway and inching past the room Royce and Bentley shared, she slowly made her way down the stairs to the main floor of the house. Upon entering the living room, Vivien smiled as she spotted an old - or, in their world, new, she supposed - show her grandfather loved on the TV across from the couch. 
Miles appeared to be in his own little world as Hogan’s Heroes played before him, his hands occupied with a certain black furball who purred contentedly in his lap, but Vivien only felt mildly conflicted about interrupting them as she neared the back of the couch and leaned against the back. The old World War II period sitcom was based on a group of prisoners of war who were being kept in a Nazi camp, and Vivien had watched a few episodes here and there with her grandfather over the years, but she had no idea Miles was invested in the show as well. Maybe there would come a time when she could sit them both down and let them chat about the show. She knew her grandfather would love it; after all, he was a professional gabber, and she knew Miles was a great listener.
Smiling, she watched as the German Colonel Klink spoke with the lead character, his prisoner, Colonel Hogan, “Hogan, just because you’re wearing my uniform, doesn’t mean you’re me!”
As Hogan began replying, Vivien echoed the quote alongside the character and delighted in the surprised jump of Miles’ shoulders as she did, “Good. I was afraid this uniform might be contagious.”
Turning his attention to the younger girl as she climbed over the back of the couch to sit beside him, Miles asked, “What are you doing up, kiddo?”
“I could ask you the same thing, buddy boy,” Vivien shot back lazily as she ran her hand over Binx’s back. “It’s midnight-thirty.”
“Midnight-thirty?” Miles quoted with an amused grin. Shaking his head as the brunette beside him nodded, Miles draped an arm over the back of the couch behind Vivien and sighed, “If you must know, I usually go to bed around one on weekends since I don’t have work. Now, what are you doing up?”
“Can’t sleep,” Vivien shrugged. “My brain won’t turn off, and, even with the fan on, I’m too hot.”
“Well, aren’t you conceited,” Miles teased gently.
Vivien let out a tired snort, rolling her eyes halfheartedly as she breathed, “You know what I mean, moron.”
“I know. Would you like something to help you sleep?” Miles offered. “I don’t know if we have anything medicinal, but I’m pretty sure Mick keeps a box of tea somewhere in the kitchen cabinets.”
Brushing off the offer with a somewhat thoughtful shrug, Vivien eventually shook her head and slouched to the right, curling herself into Miles’ left side. “Can I just hang out with you for a while? I don’t want to be up in my room all alone with my thoughts right now.”
“That’s fine,” Miles allowed, bringing his arm around Vivien’s shoulders and waiting for her to make herself comfortable as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Just don’t stay up for too long. You have a busy day tomorrow and you should at least try to get some sleep.”
“Pft,” Vivien breathed as she brought her attention to the television set before them, “I’m not even tired.”
Miles chuckled sarcastically, “Sure you aren’t.”
Vivien rolled her eyes and grinned, relaxing into the couch cushions as the show continued. She was determined to at least finish the episode Miles was on, just to prove him wrong. Petty spite was something she could work with. Sure, she could claim that she wasn’t even remotely tired, but as she struggled to keep a yawn as silent as possible, Vivien wondered just how long it would take for Miles to admit defeat. Two episodes? Three? Whatever it was, Vivien was willing to fight for her victory over the eldest of her boyfriend’s siblings, regardless of how long it took. Besides, the show was too riveting.
As the credits began to roll and the clock ticked over to one o’clock, Miles glanced down at the girl whose head had slid from its perch on his shoulder to his chest and grinned smugly at her closed eyelids and soft breathing. She had gone silent halfway through their time on the couch, and if the pair of circle-frame glasses guarded by Binx’s paw as he observed the girl was anything to go by, she had been asleep for a while. Under his breath, Miles muttered, “So much for not being tired.” Glancing down at Binx, he asked, “She’s been out for a while, huh, Binx?”
The cat’s attention turned to Miles, and he blinked slowly up at his owner in silent agreement before he quietly jumped from the couch to the coffee table, giving Miles space to move if he chose to. Taking a deep breath, Miles pocketed Vivien’s glasses and slowly shifted on the couch, crossing Vivien’s arms over her chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and slipping an arm under her knees before carefully rising from the couch, lifting her with him. Glancing at the television, he sighed as he realized he would need to go back downstairs to turn it off, but as Vivien shifted, looping an arm around his neck with a nonsensical mumble, he realized he had more important things to worry about. 
Slowly making his way up the stairs so as not to wake Vivien or his brothers, Miles stepped into Vivien’s room and looked around at the glowing lights flitting around the room. He hadn’t recalled seeing her plug anything in apart from her phone, but he supposed it wouldn’t have been unusual. As he set Vivien down on the mattress, the bed creaking lightly at the new pressure, Binx jumped up with her, curling up on the girl’s spare pillow once she had settled on her side. Miles tugged the flat sheet over Vivien’s form and pulled the rest of the blankets to the foot of the bed before reaching up to the ceiling fan and tugging the string to set it up another level. With her curled up on her side, Miles took one of the elastics from Vivien’s toiletry bag on the nightstand and wove her hair into a hasty braid before securing it with the elastic and stepping away, leaving the girl to sleep as he set her glasses on the nightstand. Miles glanced around once more, the amount of light in the room making him wonder how Vivien slept at all with it, but as Binx softly meowed at him, encouraging him to leave the girl alone, Miles left, muttering a final goodnight to the girl before slipping out of the room to turn everything off downstairs. 
What felt like only moments after she had allowed her eyes to slide closed during their late-night Hogan’s Heroes watch party, Vivien’s eyes peeled open as she jolted upright, instantly upset with how easily she had lost her battle with sleep. Despite her frustration, she was somewhat grateful for the sleep she had gotten as she glanced at the clock beside her bed. Her usual wake-up time of 5 a.m. had forced her body awake like a defibrillator on some corny hospital drama, but with at least four hours in her system, Vivien felt as though she could take on the day once she had some caffeine in her. Giving Binx an apologetic scratch as he blinked up at her, Vivien pushed herself out of bed and pulled on her glasses, taking her hair out of a braid she didn’t recall making and turning off her lamp before making her way over to her suitcase to find something to wear for her morning walk.
Although she didn’t have much - and wouldn’t until the girls took her to the mall in a few hours - Lela had tossed in a swimsuit for her to wear if she decided to join Mick on her morning surf. It wasn’t much as far as options went, but Vivien had worn swimsuits as shirts over the summer before, so really, what was the harm? Tugging the one-piece on, she pulled the striped lavender shorts from the day before on over top of it and threw on her sneakers before grabbing her toiletries and creeping into the hallway. From the sound of things, the Murphys were sound asleep still, and Vivien hoped it would remain that way as she stepped into the bathroom. Despite not taking a shower the night before, Vivien didn’t bother trying to take one before her jog, instead settling on pulling her hair into a half-hearted bun and brushing her teeth before heading back to her room. After setting her bag down, grabbing her phone, wallet, and headphones, and giving herself a quick glance in the mirror, Vivien headed downstairs as quietly as possible. 
Crossing the gap between the stairs and the front door was easy, but as she realized there was a knife wedged into the door frame, the handle pressed firmly against the door as the blade disappeared into the wall beside it, she wondered why Miles would have done such a thing. Was deadbolting the door not enough protection for him? Tugging the knife out of its designated slot was no easy feat, but Vivien managed to do so after a bit of wiggling, placing the knife that was about as long as her forearm onto the table by the door where Miles’ and Royce’s keys had been set sometime during the afternoon. Glancing back at the door, she reached for the top deadbolt and realized that the locking dial simply spun in her hand, a free spin that did nothing to either lock or unlock the door. As the realization that the door dagger had been there for a reason, Vivien sighed and unlocked the door knob before pulling the door open and stepping outside.
Salty sea air filled Vivien’s lungs as she slowly closed the front door, locking the handle before pocketing her key. Looking up to the sky, she grinned. The sun had yet to begin rising over the horizon, the almost navy blue sky lightening the closer it got to sunrise. Slipping her phone from her pocket, Vivien jogged to the end of the street where Gulf Winds Drive met 64th Avenue, snapping a picture of the skyline before tucking an earbud into one ear and starting up the first song on her morning music playlist - a Kate Bush song she hoped never lost its popularity. It was odd, in a way, listening to eighties music whilst living in the sixties, but Vivien couldn’t bring herself to care.
Using her phone’s map, she placed a pin over the house she had left before making her way down 64th until it met Gulf Boulevard, looking up and down the street in search of places to explore. A lot had changed, if her map was anything to go by, but a few small restaurants and shops lined the main street, filling her with a sense of familiarity as she realized how similar it could be to her hometown. Following the sandy sidewalk to her left, Vivien looked around at the small shops, finding many of them closed due to the early hour. A small diner across the street with stereotypical stools and a checkerboard floor had just flipped their sign to open, their doors opening to a handful of bikers and truckers alike, all seemingly in search of breakfast before they hit the road in one way or another. 
A few doors down, on her side of the road, Vivien watched as a woman who had to have been in her late sixties struggled to slip an “OPEN” flag into its holster on the wall outside of her shop. Hastening her step, Vivien jogged up to the woman and tucked her earbud and phone into her pocket, calling out to the woman, “Would you like some help, Ma’am?”
The short woman turned, her dark eyes widening as she took in Vivien’s appearance. However, her surprise was short-lived as she lowered the flag and nodded, “Please.”
Taking the flag from the woman with a smile, Vivien raised the flag and slotted it into the hole, tightening the screws on either side of the pole to keep it in place. Taking a step back, Vivien eyed the flag as it waved in the wind before she nodded to herself, “That should hold it.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, her thick accent alerting something in Vivien’s mind as it faintly reminded her of the actors in West Side Story. Puerto Rican, maybe? “My husband would do it for me, but he broke his arm.”
“I’m so sorry,” Vivien breathed, offering the woman a sympathetic smile. “I guess it was good that I was in the right place at the right time.”
The woman’s eyebrow raised just enough for Vivien to notice before it disappeared, and she clasped her hands together, “I must apologize for interrupting your walk, young lady.”
“Oh no, no,” Vivien said with a wave of her hand, “it’s nothing. I’m just glad I could help.”
As though searching for something, the woman glanced around the relatively empty streets before stepping closer to Vivien and placing a hand on her arm, lowering her voice as she questioned, “Are you Cuban?”
Slowly shaking her head, Vivien answered, “No, ma’am. I’m just Native with a little bit of European mixed in.”
Placing a finger under Vivien’s chin, the woman shook her head with a fiercely determined look as she gently scolded, “Nobody is ‘just’ anything. Your heritage is just as rich as mine. I only ask because it is uncommon for whites to come near our bodega, and you, my love, look very white.”
Vivien chuckled, “I’m a lot darker in the summer.”
“Aren’t we all,” the woman chuckled. Patting Vivien’s cheek, the woman stepped back and offered Vivien a hand, “My name is Aletha, but most people around here call me Abue.”
“Vivien,” she introduced as she latched onto the woman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” Aletha greeted. Gesturing toward her store, she offered, “Come in. My Ernesto will make you something for breakfast.”
Looking up at the store’s name as the woman stepped inside, Vivien smiled, “You don’t need to do that. I’m sure anyone would have helped you.”
“And I would do it for them, too, but you are the one who stopped, no?” When Vivien resigned with a nod, Aletha grinned, “You stopped, so you deserve it. Now, come, we will make you something.”
Taking in a breath, Vivien nodded and followed the dark-haired woman inside, helping her prop open the door before taking the chance to look around as she called out for her husband. Though most of the signage was in Spanish, Vivien could understand some of what was written as she had managed to learn enough Spanish in school to get by in basic conversations. A few rows of groceries and typical convenience store merchandise lined the room from the register to the back wall. If Vivien’s Spanish was right, coolers containing milk, juice, eggs, and a few types of alcohol capped each aisle, and as Vivien peered into one containing juices with labels in Spanish too advanced for her to read, a man’s voice cut through the silence.
“¿Tenemos un cliente?” the man asked as he entered from the door behind the counter, hastily tying an apron around his waist. “¿Ya?”
Gesturing to Vivien, Aletha spoke, “Darling, this is Vivien. She helped me put up the flag. Make her whatever she wants.”
Looking up from the knot he tied around his stomach, the graying man’s eyes found Vivien, and his smile faltered slightly before he forced it back into place. Turning to his wife with a smile that Vivien could tell was strained, he asked, “¿Por qué les das cosas gratis cuando ya lo tienen todo?”
Stopping the man with a hand, Aletha spoke firmly, “¡Haz lo que te dicen!”
“¡Pero-!”
“Ernesto,” Aletha interrupted as she sent her husband a look, begging him to argue with her further. “Esta dulce chica no hizo nada malo. Nuestra gente y su gente son primos. Hazle algo para mí, por favor.”
Attempting to piece together what she could understand of the conversation, Vivien glanced between the two and softly spoke up, “Yo también hablo español.” As the man’s gaze landed back on her, the dark eyes behind his glasses widening as his native language left her mouth, Vivien explained, “Solo un poco, pero puedo entenderlo. I, uh, I can leave, if you’d like.”
“Ignore my husband,” Aletha attempted. “We deal with bad people a lot here. Mostly whites. Forgive him.”
“It’s alright,” Vivien offered with a smile. “Can I, um, could I maybe buy some stuff to make for breakfast before I go?”
Gesturing toward the aisles, Aletha nodded, offering the girl an apologetic smile, “Please.”
Slowly turning back to the shop, Vivien took in a breath and looked around a bit, taking her time looking around as she heard the couple begin arguing in hushed, quick voices. Her prior Spanish lessons went out the window as Ernesto got a verbal lashing from his wife, her words sharp and pointed as Vivien looked over their merchandise. As her arms filled with things she could use to make a nice breakfast for herself and the Murphys, Viven overheard Ernesto apologizing to his wife, but couldn’t make out anything after that as the heels of Aletha’s shoes clacked against the tiled floor whilst the woman left the vicinity. After allowing the older man some time to cool down, Vivien headed to the register and placed her items on the counter, offering Ernesto a small grin in the hopes that they would have a peaceful exchange.
Thankfully, the man didn’t seem too keen on chatting as he began punching in the price of her items and pushing them aside one by one. She offered to help him bag her items, but after he silently shook his head, Vivien stood on the opposite side of the counter with her hands folded in front of her, silently praying the interaction would be over soon so that she could leave without any further words from either of them. However, after giving her the total and accepting her money without much fuss, a pointed cough from behind the sandwich counter forced Ernesto to speak as he counted the girl’s change and handed it over.
Pushing the cash drawer back into the base of the register, the man hesitantly spoke, “Lo siento.”
“It’s alright,” Vivien brushed off, ready to simply grab her things and get out of the older man’s hair so that they both could go about their days in peace.
“No, no está bien,” Ernesto replied with a shake of his head. “You helped my Aletha. I was rude.”
Hoping to brush the whole matter aside, Vivien shrugged, “It’s water under the bridge.”
“White people don’t come often unless they want trouble,” Ernesto sighed, tucking the package of bacon against the side of the bag. “You look white like arena de playa.”
Vivien chuckled lightly, knowing just how pale she had gotten over the dreary winter they had gotten rammed with that year, “I’m from New Hampshire. Up there, it’s more snow than sunshine.”
Glad the girl seemed to take his comment lightly, Ernesto grinned, his mustache lifting as he spoke, “The sun will give you summer skin soon. Still, it is good to see light-skin people have good souls.”
“I think everyone has good in them somewhere,” Vivien claimed with a small smirk. “Some people just have a harder time finding it than others.”
Trying to make the girl before him understand where he was coming from, Ernesto gestured to the front windows of his shop, the rolling gate still covering the outside of the window despite the beautiful display hidden within. “White people came and painted the windows. Hard to trust people.”
Vivien eyed the window, smears of dark red and black streaking the glass. “Vandalism,” she breathed. Turning back to Ernesto as he placed the container of eggs on top of the items in her brown paper bag, she said, “Not every white person is so horrible.”
“I know,” Ernesto muttered, sliding the bag across the counter toward Vivien. “Sorry again.”
“Thank you,” Vivien said with a smile. “Maybe I can stop by another time and help get rid of the paint. I have some acetone that would probably do the trick.”
Stepping up beside the girl with a sandwich wrapped in parchment paper, Aletha said, “We appreciate the offer, but don’t go out of your way. We can manage just fine.”
“I know you can,” Vivien admitted with a grin, accepting the breakfast sandwich with a smile. “I just like helping people if I’m able to.”
“We’ll think on it,” Aletha smiled, cupping Vivien’s cheek with a hand. “Now, go. I’m sure you have better things to be doing this morning than listening to an old man ramble to his wife about the front page of the news paper.”
“Mira a quién llamas viejo,” Ernesto argued, taking a copy of the daily paper from the stack on the counter, folding it in thirds, and tapping the top of his wife’s head. “You’re older than me, mi vida.”
“But you look older, mi amor,” Aletha brushed off with a wave of her hand. Turning her attention back to Vivien, she said, “Go, sweet girl. Before he makes you listen to the headlines and traps you here all day.”
Chuckling at the older couple who, if Vivien thought more about it, sort of reminded her of another older couple she knew, she thanked them for the fresh produce she had bought and the sandwich she hadn’t asked for before heading back into the Florida heat, the sun’s rays just barely peering over the horizon, casting rays of gold and orange beaming through the shades of navy that filled the morning sky. Rearranging the paper bag so that the bottom rested on her left hip, Vivien checked her phone for the time before slipping it back into her pocket. Though she still wanted to explore the area, she knew that if she headed back to the Murphy house, she would have time to make something for breakfast without the boys - or, rather, Royce - interrupting her. With a grin, she adjusted her grasp on the bag and began her walk back to the house, already eager to get into the kitchen and begin cooking before Royce would get the chance to.
In the nearly six months they had known each other, Vivien came to love how similar she and Royce were. Both of them had a deep love for books, had two siblings they adored more than life itself, and both were early risers. Although Vivien loved their early-morning phone calls and video chats while Royce stayed with the Birch family, now that they shared a roof, she hoped he would stay in bed long enough for her to make everyone breakfast. She wasn’t entirely sure what the boys had in their pantry - if they kept much of anything other than cans of soup and vegetables in there in the first place - so she had bought a handful of things she knew she could make into something for them before they started their day.
The coffee she had bought was unlike anything she was used to - some type of Costa Rican coffee in a glass jar that only had Spanish instructions on the back - but she was determined to try, at the very least. Miles would probably drain most of it, if given the chance, but Vivien didn’t really care; it would be worth every penny even if he did. With any luck, she’d have a cup for herself before he made his way downstairs to demolish whatever was left. Bentley and Royce, to her knowledge, weren’t big fans of coffee, so the majority of the coffee would be used up by herself and Miles, but hopefully, the boys would enjoy the juices she had picked out for them in place of the coffee they would miss out on.
Turning onto 64th Avenue, Vivien began to think of recipes she could whip up - omelets, quiches, maybe even her grandpa’s famous cheese and bacon strata cake! The list of possibilities, while not entirely endless as she only had enough ingredients for so much, was long. Although she was somewhat tempted to go all out and make her Grandpa George’s strata cake, she knew that she didn’t have nearly enough time to do all of the preparations, let alone cooking, before Royce would be downstairs. 
As she neared the end of Gulf Winds Boulevard and checked the time once more, Vivien settled on French toast - something relatively quick that she knew the boys liked. The vanilla ice cream she had purchased in the hopes of making root beer floats that night with her hosts would, most likely, be melted enough by the time she got to their house that she could use that instead of hoping the boys had enough flour, sugar, salt, and milk for her usual recipe. All she would need to use from their house would be butter, something she hoped they would have enough of. She would replace what she used, of course, but that was the only thing she hadn’t picked up on her little shopping trip.
Taking a deep breath as the Murphy house came into view, Vivien hoped they were all still sleeping - or, at the very least, that they were all still in their rooms. At home, she liked to listen to music or sing to herself while she cooked, as she knew her parents and siblings couldn’t hear her. However, with the relatively open floorplan the Murphy’s home had, Vivien didn’t particularly feel like forcing them to listen to her singing like a beached whale at barely six in the morning. The only audiences she didn’t mind having while she cooked were her grandparents, their dog, Ding, and her own dog, Loki - the latter two being walking trash compactors who would eat anything and everything offered to them, regardless of how charred it was, and had no regard for her terrible singing.
Although she adored Roye and knew he cared about her too, she felt as though she was at a total disadvantage when it came to singing around him. He was from a world literally fueled by music, people singing to pass the time or tell their story, whereas she came from a world where people only sang publicly if they thought they had a chance to become the next viral something or other. In a way, she hoped he would never have to hear her sing apart from the select few times she sang in the car on long rides, but she knew the inevitable would happen sooner or later during her stay. Mick had warned her in passing that singing was damn near unavoidable no matter how hard one tried, but that wasn’t going to stop Vivien from trying as much as physically possible to avoid breaking into a spontaneous song or dance.
Shifting the bag onto her hip once again as she reached the front door, the peeling paint leaving chips of red on her shorts as she leaned against the door, Vivien pulled her key from her pocket and slipped it into the lock. Setting the bag down on the table by the door, Vivien fought the inanimate object for her key for a moment before yanking it free and shoving it into her pocket once more with a huff. Once the door was closed and the handle was locked, Vivien picked up the bag and made her way to the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter and pulling things from within. Once everything was laid out before her, Vivien put the ice cream in the sink to continue melting, took the loaf of day-old bread over to the counter, and began shoving the rest of her purchase wherever she thought it belonged.
After struggling to open the borderline-antique General Electric refrigerator, Vivien tossed the package of bacon into the meat drawer, took out the container of butter, and closed the metal beast with the hope that she wouldn’t have to open it again any time soon. Of all the things she had heard Miles ramble about needing to repair or replace over time, how the refrigerator hadn’t made the list was beyond her. After putting the rest of the items away in some place or another, Vivien began looking for the cooking utensils. Unlike the oven back home, the drawer underneath the Chambers brand Model C stove and oven was nonexistent. The stovetop was somewhat similar to the one she was used to cooking on back home apart from the griddle-slash-broiler on the left-hand side, and the oven took up a very small portion of the appliance, but the only storage cubby had a large metal pot and nothing else.
With a huff of mild frustration, Vivien turned on the oven to preheat it before looking around at all of the cupboards she would have to scour through in order to find anything to cook with. With how scatterbrained Miles tended to be, it would be a miracle if anything was in a somewhat normal place. She tried the cupboards on either side of the oven, to no avail - the right side holding a bunch of household tools she assumed Miles used around the house for minor repairs while the left was host to a tower of teetering Tupperware that leaned precariously toward the door which she quickly shut. Straightening up once again, she tried looking above the stove in the hopes that one of the cabinets would have something she could work with.
Soft taps on the tiled floor drew Vivien’s attention to a particular feline as he entered the room, hopped onto one of the stools from the floor, and sauntered his way across the counter to where she had left the paper bag. Reaching out a hand to pet the cat as he sniffed at the brown bag, Vivien sighed, “Morning, Binx.” In return, the cat purred, nuzzling her hand contentedly. With a slight grin, Vivien looked around at the cabinets and joked, “I don’t suppose you know where the boys keep their pots and pans, do you?”
After receiving his fill of attention, Binx hopped down from the counter and padded over to the counter on the wall where the sink was, pawing at the leftmost door below the countertop where the drying rack resided. Eyeing the cat with a raised brow, Vivien followed him over to the counter and crouched before it, allowing the black cat to wander a few steps away before pulling the door open. Much to her surprise, a haphazard stack of pots was braced against the back wall, a slanted array of pans pressed between the pots and the cabinet door. 
Turning to Binx as she slowly pulled out a few pans, Vivien breathed a soft, “Thanks.” As though the cat had understood her, Binx slowly blinked, nodding at the brunette before lifting a paw to his mouth and licking it. Setting her selection of pans on the counter by the sink, Vivien pushed herself to her full height and closed the cabinet door before glancing back down at the cat and chuckling, “Any idea where they keep the bowls?”
As the housecat peered up at her, his golden eyes sparkling in the light overhead, Vivien smiled and went back to her search. Looking through some of the overhead cabinets with no luck, she listened as Binx wandered off, presumably heading to the boys’ room to beg for breakfast. If she knew where his food was, she would have given him some, but given her lack of luck finding the bowls and silverware, Vivien didn’t particularly feel like tearing the room apart in search of Binx’s food.
Turning her attention back toward the stove in the hopes of finding something there, Vivien froze as she realized Binx had yet to leave the room. Instead, he sat on the counter to the right of the stove, watching her like a silent judge. With a ghost of a grin, Vivien ran a hand along the cat’s fur and said, “You know, it’s times like this that I think it might be a good thing that cats can’t talk. Your eyes do all the judging your mouth can’t.”
Meowing loudly, Binx moved from under Vivien’s hand and made sure she was watching him before stretching up toward one of the upper cabinets, kneading the door with his claws briefly. Settling on the counter once more, he blinked up at Vivien and batted her hand with his paw, a silent encouragement for her to open the door. Glancing up at the door, Vivien swore she had already looked through it, but found herself reaching up all the same. Before she took the handle, she pointed at it, looked down at the cat, and asked, “This one?”
Binx slowly blinked - a yes, if Vivien had to guess. 
Taking in the fact that she was taking instructions from a cat - of all things - Vivien latched onto the handle of the cabinet and pulled it open, lifting her gaze from the cat before her as the door swung open. Emerald eyes widened behind round glasses as Vivien realized, for the second time that morning, that Binx had understood her enough to show her where things were in the house. Mentally wishing she could have taught her perpetually lazy pup the same thing, Vivien hesitantly took a few bowls down and closed the cabinet before turning to Binx again.
Swallowing the last shreds of her common sense, Vivien asked the cat, “What about the silverware?”
In response, Binx’s golden irises flickered over to the sink where the dishes Miles and Royce had scrambled to clean the night before were still sitting in the drying rack. Venturing back over to the sink, Vivien waited for Binx to hop onto the counter and lean over the edge, his eyes pointedly staring at a drawer with half a handle still connected to the wood. Tugging the drawer open, Vivien pulled a fork, a pair of tongs, and an ice cream scooper from the tray within before smiling at Binx. The cat, seemingly indifferent, merely stared up at her, soft purring betraying his aloof stare as Vivien allowed her nails to comb through Binx’s silky fur.
“Are you sure you’re not a talking cat or something?” Vivien wondered aloud as Binx nuzzled into her hand.
“Pretty sure.”
Jumping back from the cat at the sudden voice, Vivien nearly dropped the utensils in her hands, shaky hands clamoring to snatch the tongs from midair before they could clatter to the floor. Once she was sure she had a solid grip on everything apart from her sanity, Vivien whirled around, hoping that someone else had simply ventured into the room without her knowing. Seeing her boyfriend standing in the doorway in his pajamas with an amused grin and a knowing gleam in his chocolate eyes, Vivien let out a huff and placed a hand over her chest to calm herself.
“You scared the shit out of me,” she breathed, glaring halfheartedly at Royce as he stepped into the room.
Royce chuckled, pulling open the fridge with far more ease than Vivien had and filling a small bowl with water from a pitcher they kept on one of the shelves, “I guess I could say the same to you.”
Curious as she set her utensils on the counter and pulled the ice cream out of the sink, Vivien watched Royce place the bowl of water on a towel on the floor as she asked, “How would I have scared you? I didn’t even know you were up.”
As he pulled a can of cat food down from a cupboard, Royce admitted, “I usually get up around six to start making breakfast, but when I went by your room to see if you wanted to join me, you weren’t there. You also weren’t in the bathroom, but when I checked the living room, you weren’t there either, so I was starting to get worried when I heard you talking to Binx.”
Watching Binx as Royce opened the cat food and placed some in a small ceramic bowl covered in little cartoon fish, Vivien claimed, “He’s a smart cat. He was helping me find stuff to cook with.”
“I think he’s memorized where everything is just so that he can tell us that he wants food.” Glancing at Vivien as he moved to put the food down for Binx, Royce thought for a moment about her words, distracted only by Binx’s meow telling him to put his food on the floor before he got claws to the wrist. Setting the food down, Royce returned to Vivien’s side and brought his arms around her middle, watching her shovel vanilla ice cream into a bowl from over her shoulder as he said, “You know, if you were hungry, you could have come to me. I would have made something, so you didn’t have to go through all this hassle.”
“I know you would have,” Vivien said with a smile, “but I wanted to make something to thank you guys for letting me stay here.”
Stepping away from Vivien and taking the second pint of ice cream from the sink before she could reach for it, Royce spoke softly, “You don’t have to do that. We want you to be here.” As Vivien watched him scoop ice cream into the bowl, Royce turned to her with a small smile and said, “Besides, you’re not just our guest, you’re my girlfriend. I don’t want you to feel like you owe us anything for staying here.”
“I know,” Vivien said before licking some melted ice cream from the back of her hand. “I just wanted to surprise you guys.”
Scraping the inside of the container with the spoon, Royce raised an eyebrow and asked, “What were you trying to make, anyway?”
“French toast,” Vivien admitted. “I was hoping to at least get some of it done before you came down, but I had a hard time finding anything to cook with.”
“Yeah,” Royce sighed, reluctant to admit just how poorly stocked their food supply always seemed to be. “We haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while.”
“I meant the cookware,” Vivien said as she took the bowl from Royce, watching him toss the empty container into the trash at the end of the counter. “I don’t know how you guys find anything. I mean, I get the silverware drawer being by the sink - that’s the way it is at our house, too - but the pots and pans being on the other side of the kitchen, away from the stove? That’s a decision that should send someone to an asylum.”
Raising his arms in surrender, Royce chuckled, “Don’t blame me. That was all Bentley.”
“And you let him?” Vivien pressed with a laugh. “Mister organized let his baby brother wreak havoc on the kitchen?”
“I didn’t exactly get much say,” Royce admitted. “I was busy helping Miles with his Jeep when all this happened.”
Hoping that, sooner or later, she would be able to help Miles with fixing up the rolling rust bucket that sat in the garage, Vivien sighed and shook her head, “You know, I’m half tempted to buy him a new Jeep so he doesn’t have to deal with that cruddy old thing.”
Royce chuckled, shaking his head, “He won’t let you do that.”
“I know, but the thought is there,” Vivien shrugged. Smoothing out the ice cream with a spoon, she asked, “Could you grab the bread for me?”
With a soft hum, Royce turned, taking the loaf of bread from the counter, pulling the twist-tie off, and pocketing the yellow tie before setting the bag of bread close to Vivien and asking, “Anything else?”
Pulling a slice of bread from the bag and placing it in the ice cream, Vivien glanced over at Royce, drinking in his gentle expression and half-asleep appearance with a smile as she asked, “Would you mind buttering a skillet for me? And, uh, could you put it over medium heat too?”
Royce nodded with a smile, maneuvering around the kitchen with practiced ease as Vivien gingerly carried the bowl of vanilla ice cream and the bag of bread to the countertop closest to the stove. As he watched Vivien slather the bread in ice cream, Royce placed the skillet on the stove and turned it on before taking the twist tie out of his pocket with a grin. Vivien placed the first slice of bread on the skillet with a smile, her fingers sticky with ice cream as she reached for another slice of bread and began humming softly to herself as she slathered a fresh slice of bread in ice cream. 
Stepping up to Vivien’s left with a small smile, Royce took a paper towel from the roll on the counter and asked, “Can I see your hand for a second?”
Glancing over at her boyfriend curiously, Vivien asked, “Huh?” Connecting the dots as he held a hand out to her, Vivien quickly said, “Oh, yeah, sure. Here,” and held out her hand before turning back to the breakfast she had begun cooking.
Taking Vivien’s wrist and attempting to ignore the slight electric tingle running up his arm as his fingers twisted her hand palm-up, Royce wiped the melted streaks of white from her fingers before flipping her hand back up and sliding the bread tie around her finger. Twisting the ends together in a sort of lopsided heart against the top of his girlfriend’s ring finger, Royce grinned proudly and said, “There.”
Tearing her gaze away from the pan as she flipped the first piece of bread and placed the second in it, Vivien peered down at the hand Royce still held, examining the bread tie ring with a confused grin. “Cute,” she chuckled. “What made you think of that?”
Royce shrugged, “I can’t exactly give you my class ring or a letterman sweater since I don’t have one, and I can’t afford a fancy promise ring, so I figured this would be the next best thing.”
Vivien smiled, albeit with a hint of trepidation, as she slowly asked, “I’m sorry, but what exactly are promise rings?”
“You don’t have them in your world?” Royce asked in return, confusion lacing his words as he watched Vivien shake her head. “W-Well, I guess, for most people, it’s sort of like a way for a couple to show that they’re serious about each other.”
Raising a brow, Vivien wondered, “I thought we were serious about each other already. Are we… were you not serious about us?”
“What?” Royce breathed, finding hurt in Vivien’s eyes as he watched her scrutinize him. Realizing what his words had implied, he quickly shook his head, eyes widening as he exclaimed, “No! No, I am, I promise!”
Smiling at how easy it was to get Royce scrambling, she squeezed his fingers in her grasp and asked, “Then what does this mean to you?”
“I don’t know, really,” Royce breathed, examining the makeshift ring as he brushed his thumb over it. “It just felt right.”
Examining Royce’s expression as he traced the ring with his finger, Vivien grinned and lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to Royce’s knuckles and whispering against his skin, “Thank you.”
Fighting to ignore the surge of goosebumps that rushed up his arms, Royce smiled - a captivating grin that Vivien loved every time it appeared. Whilst Royce had admitted to her that he was never really fond of the way his smile stretched the thin scar on his upper lip into a white line, Vivien found it all the more appealing and had told him as such more than once. Pulling her hand to his lips, Royce reciprocated her earlier kiss by pressing one to the back of her hand before saying, “You’re welcome.”
Taking in a deep breath, Vivien tried to think of something, anything, to say in response, but found herself quickly distracted by the food as the smell of French toast wafted through the air. Whipping around to the stove, Vivien quickly scrambled to flip one slice and take the other off of the heat, wincing at the blackened state it was in. Royce grabbed a plate from the cabinet and handed it to Vivien, matching her expression as she set the first slice on the plate.
“Great,” she breathed, making a mental note to add the charred slice of bread to her plate later on.
Hoping to make light of the situation, Royce grinned, “At least the house smells good.”
“Yeah,” Vivien sighed, setting the plate aside as she grabbed a fresh slice of bread and coated it in ice cream. As Royce took the plate from her other hand, Vivien said, “You can just put that aside. I’ll have that one.”
Eyeing the burned bread with a raised brow, Royce slowly spoke, “But it’s burnt.”
“Only on one side,” Vivien said as she placed the bread in the skillet. “I can scrape that off and it’ll be fine.”
Though he still felt the need to chuck the piece of bread into the trash, Royce set the plate down and resigned himself to helping his girlfriend with breakfast as she handed him the tongs and began coating another slice of bread. After making sure they had enough for everyone, Royce turned off the stove and helped Vivien place the French toast on a baking sheet before stepping away to start making coffee for Miles. Vivien put the breakfast in the oven to keep it warm before asking Royce if he knew how to make the Costa Rican coffee she had placed on one of the counters. Once the percolator was on the stove and coffee had begun brewing, Royce and Vivien sat down at the table with some spoons and the bowl of leftover ice cream to discuss all she had done that morning.
Their peaceful morning was soon interrupted, though, as the smell of warm breakfast filled the house. Bentley stumbled his way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a loud yawn as he reached the kitchen, looking around for whatever smell had lured him out of bed. Spotting his brother and close friend at the table, he muttered, “Morning.”
The pair replied in kind before Vivien teased, “Do you always look like you stuck a finger into an electric socket when you get up in the morning?”
Still half asleep as he wandered through the kitchen in search of food, Bentley grumbled, “Ask your boyfriend; he looks like this every day.”
Mildly bewildered at how easily he had been thrown into the conversation, Royce asked, “What did I do to you?”
Opening the fridge to look inside, Bentley huffed, “Well, you’re hiding my breakfast, for one.”
“It’s not hidden,” Royce chuckled, watching with a grin as his baby brother turned toward him and gestured to the kitchen with disbelieving eyes.
“Where is it, then?”
“It’s in the oven until Miles gets up,” Vivien said with a smirk. “I suggest that, if you want something to eat, you go wake him up.”
Bentley groaned, dragging himself across the room and dropping into a chair as he groaned, “That’ll take forever.”
Vivien watched with amusement evident in her eyes as Bentley folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them with an exaggerated sigh. Smirking, Royce placed a hand on Bentley’s head, ruffling his brother’s hair as he said, “You know, you could always bribe him with coffee. That usually works.”
“But all he’s got is that stuff from the gas station,” Bentley muttered into his arms. After letting out a yawn, he lifted his head slightly and sighed, “From the sound of it, it tasted like mud yesterday.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I bought some coffee while I was out, then,” Vivien said with a grin, watching as Bentley’s attention latched onto her.
The blond’s sleep-riddled brain took a while to piece together Vivien’s statement, but as realization filled his baby-blue eyes, Bentley found himself confused. “You didn’t get coffee when we were out last night.”
“No,” Vivien agreed with a shake of her head. “I bought it this morning at this cute little bodega while I was on my morning walk.”
“You’ve been out already?” Bentley asked, exhaustion lingering in his bones. When Vivien nodded, Bentley made a face and turned to Royce, “I was right; you two really are made for each other.”
Though Vivien seemed curious as to what Bentley meant, Royce was quick to backtrack as he fought the urge to slap a hand over his brother’s mouth, “Anyway, I just started making the coffee Viv got, so if you want breakfast, go harass him. Maybe he’ll get out of bed if he knows he’s got good coffee waiting.”
“‘M too tired, RJ,” Bentley yawned, closing his eyes and resting his chin on his palm as he struggled to keep himself awake. “Can’t you go wake him?”
Meeting his girlfriend’s haze from across the table, Royce rolled his eyes with a smile that Vivien seemed to share before shrugging and pushing his chair back from the table. “Just this once,” Royce sighed as he stood, pushing his chair back in and placing a hand on Bentley’s back as he rounded the table.
“You said that last time,” Bentley muttered with a tired grin, his eyes just barely open as he watched Royce head toward the hallway, Binx trotting along behind him.
Sparing a last glance at his baby brother, Royce said, “And one of these days, I’ll mean it. Now, why don’t you get the plates and silverware out while I get him.”
“Fine,” Bentley groaned dramatically, nudging his chair away from the table as Royce smirked and headed toward the stairs. Once he was sure his brother was out of earshot, a knowing smirk tugged at Bentley’s lips as he turned his attention back onto Vivien. “So,” he began with a drawl, “you two spent the morning together, huh?”
“Not really,” Vivien shrugged. “I went out for a walk on my own, helped a lady put up a flag, did some shopping, and came back. Royce heard me making breakfast and decided to help.”
Despite the hint of skepticism in Bentley’s eyes, the blond brushed off her claim and said, “You know, I meant what I said. You two are perfect for each other.”
“We are, are we?” Vivien asked with a grin, watching Bentley stand and drag himself away from the table.
He hummed as he began pulling plates from the cabinet, “You two both wake up at the crack of dawn like a couple of freaks.”
Vivien snorted, rising from her seat to grab silverware as Bentley set the array of mismatched plates in a stack on the counter, “And that means we’re good for each other?”
“It’s one of the ways, yeah,” Bentley nodded. Thinking for a moment, Bentley slowly asked, “You remember when we met you on Halloween, like, forever ago?”
Intrigued yet amused, Vivien nodded, “It’s only been six months, but yeah, why?”
“That’s when I knew you two would be together,” the blond admitted.
Vivien raised an eyebrow, “Right off the bat like that?”
“Mhm.”
“How?”
Leaning against the counter, Bentley ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “He kept smiling at his hand like an idiot. Even when we got back to the cabin and he got the chance to send you a message, he would not stop looking at your handwriting like it was a first-edition copy of some fancy book or something.”
“He was that bad?” Vivien snickered. She knew for a fact she hadn’t been any better, but the thought of Royce, her sweet, usually composed boyfriend, being so eager to strike up a conversation without romance being on the table at the time, sent warmth fluttering across her cheeks as giddiness settled in her ribcage.
“Worse,” Bentley scoffed. “When we got home and he had no way of talking to you, it was far worse since you were all he wanted to talk about. That was when I figured that, if Royce had any say in it, you two would be together sooner or later.”
An adoring smile tugged at Vivien’s lips as she helped Bentley set the table, memories of that Halloween night flitting across her mind as she breathed, “You know, if it weren’t for Riven, I never would have said anything to Royce.”
“Riven?” Bentley echoed thoughtfully. “That’s the guy that you skate with, right? The tall one who started the karaoke thing at your Christmas party?”
“That’s the one,” Vivien chuckled. “When we were handing out cookies and stuff, Riven kept teasing me for staring at Royce while you were trick-or-treating. He tried encouraging me to talk to him or ask him out, but I was too nervous to do anything.”
Curious, Bentley sat in his usual chair and asked, “If you were too scared, how did he convince you to give Royce your number?”
“You guys had started walking away, and Riven came up to me and asked if I was - oh, how did he say it?” Vivien thought for a moment, thinking back on that night and attempting to recall her best friend’s statement. After a while, she chuckled and confessed, “He, uh, he asked if I was going to grow some balls or if he was going to have to ask Royce out for me.”
Bentley let out a snort, “Y’know, I think Butchy and Miles were just shy of doing the same for Royce when you came over.”
“What did I do for Royce?” a deep, groggy voice mumbled from the archway of the kitchen. 
Turning toward the edge of the kitchen with a lopsided grin that reminded Vivien of her partner in crime back home, Bentley chirped, “We were just talking about how you had to help RJ give Binx a bath last week after the ice cream incident.”
With an exhausted face and a heaved sigh, Miles glared at the black furball in Royce’s arms and huffed, “Little demon cat.”
Reaching up to pet the cat as Royce passed and smiling as Binx leaned into her nails with a gentle purr, Vivien peered over at Miles and teased, “He’s just a baby, Miles.”
Fixing his tired cerulean eyes on Vivien, Miles pointed at the cat and emphasized each word as he repeated, “Little. Demon. Cat.”
Royce grinned, “Miles is just upset that Binx wouldn’t sit still while we washed him.”
Grabbing his mug from the counter and pouring himself a cup of coffee with a yawn, Miles shook his head, “No, Miles is upset he was turned into a human pincushion, but Royce got to snuggle his little demon spawn while Binx was all snuggled up in Miles’ towel.”
“Since when does Miles speak in the third person?” Vivien wondered with a smirk as Royce sat down and allowed Binx to wander the kitchen. “’Cause Vivien thinks it’s kinda weird.”
Without turning to look at the girl, Miles set the percolator back on the stove and turned the burner off before raising a hand and flipping her the bird as he sipped his coffee. Stopping to take a breath, Miles stared into his cup of coffee as the flavor finally settled on his tongue. The bitterness of any black coffee would typically make him wince, but the soft, smooth taste of the coffee had taken him by surprise - a pleasant wake-up call in comparison to the harsh slap in the face his gas station coffee had been the last couple of days. Since he had bought it after a long work day without so much as looking at the label, Miles’ tongue had been violently assaulted by the sheer nastiness that was his first cup of coffee that morning. 
It was his own damn fault, sure, but he had given it the benefit of the doubt, hoping he hadn’t wasted his money on nasty coffee. However, after taking some to work in the hopes of trying it in the new coffee maker his boss had put in the waiting room for customers, Miles found himself out of luck. The coffee was disgusting no matter how you made it, and, to his dismay, he discovered that no amount of cream, milk, sugar, or flavoring shots could rid him of the motor oil that clung to his taste buds all day afterward. 
Staring into the dark liquid, Miles began to wonder who had gotten the disastrous coffee to taste so good. Slowly turning as he made his way to the fridge, Miles asked, “Which one of you made my coffee?”
“Royce did,” Vivien claimed as Royce lifted a hand.
“But Viv helped make it taste good,” Royce tacked on. 
Glancing warily between the girl and his coffee, Miles slowly asked, “The hell did you do to it?”
With a smirk, Vivien feigned innocence as she stood from the table and asked, “Whatever do you mean?”
Setting the mug down, Miles stared right through Vivien’s acting and said, “It tastes good. What did you do to make that sewer water taste good?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she fired as she neared the stove.
“I would,” Miles retorted blandly. “That’s why I asked.”
Vivien looked ready to continue stringing Miles along, but Bentley, eager to get some food into him, spoke up, “She bought you some good coffee this morning. Now, can we please have something to eat before I starve over here?”
Turning back to Vivien, Miles asked, “You bought coffee?”
“I did,” she nodded. “I hope it tastes alright.”
“It’s great, thank you,” Miles responded, his gratitude instinctual. However, he couldn’t contain the urge to ask, “How much was it? I’ll pay you back after.”
Vivien rolled her eyes, reaching for a mug to pour herself some of the coffee, “It’s not just for you, so no, you won’t.” Lowering her voice, Vivien muttered, “Right now, I have more money than I know what to do with, so how about we let it slide and you can spend your money on something else?”
Though Miles looked reluctant to back down, the firm kindness in Vivien’s eyes made it impossible for him to do anything more than softly ask, “You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Thank y-”
“You know what I’m positive about?” Bentley asked, cutting off Miles’ statement of gratitude from the other side of the room. “I’m positive that I’m starving over here.”
With a sigh and a not-so-subtle roll of his eyes, Miles turned back to his brothers with a tired grin, “And, thus, the drama queen of Murphy house has finally made an appearance. What do you want for breakfast? I think we still have some of those quiches Lela made the other day.”
“Actually,” Vivien began, drawing Miles’ attention back to herself, “I already made breakfast.”
“You did?” Miles asked, a wave of concern weaving through his chest as he wondered what on earth she could have used to make anything. There wasn’t much in the pantry, and the fridge had the bare-bones necessities he made sure were always in the house, but he was going to take the boys grocery shopping while Vivien was out with the girls so that they would have enough food in the house for everyone. Apart from the knock-off brand cereals in the pantry and the handful of toaster pastries Bentley liked that sat in a box on the counter; there wasn’t a lot in the house when it came to breakfast.
Vivien took a pair of oven mitts from a hook on the wall behind the stove and slid them on. Then, she opened the oven and pulled out the tray of French toast she and Royce had set inside to keep warm. Placing the tray on the unused burners of the stove, Vivien turned off the heat and set the mitts aside, gesturing to the food with a grin. “We made French toast.”
“We?” Miles echoed.
“Royce helped,” Vivien shrugged.
“Not really,” Royce chuckled as he grabbed a spatula from the utensil drawer and handed it to Vivien. “If anything, I think I was more of a distraction than anything.”
“A very welcome distraction,” Vivien said with a smile. Turning to the food before her, Vivien said, “Now, come on. I only have so much time to eat and chill with you guys before the girls get here.”
Not needing to be told twice, Bentley rose from his seat with his plate and crossed the room, nearly plowing Miles over in the process as he scurried to the stove and waited for Vivien to shovel food onto his plate. Once his brothers had food on their plates, Miles handed Vivien her own and waited for the boys to be seated before lowering his voice and asking, “How did you make all of this?”
Vivien shrugged as she set her own plate aside and began filling Miles’, “It’s just some vanilla ice cream and bread, Miles; it’s nothing spectacular.”
Miles thought for a moment, glancing at the refrigerator he knew was just barely cold enough to keep their milk stable before turning back to Vivien, “I’m pretty sure we didn’t have any ice cream, kiddo.”
“I bought the stuff this morning on my walk,” Vivien said with a grin. “There’s this adorable little shop on the next street over that’s run by this sweet, older, Cuban couple, and while I was checking it out, I figured I’d make breakfast to thank you guys for hosting me.”
Placing a hand on Vivien’s arm, Miles said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” Vivien retorted, handing Miles his plate with a smile. “Now, go finish making your coffee and then eat. I want to hear how terrible my cooking is this time.”
With a reluctant chuckle, Miles rolled his eyes, “First of all, that was one time, and I was sick, so nothing tasted good. Second, how are you still holding that over me? It was, like, a year ago.”
“What can I say? I’m petty,” Vivien grinned, taking her plate and heading back to the table as Miles grabbed the creamer from the fridge and poured some into his coffee. Using her fork to cut into the first slice of bread on her plate, Vivien asked the boys, “How is it?”
Although Royce took the time to swallow his food before telling her how much he enjoyed her cooking, Bentley had no qualms with holding a hand over his mouthful of French toast and mumbling, “So good!”
“Ben,” Miles gently reprimanded as he set his coffee and plate down and took his place at the table. 
“Sorry,” the blond muttered, too distracted with stabbing into the bread again to actually mean what he said.
With a heaved sigh, Miles turned to Vivien and said, “It must be good if Bentley’s too busy stuffing his face to bother putting maple syrup on anything.”
Vivien chuckled, watching as Bentley’s gaze slowly rose from his plate, locking quickly on the golden brown bottle of Vermont maple syrup. Snatching the bottle from the center of the table, Bentley popped open the cap and let a thick stream of syrup drench his plate, soaking every last crumb in the liquid before capping it and returning the bottle to its original position. Snorting as she watched Bentley practically inhale his food, Vivien shook her head and went back to eating, allowing a comfortable silence to fill the air.
By the time the food was gone from everyone else’s plates, Bentley was long since finished and had begun chatting with the others around the table, his plate still coated in a thick layer of syrup on the table before him while he used a laser pointer Mick had given him to play with Binx. Once the table was cleared of plates and the dishes had been unceremoniously tossed into the sink to be washed later on, Bentley all but dragged Vivien to the living room to introduce her to his favorite Sunday morning cartoons while Royce headed upstairs to get dressed and Miles worked on figuring out a grocery list. It didn’t take long for Royce to join them again, still half-heartedly carding his fingers through his tangled curls as he jogged down the stairs. Halfway through an episode of The Jetsons, with Royce rubbing circles into the back of her hand with his thumb and Bentley explaining the show’s main characters to her while a segment of commercials aired, Vivien jumped as a series of knocks rapped on the door.
Without allowing anyone to get up from their positions, the door swung open, Lela’s jet-black hair flowing like a drop of ink in water over her shoulder as she hip-checked the door from its heat-swollen frame. With a laugh she shared with Carrie as the pair entered the house, Lela beamed, “Hey, hey! Who’s ready to blow through our paychecks?”
Vivien chuckled, pushing herself from the couch with a grin, “Is that what I volunteered for?”
As Vivien rounded the couch, Lela sauntered over to meet her, wrapping the brunette in a hug and rocking her from side to side as she giggled, “It absolutely is.” Pulling back to hold Vivien by the arms as Carrie worked on shoving the door closed, Lela explained, “Carrie and I brought you some clothes to try on before we go, so that you don’t have to borrow some of Miles’ clothes and end up reeking like motor oil and gasoline all day.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Miles huffed as he left the kitchen, writing pad and pen still in hand.
Lela turned to him with a grin, “Good.”
Crossing over to meet her boyfriend and shifting the bag of clothes she carried into the crook of her elbow, Carrie smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist with a yawn, “Good morning to you, too.”
“Morning,” he muttered against her as his forehead came to rest against her shoulder.
Rolling his eyes from his spot on the couch, Royce scoffed, “Really? First thing in the morning?”
Turning to her boyfriend with a somewhat amused stare, Vivien retorted, “You say that like you weren’t just as clingy with me this morning while we made breakfast.”
Taking in a breath, Royce looked ready to argue, but as he met Vivien’s eyes, he deflated, sulking back into the couch as Bentley snickered, “Your girlfriend has bigger balls than you do, RJ.”
“Shut up.”
Vivien snorted, rolling her eyes as she turned back to Lela, “So, about those clothes?”
Practically shoving the half-asleep Miles away from her shoulder, Carrie held up the bag with a smile, “Right here.”
Converging in the middle of the living space, Carrie opened the bag and allowed Lela to dig into it and pull out a myriad of colored fabrics. “I pulled a few things from my closet and so did Carrie, so feel free to pick whatever. There isn’t much, but we thought you’d like to blend into the crowd a bit more. There are some pants for comfort’s sake, but since it’ll be in the eighties today, we picked out some shorts and skirts as well.”
“There’s also a ton of patterns and colors for you to play with,” Carrie added with a smile. “And I may or may not have thrown in some shoes for you, but I wasn’t sure if the sizes in your world are the same as they are here, so don’t worry if they don’t fit you.”
Peering into the bag with a smile and examining the array of material within, Vivien glanced between the two girls and giggled, “What am I supposed to do with all of this when we get back from shopping?”
Lela chuckled, “These are for you, silly. You get to keep them.”
“What? Why?” Vivien asked. “I can’t just take your clothes.”
“Consider it a gift,” Carrie said with a wave of her hand, brushing off Vivien’s concern with a comfortable smile. “Besides, we both have more clothes than we know what to do with. It makes sense that we’d pass some stuff down to the next girl in line.”
Though Vivien had, of course, borrowed clothes from family members before - and stolen a handful of clothing from her aunts and father over the years - she had never been given direct hand-me-downs before. Her only older cousins on her dad’s side of things were boys, and the only other girls around her age were younger, making it nearly impossible for her to receive anything second-hand. Feeling a surge of familial fondness spread through her chest as Lela all but shoved the bag into her grasp, Vivien grinned at the pair and breathed, “Thanks, guys.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Carrie chuckled, nudging the girl toward the stairs. “Just try to find something you like in there and we’ll wait down here.”
“Yeah, so get a move on,” Lela said with a wink. “The sooner you get dressed, the sooner we can go shopping.”
“Alright, alright,” Vivien laughed, hefting the bag onto her shoulder as she began jogging up the stairs, “I’m going!”
Once she was back in the room she now called her own, Vivien deposited the bag of clothes on the end of the bed and began pulling things out of it, tossing them into piles on her bed. Thankfully, the shoes were the last items in the bag, clunking to the floor in a heap as the bag tumbled off the end of the bed. Pushing the chunky go-go boots and heels so high she knew she’d break an ankle even trying to walk in them aside, Vivien grinned at the collection of sneakers and beach shoes Carrie had gifted her. Picking up a pair of shoes she felt would be comfortable roaming through stores all day, she froze as an envelope tumbled to the floorboards with a soft tap.
Picking up the envelope, Vivien flipped it over to find her name scrawled across the front in glittery ink, both of the dots above the I’s in her name turned into tiny hearts. Inside the envelope was a small, folded note alongside a thin necklace with a small, purple rose dangling from it and a pair of matching earrings. Unfolding the paper, Vivien smiled as she read Carrie’s swirling handwriting.
‘Vivi, I wasn’t sure if you have your ears pierced or not, but I wore these in an episode of Find Your Voice, and thought you’d like them, so I took them home with me. I hope you like them. xoxo, Carrie. PS, Miles told me that you don’t like accepting random gifts, but I won’t take no for an answer, so don’t even try giving it back to me!’
Resigning to her fate, Vivien set the envelope of jewelry on the bed and began attempting to find something in the pile of clothes that would match her new accessories. Although her outfit of choice had enough purple to make a purple people eater froth at the mouth, the brunette could bring herself to care. Vivien smiled at her reflection in the mirror, pulling her hair down from its elastic and slipping the tie around her wrist as she debated on whether or not leaving her hair down was a good idea. Choosing to ask the girls later, Vivien returned to the bed and grabbed the envelope, pulling out the jewelry and slipping them on.
Picking up the envelope and setting it on the nightstand, Vivien found herself glancing over her shoulder at the suitcase propped against the wall. Hadn’t her dad said something about Abby putting something in there while they were packing? Shrugging, Vivien decided she would clean up the mountain of clothes when she got back that afternoon and stepped over to the suitcase, kneeling on the floor in front of it. Pulling back the zipper, she pushed aside the clothes she had intended to give back to Lela and Carrie, her shower bag, and her bag of chunky crystals she had yet to put in her windowsill before pulling an envelope from the bottom of the plastic lining.
Her dad’s handwriting was usually anything but neat, but Vivien found herself smiling at the familiarity of it - reminded faintly of the one and only time she ever tried forging his signature to get out of detention when she was in seventh grade. Of course, with her dad being the junior-senior high school’s principal, she was screwed from the start as he would have had to approve of her release slip, but she never was one to think ahead when it came to things like that. Opening the envelope and pulling out a piece of construction paper folded to resemble a card, Vivien smiled at the hand-drawn cartoon dinosaurs on the front - a signature of Oliver’s presence, no doubt - and opened it, a smaller, yet thicker envelope thumping into her lap as they were released from their confines. 
Not wanting herself to be distracted by the new item, Vivien read through a small note from her dad - his well-wishes and love apparent as he told her to accept what they gave her and take loads of pictures for them - followed by short messages from her siblings - Oliver’s teasing remark telling her not to get pregnant on spring break starkly juxtaposed with Abby’s sweet message reminding her to take a break for once and telling her they loved her. Vivien found herself smirking at the differences between her siblings before setting the card aside, intent on setting it somewhere she could see it every day. Picking up the extra envelope, Vivien’s mouth fell open in shock as she found a stack of dollar bills inside. Tugging the cash from the plain white envelope and finding a sticky note placed atop the first bill, she let out a disbelieving breath - it was all hundreds!
Giving it a quick count, Vivien nearly dropped the money. There had to have been at least two grand in her hands. Vivien felt panic wash through her; she could have sworn she told her dad how much she had saved for the trip! What gave him the idea of giving her so much? Pulling the sticky note from the money, she read her dad’s quick note - “Your aunts and I have been setting money aside for your future escapades. Have fun in paradise, pumpkin, and don’t spend this all on crystals and dog toys! Loki has enough of those. We love you, baby girl. Always.” - and felt her eyes begin to burn. She hadn’t had the chance to swing by her aunts’ place before leaving, but as she took a deep breath to calm herself, Vivien felt almost grateful they claimed they were busy that night. If she had seen them before leaving and not thanked them, she would have felt so much worse. At least her phone call on the plane had consisted more of yawns and tired ramblings about activities she was looking forward to than anything meaningful.
Digging into the back pocket of her shorts, Vivien tugged out her phone and unlocked it before remembering exactly where - and, more importantly, when - she was. Even if she called her dad and her aunts to thank them for their overly expensive gift, the call wouldn’t go through. Not only were the phone numbers probably not in use yet, but even if they were, the only people in her immediate family tree who were even alive in the sixties were her grandparents, and they would only be around seven or eight - certainly not old enough to be accepting phone calls from some random girl claiming to be their granddaughter. Letting out a sigh, Vivien pocketed the phone once again and stood, setting the card and sticky note in the drawer of her nightstand and adding the money from her family to the already absurd amount of money in her wallet.
Now possessing far too much money than she knew what to do with, Vivien took a purse from the pile of items she now owned and shoved her phone, wallet, and blood pressure medication into it before securing her smartwatch around her wrist and leaving the room. Heading downstairs once more, Vivien smiled as Lela and Carrie turned to her with a question, “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Vivien replied. Turning her attention to the trio of brothers on the couch, Vivien asked, “What are you guys going to be doing today?”
“Grocery shopping,” Miles grumbled, letting out a yawn as he peered over the back of the couch at the young girl. “We should be done by two or three, if I can pry a couple certain someones away from the bookstore next to the Winn-Dixie.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roye claimed innocently despite the glimmer of anticipation in his caramel eyes.
“Mhm, sure,” Vivien drawled as she made her way behind the couch, wrapping her arms around Royce’s shoulders from behind. As he placed his hands over her arms and squeezed them in return, she lowered her voice and smiled, “I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun,” he replied.
“You too,” Vivien chuckled. “I just know it’ll be so hard to pry poor Bentley away from that darn produce aisle.”
The aforementioned blonde let out a sarcastic snort, “Yeah, about as hard as pulling teeth.”
Vivien smiled and, feeling somewhat more at ease now that she felt more welcomed by the girls she would be spending the day with, said a quick goodbye to the Murphy brothers before following Carrie and Lela outside. Tugging the door into the frame with a yank, Vivien turned to the girls and asked, “So, what now?”
“Now,” Carrie began, swinging her keys as she sauntered over to her car, “we go shopping.”
Raising an eyebrow, Vivien chuckled as she asked, “What happened to getting coffee?”
“We’ll get it at the mall,” Carrie shrugged as she slipped into the driver’s seat.
Looping her arm into Vivien’s and pulling the girl toward Carrie’s Mustang, Lela smiled, “The coffeeshop we usually go to is closed for a family vacation.”
“Those bitches,” Carrie huffed, taking her sunglasses from the visor and placing them on the bridge of her nose.
Laughing, Vivien climbed into the back seat and buckled herself in as Lela rounded the car, “How dare they take a vacation during spring break!”
“I know, right!” Carrie exclaimed, smiling at Vivien in the rearview mirror. “Anyway, they have this little coffee place in the food court that sells cookies and stuff, so I figured we could head there first and then shop around for a bit.”
“Sounds good to me,” Lela sighed as she settled into her seat, turning to Vivien with a grin.
“Yeah,” Vivien nodded, “sounds good.”
“Great!” Clapping her hands together, Carrie beamed, her brilliant smile nearly blinding as she turned the key in the ignition and began backing out onto the street. Nudging her glasses up the bridge of her nose, the blonde put the car into drive and pressed the gas pedal, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Lela was quick to turn on the radio, Wipe Out by The Surfaris blaring over the speakers as the car turned left onto Gulf Boulevard. Vivien found herself bopping along to the music as she looked out the side of the car, her hair whipping in the wind and her smile growing as she took in the downtown area of St. Pete Beach, simply excited to see more of the small city. As they flew through the city, turning onto Pinellas Bayway across the street from some ritzy hotel on the beach, Vivien smiled as she took in the palm-tree-lined streets, the warm, oceanic air filling her lungs as the sunlight warmed her skin. 
Maybe her dad was right; this place really was paradise.
After slowing down so that Carrie could pay the toll, they pulled onto the highway, picking up speed as they took to Route 275, The Beach Boys’ song Little Deuce Coupe playing over the whipping wind. The half-hour-long drive felt as though it flew by as Vivien drank in the view from the back seat, her eyes flitting between the other cars on the highway and the buildings they drove by. However, once they pulled onto the Howard Frankland Bridge, Vivien found herself enraptured by the glow of the sun on the rippling waters of Old Tampa Bay, pulling her phone out to snap a few quick pictures of the water and the other old-school cars on the bridge with them before tucking it in her purse again to admire the view.
All too soon, the ride was over, and Carrie had pulled into the parking lot for the Sunny Shore Shopping Plaza, rolling into a parking spot midway between the first-floor entrances of JCPenney and Saks Fifth Avenue. Climbing out of the convertible, Vivien looked around with an awestruck smile; the mall was on the larger side in comparison to most shopping areas back home, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. After all, she had somehow survived the Natick Mall - the largest in all of New England - with just a pair of very sore legs, and if the Sunny Shore Mall was anything like it, she could manage just fine so long as she had some pretzel bites and lemonade.
As Carrie sidled up beside her, Vivien beamed, “I have a feeling I’m going to like it here.”
The blonde chuckled, placing her sunglasses atop her head with a smile, “I knew you would.”
Placing her purse strap on her shoulder, Lela took Vivien’s hand and added, “Just wait until you see the inside. There’s a Woolworth’s, a Marshall Field’s, a few five-and-dime stores like Kresge’s, and even a few record shops.”
Allowing the older girls to pull her toward the JCPenney entrance of the shopping mall, Vivien smiled although she had only ever heard of one of the aforementioned stores. Feeling excitement bubbling in her chest as Lela jogged up to the door to pull it open for herself and Carrie, Vivien found it nearly impossible to wipe the smile from her face as she said, “I feel like I’m stepping into a Bright Sun Films YouTube video or something.”
“A YouTube video?” Carrie echoed. “What’s a YouTube?”
“It’s-” Vivien cut herself off, suddenly hit with the fact that YouTube didn’t exist in the sixties. “It’s a video platform where people share things like music and movies and stuff. Maybe I can show you on my phone later.”
“I’d like that,” Carrie smiled, taking Vivien’s arm in hers and pulling her into the store.
Though, as a whole, JCPenney’s departments hadn’t changed much since its original format - clothing, home goods, jewelry, and appliances - the style of, well, everything took Vivien aback far more than she realized it could. Not only were the styles of clothing different, but the store itself was entirely different from any JCPenney Vivien had ever visited. Mid-century-style chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm, golden light on the store as workers in pastel uniforms flitted about with cheerful smiles on their faces. Vivien smiled in return as a woman passed by with a rack of clothes, the two sharing a wave as the woman went about her day.
“It’s funny,” Vivien breathed, gaining the attention of the girls on either side of her as they guided her further into the store. 
Looking around curiously, Lela tipped her head to the side as she asked the younger girl, “What is?”
Snickering, Vivien admitted, “I’m not used to seeing people happy to be at work. Most workers in my world are standoffish and grumpy when you approach them in a shop.”
Sharing a laugh as Vivien looked around in amazement, Lela watched as Carrie moved to stand in front of the young brunette with her signature, dazzling smile and said, “Well, Vivi, most people nowadays actually like the jobs they have. From what little experience I have, I can tell you the people are, usually, a lot nicer here because they have other work options to choose from.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Vivien agreed with a nod. Looking around the store, she wondered, “Where do we even start?”
“Why don’t you pick?” Lela offered. “It’s your first time in the sixties, and not like we’re on a tight schedule or anything, so we can go anywhere you want to go.”
Smiling at the idea, Vivien looked around at the different departments, the music playing from the speakers on the walls filling her with a sense of familiarity as she took in the clothing selections around her. Turning from the junior-miss department to the ladies’ department, Vivien found herself not looking at the clothes as a head of blonde hair caught her attention. Watching as the girl turned, her arms filled with various hangers of clothing yet to be tried on, Vivien stepped away from Lela and Carrie and made her way to the blonde.
“Hey,” she called out, smiling as the girl looked up, “you’re Jules, right? The girl from the restaurant yesterday.”
“And you’re Vivien,” Juliet said, smiling as Vivien nodded in agreement. “What brings you here?”
“A shiny, convertible Mustang,” Vivien offered with a tentative laugh. Attempting to brush off her awkwardness with a shake of her head, she gestured to Lela and Carrie as they followed her over and explained, “Carrie and Lela wanted to take me shopping.”
Juliet let out a soft chuckle, smiling over Vivien’s shoulder at the familiar pair, “Not even two whole days here and this one’s already got you two chauffeuring for her? Damn.” Nudging Vivien with an elbow, she smirked at Carrie and teased, “If I’d known it was that easy to hitch a ride in that fancy car o’ yours, I’d have used my - oh, what did you call it, Carrie?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully before thickening her accent with a playful grin. “My ‘southern belle charm’? - on you the day I met you.”
In a bid to appear unphased despite the tinge of pink flushing across her cheeks, Carrie laughed, “You’re one to talk about fancy cars, Julie. You’ve got an Aston Martin.”
“Not today, I don’t,” Juliet said with a wink. Turning her attention back onto the brunette before her, she lowered her voice, “Today, I’m just an average girl with her Thunderbird.”
“I thought you were an average girl,” Vivien chuckled in a breath. “Are you, like, rich or something?”
“My dad owns a few motorcycle manufacturing plants in Texas and Tampa as well as a few country clubs and luxury car sales places,” Juliet admitted with a shrug. 
Thinking for a moment about how at ease the girl had been at her place of work the day before, Vivien asked, “I take it you only work at Big Momma for funsies?”
Juliet laughed, smiling brightly back at Vivien, “Well, more for the drama, but yeah, I guess that works too. I don’t really need to work anywhere, but Daddy said I should get some real life experiences and stop stickin’ my nose so high in the air I could drown in a rainstorm, so I picked the only place nobody really knew me at.”
“And, now, everyone loves her,” Carrie chirped as she examined a rack full of skirts with funky patterns.
“I wouldn’t say everyone,” Juliet said with a grin - lopsided, but still somehow perfect. “I’m sure I pissed off a few people by takin’ up space at their favorite hangout.”
“Only those who knew you from before had any issue with it,” Lela admitted. “But now, they love you.”
“And the feelin’s mutual,” Juliet smiled. "They weren't so fond of me before."
“‘Before?” Vivien wondered aloud. “What happened before?”
Juliet heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes at the memory, “It’s a long, twisted story starring my shitty ex-boyfriend and his gaggle of lunatic shitheads he considers friends.”
Eager to learn more about the seemingly sweet and innocent blonde before her, Vivien’s eyes glittered as she asked, “What did they do?”
Leaning close to the girl, Juliet took Vivien’s hand and lowered her voice, “It’s probably not a good idea to get into it here, but he’s a jerk.”
“Worse than just a jerk, if you ask me,” Lela huffed. “He’s an attempted murderer, in my opinion.”
“And you’re right to think so,” Carrie agreed.
Wide-eyed, Vivien looked between the three older girls before saying, “Okay, now I really want to know!”
Juliet glanced around before jerking her thumb toward the large opening that led from JCPenney into the rest of the mall, “Why don’t we go down to the food court? It’s louder down there, so nobody will hear us.”
“I saw in the paper that they’re giving out free milkshakes this weekend at The Crazy Cow,” Lela suggested.
“That’ll work,” Juliet agreed with a smile. Following the girls away from the clothes to the main pathways of the store, she turned to Vivien and said, “Before anything else, though, just know that it happened a while ago, and I’m still fighting with Xander to this day.”
Placing a hand on Vivien’s shoulder as she and Lela began guiding Vivien and Juliet through the store to the main concourse of the shopping mall, Carrie explained, “The scumbag still has a bunch of her stuff that he refuses to return.”
As her mouth fell open, disbelieving rage filled Vivien’s expression as she breathed a soft, “That asshat.”
Juliet snorted, “Welcome to the slader Xander club. The girls and I get together every Friday to rant about him and his bullshit. It’s like a book club, but with more threats of violence.”
“Count me in,” Vivien said with a smile. “I’m always down for a bit of shit-talking toxic exes.”
“It’s not just him, though,” Lela claimed. “Carrie’s ex, Eric, is also on our list of nasties.”
“And don’t forget that arrogant piece of crap you were with for, what, a month, a few summers before you and Tanner got together,” Carrie added. “What was his name, again?”
Lela rolled her eyes, a scoff falling from her lips as she recalled her absolutely shitty summer romance from what felt like a lifetime ago, “William. Ugh, don’t even get me started on him.”
As the other girls let out soft laughs, Vivien recalled a line from a clip of a show she’d been recommended during one of her mindless scrolling sessions, “Why is every inbred, rich, white guy named William?”
Turning toward the brunette with a raised eyebrow, Lela asked, “How did you know that about him? Did I show you a picture of him or something?”
Vivien was confused for a moment, shaking her head slowly, but as realization dawned on her, she let out a bark of surprised laughter, “Wait; he was actually a rich, white guy?!”
“And I wouldn’t put it past that family to have some serious inbreeding issues under the surface,” Carrie confirmed.
“I was just quoting a show,” Vivien laughed as they stepped out into the main hallways of the mall. A few steps away from the store, she found herself asking, “Was he really inbred?”
“Most generationally wealthy families end up marrying off their children to continue the family businesses or whatever,” Juliet explained. “It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that somewhere down the line, someone married a cousin or something.”
Lela shrugged, hoping to brush the conversation aside as they guided her through the mall, “I don’t know whether he was or wasn’t, but he was a jerk, all the same.”
“And you went out with him?” Vivien asked. “I can’t imagine you with anybody like that.”
With a sigh, Lela nodded, “He wasn’t horrible at first. After a while, though, it was like a dumpster fire flying down a ski hill.”
“I guess we’ve all been there,” Vivien shrugged as the girls led her down a short set of stairs to the sunken area of the main floor where the food court was. “Everyone has a relationship they’d rather not recall.”
“Speaking from experience?” Juliet asked as she guided the girls to an empty table in the middle of the chaos.
Vivien nodded, “My last relationship was alright at first, but, like Lela’s, it went downhill. It happens, I guess.”
“I didn’t know you dated anybody before Royce,” Carrie said as Vivien dropped into the chair beside her.
“Yeah,” Lela piped up, “me neither.”
“What was he like?” Juliet asked.
Not wanting to correct the older girl she had only met the day before and have to explain to someone from nineteen-sixty-four that her previous relationship wasn’t with a boy, Vivien shrugged and said, “Alex and I were actually friends first. We went to the same figure skating rink, liked some of the same movies and music, and we got along great. But, toward the end of things, we stopped talking as much.”
“How come?” Lela asked.
Vivien heaved a sigh, “Alex’s family was moving, and they weren’t sure how to tell me, so they just, sort of, didn’t. Every time I tried calling or anything, it was like talking to a brick wall. They didn’t really listen to anything I had to say, and, when I tried talking about feeling ignored, they finally came clean about the reason, and we ended up breaking up that same day.”
Placing a hand on Vivien’s arm, Carrie sighed, “I hate that it happened to you, but I think I’d take an amicable breakup over a cheater anyday.”
“It wasn’t exactly amicable,” Vivien admitted slowly. Feeling three sets of eyes on her, Vivien hesitantly admitted, “Alex sort of threw an ice skate at my head when it was all said and done.”
“Like, blade and all?” Lela wondered. As Vivien slowly nodded, Lela shook her head, “What the hell; that’s insane!”
“Well, damn,” Juliet breathed. “And here I thought having Xander keep a box of my things hostage was bad.”
“Please tell me you got revenge or something?” Carrie pressed.
Vivien shook her head, “I was too in shock to think of anything like that. Plus, we were friends before we were anything more; I couldn’t do that.”
“Obviously, he didn’t feel the same,” Carrie scoffed, shaking her head. 
“You’re a helluva better person than I am,” Juliet claimed. “I would’ve torn his arm clean off and beat him with the bloody stump if I’d been in your position.”
Raising an eyebrow at the girl beside her, Lela softly breathed, “That’s a bit violent, don’t you think?”
“’S a southern thing. I wouldn’t’ve actually done it,” Juliet shrugged, taking in a breath before smiling across the table at Vivien. “What I mean is, he would’ve had hell to pay if I’d been there.”
“Agreed,” Carrie seconded. Then, with a deep sigh, she leaned back in her chair and huffed, “Some men are just asses.”
“Yeah,” Vivien sighed. Taking a moment to think about how far she had come from her first relationship, she smiled and admitted, “I’m just lucky that Royce is like an angel in comparison.”
“And he’s lucky to have you as well,” Carrie said with a smile. Patting the table with a hand, she glanced around at the other girls before saying, “Now, enough talk about boys; this is supposed to be a girl’s day. What does everyone want to drink?”
Juliet’s quick request for something called the “Death by Chocolate” milkshake gave Vivien pause, but as she looked over at the small outlet shop with a handful of workers behind the counter wearing sailor getups, she smiled. Squinting to see the sign better despite her glasses, Vivien found herself chuckling at the names of the milkshakes - each a pun or subtle nod to a song that Vivien could appreciate. Requesting a “Peanut Butter Bomb” with rainbow sprinkles instead of the chocolate ones the sign claimed came with the frozen drink, the brunette watched as Carrie and Lela rose from their seats, Lela offering to order them something for lunch from the pizza shop in the corner of the food court. 
Suddenly alone with the blonde she hardly knew, Vivien found herself smiling hesitantly at the older girl. “So…” she drawled cautiously, now immensely aware of how little she could talk with the blonde. Juliet was - by Vivien’s standards, at least - very pretty and seemed to be very kind, but one look at the older girl reminded Vivien that she couldn’t bring up much of anything she liked. Her music choices and movie interests wouldn’t make sense to someone stuck in the sixties, any meme references she would usually make to bridge the gap between herself and a potential new friend wouldn’t land if the meme never existed, and she couldn’t exactly whip out her cell phone and show the girl her newest favorite TikToks. Vivien was, for all intents and purposes, stuck. “How’s it going?”
“It’s good, I suppose,” Juliet chuckled, smiling reassuringly at the girl across from her. “Y’know, you don’t have to be so stiff.”
“Stiff?” Vivien wondered aloud, feeling the tension in her spine twitch as the urge to slouch took over. “I’m not stiff.”
Sending the girl a knowing look, Juliet smiled, “Tell that to your rigid, dancer posture. You take ballet classes?”
Slowly, Vivien nodded, taking in a breath to relax herself a bit as she explained, “I’m a figure skater. My partner, Riven, and I do ballet to help us have nice lines on the ice.”
“Riven, huh?” Juliet asked. “Is he that tall boy Mick says you’re in a band with back home?”
“I guess so, yeah,” Vivien beamed, eager to finally have something to discuss with the blonde. “He’s kind, always considerate, and super smart, but I’d never tell him that - oh, and he always smells like this really nice, watermelon-y cologne his dad got him for Christmas that’s a knock-off of some really expensive Ralph Lauren one, but he refuses to tell me what it is because he’s an ass. But, then again, he’s my ass, so I love him anyway.”
“You love him?” Juliet questioned softly as she curiously tilted her head. “What about Royce?”
“Oh, it’s not like that,” Vivien brushed off. “Riven’s like my brother, basically. We’ve been skating together since I was, like, four, and although I adore him, and vice versa, he’s my brother. As amazing as he is, I would rather jump from the tallest skyscraper without a parachute than date him.”
Letting out a soft laugh, Juliet nodded, “Good to know. Do you have any pictures of him on your phone?”
Eyes glittering like freshly polished emeralds, Vivien nodded emphatically, reaching into her purse and pulling out her cell phone. Unlocking the device and swiping over to her photo albums, Vivien’s fingers froze millimeters above the screen as she slowly looked up at Juliet, who smiled softly in return. Realizing the blonde had tricked her, Vivien quietly asked, “You knew?”
Juliet nodded dutifully, her smile never wavering, “Word travels fast at Big Momma’s, and Mick is always talking about her little sister who she wants to show off to everyone if she ever gets the chance. It wasn’t hard to piece together who you were once I knew your name, but I wanted to form my own opinion of you before I told you what I knew.”
“And?” Vivien asked. “What’s your opinion?”
“I’m still working on it,” Juliet admitted. “But so far, so good.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Juliet chuckled, reaching across the table to place a hand on Vivien’s arm. “You don’t need to impress me, darlin’. Just be yourself, and I’ll tag along for the ride.”
“Thank you,” Vivien said, finally feeling herself relax enough to find the metal chair she sat on somewhat comfortable.
“What’re friends for?” Juliet asked rhetorically, her smile nearly blinding. “Now, show me some pictures of this brother of yours. He sounds like a catch, and I’m in the market for a new beau.”
Snorting at the idea of someone as beautiful as Juliet finding Riven - of all people - attractive, Vivien opened her phone once again and began scrolling through her pictures as the other girls made their way back to the table. Combating Lela’s wide eyes and Carrie’s raised brow with a smile and a shake of her head, Vivien accepted her milkshake from Carrie and explained to Juliet who some of the people in her pictures were. Once Lela had set down the pizza she had ordered and Vivien tucked her phone back into her purse, the conversation seemed to flow with relative ease.
All too soon for any of their liking, the meal was over, and they were tossing their trash in one of the overly ornate trash barrels on their way out of the food court. However, instead of parting ways with the girls, Juliet decided to stick around, far more interested in having a group of friends to shop around with than wandering the large shopping center on her own. Juliet was eager to show her friends some of her favorite shops, guiding them through locally-owned shops like Durand Sisters, Zig to Zag, and Missy’s Closet. Though they didn’t find much that Vivien was interested in, they all left with something from each store before letting Lela drag them into a dress boutique, which she said would have just what Vivien needed. The girls spared no time at all pushing her into the nearest changing room and throwing dresses over the door at the poor brunette, urging her to try on anything she liked once they figured out her size in different brands.
After spending a few hours floating between stores and trying things on, Vivien was more than willing to sit around at a smoothie shop on the far end of the mall. Sipping at her watermelon smoothie while the girls divvied up their purchases and handed items to each other across the small table, Vivien found that she was simply glad for a break. She never believed there would come a time when she would be out-shopped by anyone - hell, she spent most of her summer the previous year in the mall, bouncing between shops with Erica and Jade while they filled out applications, did interviews, and just hung out - but there she was, sitting around a tiny metal table to rest her aching feet, smiling as she listened to the girls chat about everything and everyone they could think of. It was nice.
Once they had finished their drinks and relaxed for a while, Vivien admitted that she wanted to find a place that could fill her closet with more than just the practical fashion of the day - she wanted to find clothes that were just as comfortable and relaxed as she was. After examining the mall’s directory map and eliminating a couple of handfuls of stores from her potential list as the older trio picked apart the selection with practiced ease, Vivien found herself hand-in-hand with Lela and Carrie as they headed down the concourse to a store called Woolco. The mannequins in the shop’s windows were dressed in a range from the wasp waist dresses and puffy skirts worn by the older women in the area to mod dresses, shift skirts, and colorful jeans with matching sweaters that were, Vivien supposed, commonplace for teenagers and young women. Upon entering the store, Vivien was mildly confused by the lunch counter near the door, the smell of soups and grilled cheeses wafting through the air as a teenage boy around Vivien’s age greeted them.
Grabbing a shopping cart and pulling Vivien toward the juniors department despite her insistence that, due to her height, she was in the women’s section back home, the older girls began pulling things from the racks and draping them over the side of the cart in a pile. At Lela’s urging, Vivien split off from the group, heading across the path to the shoe department in search of something to match a majority of what the girls had picked for her. Though the shoes Carrie had already gifted her would definitely be making their way into her rotations, she knew for a fact that anything with a heel higher than the ones on her figure skates would require some getting used to. In the meantime, she needed something practical and easy to walk in.
Though she usually searched the men’s section first in the hopes of finding some Converse that would last longer than the ones in the women’s section, Vivien found herself drawn to the ladies’ section. Among the saddle shoes and shoes that appeared to be copies of her favorite iconic sneakers, Vivien found a pair of Keds Champions - the same shoes she remembered Baby wearing in Dirty Dancing. Glancing over at the girls and the stack of clothes they had accumulated for her, Vivien sighed and shook her head with a smile. Yeah, she had time.
By the time she had set aside a few boxes of shoes, the girls had gathered enough clothing to fill a new store, making Vivien wonder if she would’ve been better off going shopping with Miles and the boys. Examining the pile as she placed her trio of boxes inside the cart, Vivien asked, “You guys do realize I’m only staying for, like, a month or so, right?”
“Oh, please,” Lela scoffed with a grin. “It’s the sixties, Vivi, you need an outfit for every occasion you come across.”
“Especially dance nights and pool parties,” Juliet suggested with a smile.
Shaking her head with a smile, Vivien sighed, “Somehow, I doubt I’ll be going to many parties. I’ve barely left my house all year apart from school and skating practice.”
“Then isn’t it time that you did?” Carrie asked, gentle music floating through the air from seemingly nowhere as the blonde smiled warmly at the brunette before her.
Looking around in bewilderment, Vivien wondered aloud, “Where is that coming from?”
“Besides,” Lela began, ignoring the girl’s question, “this world is different from yours.”
“Yeah, Vivi,” Juliet agreed, smiling at Lela and Carrie as she began singing, “look around! Everybody’s groovin’ to a brand new sound.”
Beaming proudly as the music began to swell, Lela took Vivien’s hands and pulled her toward the dressing rooms as she sang, “Hey, Vivi, hey, Vivi, follow me, I know something’s in you that you wanna set free.”
“So let go, go, go of the past now,” Carrie sang with a wink, waving her hand as though she was, quite literally, brushing off the past. “Say hello to the love in your heart.”
“Yes, we know that the world’s spinning fast now,” Juliet chimed in, helping Carrie pull aside the curtains that separated the changing rooms from the rest of the store, “but you gotta get yourself a brand new start.”
Vivien allowed Lela to pull her inside the dressing rooms, looking around briefly at the fancy chandeliers and various mirrors lining the walls before jumping in surprise as the changing room attendants began singing along, joining in the familiar song as the backing vocals Vivien sang in the car all the time, “Hey, Vivi, welcome to the sixties! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh~! Oh, Vivi, welcome to the sixties! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh~! Go, Vivi, go, go, go!”
Finding herself pushed into a cubicle by the girls who had brought her to the store, Vivien let out a startled “Hey!” as they filled her arms with clothes and all but slammed the door in her face. Huffing as she set the overwhelming stack of clothes on the bench inside the room, Vivien scoffed, “Not cool, you guys!”
Ignoring the girl’s remark, Carrie softly sang, “Hey, Vivi, hey, Vivi, have some fun.”
Looking over the pile, Vivien muttered, “It’ll take me twenty years to try all this stuff on.”
“Hey, Vivi, hey, Vivi,” Lela joined in from the other side of the door, “take a chance.”
Picking up a dress that the girls presumed she would need for some fancy night on the town, Vivien rolled her eyes, “Guys, I think I would’ve preferred a few more pairs of pants.”
“So?” Juliet asked. Without letting the girl get a word in edgewise, the blonde continued singing, “Let go, go, go of the past now.”
“Say hello to the light in your eyes,” Lela added, her smile evident in her tone despite keeping her voice soft.
Carrie leaned against the door, preventing Vivien from pushing it open to leave as she sang, “Yes, we know that the world’s spinning fast now.”
Then, as a joint effort, the girls sang in unison, “But you gotta run the race to win the prize!”
Taking in a deep breath as the music lulled, Vivien sized up the pile of clothes and shrugged, kicking her shoes off, pulling a few selections from the pile and setting them aside to try on. “Fine,” she huffed, “you win.”
Just like that, the music swelled once more as the girls outside the changing room and the attendants began singing the chorus once again. Allowing herself to get pulled into the swing of the song, Vivien changed into a checkerboard dress that faintly reminded her of Tracy’s finale dress in the Hairspray movie and knocked on the door to ask Carrie to step away from it before poking her head out. Though the people outside the changing room still sang along to the Hairspray song, Vivien found herself smiling and humming along as she slowly stepped out to look at herself in the mirror.
“Welcome to the rhythm of a brand new day,” Carrie sang with a beaming smile as she stepped up behind Vivien in the mirror.
“Take your newfangled fears,” Juliet sang, sidling up on Vivien’s left, “and just throw them away.”
Looking over the younger girl’s outfit, Lela placed a hand on Vivien’s shoulder and smiled gently at her as she suggested, “You should add some color and a fresh new ‘do.”
Joining the raven-haired girl in singing the last of her statement, Carrie and Juliet nodded and smiled, guiding Vivien back to the dressing room and pushing her inside, “’Cause it’s time for a star who looks just like you!”
However, as the song continued, Vivien felt herself drawn to a particular dress that hung on the back of the door. Though she wasn’t usually one for green, and the skirt was nowhere near as long as she would have preferred, the dress nearly matched her eyes, encouraging her to take it down from the hanger and at least give it a shot whilst her friends and the workers sang. Almost as though the people outside her dressing room knew she had gotten the dress on and into place, a knock sounded on the door, and Vivien called out, “Yeah?”
Without warning, the door swung open, and a pair of fitting room attendants stepped into the small room, encouraging Vivien to sit on the bench as they took turns showing her things they had brought with them. The older one, a redhead with streaks of white framing her face, started singing as she pulled out a tube of lipstick, held Vivien’s chin to keep her in place, and started applying it to her lips, “Don’tcha let nobody try to steal your fun, ’cause a little touch of lipstick never hurt no one.”
“The future’s got a million roads for you to choose,” the other attendant, a dark-skinned woman with curly hair and a graceful smile, sang as she knelt beside Vivien and slipped a pair of shoes on her feet, buckling the strap over the top of her foot before moving away, “but you’ll walk a little taller in some high-heel shoes.”
“And once you find the style that makes you feel like you,” the redhead sang.
“Something fresh, something new,” the curly-haired attendant added.
Opening the door and stepping out of the fitting room, the pair sang in unison, “Step on out, hear us shout!”
After a pause of complete silence, Vivien heard Carrie knock lightly on the door as she called out, “Vivi, that’s your cue!”
Propelling herself to her feet and giving herself a quick once-over, Vivien stepped out of the dressing room and made her way to the mirror, finding her reflection with wide eyes. Though the dress looked small on the hanger, it fit her perfectly, the shade of green complimenting her eyes nicely. The soft pink on her lips was the only makeup she remembered receiving, but behind her glasses, she could see traces of eyeshadow and mascara that, for the first time in years, didn’t make them uncomfortably clumpy or stick to the lenses of her glasses. Then, to top it all off, her hair had been teased into a small bump just behind her bangs, separated by a solid white hair band she didn’t recall wearing. Overall, she looked like something out of a vintage magazine - a look unachievable without the help of movie magic.
Feeling as though she had stared at herself long enough, Vivien took in a deep breath, glanced at the trio of girls who had moved to stand beside and behind her, and began hesitantly singing along to the song, “Hey, Carrie, hey, Lela, look at me; I’m the cutest chickie that ya ever did see.” Surprising herself with how good she sounded, Vivien let out a chuckled breath and sang, “Hey, Julie, hey, girls, look at us! Where is there a team that’s half as fabulous?”
“There she is!” Carrie cheered.
“Yes!” Lela squealed.
“Sing it, girl!” Juliet beamed.
Determined to enjoy the moment while she had it, Vivien smiled reassuringly at her reflection before turning to the girls and continuing the song, “I let go, go, go of my past now; said hello to this red carpet ride. Yes, I know that the world’s spinning fast now - tell Lollabrigida to step aside!”
As the music pulled them out of the dressing room area and back toward the entrance of the store, the lyrics of the chorus encouraging them to leave, Vivien found herself handed bags upon bags of clothing she had never tried on. Though she felt a hint of concern as the workers guided them to the exit, the repeated singing of the chorus swelling with each step they took, Vivien found herself smiling as she - like the other girls she had gone into the shop with - was pulled into a sort of involuntary musical number once they exited the store, finding everyone else in the mall dancing along as though it was the most normal part of their day.
Once the music finally ended, however, and they were stood by the water fountain in the middle of the concourse, Vivien panted to catch her breath as she laughed, turning to the girls on either side of her with wide eyes. “What was that?”
“A makeover montage,” Lela explained, beaming proudly at the brunette. “At least, that’s what Mick calls it.”
Looking over her outfit, Vivien smiled, “I can’t believe I actually had fun with that.”
Draping an arm over Vivien’s shoulders, Carrie said, “I can’t believe how incredible your singing voice is.”
“The power of movie magic, I guess,” Vivien chuckled. “Normally, I sing like a beached whale.”
Raising a brow, Juliet asked, “Aren’t beached whales dead?”
“Precisely.”
Lela scoffed as she took some of the bags from Vivien’s arms, “Vivien, I’ve heard you sing in the car.”
“Then you should know, better than anyone,” Vivien began, taking a moment to point to herself. “Beached whale.”
As Lela rolled her eyes and shook her head, Carrie began guiding them toward the mall’s exit with a sigh, “We have got to work on your confidence while you’re here.”
“I’m confident I sing like a beached whale,” Vivien tried. “Does that count?”
“Nice try,” Juliet chuckled, “but no.”
Vivien sighed, shrugging as they made their way outside. The mid-afternoon sun was warm on her skin as they stepped out of the air conditioning. “Well, can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Following the other girls over to the parking lot, Juliet pulled the keys to her car out of her bag and asked, “So, where to next, girls?”
“Well,” Carrie began, placing her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose with a sigh, “I was going to try bringing Vivi to the studio to show her around before we head home for the night, but turns out, nobody’s there to let us in the gate.”
“I could hop the fence,” Vivien suggested. After receiving nothing but silence and bewildered stares, Vivien asked, “What? It wouldn’t be my first time?”
“You break into places often?” Juliet wondered.
“As I tell Mickie all the time, it’s not breaking and entering if you don’t break anything,” Vivien shrugged. “Then it’s just entering.”
Lela snickered, “I don’t think that’s what the police would say.”
“Probably not, but I’ve never really gotten in trouble for it,” Vivien explained. “Abandoned buildings don’t typically have security.”
“I think that makes it a bit different than climbing the gate to a film studio,” Carrie grinned. “Besides, it probably wouldn’t go over well if we had to call Mick, Miles, or the Warden to bail us out of jail on your first full day here.”
With a sigh, Vivien admitted, “Yeah, I guess.” As they reached Carrie’s car, the brunette hefted some of her shopping bags into the backseat before climbing in and sitting, “So, any idea what’s in all of these bags? I didn’t try on much of anything.”
Peering into some of the bags over the side of the car as Lela placed more bags on the floor behind her seat, Juliet said, “Looks like most of the stuff we picked out for you.”
“But I didn’t pay for anything,” Vivien mused, glancing back at the mall entrance as though she expected some disgruntled manager to come running outside, demanding payment. 
As though sensing the girl’s apprehension, Lela laughed, “Don’t question it. Free clothes and food come with the territory of movie magic. It’s kind of normal for us to get free things now and then.”
“Anyway,” Juliet started, bringing the conversation back to the items they had received as she looked through the bags, “it looks like there’s a few swimsuits, some shoes, and some everyday clothes as well.”
“And, hopefully, you got to keep some of the dresses we picked for when you and Royce go out dancing,” Carrie added, shimmying as she walked around the back of the car to the driver’s door.
“Dancing?” Vivien echoed with a laugh. “I doubt we’ll do much of that. He’s just as coordinated as I am.”
“Says the ballerina,” Juliet teases.
“And figure skater,” Lela chimed in.
Carrie looked at Vivien in the rearview mirror with a raised brow, “I would’ve thought you’d be one of the most coordinated people in this car.”
Vivien smirked back at the blonde, “Well, I have enough scars to say otherwise, but thanks.”
Turning in her seat as she buckled herself in, Lela said, “I remember Mick saying you were clumsy, but I thought she was just teasing.”
“Nah,” Vivien chuckled, “I’m graceful as hell on the ice, but the second I’m out of my skates, it’s like there’s a magnet slamming me into any surface that can cover me in bruises. So, yeah, I think dancing might be off the table.”
Juliet chuckled, patting the side of the car with a smile, “I don’t know, darlin’. You were dancin’ pretty darn well back there.”
Though her first instinct was to brush off the girl’s compliment and move on, Vivien found herself taking the time to actually think for a moment, pondering her statement. She had experienced a lot of firsts that day - her first interaction with people her friends didn’t already know, her first shopping trip in another world, and her first real taste of the movie world she now lived in. Whilst singing and dancing in public wasn’t something Vivien would usually find fun, she had to admit that, for her first time doing so, she actually enjoyed herself. With a small smile, Vivien softly said, “Movie magic, I guess.”
“We’ll let it slide for now,” Lela said with a reassuring smile.
“Just think about it,” Juliet added. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find you’re so good at dancing that Carrie here will convince the studio to take you on.”
Vivien let out a snort, “Yeah, I doubt that’ll happen.”
“Never know,” Carrie said from the driver’s seat. “They’re always looking for extras and one-off characters. Maybe they’d be willing to sign you on for a few episodes.”
Watching apprehension flood Vivien’s face as the younger girl stared wide-eyed at the mirror, Juliet smiled and said, “For now, though, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Thank you,” Vivien sighed under her breath. 
“Anytime,” Juliet replied with a soft chuckle. “Well, I best be goin’. I’m meetin’ Daddy for tennis at the country club before dinner. You girls enjoy the rest o’ your night, and I’ll see y’all at Big Momma’s sometime this week.”
Sending the blonde another gracious smile, Vivien waved, “Bye, Juliet.”
“Later, Jules,” Lela said, offering the blonde a smile as she sauntered off to wherever her car was parked. 
“See you, Julie,” Carrie said, wiggling her fingers in the other blonde’s direction as Juliet turned to the Mustang and blew a kiss to the trio within.
Once Juliet was out of sight, Carrie started the car, the engine roaring to life under the hood. The radio kicked on as they backed out of the parking space, encouraging Vivien to sing along as one of her favorite songs from Dirty Dancing began to play. Vivien allowed her head to tip back against the slot where the convertible roof was tucked away, finally finding herself able to relax into the leather seats as Carrie pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main street. After stopping at a traffic light and paying the few cents necessary to board the toll road, Vivien felt the car speed up yet kept her eyes on the sky above as clouds guided the sky closer to dusk.
Despite being energetic all day at the mall, as the radio personality announced it was now six in the afternoon, Vivien couldn’t help but let out a soft yawn. It was no wonder she was tired with her lack of sleep the last few nights, but she couldn’t help but feel it was rude for the universe to remind her of it when she had just had a fantastic day with her friends. As though taunting her, Vivien rolled her eyes as another stronger yawn forced its way out of her. Envisioning one of the clouds above the car shifting into a giant, fluffy middle finger, she breathed a chuckle and tipped her head to the side as they crossed the Old Tampa Bay, feeling the setting sun warm the otherwise chilling air as she soaked in the sight before her.
Distantly, she wondered what her friends would be doing, but then recalled her conversation with Mick and sighed, tearing her gaze away from the sun. Vivien knew that, sooner or later, she would adjust to the idea of her friends and family being in the same place they were stuck in when they left their world behind, but now was not that time. She sort of missed the daily updates from her friends - hearing about the Karens that flocked to the mall Erica and Jade worked at, or seeing pictures of tattoos Riven got to work on that day, or getting calls from her family members to check up on her. Granted, she had photographs of everyone and enough saved voicemails to fill her inbox with messages from her loved ones, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing them on her phone screen or hearing them tell her how much they loved her.
Turning her gaze to the sky again in an attempt to keep her face dry and prevent any potential tears from streaking the makeup she knew would stream down her face and make her look like a melted raccoon, Vivien took in a deep breath to steady herself, and she swallowed thickly. The sudden, overwhelming feeling of being alone in this strange, new world had hit her like a bus, sending surges of worry through her chest like someone had chosen to stitch her up with barbed wire. Running through her emotions as quickly as possible to clear her head before they got back to the Murphy’s home, she made sure to remind herself of a few things - she wasn’t alone, the people she was with were like her family and would be there for her regardless of whatever happened during her stay, and no time would pass back home, so even though they didn’t call, her family and friends in her home world still loved her. 
Finally able to take a deep breath as she felt the car turn onto another stretch of road, Vivien lifted her head from the roof slot and listened to the radio, forcing herself to relax until she could get back to her temporary bedroom. Once she was in the safety of her room, she could sit on the floor with her pictures of her family, listen to their voicemails and the playlists she had created with them, and let her emotions free. However, until then, she was determined to enjoy the rest of her time with her friends, singing and humming along to the radio as Carrie turned to the right at the end of Pinellas Bayway and headed back up Gulf Boulevard.
Just as the song changed once more, the automatic street lights flickered on, casting the small city in a golden glow as the sun inched closer to the horizon. Eyeing the downtown area with childlike wonder, Vivien found herself comparing the view to Radiator Springs, briefly wondering if the fictional town of sentient cars was based on something similar to St Pete Beach in the sixties. Taking in the colorful neon signs and shimmering lights along the main street, Vivien found herself almost disappointed as they turned onto 64th Avenue and the lights of the main street turned to a few flickering street lamps with moths fluttering around the bulbs.
Letting out a half-content, half-disappointed sigh as they turned onto Gulf Winds Drive and further from the glow of Gulf Boulevard, Vivien scanned the houses along the street until the Mustang slowed, dragging the brunette’s attention to a particular turquoise house. Vivien felt her eyebrow lift toward her bangs as she spotted a red pickup truck parked in the sandy driveway. As they rolled to a stop beside the truck, Vivien spotted a sticker on the dash that she recalled giving to Butchy years ago - an image of the Fireflies logo from when they played The Last of Us together. She had whooped his ass in Factions, killing his character repeatedly until he got the hang of things, but when she needed help with a particularly frustrating section of the actual game, he brought her character through it in a matter of minutes. So, in exchange for his help, she had drawn and printed out a sticker for him at school. 
Having never heard what he did with the sticker since, Vivien felt herself smile as she realized why she hadn’t seen it tucked into his phone case like his picture of Mick was. Wondering if he knew just how hard it would be to take the sticker off in the future, she bit back a laugh and began loading her arms with her shopping bags as Carrie and Lela climbed out of the car to help her. Laughing as Carrie and Lela joked about how many mannequins at the mall needed makeovers, Vivien pushed the heat-swollen door to the house open with her hip and called out, “Honey, we’re home!”
As the voices in the house died down and were replaced with laughter, Mick stood from the couch and rounded it to bring Vivien into a hug as she asked, “How was the mall?”
Vivien’s eyes practically glittered with excitement as she dropped some of her bags and began speaking, “Incredible! We went to so many stores, and the food was amazing, and we ran into Juliet while we were there. She was super nice and helped us find stuff, but she went to go play tennis or something, so she’s not with us, but she was really nice, and she knows about me being from the real world - or whatever we call our home world. Oh, and I think she might have a thing for Riven, but that’s a story for another time, and-”
Chuckling as he stopped the girl before she could ramble for another hour, Butchy turned toward the back of the couch and asked, “So, you had fun?”
Taking in a deep breath, Vivien beamed as she nodded, “It was a blast. I even got to be in a makeover montage like in the movies.”
“We see this,” Miles chuckled as he scanned over the girl’s outfit. “It suits you, kiddo.”
Striking a pose, Vivien flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “Why, thank you. It was really weird, but I actually kind of enjoyed it.”
Joining his girlfriend with a small smile, Royce took Vivien’s hand and slowly spun her around before softly telling her, “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Rolls,” she breathed. Suddenly remembering something, she held up her other hand and showed him the bread tie still wrapped around her finger. “Look what they let me keep on in the chaos.”
Royce let out a soft laugh, feeling his face warm as he traced a thumb along the plastic, “Nice.”
Turning her attention back onto Mick as the older brunette began gathering her bags from the other girls, Vivien asked, “How did helping your friend move go?”
“It didn’t take long,” Mick shrugged. “They didn’t have a lot of stuff to unpack.”
“Well, that’s good,” Vivien smiled as she helped Mick pick up her bags from the floor. “I bet they appreciated the help.”
Bentley grinned as he turned the volume on the TV down and stood from his spot on the floor so he could see the people behind the couch, “Why don’t you go upstairs and see if they are.”
Confused, Vivien’s head tilted to the side as she glanced around at her friends. When their expressions gave her nothing to work with, she asked, “Upstairs? Why, can I see their place from there?”
“That’s one way to put it,” Butchy chuckled.
Still mildly confused, Vivien asked, “What does that mean?”
“The friend we had to move in,” Mick began, nudging Vivien with her elbow, “was you.”
“Me?” she wondered. “But I thought I was moved in already?”
“Living out of your suitcase doesn’t mean you’re moved in, Viv,” Bentley scoffed.
“Come on,” Mick said, nodding her head toward the stairs. “I’ll explain on the way up.”
Vivien spared a last glance at her friends, finding Carrie shooing her away with a smile while Lela gave her a pair of thumbs up. Letting out a breath, Vivien tentatively smiled and hefted her bags further up on her arms as she turned to follow Mick to the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, she heard the television volume turn back up as she asked Mick, “So, what happened?”
Turning toward the sixteen-year-old as she reached the landing, Mick explained, “When we were at the gas station last night, Miles asked us how he could make you feel more at home here, so we decided to step in and help.”
“Do I want to know what you guys did?” Vivien asked hesitantly.
Mick snickered as she led Vivien toward her room, “We fixed the rod in the closet so you can hang stuff up, and we put together a few things for you, that’s all.”
As Mick stepped aside to let Vivien enter the room first, the young brunette stepped up to the door, scanning the new addition of a hand-painted dreamcatcher on the wood, her initials painted in a calligraphic style on the feathers dangling from the bottom of it. Smiling as her fingers traced the outline of the dreamcatcher, Vivien asked, “Bentley?”
“Bentley,” Mick confirmed with a nod.
Letting out a soft laugh, Vivien reached for the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open and stepping inside. She had barely taken two steps inside the room before freezing as she took in the handful of subtle differences that changed the room’s energy entirely. On top of a fluffy, cream-colored, shag rug she didn’t recall having in the room before, the creaky wooden bed frame had been swapped out for a metal frame with intricate swirls on the head and footboards. Her eyes stung as she found that the spare bedding Royce had pulled from the linen closet for her was long gone, replaced by pale purple blankets and pillowcases covered in constellations. If that wasn’t enough already, Vivien found herself letting out a breath of disbelief as she realized the dresser Miles had been determined to fix due to it being swollen shut from the summer heat had been replaced with a white vanity that already had her small selection of skincare and her myriad of hair products organized on the tabletop.
Looking around the room as she deposited her shopping bags on her bed, Vivien found her bedside table sporting her lamp, her collection of crystals, her eyeglasses case, and a framed picture of herself, her family, and friends at the summer camp her grandparents owned. Though she wasn’t entirely sure where the image had come from, Vivien didn’t bother asking as she picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, examining it with a small smile as Mick began listing all the things they had worked on while the girls kept her distracted at the mall.
“We weren’t sure what to do with your roller skates, so we put them with your shoes in the closet, but feel free to put them wherever you like,” Mick said with a smile as she closed the bi-folding doors. “Oh, and we also found your embroidery stuff and bracelet kits in your suitcase, so we put them inside the vanity for you so they’re easy to find.” Looking around the room one last time, Mick smiled and announced, “I think that’s about it, but… Viv, are you okay?”
Tearing her gaze away from the photograph in her hand at the older girl’s concerned tone, Vivien nodded and set the frame aside, rocketing up from her seat on the bed to wrap her arms around Mick. “Thank you,” she muttered into the girl’s shoulder.
Squeezing the girl close and rubbing a hand along her spine, Mick smiled, “Don’t thank me yet. Butchy still has to fix the ceiling fan for you.”
“The ceiling fan?”
“Mhm,” Mick hummed as Vivien pulled away. “Miles said you were feeling too warm last night, so Butchy checked it out and found that it’s not running right. We went back to our world to pick up some parts and got back here just a few minutes before you and the girls got back from the mall.”
“Oh,” Vivien breathed. Taking in a deep breath, she shook her head, “You guys didn’t have to do all of this for me. I’m only here for a little while.”
Mick shrugged, “So what? We all want you to feel at home while you’re here. This is the least we could do.”
Before Vivien could think of a good retort, Butchy made his way upstairs and into the room with a toolbox and a bag full of parts from Home Depot. Glancing between the girls as he entered the room, he asked, “Should I be worried that you two are so quiet up here?”
Mick shook her head with a small smile, placing a hand on Vivien’s shoulder, “This one was wondering why we did all of this for her.”
Finding Vivien’s emerald eyes as he set his toolbox down beside the edge of the fluffy rug, Butchy plainly stated, “’Cause we love you, you little shit. Is that not a good enough reason?”
Vivien’s mouth opened and closed noiselessly before snapping shut as she stepped away from Mick, wrapping her arms around Butchy’s middle. Though he had never really been outwardly touchy with the girl in the time he had known her - the pair sharing a few sparse hugs here and there as they both seemed to prefer teasing remarks as their way to display affection - Butchy found himself wrapping his arms around her with ease, placing a hand on the brunette’s head as she softly voiced her gratitude for all they had done. Insisting she had no need to thank them, Butchy allowed the girl to pull away on her own time before telling her that the others were making dinner if she wanted to join them while he worked.
Dinner came and went quickly as everyone shared how their respective days went, and after thanking everyone for what felt like the millionth time since her return home, Vivien waved goodbye to her friends as they left the driveway under the cover of the night sky. Spending a while watching The Andy Griffith Show with her boyfriend and his brothers, Vivien retired to her room when Bentley and Royce headed off to bed, making sure to bid the pair goodnight before their door closed for the night. She didn’t know how they could sleep like that - it always felt too enclosed to her whenever she tried - but after changing and turning on her lamp for the night, Vivien opened her door and sat under the covers of her bed for a while, reading a few chapters of one of the handful of fanfictions she had saved before her arrival in the sixties.
Before she knew it, she heard the telltale creak of the stairs groaning under someone’s feet, and leaned to the side enough to see who it was. As Miles rounded the banister, Vivien softly called out to him, “Miles?”
Jumping at the sudden voice, Miles turned, making up the distance between the stairs and her doorway in just a few steps, “Do you have a habit of scaring the shit out of people you live with, or is it just me?”
“Just you,” Vivien claimed as she set her phone aside and patted the empty space to the right of her legs. “You should be grateful.”
Letting out a short snort of laughter, Miles crossed the room and sat on the side of Vivien’s bed, “What’re you still doing up? It’s almost midnight.”
Vivien sighed softly, glancing around her room before settling her gaze on the older boy before her, “I wanted to thank you again. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me.”
“Enough of that,” Miles said, brushing off the girl’s words as he placed a hand on hers. “Vivien, I’ve known you for - what? - three or four years now?”
“It’ll be three in June,” Vivien mused.
“Well, in that time, you’ve wormed your way into not only my brothers’ hearts, but you’ve also made it onto the short list of people I consider family,” he admitted, brushing a hair away from Vivien’s eyes with a small smile. “If you weren’t already the little sister I never knew I wanted, your relationship with Royce would have made me see you that way. You’re family now, kiddo, you get special treatment.”
Sharing the smile Miles sent her way, Vivien leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder as she breathed a soft, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Miles chuckled, giving Vivien a squeeze before pulling away and standing, shifting the blankets back into place over her lap as she shifted back against the pillows. “Now, get some sleep. You’re coming with me to work tomorrow.”
“I am?” Vivien asked as she plugged her phone in and set it on the nightstand.
“Unless I get a call from the school saying you can join the boys for the week,” Miles confirmed with a nod. “I’m not about to leave you at home, bored out of your mind, so if I don’t get a call back before they leave for school, you’re going with me to work.”
“So, now, instead of sitting here, reading all day and playing with Binx, I get to be bored out of my mind at your work,” Vivien stated before sarcastically adding, “yay!”
Rolling his eyes, Miles placed a palm over Vivien’s forehead and pushed her back against the pillows as he snickered, “Quit being a sarcastic little shit and go to sleep.”
“Sure thing, Dad,” Vivien teased as Miles headed back out to the hallway. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Good night, Vivien,” Miles retorted, ignoring her jibe with practiced ease.
Relaxing into her mattress as Miles disappeared down the hallway, Vivien smirked and replied, “Night, Miles.”
24 notes · View notes
thelemonsgod · 2 days ago
Text
Alright I admit it! Swindle and Hardtop are my favorite in Earthspark >-<!!
Oh and I’ve drew them a bunch for the past few months after I watched the show.
Tumblr media
Here’s my overall first drawing, I’ve draw them a Bunch in my sketchbook but this is the first time on digital ^-^!
Now small rant time
I wish so oh very much that there was a reunion scene between those two because Swindle looking for Hardtop was like a recurring side quest that came up. Like nearly all the time Swindle was doing when we saw him (before he got caught) was searching for Hardtop, and you may argue on ep 4 he wasn’t but he was!!! Literally the only reason he was talking to Mo and Thrash was to manipulate them into getting an energon reader to look for Hardtop!! Sure he could have gotten it without manipulating the children but he’s a character that is never honest with anyone even if it would help him more if he was hones.
Am delusional and just wish for more Swindle but I feel like he could have been like an uncle to Thrash to show him more of the fun side to life (the con way) if he’s main focus wasn’t Hardtop at the moment. Maybe if he kinda felt bad about making the kids to get the reader and let them go and tried to find another way could be a way to show he did bound with the kids, just a little. But sadly we can’t even have rogue Swindle and Hardtop scamming people on Earth and just traveling everywhere so they don’t get caught scamming ppl.
Tumblr media
Gahhh am a sucker for brother/family relationships T-T I love found family <3 Also how’d y’all think Swindle reaction to seeing his brother again with only one arm??? Swindle is not leaving his side for a lifetime, and ya usually see the, by each other and it’s just so cute. I NEED more of those two T-T like the angst is right there??? Swindle legit got himself caught while looking for his brother.
Also another version of the top one bc I felt the colors were boring :p
Tumblr media
Also do y’all think the other compaticons (dk if I spelled that right) are alive or us in this universe? Like am new to transformers and have yet to see the original show but I have seen videos talking about swindle and he legit sold the other off but that Swindle is a different Swindle but that’s like the bunch of I heard of the other compaticons, Swindle is like the one who was able to make it out while not being with the others. I may just see gen 1 to get an understanding of the other compaticons to find a way to put them in Earthspark.
Have y’all seen that one creator do the stunticons in Earthspark?! Their art style is go good I wanna eat it 😭 and I want their talent it looks for much like the show and I want to campaticons in that style. Y’all should also check out their story of the stunticons.
Tumblr media
This one my favorite ^^ just-just look at it!!! I had to study their guns for it. Which was kinda pointless :/ also Hardtop having to relearn something’s bc he no longer has his DOMAIN arm, pretty sure it was he mainly used. I wanna do a Hardtop drawing with just his sniper. Maybe I’ll do it idk
But happy new year!! First post of the year after weeks of being sick <3(no joke I was sick, BADLY sick ,worse experience 😭) Am trying to get back on the active train but idk if I’ll post much bc of school ^-^
13 notes · View notes
swampstew · 11 months ago
Text
KillerCook Chapter 11
Welcome to Raven’s Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Join us in the family room as we sit around and browse our phones, and eat some Girl Scout cookies as we begin tonight’s story. Rated Mature for language. Minors DNI
Tumblr media Tumblr media
*Phone app notification goes ping*
TikTok – KillerCook has uploaded a new video. Check it out!
Title: HACKED Description: This ain’t your regularly scheduled programming punks!5 minute video. The thumbnail is a shadowed figure with a menacing looking ‘X’ mark over the body.
*Press Play?*
The video began with what appeared to be a hostage situation.
KillerCook was tied to a chair with rope and chains, a blindfold over his helmet and duct tape adhered to most of his face holes.
“Uhh, this isn’t what it looks like,” Killer was able to voice out from behind the bondage.
“No, it’s exactly what it looks like,” barked Kid as he stepped into the frame. “This effin idiot was gonna make content on HIS birthday. Not in my house. Today is technically Killer’s birthday but we’re kidnapping – shut the hell up – him so he can actually let his hair down for once in his life.”
Heat stepped into the frame on Killer’s opposite side, “Originally, we were gonna take over the channel and cook for him. BUT, Kid had a light-bulb moment and we developed a scheme to treat the birthday man. You all will be seeing this next week, but rest assured, we’ve got it covered. Wish Killer a happy birthday in the comments and he’ll read them all when we come back!”
Wire came from behind the camera shaking a can of whipped cream, stepping menacingly towards Killer. Aiming the nozzle into one of the helmet holes, he pressed down on the can until Killer began thrashing, white whipped cream oozed from behind the taped holes. ��THIS IS FOR THROWING FOOD AT ME ALL YEAR!”
The video transitioned to a blue and white screen with a traditional birthday melody laid over it.
A slideshow of videos and still-shot frames from Killer’s birthday kidnapping started playing.
Killer’s hostage-wear stayed on as the crew drove to the marina, where a punk-looking yacht was moored. The bow of the ship was adorned with a skeletal body, and there were blue and red flames painted to the sides of the hull. Black cursive spelled out the beauty’s name – Victoria Punk.
“The bag over the helmet is really pointless, I know where we are,” Killer’s muffled complaint went ignored as he was marched up the boarding plank.
About 30 pictures went by with various crew members and friends posing with hostage Killer; one photo had him wearing a beer helmet over the bag over his helmet, the straws tucked underneath all the materials to give Killer some libation.
Finally liberated, Killer – dressed down into swim trunks and his helmet – took a running leap off the yacht to cannonball into the sea. As he resurfaced, the rest of the crew cannonballed after him, created a wave of water to shower down on him and the camera, which promptly died.
_______________________
Kid’s pissed-off scowl came into focus as he adjusted the new camera perspective, “{Redacted} idiots killed my phone instead of using the {redacted} GoPro.”
The next clip showed Killer relaxing with a beer bottle in hand, laying against a giant pizza slice pool float as people drifted by him, playing in the water. All was calm until Quincy, Bubblegum, and Heat swam underneath the float and flipped it over. When Killer broke the surface, the laughter tripled as his hair was plastered all over his helmet and chest, but his beer-bottle was still in one of the face holes.
“There’s sea water in my beer,” he said flatly.
A new clip had a heavy metal anthem roaring in the background as the yacht was sailing at high speed on the open ocean. Killer was standing on the bow, holding a Scottish flag, and thrashing his hair to the music.
More photos of the crew and Killer celebrating his birthday with drinking games, strength competitions, and gorging on fresh seafood flooded the TikTok video. Amongst the main crew and personal friends, there were also members of the Straw Hat crew, and even some ‘frenemy’ rivals that had been spoken of but not ever invited on to the KillerCook channel before. By the time the lighting in the photos grew darker, Killer’s helmet had been exchanged for a face mask and his cerulean eyes were noticeably glossy.
“Hap-hic-happy birthday, Kill, -hic- the best-{redacted}-friend a punk could-hic ask for,” slurred Kid as he gripped Killer’s shoulder. Both men swayed as a cake was brought out to the main deck. Sunset had long passed, the yacht was brightly lit up with swarms of bulbs on strings that hung tastefully along the walls and railings.
Everyone began to sing the birthday song and Killer might have shed a tear, shoving a palm roughly to his face.
“{Redacted}-A, I don’t even know what to say,” Killer drawled out. “All I was going to do was make a small cake and smoke my pipe. You {redacted} are so good to me. Well, not all of you, but I like most of yah. Some I don’t know how you got invited, seriously. But I’m glad you’re here celebrating anyways. I don’t have a wish to make, truly. I’ve got everything, everyone. So thanks. Alright I’m not going to get mushy on all you freeloaders!” Killer ripped off his face mask.
With deep-purple stained lips, Killer’s gorgeous smile shined brightly as he took a gulp of air and blew out the sparkler-flame candles. The party participants roared in celebration at the same time an airhorn started blowing off-screen.
The camera quickly panned to the culprit of the sound. A modest sized cruise ship with a flag waving proudly on the masts pulled up portside. On the side of the hull it’s name was proudly presented: The Baratie. The camera’s change in perspective did not allow for viewers to see who let out the strangled, high-pitched scream of excitement.
Sanji was clutching Killer’s soldiers and babbling incoherently before jumping into the water, swimming towards the restaurant ship.
Hands covering his face, Killer sobbed out, “I’m so fucking happy!! LET’S EAT!!!!”
Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3
Tumblr media
39 notes · View notes